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During the recent regional elections in Saxony-Anhalt, in eastern Germany, the Alternative for Germany (AfD) captured 43.8% of the vote, more than twice its 2016 score. In the wake of the vote, the explanations offered were the same as ever: discontent with immigration, anger at the federal government, and the East’s estrangement from the major parties. All of these grievances likely play a role. But these grievances are not confined to the eastern Länder; they cut across Germany as a whole and concentrate particularly in regions that are already losing industrial jobs or fear they might be next. What becomes of democratic life when citizens doubt the value of their work, the places where they live, and their place in the national economy, or when they feel that changes are decided without taking their concerns into account?
Ecological transition provides a striking example, for it has given rise to a new political cleavage in Germany that tracks along professional lines. In regions where a sizable share of the population works in polluting industries, the AfD has indeed made greater progress. The same phenomenon occurs at the individual level: workers engaged in so-called “brown” jobs are more inclined to support the AfD.
Delving deeper, it becomes evident that these workers do not necessarily worry more about the economy than others. Rather, they feel that their social status has declined. This has important consequences. In Germany as elsewhere, political discourse on climate and the environment is often framed in moral terms. Those who eat meat, drive internal-combustion cars, or perform polluting professions are frequently depicted as wreckers of the planet. That rhetoric can prompt some to change their consumption habits, but it can also strengthen the appeal of far-right narratives, especially when political leaders or activists challenge the value of jobs that are deeply tied to the identity of those who hold them. To succeed, energy-transition policies must therefore shield people from economic upheaval while also recognizing the contributions of workers and their regions.
A Planned Decline
Maintenance technicians, operators of metal-machining equipment, toolmakers, or chemical-plant technicians… These jobs are often labeled as “brown.” They are not, strictly speaking, the activities that emit the most greenhouse gases. Yet these roles are more common in sectors with high emissions. In 2013, roughly one out of ten employees held such a job in the average German district. While these jobs will probably not disappear overnight, many of them are tied to industries that climate policy seeks to reduce or transform. In Germany, they are as prevalent in the Western industrial areas as in the East.
Unlike other shocks often linked to political upheaval—such as Chinese competition or automation—the ecological transition is deliberate. In Germany, the end of coal is enshrined in law: coal-fired power plants must shut down by 2038 at the latest, and the country, the most industrialized in Europe, aims for climate neutrality by 2045. Energy-intensive industries, such as chemicals or steel, will therefore have to transform their production methods in depth. This ambition is also accompanied by a moral dimension. It is common to hear, at climate demonstrations or in the broader public debate, that certain forms of work belong to the past.
When Parties Take a Stand
The grievances that this discourse feeds now find political expressions. For a long time, no German party offered them a channel: all major parties backed the Energiewende, Germany’s shift toward renewable energy. That changed in 2016, when the AfD adopted a platform that rejected both climate science and climate policy, portraying the green transition as a threat to industry and unemployment. In Saxony-Anhalt, its economic-spokesperson stated: “This assault on industry is an assault on workers and on the Land’s prosperity.” He defended lignite mining against tighter European emission standards.
By measuring the share of “brown” jobs across the country’s regions and comparing electoral results before and after 2016 in areas with many of these jobs and those with few, striking results emerge. Before the AfD’s pivot, the two groups were similar: in 2013 the party received about 5% of the vote there. By 2021, its score had nearly doubled in districts with few brown jobs, to nearly 13%, while in districts with more brown jobs the rise was even more pronounced. Yet this cleavage is not unique to eastern Germany, a stronghold of the AfD; it is also visible in the West. Similar reactions of rejection are seen elsewhere, such as in the United States. In American coal- mining regions where Republicans campaigned against what they called the “war on coal,” researchers found that Republican voting advanced more in counties that lost mining jobs.
Beyond regional disparities, a long-running survey of German households, conducted annually, reveals a comparable shift at the individual level. Workers directly employed in brown jobs have drawn nearer to the AfD. Residents in these regions have also tended to move toward this party, to an extent that goes beyond what a simple shift among the workers themselves could explain. Here we see a sign that the transition is perceived as a threat to a place or to a community, not merely to individual employment. Again, the gap between workers and regions with varying exposure did not widen until the AfD took a stand against the green transition.
The recent developments in Saxony-Anhalt illustrate why this conflict is far from over. The Leuna chemical site, south of Halle, which employs about 10,000 people, embodies the two faces of the transition. A new biorefinery began production there last year. The oil refinery on the site has committed to buying green hydrogen starting in 2030. But in early October, Leuna Polyamid, a producer on the same site, began closing following insolvency proceedings; several hundred workers received layoff notices. Dow Chemical plans to close its nearby plants in Schkopau and Böhlen. “AfD is riding on people’s frustration,” Daniel Schulz told the weekly Der Freitag in January, who lives in Merseburg and works for a railway company serving the chemical plants of Schkopau. He himself rejects the party, but he understands its appeal: “It’s the only party that speaks to people’s uncertainty.”
