“I never thought I’d see an outright war of aggression from our friends in Russia,” Dagmar tells me in the dingy little corner bar in Potsdam. I’d arranged to meet her to discuss her political career in East Germany in the 1970s, but we ended up talking about the present as much as the past. Like Dagmar, many of my compatriots tell me they are deeply shocked by the invasion of Ukraine. Putin’s war has changed Germany.

Russian troops marching into Ukraine marked a “watershed” in German history, as Chancellor Olaf Scholz put it when he announced a doubling of defence spending. Defence Minister Christine Lambrecht has confirmed her intention to purchase over thirty American F-35 fighter jets which “offer the unique potential to cooperate with our NATO allies”. This reversal of German geo-policy was unthinkable just a few weeks ago.

The policy change reflects a shift in public opinion. “I voted for Scholz last year because he seemed the least bad option,” says my friend Robert, a software programmer in Berlin. But the events of the last few weeks have changed his mind. “Scholz has really shown some mettle.”

Robert is not alone in this view. A recent study showed that Scholz is now by far Germany’s most popular politician. Foreign minister Annalena Baerbock has also made huge gains since her bullish speech in the UN in which she spelled out that “Russia’s war is one of aggression. And it is based on lies.” Germans clearly approve of a more assertive foreign policy.

Anne, a politics teacher in Brandenburg, also says the conflict in Ukraine has sparked “a feverish interest in current affairs” in her students. “Many used to take part in ‘Fridays for Future’ and argued fiercely for an end to nuclear and coal, but in light of current events there is now real debate about energy policy.”

Indeed, over half of Germans want the country’s nuclear exit to be delayed as energy dependence on Russia was exposed. But so far Economy Minister Robert Habeck is unimpressed by the swing in public opinion and wants to stick to the scheduled phase-out by the end of this year.

Meanwhile, more than 50% of Germans even support a continuation of the coal sector as they realise that their gas bills continue to feed Putin’s war chest. Former President Joachim Gauck has called on the country to “freeze for freedom”, but Habeck has ruled out an import ban on Russian oil and gas, fearing “social unrest”, despite the fact that 55% of German voters would be happy to make the enormous sacrifice.

But despite the spirit of defiance, the emotion I see most among ordinary Germans is fear. My grandmother in Thuringia tells me she can’t bear the Ukrainian air raid sirens on TV. A schoolgirl during the Second World War, her fear of bombardment, dormant for nearly eight decades, has resurfaced. “You don’t know what it’s like to sleep with your shoes on in case you have to run to the shelter again.”

But many younger Germans are frightened too. A powerful mix of the collective national guilt carried over from two world wars, their country’s central position at the fault lines of the Cold War, and its direct borders with Eastern Europe, make the horrors of the war in Ukraine very tangible to them. But this time, fear has not turned into pacifism. Putin’s war has made Germany realise that peace in Europe needs to be defended.

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Katja Hoyer is a German-British historian and writer. She is the author, most recently, of Beyond the Wall: East Germany, 1949-1990.

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