In the spring of 2026, events occurred in German philosophy and political life that, at their intersection, illuminate a sinister trend in the probable formation of the Federal Republic’s social landscape over the next two and a half years, culminating in the Bundestag elections in early 2029.

On March 14, 2026, the renowned philosopher and sociologist Jürgen Habermas passed away in Starnberg, and just a week later, on March 25, the film director and philosopher Alexander Kluge died in Munich. The death of Habermas deeply shook German society, as for half a century he had invisibly shaped the public opinion of the middle class—at least that segment which usually casts its vote for the SPD in elections. Kluge, better known as a feature film director than as a thinker, was nonetheless an integral part of the second generation of the Frankfurt School, having co-authored works on critical social philosophy with Oskar Negt that expressed the continuity of the views of the first and second generations of the School. It is also remarkable that Kluge’s co-author, Oskar Negt, passed away quite recently: he died in Hanover on February 2, 2024. Finally, another well-known philosopher of this circle, Claus Offe, who in his younger years worked as Habermas’s assistant, was inscribed into this grim pattern in the same way. He died on October 1, 2025.

The overall picture is that within just two years and two months, all the leading representatives of the second generation of the Frankfurt School suddenly departed, an unprecedented occurrence in the history of philosophy. It should be clarified here that they were all of advanced age: Offe was 85 at the time of his death, Negt 89, Kluge 94, and Habermas 96. If one adds to this list Karl-Otto Apel, who died in 2017 at the age of 95, a picture emerges of their incredible creative, intellectual, and physical longevity. From this perspective, what is surprising is not so much the successive passing of these philosophers, but rather their ability to remain on the agenda of German political and public life until their final days. This applies primarily to Jürgen Habermas, whose views directly influenced the mindset of the highly educated segments of society, but Negt, Kluge, and Offe also commanded a stable, albeit smaller, audience than Habermas.

One might assume that only now, when the philosophical and sociological heritage of the second-generation Frankfurt vanguard is fully measurable, can attention to their views be redistributed in a new way. During the lifetimes of Kluge and Negt, their three or four co-authored works did not enjoy significant resonance either in Germany or abroad, which inevitably affected the authority of their thought. However, if one looks at this situation from the point of view of the polemic against Habermas’s views—which, incidentally, underwent significant changes from the mid-1960s to the mid-2020s—the internal discussions in Social Democratic circles, despite their multidimensionality and inconsistency, can be reconstructed most strictly along the line of Apel–Habermas, on the one hand, and Negt–Kluge, on the other. One might also think that research into these discussions, set out in voluminous monographs, has not so much historical-philosophical as current political value. The crisis of left-wing political parties in Germany, visible to all, is directly proportional to a crisis in left-wing thought; thus, the spark that ignited between the two philosophical systems within the second generation of the Frankfurt School can light a fire in anyone who delves into the essence of this long-standing polemic. So, despite these internal disputes, one should not exaggerate and see them as a “war of annihilation.” Quite the contrary: in this dialectical struggle, both sides—the more social one of Negt and Kluge and the more democratic one of Habermas—opened up the possibility of shaping a common legal left-wing agenda, as it was formed during the rule of Helmut Kohl and persisted until the current chancellorship of Friedrich Merz.

The historical parallel, linking left-wing philosophical thought formed in the early 1980s to the CDU/CSU administration, lays the foundations for analyzing current political scene, which I have characterized as the “second sinister event.” In the second half of March 2026, a new political trend crystallized in Germany: according to polls conducted by the institutes INSA, Forschungsgruppe Wahlen, Ipsos, Forsa, Infratest dimap, and Allensbach, the ratings of the CDU/CSU and the AfD first equalized, and then, from the very beginning of April, the CDU/CSU rating began to gradually decline, while the AfD rating began an unwavering climb. According to a new poll conducted by the INSA institute between June 19 and 22, the conservatives’ lag behind the radicals became threatening. The study showed only 21.5% for the CDU/CSU against 29% support for the AfD. And considering the fact that the rating of the conservatives’ current coalition partner, the SPD, fluctuates between 12–13%, it becomes clear that the AfD will pay less and less attention to the opinion of the coalition government parties and is striving for the goal of obtaining an absolute majority in the Bundestag in the 2029 elections.

