It’s hard to overstate the shock felt by democratic, liberal Germany as it witnessed the racist rioting in Chemnitz at the end of August. The country has been caught off guard entirely. Our sense of civility is now threatened by hatred and contempt.

In recent years we’d already encountered street violence involving militant rightwing extremists. They had their sympathisers – but very few in mainstream German society. Yet in Chemnitz ordinary locals sided openly with the perpetrators of racist aggression. This marked a shift. Political vitriol was pouring on to the streets, accompanied by physical assaults.

In the heart of Saxony, something that had been smouldering suddenly erupted in flames.

In the Saxon city, something that had been smouldering suddenly erupted in flames

Germany’s far-right Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) party has done little to distance itself from these events. It excuses and trivialises extremism on the right while exaggerating it on the left, seizing on criminal offences committed by migrants to confirm xenophobic prejudice.

What a difference a year makes. I remember how, on the day of the September 2017 general election, Berlin held its annual marathon: 43,000 people from 137 countries gathered to run through the capital, cheered on by huge crowds. The finish line was right next to the Reichstag building, seat of the federal parliament. Above athletes resting on the grass the German flag flew high, having been raised there in 1990 to celebrate the country’s reunification. Everything was carefree and cheerful – until the election results came out. The AfD had not only overcome the 5% hurdle to enter the Bundestag; it had secured 12.6% of the vote, having campaigned on migration and border security.

Angela Merkel is a diligent, competent and incorruptible politician, but it had been clear she wouldn’t do well at the ballot box that day – regardless of how much prosperity, jobs and social benefits her 12 years in office had brought to many people. The Social Democrats, traditionally the natural alternative to the Christian Democrats, could no longer perform that role: for years they’d failed to appeal even to their own base.

It took months for a government to be formed. That unfamiliar situation created uncertainty, something Germans dislike, and the word crisis became commonplace.The AfD paraded its self-confidence. As a “grand coalition” took shape, the AfD emerged as the largest and most vociferous opposition in parliament. It focused on one topic: refugees. It didn’t seem to matter that numbers had fallen, that asylum seekers had long since been properly registered and that some had been expelled, or that migrants no longer received social benefits that weren’t also available to Germans. Also ignored was the low level of unemployment, a falling crime rate and the fact an overwhelming majority of immigrants and refugees live peacefully in Germany.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Sculptures erected by artist Rainer Opolka depicting wolves making a Nazi salute in Chemnitz on 13 September after the recent far-right demonstrations. Photograph: Jan Woitas/AFP/Getty

In the new political moment, Germany’s east-west divide was once again exposed. While the AfD has supporters in the west, there are significantly more in the east. According to polls, it is the second strongest political force there, boasting well over 20% support. There have been many attempts to explain this, for instance with reference to the still hugely unequal distribution of wealth almost 30 years after the Berlin Wall came down. Some in the east appreciate post-1990 freedoms, but many suffer from the loss of a sense of Heimat (homeland).

Hardly any foreigners live in Germany’s eastern part, but that hasn’t stopped nationalism taking root, nor the scaremongering about “alienation”. The notion of a “Christian west” is constantly conjured up – even though by the time the wall fell, people in the east had undergone 40 years of anti-church politics. During the Peaceful Revolution of 1989, a small group of dissidents initiated the demonstrations that declared: “We are the people!” The very same slogan is being abused today. Self-described “concerned citizens” exercise their right to freedom of expression by taking to the streets to protest against pluralism and diversity, hoping to create the impression that they’re the majority. The formation of the anti-racist #wirsindmehr (we are more) countermovement was long overdue.

By contrast, in the western part of the country AfD supporters don’t generally lead a precarious existence. They’re often relatively well-off, mostly men, and they no longer understand the world. They are averse to a chancellor who is still alien to them after all these years (Merkel grew up in the east). They like to buy electronics from Asia, to be cared for by nurses from Poland and to buy fresh tomatoes all year round, but don’t want to think much about exploitation in other parts of the world. They’re proud that their children work in England and their grandchildren study in Japan. And they are politically educated.

In 1945, after the second world war, the western allies ordered a rigorous democratic education. Nobody could escape it. Holocaust denial became a punishable offence. Not all western Germans have renounced antisemitism, but in the old federal republic it was against the law to openly adhere to Nazi ideology. We were more relaxed in our dealings with the German Democratic Republic dictatorship. It’s true that Soviet bloc socialism was not national socialism, but it is alarming that there continue to be public debates about whether the word Unrechtsstaat (illegitimate state) can be ascribed to the German Democratic Republic.

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Today a silent, liberal-democratic majority of Germans don’t really know how to react to those who are eaten up by fear, hatred or contempt. But there are enlightened centrists who also make mistakes – such as those who, out of exaggerated political correctness, are busy rewriting children’s books like Pippi Longstocking, a task which should not be a priority.

Surveys show Germans enjoy a high level of satisfaction in their personal life. Yet the mood in the country is gloomy. It’s as if we’ve ignored the fact that for 70 years we’ve benefited from arguably the best constitution in the world. We live in peace, yet we’re turning against one another.

Perhaps we’ll look back at this current phase as a difficult stretch in our collective political marathon. We need perseverance as well as the means to fight exhaustion and hysteria. Just like those athletes on the day of the 2017 election, we’ll need resilience to reach the finish line. In politics that can only come through the determination of avowed democrats, education and confidence-building. That would be the ultimate proof Germany has learned from its history.

• Jacqueline Boysen is a German journalist and historian