It is hard to imagine the Merz government allowing the Leipzig drone-bomb incident to escalate further and German–Russian relations to slide into direct confrontation.
Just over a month ago, German police discovered a drone allegedly carrying explosives at Leipzig Airport. Berlin promptly accused Russia of involvement and announced diplomatic sanctions, including the closure of a Russian consulate general. Moscow retaliated. How did the incident escalate, what deeper forces lie behind it, and where are bilateral relations heading?
The Leipzig Drone-Bomb Incident
On 4 August, an exceptionally rare and serious bombing incident occurred at Leipzig Airport in eastern Germany. At 7:20 p.m., an explosion was heard in woodland between its two runways; surveillance cameras recorded a drone flying overhead and crashing. At 11:42 p.m., a bus driver found the drone on the ground and pinned it down with his foot. Its explosive device fell several metres away. An expanded police search uncovered a second drone and suspected wreckage of another within several kilometres.
Leipzig Airport is also an important hub for the Bundeswehr and NATO. Significantly, large Ukrainian Antonov transport aircraft carrying military supplies were parked near where the first explosive-laden drone was found. Ukraine transports ammunition through the airport, along with armoured personnel carriers and helicopters with their rotor blades folded.
German military and security authorities were therefore alarmed: was this a paramilitary operation against Ukraine, or against German and NATO assistance to Kyiv? Forensic specialists analysed DNA traces. German media reported that investigators had identified at least two suspects, one believed to have links to Russian intelligence and an earlier act of sabotage.
Chancellor Friedrich Merz reportedly received investigation briefings several times daily while on holiday. The federal government eventually concluded that Russia was responsible.
On 1 September, Germany’s foreign and interior ministers announced sanctions: closing Russia’s consulate general in Bonn and the Russian House in Berlin, requiring diplomats to leave within a specified period, and tightening scrutiny of Russian arrivals and foreign-flagged “shadow fleet” vessels. On 6 September, Merz publicly blamed Russia for the first time, describing the attribution as “clear, indisputable and legally sound”. Russia denied the allegations and announced countermeasures, including closing Germany’s consulate general in St Petersburg and the Goethe-Institut.
The Historical Dimension of Germany’s Russia Policy
The incident marks another deterioration in bilateral relations since the major escalation of the Russia–Ukraine conflict in 2022. Germany regards Russia’s “special military operation” as both a violation of international law and a threat to German security. As Interior Minister Alexander Dobrindt put it: “Although we are not at war, we are targeted by hybrid warfare every day.”
Russia, conversely, considers Germany effectively a participant in the conflict. Germany’s assistance to Ukraine, second only to that of the United States, totalled €47.2 billion by 28 February 2026. It had also received 1.35 million Ukrainian refugees by 30 June 2026. Together with statements by successive German governments since the escalation, these figures demonstrate Germany’s steadfast support for Ukraine.
Yet many German and international observers also describe this situation as “the failure of Germany’s longstanding Russia policy”. They place the deterioration in a longer historical perspective, drawing on past experience to assess the relationship’s future.
Current events should not obscure that history. Having unleashed the Second World War and inflicted immense human suffering, Germany pursued reconciliation with Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union through Chancellor Willy Brandt’s “New Ostpolitik” during his tenure from 1969 to 1974. Its guiding principle was “change through rapprochement”. German reunification in 1990 would also have been impossible without the Soviet leadership’s consent.
Historically rooted feelings of guilt and gratitude thus remain central to Germany’s relations with the Soviet Union and Russia. They distinguish German attitudes from those of other Western and European countries, particularly in Eastern Europe.
Among Germany’s political parties, the Social Democratic Party (SPD) inherited Brandt’s tradition and consistently supported dialogue with Russia before the conflict escalated. Former chancellor Gerhard Schröder developed a personal friendship with Vladimir Putin and subsequently made several personal attempts to facilitate communication.
Russia, too, historically attached considerable importance to Germany as a major continental power. After the Cold War, Moscow briefly saw Germany as an emerging “superpower”, consistent with Russia’s own aspirations at the time to join the Western camp. A high point came on 25 September 2001, when Putin addressed the Bundestag in German. His statement that “oceans lie between Russia and America; between Russia and Germany lies a great history” drew enthusiastic applause.
Ukraine nevertheless became a catalyst for change. Crimea’s incorporation into Russia in 2014 marked a turning point: Germany considered Russia’s unilateral alteration of national borders a violation of international law. Yet Chancellor Angela Merkel had opposed the US proposal to bring Georgia and Ukraine into NATO at the alliance’s April 2008 summit.
Economic relations once exemplified “change through rapprochement”. In 2013, before Crimea’s incorporation into Russia, Germany accounted for nearly one-third of EU exports to Russia, far ahead of Italy and France. Germany was Russia’s second-largest trading partner.
