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Germany's Stance on Russia: No Lessons Learned

  • Autorenbild: Nikolai Klimeniouk
    Nikolai Klimeniouk
  • 12. Feb.
  • 18 Min. Lesezeit

Aktualisiert: 28. Feb.

A weak response to Russia's aggression against Ukraine has damaged German democracy.

Written in December 2024, published in: Strategic Pathways to Ending the Russo-Ukrainian War. The Conference on Russia Papers, University of Tartu Press, 2025. All texts in English


In March 2022, SPD parliamentary leader Rolf Mützenich shows the Bundestag which states have not opposed Russia's war on Ukraine. Screenshot Phoenix
In March 2022, SPD parliamentary leader Rolf Mützenich shows the Bundestag which states have not opposed Russia's war on Ukraine. Screenshot Phoenix

Abstract

Germany’s political landscape is currently being reshaped by its approach to Russia. Public opinion on support for Ukraine remains deeply divided, particularly on military aid, which is often seen through the lens of cultural and historical ties to Russia. A weak response to Russia’s attack on Ukraine and annexation of Crimea has had a massive corrosive effect on German democracy. Political leaders are reluctant to acknowledge past policy failures, such as the appeasement that created energy dependency. While Chancellor Scholz described Russia’s invasion of Ukraine as a turning point, concrete reforms to Germany’s foreign and security policy have been slow to materialise. This reflects a broader hesitation to redefine Germany’s role in European security and global geopolitics. Cultural narratives, political traditions, and economic interests complicate efforts to change Germany’s strategic posture. Resistance to breaking with past practices, as well as the influence of pro-Russian sentiments in parts of the political spectrum, hinder decisive action. Calls for negotiation and diplomacy persist, often coupled with mischaracterisations of Russia’s motives as rational or oriented toward peace. Ultimately, the challenges of dealing with Russian aggression underscore Germany’s struggle to adapt to changing geopolitical realities while grappling with its historical legacies and entrenched perspectives.

Keywords: German Politics, Russia’s War against Ukraine, Appeasement, Zeitenwende


How Russia Shapes Germany’s Political Landscape

As Germany heads towards early elections in February 2025, the issue of Russia, and particularly its ongoing war of aggression against Ukraine, looms large in the political debate. The very fact that the elections – originally scheduled for October 2025 – are being brought forward has to do with Russia: The decision was prompted by the collapse of the ruling ‘traffic light’ coalition of Social Democrats (SPD), Greens, and Liberals (FDP), which could not find common ground on how to deal with the financial difficulties caused by the war.


Russia’s war against Ukraine has not only put a strain on Germany’s finances; it has also exacerbated domestic political tensions. On the one hand, there is broad public approval for providing financial aid to Ukraine, with recent polls showing steady support for such assistance. Military aid, on the other hand, is much more controversial, with the German public divided roughly down the middle. According to various polls, around 50% of Germans oppose sending weapons to Ukraine, while the other half are either in favour or unsure. News from the front lines and other factors can move the numbers significantly in either direction. In February 2024, support peaked at 62% (ZDF-Politbarometer 2024).  In September, it was down at 38% (Statista 2024a).


The willingness to support Ukraine in its war against Russia is currently reshaping Germany’s political landscape across party lines. Chancellor Olaf Scholz’s (SPD) decision to rule out the supply of Taurus cruise missiles and SPD parliamentary leader Rolf Mützenich’s proposal to freeze the ‘conflict’ have won praise from the far-right AfD and the authoritarian left-wing, openly pro-Russian BSW while facing criticism from coalition partners and fellow Social Democrats.


