Germany's luxury car scandal sparks political backlash

Row over Heidi Reichinnek's service car: Can a leftist afford luxury? - German politicians clash over luxury cars and nepotism accusations

A social media storm has erupted around Left Party parliamentary group leader Heidi Reichinnek. The far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) has accused her of driving an expensive car, while others claim the allegations are fabricated.

In Germany, debates over envy—especially in politics—are something of a national pastime. They work particularly well when politicians are caught advocating public standards they don't apply to themselves. Now, Heidi Reichinnek finds herself at the center of such accusations. A photo circulating on social media shows her standing in front of an Audi A8 (list price: around €106,000) with the license plate B-HR 419.

For the AfD, this is a gift. "Is this €100,000 diesel-powered Audi A8 50 TDI—with your initials HR and your birthdate, April 19—your car?" AfD lawmaker Beatrix von Storch sneered on X (formerly Twitter). She went on: "Do you drive it privately, or does the party pay for it? Or is this an AI-generated fake?"

Other commentators accused von Storch of falling for a hoax. Soon, images surfaced showing a different license plate on the vehicle.

According to stern magazine, the car in question is not Reichinnek's personal vehicle but a leased car used by the Left Party's executive leadership. The Left Party declined to comment on the matter, including whether the license plate was genuine or forged.

That said, personalized license plates are far from unusual among top politicians. Friedrich Merz, leader of the center-right CDU, is known to have his initials on his private plane. Former Free Democratic Party (FDP) leader Christian Lindner once drove a Porsche with the plate D-CL 2017, the numbers referencing the year he aimed to lead his party back into the Bundestag. Reichinnek's predecessor, Dietmar Bartsch, also used a car with a personalized plate for a time.

Then there's the extremist variation. Siegbert Droese, an AfD member of the European Parliament who served in the Bundestag from 2017 to 2021, made headlines in 2016 for choosing the license plate AH 1818 for his official car—a double neo-Nazi code for Adolf Hitler, combining his initials with their positions in the alphabet (A=1, H=8). Compared to that, minor political vanities seem almost harmless.

Nor is the fact that Reichinnek uses an official car particularly scandalous. For one, all parliamentary group leaders in the Bundestag do the same. For another, the sheer volume of appointments in such roles makes a personal vehicle a practical necessity.

The car's relatively high price tag is also standard in the Bundestag. Major automakers like Audi and Mercedes often offer top politicians and parliamentary groups particularly favorable leasing terms in exchange for visibility. Leasing a modest compact car could, in fact, have cost the Left Party significantly more than the Audi.

Beatrix von Storch, of course, knows all this—she is, after all, the AfD's deputy parliamentary group leader. In that capacity, she helps decide who in her party gets which vehicle, as these decisions are made internally by the factions. The funds come from the Bundestag in the form of a lump sum based on the group's size. Her question—whether Reichinnek pays for the car "privately" or has "the party" foot the bill—is pure rhetoric. The real answer: neither. The same applies to Alice Weidel, the AfD's co-leader, and her official car.

In practice, parliamentary groups handle official vehicles differently. Some provide cars for both the chair and the parliamentary manager, while others reserve them only for the top leadership. Whether a lawmaker drives themselves or gets a chauffeur is also up to the faction.

At most, those determined to find outrage might seize on the fact that the Left Party advocates phasing out combustion engines yet still uses them. But unlike the Greens, environmental issues are not a core priority for the Left—redistribution and social justice are. And that holds true for Heidi Reichinnek as well.

The AfD's criticism is likely little more than a diversionary tactic. For days, both the party and its parliamentary group have faced intense scrutiny over mounting evidence of extensive nepotism networks. Among the revelations: the wife of Baden-Württemberg's lead candidate, Markus Frohnmaier—a Bundestag member for the AfD and, like von Storch, a deputy parliamentary group leader—is employed by one of his fellow lawmakers. Frohnmaier defended the arrangement, insisting it was purely a matter of qualifications.

Yet even within the party, the move has drawn criticism. Anton Baron, the AfD's parliamentary group leader in Baden-Württemberg, described the situation as leaving "a bad taste." It seems that preaching one set of standards while holding oneself to another does not sit well with everyone in the AfD.