Jacinda Ardern was one such politician. She was celebrated in newspapers like The Guardian and The New York Times as some modern-day superstar. In reality, she was a mediocre Prime Minister.
But at least Ardern was a gifted communicator. Angela Merkel, on the other hand, not only lacked political substance but often also the ability to convey her messages. Her speeches were notorious for their convoluted sentences and uninspired delivery.
Now, Merkel’s memoir has revealed she is not much of a writer either. She is unlikely to follow Winston Churchill in winning a Nobel Prize for Literature.
Modestly titled Freedom and running to more than 700 pages, Merkel’s book perfectly captures the essence of her chancellorship: simultaneously self-important and oddly empty.
Consider how she describes first entering the Chancellor’s office: She notes the cherry wood bookcases, the flowers arranged by the chancellery gardeners, and concludes she “would never again have such a beautiful workplace.”
Or take her account of a visit to Moscow in 2010. She meticulously records having had Beef Stroganoff for dinner while looking at the illuminated Kremlin.
Such trivial matters pervade the memoir. What we witness might be called the banality of power: the reduction of historical moments to administrative procedures, the substitution of management for leadership.
In Merkel’s prose, history dissolves into administrative minutiae. Her memoir dwells on details like the four-faced clock in the cabinet room.
In recounting her first major European tour as Chancellor, she obsessively lists flight departure and arrival times down to the minute. It reads like a travel schedule rather than the record of a legacy.
Her account of the 2015 migration crisis – precipitating what was perhaps her most consequential decision – is particularly revealing. Instead of addressing the strategic implications of admitting more than a million migrants, she focuses on the logistics of emergency accommodation. There is no reflection on the long-term costs to society, the social tensions created or the boost it gave to far-right populism.
At the Berlin launch of her book, Merkel’s aversion to reflection was on full display. When asked about Germany’s current problems, from failing railways to military weakness, she responded dismissively: “If it helps, people can say: Merkel was responsible.”
More troublingly, she continues to defend her disastrous Russia policy. Never mind that she also claims to have recognised Putin’s imperial ambitions early, only to continue sourcing gas from Russia. It was a cheap source of energy, after all.
This kind of tactical obtuseness characterised her entire chancellorship. Take nuclear power. After Fukushima, she abruptly abandoned her support for nuclear – not based on any strategic assessment but because polls showed public anxiety.
The results have been catastrophic. German industry now faces some of the highest electricity costs in Europe. BASF is scaling back its German operations. BMW is shifting production eastward. ThyssenKrupp struggles to remain competitive. A country that prided itself on being an industrial powerhouse is watching its manufacturing base erode. And still Merkel insists her energy policies were correct.
She also leaves behind a fractured – and fractious – political landscape. Her Christian Democratic Union, once Germany’s natural party of government, is a shadow of its former self. By moving it leftward on every major issue – from nuclear power to migration – she created space for the rise of the Alternative for Germany, now a significant and destabilising force in German politics.
Merkel was always good at explaining why things could not be done. But she never articulated what should be done. This became particularly dangerous after 2008 when the world entered what historian Andreas Rödder calls “disruptive times.” While others warned about Russia’s aggressive turn, Merkel’s Germany pursued its “modernisation partnership” with Moscow.
The cost of the leadership vacuum that emanated from Merkel’s Chancellorship is now painfully evident. Germany’s military barely functions. Its relations with its Eastern European neighbours are strained. Yet, in Merkel’s telling, she was merely responding to circumstances rather than shaping them.
The late Peter Struck, for a while chair of her social democratic coalition partner in Parliament, once wryly observed that Merkel was like an airline pilot: passengers could trust her completely. That is, as long as they did not care where they landed.
Unfortunately, Germany has now crash-landed. Its industry is in decline. Its military is understaffed and underequipped. Its politics are in crisis.
Merkel’s memoir reveals one final truth about her chancellorship: a complete absence of any guiding principles beyond power maintenance. Konrad Adenauer stood for Western integration, Willy Brandt for Eastern reconciliation and Helmut Kohl for reunification. What of Merkel? She was simply there, for 16 long years.
Her memoir confirms this verdict. Between the lines spanning its hundreds of stultifying pages lies an object lesson in the tragedy of modern democratic politics: The pursuit of office without a guiding vision inevitably results in governance without leadership. In Merkel’s case, it has resulted in the destabilisation of her country.
When Merkel was hailed as the leader of the free world, it said more about the state of the West than about her leadership qualities. But, to return to my opening comment, political leaders often enjoy greater esteem internationally than they deserve.
German taxpayers will be paying for Merkel’s mistakes for generations. Meanwhile, her publisher has reportedly paid €12 million ($20 million) for these memoirs.
