France-Germany after Adenauer, end of an era?
Israel, Memory, Europe: Is the AfD Bringing Germany’s Postwar Consensus to an End?
The rise of the Alternative for Germany (AfD) is usually analyzed through an electoral lens: rising poll numbers, the weakening of governing parties, the future of Germany’s political Brandmauer (“firewall”), and speculation about possible coalition governments.
These questions matter. But they may not be the most important ones.
If the AfD were eventually to become an unavoidable force in German politics, the implications would extend far beyond a simple change of government. The real question is whether Germany is gradually entering a new chapter in its political history.
Since 1949, the Federal Republic has been built around a broad national consensus: firm integration into the Western alliance, European integration, NATO membership, reconciliation with its neighbors, and a special relationship with Israel elevated to the level of Staatsräson—a reason of state.
For more than seven decades, these principles have shaped Germany’s political identity. The question now is whether that consensus can remain intact throughout the twenty-first century.
The Post-1949 Order
When Konrad Adenauer became the first Chancellor of the Federal Republic, Germany was emerging from the greatest catastrophe in its history.
The country lay devastated, occupied, divided, and morally discredited.
West Germany’s leaders made a defining strategic choice: to rebuild the nation by embedding it within a political order larger than Germany itself.
Europe, the Atlantic Alliance, and Franco-German reconciliation became the pillars of this new identity.
Over time, this orientation ceased to be merely a political option. It became one of the constitutional foundations of the Federal Republic itself.
The Passing of the Founding Generation
One factor is often underestimated in discussions about Germany’s political evolution: generational change.
The generation that experienced World War II, the ruins of 1945, Allied occupation, Germany’s division, the Berlin Wall, and the country’s economic reconstruction is gradually disappearing.
Today’s political, business, and intellectual leaders were born after those defining events. For them, World War II belongs to national history—but not to personal memory.
The past has not disappeared.
What has changed is the way it is experienced.
The central question is becoming less, “What happened?” than, “How central should that past remain in defining contemporary Germany?”
Eastern Germany Changes the Equation
Nowhere is this transformation more visible than in the states of the former East Germany.
Four decades of communist rule produced a historical memory very different from that of West Germany. For many former East German voters, the defining historical experience is not limited to National Socialism. It also includes communist dictatorship, Soviet domination, and the profound social and economic upheavals that followed reunification.
This helps explain why the AfD has achieved particularly strong electoral results across much of eastern Germany.
While it does not amount to an irreversible national divide, it has become a lasting feature of German political life.
Europe: Historical Destiny or Political Choice?
For Konrad Adenauer, Europe represented a historical necessity.
For Helmut Kohl, it embodied the future of the continent.
For a growing share of younger generations, however, the European Union increasingly appears as an institutional framework whose advantages and shortcomings can be openly debated.
That distinction matters.
The AfD generally views the European Union less as a historic political project than as an instrument serving the interests of sovereign nation-states. From that perspective, Germany should not subordinate its national priorities to an ever-deeper process of European integration.
This marks a significant departure from the political culture that has prevailed since the founding of the Federal Republic.
The debate comes at a time when Europe is seeking greater strategic autonomy. Yet the persistent difficulties surrounding the Future Combat Air System (FCAS)—the joint Franco-German-Spanish program intended to develop Europe’s sixth-generation fighter aircraft—illustrate the enduring limits of European integration whenever national sovereignty, strategic technologies, and industrial leadership are at stake.
The recurring disagreements between Paris and Berlin over governance of the program serve as a reminder that national interests continue to weigh heavily—even between the two countries traditionally regarded as the driving force behind European integration
Russia: A Lasting Break or a Return to Pragmatism?
Russia’s invasion of Ukraine fundamentally reshaped German foreign policy.
The model that had long relied on close economic cooperation with Moscow was called into question, while the energy dependencies built over decades were significantly reduced.
The AfD has sharply criticized this shift, arguing that sanctions against Russia and the dismantling of Germany’s energy partnership with Moscow have weakened the country’s industrial base and undermined its economic competitiveness.
Beyond Russia itself, however, the debate points to a broader question: should German foreign policy be guided primarily by moral and political principles, or by a pragmatic assessment of national interests?
