Angela Merkel

by Stefan Kornelius

  In fact very few people in Europe were convinced, but deep inside Merkel knew that this war couldn't be allowed to lead to a transatlantic rift or cause damage to Europe. Her answer to the problem appeared on 20th February – of all places on page 39 of the Washington Post.

  Once again she was giving her opinion to a newspaper. Rarely is Angela Merkel deliberately courageous, and rarely does she choose to expose herself to danger. On only two or three previous occasions had she been known to make bold decisions. When she was Environment Minister she visited the nuclear-waste facility at Gorleben – a risky outing given that there were noisy demonstrations going on outside the plant. And in December 1999 she wrote a letter breaking with the father figure of the CDU, Helmut Kohl, which was published in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung. Already rocked by an expenses scandal, the party was shaken to its foundations and Merkel had taken a vital step towards becoming its leader.

  “We don't know what it really feels like. We have to experience it ourselves.” This is what Merkel usually tells colleagues in difficult situations where the outcome is uncertain. That was the case on 20th February 2003, when the Washington Post published a guest contribution by the leader of Germany's opposition party on its opinions page. “Schröder Doesn't Speak for All Germans” was the title of the article. In it, Merkel took the Chancellor to task for his policy on Iraq – something quite unheard of. It is an unspoken rule never to attack the government of your own country abroad, and certainly not in a newspaper. The author of such an article risks being accused of currying favour in the cheapest possible way, perhaps even of cowardice. In her guest column, Merkel accused Schröder of adopting a position out of “electoral tactics”. She also condemned the French government for attacking new Eastern European candidates for membership of the EU “simply because they have declared their commitment to the transatlantic partnership”. And she conjured up the nightmare scenario of German foreign policy: of being once again alone and isolated in history.

  These were the opposition leader's greatest fears: that Germany might distance itself from the Western alliance of values, Schröder might break with America, the nation to which Germany owed its rebirth after the Second World War, as well as its acceptance into the Western alliance. And back would come the poison that, so often in German history, had driven the nation into isolation and eventually to its downfall.

  The article provides a true illustration of Merkel's core sensibilities. She had no intention of punishing Schröder: she just wanted to dispel, via an American newspaper, any doubts that Germany might not be a reliable ally. Where foreign policy was concerned she refused to give up her deeply held convictions.

  In the Chancellor's closest circle today, the view is that the newspaper article was not really necessary. Nowadays she wouldn't lay it on quite so thick. As Leader of the Opposition she had already made her position clear in speeches in the Bundestag. This may be true, but as a statement on foreign policy, the Washington Post article came across as the most authentic one she made during her time in opposition – accordingly, it brought her strong criticism. Yet more than anything it established the image of Angela Merkel as a true supporter of transatlantic relations and an obedient ally for years to come. What the Leipzig party conference had achieved for social and economic policy, her Washington Post article did for foreign policy. In a mixture of self-assertion within her party, genuine indignation at Chancellor Schröder and fear that the foundations of her world would be overturned, Merkel chose to stay close to the United States, and thus in the eyes of her critics, pro-war. She had to become Chancellor before she could be able to correct this image of her position on foreign policy.

  At that time it wasn't difficult to despise President George W. Bush. Bush had only been elected in 2000 because, after heated legal battles, the US Supreme Court stopped a recount of the votes in Florida and awarded the Republican candidate victory in that state. Bush was a president appointed by the court rather than the people. Liberal Western Europe reacted with outrage. Al Gore was the natural winner, not this ignorant provincial politician from Texas whose only merit was being the son of George Herbert Walker Bush, the former President and Helmut Kohl's ally during German reunification.

