A Former AfD Activist Is Building a German Unit Inside Russia’s Army

Russia’s war is attracting a new kind of foreign fighter. Not only economic migrants promised money and citizenship, and not only people who, according to European investigations, were deceived into believing they were travelling to Russia for civilian work. Increasingly, the Russian military is also becoming a destination for Europeans who see Moscow as an ideological alternative to the political order they oppose at home.

Noah Krieger is one of the clearest examples of this shift. The former member of Germany’s far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD), whose real name is Murad Dadaev, has announced plans to create a German unit inside Russia’s armed forces. The formation, which he says will be called “Krieger”, is supposed to recruit German citizens and focus primarily on drone warfare rather than operate directly on the front line.

There is no independent evidence that the unit has already become a functioning military formation. But the announcement itself is politically significant. A man who built his public identity around German nationalism and far-right politics is now attempting to turn that identity into service in the army of a foreign state waging war in Europe. For Moscow, this is useful propaganda. For Germany, it is a security problem. And for Europe, it is another sign that Russia’s influence networks are no longer confined to political parties, online disinformation or sympathetic public figures. The war is increasingly creating direct links between ideological radicalisation, military recruitment and foreign political influence.

From AfD activist to Russian soldier

Krieger’s trajectory did not begin with his announcement of a “German battalion”. In Germany, he became known as an AfD activist and social media figure. Investigations by Correctiv and the Russian independent outlet Important Stories identified him as Murad Dadaev, a native of Chechnya who had lived in Germany and built a public persona around German nationalism and closer relations between Germany and Russia. The Lower Saxony branch of the AfD subsequently initiated proceedings to expel him from the party, and German media later reported that he had been removed from the party’s membership lists.

His political profile had already raised questions before he appeared in Russian military uniform. During a visit to Chechnya in March, Dadaev met local officials and attended a session of the regional parliament. He also presented Chechen Deputy Prime Minister Akhmed Dudaev with a Luftwaffe dagger from the Nazi era bearing a swastika. He reportedly underwent firearms training during the visit and maintained contacts with figures linked to the Kadyrov regime.

The symbolism was difficult to miss. A German far-right activist, a Chechen-born man operating under a German name, travelling to the North Caucasus, cultivating ties with the political system of Ramzan Kadyrov and presenting a Nazi-era military object to a senior Chechen official. The combination says something about the political environment in which Russia’s foreign recruitment operates. The Kremlin does not require every foreign supporter to share a coherent ideology; it can bring together actors whose political identities would otherwise appear incompatible.

German nationalism, Chechen authoritarianism, Russian imperialism and anti-liberal European radicalism can all coexist within the same political ecosystem when they are united by opposition to the European order. Krieger’s own transformation makes that overlap unusually visible.

The language of the new unit is more important than its size

In July, Krieger announced that Russia had created a military unit for German citizens. He said the formation would bear his name and focus on combating drones. His recruitment messaging included discriminatory restrictions against homosexuals and references to Nazi and Prussian military symbolism. Among the slogans he used were “Gott mit uns” — “God is with us” — and “Meine Ehre heißt Treue”, “My honour is loyalty”, the latter being the motto of the SS.

The proposed unit may never become militarily significant, but it does not need to in order to be politically useful. Russia has repeatedly used foreign fighters as symbols in its information campaigns. A foreign citizen who joins its military can be presented as evidence that the war is not simply a Russian invasion of Ukraine, but part of a wider ideological conflict in which Europeans themselves are supposedly choosing Moscow.

The individual recruit becomes a political message. This is particularly useful when the recruit comes from a country that Russia defines as an enemy. A German fighting for Russia is more valuable to Kremlin propaganda than an anonymous foreign contract soldier from a country with little political influence in Europe. The number of people involved may be marginal, but the image can travel much further.

The proposed “German battalion” therefore has at least two possible functions. It may be a genuine attempt to recruit a small group of ideologically motivated fighters, but it can also function as a propaganda project designed to create the impression of a wider European movement. The two purposes are not mutually exclusive, and the Russian state has repeatedly demonstrated that even small foreign formations can have a value disproportionate to their military importance.

Russia has built a global recruitment system

Krieger is different from many of the foreigners Russia has recruited since the full-scale invasion, but his case is part of a much larger system. Russia has increasingly relied on foreign nationals to sustain its war effort. The European Parliament has condemned recruitment practices involving citizens of African countries, Cuba and parts of Asia, including cases in which people were allegedly lured to Russia with false promises of employment, education or citizenship before being forced or pressured into military service.

A study published in April by the International Federation for Human Rights, Truth Hounds and the Kazakhstan International Bureau for Human Rights and Rule of Law estimated that Russia had recruited at least 27,000 foreign nationals from more than 130 countries since the beginning of the full-scale invasion. The organisations described the system as an organised and institutionalised transnational recruitment structure rather than a collection of isolated cases.

The methods vary. Some recruits are attracted by large payments, while others are promised Russian citizenship or recruited through existing migrant networks. In other cases, investigations and official European institutions have documented people who were deceived about the nature of the work they were travelling to Russia to perform. Alongside these groups is a smaller but politically important category of ideologically motivated foreigners who genuinely view Russia as an alternative to the political future offered by liberal Europe.

The Russian military can use all of these categories for different purposes. This is why the proposed “German battalion” should not be dismissed simply as a bizarre personal project by a fringe activist. It reflects the convergence of two broader Russian needs: the need for manpower and the need for political legitimacy. A foreign recruit can help address the first. An ideologically motivated European who publicly chooses to fight for Russia can, at least symbolically, help address both.

