Björn Höcke shielded his eyes from the bright lights as he peered from the stage into the crowds gathered on a square in front of a gothic church in central Cottbus.
Flanked by the slogans “It’s time for real change” and “It’s time to save our country,” the leader of the far-right Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) in Thuringia swept into Cottbus, the second largest city in the state of Brandenburg, for the party’s final rally before a regional election on Sunday that could determine the fate of Germany’s government.
Fresh from an election victory three weeks ago, in which his party secured 33% of the vote, Höcke beamed at the rally participants, addressing them as “fellow patriots”. “I see a lot of women and young men,” he said. “It used to be only old white men who were concerned about the future of … our beloved German Fatherland. Now everyone recognises that they’re affected by the fatal politics of the cartel parties.”
The crowd, numbering a few thousand, holding banners reading: “Fed up to the back teeth”, or “Get the red rats out”, in reference to the Social Democrats, in power in Brandenburg and Berlin, roared with approval. Among them were clusters of young men in their 20s with distinct haircuts and bomber jackets, as well as 14- and 15-year-old school friends Ruben, Willi, Ewell, Kay and Micah, who had turned up to hear Höcke.
“They’re about to write history,” said Micah, 15, wearing a blue AfD T-shirt, clutching a souvenir AfD mug embossed with the motto: “Somebody has to stay awake” in one hand, and clenching the other in a fist which he shook in apparent approval of Höcke. “We can’t vote yet, but we’re ready and waiting for when we finally can.”
The AfD, narrowly leading in the polls ahead of the Social Democrats (SPD), was making a last-minute push in Cottbus, where the party has formed the strongest faction in the city parliament since 2019. With 27% of Brandenburgers still undecided if they will vote at all and if so for whom, campaigning is expected to continue feverishly until the last minute.
About 2.5 million Brandenburgers are eligible to vote on Sunday in what may be one of the smallest German states population-wise, comprising a belt of rural, and suburban settlements surrounding Berlin. Yet, with its predicted boost for the far-right party, the race is drawing a huge amount of attention that belies the state’s size. Three weeks ago, the AfD upended the status quo with its win in Thuringia – the first time a far-right force had won a state election in post-war Germany – accompanied by a strong second place in neighbouring Saxony with more than 30%.
The stakes are high. Höcke, a skilled orator who has pushed for an about-turn in Germany’s culture of Holocaust remembrance and atonement, has been classed as a rightwing extremist by the domestic intelligence agency.
Marianne Spring-Räumschüssel, an AfD representative on Cottbus city council, predicted a “glorious” victory for the AfD, which has been leading the polls in the state for more than a year. “You can smell it in the air.”
As the only state in eastern Germany where the Social Democrats have ruled continuously since German reunification in 1990, Brandenburg’s vote is seen as a particular test for the embattled coalition government of the SPD chancellor, Olaf Scholz, which, according to a poll this week, only 3% of Germans are convinced is good for the country.
With Brandenburg’s vote being viewed as a referendum on Scholz’s government, defeat for the SPD would be of deep symbolic significance, particularly before next autumn’s Bundestag election.
A disappointing performance by the SPD would cause humiliation in Berlin and would probably diminish support for Scholz’s intention to run for a second term.
Dietmar Woidke, Brandenburg’s popular state leader, who has been incumbent for 14 years, has upped the ante by pledging to resign if the AfD wins on Sunday. He has even excluded Scholz from his election campaign – despite the fact he and his wife live in the state capital, Potsdam – fearing the negative impact of his presence.
Either way, Scholz is not likely to come out of the election well. If Woidke wins, “it will be seen as a result of him excluding Scholz. If he loses, it’ll be said this is a defeat for Scholz”, wrote the news magazine Der Spiegel.
The personalised campaign around Woidke, including a picture-driven fireside interview in which he talked about his pets and his playlist, has the cheeky campaign slogan: “Wenn Glatze, dann Woidke” (If you want a skinhead, choose Woidke) – a cryptic reference to his bald head and the most physical of Nazi trademarks.
He has repeatedly attempted to push voters’ attention towards the state’s economic successes. In Cottbus, about 75 miles (120km) south of Berlin, this includes the gleaming new teaching hospital, and plans to transform an old gravel pit into a huge lakeside leisure complex, both a result of multibillion euro funds to help east Germany’s largest coal-producing region to exit from fossil fuels.
At the city’s modern campus technical university, BTU, which has been the recipient of millions of euros of research funding, Indian citizens Twinkle and Kavin, students of World Heritage, and Alwin and Parth, studying masters in Artificial Intelligence, said they had been lured to Cottbus by the resources, and the living costs, which were considerably lower than other German cities.
They had learned about the existence of the AfD, and of the city’s reputation for rightwing extremism and racist attacks only after their arrival, they said. “We were quite shocked and are told the tone towards foreigners has got rawer the more the party has grown in popularity. We have a WhatsApp group in which we are warned against going to certain places, and we take this seriously,” Twinkle said.
“We have thought precisely about what we’d do if they got into power,” Kavin said. “We’d have no choice but to leave”.
Across town at Chekov, an alternative concert venue on the banks of the River Spree, Robert, one of its supporters, said the AfD, which has made clear its plans to cut art subsidies and censor cultural content that does not coincide with its own, has already brought its pressure to bear on the club, “spreading rumours that we’re harbouring left-wing terrorists”. He said he feared that the cuts to its subsidies if the AfD were to gain in strength could be existential.
Young people in particular – who in Thuringia and Saxony voted for the AfD in record numbers – were not properly aware of the dangers the party posed for German democracy, he said.
Hocke talks of doing away with public broadcasting and the licence fee that funds it, of stopping Germany’s military support of Ukraine, and returning to fossil fuels in a rejection of climate change science.
He also touches on the party’s remigration project involving the mass deportation of unwanted foreigners. The slogan: “Remigration – of course” is widely displayed on the mugs and stickers which are distributed to rallygoers.
An organising member of Chekov said he used to join protests against the far-right “but now we feel a sense of ‘What’s the point?’ We’re not going to convince AfD supporters to change their minds. Their ideas are by now too embedded.”
Instead, on the night of the AfD rally, Chekov is concentrating its energies on hosting its own pre-election event at which participants are invited to discuss their fears, voting strategies, and “how to stay strong”, he said.
