In the last week of January, anyone following German politics barely had a moment to breathe. With only a few parliamentary debates left before Germany’s federal elections on February 23rd, tensions were running high.
One man in particular managed to upset a lot of people: Friedrich Merz, the conservative CDU/CSU (Christian Democratic Union and Christian Social Union) candidate—and, in all likelihood, Germany’s next chancellor. He could have won so easily—the conservatives have been leading the polls for months. But instead of confidently securing victory in the elections on February 23, he sparked protests that brought hundreds of thousands of people onto the streets.
So, what happened?
If Friedrich Merz could turn back time, he would probably have chosen different words during a parliamentary debate in November 2024. Instead of saying, “Neither in determining the agenda nor in voting on the matter here in the House will there be a random or actually brought about majority with those there,” he might have phrased it more carefully. By “those there,” he referred to the AfD (Alternative for Germany), the far-right party that has long been the subject of discussions about a possible ban upon the political group itself.
After the so-called traffic light coalition collapsed in November, the government lost its parliamentary majority. Merz’s stated goal was to prevent the AfD from gaining influence over debates and votes. In other words, he wanted to ensure that no conservative proposal would pass through parliament solely because of AfD support. To achieve this, he aimed to negotiate and find compromises with every party—except the AfD.
A good idea. Even better if it had been followed by action.
But last week, the exact scenario he insisted must not happen did happen—and not even by chance. In fact, it almost happened twice.
A Tragedy and a Political Firestorm
After a likely mentally ill man from Afghanistan attacked a kindergarten group in a park in Aschaffenburg, killing a two-year-old boy and a man who tried to protect the children, Germany searched for answers. Some demanded stricter immigration policies—according to a representative poll, 68% of Germans believe the country should accept fewer refugees.
The attack was tragic. It would have been tragic regardless of the attacker’s nationality or immigration status. However, as happens almost ritualistically, the debate over migration reignited. These discussions are always emotional, but when migration is involved, Germany continues to grapple with the consequences of the past decade. Angela Merkel’s decision to welcome thousands of refugees in 2015 was initially met with widespread support—but in the long run, not everyone felt heard or understood, and concerns grew.
The AfD, which thrives on resentment and racism against refugees, migrants, and Muslims (even those who are German), found fertile ground for its rhetoric. Founded in 2013, the party has grown more radical year by year. There are endless lists of quotes and incidents in which politicians have revealed their racist and far-right extremist views, demanding an end to Germany’s “guilt cult” after the Holocaust or calling for “remigration,” one of the global far right’s buzzwords these days. For Friedrich Merz, it once seemed non-negotiable to vote or collaborate with them under any circumstances.
However, after Aschaffenburg, Merz responded in a rather Trumpian manner, declaring that he would enforce strict migration policies on his very first day as chancellor. He seemed to be ignoring the fact that Germany does not have executive orders. While the chancellor has the final say in coalition disagreements, their power is far from absolute. But this confused declaration was merely a minor first step towards what happened next.
The Vote That Shouldn’t Have Happened
Merz presented a “Five-Point Plan” for new migration policies. His proposals included implementing border rejections to prevent unauthorized entry, granting the Federal Police the authority to request arrest warrants, expanding detention spaces for individuals awaiting deportation, shifting more responsibility for deportations to the national government, and introducing exit detention for individuals required to leave the country, particularly those deemed security risks or convicted offenders.
This could have been a powerful campaign tool just weeks before an election. He appeared passionate and decisive—a leader. But instead of using the policy plan for political positioning, he pushed for an actual vote in parliament. To be clear, these five points were never intended to become law, vote or otherwise; the policies, and parliamentary voting, were both symbolic motions with no real consequences on migrant law itself.
During a press conference, Merz was asked whether he would be willing to compromise, in reference to his own statement that he would only vote with parties other than the AfD. He rejected any openness to compromise and stated that whoever wants to approve these proposals should do so. He continued with these decisive words: “I don’t look to the right or the left. I just look straight ahead on these issues.”
