Germany is emerging as Europe's foremost critic of China, a significant shift in Berlin's traditionally accommodating approach to Beijing that reflects mounting economic pressures facing the country's industrial base. New research by the European Council on Foreign Relations reveals that German public opinion has hardened substantially against China, positioning the nation ahead of all other European countries surveyed in viewing Beijing with suspicion rather than partnership.

The scale of German scepticism stands out starkly in comparative perspective. Some 49 per cent of Germans polled characterised China as primarily a rival or adversary—substantially higher than the 43 per cent recorded in France, traditionally Europe's most interventionist voice on trade matters. Meanwhile, only 38 per cent of Germans retain a positive view of China as either a partner or ally, a dramatic reversal in a relationship historically built on economic interdependence and pragmatic co-existence. The contrast becomes even more pointed when comparing Germany to other European nations: 65 per cent of Spaniards and 62 per cent of Bulgarians maintain favourable views of Beijing, highlighting how distinctly negative German sentiment has become.

The underlying cause of this reorientation is straightforward and measurable. Germany's manufacturing sector has haemorrhaged employment at an alarming rate, losing approximately 420,000 jobs between 2019 and 2025, with the bleeding continuing at a pace of roughly 10,000 positions each month. The European Council report identifies this as the "China shock"—a sudden and sustained loss of competitive advantage in sectors where Germany has long dominated. The automotive industry, historically the crown jewel of German manufacturing and a primary driver of national prosperity, faces particular pressure as Chinese manufacturers systematically capture market share both within Germany and globally. This structural erosion of employment and industrial capacity has created a visceral economic grievance within the German population that political leaders cannot ignore.

Despite these economic realities, Berlin's political establishment has thus far resisted more assertive trade measures against China. During 2024, Germany stood out as a notable reluctant participant when European Union member states voted to impose anti-subsidy duties on Chinese-manufactured electric vehicles. The government of Chancellor Friedrich Merz contains internal divisions on China policy, with Economy Minister Katherina Reiche—a fellow member of Merz's Christian Democratic Union—reportedly serving as the most cautious cabinet voice when discussions turn toward confronting what analysts describe as a "China shock 2.0". This institutional hesitation contrasts sharply with public sentiment, creating a gap between what Germans want and what their government has been willing to deliver.

Yet the political calculus may be shifting. The European Council report suggests that mainstream German political parties need not fear voter backlash should they adopt a harder line toward Beijing. Among supporters of both the dominant Christian Democratic Union and the Social Democrats, no fewer than 60 per cent regard China as either an adversary or rival. This represents substantial political permission for policymakers to move toward trade restrictions and defensive measures without risking electoral punishment from their traditional voter bases. The research essentially tells Berlin's political class that pursuing what might be branded a hawkish China strategy would align with rather than contradict prevailing public sentiment.

One intriguing political wrinkle complicates this straightforward narrative of consensus. The parties occupying the extremes of Germany's political spectrum—the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) and the left-wing Die Linke—demonstrate notably different attitudes toward China. The AfD, which currently leads in many nationwide polling surveys and is projected to achieve strong results in several provisional elections this year, views China most positively among major political forces. Within AfD support, 45 per cent describe China as a necessary partner, while only 31 per cent characterise it as a rival and 8 per cent as an adversary. This positioning reflects the AfD's broader "America-critical, Russia-pragmatic, China-pragmatic" foreign policy orientation. Conversely, and perhaps surprisingly given European social democracy's historical preference for dialogue with Beijing, the centre-left Social Democrats emerge as the most assertively critical mainstream party, with 60 per cent of their supporters viewing China as either rival or adversary.

Industry itself is now applying pressure that may prove decisive in reshaping German policy. During a recent investor conference, the chief executive of Volkswagen—one of Germany's "big three" automotive manufacturers—made an extraordinary public statement: he called upon the European Commission to impose tariffs on Chinese-made plug-in hybrid electric vehicles. This represented a complete reversal from the same executive's vigorous opposition to precisely such duties merely months earlier in 2024. As Noah Barkin, an expert on German-China relations at the Rhodium Group, observed, this marked the first instance of a leader from one of Germany's major automakers publicly advocating for trade defence measures against Chinese competitors. The significance of this shift cannot be overstated: it signals that the traditional German corporate strategy—quiet lobbying of Berlin and Brussels to maintain the economic status quo—has become untenable in the face of actual competitive displacement.

This combination of public opinion, political space, and corporate pressure suggests that Germany's China policy faces genuine transformation. For decades, the German model has emphasised engagement and commercial partnership with Beijing, built on the premise that economic integration would serve mutual interests and create stability. That framework assumed relatively balanced competition in manufacturing sectors and the absence of state-directed industrial capture. The emergence of Chinese competitors wielding both technological sophistication and state financial backing has shattered these assumptions. Germany now confronts a strategic choice between adhering to an outdated approach or acknowledging that the relationship has fundamentally shifted in character and requires defensive responses.

The implications for Southeast Asia are substantial. Should Germany lead a European hardening against Chinese trade practices, it would reinforce broader Western efforts to constrain Beijing's economic expansion and manufacturing advantages. The region, deeply integrated into Chinese supply chains and dependent on trade flows with both China and Europe, faces exposure to escalating Sino-Western economic tension. Malaysia, as both an ASEAN hub and a significant player in electronics and automotive manufacturing, would encounter new pressures from any European adoption of Chinese-style protectionism or industrial policy competition. Additionally, if German manufacturing sectors successfully erect barriers against Chinese competitors, it may create a template that other nations seek to replicate, fundamentally altering the open trade environment upon which Southeast Asian prosperity has depended.