  It took George W. Bush some time to settle into the job. Then Al Qaeda terrorists flew two airliners into the Twin Towers, and the war began. As Angela Merkel was about to announce her candidature for the chancellorship in 2005, Bush was elected for a second term and insurgents were murdering people in Afghanistan and, particularly, in Iraq. The world was outraged by the Abu Ghraib torture scandal and the CIA's rendition flights. The POW camp in Guantánamo didn't conform to any standards based on the rule of law. The neoconservatives had lost their relevance, and America now seemed very foreign to most Germans. The Schröder administration had the worst relationship with Washington that was possible to imagine.

  In her 2005 election campaign, Angela Merkel steered clear of foreign policy. Germany was discussing Schröder's “Agenda 2010” and social reform. Even the Red-Green coalition government had little appetite for including foreign policy in the election campaign – the decision to send German troops to Afghanistan had cost the coalition much energy and the loss of public confidence. Four years had passed since then, but no one wanted to revisit the war in any detail. Merkel herself avoided the subject of Iraq, and didn't make the usual visit to Washington as an electoral candidate. Images of solidarity are supposed to convey a sense of reliability and continuity in foreign policy. But this time it seemed that she could dispense with such a trip. Wolfgang Schäuble, the parliamentary party's grand seigneur on foreign-policy matters, went instead.

  In November 2005, Angela Merkel finally became Chancellor. Her certificate of appointment still lay beside her desk in a rolledup scroll, and the nation was surprised by the ease with which the new Chancellor handled foreign policy. In dealing with George W. Bush in particular, Merkel showed the skill of a judo black belt, using her opponent's weight to her advantage. In the case of the USA itself, the target of her attacks was Guantánamo. A few days before she flew to Washington, Merkel gave an interview to Der Spiegel. One sentence was enough to distance herself from Bush, establishing her reputation as a critical thinker. “An institution like Guantánamo cannot and must not continue in the long term,” said Merkel. “Other ways and means of dealing with the prisoners must be found.” That was all she said, but suddenly there was a chorus of agreement.

  The delight over this act of daring was overwhelming. As if suddenly set free, the European Union joined in the criticism. Merkel had got the tone exactly right: a hard line on the war on terror, while rejecting the Bush administration's methods. There was only one drawback: criticism of Guantánamo had little credibility so long as the German government allowed German citizens to suffer under this unjust system. So Thomas de Maizière, Minister in the Chancellery, swiftly arranged for the German-Turkish Murat Kurnaz to be handed over. Kurnaz, who had been in the prison camp since 2002, and who had been subjected to two boards of inquiry and countless legal proceedings, returned to Germany after four and a half years in US custody.

  By criticizing Bush, Merkel had given herself room to manoeuvre. The President, and especially his foreign-policy team, headed by Condoleezza Rice and security adviser Stephen Hadley, were very interested in re-establishing a good relationship with Germany. Washington was beginning to feel its isolation. Merkel offered the chance of a new start: in return, the White House had to accept her criticism of Guantánamo. Not only that, Merkel had a fascinating life story. Bush particularly liked the idea of freedom being championed by a woman from Eastern Europe – it fitted in with his personal agenda to be seen as an agent of freedom and democracy in the Arab world, however improbable that might seem. And finally, it was enough for Merkel not to be Schröder.

  Her predecessor had veered off course with his foreign policy. Schröder had been too close to France, showed little interest in the European Union, insisted that Turkey
should become a member, cultivated a pally relationship with Vladimir Putin – and had thus backed himself so far into a corner that he had nowhere left to go. Merkel was seen as representing a new departure from this. She could even impose conditions or express criticism – and, almost without effort, completely new options in foreign policy opened up. The SPD wanted to leave Gerhard Schröder behind and followed her in this – the Grand Coalition was hungry for success. “Emancipation without defiance clearly makes you free,” wrote Die Zeit, mocking what it called Schröder's “strained silence” on the subject of the new direction in foreign affairs. Merkel had seized the moment – proving that her instincts were correct.

