Inside Germany’s Repatriation Offensive

From Willkommenskultur to a Hard Reset on Asylum

Ten years after Germany opened its doors to an unprecedented number of refugees, the politics, language and mechanics of migration policy in Europe’s largest economy have entered a distinctly new phase. The ethos once captured by the term “Willkommenskultur”—a post-war tradition of welcoming those in need—has given way to a starkly different watchword: “Rückführungsoffensive”, or repatriation offensive. It is a term that does not hide its intent. Where Angela Merkel’s administration staked its reputation on compassion and integration, the current government led by Chancellor Friedrich Merz is seeking to dramatically increase the number of asylum seekers returning to their countries of origin—voluntarily where possible, forcibly where not.

This pivot is not merely rhetorical. It encompasses a structured set of incentives backed by expanded enforcement powers and legal reforms designed to expedite removals and deter prolonged appeals. It also reopens some of the most difficult questions that have dogged European migration policy for a decade: what constitutes a “safe” country for return, how to balance humanitarian obligations with public concern about integration and social cohesion, and where party politics ends and responsible governance begins.

A Political Project With an Administrative Backbone

When Angela Merkel decided in 2015 to allow over a million refugees into Germany, most fleeing war and state collapse in Syria, Afghanistan and elsewhere, she became the emblem of a humanitarian stance that reshaped Europe’s response to forced displacement. The policy’s legacy is complex. It transformed Germany’s demography and labour market, accelerated debates around citizenship, identity and belonging, and helped to fuel the rise of new political forces on the right. A decade on, the political centre has moved, the mood has cooled, and migration once again tops public concerns.

Chancellor Merz has framed the present moment bluntly: Germany, he says, has been “overwhelmed” by the continuing pressures of irregular migration and the demands of supporting large refugee populations. His government’s response is a multi-pronged strategy aimed at returning, over time, up to one million people whose protection status is deemed no longer necessary or whose asylum claims have failed. The priority targets are clear from the numbers. Around 700,000 Syrians and 400,000 Afghans are currently living in Germany under refugee status or subsidiary protection. The new approach blends financial sweeteners for voluntary departure with tougher measures for those who refuse to leave or who have committed serious crimes.

The policy’s architecture reflects the political composition behind it: a centrist coalition built around Merz’s Christian Democratic Union (CDU) alongside the centre-left Social Democrats (SPD). The CDU wing emphasises enforcement, deterrence and a reassertion of state capacity. The SPD has traditionally stressed procedural fairness and integration, and parts of the party remain uneasy with the tone and the reach of the proposed changes. This tension is visible not only in parliamentary debates but in the statements of senior ministers abroad.

The Offer: Cash, Tickets and Return Support

At the heart of the voluntary pillar is an enhanced government-run returns programme. The offer is straightforward on paper. Those willing to leave Germany and resettle in their country of origin—or in a third country that will accept them—can receive a lump-sum payment designed to cover resettlement costs, as well as a free plane ticket and reimbursement for medically necessary expenses incurred within the first three months back home.

The sums are calibrated to influence hard decisions. Eligible individuals can receive up to €1,000, with a family cap of €4,000. In addition, the scheme provides general travel money—€200 per adult and €100 per child under 18. These figures surpass the UK’s voluntary returns policy both in structure and generosity; the British scheme offers a single payment of up to £3,000, typically via a controlled card usable only in the recipient’s country of return. Berlin’s package is more comprehensive by design. It bundles immediate financial relief with practical help and a narrow window of health-related support in recognition of the vulnerabilities returnees may face upon arrival.

Demand signals are mixed. The returns programme’s website has carried warnings of high application volumes and extended waiting times. Yet figures reported in German media suggest that, to date, only a very small fraction of eligible Syrians have opted in—2,869 by one tally, roughly 0.4 per cent of Syrians with protection status in Germany. This dissonance points to a core difficulty: money and logistics can help, but they cannot substitute for a sense of security, dignity and opportunity in the places people are being asked to re-enter. Many Syrians, even those who have not pursued German citizenship, remain deeply sceptical about conditions under the current regime. For Afghans, the calculus is arguably starker still.

