Yet the Chancellor had another concern about military intervention. The Iraq experience had made a profound impression on her. She had pinned her hopes on the USA's ability to direct the course of events and bring peace. So her disappointment was all the greater when resistance in Iraq increased. The United States had essentially failed, and soon had to withdraw. Merkel was worried about America's ability to achieve its goals, and feared that Washington's influence would suffer, thus weakening the West as a whole in the rivalry between different systems. Exporting democracy is no easy matter, but Merkel's experience had given her confidence in the USA's ability to bring their values and their system to other countries. She was afraid it wouldn't work in Libya. And Washington couldn't afford another Iraq – a war that had had disastrous consequences. The next intervention had to work and lead to a better situation than the one that had existed before, or the credibility of the West as a whole would be in danger.
Finally, Merkel also had a reason based on domestic politics. If Germany voted for military intervention, then in her view Germany would have to take part. She told her colleagues that it would be disingenuous to agree to an operation and then not send any troops. In the days before the vote, this was discussed over and over again. Merkel was told that the country could take part symbolically – perhaps with German crew in AWACS reconnaissance planes. Or Germany could support a sea blockade, or provide financial assistance. Merkel and the Defence Minister, Thomas de Maizière, were not keen on this half-hearted option. From her analysis of the situation, a full-scale intervention would be too much for the Bundeswehr. Operations in Afghanistan, the Balkans, off the coast of Lebanon and in Somalia were stretching the German military to the limit.
However, the government was taken by surprise on the morning of Thursday 17th March 2011, because it had believed that the American President would refuse to go to war, and neither France nor Great Britain could do so without the United States. On the Wednesday morning, de Maizière returned from his inaugural visit to Washington as Foreign Minister – bringing with him a simple message from the Pentagon: the United States did not want war either. Particularly since all the American generals were clearly against it. In the course of that Wednesday, however, the situation of the rebels in Benghazi became increasingly desperate, and in Washington the interventionist lobby around Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and UN Ambassador Susan Rice persuaded the President to change his mind. Barack Obama didn't call Merkel to let her know, which was an affront. But neither did the Chancellor call Washington. There was radio silence between their respective staffs. It wasn't until three months later that Merkel and Obama were able to have a conversation about it. On the evening before her state visit to Washington the Chancellor had dinner with the President in a small restaurant and told him, probably in fairly blunt terms, that there must never be such a breach of trust between them again.
So Merkel learnt of this change of heart indirectly, through the German Ambassador to the United Nations, Peter Wittig. Wittig, one of the most experienced German diplomats, had used Germany's non-permanent seat in the Security Council, set for a two-year period, to improve its image at the UN. On the Thursday he asked for instructions: should he vote for the no-fly zone that evening, vote against it or abstain? The advice of diplomats, including those from the Foreign Ministry and the Chancellery, was to vote in favour. A humanitarian disaster was looming – world reaction to a German abstention or a vote the other way didn't bear thinking about.
Besides, Germany could not oppose its most important allies. Adopting a different position to that of France and the USA would break two rules that to Merkel were particularly sacred: never act against the United States and never contribute to a split in Europe. If Germany were to abstain or vote against, then it would find itself on the same side as the Chinese and Russians, questionable bedfellows on the matter of human rights and domestic freedoms. Both countries rejected the interventionist policy of the West, but for a different reason: they feared that it would set a precedent. Interfering in another country's domestic affairs on humanitarian grounds – it could happen to them as well.
The decision about the German vote was made in the Chancellor's office. It involved the Chancellor, the Foreign Minister and the Defence Minister. Their civil-service advisers – Christoph Heusgen on Merkel's side, Minister of State Emily Haber for Westerwelle – had argued for a “yes” vote. Now Westerwelle, de Maizière and Merkel were on the same side. In a telephone conversation with his British counterpart, Westerwelle had made it clear that they ought to leave room for negotiations with the Arab League, and plans were made to persuade Gaddafi to leave Libya and go into exile abroad.