The foreign fighter as a propaganda asset

Krieger’s case is particularly revealing because he does not fit the profile of someone allegedly deceived into military service. He is presenting the decision as a political act, and his public statements frame participation in the Russian war as an expression of identity, loyalty and ideological commitment. He has described himself as a German patriot while fighting on the side of a foreign power against a European state.

That contradiction is precisely what makes the case useful to Moscow. Russia has spent years trying to convince European audiences that the European Union and liberal democracy are not the only possible political futures. Its propaganda has promoted the idea of Russia as a defender of traditional values, national sovereignty and resistance to what it calls Western decadence.

The message is deliberately broad. To some audiences, Russia is a defender of Christianity. To others, it is the centre of an anti-Western civilisation. To European far-right movements, it can appear as a state willing to reject liberal norms and challenge the institutions they oppose. The Russian state does not need these audiences to agree on everything; it only needs them to agree on the enemy.

That is why an activist using Nazi-era military symbolism can find himself operating inside a Russian military environment that officially presents its war as a struggle against “Nazism”. The contradiction is not a problem for the Kremlin. Russian propaganda has never required ideological consistency from its foreign allies. The same political ecosystem can absorb European neo-Nazis, anti-Western conservatives, authoritarian nationalists, religious radicals and anti-globalist conspiracy theorists when they can all be directed against the same political adversary.

The common denominator is not a coherent ideology. It is opposition to the existing European order.

The contradiction at the centre of European far-right nationalism

Krieger’s story also exposes a broader contradiction within parts of Europe’s far right. These movements often define themselves through sovereignty, national identity and resistance to foreign influence. Yet some of the most pro-Russian elements of the European far right are increasingly willing to subordinate their own national political identity to Moscow.

A man presenting himself as a defender of Germany can therefore join the army of a foreign state that is waging war against a European country and attempting to reshape the continent’s security architecture. The contradiction is not unique to Krieger. For years, Russia has cultivated relationships with European political forces that oppose NATO, the EU, sanctions and military support for Ukraine. These relationships have taken different forms, including political contacts, media platforms, online propaganda, financial links and visits to Russia or Russian-occupied territories.

The next stage is more direct. Political sympathy can become physical mobilisation. A supporter can become a recruiter, a propagandist can become a soldier and a political network can become a source of personnel. That transition matters because military experience changes the security implications of political radicalisation. An extremist who posts propaganda online is a political problem; an extremist who has received military training, gained access to weapons and built contacts with foreign military structures presents a different kind of challenge.

Russia’s manpower problem is creating new opportunities

The expansion of foreign recruitment is also connected to the realities of Russia’s war. Moscow has sought to maintain a large military force without resorting to a mobilisation campaign that could create significant domestic political costs. Recruitment has consequently become increasingly decentralised and international.

Foreigners can be offered financial incentives that would be difficult to offer to Russian citizens at the same scale. They can be promised citizenship, recruited through existing migrant networks or targeted through online campaigns. In cases such as Krieger’s, they can also be attracted through ideology. The result is a recruitment system with several overlapping layers, in which economic vulnerability, legal insecurity, deception and political radicalisation can all lead people into the same military structure.

Russia does not necessarily need foreigners to become Russians. It needs them to become useful. For some, usefulness means serving as infantry. For others, it means working with drones, logistics or military production. For ideologically motivated Europeans, it may also mean providing political legitimacy to the war. The Russian military can use all of these forms of participation, which is why the proposed “German battalion” reflects more than one activist’s personal ambitions.

It represents the convergence of two Russian needs: manpower and legitimacy. A foreign recruit can help address the first. An ideologically motivated European who publicly chooses to fight for Russia can, at least symbolically, help address both.

The security risk begins after the war

The most serious European question may not be whether Krieger recruits ten Germans or a hundred. It is what happens to foreign fighters who survive the war.

Russia is creating a transnational environment in which foreign nationals can acquire combat experience, contacts with military and security structures, access to extremist networks and a political relationship with the Russian state. That does not mean every foreign recruit will return to Europe as a security threat, but it does mean that the war is creating a new category of people whose political radicalisation is connected to direct military experience.

The European Parliament has already warned about the scale and organisation of Russia’s foreign recruitment system and called for stronger efforts to identify recruitment networks and protect people who have been deceived or coerced into service.

The ideological volunteers create a different challenge. They are not necessarily victims of trafficking and may be willing participants in the Russian war effort. That makes them harder to address through traditional counter-trafficking mechanisms and raises a broader question about how European states should treat citizens who deliberately join the armed forces of a state engaged in war against a European partner.

The issue is not limited to individual criminal responsibility. A foreign fighter can also become part of a wider network of recruitment, propaganda and political influence. Krieger’s case suggests that these categories are becoming increasingly difficult to separate.

The battlefield is expanding into Europe’s political space

The proposed German unit may remain small. It may fail to recruit enough people to become a meaningful military force, or it may exist primarily as an online project. That would not make the story irrelevant.

The important development is the political pathway it represents. A European far-right activist can move from domestic politics to contact with a Russian-aligned authoritarian regime, from there to the Russian military and then attempt to recruit fellow European citizens into the same structure. This is a very different model of influence from the one Europe was accustomed to confronting before the full-scale invasion.

The Kremlin does not need to convert mainstream European politics to its side. It only needs to maintain relationships with the most radical and politically useful parts of European society. Those networks can serve different purposes at different times: spreading narratives, undermining support for Ukraine, attacking European institutions, providing political cover for Russia and, in some cases, supplying people willing to fight.