GIESSEN, Germany – In a dramatic showdown that underscored Germany's deepening political divisions, more than 20,000 demonstrators flooded the streets of this central university city on Saturday, November 29, 2025, to protest the founding congress of a new youth organization affiliated with the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) party. Organizers hailed the turnout as a resounding rejection of extremism, but the event quickly spiraled into chaos, with road blockades, stone-throwing skirmishes, and police deploying water cannons to contain the crowds. The two-day convention at the Hessenhallen venue proceeded, albeit delayed by over two hours, as AfD leaders decried the actions as "deeply undemocratic" assaults on free assembly.
The protests, coordinated by a coalition of labor unions, anti-fascist groups, and civil society organizations, marked what could be the largest single mobilization against the AfD in recent memory. The Resist alliance (Widersetzen), a nationwide network of activists, trade unions, climate groups, and migrant organizations, spearheaded much of the action. "We will not allow the next generation of violent fascists to organize in the Hessenhallen. In these minutes, tens of thousands of people from Giessen and all over Germany are standing in their way," declared Suraj Mailitafi, a spokesman for the alliance, as crowds chanted "No room for Nazis" and "Smash the AfD" near the Lahn River bridges. Mailitafi’s words echoed a broader sentiment among participants, many of whom arrived via over 200 chartered buses from cities like Berlin, Hamburg, and Frankfurt, transforming Giessen – a town of just 92,000 residents – into a virtual fortress of dissent.
Echoing this resolve, the German Trade Union Confederation (DGB), which organized the day’s largest rally, reported turnout exceeding 20,000 at its central gathering in the city center. Michael Rudolph, DGB district chairman for Hesse and Thuringia, addressed the throng from a makeshift stage, describing the demonstration as an "impressive, visible, and deeply democratic sign against misanthropy and division." Rudolph emphasized that electoral success does not confer democratic legitimacy on the AfD, pointing to the party’s repeated contempt for constitutional institutions, including its flirtations with authoritarian rhetoric and minimization of Nazi-era crimes. "Being democratically elected to parliament does not make the AfD a democratic party," he stated, drawing cheers from a diverse crowd that included students, retirees, families, and immigrant rights advocates waving rainbow flags and banners reading "Peace is when skin color and gender don’t matter."
Hesse’s Interior Minister Roman Poseck (CDU) later estimated total protesters at 25,000 to 30,000 across more than 20 registered events, with up to 5,000 officers from all 16 German states deployed in one of the largest police operations in the state’s history. The scale reflected months of buildup: Pre-event calls on platforms like Indymedia urged "any means necessary" to disrupt the congress, prompting authorities to prepare water cannons, helicopters, armored vehicles, and even sniffer dogs. City officials had cordoned off the Hessenhallen neighborhood, relocating most protests to the eastern bank of the Lahn River to ensure "adequate escape routes," a decision that drew criticism from organizers as favoring "fascists" over democratic expression.
The founding congress itself, attended by around 800 to 1,000 AfD youth delegates despite the disruptions, voted to establish "Generation Deutschland" (GD) as the new wing’s name, rejecting alternatives like reviving the old "Junge Alternative" (JA) moniker or "Jugend Germania." The JA had dissolved earlier in 2025 after Germany’s Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution (BfV) classified it as a "proven right-wing extremist" entity, a label the AfD preemptively distanced itself from to avoid a potential ban. Under the new statute, GD will be more tightly integrated with the parent party, focusing on youth radicalization through anti-immigration campaigns, climate denialism, and opposition to "woke" policies. Jean-Pascal Hohm, a Brandenburg state parliamentarian with documented ties to right-wing subcultures, was elected as the inaugural leader.