  It was also very helpful that Angela Merkel and George W. Bush got on well. One needs to know Bush personally in order to be aware that behind the image of an ignorant, warmongering and deeply religious ultra-conservative there is also a private, entertaining and friendly man. Bush is essentially affable, with a stock of good stories and jokes, a man who enjoys life. Merkel's colleagues describe him as pleasant, not arrogant, a willing collaborator who never told a lie to the Chancellor.

  He shares this open, cheerful nature with Merkel who, for all the reserve she likes to display in public, can be good company. Bush obviously made it clear to her from the outset that, despite the pressures of high office there can be informal moments. Experience shows that once two heads of government have left protocol and their advisers behind a sense of friendly companionship quickly develops – after all, on those dizzying heights, they only have one another. Whatever the case, the personal chemistry between them was evident. Bush would occasionally put his arm round Merkel's shoulder – something that she doesn't accept from many people. He famously attempted to massage the back of her neck during the G8 summit in Heiligendamm: she fended him off coquettishly, pretending to be shocked.

  Even when they were at loggerheads at a critical stage in foreign affairs – Ukraine and Georgia's request to join NATO – Bush brushed any differences of opinion aside with professional aplomb. During the 2008 NATO summit in Ceaușescu's sumptuous former palace in Bucharest, Merkel had been Bush's main opponent. Before he left office, the President wanted to give Georgia and Ukraine, as aspiring members of NATO, the prospect of full membership, the so-called Membership Action Plan, a preliminary stage to acceptance into the organization. Merkel objected. Although the Chancellor always let her reservations be known during preparatory meetings, Bush didn't think she would stand by them, and included the subject in the day's agenda.

  Government delegations seldom clash in such a disorderly fashion. The wording of plans and documents is generally agreed before the beginning of any summit. The finishing touches may need to be decided, but there are not meant to be any surprises. This time, however, there was a potentially explosive difference of opinion: was NATO to reach out to two states who were in open confrontation with Russia, when neither of them could be regarded as stable? Russia's President Putin had voiced his disapproval, but Bush still wanted to see it through. Merkel stood firm, and when NATO tried to reach a unanimous agreement it was forced to adjourn. In the corridors of the conference centre, heads of government stood around looking at a loss, small groups gathered to try and come up with a final statement that would cast a veil over the fiasco. Afterwards Bush expressed his respect for Merkel – she was upright and honest, he said, that was why he thought so highly of her. And in a rare moment of gratitude, Putin told the Chancellor that he would never forget what she had done.

  Merkel and Bush twice met in circumstances that protocol described as “private”. Merkel took the first step in 2006, when she invited him to her constituency. At a meeting in Washington, Bush had shown great interest in her GDR past. So the Chancellor invited him to Trinwillershagen, a municipality of about seven hundred people, on which the international political circus descended like a horde of locusts. A barbecue meal in the country, as rustic as possible (wild boar, venison and duck – the symbols of normality, of living close to nature), prepared by Olaf Micheel, the landlord of the village inn. Around thirty personal guests gathered, not far from the old “Red Banner” sign of the collective farm from GDR times, to have a taste of Arcadia in Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania.

  Because of his passion for working the land and his love of his ranch, Bush has been nicknamed Shrub. He always said that he was happiest on his property, clearing the undergrowth with a chainsaw. So it made sense for the President to invite the Chancellor to his private ranch in Texas. It was a singular honour that Bush bestowed on seventeen foreign dignitaries: two kings, one prince and various presidents, premiers and chancellors. Such gestures are out of character for Merkel. Her private apartment opposite the Pergamon Museum on Museum Island in Berlin is out of bounds to visitors – a place of absolute privacy. So is her weekend cottage in the Uckermark: not even her closest colleagues have been inside it. Nicolas Sarkozy may have invited her to the Paris townhouse belonging to him and his wife, Carla Bruni; Gordon Brown to the British Prime Minister's weekend retreat at Chequers; Wen Jiabao into the heart of the governmental district – but to Merkel, private means private.

