Until the fatal bombing of two tanker trucks near the German base in Kunduz in September 2009, Merkel had mostly left Afghanistan to those ministers who were experts in the field. By taking this approach, the Chancellor was in good company both nationally and internationally. In 2003, American troops had marched into Baghdad and driven out Saddam Hussein, and as early as 2004 the number of violent incidents in both theatres of war – Iraq and Afghanistan – was rising. By the time of the 2005 elections, it was clear that the Taliban had reorganized in Pakistan and Afghanistan, and that the pressure on foreign troops was increasing. In Germany, however, neither the outgoing nor the incoming government wanted to admit that what had been described as a mission of reconstruction and stabilization was actually a war about the new world order: a military confrontation between insurgents and conventional forces. Afghanistan was a war to be ignored, a war that mustn't be talked about, just forgotten in the shadow of Iraq.
It was the American general David Petraeus who restructured the US forces in Afghanistan at this point, introducing great changes to the army's operational procedures and tactics while the conflict was still going on. But the United States’ efforts to ensure that the risks were shared more equitably within NATO had no effect on Germany. The Schröder government and the first Merkel government agreed that German troops were doing fine where they were, in the relatively secure north. While the British, Canadian, Dutch and American forces suffered heavy losses in the south of Afghanistan, particularly in the provinces of Helmand and Kandahar, the Germans ignored the fact that the war was escalating.
When NATO called for an increase in troops on the ground early in 2007, Germany resorted to a ruse. Tornado reconnaissance planes were sent to take photographs of positions, enemy troops or suspect vehicles by using high-resolution cameras mounted in the fuselage. However, Tornadoes require a great deal of manpower. They need maintenance, repair and a ground crew – so suddenly the German army had 500 more soldiers on deployment, and could claim to have met its international obligations. The German rules of engagement were also more concerned about the threat posed by domestic politics than reducing the dangers faced by troops on the ground. Soldiers weren't allowed to use preventive measures, and only returned fire if the enemy engaged first. Nor could the Tornadoes attack from the air using the weaponry they carried. It needed the hapless Colonel Klein to order an air strike on tanker trucks that had got stuck in a river bed before the real nature of the operation was understood back home in Germany – there was a war on.
The semantic equivocation about the word “war” was justified on the one hand by long-established agreements under international law, and on the other by concern for domestic politics. From a legal point of view, any operation under the rules of war is subject to international law: war must be formally declared and then concluded by a peace treaty. Anyone waging war must have an opponent, and must treat prisoners according to the Geneva Convention. But no one wanted to recognize the Taliban as the enemy in a war which would have enhanced its status and given it legitimacy under international law.
The word “war” also caused unforeseen problems for every soldier who took part in the operation. For instance, life insurance doesn't cover death in the course of wartime operations. Insurance cover and care of the wounded, as well as the bereaved families of the dead, have kept experts busy for years. Eventually it was the up-and-coming Defence Minister Karl-Theodor zu Guttenberg who broke the taboo, first speaking of “warlike circumstances” and then suggesting that “in colloquial terms” it could be called a war. It was a few months before Angela Merkel, during her third visit to Afghanistan on 17th December 2010, would also admit to soldiers: “You are engaged in combat of the kind found in war.”
Politicians, and in particular Merkel's first Defence Minister, Franz Josef Jung, were not just worried about legal ambiguities. More than anything else they were concerned with public opinion, which didn't appreciate the finely calculated security policy that underpinned the operation. The last SPD Defence Minister, Peter Struck, was greeted with laughter when he pronounced the phrase: “The security of Germany is also being defended in the Hindu Kush.” Although defence experts agreed with Struck's analysis, the deep-rooted pacifism of modern Germany and the lack of any culture of strategic discussion clashed once again with sober Realpolitik and the constraints of international alliances. At first Merkel did little to resolve the conflict. Like every other member of the coalition government, she no doubt realized that political careers could be decided by this operation. And in any case, as there was no public consensus on what the German army was doing, it was unlikely to win many votes.
For this reason, what had happened to Franz Josef Jung acted as a warning. After the Kunduz bombing on 4th September 2009, Afghanistan was suddenly at the centre of German domestic politics. Everyone now realized the true nature of the operation. The debate about stability and helping the local people to look after themselves was over. Germany was discussing a war – just a few days before the general election. Immediately after the bombing, Merkel took the lead and delivered a formal statement in the Bundestag – her first on the subject of Afghanistan. She uttered one memorable phrase after another. “The presence of the army in Afghanistan, together with that of our partners in the North Atlantic alliance, is necessary. It contributes to international security, world peace and the protection of life here in Germany from the evil of international terrorism.” And: “Germany is pledged to the service of world peace; it says so in the preamble to our Constitution. In this world, Germany has strong alliances and partnerships; Germany's special needs are not an alternative to German foreign policy.” And she reminded her audience – as if issuing a warning to any doubters in the Bundestag – of its responsibility: “This military operation was and remains of vital importance to the safety of this country. It is based on the resolutions of the Security Council of the United Nations. Since the beginning of 2002, it has been the responsibility of every federal government to send troops.”
