Transatlantic Rift: US Demands Germany Open Doors to Far-Right AfD

Paul Riverbank, 12/14/2025US urges Germany to include far-right AfD, straining democracy’s boundaries and transatlantic relations.

Recently, American officials stirred unease by suggesting Germany bring the far-right Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) into its coalition. The proposal didn’t land with a gentle thud; it echoed, instead, with a sharp clang across German politics. To political veterans in Berlin, and even ordinary Germans who still grow up with “never again” as a civic refrain, the proposal missed the mark. Anna Sauerbrey, foreign editor at Die Zeit, didn’t mince words. “Germany has a tradition of noncooperation with such parties and right-wing extremists,” she said, referring to the strict boundaries erected by both parliament and security agencies.

This wasn’t overreaction. Postwar Germany wrote an entire constitution with the lessons of 1933 lurking in the background. The state invested in watchdog commissions, built constitutional safeguards, and, above all, cultivated an immune system against illiberal tides. Those choices were anything but cosmetic. In many German high schools even today, students tour former concentration camps. Bundestag debates are punctuated with reminders of the last time vigilance failed. “It is important for Americans to understand what the AfD stands for,” Amy Gutmann, former U.S. ambassador to Germany, remarked. She pointed out, not for the last time, AfD’s brush with antisemitic rhetoric and its wilful blindspot about Germany’s past.

But if the firewall is robust, it doesn’t silence the AfD. Despite criticism, the party is free to campaign, host rallies, appear on live television—often with boisterous supporters waving flags in small towns, especially across the former East. Still, no mainstream party has found it palatable to actually partner with them. Sauerbrey called this “an informal firewall”—more of a collective judgment than a legal ban. The distinction is crucial, and curiously overlooked by several in the American camp.

Even so, fortunes have shifted. The AfD’s strong showings in the east, in regions still shadowed by the ghost of Soviet rule and the slow churn of post-unification economics, have unsettled traditional parties. Old debates—over immigration, over the meaning of national pride, and even over the retelling of the Second World War—flare up, sometimes with an intensity that those outside Germany struggle to understand. Tech billionaire Elon Musk raised eyebrows earlier this year when he called the AfD “Germany’s best hope,” a comment dismissed in Berlin but seized upon by the party’s boosters. At the Munich Security Forum, Vice President JD Vance described Germany’s stance as a kind of censorship, a claim that triggered notably sharp exchanges behind the scenes.

Where Americans see a question of free expression, many Europeans see a line that, once crossed, leads to consequences still vivid in family histories. Quite a few countries—Denmark, Poland, the Baltic states—are now staking out their own red lines to keep far-right movements at bay. Each strategy is shaped by geography, history, and wounds not fully healed.

Efforts to build cross-Atlantic alliances between right-wing populist groups have also picked up speed. When members of the AfD were toasted at a gala in New York, the symbolism struck some as awkward. Cheers for a “new civic order” prompted as many raised eyebrows as applause, even among U.S. conservatives.

No one can say where this dance leads. Senior German officials insist their firewall will hold, resolute in refusing partnership with the AfD. For them, the virtues of liberal democracy, reconstructed all those decades ago, are not up for renegotiation. In contrast, the White House’s subtle but real support for widening the boundaries of coalition politics in Germany has injected genuine tension into the transatlantic relationship.

Ultimately, the debate turns on memory—and what to do with it now that the world is shifting once again. Maybe it’s true that those who insist on remembering the past aren’t always stuck in it; sometimes, they are simply trying to keep the future from turning out the same way. For now, those lessons echo loudly on both sides of the Atlantic, pressing everyone involved to decide whether holding the line is a virtue or a missed opportunity.

The spirit of democracy in the West is revealing a few cracks—not the kind you notice on the surface, but the slow-edged ones that linger beneath the paint. Just a few years ago, few would have guessed that Berlin, of all places, would be nervously clutching the very ideals that helped it rise from the wreckage of war, while Washington, supposed anchor of the “free world,” was busy asking Germany to bend in ways that made its leaders uneasy.Recently, American officials stirred unease by suggesting Germany bring the far-right Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) into its coalition. The proposal didn’t land with a gentle thud; it echoed, instead, with a sharp clang across German politics. To political veterans in Berlin, and even ordinary Germans who still grow up with “never again” as a civic refrain, the proposal missed the mark. Anna Sauerbrey, foreign editor at Die Zeit, didn’t mince words. “Germany has a tradition of noncooperation with such parties and right-wing extremists,” she said, referring to the strict boundaries erected by both parliament and security agencies.This wasn’t overreaction. Postwar Germany wrote an entire constitution with the lessons of 1933 lurking in the background. The state invested in watchdog commissions, built constitutional safeguards, and, above all, cultivated an immune system against illiberal tides. Those choices were anything but cosmetic. In many German high schools even today, students tour former concentration camps. Bundestag debates are punctuated with reminders of the last time vigilance failed. “It is important for Americans to understand what the AfD stands for,” Amy Gutmann, former U.S. ambassador to Germany, remarked. She pointed out, not for the last time, AfD’s brush with antisemitic rhetoric and its wilful blindspot about Germany’s past.But if the firewall is robust, it doesn’t silence the AfD. Despite criticism, the party is free to campaign, host rallies, appear on live television—often with boisterous supporters waving flags in small towns, especially across the former East. Still, no mainstream party has found it palatable to actually partner with them. Sauerbrey called this “an informal firewall”—more of a collective judgment than a legal ban. The distinction is crucial, and curiously overlooked by several in the American camp.Even so, fortunes have shifted. The AfD’s strong showings in the east, in regions still shadowed by the ghost of Soviet rule and the slow churn of post-unification economics, have unsettled traditional parties. Old debates—over immigration, over the meaning of national pride, and even over the retelling of the Second World War—flare up, sometimes with an intensity that those outside Germany struggle to understand. Tech billionaire Elon Musk raised eyebrows earlier this year when he called the AfD “Germany’s best hope,” a comment dismissed in Berlin but seized upon by the party’s boosters. At the Munich Security Forum, Vice President JD Vance described Germany’s stance as a kind of censorship, a claim that triggered notably sharp exchanges behind the scenes.Where Americans see a question of free expression, many Europeans see a line that, once crossed, leads to consequences still vivid in family histories. Quite a few countries—Denmark, Poland, the Baltic states—are now staking out their own red lines to keep far-right movements at bay. Each strategy is shaped by geography, history, and wounds not fully healed.Efforts to build cross-Atlantic alliances between right-wing populist groups have also picked up speed. When members of the AfD were toasted at a gala in New York, the symbolism struck some as awkward. Cheers for a “new civic order” prompted as many raised eyebrows as applause, even among U.S. conservatives.No one can say where this dance leads. Senior German officials insist their firewall will hold, resolute in refusing partnership with the AfD. For them, the virtues of liberal democracy, reconstructed all those decades ago, are not up for renegotiation. In contrast, the White House’s subtle but real support for widening the boundaries of coalition politics in Germany has injected genuine tension into the transatlantic relationship.Ultimately, the debate turns on memory—and what to do with it now that the world is shifting once again. Maybe it’s true that those who insist on remembering the past aren’t always stuck in it; sometimes, they are simply trying to keep the future from turning out the same way. For now, those lessons echo loudly on both sides of the Atlantic, pressing everyone involved to decide whether holding the line is a virtue or a missed opportunity.