Young CDU Premier Schulze Battles AfD's Historic Rise in Eastern German State

This election boils down to Sven Schulze or the AfD.
Schulze strips away campaign nuance to frame the September 6 vote as a binary choice for Saxony-Anhalt voters.
Mark

So Schulze is essentially betting that the AfD will fall short of 50 percent, and then he can build a coalition without them. But they're at 40 already. What's his actual path to victory here?

Mimi

He's not necessarily trying to win the most votes. He's trying to be the one who can form a government. If the AfD gets 40, 42, 45 percent—anything under 50—and no one will partner with them, then Schulze gets to negotiate with the other parties. The CDU, the Greens, the SPD, maybe even the Left. It's messy, but it works mathematically.

Luke

But that assumes the other parties actually hold firm on not working with the AfD. That's a political commitment, not a law. And it assumes voters understand that distinction. Most people don't think about coalition math when they vote.

Mark

Why is Schulze distancing himself from Merz? Wouldn't the chancellor want to help him?

Mimi

Merz is unpopular. Schulze's internal polling probably shows that being seen as Merz's guy hurts him in Saxony-Anhalt. So he's saying, "I'm not Berlin's representative. I'm yours." It's smart politics, but it also means he can't lean on the chancellor's machinery or message.

Luke

And it creates a real tension within the party. Merz wants federal discipline. Schulze wants local autonomy. That's not just campaign theater—that's a genuine conflict about what the CDU is.

Mark

What about the Hallervorden thing? That seems risky.

Mimi

It is risky, but it's also brilliant. Hallervorden is beloved, he's from there, and he's willing to say things about Gaza and defense policy that Schulze can't say directly without alienating his own party. By sharing the stage, Schulze signals that he's not a puppet. He's willing to hear dissent.

Luke

But here's what we don't know: did those four events actually move votes? They were well-attended, but attendance isn't the same as persuasion. And Schulze had to spend political capital defending Hallervorden against his own party. Was that trade worth it?

Mark

He's also making the Bauhaus argument—that the AfD wants to return to Nazi-era thinking. Is that resonating?

Mimi

It's a powerful historical argument, especially in a state with that cultural legacy. But it's also abstract. Most voters care about their jobs, their healthcare, their pensions. The Bauhaus critique is real, but it's not why people vote.

Luke

And we should be clear: one AfD politician quoted a Nazi-era architecture critic. That's damning, but it's one person, one quote. Schulze is using it to paint the entire party. That's fair inference, but it's not the same as proving the party's platform is Nazi-adjacent. The intelligence agency's classification is the stronger argument.

Mark

So what happens if the AfD actually wins?

Mimi

Then Germany faces a genuine constitutional crisis. No other party will work with them. The state might not be able to form a government. It's unprecedented in the post-war era.

Luke

And that's the real story underneath this election. It's not about Schulze's campaign tactics. It's about whether German democracy can still exclude the far right through coalition mathematics, or whether that system is breaking down.

  • The AfD has never stood closer to leading a German state government, and the intelligence agency that monitors it has already labeled it a confirmed right-wing extremist organization.
  • Schulze is running against his own party's shadow — Chancellor Merz is deeply unpopular nationally, forcing the premier to publicly distance himself from Berlin while still wearing the CDU label.
  • A partnership with 91-year-old comedian Dieter Hallervorden drew large crowds but triggered a sharp rebuke from party headquarters, turning a campaign asset into an internal standoff over free speech and optics.
  • The AfD's dismissal of the Bauhaus legacy using language traced directly to Nazi-era ideology has given Schulze a concrete symbol to rally around, framing the election as a choice between cultural memory and its erasure.
  • Schulze's path to survival runs through coalition mathematics — if the AfD falls short of an outright majority, he believes a three-or-more-party alliance can keep him in office and the far right out of power.

In the eastern German state of Saxony-Anhalt, a young premier named Sven Schulze faces one of the most consequential regional elections in postwar German history — a September 6 vote in which the far-right AfD, classified by intelligence services as confirmed extremist, polls above 40 percent while his CDU sits near 23. Schulze, only eight months in office and Germany's youngest state premier, is wagering that no other party will govern alongside the AfD, that coalition arithmetic can hold the line, and that a campaign rooted in local identity rather than national politics can still move voters. The contest is not merely about a state government — it is a test of whether democratic incumbency, in a land that remembers both Nazi suppression and communist walls, can resist the pull of a movement that critics say echoes both.

Sven Schulze says it at nearly every stop: nothing is decided yet. The words rarely land with conviction. He is Saxony-Anhalt's 47-year-old premier — Germany's youngest — and with the September 6 election approaching, he is watching the AfD poll above 40 percent while his CDU hovers around 23. The party has been classified by domestic intelligence as a confirmed right-wing extremist organization. If it wins, it would lead a German state government for the first time since World War II.

Schulze took office only eight months ago, a deliberate handover designed to give him the incumbency advantage that strategists prize. His bet is simple: no other party will govern with the AfD, so if the far-right falls short of a majority, he can assemble a coalition and hold on. He has been cycling through towns, handing out ice cream, holding small conversations — trying to make himself feel local and real to 2 million voters.

He is also running away from his own party's national brand. Chancellor Merz is unpopular, and Schulze has made no secret of his distance — telling voters he is there to carry Saxony-Anhalt's concerns to Berlin, not Berlin's agenda to Saxony-Anhalt. That positioning has irritated Merz's government, but Schulze has not retreated.