Due to the inner workings of the Grand Coalition, the full weight of the confrontation was felt only after the election at the beginning of October. Until the votes were cast, the CDU and the SPD found themselves jointly responsible for the military operation. Only with the bombing in Kunduz did Merkel realize that she must make more of an effort and become personally involved. The increasing number of conferences on Afghanistan – London in 2010, Bonn in 2011 – and the importance the subject was accorded at NATO summit meetings made it clear that the Chancellor now meant to lead the movement for withdrawal, in order to extract Germany from the operation with as little damage as possible. In her official statement on the day after Kunduz, she held out hope of such a withdrawal.
Since her first visit in 2007, Merkel has not been back to Kabul, but has been to northern Afghanistan three times. Her second trip was a few months before the bombing of the tanker trucks, and took her to the town of Mazar-i-Safif, where she met Governor Atta Muhammad Nur and some local dignitaries. Nur organized a lavish reception for the Chancellor; he sat enthroned on a gilded chair decorated with Medusa heads. In the middle of the room a table groaned under the weight of pastries and sweetmeats. The governor's court sat in a circle. Several specially selected Afghan women talked about the progress being made in women's rights, and Nur graciously called on his people to speak.
When a loud bang was heard outside, the regional security chief assured everyone that it was probably just a burst tyre. However, the German security staff felt uneasy. When she went outside, Merkel was delighted at the building work that was going on around the governor's residence, and at all the workmen on the scaffolding. She hadn't been told that these “workmen” were actually German Army snipers. Her bodyguards urged her to go back to the comparative security of the base camp – the explosion in the street had alarmed everyone. But Merkel wasn't going to show signs of weakness. She sent most of the delegation back to the camp, while she was driven to her next official
engagement and visited a hospital, although she didn't stay long.
Visits by a German Chancellor are always theatrical productions, and in Afghanistan they are particularly stage-managed. Delighted as she was to hear the soldiers expressing their honest opinions at a barbecue that evening, this fact couldn't have been entirely lost on Merkel – even if the only thing the men wanted urgently was a new flag. The visit essentially served to recognize the troops’ achievements, to flatter them – and help safeguard her political position. If the Chancellor didn't lead from the front she made herself vulnerable to attack and would be accused of lacking interest. But if she became too closely involved she might ultimately be held responsible for the transporter trucks not having the right sort of armour.
Nowhere can the dilemma that confronts the head of government be better illustrated than in the microcosm of a German army base far from home. On one hand, she can't avoid being part of the whole show – for instance, when a representative of the German Investment and Development Corporation tells her about the “Womens’ Peace Caravan” project in the city of Kunduz. On the other, she is also representing a major political security operation that has to be coordinated on many different levels: with those who exercise power in Afghanistan (the government, the tribes, the local rulers); with the inner workings of military alliances that operate according to concepts such as solidarity and mutual support; and finally with the expectation of voters at home who don't really understand this distant war and don't want to hear bad news.
Yet the bad news came thick and fast in the spring of 2010, when seven German soldiers were killed in action within the space of a few weeks. Three men from Schleswig-Holstein died on Good Friday: their unit had been involved in a skirmish near Kunduz. Merkel was told as she was flying off for her Easter break. She cut short her holiday and went to the funeral in the town of Selsingen, where she talked to the victims’ relatives – a moving experience. The families wanted to hear one thing above all from the Chancellor: that their sons’ deaths had not been in vain, that the soldiers’ mission was of importance to the country. Many family members also wrote to her after the funeral. One case affected her personally: Jörg Ringel, a police officer who for many years was a member of her close-protection team, was killed on a trip to Kabul. Merkel is still in touch with his family.
The day after the funeral in Selsingen she made a point of visiting the Bundeswehr Operational Command in Potsdam, from where the German forces in Afghanistan were controlled. General Rainer Glatz and his officers described the combat in detail, telling her about the large quantities of ammunition used. Soldiers from Afghanistan had their own say in a video conference, and demanded more moral support from Germany. Merkel was visibly moved by their accounts, and asked a simple question: how many Taliban had been shot in those ten hours? Embarrassed, the generals looked at the floor. No one knew the answer.
A week later, just after Merkel arrived in San Francisco on the last stage of a visit to the USA, her personal private secretary Beate Baumann was woken in the middle of the night by a call from Berlin: more fighting, more dead, this time four men had lost their lives. Merkel always takes black clothes with her on foreign trips so that she can be suitably dressed on such occasions, and the Federal press office always brings a folding blue screen to provide a neutral background for the cameras when she is giving interviews and making statements. Merkel gave a press conference early that morning, and set off for home in the evening.
On 22nd April 2010 she made what was probably her most forceful statement on Afghanistan, publicly acknowledging the troops and their mission. She spoke of their bravery, the fighting, the war, the alleged cowardice of politicians. “We cannot ask our soldiers to be brave if we ourselves lack the courage to stand up for our decisions,” she warned MPs. Never before had Merkel spoken about the business of war with such feeling. She did so using the words of Staff Sergeant Daniel Seibert, who had been involved in a skirmish nine months earlier and was asked by an interviewer whether he had killed anyone. His reply, quoted by Merkel in the Bundestag, was this: “Yes, I shot my opponent. It was either him or me.”