The Greens, who remain in a minority government with the SPD, no longer adhere to any coalition discipline. Their top candidate, Robert Habeck, announced that he would supply Taurus missiles to Ukraine if he were elected head of government. Friedrich Merz, leader of the conservative Christian Democrats (CDU), and FDP politician Marcus Faber, chairman of the defence committee, are also in favour of supplying Taurus missiles. The public, however, has a different opinion: according to a survey carried out by the public broadcaster ARD in November 2024, 61% are against the prospect and only 27% support it unequivocally, including the permission to hit targets inside Russia (ARD-DeutschlandTREND 2024).


For years in Germany, the war that Russia launched against Ukraine in February 2014 was stubbornly referred to as a ‘conflict,’ as if Ukraine was somehow to blame. This reluctance to distinguish between right and wrong has also been seen in other contexts, such as the refugee crisis and the COVID pandemic. Russia was involved in these too, and the term ‘hybrid war’ became a household word in Germany. On the other hand, ‘hybrid war’ was very helpful in shifting responsibility. However, it was not Russian agents who repeatedly invited Russian lobbyists or Sahra Wagenknecht to talk shows on public television, despite all objections from experts. Wagenknecht knew how to play the media, and it was the German media that made her a major political player.


The new Sahra Wagenknecht Alliance (BSW) is polling between 4 and 8 percent nationally, and according to an Allensbach survey in February 2024, the most frequently cited substantial motive (49%) for supporting the BSW was its stance on Russia (Petersen 2024). 24% of respondents consider the BSW a viable option, rising to 40% in eastern Germany. Wagenknecht and most of the key figures in her alliance are defectors from the Left Party, which has shown less unity in opposing support for Ukraine. After the BSW entered the scene in January 2024, the Left Party was catapulted into utter irrelevance. In July, the BSW won 6.2% of the vote in the European elections and an impressive 13.48%, 11.8%, and 15.8% respectively in regional parliamentary elections in the eastern states of Brandenburg, Saxony, and Thuringia in September. The far-right AfD, which is not yet considered a legitimate coalition partner, won around 30% of the vote, forcing the democratic parties into coalition talks with the BSW. In these talks, the federal party leader Sahra Wagenknecht, contrary to German political tradition, personally led the negotiations and made foreign policy and defence issues, namely opposition to military support for Ukraine and the stationing of nuclear-capable US intermediate-range missiles in Germany, a condition for her party to join the regional governments.


For Wagenknecht, it does not really matter that regional political institutions have no say in foreign policy and defence. She clearly positions the BSW as a force with a very limited yet ambitious agenda: appeasement towards Russia, disarmament, and withdrawal from NATO. As well, the opportunistic ‘realpolitik’ of its regional coalition partners, the SPD and CDU, gives her the desired leverage over federal politics. Faced with this pressure, Chancellor Scholz and his SPD have chosen to posture as considerate peacekeepers while branding all democratic contestants as reckless warmongers.

 

How the Annexation of Crimea Undermined German Democracy

These developments did not happen overnight. For years, the tacit acceptance of Russia’s attack on Ukraine and the annexation of Crimea has deeply compromised German democracy in ways that remain insufficiently understood. While it has become a matter of routine to criticise the flawed policy towards Russia – such as sending the wrong signals that emboldened Russia’s ruler Putin to launch a large-scale invasion – these same signals have also been received domestically. Leading newspapers featured reports from their correspondents detailing severe human rights abuses in Russia, including kidnappings, assassinations and torture, suppression of the free press, persecution of minorities, and widespread ideological indoctrination. Nevertheless, the same outlets also published opinion pieces and petitions advocating sympathy for Russia’s actions and suggesting that Ukraine cede occupied territories in the interest of peace.


