'The Far Right at Full Speed': The Normalisation of Extremism

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There are moments in history when societies discover that ideas they believed had been buried are not dead at all. They have simply been waiting for another political, economic or social crisis to bring them back to the surface.

The renewed rise of the far right is one such phenomenon. Across Europe and beyond, political movements built around aggressive nationalism, anti-immigration rhetoric, cultural exclusion, distrust of liberal institutions and the glorification of national power have been gaining influence. Some are winning elections. Others are reshaping mainstream political agendas without entering government. Still others are finding legitimacy through historical revisionism, military glorification and the language of permanent confrontation.

The argument here is not that the world is simply returning to the 1930s. That comparison would be too simplistic. The more troubling possibility is that we are entering a new political environment in which the lessons of the 1930s and 1940s are being selectively forgotten, while some of their underlying political temptations are being reinvented for the twenty-first century.

This article examines that possibility through several recent and interconnected developments. First, the Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) victory in the Saxony-Anhalt state election shows how far-right politics can move from the margins towards the centre of electoral competition — even in a country whose modern democratic identity was built partly around confronting its Nazi past. Second, the public glorification of Ratko Mladić in Serbia illustrates how the rehabilitation of violent nationalist figures can turn historical memory itself into a political battlefield. Third, the increasingly confrontational language surrounding Russia, Germany, Ukraine and even the geopolitics of space shows how national power and permanent confrontation are again becoming dominant political languages. Finally, the trajectory of Israel’s far right demonstrates the most painful dimension of this transformation: how the language of security and national survival can be used to defend policies that test the universal principles the post-war order was created to protect.

Taken individually, these developments can be explained as national or domestic disputes. Taken together, however, they suggest something more consequential: humanity may not have forgotten the history of the far right and political extremism, but it is increasingly at risk of forgetting why they became so dangerous in the first place.

Germany’s AfD Victory: When History Returns Through the Ballot Box

The most striking recent development comes from Germany itself. On 6 September, the far-right Alternative für Deutschland won the Saxony-Anhalt state election with 43.8% of the vote, falling short of an absolute majority. It was a historic result for the party and a major shock to Germany’s post-war political establishment.

The significance goes far beyond one regional election. Germany is not simply another European democracy. Its post-war political identity was constructed partly around the rejection of the ideological foundations that produced Nazism. The Federal Republic’s democratic culture has therefore carried a particular historical responsibility: nationalism, racism and political extremism cannot be treated as ordinary fluctuations of electoral politics.

Yet the AfD is no longer a marginal protest party. Its electoral success shows that far-right politics has become deeply embedded within sections of German society. Chancellor Friedrich Merz has again ruled out cooperation with the AfD, but the political dilemma remains: if the party continues expanding its electoral base, can the established parties indefinitely maintain a firewall around it while also addressing the grievances that are driving voters towards it?

Germany’s current political crisis should not be interpreted as a repetition of 1933. The historical circumstances are different, democratic institutions are stronger, and today’s Germany is fundamentally different from the Weimar Republic.

But history does not need to repeat itself exactly to become relevant. The danger lies in normalisation. When increasingly radical positions become part of ordinary political conversation, when exclusionary nationalism is presented as common sense, and when historical responsibility is treated as an obstacle rather than a moral foundation, the boundaries of political acceptability begin to move. The lesson of Germany’s history was never that Germans should permanently feel guilty. It was that no society should assume itself immune to political extremism.

From Mladić to the Football Stadiums: When War Criminals Become National Symbols

At almost the same time, an equally disturbing debate has unfolded in Serbia following the death and burial of Ratko Mladić. The former Bosnian Serb military commander died on 27 August while serving a life sentence after being convicted of genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity for crimes committed during the Bosnian war. His death exposed a profoundly different memory of the past among parts of Serbian society.

Thousands gathered to pay tribute to him. He was buried in Belgrade with military honours, Serbian officials attended memorial and funeral events, and Serbian Orthodox Patriarch Porfirije led the religious service.

The phenomenon went far beyond a private funeral. At the Crvena Zvezda–Partizan football derby on 6 September, a minute of silence was observed for Mladić, supporters displayed a huge image of him and fans chanted his name. This is not simply about Serbia. It is about the politics of memory. A society can disagree about history. It can debate the causes of war, nationalism, statehood and responsibility. But when a person convicted of genocide becomes a hero in stadiums and is honoured by public institutions, the boundary between historical remembrance and political glorification begins to disappear.