AfD co-leaders Alice Weidel and Tino Chrupalla, arriving fashionably late via police escort, lambasted the protests from the podium. "What is being done out there, dear left-wingers, dear extremists – you need to look at yourselves – is something that is deeply undemocratic," Weidel thundered, alleging an attack on one AfD lawmaker en route to the venue. Chrupalla, flanked by Thuringia’s hardliner Björn Höcke, echoed the sentiment, framing GD as a bulwark against "leftist extremism" and migrant "invasion." The party’s confidence stems from its electoral surge: In February’s federal elections, AfD captured over 20% nationally, topping polls in eastern states and eyeing gains in 2026 regional votes. Analysts note that youth wings like GD amplify this momentum, often serving as incubators for more radical ideologies than the main party, much like the JA’s past promotion of ethno-nationalism and Holocaust revisionism.
Yet the day was defined by confrontation. Early morning blockades on the B429 and B49 highways stranded delegates, with protesters chaining themselves to buses and forming human chains at roundabouts. By mid-morning, violence escalated: Demonstrators pelted officers with stones, bottles, and pyrotechnics near the Lahnbrücke bridge, prompting pepper spray and water cannon deployments. The German Press Agency (dpa) reported a group attempting to breach police lines toward the venue, only to be repelled by high-pressure streams. At least 10 people, including officers and activists, sustained minor injuries; the University Hospital Giessen-Marburg treated them ambulantly. One notable incident involved a mob of around 20 masked individuals smashing the windshield of a car carrying young AfD members, captured on video by independent journalists. Separately, AfD parliamentarian René Schmidt reported being assaulted near the hall, sustaining bruises to his face.
Social media amplified the frenzy. On X (formerly Twitter), hashtags like #gi2911 trended with over 50,000 posts by evening, blending triumphant selfies from "Omas gegen Rechts" (Grandmas Against the Right) with outrage over alleged police brutality. Videos showed drummers in colorful "Bunt" (Colorful) marches juxtaposed against helmeted officers shielding delegates. Critics, including Chancellor Friedrich Merz (CDU), condemned the "unpleasant images of clashes between far left and far right," warning of a polarized spectacle that could backfire on moderates. Indeed, AfD sympathizers online crowed that the violence would boost their victim narrative, potentially swelling ranks ahead of eastern state elections.
The unrest rippled beyond politics into daily life. Giessen’s first Advent weekend ground to a halt: Shops shuttered, public transport halted, and bridges like the Konrad-Adenauer-Brücke were sealed, stranding locals and tourists. One shopkeeper told local media the blockades cost her thousands in lost sales, fueling resentment toward both extremes. Environmental group Fridays for Future joined the fray, linking AfD’s climate skepticism to broader "fascist threats," while Die Linke party rallies emphasized solidarity and diversity.
As the sun set, the congress adjourned for the evening, with GD’s statute ratified and Hohm pledging to "fight for a Germany without apology." Protesters vowed to return Sunday, but Poseck urged de-escalation, noting several hundred "violence-prone" elements had hijacked the otherwise peaceful majority. Sunday’s agenda includes logo adoption and strategy sessions, but with tensions simmering, Giessen remains a tinderbox.
This clash encapsulates Germany’s fraught reckoning with its far-right resurgence. The AfD, born from 2015 migrant crisis backlash, has evolved into a normalized force, polling second nationally and governing coalitions in eastern locales. Critics argue GD’s launch signals a youth pivot, grooming militants for street-level agitation akin to 1930s Hitler Youth tactics – a charge AfD dismisses as "hysteria." BfV monitoring continues, with the agency suspending AfD’s own extremist label pending court challenges, highlighting institutional hesitancy.
For residents like 22-year-old student Lena Müller, who joined the DGB march, the protests were cathartic. "We’re not just fighting AfD; we’re fighting for a future where hate doesn’t win elections," she said, holding a sign reading "Bury Fascism." Yet AfD’s Weidel retorted that such fervor only proves the "establishment’s desperation." As federal coalition talks falter amid economic woes – inflation at 3.2%, housing shortages acute – the Giessen standoff foreshadows a polarized 2026, where youth mobilization could tip the scales toward radicalism or renewal.
In the end, Saturday’s tumult – from jubilant drums to water-soaked standoffs – left an indelible mark: Democracy’s defenders mobilized en masse, but at the cost of fractured streets and amplified grievances. Whether this galvanizes anti-AfD unity or entrenches AfD’s outsider appeal remains the open question haunting German politics.