The decisions made by German politicians, the Minsk agreements imposed on Ukraine, and, most notably, the construction of the Nord Stream 2 pipeline, largely followed this line of argument. In Germany, actions associated with Russia somehow magically remain without consequences. The hacking attack in May 2015 brought the Bundestag to a standstill for several days, and a lot of sensitive data was stolen. Investigators suspected early on that it was an operation by Russian intelligence, but unlike the NSA affair, it did not cause a public outcry. It took the German government five years to officially accuse Russia and impose sanctions. Suspicion alone would have been enough to curtail cooperation. Instead, parts of critical energy infrastructure, namely a quarter of all German gas storage facilities, were sold to a Gazprom subsidiary in 2015. This project had previously been put on hold following the annexation of Crimea. Russia, too, has fallen back on its old tricks. In 2016, it attempted to incite riots across Germany by inventing a story of a rape of a Russian-German teenage girl by refugees, destroyed cities in Syria to save the dictator Assad from being toppled and drive even more people to flee to Europe, and carried out a hacking attack on the CDU party headquarters. In the same year, then Foreign Minister Frank-Walter Steinmeier (SPD), now in his second term as Federal President, criticised NATO for “sabre-rattling” (Reuters 2016) against Russia and called for more dialogue and cooperation: 


“I believe that a look at the legacy of Willy Brandt’s Ostpolitik and policy of détente can help us to find answers. Not least because it was based on his simple yet still valid observation that ‘Russia is our largest European neighbour’” (Auswärtiges Amt 2016).


There was no clearer message sent to German society that democratic values are negotiable, the countries between the “neighbours” Germany and Russia negligible, and that human dignity is not to be taken seriously—at least not when it comes to the dignity of others. This is most evident in the expectation that Ukrainians should voluntarily choose to live under tyranny rather than in a democracy, however imperfect. According to a recent survey by Statista, 52% of Germans think that Ukraine should give up the occupied territories and only 34% believe that Ukrainians should continue to fight for their liberation (Statista 2024b). 


The Ukrainian artist Lia Dostlieva’s description of her conversations with German colleagues and visitors to art events is an unsparing summary of this attitude:


“In the eyes of Westerners, Ukrainians attempting to speak about the war in their country are not seen as people like them whose homes were invaded by Russian soldiers and rockets—they are exotic Others. This othering occurs by assigning trauma to the community and perceiving traumatic experiences as their sole identity. The exoticism of the Other revolves around its borderline nature and the inability to imagine their experiences and comprehend their suffering. The ability of this Other to endure such suffering even appears compelling and admirable […] This traumatic exoticization neatly aligns with other existing stereotypes about Ukraine and Eastern Europe.


When someone from a ‘first-world’ country tells you, in a sympathetic manner, “I can’t imagine how you endure all that. I wouldn’t be able to,” what often remains unsaid is the ending of this sentence: “...but I know I don’t actually need to imagine that because this would never happen to me.” Like that woman who, commenting on the flood caused by the consequences of climate change, said: “You don’t expect people to die in a flood in Germany. You expect it maybe in poor countries but not here”. Wars and disasters happen in ‘rough spots’ on the outskirts of civilization. ‘Never again’ actually means ‘never again for us’” (Dostlieva 2024).


Despite all the declarations of solidarity with Ukraine, a large part of the German public still finds it difficult to see the war from the perspective of freedom and justice. In Poland or the Baltic states, the idea that Ukraine is defending not only itself but the whole of Europe is something of a given (Kuisz and Wigura 2023). In Germany, on the other hand, it comes across as impertinence – or even coercion. President Volodymyr Zelensky, who asks for more weapons, is often portrayed as a shameless beggar. What is expected of Ukraine in return for military and financial aid is more than mere gratitude. Ukraine must constantly justify its existence and apologise for the inconvenience it causes.

 

How the German Empire Lives on in the Federal Republic

There are several reasons for this lack of empathy and inability to change perspectives. In the lifetimes of all German citizens and their not-so-distant ancestors, Germany has never fought a war of defence or a war of liberation, nor has it sided with countries that have done so. The only perspective from which German society can view a war is that of the aggressor, the only fighting party, which has the freedom both not to start the war and to end it unilaterally. Now, Germany is on the side of those who defend themselves, which is a new experience that has yet to be processed.


