One experience this autumn can feel quietly satisfying for those of us in Germany: watching the dark, terrifying final season of the hit TV series Babylon Berlin. We know what the people on screen—fearless (a few), frightened (many more), and opportunistic (the majority)—do not. We know their future.
Made by the public broadcaster ARD, Babylon Berlin has run for over 10 years, brilliantly fictionalizing how Germany sleepwalked into Nazism and the Second World War. The fifth and final season begins in January 1933, with Adolf Hitler appointed Reichskanzler.
Our funny, beautiful police detective superheroine Charlotte Ritter and the also beautiful, less funny, and slightly more dubious detective Gereon Rath—both fictional—are still arguing and falling in and out of love as they chase criminals and Nazis, who are becoming indistinguishable. Berlin is still singing, dancing, loving. Newspapers are still being printed. Trains still run. The Jewish lawyer Hans Litten—a historical figure—still believes in German laws and German integrity (the real Litten ended up killing himself in Dachau in 1938).
Watching the show 93 years after the events it depicts, I constantly want to shout at the screen: turn left here—you can kill Hitler at this dinner, and the Reichstag won’t burn, and it will all end differently. Wake up, I want to scream at the opportunistic majority—don’t you understand what is happening?
They don’t, of course. They turn the other way and fail to kill Hitler. Because facts are facts. The dramatists accurately describe February 1933 as the month when German society was radically torn apart at extraordinary speed because of mistakes made by party leaders and others who could still have stopped it all.
The timing could hardly be more apt. Babylon Berlin began streaming in 2017, the year the far-right Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) entered the Bundestag for the first time with 12.6% of the vote. Nine years on, the AfD has become my country’s dominant political force. In September it won 44% of the vote in state elections in Saxony-Anhalt and 38.3% in Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania. In the latter contest, Chancellor Friedrich Merz’s CDU dropped to 4.9% and didn’t even win enough votes to enter the state parliament—an unprecedented humiliation.
It is therefore quite tempting to watch Babylon Berlin and see ourselves in those historic times. But does that make sense? It does, but not in the way you might expect.
There are not millions of desperate unemployed people on today’s German streets, nor paramilitary armies fighting heated battles. There is no Versailles trauma, and the last global financial crisis was in 2008. There is no German president systematically replacing parliamentary government with emergency rule.
The German men’s football team coach, Jürgen Klopp, recently advised the nation to look at its strengths rather than constantly stare at what is not working, so let’s start there. Germany has a strong constitutional court system and powerful federal states; it has, with help from its partners, created and maintained European integration, along with an established democratic culture and institutions designed explicitly because of the lessons of Weimar. Our European Germany in 2026 is not Weimar Germany in 1933.
But there is another connection between Babylon Berlin and us as German spectators today—an echo that is more subtle and more interesting. It lies in this conviction that everything is falling apart. Here the wonderfully tongue-breaking term selbsterfüllende Prophezeiung (self-fulfilling prophecy) comes into play.
Germany excels at the one thing no country should aspire to be good at. We are constantly describing ourselves as a country in terminal decline. Just spend an evening watching political talkshows or listening to peLook around you, and you’ll conclude that we’re watching the final collapse of a failed state. The trains are always late. Bridges and streets are falling apart. Schools are failing, and German children are falling behind in the Pisa rankings. Bureaucracy is choking businesses, taxes are sky-high, and the money is spent poorly. Isn’t energy too expensive, and our pension system unsustainable? Immigration is out of control. Our digital transformation is a joke. And our car industry is on its knees. On top of that, we lost to Ecuador and Paraguay at the World Cup. The government can’t agree on how to fix any of this, because support for the two big mainstream parties—the centre-right CDU and the centre-left SPD—is shrinking, and coalitions between parties that hate each other have become more complicated and fragile than ever. Some of this is true—painfully so.
I started writing this on a train from Hamburg to Tübingen via Stuttgart that was two hours late. Someone at Deutsche Bahn (or an AI, of course) then decided that since we were already so late, the train would end in Mannheim. I had to cancel my plans, turn around, and go home. That’s how you spend a day in modern Germany.
