Liberals, nationalists and the struggle for Germany
A surge of populist sentiment is part of a broader shift in international politics
Gideon Rachman
Right-wing demonstrators confront riot police on Saturday in Chemnitz, a town in eastern Germany that has become a flashpoint for protests © Getty
In 1989, the chant “we are the people” excited people all over the world. It was the slogan of the popular demonstrations in East Germany that brought down the Berlin Wall and ended the cold war.
Almost 30 years later the same chant is once again being heard on the streets of eastern Germany — but in a new and disturbing context. It has become the rallying cry for anti-immigration demonstrators, linked to the far-right.
In Chemnitz, a small town in eastern Germany that has become the flashpoint for the protests, one retired teacher and demonstrator explained to me last Thursday: “I was on the frontline in 1989 and it’s exactly the same spirit today. The same deep anger against the government.” Another retiree recalled that in 1989 the East German government had called the demonstrators “an out-of-control mob” and added, “the Merkel government is using exactly the same language now”.
These comparisons between the democratic revolution of 1989 and today’s anti-migrant rallies will strike many as grotesque. Mainstream German politicians are instead warning of similarities with the 1930s, pointing to the fact that some demonstrators have given Nazi salutes on the streets. But the 1989 parallel is thought-provoking in one important respect.
The upheaval in East Germany was triggered by profound changes outside the country — above all in the Soviet Union. In a similar fashion, the current surge of nationalist and populist sentiment in Germany is part of a broader shift in international politics.
In 1989, the rise of a reformist leader of the Soviet Union, Mikhail Gorbachev, fatally undermined the East German government, which was essentially a Soviet client. Today, a German government once again feels shaken by a fundamental change in the politics of the country that it has traditionally looked to for leadership — except that this time the change has taken place in Washington, not Moscow.
The great influx of more than 1m refugees and migrants into Germany took place largely in 2015. Donald Trump was elected president of the US a year later. Just as in 1989 Mr Gorbachev was widely assumed to be in sympathy with pro-democracy demonstrators in East Germany, so now Mr Trump is in sympathy with Germany’s anti-migrant movement and with broader nationalist forces across Europe.
In a series of tweets and snide remarks, the US president has made it clear that he regards Chancellor Angela Merkel’s refugee policies as disastrous and that he both expects and welcomes political upheaval in Germany. Mr Trump’s preferences are so clear that Sigmar Gabriel, who was Germany’s foreign minister until earlier this year, accused the US of seeking “regime change”.
But the 1989 parallels should not be pushed too far. The panic that gripped the East German politburo back then has no counterpart in today’s Berlin. Government ministers are concerned by events in Chemnitz. But nobody has any fear of being swept from power.
Nonetheless, events in Chemnitz are the rough edge of a broader shift in German politics. The official opposition in the German parliament is now the Alternative for Deutschland, a populist, anti-migrant party. Some of its leading figures encourage extra-parliamentary action and vigilante justice.
When support for the far-right was at less than 5 per cent, German authorities had no difficulty in monitoring and repressing it. But government officials now reckon that in areas such as Chemnitz about 25 per cent of the population supports or sympathises with the AfD. This has created anxiety about support for the far-right in the police and other arms of the state.
The rise of the AfD and the visible anger on the streets of Germany has contributed to the sense that an era is coming to a close. Ms Merkel struggled for many months to put together a coalition government. Even some supporters describe her as exhausted and shaken by the hatred she encountered in eastern Germany during the last election.
The challenges to Ms Merkel also now come from within the EU, which Germany has long nurtured as a bastion of liberal values. The entrance of nationalists and populists into government in Italy, Hungary, Poland and Austria means that Germany’s nationalists are part of a broader European backlash against liberal orthodoxy.
When Ms Merkel looks around the EU council table, she now sees a number of ideological foes. The most articulate of these is Viktor Orban, the prime minister of Hungary. He was a leader of the country’s anti-communist, pro-democracy movement in 1989 but now champions the new style of nationalist authoritarianism that places anti-refugee sentiment at the very centre of politics. Mr Orban said recently: “In 1990, we saw Europe as the future. Now we are the future of Europe.”
The Berlin political establishment has no intention of ceding the future of Europe to nationalists like Mr Orban and the AfD. But German officials and politicians know that they are once again in a fight.
In 1989, liberal and nationalist causes were allied in the struggle for democracy in eastern Europe. Now the two ideologies are opposed. The battle between liberalism and nationalism is being waged internationally. It is also unfolding on the streets of small towns in Germany.
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