Far-Right Party Wins First State Election in Germany Since WWII

A video from the eastern German city of Leipzig shows a man standing confidently, cigarette in hand, as he raises his right arm in a Nazi salute while shouting a Nazi slogan repeatedly. The scene shifts to a railway station, where police are attempting to manage a crowd of hundreds of neo-Nazis aiming to disrupt a nearby LGBTQ+ Pride rally held in mid-August.

Among the black-clad protesters, the blue flag of the Alternative for Germany (AfD) stands out. The AfD has been reshaping the political landscape in Germany in ways that seemed unthinkable just a few years ago. This past Sunday marked a significant milestone as the AfD became the first far-right party since the Nazi era to secure a victory in a state election.

In the eastern state of Thuringia, the party emerged as the strongest political force, despite its regional leader—a former history teacher—having been convicted twice for using Nazi rhetoric. In Saxony, where Leipzig is located, the AfD finished a close second to the conservative Christian Democratic Union.

Despite prior indications from polls, the reality of these results felt shocking and distressing. There is a palpable fear that the resurgence of the AfD echoes historical horrors from the past. This is a nation that once placed Adolf Hitler in power, igniting World War II under the guise of racial superiority, leading to the deaths of over six million Jews. Germany swore to “never again” repeat such fascist mistakes.

As I observe the AfD gaining political dominance in eastern Germany, a society where the immigrant population stands at a mere 11.4%—considerably lower than the 32.9% in western Germany—I am left asking: Why have the lessons of history been forgotten?

The rise of the AfD is sometimes likened to the rise of Trumpism in the United States, the Brexit movement in the United Kingdom, or Marine Le Pen’s far-right successes in France. Interestingly, even Le Pen has deemed the AfD too extreme for collaboration within the European Parliament.

Reports indicate that some members of the AfD have connections with neo-Nazi elements, and various politicians within the party have faced criminal charges. One former lawmaker is currently battling serious terrorism charges in court.

Despite these alarming developments, I firmly believe that the majority of Germans reject the AfD’s anti-immigrant, revisionist ideology. Earlier this year, over a million individuals hit the streets in protest against the party. In the recent European Union elections held in June, the AfD managed to garner only 15.9% of the vote.

Post-election, other political parties are determined to maintain a firm stance against any cooperation with the AfD, exploring ways to form governing coalitions that exclude them.

As someone from a second-generation immigrant background, the rise and strengthening of the AfD rekindles old fears about the dangers of racism. Born to Vietnamese parents who fled during the war, my upbringing in a quiet suburb of West Berlin was marked by a constant sense of otherness. Despite being a Berliner, many would question my identity, demanding to know where I was “really from.”

These interactions unfolded in the 1990s, during a time of national reconciliation that was soon overshadowed by social tensions as the fabric of East Germany transitioned from socialism to Western capitalism. This shift led to mass unemployment and a sentiment of disenfranchisement among many citizens.

Racial tensions erupted during this period, culminating in violent riots. For example, in 1992, neo-Nazis targeted a residential building primarily inhabited by Vietnamese contract workers in Rostock, unleashing a wave of terror that included physical assaults and arson, all while police withdrew.

My family labeled such areas as “no go zones,” regions controlled by right-wing gangs. Fortunately, as violence eventually subsided, these memories faded away, seemingly overshadowed by a growing cultural acceptance and recognition of diversity in Germany.

According to the 2023 microcensus, nearly a third of the German population—around 25 million people—are immigrants or their descendants, such as myself. Watching the footage of neo-Nazis in Leipzig has made it clear that these “no go zones” could return at any moment, revealing that perhaps they never fully vanished.

With the AfD’s recent electoral success, far-right ideologies are striving to transition from the periphery to mainstream politics. While the AfD’s leaders are aware of the historical “never again” sentiment, they seem intent on challenging it.

Nevertheless, I hold on to the hope that the vast majority of Germans, including immigrant communities, are united in their resolve to prevent this dangerous tide from advancing further: Germany is our home too, and we refuse to allow anyone to take it from us.

Source: USA Today