Thirty-five years after the fall of the Berlin Wall and German reunification, the five former East German states outside of Berlin are grappling with a demographic crisis that has reshaped communities, shifted political landscapes, and defied repeated policy interventions. For Jan-Niklas Hustedt, a 36-year-old “wendekind” – a child born in East Germany just weeks before the Wall collapsed – the transformation of his hometown Oschersleben, in the hardest-hit state of Saxony-Anhalt, is a deeply personal experience. He still recalls the spontaneous techno raves held in the abandoned canteen of a local pump factory, one of thousands of East German businesses that collapsed overnight when the inefficient, centrally planned GDR economy was suddenly thrust into the competitive global capitalist system.
In the three and a half decades since reunification, Germany as a whole has grown by 3.8 million people, a 5% increase fueled by immigration. But the former East German states have lost 16% of their population, with Saxony-Anhalt recording a catastrophic 26% drop, according to 2025 official statistics. Government demographic projections show that this decline is set to continue, with the steepest losses concentrated in rural eastern regions, where decades of post-reunification brain drain have combined with Germany’s persistent nationwide low birth rate to hollow out communities. Only Brandenburg, the state that surrounds Berlin and benefits from capital city spillover, has escaped this trend. Long-term forecasts from Germany’s federal statistics office project that all eastern states outside Berlin will see further population decline by 2070 across every modeled scenario.
This demographic collapse did not happen overnight. Two major waves of out-migration reshaped eastern Germany after 1990. The first began immediately after the Wall fell, as thousands of workers and young people moved west for better opportunities. A second, smaller but more impactful wave peaked in the early 2000s, and it disproportionately drew away the region’s most vital residents: young, highly educated people, and especially women. Dr. Katja Salomo, a Kassel University sociologist who grew up in rural East Germany, explains that during the reunification process, the existing East German female workforce was treated as an afterthought in privatization restructuring, pushing many to seek stable employment in West Germany. The loss of women of childbearing age sent fertility rates plummeting, creating a generational gap that persists today.
Today, the demographic shortage has spawned a new term unique to eastern Germany: “Kitasterben”, or “dying daycare”. During the GDR era, the region built an extensive network of universal childcare to support its full female workforce. Now, that system is collapsing for lack of children. Hustedt, who returned to Oschersleben after 13 years away to work as a corporate recruiter, says his daughter’s kindergarten now actively solicits new families to fill empty spots – a reversal that would have been unthinkable a generation ago. Walking through Oschersleben’s town center on a weekday, empty storefronts are easy to spot, and the population is overwhelmingly older. Including surrounding villages, the municipality now counts just 19,000 residents, down from more than 25,000 at reunification.
Hustedt is one of a growing number of local advocates working to reverse the outflow, drawn by a desire to protect the home they love. Even as he calls reunification an overall success story, he has made it his mission to attract young families and skilled workers back to the region. Another initiative, Heimvorteil Harz (Home Advantage Harz), run by Katy Löwe from the Saxony-Anhalt town of Halberstadt, is funded by local businesses desperate to fill vacancies and matches job seekers with open positions while promoting the region’s low cost of living, well-maintained infrastructure, and scenic rural landscapes. While living standards have improved dramatically since 1990, Löwe acknowledges that campaigns like hers can only do so much against a crisis of this scale. “The problem is too big,” she says, noting that regions across Germany are now competing for a shrinking pool of young workers. She points to a lasting collective trauma from reunification: many eastern Germans share a deep-seated fear of further loss that shapes both out-migration and voting patterns.
This demographic malaise has opened the door for a dramatic political shift. The far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD), classified as a right-wing extremist movement by German domestic intelligence in Saxony-Anhalt due to documented racist ideology that violates the country’s constitution, is currently polling above 40% ahead of September 2025 state elections, putting it on track to win an outright majority and form Germany’s first far-right state government since World War II. AfD leaders reject the extremist designation, framing themselves as a conservative libertarian movement and rejecting comparisons to Nazism.
Sociological research links the party’s surge directly to the region’s demographic decline. “Electoral support for far-right parties like the AfD tends to be higher in the regions most affected by population loss,” Salomo explains. While a direct causal link is hard to prove, communities facing stagnation and crumbling public services often feel that the established national political system has abandoned them. Paradoxically, these same regions are also the most skeptical of immigration, even though increased immigration would be the most direct short-term solution to stabilizing the population. The AfD’s Saxony-Anhalt manifesto rejects immigration as a solution to local population decline, instead proposing cash baby bonuses to incentivize larger families among existing residents. Critics warn that the party’s broader anti-immigration and mass deportation policies would cripple Germany’s already strained economy and violate constitutional law, but the party has now become the most popular nationally in opinion polling, with support heavily concentrated in the east.
While some argue that depopulation brings minor benefits – less traffic, more affordable housing, and a slightly reduced ecological footprint – population researchers warn that the overall impact is deeply damaging. Professor Martin Bujard of Germany’s Federal Institute for Population Research notes that low birth rates create an unsustainable imbalance between a shrinking working-age population and a growing cohort of retirees, while depopulation erodes social services and community cohesion. Bujard points out that Germany’s low birth rate is not unique: the United Nations has recorded an unprecedented global decline in fertility rates driven by housing costs, economic insecurity, and shifting social norms. The COVID-19 pandemic and the fallout from Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine have further pushed German birth rates down to their lowest level since 1946, with both native-born and immigrant women falling well below the 2.1 fertility rate needed to replace the existing population.
German reunification is widely celebrated as a historic moment of freedom that unified a divided people, but 35 years later, its demographic legacy remains deeply complicated. The old border is gone, but the demographic, economic, and political divides it created still cast a long shadow over eastern Germany, shaping the country’s future in ways few could have predicted in the euphoric days of 1989.