This is one way extremist political cultures reproduce themselves. They do not always begin with new ideologies. Sometimes they begin by rewriting old ones. The danger is especially acute in societies where unresolved historical trauma remains politically useful. The past becomes a reservoir from which contemporary nationalism can extract heroes, enemies and grievances. Once violence is converted into honour, the next generation learns not the lesson of war, but its mythology.

From Leipzig to the Moon: National Power as a Permanent Political Language

The contemporary resurgence of hard-edged nationalism also cannot be separated from the return of geopolitical confrontation — on the ground and, increasingly, in space.

The increasingly bitter confrontation between Germany and Russia over Ukraine provides one example. After an attempted drone attack at Leipzig/Halle Airport, the German government said its investigation pointed to Russian involvement and described the incident as part of a broader pattern of hybrid attacks. Moscow rejected the accusation. Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov described the German allegations as the start of a “real war” with Germany. Russia subsequently ordered Germany’s Goethe-Institut centres in the country to cease operations, as diplomatic retaliation escalated on both sides.

The language matters. Once international politics becomes organised around the vocabulary of war, compromise becomes weakness and diplomacy becomes surrender. Every technological incident becomes a possible act of aggression; every political disagreement becomes a national-security issue. This is precisely the kind of environment in which radical nationalism can flourish.

The United States offers another, almost surreal example. On 6 September, Donald Trump posted an image on Truth Social carrying the words “The Moon Is Ours” alongside a US flag. Around the same time, he shared concept designs for a new Space Force service dress uniform described as being inspired by the discipline and functionality of the uniforms in the film Starship Troopers and intended for the “Guardians of the Space Domain”. The imagery is not evidence of fascism, and such comparisons should not be made casually. But the political language is revealing: territory, dominance, national ownership and technological superiority are increasingly being projected beyond the Earth itself.

Meanwhile, the Russia–Ukraine war demonstrates the most destructive version of the same logic. Competing visions of sovereignty, security and historical entitlement have produced a conflict whose consequences extend far beyond the battlefield. The more dangerous trend is therefore not national belonging itself; national identity is a legitimate component of political life. The danger emerges when national interest becomes morally unlimited — when the nation is treated as a justification for actions that would otherwise be unacceptable.

Israel and Its Far Right: When National Security Becomes an Endless Justification

The most consequential recent example of this problem may be found in the Middle East. Israel’s war in Gaza has lasted nearly three years and has produced immense destruction and a severe humanitarian crisis, while far-right political forces in Israel have increasingly moved from radical rhetoric towards proposals involving the large-scale and potentially permanent displacement of Palestinians.

In September 2026, National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir presented a seven-year plan, which he called “Disengagement 710”, aimed at facilitating what he described as the “voluntary emigration” of up to 1.86 million Palestinians from Gaza. The proposal envisages a dedicated government structure, agreements with receiving countries and financial incentives. Its legal, political and humanitarian implications are profound.

After nearly three years of war, the political vocabulary has become increasingly radical. This should concern not only Palestinians or Israelis, but the international community more broadly. The twentieth century taught humanity what can happen when populations are categorised as obstacles to be removed, displaced or collectively punished in pursuit of national objectives. The lesson was supposed to be universal: security cannot become a permanent justification for denying the humanity of another population.

And yet the language of collective punishment, forced displacement and territorial domination continues to return. Germany’s AfD, the Serbian glorification of Mladić, Russian–Western confrontation, Trump’s nationalist rhetoric and the far-right trajectory of Israeli politics are not identical phenomena. They belong to different political traditions, operate in different historical contexts and should not be collapsed into a single category. But each, in a different way, reveals a recurring temptation: to place the nation above universal restraint.

The post-1945 international order was built precisely to prevent that temptation from becoming absolute.

Human rights, international law, the United Nations, humanitarian institutions and the prohibition of genocide were not abstract bureaucratic inventions. They were responses to the realisation that national sovereignty alone could not always protect human beings from state power.

The greatest danger today may therefore be neither the far right nor nationalism in isolation. It is the gradual normalisation of their most extreme forms. When a person convicted of genocide becomes a national hero, when far-right parties become dominant electoral forces, when war becomes the default language of diplomacy, when territorial domination becomes a source of pride, and when civilian suffering is justified as the inevitable price of national security, history is no longer simply repeating itself.

It is being forgotten. Humanity does not need to become less patriotic. It needs to become more conscious of where patriotism ends and dehumanisation begins. The far right’s greatest political victory would not be winning every election. It would be convincing societies that the lessons of the past are no longer relevant.

That is why the question confronting humanity today is not simply whether the far right is returning. It is whether we are once again becoming comfortable with the ideas that made its return possible.

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AfD Germany Europe Far-right