Less than three weeks before the general elections in Germany, calls to ban the right-populist AfD have reached a fever pitch. Last week, a proposal, supported by 123 MPs was brought to the Bundestag (German Parliament), demanding that a “Verbotsantrag”—an application for a party ban—be urgently pursued. Marco Wanderwitz, a CDU parliamentarian and one of the initiative’s leaders, defended the proposal saying: “They are enemies of the constitution… they are the enemies of democracy… the German state cannot tolerate the AfD without suffering long-term, irreparable damage to its very foundations.”
The push to ban the AfD isn’t new. Interior Minister Nancy Faeser of the left-wing Social Democrats (SPD) floated the idea in 2023, with other leading government members supporting it. But now, the ban’s advocates find their influence waning. Faeser, one of Germany’s least popular politicians, faces dim prospects for another term, while her SPD party languishes at around 15% in the polls. Meanwhile, Wanderwitz—who lost his seat to the AfD in the 2021, but was still returned to the Bundestag via his party’s regional list—isn’t even seeking reelection. His urgent plea that the Bundestag “shouldn’t wait any longer” betrays a stark fear: once voters get to decide, the pro-ban faction will likely lose any chance of gaining the necessary majority.
The AfD’s seemingly unstoppable rise has shaken the German establishment to the core. Polls suggest the party could secure over 20% in the election. Yet the fear of populists—and by extension, their voters—has also been amplified by fractures within the establishment itself.
The mainstream parties long maintained a united front against the AfD, operating under an iron-clad consensus: any AfD legislative proposals would be automatically rejected, while mainstream bills receiving AfD support would be withdrawn. This “firewall” strategy has now been breached by Friedrich Merz, the CDU opposition leader and chancellor candidate. In a move described as a ‘taboo-breaking gambit’, Merz last week pushed forward proposals for stricter migration measures despite AfD support. This marked a significant shift in Germany’s establishment, where the practice of cordoning off the AfD had been treated as sacrosanct.
His proposals included implementing permanent border controls, limiting family reunifications, and expanding detention for illegal immigrants. He advanced them in the wake of yet another deadly knife attack in the Bavarian city of Aschaffenburg, in which an illegal immigrant from Afghanistan killed a toddler and a 41-year-old man. Facing sharp criticism Merz responded: “Deciding what is right does not become wrong because the wrong people—i.e. the AfD—agree… How many more people need to be murdered?” He also rejected the ‘firewall’ terminology, stating: “The word firewall (…) is not used by me. Firewall is the wrong image. I don’t want the fire behind the wall to become a conflagration throughout Germany.”
Merz’s initiative sparked immediate hysteria. On Saturday, thousands—including prominent politicians from the Greens, SPD, and Left Party—protested against Merz in several cities. In Leipzig, demonstrators chanted “We all hate the CDU.” The protests continued on Sunday when 160,000 people marched in Berlin under the slogan “Uprising of the decent—We are the firewall.” Former chancellor Angela Merkel has also entered the debate with sharp criticism of Merz, her successor as CDU leader.
Yet calling for a firewall against—or the outright banning of—a party supported by a fifth of voters is profoundly anti-democratic. Proponents justify this using the distinctly German concept of “defensive democracy,” which advocates preemptively combating extremist movements. Under this doctrine, the Federal Constitutional Court can ban parties after a parliamentary majority vote. Only twice has this occurred since World War II: against a neo-Nazi party in 1952 and the Communist Party (KPD) in 1956.
A party ban remains a complex, lengthy process, but the establishment’s anxiety already extends to future electoral cycles. Mainstream media outlets claim the AfD is orchestrating a path to power by 2029, with Stern writing: “As a chancellor candidate, Alice Weidel aims to lead the AfD to second place in the Bundestag elections. Then the final stretch to government will begin. Target year: 2029.” Chancellor Olaf Scholz (SPD) meanwhile, pointed to Austria where the right-populist FPÖ recently won an election and is now set to form a coalition with the conservatives. He warned that “Germany is about to go the same way” and that Merz couldn’t be trusted.
While the election will show whether Merz’s initiatives have won back disaffected voters, one thing is clear: the advocates of firewalls and bans abandoned the pursuit of majorities long ago. Their only path to continued governance lies in marginalizing ever-larger segments of the electorate. For the CDU, the firewall strategy has proven catastrophic, forcing dependence on the SPD and Greens on crucial issues like migration. The tactic has also led voters to despair, with many doubting, as polls show, that much will change, even if the despised current government coalition loses power. Merz is right to reject the firewall; now it’s time to similarly reject the undemocratic calls for a party ban.
Establishment Is Panicking as Germany’s Firewall Crumbles
A protester holds up a placard calling for the AfD to be banned during a demonstration in front of the Reichstag building in Berlin on February 2, 2025.