Westerwelle is always reluctant to support military intervention. In the early days of the coalition both parties had to argue for a long time over the continuation of the United Nations mandate in Lebanon. The Foreign Minister sees himself as having a “traditionally reserved” position regarding the military, and likes to quote the well-known foreign-policy father figure of the FDP, Hans-Dietrich Genscher: “I will be happy to give anyone in search of adventure the telephone number of the French Foreign Legion.”
After the meeting between the three Ministers, instructions were sent to New York for the German Ambassador to abstain. Merkel had weighed up her options. What worried her most was the possibility of an unsuccessful operation with unpredictable consequences. The prospect of the likely domestic consequences of a decision in favour of war was not appealing, particularly in the run-up to regional elections. The situation was clearly heading towards a major conflict with the CDU's coalition partner, the FDP, and in his role as chairman, Guido Westerwelle was already severely tarnished and pleaded particularly strongly against sending German soldiers.
Yet to its partners in the alliance, the media and even the opposition, the government appeared in a very different light: while Gaddafi's troops were storming towards Benghazi, Germany refused to vote for humanitarian intervention – aligning itself with China and Russia.
No one among the coalition leadership had expected what would come next. Reaction to the German vote was devastating. Internationally and at home, Merkel and Westerwelle were chastised: a tidal wave of anger broke over the government. At home, there was great turmoil: the Greens and elements of the SPD led the chorus of criticism. Germany was accused of lack of solidarity and isolationism. Merkel, once Schröder's greatest critic, was now repeating what he had done in 2003. There was uproar at the NATO council meeting when, after remarks made by the General Secretary, Anders Fogh Rasmussen, the German envoy stormed out. The alliance was in crisis. Germany was isolated, and felt the bitterness that came from every side. Western strategists almost tore themselves apart trying to analyse the significance and likely consequences of the abstention. Where did this government think it was going? Had Merkel and Westerwelle acted out of fear of the regional elections, in other words was it nothing but a calculated move based on domestic politics? Had Merkel even been blackmailed with the threat of a split in the coalition? With his pacifist slogans, Westerwelle had always been accused of populism. The rumour mill went into overdrive.
On the Friday, after the Bundestag had discussed the situation following an official statement by the Foreign Minister, speculation was heightened by a rumour. It was suggested that Westerwelle had wanted to vote “no”, but the Chancellor had persuaded him to content himself with abstention – a form of compromise. The Foreign Office blamed the Chancellery for the rumour, the Chancellery strenuously denied it. But the Foreign Minister was seething. He felt that Merkel had gone behind his back and made him look foolish. In his view, the Chancellor had shied away from the vote and now wanted to escape the consequences at his expense, leaving him to defend the decision in public. In the event Westerwelle did defend it – first by making a statement to the Bundestag, and then in a series of interviews and newspaper articles that only made matters worse.
It was Westerwelle's statement that set the tone for a
line of argument in which the Minister whipped himself into a frenzy of self-justification. He constantly pressed the point that Germany hadn't been alone in abstaining. Brazil and India – as well as China and Russia – were also sceptical. Westerwelle even spoke of “strategic partners”. Among Germany's allies this was met with astonishment. Was Westerwelle trying to rewrite alliance policy? Was the Foreign Minister currying favour with the emerging economies? Westerwelle proceeded to distance himself further and further by repeating at every available opportunity that military action would have been over-hasty and counterproductive. In contrast, Merkel said little. She gave only two press conferences, in which she tried to strike a conciliatory note, wishing Germany's allies success, emphasizing the solidarity of the alliance.
Libya left deep, painful scars. Even now, the rift between Westerwelle and Merkel has still not been mended. Westerwelle is at ease with himself and his decision, and unlike the Chancellor now makes his distaste for military intervention almost an article of faith. Merkel blows hot and cold. Depending on her mood, friends say, she either justifies Germany's abstention or broods on it. She paid a high price for her decision. She would prefer not to have to go through it all again. In the end, was the price too high? She would never admit as much in public, but it might have been the worst decision she has made on foreign policy during her time as Chancellor.