That question is likely to remain at the center of Germany’s strategic debate long after the war in Ukraine has ended.
Israel: The Most Revealing Fault Line
No issue better illustrates the tensions within contemporary Germany than its relationship with Israel.
For decades, successive German governments have regarded Israel’s security as part of Germany’s Staatsräson—its reason of state. This doctrine stems directly from Germany’s historical responsibility for the Shoah.
For Berlin, relations with Israel go far beyond conventional diplomacy. They form an essential component of the Federal Republic’s moral and political identity.
The AfD occupies a distinctive position on this issue.
The party expresses strong support for Israel, denounces Islamist antisemitism, and views Iran as one of the principal threats to regional stability in the Middle East.
Yet this support is often grounded less in Germany’s historical responsibility arising from the Holocaust than in geopolitical, security, and civilizational considerations.
That distinction reaches the very heart of Germany’s national narrative.
It raises a broader question: can support for Israel remain a cornerstone of German policy while resting on different political and historical foundations?
The New Antisemitism
For several years—and especially since the October 7, 2023 Hamas attacks—Germany has witnessed a profound shift in the national debate over antisemitism.
For decades, antisemitism was primarily associated with the far right and the legacy of National Socialism.
That reality has by no means disappeared.
However, German authorities, academic researchers, and Jewish organizations have also documented the growing visibility of other forms of antisemitism: Islamist antisemitism, the importation of Middle Eastern conflicts onto German streets, and radicalization within segments of the far left.
These developments have significantly altered Germany’s public debate.
They have also exposed a difficult paradox.
Modern Germany has built much of its political identity around remembrance of the Holocaust. Yet today it increasingly faces forms of antisemitism that do not originate directly from Germany’s own historical past.
For some policymakers, this new reality requires a reassessment of integration policies, domestic security, immigration, and strategies to combat political extremism.
Others argue that these emerging challenges must never dilute Germany’s unique historical responsibility for the crimes of the twentieth century.
Whatever position one takes, the debate has fundamentally changed.
The central question is no longer simply how to preserve the memory of the Holocaust.
It is also how to ensure the physical security of Jewish communities in twenty-first-century Germany.
This evolution is prompting a reassessment of many analytical frameworks inherited from the postwar era. More broadly, it reflects an ongoing redefinition of the relationship between historical memory, national identity, and contemporary politics
Can Collective Memory Remain Unchanged?
Behind these debates lies an even more fundamental question.
For decades, Germany has undertaken a process of historical reckoning unmatched anywhere else in Europe.
National Socialism, the Holocaust, and the Second World War have become defining elements of the country’s political identity.
Yet a new question is beginning to emerge.
Can a nation remain indefinitely organized around the same relationship with its past as the generations who experienced that past gradually disappear?
The issue is not forgetting.
The issue is transmission.
How can a nation preserve its historical legacy while allowing new generations to define their own political priorities?
That may well be one of the defining debates of contemporary Germany.
The Italian Precedent
Italy offers an instructive comparison.
Before taking office, Giorgia Meloni was widely portrayed as a major threat to Europe’s political balance.
The realities of governing proved more nuanced.
Institutional constraints, economic realities, and international commitments all contributed to a process of political normalization.
Could the same phenomenon occur with the AfD?
No one can answer that question with certainty.
But it is a possibility worthy of careful consideration.
History has repeatedly shown that opposition parties often govern differently than they campaign, once confronted with the responsibilities and constraints of power.
Whether the AfD would follow a similar trajectory remains an open question.
A New Definition of Germany?
The central question may not be whether the AfD will one day enter government.
The more consequential question is whether Germany itself is entering a new phase of its political evolution.
Behind the debate over the AfD lies a deeper transformation: nearly eighty years after 1945, Germany may be beginning to view its past, its identity, and its future through the eyes of a new generation.
The issue is therefore no longer merely electoral.
It is historical.
Can Germany once again become a more traditional nation-state—one more willing to assert its national interests—without abandoning the lessons of its past?
That may be the most consequential political debate unfolding today within Europe’s largest economy.
The AfD may not be its cause.
It may simply be its most visible symptom.
