HOW GERMANY BECAME MEAN / THE NEW YORK TIMES OP EDITORIAL

How Germany Became Mean

By Lukas Hermsmeier

A man walking past a building on which is written “Migration is not a crime.” / Credit...Thomas Dworzak/Magnum Photos

Germany occupies a special place in the international imagination. 

After the horrors of the Holocaust and the difficulties of reunification, the country acquired a reputation as a leader of the free world. 

Economically prosperous, politically stable and more welcoming to immigrants than most other countries, the Germans — many thought — had really learned their lesson.

The past few months have been a bit of a rude awakening. 

The economy is stuttering and a constitutional court ruling has upended the government’s spending plans. 

The far-right Alternative for Germany party, fresh from success in two regional elections, is cementing itself as the country’s second-most-popular party. 

Migrants are in politicians’ cross hairs, threatened with deportation and reduced support. 

And the country’s commitment to fighting antisemitism seems not only to be failing but also to have given rise to an outpouring of anti-Muslim sentiment.

The truth is that Germany never fully deserved its vaunted reputation. 

The export-led economy depended on a large low-wage sector and the country’s position in the European Union. 

The far right — ensconced in parts of the state — never went away, and the celebrated Willkommenskultur, short lived in any case, couldn’t conceal enduring xenophobia and suspicion about foreigners. 

The culture of remembrance and historical reckoning, too, was far from perfect. 

Even so, the sudden coarsening of public life in the service of a warped sense of national identity is striking. 

Germany, supposed model of fair-minded moderation, has become mean.

The country’s response to the war in Gaza has been illustrative of this new spirit. 

In the days after Hamas’s massacre on Oct. 7, the German government declared its unshakable support for Israel. 

Chancellor Olaf Scholz — following his predecessor, Angela Merkel — emphasized that Israel’s security is Germany’s “Staatsräson,” or reason of state. 

It was Germany’s duty, given its history and its responsibility for the Holocaust, to stand up against antisemitism, Mr. Scholz said.

A worthy undertaking, to be sure. 

But the government’s habit of conflating criticism of Israel with antisemitism has had some disturbing effects. 

Most notably, it has created an atmosphere where advocacy for Palestinian rights or a cease-fire in Gaza is seen as suspect, running afoul of the state-mandated position. 

The police, for example, have cracked down on pro-Palestinian protests in several cities and outright banned numerous demonstrations.

The cultural sector has seen far-reaching acts of censorship, too. 

The Frankfurt Book Fair canceled an award ceremony for the Palestinian author Adania Shibli, and the Berlin senate cut funds for a cultural center on the grounds it refused to cancel an event organized by the left-wing group Jewish Voice for a Just Peace in the Middle East. 

In this sulfurous atmosphere, the office of Jian Omar, a Berlin lawmaker of Kurdish-Syrian background, was attacked, part of a wider trend of intimidation directed at the country’s Muslims.

This is all concerning enough. 

But politicians, seizing on some evidence of antisemitic displays at pro-Palestinian protests to link Muslims and migrants with antisemitism, have taken the opportunity to advance an anti-migrant agenda. 

When Mr. Scholz was asked about antisemitism among people “with Arab roots” in an October interview, he said Germany needed to sort out more precisely who is allowed to come into the country and who is not. 

“We are limiting irregular migration,” Mr. Scholz pronounced, before adding a little later, “We must finally deport on a large scale.”

Several other high-ranking politicians have also pushed the need for stricter border controls in the aftermath of Oct. 7. 

Friedrich Merz, leader of the opposition Christian Democrats, spoke out against taking in refugees from Gaza, claiming that Germany already has “enough antisemitic young men in the country.” 

Christian Lindner, the finance minister and head of the center-right Free Democratic Party, called for a fundamental change in immigration policy to “reduce the appeal of the German welfare state.”

Mr. Lindner soon got his way. 

In early November, after months of intense discussions, the federal government and the 16 state governors agreed on stricter measures to curb the number of migrants entering the country. 

Asylum seekers now receive less cash and have to wait twice as long to get on welfare, taking even more autonomy away from their lives. 

According to the new plan, Germany will also extend its border checks, speed up asylum procedures and look into the idea of offshoring asylum centers.

Worryingly, antisemitic incidents have been on the rise in recent weeks. 

Yet it is troubling that Germany, of all places, should frame antisemitism as an imported problem. 

Crime statistics show that a vast majority of antisemitic crimes are committed by right-wing extremists and not by Islamists, let alone migrants or Muslims. 

Germany’s leaders, aided by major media figures, are using the fight against antisemitism as a pretext to encourage racist resentment and anti-migrant sentiment.

Their moves are reflective of an important shift in the country. 

Alternative for Germany, which has pulled the political center of gravity to the right since its formation in 2013, has never been stronger. 

Polling at over 20 percent, the party and its concerns, once fringe, are firmly mainstream. 

Questions of national identity and immigration dominate political discussion, in keeping with a broader rise of nativism across Europe.

The country’s anti-migrant turn is often justified in terms of economic concerns. 

Opponents of immigration point to the underfunding of schools and hospitals, the lack of affordable housing, the miserable public transport and the general decline of the domestic economy. 

All these critiques are valid in and of themselves: German infrastructure is indeed in crisis. 

But this has little to do with immigration and everything to do with austerity policies that have been in place for the past two decades.

Central to those policies is the so-called debt brake. 

Enshrined in the German Constitution in 2009, it restricts the annual public deficit to 0.35 percent of gross domestic product, ensuring strict limits on spending. 

During the pandemic, the government got around it by claiming extra spending on the economy as an emergency measure. 

This year, the government repurposed $65 billion of the funds that were left over for climate and energy programs. 

But in mid-November, the constitutional court declared the plan to be unlawful, setting off a budget crisis.

The effects have been immediate: Mr. Lindner announced an early end to a price cap on energy bills, making it likely that German citizens will have to pay more for their heating in the coming year. 

More spending cuts are expected. In an economy on the cusp of recession — Germany is the only country among Group of 7 nations not expected to register growth in 2023 — this is bad news for Germans, who, according to a recent study, are predominantly worried about living expenses, increasing rents, tax hikes and cuts to benefits.

It’s bad news for the government, too. 

The coalition, composed of the Social Democrats, Greens and Free Democrats, came to office in 2021 with a mandate to modernize the country and lead it in a progressive direction. 

Instead, with programs of fiscal restriction and stances of social reaction, Germany’s leaders are only serving the far-right party they claim to want to keep at bay. 

If they don’t change course, Germany’s reputation on the world stage could soon become something else entirely.

Lukas Hermsmeier (@lukashermsmeier) is a journalist based in New York and Berlin who writes for Zeit Online, Die Wochenzeitung and The Nation.