The Light of Zion
The Fascination of Israel
Angela Merkel's foreign policy is above all carefully controlled, measured and flexible. If it is likely to contribute to a positive outcome, then she will always leave room for compromise. But there is one exception: Israel. Merkel's relationship with Israel is a wholly emotional one. The Chancellor is rarely as passionate and single-minded than when it comes to the State of Israel and the Jews. Israel forms the basis of her foreign-policy axis – comparable in significance to the European Union and the USA. It is Merkel's deeply held conviction that Israel is part of Germany's raison d’être as a state. This has been the subject of much intense debate, and yet such discussions leave Merkel unmoved. She has developed a profound connection with Israel and the Jews. Her understanding of German history, and thus the historical context of the direction taken by her policies as Chancellor, is inextricably bound up with the Shoah, the annihilation of the Jews by Germans. Consequently, her policy towards Israel, her respect and support for the Jewish way of life and the interpretation of its history are a major priority. Merkel is unequivocal on the subject: she loves the country, and in Germany's historical involvement with Israel she sees a national duty that goes beyond anything envisaged by her predecessors.
It is not quite clear where this deeply felt proximity to Israel originated. Even those who are closest to her and have witnessed her at decisive moments in matters of foreign policy cannot really provide an answer. Merkel has established close connections with many representatives of Jewish life in Germany, and keeps in touch with the more important factions in Israeli politics. She has a particularly good relationship with the former Prime Minister of Israel, Ehud Olmert.
Her inner circle of advisers serves as a sounding board when it comes to Israel: Beate Baumann has a particular interest in the history of relationships with Israel and the significance of the Holocaust. Christoph Heusgen maintains strategic contact, especially when Merkel acts as mediator in the peace process; the former minister of state in the Chancellery, Hildegard Müller, and her successor Eckart von Klaeden, are responsible for social contact with the Jewish community. For years – at Merkel's request – Müller was chairman of the German-Israeli group of MPs, and has an excellent network of contacts in Israel. Finally, there is Shimon Stein, the Israeli Ambassador to Germany from 2001 to 2007. Merkel developed a personal friendship with him that continued after his time as ambassador – Stein has a level of access to her that only two or three other ambassadors enjoy. He has characteristics that allow such relationships to work: he is passionate and hot-headed, enjoys a debate, knows how to be discreet and likes opera – always an advantage in getting to know Merkel and especially her husband.
The reason for Merkel's strong feelings for Israel and the Jews do not lie only in her personal history. In interviews she has said that when she was at school, she and her class used to go to the former concentration camp at Ravensbrück, thirty kilometres from Templin. These visits were part of the history curriculum in schools in the GDR. Ravensbrück was originally built as a concentration camp for women; later, a camp for men and young people was added. The Nazis kept 150,000 prisoners there, using them as forced labour before sending them to death camps. It isn't known how many people died in total at Ravensbrück. Towards the end of the war, a gas chamber was built in the camp, and about 6,000 inmates were murdered there.
Merkel remembers that under the East German educational system emphasis was placed on any Communist and Social Democrat victims in the camp. According to the GDR's version of history, East Germany had played only a minor role in the persecution of the Jews. In fact the state's very legitimacy was based on distancing itself from the National Socialists. “I spent the first thirty-five years of my life in a part of Germany – the German Democratic Republic – that regarded National Socialism as solely a West German problem,” she explained in her historic speech to the Israeli Parliament. The GDR considered itself the antithesis of Fascist Germany; it based its historical image on Communist and Socialist – and perhaps also Social Democrat – resistance. To acknowledge the Holocaust would have meant sharing responsibility for it. Then the GDR would have had its own historical burden to bear.
