A set of bumper local elections has thrown Germany, and its government, off balance. Chancellor Friedrich Merz may now be a man on borrowed time. His coalition government is in crisis. But this breakdown of business as usual in Germany has been brewing for years.
It’s a nation wrestling with new, uncomfortable and unresolved realities. Think of certain stereotypes about Germany, and think again. A country dominated by boring, consensus-driven politics? Not any more.
A confident, powerhouse economy at the cutting edge of car-making? Yesterday’s story. A nation that can be used as a byword for impressive efficiency? The trains don’t even run on time.
Many Germans I’ve spoken to feel their nation has drifted away from the things that once anchored their identity. And the question of what next is, as yet, unanswered. That uncertainty is currently embodied by a beleaguered chancellor weakened by bruising regional election results. In the last fortnight, Friedrich Merz’s party was beaten to first place in Berlin, pummelled in the polls in Saxony-Anhalt and pushed out of parliament altogether in Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania.
A lifeline for Merz is that no-one, within his own centre-right CDU party, is yet willing to challenge the chancellor openly despite persistent rumours of a Kanzlertausch (chancellor swap). But he is on thin ice, with record low approval ratings among voters who often describe him as arrogant and out of touch. It is a problem that in government circles is sometimes more politely referred to as a “communication” issue. Those who back the Chancellor say it is time to double down on much-needed reforms, alongside its centre-left SPD coalition partner, and find a better way of talking to people.
Swapping chancellors is not the answer as anyone would face the “same challenges”, argues Jürgen Hardt, foreign policy spokesperson in parliament for Merz’s CDU and its sister party, the CSU. Hardt pointed out that the CDU/CSU fared far better in other regional elections earlier this year, when we spoke minutes after Merz addressed party lawmakers at a closed-door meeting in the Bundestag. “I think Friedrich Merz knows about his deficits,” says Hardt. “He will work on him and we will work on us as (a) party.
And hopefully we will convince the people in the next months that we are on the right way.” Merz came to power in 2025, promising to get tough on immigration and boost Germany’s ailing economy. He appeared to offer a dynamism that might act as an antidote to the former dull, unhappy drumbeat of centre-left leader Olaf Scholz’s bickering three-way coalition. And Merz’s allies would claim he has had some success. This week, leading economic institutes raised the country’s growth forecasts for 2026 and 2027 above 1% while illegal entries into Germany – and Europe – are down year on year.
But that will not eliminate public anxieties, on either issue. Households and businesses continue to endure high energy costs while fears persist that China is cannibalising German industry, including its iconic car sector. It is a brutal reversal of Germany’s old recipe for success: cheap Russian gas that powered a booming export-driven economy. And when it comes to immigration, the focus is now less on new arrivals and more on concerns about public safety, welfare costs and integration.
While there are local exceptions, voters appear to be losing faith in Germany’s two principal governing parties (CDU and SPD). Enter the rising force in German politics, Alternative für Deutschland (AfD): a party that alarms security officials with its Russia-friendly stance and contains regional branches that are classed as right-wing extremist by domestic intelligence. Smears and misrepresentations, argues the AfD, as it claimed its third victory ever in a state election last Sunday in the north-eastern state of Mecklenburg-West Pomerania. Its co-leader, Alice Weidel, told me this week that Friedrich Merz’s days were numbered.
The AfD has survived numerous scandals in recent years to now top the polls nationwide, at around 28%. It carries the swagger of a party making the political weather. It has capitalised on a nostalgia for the past alongside an anxiety in the present as it consolidates its strongholds in the former communist east. An AfD placard I saw in Berlin read “Berlin braucht Ordnung” (Berlin needs order).
It is the as yet untested promise that this party can bring back a lost sense of stability. But in Germany’s capital it was in fact Die Linke (the Left) that topped the polls last Sunday in a further blow to the country’s traditional “big tent” parties. The victory has put fresh scrutiny on Die Linke, as it faces allegations of antisemitism. The party leadership has insisted it is committed to protecting Jewish life.
This round of regional elections has encapsulated the country’s fault lines: the eroding support for Germany’s political centre, and a polarising debate on the AfD. Rarely in post-war Germany has a set of local polls generated so much upheaval at home and interest abroad.