The AfD’s platform for this year’s election proclaims the failure of the energy transition and calls for stopping the coal exit, abandoning the state’s hydrogen strategy, and scrapping carbon pricing. Many of these demands exceed the powers of a regional government, but the underlying message is clear: nothing needs to change. The party has made substantial gains in the region. In the Saalekreis district surrounding Leuna, AfD had around 4% in the 2013 federal elections; it captured nearly half the votes in this year’s regional elections. In the municipality of Leuna itself, it won the majority.
More Than a Money Issue
Economic anxiety offers an obvious explanation for this kind of political reaction in the face of a state-planned transformation. We have analyzed it, but found only scant evidence pointing in that direction. After the AfD’s turning point, brown-job workers and residents in districts with many such jobs did not exhibit higher anxiety about their jobs or personal finances. Official statistics point in the same direction: unemployment and household incomes did not evolve significantly in these districts, even if per-capita economic output declined somewhat. This suggests that the economic effects of the green transition may be smaller than anticipated—or have not yet materialized.
What we did find, however, is that workers and residents in these territories sit lower on the social ladder than other Germans—whether considering German society as a whole or their immediate surroundings. These results echo broader work. Political scientist Thomas Kurer’s research on Germany, Switzerland, and Great Britain shows that workers in declining trades turn to right-wing populism for fear of losing their status. In Kentucky’s coal basin, sociologist Arlie Hochschild observed the pride of work give way to shame. Economists have long established that losing a job costs much in well-being as it does in income. Work also provides recognition and a place in a community with a shared history. National policies aiming to erase industries tied to that history can lead workers to question not only whether they will continue to earn a living, but whether their work still inspires respect or contributes to society.
When sociologist Klaus Dörre and his colleagues interviewed coal miners in Lusatia, in eastern Germany, one miner told them: “In the time of the GDR, we were the heroes of the nation… And now, we are the fools or the criminals of the nation… And that hurts.” The AfD instrumentalizes this feeling, even if its own statements mostly focus on jobs and energy prices. “As long as energy remains artificially expensive and production is politically demonized,” warned the party’s economic spokesman in Saxony-Anhalt last December, any aid is merely a drop in the ocean.
These sentiments can have durable political consequences. In eastern Germany, forthcoming economic upheavals could rekindle memories of the years just after reunification. Economist Kim Leonie Kellermann shows that eastern Germans who lost their jobs during privatization or the closing of state-owned enterprises in the 1990s exhibited lower trust in others, less interest in politics, and looser ties to traditional parties even thirty years later.
A Mismatch
How have traditional parties sought to win over voters to the transition? Our analysis of their press releases shows that, unlike the AfD, they approach the green transition primarily through the lens of climate protection and the urgency to act. In Saxony-Anhalt, they also emphasize new industries such as hydrogen. In contrast, explicit recognition of existing work is rare, which results in a clear mismatch. Indeed, if residents in the affected regions cite the labor market, the economy, or the cost of living among their top concerns, many do not regard climate change as a pressing issue. In 2021, three out of four voters in Saxony-Anhalt believed there were problems that were far more important than climate change.
In this year’s election, nearly nine out of ten AfD supporters in Saxony-Anhalt feared price increases would prevent them from paying their bills; only about a third worried that climate change would destroy their means of subsistence— the smallest share among supporters of all parties. Among Greens supporters, the picture was the reverse: climate change came first, followed by material concerns.
Nationally, most Germans judge the energy transition to be costly and disconnected from ordinary people, and only about a third believe that the concerns of people like them are properly represented. In 2024, 69% of Germans said the country must change to protect the climate, but 73% believed the measures proposed mainly required people to give up something. Sociologists Steffen Mau, Thomas Lux, and Linus Westheuser note that three out of four Germans say they are very worried about climate change. But worrying about climate change does not mean deeming it the most urgent problem—especially when facing the future of one’s town or place of work.
Recall the 2018 yellow vests slogan: “End of the world, end of the month.” In the focus groups Mau and his colleagues conducted in Germany, workers said almost the same thing: the end of the month is closer than the end of the world. A few weeks after the first protests by the yellow vests, the French government scrapped the fuel-tax increase it had defended in the name of the climate.
Mau and his colleagues also show that conflict intensifies when people feel their way of life is being dictated, or when others are treated better than they are. Those with fewer resources more often report difficulties keeping up with social change—a form of fatigue with change. People who have little control over their working lives, Mau argues, resist being lectured about their private lives. That does not mean a rejection of all change. In the lignite basin of central Germany, including Leuna, a majority of residents believe the region needs a profound structural transformation; but that transformation concerns primarily their own concerns—employment. And in reality, a majority rejects phasing out coal before 2038. The green transition thus unites two things many in these regions dislike: being told how to change, and being asked to change for reasons that matter little to them.