The sinister nature of the simultaneous passing of Habermas, Negt, Kluge, and Offe and the sharp rise in the ratings of Alice Weidel and Tino Chrupalla’s party eloquently testify to the rupture of the democratic discourse occurring before our eyes, a discourse for which philosophy long served as a pillar. To avoid the impression of painting an overly bleak picture or dramatizing the two events, let us look at who determines the philosophical landscape in Germany today. As in other countries around the world, German philosophers living in an information society are obliged to structure their public appearances with an eye toward the political agenda, increasingly losing the opportunity to make general judgments based on personal positions.

The transformation of philosophers into public intellectuals and the transformation of public intellectuals into political experts has led to a number of negative consequences. Firstly, the figure of the television or internet expert leads philosophers to the erasure of their professional identity. Judging by the statements themselves, distracting from the specific recognizable name, it is difficult to grasp who is actually speaking: a politician, a scientist, or, for example, a writer. The reason for this is that the philosophers themselves consciously avoid heavy, unusual-to-the-ear terms and formulations for the average television viewer. As a result, along with the growth of a personal brand, there is less and less identification of such an expert with a philosopher. Secondly, the overcrowding of political programs, talk shows, and interviews with experts leads to the shrinking of their opinions in the public imagination, which naturally affects the authority of specific specialists.

But let us leave this currently insoluble problem for better times and move on to a direct analysis of the public philosophical field in Germany. There is no more obvious difference between right-wing and left-wing philosophical thought than the topic of migration and the accompanying migration crisis. Here, I proceed from the rather obvious premise that open or disguised right-wingers always advocate for the tightening of migration legislation and, ideally, the closure of both the physical borders of the state and social access to German society for immigrants. And, conversely the protection of migrants and refugees from politics appears as a sign of left-wing thought. Such a criterion simplifies the more complex picture of actually existing political views, yet it allows us to delineate strict boundaries between the two opposing sides. If we exclude the active politicians of the AfD from the analysis, then the right-wing spectrum is in fact represented only by a veiled and well-hidden discourse, tending toward everyday rather than political chauvinism. The most right-wing rhetoric in this spectrum of intellectual life belongs to Thilo Sarrazin, who, after the publication of his 2010 book Germany Abolishes Itself, became the main exponent of intolerance toward migrants. Given the immediate wide resonance caused by the book’s publication, it becomes clear that even before the migration crisis of 2015, German public opinion was deeply permeated by such views.

With the death of Habermas, Negt, Kluge, and Offe, the Germany that stubbornly continued its life since the times of Adenauer has passed away. Now there are none who would live looking back at the left-wing past. The new generation of philosophers does not see a moral or intellectual connection with the Frankfurt thinkers, who, in many respects, contributed to this state of affairs themselves. The withdrawal from the socio-political stage of even the most moderate left-wing philosophers automatically strengthens the right. Just the other day, on July 4 of this year, a large AfD convention was held in Erfurt, where Alice Weidel and Tino Chrupalla were re-elected as co-chairs, which testifies to at least the stability of the leading right-wing political party, which cannot but cause concern in the run-up to the 2029 elections.

Further grave concerns are raised by insistent attempts of the right to change the current political vocabulary, which is especially evident in the example of pushing the concept of “society” out of public discourse and replacing it with the concept of “the people.” This is exactly how Alice Weidel’s speech sounded at the AfD convention in Erfurt in early July of this year. It is interesting to observe two lines of confrontation in the strategy of ideological transformation of media space. On the one hand, there is an attempt to ignore the “elephant in the room” and, as if nothing had happened, explain to television viewers the firmness and immutability of the center’s position. On the other hand, the political mutation of centrists into right-wingers cannot but affect media figures who are increasingly obliged to pay more attention to the problems broadcast by right-wing politicians. And then something emerged that had already begun to be forgotten, namely, a part of public intellectuals, who were usually accustomed to maneuvering between opinions, suddenly found themselves on the side of the left at the level of their premises. Whether these precedents can grow into a long-lasting trend will be apparent in the very near future.