Years of reckoning with the past and ideological demilitarisation have led Germans to believe that not wanting war is the best way to prevent it. The focus on the National Socialism and, more recently, imported decolonial discourses, on the other hand, have obscured the view of Germany’s past as an empire (which it remained until 1945) whose conquests took place mainly in Central and Eastern Europe. Until 1918, the Reich actually bordered on the Russian Empire and, from 1939, the Soviet Union. The idea that Ukraine should “give up some territory” for the sake of peace bizarrely echoes the late 19th-century perception that political differences between European countries, from republican France to the absolutist Russia, were non-essential at the level of ‘ordinary people,’ if one chooses to ignore all non-privileged groups, be they women or ethnic or religious minorities. Seen in this light, the outcome of a European war is a mere shifting of borders with little or no effect on the lives of the population, a change of jurisdiction rather than subjection to entirely new circumstances, and very likely, oppression, forced assimilation, and genocide.  Or, in the words of Ukrainian human rights lawyer Oleksandra Matviichuk,


“Occupation is the same war, just in a different form. Occupation is not just changing the national flag from one to another. Occupation means enforced disappearances, rape, mass deportations, torture, forced adoption of your children, erasure of your identity, filtration camps and mass graves” (Matviychuk 2024).


However, the former imperial centre is highly suspicious of the mere desire for independence and self-determination and tends to regard it as a manifestation of nationalism, which in turn is rarely seen as an emancipatory movement but rather as an evil right-wing ideology, essentially related to National Socialism and in itself a cause of violence. This partly explains why so many Germans are unmoved by the fact that Russia’s war against Ukraine is the first war of aggression waged by a dictatorship against a democracy in recent decades, preferring the convenient scheme of ‘real country’ vs. ‘breakaway province.’

 

How Calls for Peace are not about Peace at All

Nothing reflects this attitude better than the numerous ‘appeals for peace’ published in the German media since 2014. One of the first such documents was also arguably one of the most impactful. The statement entitled “War in Europe again? Not in Our Name!” (Zeit-Online 2014), published in December 2014, eleven months into the war, was signed by 60 people, including Russia lobbyists, former Chancellor Schröder, former President Herzog, and a number of former ministers, heads of federal states, and other prominent figures in German politics. Ten years later, it reads almost like one of Putin’s fuzzy, revisionist speeches: Russia’s legitimate security concerns were ignored, and it was threatened by “the expansion of the West to the East.” The text is replete with absurd geographical assertions, such as the mention of a European security order stretching from Vancouver to Vladivostok, and outright falsehoods, like the claim that Russia’s fears were justified after NATO invited Ukraine and Georgia to join in 2008. In reality, both countries’ NATO applications were postponed indefinitely, and Russia invaded Georgia in that same year. With even a former chancellor and top security officials portraying the alliance as a terrifying threat, it is hardly surprising that anti-NATO rhetoric of openly anti-Western political forces such as the AfD and the BSW finds a receptive audience among sections of the German electorate.


As one could expect, it was Sahra Wagenknecht (in collaboration with former feminist icon Alice Schwarzer) who has initiated two of the most resonant appeals to stop arms deliveries to Ukraine. The first, addressed to Chancellor Scholz and entitled ‘Manifesto for Peace,’ was published in February 2023 and has since gathered almost a million signatures on Change.org (Schwarzer and Wagenknecht 2023). Among the first signatories were a significant number of former high-ranking politicians and public figures. The document contains a half-hearted, obligatory phrase of solidarity ‘with the population of Ukraine,’ but otherwise it speaks mainly of the Germans’ own fear and clearly blames Ukraine for it. “President Zelensky makes no secret of his goal,” the manifesto says, “he wants even more weapons to defeat Russia across the board.” “A Ukrainian attack on Crimea” could trigger a world war. It almost sounds as if Ukraine had invaded its neighbour, and as if it was not Russia with its dictator, but the “warmongering” Zelensky, who threatens the world.