The messages carried by traditional parties—such as the Greens or the Christian Democrats—are likely shaped by their own electoral base. Green voters, for instance, are not concentrated in industrial regions. The party has long recorded better results in districts with fewer brown jobs than in those with many. This leaves space for a political alternative that would adopt a more worker-friendly discourse—an approach to a transition that emphasizes social status and livelihoods of workers and regions concerned, rather than the future goals of green industries and the fight against climate change.
Traditional parties are not doomed to lose these voters: if the Greens, the Christian Democrats, and Die Linke declined, the Social Democrats (SPD) fared only slightly better in areas rich in brown jobs. This can be explained, in part, by their long-standing alliance with industrial workers. The SPD is perhaps best positioned to carry such a message: its communiqués more often mention employment and the recognition of work than those of other parties. The question remains whether it will go further.
A Better Offer
So what should be done if the transition remains the objective? Governments must simultaneously offer two things: credible protection and recognition of workers’ contributions. There are examples of transitions conducted with both material support and respect. When Germany decided in 2007 to stop subsidizing underground coal mining in the West, the federal government, the mining Länder, the mining company, and the miners’ union negotiated a fixed end date—2018. They also agreed on a socially acceptable exit, with older miners continuing to be paid until their retirement. When in 2018 the last mine closed in Bottrop in the West, a miner handed the final lump of coal to President Frank-Walter Steinmeier, who saluted the miners with the traditional greeting: “Glückauf und danke, Kumpel”—which can be rendered as “Good luck and thanks, mates from the mine.”
Spain proceeded similarly. Ahead of legislative elections, the government led by the Socialists negotiated with unions and coal companies an agreement involving early retirement, retraining, and funds for mining towns. Political scientists Diane Bolet, Fergus Green, and Mikel González-Eguino showed that the governing party gained about two points more in mining municipalities than in comparable municipalities. Among the reasons they identify is the support of the unions for the agreement. When Canada planned its phase-out of coal for electricity generation, a government working group made respect for workers and their communities its first principle. It recommended support measures that future governments would find hard to reverse.
The first condition is credible protection. As political scientists Alexander Gazmararian and Dustin Tingley argue, residents in fossil-fuel regions often doubt that governments will keep their promises throughout the entire transition—spanning several decades. Guarantees should therefore ideally take the form of rights codified in law—negotiated and administered with unions and disbursed according to a fixed timetable.
In 2012, François Hollande promised the steelworkers of Florange a law obliging companies to seek a buyer before closing a site. The blast furnaces had been halted the following year. It was only later that the law was adopted, and in a weakened form.
In the Appalachian coal basin, political scientist Gazmararian notes that roughly two-thirds of residents would back a climate policy if it were accompanied by worker-related assistance (pensions, health coverage, income support). Germany already provides transition allowances up to retirement for older coal workers who lose their jobs. But the green transition could affect a much larger share of workers.
Looking now at new jobs and investments, one observes that these help less than one might hope. Studying dozens of large investment projects announced in Saxony-Anhalt between 2021 and the most recent regional elections, we find that AfD’s share rose by around two points less in the towns that benefited from these projects. Investments did make a difference, but modest compared with the 23-point rise of AfD at the level of the Land.
The second condition is the recognition of workers’ contributions. Exiting an industry should not sound like a verdict on those who work there today. This implies, for example, renouncing the moralizing vocabulary of “dirty” jobs or “dinosaurs” among industries.
Recognition also means treating workers as stakeholders in what is to come. If the new jobs require skills close to those of the old ones, the new biorefineries or hydrogen plants could be operated by region residents who previously worked as operators or machinists in the old chemical plants.
Finally, recognition means giving workers a voice. As Daniel Schulz, the Merseburg railway worker, puts it: “The transformation must not be done against people; it must be done with them.” One could thus allow workers to decide how to use a portion of the public funds allocated to coal-transition regions, namely the transition funds.
The existing mechanisms offer some paths forward. Unions and works councils at chemical sites—the Betriebsräte, elected bodies representing employees within German companies—could participate in a commission tasked with deciding which projects in the affected regions would receive transition funds. A fixed share of the district funds could feed local funds whose projects were chosen by randomly selected residents, alongside municipal councils and works councils. The factories receiving transition funds could be required to commit to retraining workers and to job guarantees. Involving workers in these processes could also lead to a more equitable distribution of the transition’s burden.
Also, if citizens feel that those who decide on a necessary change also bear the cost, the cost becomes easier to accept. This is seen, for example, in France, through a study led by political scientist Théodore Tallent. It highlighted that the measure to reduce highway speed was more widely supported when people learned that ministers themselves would also curb their travel.
A Difficult Task
Recognition without guarantees risks coming off as hollow, or even as condescension. Conversely, guarantees without recognition risk leaving people feeling that they have been used. The governing parties must therefore convince workers that the transition protects them, both economically and in their social status. They must also convince them that it is being done with them, not against them. The task is all the more challenging as a party like the AfD simply promises that nothing needs to change. If traditional parties do not offer a credible alternative, the AfD will remain, in the words of Daniel Schulz, “the only party that speaks to people’s uncertainty.”