© Fabrice Coffrini/Pool via REUTERS

Traditionally, German foreign policy has been viewed and shaped through two prisms, that of the European Union and that of the transatlantic relationship. The country’s involvement in the EU and NATO, and its close cooperation and coordination with Washington have presented a normative frame of reference and practical operational framework for (West) German foreign policy ever since the 1950s. But now the cracks are starting to show.

For Germany, this means not to turn away from one organization or the other–on the contrary. In terms of economic, political, security and defense policy, Germany depends heavily on both and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. This is all the more true as global institutions see their foundations shaken, paradoxically, by pressures from the United States. It will therefore be in Germany’s interest to make its relations with its European partners, and any resultant relations with the US, as targeted and resilient as possible.

A Question of Global Governance

In today’s rapidly changing world order, Germany’s European agenda has become more multi-faceted than in previous decades. While initially, it was about deepening and expanding the EU, now crisis management has increasingly been pushed to the fore.

To this day, Germany’s EU policy is an expression and consequence of the fact that Germany and Europe require a reliable international regulatory framework in order to secure peace, stability, and prosperity. However, at a time of rapid international change and growing strategic competition between great powers, this policy is becoming part of a more comprehensive form of global governance. As international institutions and laws are being called into question, notably by the US, this has become a pressing task for a middle-sized power with powerful international ties–a task that cannot be achieved alone. If Germany wants to help shape the discourse on an international level, it can only do this effectively–if at all–with the help of its European partners and through the EU.

At this point, three priorities emerge for Germany’s European policy. First, the community’s inner workings must be improved and its future as a cohesive whole secured, rendering it stronger in the global race between economic regions, political systems, and from a security and defense perspective. Second, it must fend off external influences and attempted divisions, thereby improving conditions for joint action on foreign policy. Third, it must safeguard the influence of the EU and its member states in the further development of international laws and organization.

Improving Resilience

Today, European politics is no longer a matter of the voluntary realization of a grand integration project, the “ever closer union” that was envisaged by the Treaty of Rome of 1957. The pressing task at hand is to adapt and integrate existing achievements–such as the eurozone, the single market, and passport-free travel within the Schengen area–to make them sustainable. This must be addressed despite the political climate which has seen polarization increase significantly both within and between member states, in part due to the rise of right-wing populist parties.

For a decade, Germany’s European policy has focused on the North-South divide. The financial and economic crises, which rippled out of the US and toward Europe in 2007-08, and the subsequent economic, banking, and national debt crises deepened economic rifts, making political differences in the eurozone all the more stark. Those showed in disputes over appropriate political responses, open criticism of Germany’s approach, and harsh polemic in the Greek and German media. The antagonism between donor and debtor nations which has pervaded the eurozone since 2010 is undoubtedly no longer a simple matter of north and south. It has long borne traces of an East-South divide: as previous and potential recipients of support and in light of their lower income per capita, some central and eastern European and Baltic members of the eurozone view national developments, such as those in Italy and Greece, with suspicion and consider them deeply irresponsible.

A new debate has arisen over legitimacy. On the one side, governments and societies criticize “the politics of austerity” and European controls over national political decisions on domestic and economic matters as too extensive; on the other, there are those who consider non-compliance with common rules and agreements in the eurozone to be illegitimate and divisive.

Uphold the Rule of Law

If we are to attain better socioeconomic cohesion and acceptance of the common European economic system, the balance between legal compliance and political action, between solidarity and personal responsibility, must be rejigged. This would entail a review of the basic regulations of the single market and the eurozone as well as improvements to the cross-border functioning of the capital, goods, services, and labor markets. These are the tools required to provide a stabilizing effect if neither monetary policy nor market mechanisms are able to guarantee the adjustments required in the event of asymmetrical shocks.

Germany and France are expected to continue working on developing instruments for macroeconomic stabilization. Another important step is to agree on a financial transaction tax, which would provide the EU with tax-based budgetary resources, as well as measures to combat tax dumping through harmonization of corporate taxes. Additional important steps for supporting growth and convergence include greater support from structural reforms, European research and innovation initiatives to support the digital revolution, and work on the European capital markets union, aiming to improve financing options in the EU.

In recent years, increasing reference has been made to an–at times discernibly–growing rift between the East and West within the EU. The discourse on Europe in some central and eastern European nations is particularly vehement in its prioritizing of questions of identity and sovereignty. Criticism of the EU is often combined with a radical rejection of migrants of a Muslim background. The Hungarian and Polish governments push explicitly illiberal democratic models and must be held accountable for violations against the principles of the rule of law and democracy.

Beyond the East-West Divide

The dichotomy between models of liberal Western democracy and society and openness toward more integration on one side and models of illiberal democracies and societies as well as isolationist politics and criticism of the EU on the other can no longer be reduced to a fault line between East and West. It has long been the case that parties in almost all EU member states have formed and succeeded in speaking for those who feel they have lost out to globalization, see no benefits to stronger cooperation in Europe, and push for a return to the nation state. As uncomfortable as it may be, these forces must be integrated into the discussion regarding the future of Europe, and they must be challenged to formulate their own ideas in a concrete way.

