Culture Wars: When National Culture Is Viewed as a Threat

“The AfD in Saxony-Anhalt has announced a ‘new patriotic cultural policy’ should it take power. The state’s cultural foundations … warn against a development that fundamentally calls into question the freedom of art, the openness of cultural institutions, and the democratically enshrined culture of remembrance.”

Thus begins a joint press release from the major state-funded cultural institutions of Saxony-Anhalt.

Saxony-Anhalt is the state in which the right-populist AfD is on course to win September’s election (it is currently polling at 38%, well ahead of all other parties, with a comfortable 13% lead over the incumbent conservative CDU).

Culture—or, more precisely, the culture war—has taken centre stage in the election campaign. The press release is only one of many other similar expressions of ‘AfD fear’: The German Cultural Council (the umbrella organisation of the German cultural associations) has accused the AfD of maintaining “blacklists” that specify which cultural sectors would no longer be funded if the party participated in government. And Germany’s ARD (public broadcaster) has run special news reports, claiming that “Cultural policy plays a central role for the AfD in Saxony-Anhalt in anchoring its own worldview in society”.

The comments are a direct reaction to the AfD’s election manifesto, which gives culture a central position. While cultural policy is dealt with in the final chapters of the programmes of the CDU, the Social Democrats (SPD), the Left Party, and the Greens—the established parties—it comes in third place for the AfD: directly behind migration and the family, writes Jürgen Kaube in the FAZ.

And quite rightly so, we may add, because culture has for years been the main arena in which the deep divisions within society were reflected most clearly.

Like other critics, Kaube sees this focus on culture not only as a pragmatic approach based on the fact that much cultural policy in Germany is indeed structured federally—with the local state governments allocating generous funds for theatres, art galleries and other institutions, which in the case of Saxony-Anhalt amounted to over 192 million euros in 2025—but also, and more importantly, as an expression of the AfD’s central view that the misery of our time is at its core a cultural problem: “In their view, all mistakes that are made have cultural roots.” In Kaube’s judgement, this makes their thesis similar to that of the Marxist Antonio Gramsci, who, while imprisoned in fascist Italy, spoke of the primacy of culture in the struggle for political power.

The AfD is quite right to see culture at the root of many of our society’s problems. It’s the deep rifts between the cultural values promoted by a certain elite and those still cherished by many citizens that have defined the political fallouts of recent years—and led to the rise of the populists in the first place. It’s also the reason why the AfD’s programme, despite being seen and presented as an outgrowth of a new fascism by many in the establishment, resonates with so many voters.

While the cultural elites of the past have tirelessly emphasised the virtues of multiculturalism and diversity, the AfD in its election programme criticises what it calls the “national masochism” behind these ideas. The party speaks of an “identity disorder” which it wants to cure through a new “patriotic cultural policy.” While one side in the culture war celebrates Antifa culture, the AfD speaks of a need to “come to terms with the past” and of ending the elite’s “perpetuation of a guilt complex.” Through “targeted measures and by referencing the positive aspects of German history,” the AfD wants to “foster a relaxed and healthy sense of self-confidence in German identity.”

To many on the cultural Left—the cultural green-left, which has dominated the cultural sector in recent years—such talk is self-evidently dangerous and despicable. They have never seriously tried to explain in a self-critical way why, despite all their efforts in discrediting the AfD as fascistic, more and more people are turning to the party.

Indeed, some of the organisations that have signed the press release are quite obviously either singularly unsuited—or unwilling—to lead any kind of conversation with a broader section of the public. An example is Magdeburg’s “Literaturhaus,” with events on topics such as “when the far right rules” or “gender-equitable child and youth welfare,” and its list of speakers drawn almost exclusively from circles close to Die Linke or the Green Party. It’s not the only example either. Opposing opinions associated with the AfD or the new Right are generally not welcome in the publicly funded cultural sector (in 2016, at the height of the refugee crisis, the Magdeburg state theatre dared to put a panel debate together which would have included the far-right publicist and supporter of the anti-Islamist Pegida movement, Götz Kubitschek. The event was cancelled after massive protests, including from within parts of the governing CDU. No such bold attempt at a debate has been ventured since then). 

It is the AfD’s demand to “Promote patriotism—no money for anti-German art and culture”, and its attack on the famous Bauhaus art movement (at home in Saxony-Anhalt), which it deems too internationalistic, that has caused the most outrage. More than anything else, this has seemingly vindicated those who see the AfD as a 1933 Nazi revival—the Nazis hated Bauhaus, and so do they, so the familiar narrative goes.

And it is true: there is certainly scope for criticism of the manifesto. But its popularity does not stem from voters having become Nazis. It is because they share the AfD’s broader criticism of state-funded self-hatred and the excessive deconstruction of national history, which does indeed go far beyond a rational and constructive culture of commemoration of the Nazi atrocities, especially against Jews in the Holocaust.

Part of the criticism of the AfD could be levelled at cultural institutions in most Western countries: it is criticism of public money going to projects or performances perceived as anti-majority, anti-family, or bowing to niche values that align with progressive Western fixations. An example is the production of Mozart’s classic The Magic Flute at the Saxony State Theatres, which premiered in April. Though enthusiastic theatre critics praised the production for its progressive “jumbling up of gender roles,” the comments of numerous theatregoers on social media sound quite different: “I was at the premiere. It was truly awful. A far cry from the original. The audience in the theatre was certainly as appalled as I was.”

Another part, however, is more specific to Germany. The idea that the country is trapped in a permanent guilt complex—which makes any expression of pride in one’s history (including the good parts, of which there were some, even in Germany) nearly impossible—clearly resonates with many.

State-mandated antifascism, the ‘Nazi club’ (die Nazi-Keule), as it’s commonly called, is deeply resented by ever more voters. And no wonder: it relegates almost any populist criticism—whether of mass migration, the EU, or energy policy—to the far right. Traditions and adherence to national identity are ridiculed as old-fashioned or even harmful. An example is the crusade against New Year fireworks—a cause cleverly taken up by the AfD in its election programme too.

Especially for people in the eastern part of Germany, these types of conflicts speak to another form of top-down imposed paternalism—not unlike the paternalism and ideology of the Stalinist system, which also demanded the ‘correct’ attitude from its citizens.

Saxony-Anhalt has felt the effects of the problems created by the mistakes of recent years especially keenly. In December 2024, the state’s capital Magdeburg experienced one of the deadliest terrorist attacks in recent years, when a Saudi Arabian refugee drove a car into the Christmas market, killing six people and injuring hundreds. The fact that a theatre production addressing the attack, advertised as “trauma work on stage,” is scheduled for May in Magdeburg’s state theatre will not necessarily help restore trust in the authorities either.

Instead of funding projects which many view critically, the AfD wants to “promote activities that strengthen a sense of belonging and national identity.” To this end, the party promises to give local communities €5 per inhabitant per year. The money from the culture fund is intended “as an unrestricted allocation for the support of customs and traditions.” According to the programme, it will be entirely up to local councils, who should decide by vote how this allocation is used—whether for sports events, the voluntary fire brigade, or other activities.

The opponents on the other side of the culture war might warn endlessly about the danger the AfD poses. But the AfD has one big advantage: it wants to take citizens seriously and give them back decision-making power, including over the allocation of state funds. And if that is seen as a threat to democracy, then perhaps there is something wrong with the critics’ idea of what democracy is all about.