The document provoked much criticism, but its choice of words was not untypical of German discourse on Ukraine. The word ‘population’ suggests that there is probably no sovereign Ukrainian nation, as former Social-Democratic Chancellor Schmidt claimed in 2014 (Bild 2014), or that Russian-speaking Ukrainians do not belong to it. So persistent is this idea that the manifesto even mentions the ‘traumatised people’ in the same breath as the Russian death toll. The ‘attack on Crimea’ is only a little harsher than the usual formulations of ‘reconquest’ or ‘territorial win’; sometimes there is talk of Ukrainian territorial wins, sometimes of Russian ones, as if it were a game and territories were the prize. Framed in this way, the idea that the Ukrainians should be less fussy and give up a bit of land does not sound entirely wrong.


The latest manifesto, initiated by Wagenknecht and Schwarzer, was published on 4 December 2024 and bears the dramatic title “Appeal of the 38: One minute to twelve” (Emma 2024). In yet another stunning display of cynicism and fearmongering, it points to the dire situation of the Ukrainian army due to a shortage of weapons, only to demand that arms supplies be stopped altogether:


“Instead of doing everything they can to defuse the highly dangerous situation, the CDU, FDP and the Greens now want to supply Ukraine with Taurus missiles. This would enable Zelensky to launch pinpoint attacks on targets deep inside Russia. Since these missiles have to be programmed by Bundeswehr soldiers, the delivery of the Taurus would almost be tantamount to a declaration of war by Germany against the nuclear power Russia. It would almost certainly provoke a military response from Russia.

[…]

No side can or will win the war in Ukraine. If the weapons do not fall silent soon, we run the risk of losing all together. Never since the end of World War II has the threat of a nuclear war in Europe been as great as it is now. We must avert it before it is too late.”


Recent German peace manifestos commonly advocate for negotiations but differ on who should be the negotiating parties. Perspectives on the war in Ukraine vary between viewing it as a proxy war between the US-led West and Russia or as a war in which Ukrainian nationalists refuse to give up territory to which Russia has a more or less legitimate claim. Either way, these assertions imply that there is a desire for peace on both sides, and that there is indeed a conflict over some reasonable interests that can be resolved peacefully. For this scheme to work, the proponents of diplomatic solutions attribute to Russia motives it lacks, such as genuine security concerns, an honest interest in peace, and an intention to avoid the loss of human life.


The argument for negotiation often includes the claim that weapons only prolong conflicts and that no war has ever been resolved by force. This perspective is particularly striking in Germany, a country that was defeated in two world wars, in both of which it was the aggressor. However, this kind of rhetoric is not confined to the political fringes. A prominent advocate of diplomacy in the political centre is Rolf Mützenich, one of the most influential figures in the Social Democratic Party. In his Willy Brand Lecture, a programmatic speech in the election campaign, after a sober analysis of the threats and an explicit mention of Putin’s imperialist ambitions, he urged more negotiations:


“After three years of war (sic!), we have to recognise that the war is probably not being decided on the battlefield alone. In recent months, neither Russia nor Ukraine has been able to make significant territorial wins. At the same time, reports of the use of North Korean soldiers and Yemeni mercenaries show that the war is threatening to spread ever further.


The consequences of such an escalation would be devastating – not only for Ukraine and Europe, but for the entire world. Therefore, we must continue to intensify our diplomatic efforts to prevent a further escalation of the war – regardless of how ‘realistic’ it may currently appear” (Mützenich 2024).


Two years earlier, Mützenich had pleaded for more diplomacy in the hope that “the belligerents would agree on measures to make this war less cruel,” that “the countless dead Russian soldiers would trigger a rethink in Russia,” and that it would “come to realise that this war is a crime and a colossal mistake” (Reinecke 2022). Now that none of this has happened, instead of recognising the fundamental failure of such efforts, Mützenich, firmly socialised in the concept of peace through dialogue, continues to cling to Willy Brandt’s legacy of détente.