  So in November 2007 she set off for Texas with certain reservations. For all her natural friendliness, Merkel likes to control whom she meets, and an invitation to the Presidential ranch was a very private occasion. Nonetheless, hardly any other foreign trip still makes so many eyes light up and evokes so many happy memories among the Chancellor's immediate circle. Bush loves his ranch, a complex of several buildings, with a swimming pool, a pond, a garage and a helicopter hangar on six square kilometres of prairie. The property once belonged to a German emigrant called Heinrich Engelbrecht. As President, Bush was often criticized for spending too much time at his ranch, which came to be known – even officially – as the Western White House. Bush feels most at ease there. He proudly gives his visitors a guided tour, takes them off on long mountain-biking tours, or goes fishing with them. Once he said (and he may have meant it seriously) that the finest moment of his presidency was when he caught a 7½-pound widemouth bass in his fishpond.

  Merkel and her husband stayed in the main family house, while the Chancellor's chosen companions – her spokesman Uli Wilhelm and her foreign-affairs adviser Christoph Heusgen – slept in the guesthouse, in bedrooms used by Bush's daughters or his parents, George H.W. and Barbara Bush, when they came to stay. Bush handled the unusual intimacy of the occasion with great warmth. Merkel was somewhat reserved and wooden in conversation – she obviously didn't want to commit herself to an unreserved show of friendship. Early in the morning the Chancellor and the President went for a brisk walk in the grounds, but she did not feel like joining the mountainbiking expedition.

  Half a year later Bush finally came to Germany for a farewell visit, staying at Schloss Meseberg, just outside the Berlin city gates – a small, almost private gesture, out of the public eye. The next US President was already on his way. Merkel, and particularly her advisers, were convinced that relations with the United States had never been better, and professional contacts between the German and American staff closer, than during the Bush presidency.

  Senator Barack Obama, the rising star in the political firmament of the USA, had a problem: he couldn't lay claim to much expertise in foreign policy. For four years he had been chairman of the Senate's subcommittee on European Affairs, but in that time he had come to London only once – stopping off on his way from the Middle East to Washington – and no occasion had ever brought him to Berlin. Now, however, he wanted to make up for his lack of experience and, in preparation for his election campaign he planned an extended trip that would take him to the trouble spots of Afghanistan and Iraq, as well as to Europe: to the Brandenburg Gate, formerly the border between East and West, the monument that symbolized the Cold War and the United States’ victory over the Soviet Union.

  Obama had already played many character roles in his election campaign: Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King, John F. Kennedy. Now he clearly
wanted to borrow Ronald Reagan's iconic status and show himself to be truly international. Although his campaign team never officially confirmed that the candidate would have liked to speak at the Brandenburg Gate, his possible appearance in front of Germany's best-known national symbol had people talking for days and divided the coalition, as has been mentioned previously. In the end, Obama backed down and made his speech at the Victory Column – but the episode gave Merkel a foretaste of what she might expect from the young senator if he were to be elected.

  As we have already seen, Merkel doesn't like men who make a lot of noise, and despises the exaggerated masculinity of Vladimir Putin, someone who likes to show off his muscles and hunting prowess. And she does not care at all for the machismo of Silvio Berlusconi. She was speechless when the Italian premier left her standing on the red carpet at the NATO summit in Baden-Baden after driving up, only to finish his phone call walking up and down on the bank of the Rhine. Nor did Merkel care for the skittish vanity of Nicolas Sarkozy. Whenever a new example of this selfimportant type of character appears on her radar, she tells her staff: let's wait and see what he can actually do.

  She was similarly sceptical, at first, about Barack Obama, whose talent for rhetoric she observed with reservations. Perhaps she also felt a certain envy. Merkel has never been a gifted orator. Her words convey trustworthiness and level-headedness – but she can never really cast a spell over an audience. Today people like to say that the Brandenburg Gate episode spoilt the relationship between Merkel and Obama, and neither of them has really recovered from it. By way of proof, they point out that Obama didn't come to Berlin during his first term of office.