And so, just days later, the first instance of securing a majority with “those there”—the AfD—unfolded. Looking to the right may have helped the conservative candidate to remember what was at stake here.
Adding to the scandal, the debate on Merz’s Five-Point Plan wasn’t the first item on the parliamentary agenda that day. Before that, there was a Holocaust memorial ceremony marking the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. Germany’s president, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, closed his speech with a quote from Holocaust survivor Leon Weintraub: “Take the enemies of democracy seriously!”
Then, just hours later, the votes of the party widely regarded as the enemies of democracy became the deciding factor in a parliamentary vote. Merz’s Five-Point Plan passed—thanks to the support of the CDU/CSU, the Liberals, the BSW (Sahra Wagenknecht Alliance), but most notably, with the backing of the AfD.
The AfD celebrated as if they had just won an election—laughing, hugging, taking selfies. The conservatives sat quietly, looking almost ashamed beside them.
In his speech afterward, Merz claimed he had sought “no other majorities than those in the democratic center of our parliament.” He added: “If such a majority existed here today, I regret that.”
An interesting comment, considering his refusal to compromise led to a majority with the AfD. Rolf Mützenich, the faction leader of the Social Democrats, stated that Friedrich Merz has opened “a gate to hell.” We don’t have to go as far as calling it ‘hell,’ but he has certainly done something drastic. He has opened a gate to the far right, stepped aside, and no longer controls who enters. He has left the door unguarded. Considering German history almost exactly a hundred years ago, some fear that this could be the beginning of a path toward another far-right regime. The AfD is known for its hostility toward the foundations of liberal democracy. We should avoid another situation in which the enemies of democracy gain power.
Backlash and a Second Mistake
The laughter of the AfD members will stay with me for a long time, as it should with everyone who fears the enemies of democracy. AfD politician Bernd Baumann declared afterward: “A new era begins here and now.”
Against this “new era,” thousands of people took to the streets, protesting against both the AfD’s dehumanizing politics and any collaboration between the conservatives and the far right. The Catholic and Protestant churches warned against collaborating with the far right and stigmatizing all migrants in Germany through their statements. Michel Friedman, a prominent CDU member and Jewish intellectual, left the party, stating that voting alongside the AfD went against his values. Even former chancellor Angela Merkel issued a rare public statement, saying she disapproves of what happened.
But the story didn’t end there.
Two days later, the conservatives proposed another migration law, which would actually have an impact on the policies. Despite meetings with the other democratic parties, no compromise was reached. Merz refused to withdraw his proposal, and once again, the vote went ahead.
However, this time, it didn’t pass. Enough members of the CDU/CSU and the Liberals refused to participate, unwilling to repeat the mistake of voting with the AfD. Twelve conservative politicians stayed away—not openly opposing their candidate for chancellor, but also not supporting him.
A Lose-Lose Situation
Merz ended up with the worst of both worlds. First, he sparked a scandal by voting alongside the AfD—passing a policy paper with no legal impact. Then, when an actual migration law was at stake, he failed to secure enough votes.
Germany’s federal elections are in two weeks. The AfD is polling at nearly 21%, the CDU at 30%. And in case anyone is wondering where the incumbent SPD stands—they’re stuck between 15 and 16%.
The next chancellor of Germany will most likely be Friedrich Merz. And most likely, he will not form a coalition with the AfD. He has promised that. Multiple times. However, Germany’s citizens should hope that he remembers the key principle of politics: compromise is the foundation and purpose of a coalition.
One of the principles for strengthening and upholding a democracy is trust in its representatives. Merz lied. He found a majority with “those there,” polarizing not only the debate about how to deal with the far right but also the migration debate.
The issues Germany has with migration need to be addressed. Some local institutions are overwhelmed and lack the resources to support people seeking help in Germany. However, the ritual of polarized debates around migration after tragic incidents involving individuals does not help. It doesn’t help Germany’s economy, which desperately needs migration. It doesn’t help migrants who have been living in Germany for years and are now struggling with an increasingly racist mood in the population. But certainly, it does help normalize the AfD, which stepped laughing through the open gate. We’ll see if they can be pushed back.