Merkel remembers that if any of the pupils at her school ever asked what happened to the Jews at Ravensbrück, then they were told. But only if they asked. At home, however, the Kasners talked a lot about National Socialism and the murder of the Jews. So it can be assumed that Merkel's understanding of history is based on discussions with her parents and articles in the Western media. The West German President Richard von Weizsäcker's speech on 8th May 1985, which marked the fortieth anniversary of the end of the war, made a strong impression on her. Through her father's Church contacts she managed to get a copy, and took it to work with her at the Academy of Sciences, where it circulated and was discussed. “It was an impressive speech,” she said later – although not because von Weizsäcker presented the 8th of May to West Germans as the Day of Liberation. People were already familiar with that term in the GDR, where the Soviet designation of 8th May as the Day of Liberation and 9th May as the Day of Victory of the Great Fatherland had long been adopted. The main reason why Weizsäcker made such a deep impression on the East Germans was because he spoke of the history of Germany as indivisible. “We Germans are one people and one nation. We feel that we belong together, because we have lived through the same history” – these were the comments that stuck in Merkel's mind. But having the same history meant sharing responsibility for what the National Socialists had done.
The East German attitude to its history and to the state of Israel used to make Merkel furious. She was always saying that, as a scientist, she wasn't able to quote Israeli sources in her subject area; the GDR didn't recognize it as a state, and there was no official contact with the country. Yet important research papers were being produced at the Weizmann Institute near Tel Aviv. Merkel said that she wrote to scientists in the United States to try and get hold of Israeli material by a roundabout route. Yet that alone is not enough to account for her feelings for Israel. So is she attempting to overcompensate for what she felt was GDR guilt about the Jews? This could be one of the factors, although not the deciding one. Merkel didn't develop any connections with Israel as a girl, didn't have any conversations with Israelis of her own age during exchange visits, and never thought about herself or her own role in the way every post-war West German politician had in his or her youth when taking part in German-Israeli meetings. Merkel had no such experiences until she became a government minister. So we must assume that other factors played a part: r
eligion, and particularly her understanding of history.
In 1991, when Merkel had just become Minister for Women and Youth, one of her first foreign trips was to Israel. The story of her arrival has often been repeated with much satisfaction. Merkel flew to Tel Aviv with the Minister for Research, Heinz Riesenhuber. Riesenhuber was a heavyweight in Helmut Kohl's Cabinet, and was given an adequately warm reception by his Israeli counterpart and the media – while the young minister from the East suddenly found herself shunted into the background. The German ambassador, Otto von der Gablentz, who had been Chancellor Helmut Schmidt's foreign-policy adviser and was an outstanding diplomat, devoted all his attention to Riesenhuber. He didn't even notice that the young minister from the East was shedding tears of rage – a weakness that Merkel quite often displayed early on in her political career. With great effort she managed to control herself. Journalists present were sympathetic towards this young woman from former East Germany, tolerated as a kind of mouse figure in the great game of politics. But when on her own initiative Merkel managed to engineer a meeting with the Israeli Foreign Minister, David Levy, her stock rose rapidly in the Ambassador's eyes – suddenly he was anxious to be seen in her company.
Merkel later recalled another episode on that visit. In the Monastery of Tabgha on the Sea of Galilee, she visited German monks at a priory that was connected to the Benedictine Abbey of Dormitio on Mount Zion in Jerusalem. At the 1995 Hamburg Church Congress she spoke openly about her faith, and among other things mentioned her visit to Tabgha. A monk took her round the monastery and pointed out the alleged site of the parable of the miraculous loaves and fishes. “So we stood in that hilly landscape and looked at the fertile plain in which the Sea of Galilee lies, and the monk told us: ‘This is where Jesus came down from the mountain, and then he was here, beside the lake; and if you go along to the next bay, that is where he met Peter the fisherman, and if you go a little farther you are at the scene of the feeding of the five thousand, and then he crossed from here, and then came the storm on the lake.’”
Angela Merkel Page 14