At €42 ($70) per copy, they are expensive. But as one German reviewer noted, they make excellent bookends. They are certainly thick enough.
Dr Oliver Hartwich is the Executive Director of The New Zealand Initiative think tank. This article was first published HERE.
Now, Merkel’s memoir has revealed she is not much of a writer either. She is unlikely to follow Winston Churchill in winning a Nobel Prize for Literature.
Modestly titled Freedom and running to more than 700 pages, Merkel’s book perfectly captures the essence of her chancellorship: simultaneously self-important and oddly empty.
Consider how she describes first entering the Chancellor’s office: She notes the cherry wood bookcases, the flowers arranged by the chancellery gardeners, and concludes she “would never again have such a beautiful workplace.”
Or take her account of a visit to Moscow in 2010. She meticulously records having had Beef Stroganoff for dinner while looking at the illuminated Kremlin.
Such trivial matters pervade the memoir. What we witness might be called the banality of power: the reduction of historical moments to administrative procedures, the substitution of management for leadership.
In Merkel’s prose, history dissolves into administrative minutiae. Her memoir dwells on details like the four-faced clock in the cabinet room.
In recounting her first major European tour as Chancellor, she obsessively lists flight departure and arrival times down to the minute. It reads like a travel schedule rather than the record of a legacy.
Her account of the 2015 migration crisis – precipitating what was perhaps her most consequential decision – is particularly revealing. Instead of addressing the strategic implications of admitting more than a million migrants, she focuses on the logistics of emergency accommodation. There is no reflection on the long-term costs to society, the social tensions created or the boost it gave to far-right populism.
At the Berlin launch of her book, Merkel’s aversion to reflection was on full display. When asked about Germany’s current problems, from failing railways to military weakness, she responded dismissively: “If it helps, people can say: Merkel was responsible.”
More troublingly, she continues to defend her disastrous Russia policy. Never mind that she also claims to have recognised Putin’s imperial ambitions early, only to continue sourcing gas from Russia. It was a cheap source of energy, after all.
This kind of tactical obtuseness characterised her entire chancellorship. Take nuclear power. After Fukushima, she abruptly abandoned her support for nuclear – not based on any strategic assessment but because polls showed public anxiety.
The results have been catastrophic. German industry now faces some of the highest electricity costs in Europe. BASF is scaling back its German operations. BMW is shifting production eastward. ThyssenKrupp struggles to remain competitive. A country that prided itself on being an industrial powerhouse is watching its manufacturing base erode. And still Merkel insists her energy policies were correct.
She also leaves behind a fractured – and fractious – political landscape. Her Christian Democratic Union, once Germany’s natural party of government, is a shadow of its former self. By moving it leftward on every major issue – from nuclear power to migration – she created space for the rise of the Alternative for Germany, now a significant and destabilising force in German politics.
Merkel was always good at explaining why things could not be done. But she never articulated what should be done. This became particularly dangerous after 2008 when the world entered what historian Andreas Rödder calls “disruptive times.” While others warned about Russia’s aggressive turn, Merkel’s Germany pursued its “modernisation partnership” with Moscow.
The cost of the leadership vacuum that emanated from Merkel’s Chancellorship is now painfully evident. Germany’s military barely functions. Its relations with its Eastern European neighbours are strained. Yet, in Merkel’s telling, she was merely responding to circumstances rather than shaping them.
The late Peter Struck, for a while chair of her social democratic coalition partner in Parliament, once wryly observed that Merkel was like an airline pilot: passengers could trust her completely. That is, as long as they did not care where they landed.
Unfortunately, Germany has now crash-landed. Its industry is in decline. Its military is understaffed and underequipped. Its politics are in crisis.
Merkel’s memoir reveals one final truth about her chancellorship: a complete absence of any guiding principles beyond power maintenance. Konrad Adenauer stood for Western integration, Willy Brandt for Eastern reconciliation and Helmut Kohl for reunification. What of Merkel? She was simply there, for 16 long years.
Her memoir confirms this verdict. Between the lines spanning its hundreds of stultifying pages lies an object lesson in the tragedy of modern democratic politics: The pursuit of office without a guiding vision inevitably results in governance without leadership. In Merkel’s case, it has resulted in the destabilisation of her country.
When Merkel was hailed as the leader of the free world, it said more about the state of the West than about her leadership qualities. But, to return to my opening comment, political leaders often enjoy greater esteem internationally than they deserve.
German taxpayers will be paying for Merkel’s mistakes for generations. Meanwhile, her publisher has reportedly paid €12 million ($20 million) for these memoirs.
At €42 ($70) per copy, they are expensive. But as one German reviewer noted, they make excellent bookends. They are certainly thick enough.
Dr Oliver Hartwich is the Executive Director of The New Zealand Initiative think tank. This article was first published HERE.
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