John MACDOUGALL / AFP
Less than three weeks before the general elections in Germany, calls to ban the right-populist AfD have reached a fever pitch. Last week, a proposal, supported by 123 MPs was brought to the Bundestag (German Parliament), demanding that a “Verbotsantrag”—an application for a party ban—be urgently pursued. Marco Wanderwitz, a CDU parliamentarian and one of the initiative’s leaders, defended the proposal saying: “They are enemies of the constitution… they are the enemies of democracy… the German state cannot tolerate the AfD without suffering long-term, irreparable damage to its very foundations.”
The push to ban the AfD isn’t new. Interior Minister Nancy Faeser of the left-wing Social Democrats (SPD) floated the idea in 2023, with other leading government members supporting it. But now, the ban’s advocates find their influence waning. Faeser, one of Germany’s least popular politicians, faces dim prospects for another term, while her SPD party languishes at around 15% in the polls. Meanwhile, Wanderwitz—who lost his seat to the AfD in the 2021, but was still returned to the Bundestag via his party’s regional list—isn’t even seeking reelection. His urgent plea that the Bundestag “shouldn’t wait any longer” betrays a stark fear: once voters get to decide, the pro-ban faction will likely lose any chance of gaining the necessary majority.
The AfD’s seemingly unstoppable rise has shaken the German establishment to the core. Polls suggest the party could secure over 20% in the election. Yet the fear of populists—and by extension, their voters—has also been amplified by fractures within the establishment itself.
The mainstream parties long maintained a united front against the AfD, operating under an iron-clad consensus: any AfD legislative proposals would be automatically rejected, while mainstream bills receiving AfD support would be withdrawn. This “firewall” strategy has now been breached by Friedrich Merz, the CDU opposition leader and chancellor candidate. In a move described as a ‘taboo-breaking gambit’, Merz last week pushed forward proposals for stricter migration measures despite AfD support. This marked a significant shift in Germany’s establishment, where the practice of cordoning off the AfD had been treated as sacrosanct.
His proposals included implementing permanent border controls, limiting family reunifications, and expanding detention for illegal immigrants. He advanced them in the wake of yet another deadly knife attack in the Bavarian city of Aschaffenburg, in which an illegal immigrant from Afghanistan killed a toddler and a 41-year-old man. Facing sharp criticism Merz responded: “Deciding what is right does not become wrong because the wrong people—i.e. the AfD—agree… How many more people need to be murdered?” He also rejected the ‘firewall’ terminology, stating: “The word firewall (…) is not used by me. Firewall is the wrong image. I don’t want the fire behind the wall to become a conflagration throughout Germany.”
Merz’s initiative sparked immediate hysteria. On Saturday, thousands—including prominent politicians from the Greens, SPD, and Left Party—protested against Merz in several cities. In Leipzig, demonstrators chanted “We all hate the CDU.” The protests continued on Sunday when 160,000 people marched in Berlin under the slogan “Uprising of the decent—We are the firewall.” Former chancellor Angela Merkel has also entered the debate with sharp criticism of Merz, her successor as CDU leader.
Yet calling for a firewall against—or the outright banning of—a party supported by a fifth of voters is profoundly anti-democratic. Proponents justify this using the distinctly German concept of “defensive democracy,” which advocates preemptively combating extremist movements. Under this doctrine, the Federal Constitutional Court can ban parties after a parliamentary majority vote. Only twice has this occurred since World War II: against a neo-Nazi party in 1952 and the Communist Party (KPD) in 1956.
A party ban remains a complex, lengthy process, but the establishment’s anxiety already extends to future electoral cycles. Mainstream media outlets claim the AfD is orchestrating a path to power by 2029, with Stern writing: “As a chancellor candidate, Alice Weidel aims to lead the AfD to second place in the Bundestag elections. Then the final stretch to government will begin. Target year: 2029.” Chancellor Olaf Scholz (SPD) meanwhile, pointed to Austria where the right-populist FPÖ recently won an election and is now set to form a coalition with the conservatives. He warned that “Germany is about to go the same way” and that Merz couldn’t be trusted.
While the election will show whether Merz’s initiatives have won back disaffected voters, one thing is clear: the advocates of firewalls and bans abandoned the pursuit of majorities long ago. Their only path to continued governance lies in marginalizing ever-larger segments of the electorate. For the CDU, the firewall strategy has proven catastrophic, forcing dependence on the SPD and Greens on crucial issues like migration. The tactic has also led voters to despair, with many doubting, as polls show, that much will change, even if the despised current government coalition loses power. Merz is right to reject the firewall; now it’s time to similarly reject the undemocratic calls for a party ban.
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