But something much bigger than my personal problem has emerged: our national story of failure has developed a troubling relationship with reality. Germany’s seasonally adjusted unemployment rate climbed back above 3 million in September, and inflation reached 3.3%.
In public broadcasting, talk of reform has been “imminent” for over a decade—but instead of building the strongest, most robust system possible, one that could actually withstand shocks, there are just more meetings, more reports, and more commissions of inquiry.
The biggest problem, though, is Germany’s belief in the enormity of its problems. And this is exactly where Babylon Berlin and its look at 1933 becomes a more relevant companion to 2026 than the “Weimar is back” cry suggests.
Democracies become vulnerable when people stop believing that democracy can deliver. The destruction of Weimar was preceded by such a loss of faith. The circumstances were and are fundamentally different now. But one political mechanism is recognisable: the extreme right has a brief and simple story to tell.
Close the borders. Deport those people we don’t know. Ignore Brussels. Stop paying Ukraine. Bring back cheap Russian energy and abolish stupid climate rules. Put Germany first.
Our society seems scared and exhausted from years of crisis after crisis, and from alarming talk of never-ending crises tomorrow. The AfD understands this and knows how to turn every minor, unresolved problem into evidence that “das System” is rotten. My cancelled train is no longer just a cancelled train, but proof of national doom. The brilliance of declinism lies in the fact that it is self-confirming. Once you’ve accepted that the country is collapsing, you see nothing but evidence for it.
Would we recognise the end of our democracy if it were happening today, and to us? Or, instead, would we recognise the strength of our democracy if it were not ending?
There is a danger in catastrophising so much that we stop noticing resilience, and progress, and that many things work just fine. German angst becomes German cynicism; cynicism turns to contempt; and finally, contempt will make the AfD’s promise of destruction sound like the renewal we all need.
We can and must tell the other, true story, of a country that has found trusted friends and partners.and therefore a peace that has lasted for 80 years, along with economic, political, cultural, and scientific achievements that most nations can only dream of — even in football (though those days are becoming harder and harder to remember). This is not 1933 all over again, but it is a serious moment. And it is a good moment to remember that, in dangerous times, a democratic coalition needs to govern as decisively, effectively, and empathetically as it possibly can.
Klaus Brinkbäumer, a former executive editor at Der Spiegel, is a podcast and TV host in Germany and has published nine books.
Frequently Asked Questions
Here is a list of FAQs based on the article The mood in Germany is grim But the Weimar narrative is a trap set by the far right by Klaus Brinkbumer
Beginner Questions
1 What is the main point of this article
The article argues that while Germany is facing serious problems comparing the current situation to the 1930s Weimar Republic is a dangerous mistake The author says this comparison is a trap set by the far right to make people think democracy is doomed and that authoritarianism is the only answer
2 What was the Weimar Republic
The Weimar Republic was Germanys democratic government from 1919 to 1933 It was a time of deep instability economic crisis and political violence It ended when Adolf Hitler and the Nazi Party took power
3 Why are people comparing todays Germany to the Weimar Republic
People make this comparison because of current problems like a struggling economy the rise of the farright AfD party and political disagreements The mood in Germany is indeed grim so the comparison feels natural to some
4 Who is the far right in Germany today
The main farright party in Germany is the Alternative for Germany The article warns that this party and its supporters use the Weimar narrative to gain power
5 What does Weimar narrative mean
It is a story or belief that says The Weimar Republic failed because democracy was too weak Therefore we need a strong authoritarian leader to fix things The far right uses this story to justify their antidemocratic goals
6 Is the article saying Germany is fine and has no problems
No The author admits the mood is grim and that Germany has real issues The point is that the solution is not to give up on democracy but to fix the problems within the democratic system
7 What is the trap mentioned in the title
The trap is believing the Weimar comparison If you believe democracy is destined to fail you might accept or even welcome a strongman leader The far right wants you to fall into this trap
8 What is a simple example of the Weimar narrative being used today
An example would be a politician saying Look at the chaos in Berlin Just like in 1932 We need a leader who can cut through the red tape and
