Realpolitik is a German word, and sometimes no country practices it with fewer qualms than Germany. Chancellor Friedrich Merz has opened negotiations with the Taliban in exchange for Afghanistan agreeing to repatriate immigrants from that country who have been convicted of serious crimes in Germany.

Is this dialogue with one of the world’s least desirable governments an exercise in political pragmatism? Or is it a disregard for the victims, mainly women, of a regime against which Germany and its allies fought for two decades?

The Christian Democrat Merz, who leads a coalition government with the Social Democrats, has been trying to expedite the deportation of Afghan migrants since coming to power six months ago. To do so, he needs the cooperation of the Taliban, who captured Kabul in 2021 as international forces rushed to withdraw.

The agreement between Berlin and Kabul, which could be finalized in the coming weeks, would allow Merz to showcase the effectiveness of his policy for deporting undocumented foreign criminals. This comes at a politically sensitive time, with the rising far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) party gaining popularity with its hard line on immigration.

The Taliban regime, which for now is only formally recognized by Russia, gains something valuable in return: the legitimacy that comes from maintaining a dialogue with a major country in the European Union.

The German case raises a dilemma that other countries will face in the near future: What to do with the Taliban four years after the fall of Kabul? Is an end to diplomatic isolation inevitable in the long run?

Germany already expelled 28 Afghans in August 2024, when the Social Democrat Olaf Scholz was in power leading a coalition with Greens and Liberals. In July 2025, with Merz as Chancellor, the government repeated the operation, returning 81 Afghans to their country.

In both cases, the expulsions were organized with Qatar’s mediation. But now Berlin wants to arrange them directly with the Taliban, a regime that Germany officially does not recognize, although it maintains minimal diplomatic relations with the Afghan state.

In recent weeks, Berlin has sent senior German officials to Kabul to negotiate the logistics of future deportations. It has also agreed to the Taliban’s offer of sending two diplomats to Germany. The Afghan embassy and consulates in the country have continued operating since 2021 with staff who had worked for the previous government.

“This isn’t about quid pro quo, but about finally being able to return people convicted of serious crimes to their countries of origin,” German Interior Minister Alexander Dobrindt told local media. The goal is an agreement to proceed with deportations, no longer on an occasional basis as has been the case until now, but “on a regular basis.” “We’ve made progress [in the talks], but there’s still no date [for the flights to begin]. Our aim is to move quickly,” he stated.

When news emerged a few days ago that the Taliban planned to raise their flag at the Afghan Embassy in Berlin, it set off alarm bells among Afghans living in Germany and also among veterans of the war in that country. It would be the clearest symbol of change. The new regime, as revealed by the German public broadcaster ARD, wants to replace the old black, red, and green flag with the Taliban flag, which is white and bears the Islamic inscription: “There is no god but God, and Muhammad is his prophet.”

“For 20 years, Parliament and the federal government sent us to the Hindu Kush to fight the Taliban,” lamented Bundeswehr veteran Wolf Gregis, author of the book The Battle of Good Friday: German Soldiers Under Taliban Fire, on social media. “Too many of our comrades lost their lives, their health, or their happiness there. We will not accept the Taliban now celebrating their victory here.”

“It’s not just about the flag,” Patoni Teichmann, an Afghan human rights activist and director of the European Organization for Integration, explains in an email. “It’s about the fact that representatives of an organization that is internationally considered a terrorist group, that oppresses women, that systematically uses violence, and that carries out a policy of gender apartheid, can show up here in Germany.”

Teichmann also notes the risk that, if the consulates fall under the control of diplomats from the new regime, they will have access to data on “thousands of Afghan women” living in Europe.

Another risk, in her view, is that other countries will follow Germany’s lead. “If a country that appears on the world stage as a moral voice for human rights begins to quietly normalize the Taliban, other Western countries could adopt this same approach,” she warns. “It would set a dangerous precedent, granting international legitimacy to the Taliban without them changing their behavior, without allowing women to return to school, and without releasing political prisoners.”

There are approximately 400,000 Afghans living in Germany, and they are the nationality with the highest number of asylum seekers in the country after Syria. Fears of uncontrolled immigration contributed to the success of the AfD in the last general election in February, which saw it become the second-largest party in parliament.

Merz and his coalition partners believe that, to contain the far right, they must address these concerns of a segment of society and bring order to the immigration system. The government agreement signed by the Christian Democrats and Social Democrats included this promise: “We will deport people to Afghanistan and Syria, starting with criminals and dangerous individuals.”

These days, at the Afghan Embassy in Grunewald, a neighborhood of mansions and woods in West Berlin, the old black, red, and green flag still flies. The streets are deserted. A car stops. The driver gets out and strikes up a conversation with the journalist. When asked if the Taliban flag will soon be flying here, he dismisses the question with a smile: “Fake news.”

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