Nostalgia, fear, and the return of familiar shadows by Sabine Fischer

Despite the exaggerated headlines and dramatic outcries, there was no shock in Friedrich Merz’s victory in Germany’s elections on February 23, 2025. On the contrary, it was almost inevitable. Nostalgia is a powerful force, and the Germans, like so many others around the world, have been longing for the "good old days." And for Germany, those good old days were the Merkel years.

Merz is no Merkel, of course. But he is the closest thing to continuity the CDU could offer after the Scholz government collapsed under the weight of economic stagnation, rising living costs, and social unrest. In times of uncertainty, people look for stability, and who better to provide it than the party that governed for sixteen years with Merkel at the helm? Even if Merz lacks her pragmatism, her moderation, and frankly, her charisma, he carries the CDU brand, Germany’s default setting when things go south.

Yet, if Merz’s victory was predictable, the real story of this election lies in the AfD’s rise to second place. And unlike the CDU’s comeback, this one should concern us all.

The AfD’s success is no accident. It is not a protest vote, nor a temporary surge fueled by frustration. It is a deeply rooted shift in Germany’s political landscape, and it reveals a disturbing truth: many former East Germans have simply switched one form of extremism for another.

Decades ago, they lived under Stalinist oppression, where loyalty to the regime was the only way to survive. Today, they embrace a far-right ideology that is no less authoritarian, no less rigid, and no less dangerous. The difference is that now, they no longer feel the need to hide it.

For years, Germany’s political elite tried to dismiss the AfD’s rise as a reaction to migration, economic inequality, or general discontent with mainstream parties. While these factors play a role, they do not tell the full story. The truth is far more unsettling: a significant portion of the electorate in the East has never fully accepted liberal democracy. The same people who once lined up for their monthly rations under the watchful eye of the Stasi now wave blue banners and chant nationalist slogans with an eerie lack of irony.

Germany now faces a dilemma. The CDU victory provides a sense of stability, but it also masks the underlying fractures in German society. The AfD is not going away, and pretending otherwise is dangerous. Ignoring the problem will not make it disappear if anything, it will embolden it.

Merz, for all his faults, understands this. He knows he cannot afford to move too far right, or he risks normalizing the extremism that lurks in the shadows. At the same time, he cannot ignore the anger and resentment that fueled the AfD’s rise. This delicate balancing act will define his chancellorship. Will he choose to confront the far right head-on, as Merkel did? Or will he, like so many conservatives before him, believe he can control the beast without being devoured by it?

History suggests the latter approach never ends well.

Germany’s 2025 election was not a revolution. It was not even a turning point. It was a confirmation of a trend that has been developing for years: a retreat into the familiar, driven by a fear of an uncertain future.

The CDU’s victory may provide temporary relief, but the rise of the AfD is the storm on the horizon. If Germany does not address the deeper issues fueling this shift, economic disparities, political alienation, and the lingering ghosts of its past, it risks waking up one day to find that the nostalgia for the "good old days" has led it straight back into the darkness it thought it had left behind.