Can Friedrich Merz save Germany from becoming irrelevant?

Spectator

12 hours ago

Friedrich Merz arrived in Washington this week alongside Europe's most senior leaders, ostensibly to coordinate the continent's response to Trump's Ukraine designs. Here was Germany's moment to demonstrate the leadership it perpetually claims to seek – a chance to shape the conversation that will determine Europe's security architecture for years to come. Instead, before the Chancellor could even present his case to the Americans, his own foreign minister Johann Wadephul delivered a masterclass in diplomatic self-sabotage from Berlin.
Germany must play 'an important role' in any future peacekeeping mission in Ukraine, declared the CDU politician, before categorically ruling out German soldiers on Ukrainian soil. 'That would presumably overwhelm us,' he explained with the sort of defeatist precision that has become his government's signature. In a single sentence, Wadephul had kneecapped his own Chancellor's negotiating position, advertising Germany's limitations rather than its capabilities to anyone listening.
This wasn't merely unfortunate timing – it was the latest instalment in a pattern of cabinet colleagues undermining Merz's already tentative efforts at international leadership. Whether on defence spending, migration policy or economic reform, the Chancellor finds himself repeatedly ambushed by ministers who seem determined to advertise Germany's unwillingness to shoulder serious responsibilities. One might call it capitulation before the first battle was fought, but this represents something more systematic: the crystallisation of a political culture that has made strategic irrelevance into an art form.
Here lies the exquisite tragedy of modern Germany: a nation trapped between its aspirations and its neuroses, too large to be irrelevant yet too terrified to actually lead. While Merz and other European leaders huddle in the White House, desperately hoping to dissuade Trump from striking a deal at Kyiv's expense, political Berlin sends its familiar signal: Yes, we speak of responsibility. No, we won't actually take it.
The coalition has made itself thoroughly comfortable in this culture of irresponsibility. Vice-Chancellor Lars Klingbeil offered a textbook example of political evasion in his recent television interview, declaring that 'naturally we must also assume responsibility as Europeans when it comes to security guarantees'. Whether this involves troops, training, money, or something else entirely 'must all be clarified in the coming days'. What sounds like commitment is actually an escape hatch – the political equivalent of agreeing to meet for lunch 'sometime soon'.
Few politicians dare acknowledge the challenges that Russian imperial ambition actually poses to Germany. CDU foreign policy expert Roderich Kiesewetter represents a rare voice of clarity, reminding his colleague Wadephul that European peace cannot be guaranteed without military backing – including ground troops if necessary. Germany, Kiesewetter argues, cannot lead from Central Europe whilst simultaneously refusing engagement where it matters. The mathematics are brutal but simple: you cannot exercise leadership whilst advertising your unwillingness to pay its price. Yet this is precisely Germany's chosen strategy, demanding a seat at the top table whilst openly declaring vast swathes of policy off-limits.
Chancellor Merz understands that Germany cannot define its role through economic power alone. Since taking office, he has tentatively begun moving Germany back towards leadership responsibility. But the resistance is formidable – within his own party, throughout the coalition, and amongst a public that has grown comfortable with foreign policy free-riding. The result is that Germany is stuck in an interstitial position: too significant to be ignored, too anxious to genuinely lead. Whilst Washington discusses Ukraine's and Europe's future, Berlin resembles a spectator at its own continent's strategic deliberations. It wanted to be an actor yet seems content remaining in the audience.
This dysfunction extends far beyond foreign policy. The coalition's domestic paralysis mirrors its international timidity. When asked about the government's future direction, Klingbeil couldn't even feign enthusiasm for his own coalition. Rather than articulating any compelling vision, he made clear that he views this partnership as little more than a marriage of convenience – one held together primarily by fear of the far-right Alternative für Deutschland party (AfD). Defining oneself solely in opposition to populists represents political dwarfism of the highest order. Those serious about defeating populism cannot practise politics purely ex negativo. They must offer positive alternatives, compelling visions, genuine leadership. Instead, Klingbeil offered warmed-over social democratic orthodoxy: higher taxes for high earners.
But lack of revenue isn't Germany's problem. Rather, astronomical debt and a bloated welfare state burden the republic with obligations that will eventually crush future generations. Precisely when populists will find their richest hunting grounds. If Klingbeil genuinely wants to defeat populism, he must confront Germans with uncomfortable truths: they will need to work more and longer to save the pension system. Social spending must be cut – the state cannot continue housing every applicant in city centres. Real change requires discomfort for those who have arranged their lives at public expense.
Klingbeil should also cease attacking coalition partners who dare speak inconvenient truths. When Trade Minister Katherina Reiche recently demanded Germans work harder, this wasn't pandering to the right – it was acknowledging a bitter reality. The coalition catastrophically underestimates German citizens by assuming they cannot handle genuine reforms. The necessary cuts would be entirely explicable. Everyone understands that deterring Russia carries costs. Everyone can calculate that fewer young workers cannot indefinitely finance more retirees' pensions. This requires basic arithmetic, not advanced mathematics.
The irony is exquisite: by merely managing stagnation, the coalition achieves precisely what Klingbeil claims to oppose. Nothing feeds populists like politics' inability to address change. If the Union and SPD continue this path, they can watch the AfD overtake them in the next election. Germany's predicament extends beyond coalition politics to a fundamental crisis of strategic imagination. The country that once produced visionaries like Adenauer and Erhard, the architects of post-war European integration, now struggles to articulate any coherent vision of its role in a rapidly changing world.
This matters far beyond Germany's borders. Europe desperately needs German leadership as it confronts Russian aggression, Chinese economic warfare, and American strategic uncertainty. Instead, it receives hesitation, half-measures, and the perpetual promise that someone else will handle the difficult decisions. The tragedy is that Germany possesses the resources, influence, and historical experience necessary for genuine leadership. What it lacks is the political courage to embrace the responsibilities that leadership entails. Until Berlin overcomes its preference for strategic irrelevance over strategic engagement, Europe will remain dangerously dependent on powers whose interests may not align with European security.
Germany's choice is stark: lead or become irrelevant. The current strategy of wanting influence without responsibility represents the worst of both worlds and is a recipe for strategic marginalisation disguised as pragmatic restraint. The question is whether German politicians will recognise this reality before their nation's window for meaningful leadership closes entirely. Current evidence suggests they may prefer the comfort of managed decline to the challenges of actual leadership. If so, Germany's partners should plan accordingly.