Last Tuesday, Friedrich Merz looked fatally wounded before his time in office had even properly begun.
The new German chancellor was to be formally confirmed in the Bundestag. However, despite his CDU/CSU-SPD coalition commanding a theoretical majority, with 328 seats, Merz failed to secure the required 316 votes on the first ballot.
At least 18 of his own coalition MPs had withheld their support in the secret vote. It required a hastily convened second ballot, which Merz won (though still missing the confidence of three of his coalition MPs).
It was a historic humiliation. No chancellor-designate with a parliamentary majority had ever been rejected in the first round.
Conventional wisdom would have suggested that the next chapter for Merz involved weeks of introspection, internal negotiations and coalition repair work. Indeed, most new leaders in such a position would retreat to the Chancellery, summon rebellious parliamentarians for stern conversations and try to save their chancellorship.
Merz, however, did the opposite. He embarked on a diplomatic whirlwind tour that left observers breathless.
Less than 24 hours after securing the chancellorship in the second round, he was in Paris, engaged in substantive talks with Emmanuel Macron.
Gone was the chilly atmosphere that had characterised Franco-German relations under Merz’s predecessor, Olaf Scholz. In its place was a warmth evident both in policy ambition and personal rapport. Macron even referred to “cher Friedrich” as they announced accelerated defence cooperation and regular security councils.
Later the same day, Merz travelled to Warsaw for discussions with Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk. Their meeting navigated the fraught terrain of migration policy, historical grievances, and security cooperation with surprising adroitness.
On day three of Merz’s time in office, he had a half-hour phone call with Donald Trump, where Merz proposed “zero tariffs” for transatlantic trade and discussed how to proceed with the Ukraine war. These bold initiatives were a stark departure from the adversarial relationship both Merkel and Scholz had with Trump. Later, Merz even expressed surprise, commenting on numerous points of agreement he found with Trump.
By day four, Merz was in Kyiv alongside Macron, Tusk and British Prime Minister Starmer. The timing was impeccable – coinciding with Putin’s Victory Day commemorations in Moscow. The four leaders even conducted a joint phone call with President Trump from Kyiv to secure American backing for their diplomatic initiative.
The centrepiece of their visit was the announcement of a proposed 30-day unconditional ceasefire covering land, sea and air operations, to begin May 12. Importantly, this was not mere diplomatic theatre – the leaders attached consequences, warning that if Russia refused to engage, they would “ratchet up pressure on Russia’s war machine” with “massive” new sanctions coordinated between Europe and the United States.
Perhaps most surprising was Merz’s announcement of a significant shift in German policy. Under his leadership, Germany would end public disclosures of its military aid to Ukraine, implementing what he called “strategic ambiguity.” As he put it, “The debate about arms deliveries, calibre, weapons systems and so on will be taken out of the public eye” – a clear break from Germany’s previous transparency practices.
What are we to make of Merz’s extraordinary diplomatic efforts?
It represents a fundamental departure from the traditional playbook of new German chancellors. Despite eventually achieving international stature, Angela Merkel spent her early time in office carefully managing her coalition. Olaf Scholz remained focused on Germany’s pandemic response and internal social policy before Russia’s invasion forced his hand.
Merz, by contrast, has seemingly decided that the best defence is a good offence. Unable to secure immediate loyalty (and popularity) at home, he has sought to build authority abroad.
Merz is helped by a constellation no chancellor has had in decades: his CDU party controls both the Chancellery and the Foreign Office. Usually, these offices are split between coalition partners. That means there is often tension where there should be a coherent foreign policy. Merz, by contrast, does not have to worry about what his foreign minister might think. They are on the same page.
Another factor at play, which may explain Merz’s different approach to foreign policy, is that he is unusually international for a German political leader. He spent a decade as chair of BlackRock Germany, a branch of the world’s largest asset management firm. He also chaired Atlantik-Brücke, a prestigious network fostering German-American relations. Both gave him global connections that most German politicians only acquire in office.
There is also a strategic explanation for Merz’s seeking the world stage. With approval ratings at a dismal 32% and a significant contingent of his own parliamentarians in open rebellion, substantial domestic reforms are going to be tough. Foreign policy gives Merz a chance to shine.
This is not the first time a German leader has attempted to compensate for domestic weakness with foreign policy activism. Helmut Schmidt, facing a fractious SPD in the late 1970s, threw himself into East-West diplomacy. Gerhard Schröder, with his popularity plummeting amid economic decline, found renewed purpose in opposing US President George W. Bush on the Iraq War.
Still, Merz’s case is different. Europe’s challenges are more severe than at any time since the end of World War 2. America’s commitment to Europe is in doubt. The international rules-based order – the foundation of German prosperity for seven decades – is severely weakened.
In this situation, any German chancellor, no matter their inclinations, would find themselves immersed in foreign affairs more than any of their predecessors. But in Merz, Germany now has a chancellor who relishes this role.
In less than a week, Merz has already rewritten the initial chapter of his chancellorship. From parliamentary humiliation to diplomatic dynamism – it is quite the political narrative shift.
For a continent desperately in need of leadership, Merz’s rapid reinvention from wounded chancellor to strategic actor may be exactly what Europe needs.
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