Identity Politics and the Far-Right: The Strange Case of Alice Weidel

Image Courtesy: Sandro Halank via Wikimedia Commons

Alice Weidel appears to be the poster child for a globalised, socially liberal society; an economist who has worked across Asia, and now lives between Berlin and Switzerland with her partner, a Sri Lankan-born woman, and their two adopted children. Yet she is also the leader of the first far-right party to win a state election in Germany since the Nazis, one which staunchly opposes  immigration, political correctness, and gay marriage. Reconciling her personal and  political life is an exercise in mental gymnastics. 

The AfD (Alternative für Deutschland) reject gay marriage and wish to draw back transgender rights, yet Weidel is more than willing utilise her sexuality as proof of her party’s supposed tolerance. Not only that, but she also attempts to justify this glaring contradiction by claiming the biggest threat to the LGBT+ community is immigration and Islam, that her role in the party is ‘not despite her homosexuality but because of it’. This is a classic AfD tactic; using any opportunity whatsoever to vilify Muslims and refugees, even if it means siding with groups they have viciously attacked in the past. (For example, the AfD’s support of Israel despite an extensive history of antisemitism.)

Weidel joined the AfD in 2013 as she opposed bailouts during the eurozone crisis, and has continued to advocate for lower taxes and decreased government regulation of financial markets. It’s important to remember that despite her sexuality, she is white, German, and from a wealthy family (with historical involvement with the Nazi party), and stands to benefit from, or remain unaffected by, the vast majority of the damaging policies championed by the AfD. It seems as though Weidel’s fellow party members overlook her gender, and thereby her  same-sex partnership, instead treating her as one of the straight men she surrounds herself with (at least in the public eye; there’s no way of knowing how they regard her private life behind closed doors). 

Though far-right politics are male-dominated, Weidel’s gender is perhaps the least confusing part. Female politicians are generally more accepted as conservative leaders than liberal ones; not because the right is less misogynistic by any means, but because female leaders serve as a political tool, offering a palatable, ‘progressive’ face to regressive movements. Giorgia Meloni, the first female Prime Minister of Italy, and Marine le Pen, the former president of France’s far-right National Rally are both prime examples of this, both embodying a ‘feminine’ appearance with that of a perceived ‘masculine’ leadership style. Weidel differs slightly here; she makes no effort to dress as a traditional, conservative woman, bar the Margaret Thatcher-esque pearl necklace she is rarely seen without.

It would also be far more shocking for an openly gay man to head a party like the AfD than a gay woman. Associations with masculinity are far more helpful than the reverse. Gay men have suffered far harsher legal consequences than lesbians throughout history, and this is also true within the far-right. Even Aleksandr Lukashenko, the authoritarian leader of Belarus, said ‘I can forgive lesbians, but not gay men’.

This discrimination against queer people has led to a naive assumption in the West that homosexuality aligns neatly with progressive social views. Weidel serves as a reminder that being part of a minority group by no means guarantees ‘superior’ morals, or even empathy for other oppressed groups. In fact, the first known gay politician in history was Ernst Röhm, a close friend of Hitler who served as chief of the SA from 1931-1934.

Sexuality aside, Weidel’s background differs in almost every respect to the stereotypical AfD voter – she is highly educated, well-travelled, and, perhaps most importantly, from the former West. Yet, as the leader of the AfD, she attempts to reach those who feel their concerns, particularly those regarding immigration, have been ignored by the German political establishment, be it Scholz’s Ampel-coalition, or Angela Merkel’s CDU.

This is nothing new; almost every populist leader tries to promote the narrative that they are a man (or woman) of the people. Donald Trump bases much of his image on being anti-elite, a strategy which has won over huge swathes of Middle Americans who feel disillusioned by coastal candidates far-removed from the issues they face. (To have convinced voters that Trump – a New York City-born, Ivy League-educated billionaire – is more in touch with the problems of the average American than any other politician, is perhaps the greatest PR scam of the 21st century.)

Almost every aspect of Weidel’s identity has a precedent in far-right politics, but this doesn’t make her decision to lead the AfD any less puzzling. Whilst her politics seem to coalesce at the intersection of selfishness and self-hatred, this appears to be of little concern to her or her party, who are entering Germany’s February federal elections at second place in the polls. The AfD’s core agenda of xenophobia remains the same regardless of their current mouthpiece, and, regardless of the outcome of February’s election, in choosing such an unorthodox candidate for Chancellor, they have achieved a mainstream success that will permanently alter Germany’s political landscape.