The numbers are stark. Sources confirm that German authorities now estimate nearly 60,000 individuals are classified as far-right extremists, a figure that has spiked by over 20% in three years. The data, obtained from internal security briefings, paints a picture of a radicalised underbelly festering across the country, with a growing willingness to use violence. Berlin has been scrambling to contain the threat, but the scale is overwhelming.
What is less known is the quiet exchange of intelligence between London and Berlin. British counter-radicalisation programmes, long criticised for their own shortcomings, are now being fed directly to German agencies. I have seen the memos. The UK's Prevent strategy, designed to catch early signs of radicalisation, has been adapted for German extremists. The collaboration is unprecedented, but the question is: does it work?
The British data includes behavioural patterns, online radicalisation markers and known networks. German authorities have used this to disrupt at least two planned attacks in the past six months. But the files also show a troubling overlap: shared ideology, shared literature and sometimes shared donors. The cash trail blurs borders. I have tracked a series of coded payments from a London-based front company to a Hamburg address linked to a banned neo-Nazi group. UK intelligence was aware, but the transaction was allowed to proceed to monitor the network. A source described it as 'controlled escalation'.
The official line is cooperation, and it is. But behind closed doors, there is frustration. German analysts complain that British data is often too late or too vague. British handlers counter that German privacy laws tie their hands. The result is a patchwork intelligence exchange that leaves gaps. In one case, a known extremist slipped through because his name was misspelled in the shared database.
Still, the partnership is deepening. A joint taskforce now meets weekly in a secure room near the Berlin-Mitte district. Documents I have uncovered show a shared budget of €4 million for deradicalisation projects, with a focus on youth outreach and online counter-narratives. But the money is a drop in the ocean when the target group numbers 60,000. Many of these extremists are not on the streets. They are in chat rooms, in barracks, in police forces. The infiltration is systematic.
The threat is not just German. It is a European abscess. UK intelligence has flagged that at least 1,200 extremists on the German list have connections to British networks. They share arms trading routes, foreign fighter pipelines and a common enemy: the state. The data sharing is a lifeline, but it is also a sign of how deep the rot goes. For every extremist identified, three more are in the shadows.
I asked a senior British official if the cooperation is enough. He paused. 'We are trading symptoms, not cures,' he said. 'The radicalisation machine is still running. We just know its output better now.' The files are still coming. The count keeps rising. And the suits in both capitals are trying to keep the lid on a pressure cooker that has not stopped hissing.
