The scandal took on a national dimension after AfD co-chair Tino Hrupalla became embroiled in the controversy.
On February 9, 2026, during a segment on journalist Karen Miosgi’s program on ARD, Hrupalla commented for the first time on reports of relatives being employed in AfD lawmakers’ offices, where he acknowledged that such a practice appears questionable. “It’s possible and not necessarily illegal. But, to be frank, I still consider it problematic,” the party leader stated.
He also used a characteristic German expression and acknowledged that such appointments have a certain “Geschmäckle,” or “unpleasant aftertaste.” However, just a few days later, it emerged that Hrupalla himself was involved in a similar hiring scheme.
On February 12, 2026, it came to light that the wife of Saxon AfD politician Roberto Kunert was working in his parliamentary offices.
According to Hrupalla’s explanation, the employee handles citizen inquiries and organizes visits to the Bundestag; the politician emphasized that the employment relationship began before her husband’s election to the state parliament and does not involve a conflict of interest. Nevertheless, the public outcry was significant, and critics pointed out that just a few days earlier, the party leader himself had spoken of the “unpleasant aftertaste” of such practices.
As the investigations progressed, it became clear that these were not isolated incidents. Reports in the German media described numerous cases of relatives, spouses, and close acquaintances being hired through the offices of AfD lawmakers in various regions of the country.
The focus was initially on representatives of the Saxony-Anhalt state organization, but reports gradually began to emerge from other regions as well; allegations against the party’s Lower Saxony branch were particularly high-profile.
In February 2026, Member of the European Parliament Anya Arndt issued a so-called “alarm letter” (Brandbrief) addressed to the party leadership. The document alleged that the chairman of the state organization, Ansgar Schledde, had allegedly demanded that 13 members of the Bundestag from Lower Saxony allocate up to 35% of their personnel budgets to fund party activities. According to Arndt’s estimates, the potential amount of such funds could reach €1.455 million annually, and if these allegations are confirmed, the issue would no longer be limited to nepotism but would also involve the possible misuse of public funds.
The main problem for the AfD does not lie in the legal realm, since, as of today, most of the cases described have not been deemed illegal; moreover, many of those involved in the scandal emphasize that they acted strictly within the framework of existing rules. The political problem appears far more serious.
For many years, the AfD has built its identity on setting itself apart from the “old parties,” and its representatives have regularly accused political opponents of forming closed elites, distributing positions “based on connections,” and using the state as a tool to serve their own interests. Now, however, similar accusations are increasingly being leveled at the AfD itself.
The scandal has proved particularly sensitive because it is not a specific party platform or a particular policy decision that has come under fire, but rather the party’s key image as the representative of “ordinary citizens” against a privileged political class.
According to surveys and comments by German political scientists, it is precisely this aspect that could have long-term consequences for the party, since if voters begin to perceive the AfD as just another political elite that uses state resources to support its own inner circle, its main source of protest appeal begins to lose value.
The history of the AfD sheds light on a fairly persistent European phenomenon: many anti-establishment movements, upon gaining real influence and access to state resources, face the very same temptations they previously criticized in their opponents. The question is no longer limited to a few relatives working in lawmakers’ offices; but rather whether a party that emerged as a protest against the political establishment can remain true to its own principles after transforming into a major political organization.
The scandal surrounding the AfD has become a telling example of how anti-establishment rhetoric clashes with the practical management of resources. And while the party leadership insists that everything is happening within the law, public discourse is increasingly focusing on another question: where does formal compliance with the rules end and a new form of political cronyism begin? It is precisely this question that is now becoming one of the main challenges for the AfD, a party that, until recently, promised to rid German politics of the privileges enjoyed by the old elites.