On the edge of the town of Düren in Germany’s industrial heartland, roughly 200 people whistled and shouted at the occupants of Mercedes-Benz, Audi and Tesla cars as they streamed past toward the castle of Schloss Burgau.

Clad mainly in hoodies and flannels, the activists had come to disrupt a closed-door rally of the far-right Alternative for Germany, or AfD, but had few chances of overcoming well-equipped police, private security and a medieval moat. As the well-dressed supporters of the nationalist party arrived at the festivities, they looked very much like the insiders they aim to become.

The campaign event ahead of municipal elections in North Rhine-Westphalia on Sunday is indicative of the AfD’s ambition.

Once dismissed as too extreme, the anti-immigrant, anti-euro party is vying with Chancellor Friedrich Merz’s conservatives for the lead in national polls. This weekend, it’s looking to build momentum in Germany’s most-populous state — which has roughly the same number of inhabitants as neighboring Netherlands and is Merz’s home region.

“The tide is turning,” Martin Vincentz, the AfD’s lead candidate for the NRW vote, told roughly 300 cheering supporters inside the castle’s restored ballroom. “People no longer look over their shoulders when they pick up our pamphlets, worried a neighbor might see them. They come to us openly.”

The ballot for city and local leaders is the first electoral test for the new ruling coalition of the CDU/CSU bloc and the Social Democrats. While Merz’s Christian Democrats might hold on to most of their support, the labor-friendly SPD is under pressure in a former stronghold as anxiety over job security intensifies.

Polls show the AfD on pace to double or even triple their share of the NRW ballot compared with the 5% they got in the last municipal election five years ago.

Even if there is little direct national effect, the party is poised to gain sway over local councils in a key state in western Germany, sending a clear signal ahead of regional elections next year — including two in the former communist east, where the party is roughly twice as strong.

In the eastern state of Saxony-Anhalt, the AfD is by far the most popular party — polling at 39% — making it hard to keep them out of power in a federal state. That would be a first and would shake up the upper house of parliament, where regional governments are represented.

For the ruling coalition, a poor showing would intensify pressure amid internal rifts over tax policy and welfare reforms and with the export-led economy straining under tariffs imposed by U.S. President Donald Trump — whose administration has voiced support for the AfD.

Inside the high walls of Schloss Burgau, where attendees were treated to pulled pork sandwiches as well as apple cake and muffins adorned with German flags, distrust for the ruling parties was widespread. The CDU/CSU and the SPD are the only groups to have led the German government since the end of World War II and AfD supporters like Eckhard Binsfeld have had enough.

The retiree, who recently joined the party, became convinced after reading its program and losing faith in the political establishment, who he said doesn’t take voters seriously. “I don’t want to be patronized,” Binsfeld said on his way to get refreshments in the castle courtyard.

“The withdrawal is not a spontaneous whim, but actually a loss of trust,” said Silke Borgstedt, managing director of the Sinus Institute, a market research company. These voters don’t necessarily believe the AfD can solve problems, but “the AfD creates the feeling that people are seen — at least in their frustration.”

Despite its growing support in NRW, there’s been criticism from within the AfD over its relatively moderate campaign, including downplaying more radical policies like “remigration” — a euphemism for deporting foreigners.

The formula from party chapters in eastern states — where three of five have been classified as right-wing extremist by Germany’s domestic intelligence agency — can’t simply be transferred, said Vincentz, a 39-year-old medical doctor. He noted that western voters have stronger party loyalties that date back for generations, but no longer feel represented.

“We take on the hot-button issues — and we will continue to do so until we are heard,” he told supporters. “That’s why we’re being attacked.”

The far-right party is growing in places like Düren. The town of 90,000 people about 50 kilometers (30 miles) west of Cologne has been destablilized by the planned closure of nearby lignite mines, which for decades provided cheap energy for local paper mills. People across Germany’s Rust Belt might still be relatively well-off, but fears of declining living standards from technological disruption are mounting.

These are the people who Finance Minister and SPD co-leader Lars Klingbeil wants to win back. He wants them to feel the government is “taking care of them,” that their jobs are secure and that broken roads and schools will be repaired, he said.

“Some are looking for an anchor, a way to make things calm again, to restore reliability in everyday life,” Klingbeil said this month at a media event in NRW’s state capital Dusseldorf.

The government’s response includes a €500 billion ($580 billion) infrastructure fund to offset decades of underinvestment, but it will likely take years before the projects have positive a effect on people’s lives.

The urgency to fight the AfD isn’t the same everywhere. That includes places like Merz’s hometown of Brilon, a village of 25,000 in the forested hills of NRW’s Sauerland region.

“Here, everything is still right with the world,” said Werner Blüggel, sitting on a park bench on a sunny weekend morning as families and retirees strolled through cobblestone alleys with well-preserved half-timbered houses. In one of the historic homes near the main square, Merz was born and raised.

There are of course reasons why people vote for the far right, acknowledged Blüggel, the former owner of a local metals business. “But the AfD just shouts, it has no program,” he said.

The relative harmony in Brilon provides little room for the AfD, which hasn’t even fielded a candidate there, according to Mayor Christof Bartsch from the Social Democrats. Most decisions in the city council are unanimous, including suspending campaigning this weekend to avoid disrupting the annual old-town festival, he said.

But Germany’s tensions aren’t far away. In Essen, a student from Kosovo attacked his teacher with a knife earlier this month, an incident that allowed the AfD to renew its warnings about the risks posed by migrants — statistics show criminality trending downward since 2005, despite increased migration.

“There are these incidents every day, these murders, these attacks, and that has to stop,” AfD co-leader Tino Chrupalla said at the event in Schloss Burgau.

He cast a wide net in his speech: urging Germans to have more children, praising Trump as a role model and accusing Merz of distributing German money abroad. He ended with a call to become so strong that the party can’t be shunned by the mainstream anymore.

“We will see a huge wave in NRW,” Chrupalla said. “A new beginning can only come with the AfD, and everyone will see that happen.”

(Jenni Thier contributed to this report.)

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