Before the conflict escalated, Germany depended heavily on Russian energy. The most prominent example was the Nord Stream 2 gas pipeline, whose construction Germany and Russia began during the Schröder era. Running directly between the two countries beneath the Baltic Sea, it bypassed Ukraine and other Eastern European states, provoking strong opposition from Eastern Europe, the United States and other EU members.
Germany also played a central mediating role over Ukraine. As its economy and society developed after the Second World War, Germany fashioned a national self-image centred on resolving international disputes through dialogue and upholding international order. Its contribution to the Iranian nuclear negotiations was a particular source of pride: it had played an important role despite being neither a permanent UN Security Council member nor a nuclear-armed state.
From 2013, when the Ukrainian government’s refusal to sign an association agreement with the EU triggered political crisis and domestic unrest, Germany pursued mediation between the government and opposition and between Russia and Ukraine. Even as tensions intensified in early 2022, Chancellor Olaf Scholz visited Kyiv and Moscow that February, urging a return to political settlement.
The subsequent escalation signalled the failure both of three successive German governments’ diplomatic efforts over eastern Ukraine since 2014 and of “change through rapprochement”.
The Dilemmas of Germany’s Russia Policy
Germany’s response to the escalation could be described as “impulsive”. Scholz immediately introduced the rhetoric of a Zeitenwende, or “turning point”, emphasising geopolitics in foreign and economic policy, sharply increasing security and defence spending, and pursuing a new Military Service Act.
Yet this forceful rhetoric lacked a crucial element: how did Germany envisage resolving the conflict, and what role would it play? Scholz’s declaration that “Russia must not win, and Ukraine must not lose”, and Merz’s assertion that “we are neither at war nor any longer at peace”, expose the absence of clear objectives in Germany’s Russia policy. That absence reflects contemporary Germany’s lack of strategic culture and thinking.
As the Trump administration revives great-power geopolitical competition, Germany risks becoming an awkward bystander to direct US–Russian deals.
Its hesitation over supplying Ukraine with weapons, particularly heavy offensive systems such as tanks and cruise missiles, illustrates the problem. Germany devised an unusually complex “circular exchange”: it would provide German tanks to Eastern European countries possessing Soviet-made tanks, which would then send those tanks to Ukraine. Berlin argued that Ukrainian troops knew Soviet equipment better and that the arrangement avoided direct German deliveries of heavy weapons. This equivocation drew widespread ridicule.
After forming his government in May 2025, Merz devoted much of his attention to securing a favourable external environment. German media even dubbed him the “foreign-policy chancellor”. The label acknowledged his diplomatic achievements but also implied neglect of domestic affairs, whose evolution has itself complicated Russia policy.
The state election in Saxony-Anhalt on 6 September caused a nationwide “political earthquake” because of the Alternative for Germany’s (AfD) sweeping victory. Its 43.8% share was almost twice its 23.0% at the previous election. The Christian Democratic Union (CDU), which had governed the state continuously since 2002 and is chaired by Merz, won only 17.2%, losing 20.1 percentage points and more than half its support in five years. Merz had pledged on taking office to halve the AfD’s support. The SPD, Greens, Left Party and Sahra Wagenknecht Alliance (BSW) also entered the legislature with 9.3%, 8.9%, 7.3% and 5.3%, respectively.
The result typifies contemporary German politics: deadlock, with an effective majority government or a workable minority administration almost impossible to form.
The AfD, as the largest party, theoretically has the initiative in forming a government. But constitutional protection authorities have classified it as “right-wing extremist”. Its xenophobia, racism and nationalism are incompatible with Germany’s post-war democratic consensus. Mainstream parties maintain a “firewall”, refusing cooperation to prevent institutional erosion. The AfD consequently struggles to find either coalition partners or parties willing to sustain an AfD minority government from outside.
The only viable option at present is a coalition between the BSW and AfD, or BSW support for an AfD minority administration. The BSW, generally placed on the far left, might support the extreme-right AfD because their positions on Russia converge. Both reject the federal government’s policy, advocating dialogue with Moscow, an end to military aid for Ukraine and renewed access to Russian energy.
Consider the implications of an AfD-led state government: an extreme-right force challenging Germany’s political consensus, breaching the democratic “firewall” and decisively defeating a federal governing party in a state election. It would also openly dissent over Russia, which the federal government regards as its greatest security threat. What pressure would this place on Merz’s government?
The Saxony-Anhalt election has therefore created a dual crisis for Merz’s party and the federal government. It is primarily a domestic political problem, but disagreement over Russia carries potential foreign-policy consequences. The interaction makes the predicament more difficult to manage.
Against this background, it is hard to imagine the Merz government allowing the Leipzig drone-bomb incident to escalate further and German–Russian relations to slide into direct confrontation.
Hu Chunchun, Executive Director of the Institute for European Studies and Associate Professor, Shanghai International Studies University
September 15, 2026, Source: Shangguan News
Translated by Hong Bisui