This, the primitive aspect of war, is not something that seems alien to Merkel. She can identify with the idea of a duel. The Chancellor has reflected deeply on the act of killing as a last resort. She gave people an insight into her views on the morning of 2nd May 2011, when the news of Osama bin Laden's death was the focus of the world's attention. Merkel appeared in front of the cameras, made a statement, then answered three questions. One of them was this: “Chancellor, the successful operation that you describe was obviously a deliberate killing – there's plenty of evidence of that. Should German security forces be in a position to act in such a way against terrorists?” Merkel replied, “I am here today, first and foremost, to say that I am glad to hear that the plan to kill bin Laden succeeded… As a result I have sent a message to the American President expressing my respect for this successful operation; it was something I felt a need to do.” She could not have conveyed her need to do so more clearly.
War and peace, the basis of present-day Germany's reservations about all that is military, the high expectations of the Federal Republic's partners in the alliance, the difficulty of getting a clear overview of the modern world, the speed with which moral indignation flares up over injustice, violence and tyranny – perhaps it was only logical that Merkel's foreign-policy decision that had the most serious consequences so far had to do with these difficult issues. It was 17th March 2011, a Thursday, and her closest colleagues had gathered in Beate Baumann's office to drink a toast to Merkel's foreign-policy adviser, Christoph Heusgen, on his birthday. But no one felt like celebrating. Baumann's office is not luxuriously furnished. Its only decoration is a geopolitical map of the world hanging on the wall and looking a little lost. That political world had taken another surprising turn.
The night before there had been a sudden change of mood at the United Nations in New York. The French President had got his way in the UN Security Council. A no-fly zone was to be declared over Libya, there would be war. The German government had to decide on a course of action. The Security Council was due to vote that evening, and as a non-permanent member Germany would have to take part in that vote. Did the Federal Government agree with a no-fly zone? And was it prepared to send German soldiers to get involved in a civil war in Libya?
March 2011 turned out to be a terrible month for Merkel. Everywhere, events seemed to be accelerating, one crisis came after another. In February the chairman of the Bundesbank, Axel Weber, had announced that he was retiring – he obviously distrusted the European Central Bank over the Eurozone crisis, although he never fully explained his reasons. On 1st March the country held its breath when Defence Minister Karl-Theodor zu Guttenberg accepted the consequences of a plagiarism scandal and announced his retirement from politics. At the end of February the Hamburg elections provided a foretaste of the problems the CDU, and particularly the FDP, were likely to face at the polls. The next regional elections – which included the CDU strongholds of Hesse and Baden-Württemberg – were on 20th and 27th March. There was also growing dissatisfaction with Merkel's coalition partner, Guido Westerwelle, leader of the FDP and Foreign Minister.
Then, further blows came in swift succession: at 14.47 on 11th March there was the Japanese tsunami, followed by the Fukushima nuclear disaster. During a summit in Brussels, Merkel watched the spectacular hydrogen explosions on her iPad. As a believer in the power of images, she knew that this was another moment of reckoning: this tragedy turned everything upside down. “Until recently,” she said in an interview, “I thought the dangers were beyond anything I was likely to see in my lifetime.” Three days after the catastrophe she cancelled the extension of operational life for German nuclear plants and spectacularly reversed her energy policy – an act of defiance in the eyes of the industry and the coalition government.
Meanwhile the crisis in Libya was escalating. Since mid-February, the rebel
forces had been taking over more and more of the country. At the beginning of March the regime began a counter-offensive, gradually winning back some of the territory. The city of Misrata and the suburbs of the rebel stronghold of Benghazi in eastern Libya were soon being shelled by government troops. Gaddafi announced that he would fight “from house to house” and that “no mercy would be shown”.
The French President had been canvassing support for a Western intervention in Libya for a long time. Nicolas Sarkozy was under pressure: he had cut a poor figure in the first weeks of the Arab Spring. His proximity to the former Tunisian ruler was a problem. He had received Gaddafi in Paris. The eccentric potentate had come to France with his whole court, camping opposite the Élysée Palace in a Bedouin tent with his private Amazonian Guard. At the time, Sarkozy assured his countrymen that the dictator was a guarantee of stability and prosperous economic relations. Libyan oil was tempting too. Now his favourite Mediterranean neighbour was butchering his own people.
Merkel was unenthusiastic about Sarkozy's eagerness to intervene in Libya, seeing it as a diversion. This was the most important reason for her abstaining to vote on it. She didn't want to be drawn into a war that, in her opinion, the Frenchman only wanted for reasons of domestic politics. Sarkozy was attempting to rewrite history – that was her damning verdict. Unlike him, she had always avoided Gaddafi, and had never met him except on the margins of large international gatherings. She also viewed the rebel movement in Libya and the rest of the Arab world with scepticism. She rejected any comparison with the Eastern European freedom movement in 1989 – although Guido Westerwelle had made use of the parallel. She thought that the political currents in these countries gave no clear indication of their likely future character as states.
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