The Stick: Detention, Legal Tightening and Deportation

If the carrot fails, the policy shifts to coercion. The government’s enforcement track comprises several elements. First, it proposes to expand the capacity of migrant detention centres, including constructing new facilities in six of Germany’s 16 states where none currently exist. This expansion is intended to address a recurring bottleneck: individuals slated for removal often cannot be detained prior to deportation, which increases the risk of absconding, complicates scheduling of flights and can allow deportations to be frustrated by last-minute legal challenges.

Second, the coalition agreement sketches legal reforms that would ease the path to removal for those whose claims have been rejected. One controversial provision would allow “permanent detention” for asylum seekers convicted of serious crimes, effectively presenting a binary: accept deportation or face the prospect of indefinite incarceration. Another strand aims to streamline appeals by limiting access to state-funded legal support in certain end-stage cases. Proponents argue this will curtail the tactical use of serial filings to delay deportation. Critics see it as an erosion of due process and a dangerous precedent for administrative expediency trumping individual rights.

These measures come alongside more targeted initiatives. For Afghanistan, where the Taliban’s return to power has complicated every aspect of engagement, Berlin has reportedly pursued arrangements to permit regular deportation flights of criminal offenders back to Kabul. Any such programme would demand careful coordination and is likely to draw intense scrutiny from international bodies and rights organisations. The government’s own communications acknowledge the complexity, but the political imperative to act—signalling to the electorate that the state is in control—remains strong.

A Contested Definition of “Safe Return”

Perhaps the most contentious element of the repatriation offensive is the assertion that Syria is now safe for returns. Chancellor Merz has stated plainly that the Syrian civil war is over and that, as a consequence, there is “absolutely no reason” for Syrians to claim asylum in Germany. On that basis, he has urged Syrian refugees who have not naturalised as German citizens to prepare to go back, noting that those who refuse could face deportation.

This stance is not universally shared within the government. Foreign Minister Johann Wadephul, during a visit to a heavily bombed suburb of Damascus, publicly countered the narrative of normalisation. “Here, hardly anyone can live a truly dignified life,” he said, making clear his unease with pressuring Syrians to return. His comments underline a broader debate: while the front lines have largely fallen silent, the infrastructure of repression remains in place, and independent reporting continues to surface credible allegations of arbitrary detention, forced conscription, property confiscation and surveillance. Returnees may be particularly vulnerable to suspicion and abuse.

For Afghans the risk profile is even more widely acknowledged. Human rights groups such as Pro Asyl have warned that enforced returns to Taliban-controlled Afghanistan could expose individuals to persecution, torture or worse, depending on their ethnic background, prior employment, political associations or perceived Western ties. Against this backdrop, reports that Berlin has offered cash incentives of up to €6,500 to Afghan individuals still stranded in Pakistan—who had originally been accepted onto Germany’s refugee admission scheme but were blocked when the programme was frozen—have been greeted with alarm by campaigners. The payment is framed as support for those abandoning their asylum bid, but the moral tension is palpable: is it facilitation of agency, or a financial nudge towards significant personal risk?

The Numbers, the Optics and the Limits of Incentives

The efficacy of repatriation policies often hinges on the interplay of three factors: the objective conditions in the countries of return, the subjective decisions of individuals and families who must weigh multiple risks, and the domestic political theatre in which these policies are announced and judged. Germany’s scheme illustrates the fraught balance.

On paper, the voluntary package is comparatively generous, especially when measured against other European offers. It signals a desire to encourage departures without the heavy hand of enforcement. Yet take-up has been low among Syrians with protection status. There are several reasons. First, the fear of state retribution, conscription or discrimination in Syria is not erased by the cessation of large-scale hostilities. Second, the social and economic collapse of many communities means return often equates to starting from less than zero—without housing, employment networks or even clear title to property. Third, the act of return can be irreversible in practice: if conditions worsen, coming back to Germany is not a legal option. A one-off payment cannot offset these structural barriers.

