Germany's far-right AfD calls for EU dissolution

AfD demands EU dissolution and ranks second in German polls

Calling for the dissolution of the European Union is no longer a fringe idea in Germany. Alternative for Germany (AfD), the country’s leading far-right party, has included the "orderly dissolution" of the bloc in its platform for the 2024 European elections, proposing direct withdrawal from the EU as a Plan B. Its justification is that it has "run out of patience" with Brussels.

This proposal does not come from the margins of the political spectrum. Polls place this formation as the second force, with 19% voting intention, ahead of the governing party. Nevertheless, it is worth reading the full program before assuming a divorce: the fine print significantly nuances the broad strokes.

What exactly does the AfD program propose?

The text literally calls for "the orderly dissolution of the EU and finding in its place a new community of economic and shared European interests, a federation of European nations." In plain terms: remove the current structure and replace it with something similar, but with less power concentrated in Brussels. The final program is expected to be finalized by late July, according to the party itself.

The paradox is obvious. If the end goal remains a European community with shared interests, the real difference lies not in whether there is a common headquarters, but in how much sovereignty each state retains. Some summarize the frustration in one line: leave so you never have to sign up again.

The 19% backing the challenge

The RTL poll paints an eloquent distribution: the CDU and its Bavarian ally total 29%, AfD scores 19%, the SPD stays at 18%, and the Greens, in fourth place, reach 14%. With these numbers, the German far right is not a footnote: it is the second most voted ballot option in the country.

From this arises a recurring debate. Dismissing as marginal a party that approaches one in five votes is a comfortable way to avoid facing it directly. Conversely, those who treat it as a passing phenomenon haven’t peine a poll in two years.

From common market to regulation factory

The origin was quite different. What began as an agreement to facilitate trade between neighbors —removing tariffs, reducing bureaucracy— has become, in the perception of much of the electorate, a machine producing rules on electric cars, boilers, and building energy efficiency. The further away laws are made, the harder it is for citizens to recognize the problem they claim to solve.

The vinegar in the salad summarizes the most common argument: small things are legislated while big issues escape control. Behind this lurks another, more uncomfortable thesis: that joining the European club and defense treaties wiped out much of the industrial fabric of southern countries.

Who runs Brussels? The problem isn't the building

Not all criticisms target the same objective. One school argues that irritating policies are not consequences of the European institutional design, but of the majorities approving them in the European Parliament and the European Council. If those are the votes, those are the results. Changing the tenants would be more effective than demolishing the house.

The flip side of that argument, according to another thesis circulating in the debate, is structural: Cyprus or Malta would have the same voting power as Germany despite having incomparably smaller populations, reinforcing the feeling that rules aren’t changed from a single capital. Hence proposals for referendums in all member states, with binding votes repeated every few years to decide whether to stay or leave.

What about the peseta, debt, and pensions?

Here the debate becomes uncomfortable, because the scenarios considered for a hypothetical return to national currency are not kind. There is talk of automatic bankruptcy and debt renegotiation, devaluations of 1000%, 4000%, or even 20,000%, pensions equivalent to 300 euros per month, and public salaries cut in half. The Argentine mirror appears in almost all comparisons.

Then there is the British precedent. The UK’s exit is remembered as proof that the unthinkable happens, but also as an example of a country that still blames Brussels for its problems years after leaving.

Why calling for exit might be the best way not to govern?

There is a cynical and widespread reading: announcing rupture is the perfect formula to lack critical mass in votes, and it served the French far right as a perpetual blocking mechanism. The party portrays itself as impossible, thus avoiding the responsibility of managing.

Another interpretation spreads blame among everyone. Those defending full sovereignty assume the country is reduced to a second-rate colony if it stays as is, and also admit the result could look more like chronic bankruptcy than a medium power. The preferred partner in all these plans would be, at best, a one-way ticket.

With AfD at 19% and the 2024 European elections on the calendar, the proposal works more as a thermometer of anger than an executable roadmap. Predicting its effective application is today a speculative exercise. Predicting that the discontent fueling it continues to grow is far less risky.