 

How the Zeitenwende Never Happened

In his recent speech, Mützenich explicitly referred to Chancellor Scholz’s policy statement of February 2022. In it, Scholz described Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine as Zeitenwende, a “turning point” or “watershed” in the world order (Scholz 2022). Rhetorically, although Scholz did not explicitly mention any mistakes, it was a departure from the policy of a cavalier attitude towards Russia’s transgressions while at the same time creating economic interdependence in the spirit of détente. The Chancellor announced an impressive catalogue of measures to be taken immediately and declared the need for a strategic rethink. Despite his firm tone, Scholz left the door open for a possible return to the old ways by making it all about Putin:


“With the attack on Ukraine, Putin is not just seeking to wipe an independent country off the map. He is demolishing the European security order that had prevailed for almost half a century since the Helsinki Final Act. He is also isolating himself from the entire international community. […] Our guiding principle remains the question of what will have the greatest impact on those responsible. The individuals this is about. And not the Russian people. Because Putin, not the Russian people, has decided to start this war. And so it must be clearly stated that this war is Putin’s war! It is important to me to specify this. Because reconciliation between Germans and Russians after the Second World War is – and remains – an important chapter of our shared history.”


That door has since turned out to be a portal. Understanding Russia as a long-term threat is the cornerstone of a new approach to national security and a prerequisite for substantial investment. While Russia has rapidly shifted to a war economy, Germany has failed to reform its security apparatus, significantly increase arms production, and provide financial guarantees to the defence industry. This is a failure of both decision-making and political communication. Putting Putin at the centre of the problem makes the solution cheaper and the dream of a strategic partnership with Russia seem closer. Oddly enough, this illusion of an inherently peaceful Russia is actively supported by the exiled leaders of the Russian opposition, such as Yulia Navalnaya, Ilya Yashin, and Vladimir Kara-Murza, who continue to insist that military aggression is Putin’s sole responsibility, turning a blind eye to Russia’s highly militarised and chauvinistic society and without challenging Russian imperialism or calling for Russia’s fundamental demilitarisation, let alone nuclear disarmament.


A real change in policy would also require an acknowledgement of past mistakes by both policymakers and the expert community. Nevertheless, it does not look like that is going to happen any time soon. It is much more attractive to talk about Putin’s deception or even treason. In her recently published memoirs (Merkel 2024), former Chancellor Angela Merkel admits that her perception of Putin changed significantly after Russia’s annexation of Crimea in 2014. Before that, she thought he was strategic and manipulative but did not see him as a “shameless liar.” However, she does not criticise her past policies, such as opposing Ukraine’s NATO membership in 2008 or Germany’s dependence on Russian gas. Instead, she defends them as pragmatic and necessary.


Federal President Frank-Walter Steinmeier, who served as foreign minister in Merkel’s government and as head of Chancellor Schröder’s office, is equally unapologetic. At a ceremony at his residence to mark the 35th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, he was sharply criticised by the writer Marko Martin for his role in Germany’s policy towards Russia and its handling of Eastern European affairs (Sternberg 2024). The speech also included pointed remarks about anti-Polish sentiment in East and West Germany in the 1980s and the marginalisation of Eastern European perspectives in modern EU decision-making. Steinmeier was reportedly outraged and undiplomatic, withholding applause and later confronting Martin directly. He accused the writer of failing to understand the complexities of policymaking, sparking a heated exchange described by those present as a “sharp polemic.”


There is nothing in German social and political life to suggest that the Zeitenwende is actually taking place and that either politicians or their electorates have come to terms with the long-denied reality and learned their lesson. A clear understanding of the challenges posed by Russia is hampered by fear, greed, a sentimental attachment to Russian culture, fragile egos, and deeply rooted political traditions, both of imperial hubris and of the democratic cult of compromise.


 

Works Cited


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