For Afghans in Pakistan facing a cash-for-withdrawal offer, the calculus may differ but is no less complex. Some may have family ties and cultural familiarity that lessen the risks; others may face acute danger due to past affiliations or demographic profiles. The optics are delicate. Critics see a wealthy state monetising the hardship of people caught mid-journey by a political decision to freeze admissions. Supporters argue it is a pragmatic way to help individuals make a choice in a constrained environment. Both arguments can be true at once. What remains unresolved is whether such measures will meaningfully reduce pressure on Germany’s asylum system or merely shift vulnerability elsewhere.

Legal Reform as Policy Accelerator

Much of the coalition’s plan centres on the courts. Over the past decade, legal challenges have become a routine part of asylum and return procedures across Europe. This is by design: the right to seek protection and to challenge a rejection is embedded in international and European law. However, governments contend that the process has become too slow, too susceptible to tactical delay and too inconsistent across jurisdictions.

The proposed tightening—limiting publicly-funded legal support at certain stages for those already rejected, expanding pre-deportation detention and clarifying grounds for removal of those with criminal convictions—seeks to accelerate outcomes. Speed, however, is not the only metric. The fairness and accuracy of decisions, the availability of competent representation, and the transparency of criteria for “serious crimes” that trigger harsher measures are equally important. A regime that resolves cases quickly but risks wrongful deportations to harm may achieve short-term political gains at long-term moral and legal cost.

The idea of “permanent detention” sits at the particularly sharp end of this debate. Framed as a tool to protect the public and uphold court decisions when deportation is otherwise frustrated, it inevitably raises proportionality concerns. Indefinite deprivation of liberty for those who cannot be removed—whether due to conditions in the destination country, lack of travel documents, or non-cooperation by consular authorities—would test Germany’s constitutional safeguards and European human rights norms. Any such policy would likely face legal challenge up to the highest courts.

Coalition Friction and the Spectre of the AfD

No migration policy exists in a political vacuum. The repatriation offensive is unfolding against a backdrop of fraught coalition dynamics and the steady ascent of the Alternative for Germany (AfD), an anti-migrant, far-right party that has capitalised on public frustration. The CDU, vying to assert control over the agenda, has little appetite to cede ground on law-and-order themes. The SPD, while sensitive to voter concerns, remains internally divided over how far to bend towards deterrence without compromising core social democratic principles.

Recent weeks have highlighted these tensions. Beyond the immediate disagreements over the safety of Syria, the coalition has wrestled with other contentious initiatives, such as a CDU-backed proposal to reintroduce conscription via a lottery. That policy has largely been shelved amid SPD opposition, but the episode underscores the limits of the government’s internal consensus. Migration amplifies these strains because it sits at the intersection of values, identity and state authority. Each discordant public statement—from a minister on the ground in Damascus to a chancellor behind a Berlin podium—becomes fodder for political rivals and a source of confusion for affected communities.

The charge that Chancellor Merz is using refugees as a political football to outflank the AfD is not new. Critics point to the timing and tone of announcements; supporters counter that democratic governments must respond to changing realities and public mandates. Both assessments, again, can contain truths. Yet the danger is that short-term positioning hardens into policy without the careful calibration that the complexity of migration demands.

Human Consequences Behind Policy Headlines

It is easy for the debate to become abstract, reduced to numbers and slogans. But the human consequences are both immediate and long-lasting. For a Syrian family weighing the offer of €4,000 to return, the calculation stretches far beyond the sum on the table. It encompasses questions of safety at checkpoints, the risk to male relatives of conscription or detention, the availability of schooling for children, the fate of homes left behind, and the reality of rebuilding in scarred neighbourhoods where services barely function. For an Afghan man stranded in Pakistan, the choice to accept €6,500 to abandon a resettlement path might mean returning to a province now under the control of those he once fled.

