A crisis of the spirit is not so easy to scrub away
The weekend’s German elections delivered a narrow victory for the center-right Christian Democratic Union (CDU), which edged out the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD), securing around 30% of the vote. The Social Democratic Party (SPD) followed in third place, the Greens in fourth, and the liberal Free Democratic Party (FDP) seems to have failed to pass the 5% electoral threshold altogether. But the most striking aspect of this election is not the numbers but the map.
A district-by-district breakdown of the vote produces something that looks exactly like Cold War-era Germany. Almost every district of the former East Germany gave pluralities to the AfD, while the former West Germany overwhelmingly supported the CDU. This, even though the other main parties rejected any talk of a coalition with AfD, livid at what are perceived as its neo-Nazo roots (the party itself is just focused on hating the Muslim immigrants whose mass arrival in the 2010s caused significant societal upheaval).
In a deeper sense, this divide underscores a longstanding failure of reunification, as many eastern Germans remain deeply skeptical of the traditional parties that have shaped post-Cold War Germany.
Despite making up less than one-fifth of the German population, eastern German voters have played an outsized role in shaping the country’s politics since reunification – because they are so disgruntled that they move around and do wacky things – a little like the poorer regions of the United States. While western Germany has remained politically predictable—dominated by the CDU and SPD, with pockets of dwindling support for the niche liberals (which in Europe often means well-meaning and contented pro-business types) — the East has become a battleground where new political movements, both far-left and far-right, thrive.
The reasons for this enduring divide are complex. Economic disparity remains a key factor: eastern Germany still lags behind the West in terms of wages, employment opportunities, and investment. Many residents feel their concerns have been overlooked by the mainstream parties. A lack of eastern representation in government and major institutions has only reinforced the perception that Berlin remains a western-dominated political establishment (not entirely fair, since forever-chancellor Angela Merkel was from the east – but go argue with voters).
Beyond economics, historical experiences shape political identity. Unlike western Germans, who have lived in a democracy since World War II, eastern Germans spent decades under a communist dictatorship. It would seem this fostered a deep-seated mistrust of government institutions, which in turn fuels support for populist parties that campaign on an anti-establishment message. How do we know this? Because it was also in eastern Germany that the far left party Die Linke (The Left) found its major success after its establishment in 2007. Far left, far right – as long as it upsets the old school, the easterners are down. The extremes, in a way, share the same DNA.
Indeed, while the AfD has dominated headlines, the left maintains a foothold. Die Linke (The Left) remains influential, especially among younger voters, although the recent emergence of the Sahra Wagenknecht Alliance (BSW) has split the left-wing vote. BSW combines traditional leftist economic policies with a hard stance against immigration, drawing both former Die Linke supporters and disaffected AfD voters. This shows that the political realignment in the East is not simply a rightward shift—it is a rejection of the traditional parties across the spectrum – which, again, roughly mirrors the situation in America with the progressives on one side and MAGA on the other. The difference is that the CDU, analogous to the old GOP, has wholeheartedly rejected what might be termed MGGA.
And so, right on cue, there is a stampede of global autocrats seeking to normalize the party and erase concerns over its neo-Nazi associations and framing it as a legitimate alternative to Germany’s mainstream political class.
Figures like Elon Musk in the West and Russian ultra-nationalist ideologue Alexander Dugin in the East have been vocal in their support for the AfD, and JD Vance met with the party’s leader last week, shocking his buttoned-up hosts.
Across Eastern Europe, there is considerable openness to this message, as skepticism of the European Union, rejection of immigration from the Global South, and resentment toward western liberal elites converge to create fertile ground for far-right movements. The AfD’s growing prominence is not just a domestic phenomenon—it is part of a broader trend where authoritarian-friendly forces seek to weaken liberal democracies from within.
The outcome of this election suggests that Germany’s political future may look more like France’s, where the mainstream center-left and center-right parties work together to block the rise of the far right, even as that far right cements itself as the dominant opposition force. If the CDU and SPD form a coalition—an old-school “grand coalition” reminiscent of past German governments—they may succeed in keeping the AfD out of power for now. But this comes with serious risks.
In France, the National Front (now rebranded as the Rassemblement National, or National Rally) was kept at bay for decades through similar tactics. Yet, as mainstream parties continued to govern together, they left a vacuum in the opposition, which allowed the far right to grow. Today, Marine Le Pen’s party is stronger than ever, and many analysts believe it could win the next election.
Germany may be heading down the same path. It seems that the SPD and CDU could have a small combined parliament majority and join forces to govern. CDU leader Friedrich Merz, a former corporate lawyer who’s as establishment as they come, would be “chancellor.” That will buy time, but reinforce the perception that they are part of the same political establishment, detached from the frustrations of ordinary voters. This could provide fertile ground for the AfD to position itself as the true opposition, capitalizing on public dissatisfaction with the status quo.
To truly bridge the gap, Germany’s political establishment must offer more than coalitions of convenience. It must embark on a genuine effort to integrate and uplift eastern Germany, ensuring that reunification is not just a historical event, but a political reality
.I first visited East Germany in 1988, a year before the Berlin Wall fell, when a good friend of mine was working at the U.S. embassy in East Berlin and arranged for me to cross Checkpoint Charlie with ease. The difference between the two sides of the city left no doubt about the disaster that was communism. The West was humming with energy, full of BMWs and Audis, bustling cafés, and clear prosperity, while the East was drab, stagnant, and dominated by clunky little Trabants.
But what struck me most was the people. On the communist side, they were manifestly less happy—their spirits seemed crushed, a phenomenon I would later see again when I was posted in Romania. In a police state, where a wrong word could land you in jail, a society becomes bitter but subdued (until, of course, it explodes).
Visiting Berlin today is a different experience—the visual differences have faded, both sides of the city have the same cars, and Checkpoint Charlie is now basically a museum.
But the crisis of the spirit — that one is harder to scrub away.