His most striking gamble involved Dieter Hallervorden, a 91-year-old comedian born in Dessau who appeared at four campaign events. Hallervorden is a household name but no CDU loyalist — he criticized federal arms policies from the stage, and at one event a Gaza protest banner briefly appeared in the background. The venues were among Schulze's best-attended. When Berlin objected, Schulze defended the partnership as a statement about free speech — something, he said, the AfD seeks to destroy.

Dessau's Bauhaus legacy has become a campaign symbol. The movement, born in 1919, was suppressed by the Nazis. Last year, an AfD parliamentarian described Bauhaus as a 'wrong track of modernism' — language drawn from a 1928 text that shaped Nazi aesthetic ideology. Schulze has used this as evidence of what the AfD truly represents. He has also noted that the party sings the anthem of the former East German communist state at its events. 'I do not want us to wall ourselves in again,' he told Deutsche Welle.

On policy, he has kept the focus local — defending businesses that rely on foreign workers, resisting federal healthcare cuts that contradict Merz's own position. At his most direct, he strips the election down to a single line: it is Sven Schulze or the AfD. The vote will reveal whether incumbency, coalition arithmetic, and a campaign built on local identity can hold back a far-right movement that has never stood closer to power.

Sven Schulze repeats the same line at nearly every campaign stop: it's far from decided. The message lands flat most of the time. He is the 47-year-old state premier of Saxony-Anhalt, Germany's youngest, and he is running out of time to convince voters that the far-right Alternative for Germany—classified by the country's domestic intelligence agency as "confirmed right-wing extremist"—should not lead a state government for the first time since World War II. The election is September 6. The AfD is polling at over 40 percent. Schulze's Christian Democratic Union sits at around 23 percent.

He took office only eight months ago, at the end of January, when his predecessor stepped down after nearly 15 years. The timing was deliberate: a sitting premier traditionally enjoys what strategists call an incumbency bonus. Schulze is betting that bonus, combined with the mathematical reality that no other party will partner with the AfD, gives him a path. If the far-right party falls short of a majority, he could assemble a coalition of three or more partners and remain in power. "We are fighting for every single voter right now," he told Deutsche Welle in early August. The state has 2 million inhabitants. He has been cycling through towns in a jersey and helmet, handing out ice cream on hot days, holding small group conversations. He is trying to make himself visible, tangible, local.

Schulze is a qualified industrial engineer and father of three. He was 11 when the Berlin Wall fell and Germany reunified. Now he is acutely aware that his party leader, Chancellor Friedrich Merz, is deeply unpopular across the country. So Schulze has built a deliberate distance. His message to voters: he is not in Saxony-Anhalt to sell Berlin's agenda. He is there to carry Saxony-Anhalt's concerns to Berlin. This positioning has irritated some in Merz's government, but Schulze has not backed down.

He has also taken an unusual gamble on celebrity. Dieter Hallervorden, a 91-year-old comedian and actor born in Dessau—a city in Saxony-Anhalt famous as a center of the Bauhaus movement—has appeared with Schulze at four campaign events. Hallervorden is a household name in Germany but was not previously known as a CDU supporter. At these appearances, he has criticized the federal government's defense and arms export policies. During one performance, an image of protesters holding a banner reading "Stop the genocide in Gaza" appeared briefly in the background. The venues filled. These ranked among Schulze's best-attended events. When party headquarters in Berlin objected sharply, Schulze defended the partnership on principle: he does not share all of Hallervorden's views, he said, but he shared the stage to demonstrate his commitment to free speech—something the AfD, he noted, seeks to abolish.

Dessau's Bauhaus legacy has become a campaign flashpoint. The movement, which began in 1919, revolutionized modern art and architecture. The Nazis tried to suppress it when they took power in 1933. Last year, an AfD representative in the state parliament, Hans-Thomas Tillschneider, described Bauhaus as a "wrong track of modernism"—language lifted directly from a 1928 book by architecture critic Paul Schultze-Naumburg, whose ideas influenced Nazi ideology. Schulze has seized on this as evidence of the AfD's true ambitions: a return to Germany's darkest periods. He has also pointed to the fact that the AfD sings the anthem of East Germany—the communist dictatorship that ruled the eastern half of the country until 1990—at the end of its party events. "When the AfD sings the GDR anthem, it shows exactly what it wants: a return to the days of the GDR," Schulze told Deutsche Welle. "And I do not want us to wall ourselves in again, as happened here before."

His campaign strategy has been to pull focus away from national and international politics and toward the concrete concerns of Saxony-Anhalt itself. He highlights local businesses that depend on foreign workers and export markets. On healthcare and elderly care, he has resisted the federal government's push to adopt without debate the recommendations of a commission that critics say would cut public services. This directly contradicts Merz, who has said those recommendations should be followed exactly. Schulze has vowed to keep the conversation local, to trust the people of Saxony-Anhalt to decide their own future. At times, he strips away the nuance entirely. "This election," he has said, "boils down to Sven Schulze or the AfD." The vote will test whether a young, sitting premier can use incumbency, coalition mathematics, and local focus to hold back a far-right party that has never been closer to power in a German state.

We are fighting for every single voter right now.
— Sven Schulze, state premier of Saxony-Anhalt
When the AfD sings the GDR anthem at the end of its party events, it shows exactly what it wants: a return to the days of the GDR. And I do not want us to wall ourselves in again, as happened here before.
— Sven Schulze
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