The promise of covering medical expenses for three months is a humane touch, but it sits atop difficult realities. Health care systems in both Syria and Afghanistan have been decimated. Accommodation, employment and documentation challenges may take far longer than three months to navigate. The psychological toll—of displacement, return, uncertainty—rarely features in policy papers but shapes outcomes profoundly. Those who feel cornered by a lack of options are unlikely to become success stories of voluntary return.

For communities in Germany, the picture is equally mixed. Many refugees have integrated into workplaces, schools and neighbourhoods. Employers in sectors facing labour shortages—care work, logistics, construction—have come to rely on staff with refugee backgrounds. Children who arrived young now speak German as their dominant language. Deportation in such contexts is not just a legal act; it is a social rupture. Conversely, there are genuine concerns about the small subset of individuals who commit serious crimes, about the burden on municipal services, and about maintaining public consent for any asylum system. A sustainable policy must address both sides honestly.

Europe’s Broader Migration Orchestra

Germany’s shift cannot be separated from the European context. Across the EU, governments have tightened asylum procedures, struck deals with third countries to manage flows, and experimented with incentives for return. The new EU Pact on Migration and Asylum seeks to harmonise aspects of processing and solidarity while reinforcing external borders. Yet return remains the Achilles heel. Many origin countries are reluctant to readmit nationals, particularly if they fear a public backlash or lack capacity to reintegrate returnees. Documentation can be contested or difficult to obtain. Chartering deportation flights is costly and logistically complex. Legal challenges can delay removals for months or years.

Germany’s size and economic weight mean its policies ripple beyond its borders. More generous voluntary return packages can set a benchmark, but may also create perverse incentives if poorly designed. Tougher detention and deportation measures can encourage other states to follow suit, shifting the EU’s centre of gravity further towards enforcement. The question is whether such moves produce durable change or whether they simply reconfigure the pressure points in an ever-adapting system. Migration routes shift, smugglers pivot, and people in danger seek new paths. Without meaningful improvement in the conditions that drive flight—conflict, repression, economic collapse—the demand for protection will persist.

Communication, Clarity and Credibility

One of the policy’s immediate challenges is communication. Mixed messages from senior officials about the safety of Syria and the feasibility of Afghan returns erode confidence. For refugees and their advocates, clarity matters: who is at risk of removal, on what timeline, and with what safeguards? For the broader public, coherence is a proxy for competence. Announcing an ambitious repatriation offensive without aligning the diplomatic, legal and operational pieces invites accusations of posturing.

Credibility also hinges on the state’s capacity to follow through. Building detention centres is a multi-year endeavour; legal reforms can be slowed by litigation; bilateral readmission agreements require painstaking negotiation. If a high-profile policy produces modest results, the gap between promise and performance can further fuel disillusionment—ironically strengthening the very political forces the policy sought to blunt.

Transparency around metrics would help. Publishing regular, disaggregated figures on voluntary returns, forced removals, appeals outcomes, and reintegration support uptake would allow a more grounded debate. So would independent monitoring of return conditions and post-return outcomes, ideally by organisations with access on the ground. If the government’s claim is that Syria is safe for return, empirical evidence should be central to the case, and it should be updated as conditions evolve.

Ethics at the Edges: Voluntariness and Coercion

Voluntary return sits on a spectrum. Truly voluntary departure—where individuals decide freely to go home—is relatively rare in protracted displacement situations. More often, choices are shaped by constraints: stalled asylum claims, lack of work permits, family pressure, the stresses of limbo. Add financial incentives and the line between informed consent and coerced choice can blur. The more force applied—through detention, threat of indefinite incarceration, or the removal of legal supports—the further one travels from voluntariness.

Germany’s challenge is to design a framework that withstands ethical scrutiny as well as legal review. That implies robust counselling for those considering return, clear information about risks, and post-return support that extends beyond three months for those who need it. It also implies a willingness to slow or halt returns if conditions deteriorate or if credible evidence of harm to returnees accumulates. Such commitments would not satisfy all critics, but they would reflect a state confident enough to balance control with care.

The Merkel Legacy and the Merz Moment

The contrast between eras is stark. Angela Merkel’s approach made Germany a beacon for many and a lightning rod for others. It was underpinned by a moral conviction that rich democracies have obligations to people fleeing terror and collapse. It also rested on a belief that German society could absorb and benefit from new arrivals. The current government, while not repudiating asylum itself, is recalibrating around limits—of capacity, of public consent, and of Germany’s role in Europe. Where Merkel became the face of welcome, Merz has positioned himself as the custodian of order.

It would be naïve to suggest that one approach is simply compassionate and the other cold. Policy-making in this domain is a sequence of imperfect choices in a world that offers few good options. The Merkel years witnessed integration successes and failures, a political backlash, and administrative strains. The Merz moment seeks to correct what many perceive as imbalances and excesses. Whether it will produce a more stable, legitimate system depends on execution and on the honesty with which its trade-offs are acknowledged.

What Comes Next

In the near term, watch three fronts. First, the legal. Expect challenges to any indefinite detention provisions and to the curtailment of legal aid for final-stage appeals. German courts have a tradition of robust rights protection; the government will need to show that measures are proportionate, necessary and consistent with constitutional and European standards.

Second, the diplomatic. Returns hinge on cooperation. Syria’s de facto authorities, and the complex web of actors within and around the state, complicate routine readmission. Afghanistan’s rulers present their own difficulties. Pakistan’s posture affects the fate of stranded Afghans and the tempo of cross-border movement. Each file demands sustained engagement and careful public messaging.

Third, the political. Intra-coalition disagreements, especially when aired in public, will continue to shape the pace and tone of implementation. The AfD’s performance in regional elections will influence how aggressively the CDU seeks to press the issue. The SPD’s internal debate will determine the guardrails it insists upon. Meanwhile, Germany’s municipalities—on the frontline of reception, integration and return logistics—will push for resources and clarity.

Amid these manoeuvres, individual decisions will continue to confound tidy narratives. Some Syrians will judge return possible and desirable; others will not. Some Afghans will take cash to go back; others will cling to the hope of resettlement. Some deportations will proceed smoothly; others will be halted by courts at the last moment. Success, if it comes, will likely be incremental and messy.

Conclusion: Between Principle and Pragmatism

Germany’s repatriation offensive marks a decisive turn from the ethos of a decade ago. It strives to reconcile domestic pressures with international obligations by combining richer voluntary return packages with tougher enforcement and streamlined legal pathways to removal. It is, in part, a political response to shifting winds and the rise of the far right. It is also an administrative attempt to reassert control over a system many perceive as frayed.

Whether this new course will be judged effective and just depends on facts on the ground—both in Germany and in the countries to which people are asked to return. Declaring Syria safe does not make it so. Incentivising Afghans to abandon asylum bids does not dissolve the risks they may face under Taliban rule. Expanding detention capacity may accelerate some removals but will not address the root causes that propel people to move.

The task before Germany is not to recreate 2015, nor to pretend that deterrence alone can resolve a durable global challenge. It is to craft a migration regime that is predictable, humane, and credible: one that protects those who need protection, integrates those who stay, and returns those who do not have a right to remain—without sacrificing the country’s legal standards or moral compass. That requires candour about limits, investment in integration where warranted, and a refusal to turn vulnerable people into mere instruments of political theatre.

In the end, the measure of the repatriation offensive will not be the sharpness of its rhetoric but the steadiness of its practice: the fairness of its procedures, the truthfulness of its claims about safety, the tangible outcomes for those who return, and the cohesion it sustains among those who remain. If Germany can hold those lines, it may emerge with a policy that, while less expansive than the Willkommenskultur era, is better anchored for the long haul. If it cannot, the country risks cycling through a familiar pattern in European migration politics—big promises, modest results, and a further erosion of trust that helps no one.