Euroskeptic, often populist parties and movements receive external support, be it from Russia or the US, for instance from the former head of the Breitbart News website Stephen Bannon, with a view to weakening Europe from within: with targeted propaganda, the dissemination of fake news, and support from the extreme right and left. They reject greater European cooperation, pushing instead for an identity-based nationalism. It is crucial to the EU’s future to be able to fend off the external influences which seek to divide it, undermine its ability to act, and weaken democracies and democratic powers.

For decades–and to its own advantage–the US has supported the integration of Europe and worked toward a close transatlantic relationship. The current US president has called the transatlantic alliance into question, triggering incentives for cooperation and integration within the EU, such as in matters of defense. Washington continues to send political signals which could, or may even be intended to, undermine European unity.

Germany now has the task of tackling interference from Washington and strengthening the EU, as Washington’s negotiating partner, in those areas where Brussels has a claim to representation, such as in trade policy. When it comes to defense, it is not a matter of strengthening cooperation between Europeans “against Washington,” as is often surmised. It’s a case of strengthening Europe’s capabilities within the context of NATO and, in doing so, increasing its contribution to the alliance.

Strategic Dilemma

In the case of China, defending against interference and reducing dependence while maintaining close relations is a real balancing act. Following strategic investments, among other moves, China has developed considerable influence within the EU and must be viewed as a potential threat. Defense strategies such as screening investments or utilizing political criteria for procurement are not enough–particularly as measures developed to ban Chinese investments in strategic industries are limited in their effectiveness if Chinese businesses are operating through European companies.

China’s perceived strength is also an expression of Europe’s weaknesses. Germany and the EU’s innovative powers are waning, and they are investing too little. This trend shows the EU’s strategic dilemma particularly when dealing with the crises in the eurozone. China made strategic investments in Portugal and Greece. During the crisis, the governments of these countries understandably allowed Chinese money into the country. Considering Germany’s own economic development, this is a rational short-term strategy, as long as Germany and the EU underinvest structurally.

However, the medium-term impact on the EU and the member states is only gradually becoming clear. When it comes to the EU or the UN, governments of countries in receipt of considerable investment from China consistently “toe the line” dictated by Beijing. Indeed, in 2017 Greece blocked a joint EU declaration on China before the UN Human Rights Council, and Hungary refused to sign an EU statement on the arrests of lawyers in China. Similarly, Greece and the Czech Republic advocated watering down EU regulations on controls on Chinese investments.

A Creator of Order

The European economic debate’s narrow focus on consolidation instead of investment has other, occasionally dramatic effects within the context of global power shifts, strategic competition, and rapidly advancing technological developments. Europe is at risk of falling behind the US and China in the race for artificial intelligent and biotechnology. The most successful online portals have long since ceased to be European ones. Significant sectors of the automobile industry are feeling the pressure; Germany has lost industries such as consumer electronics, telecommunications, computing and solar energy. A boost in European potential for growth and innovation and therefore the preservation of Europe’s economic powerbase is required to strengthen cohesion within the EU and make it possible for it to take on a formative role. This applies especially to new sectors such as artificial intelligence, cyber security, and other fields with basic regulatory requirements.

In light of its economic model, its traditions, and the orientation of its values as concern foreign policy and its understanding of itself from a security perspective, Germany has indicated that international laws and institutions will remain essentially functional. New regulatory frameworks will be established in order to, for example, keep up with the pace of technological developments. Another sensible aim of German’s European policy is therefore to strengthen Europe’s international role, enabling the EU to have an impact on shifts in the world order.

Germany’s Role at the United Nations

Germany has committed to using its temporary seat on the UN Security Council to represent European interests. Symbolically, it is sharing its presidency with France for the first time. Its top priority is to take an active role in the vital discussions surrounding UN reform–especially with the US, which may withdraw from more UN organizations, or reduce funding for them.

Germany’s strategy as regards its seat on the UN Security Council is to be viewed within the context of further efforts to give the EU a more powerful voice on the global stage. The German government supports majority decisions in EU foreign policy in order to make the likelihood of a decision being reached more probable. However, a unanimous decision must first be made regarding the change in this voting model. Due to the external influences mentioned above, it is also highly unlikely that the EU will actually take this step; at best, it will first identify individual fields in which a majority decision can be reached.

Finally, Germany should assume the role of an engine in the further development of civil crisis management, in European collaborations on defense within the Permanent Structured Cooperation (PESCO), and in smaller formats. As cooperative efforts on defense intensify, one must also anticipate criticisms that Europe is working “against the US,” if, for example, it promotes its own industrial defense projects. This insinuation must immediately be countered with the fact that the initiatives are taking place within the NATO framework.

Hanging in the Balance

Germany also has an important role to play in intra-European discourse, as some central and eastern European states in particular view themselves as considerably dependent on the US. Together with France and other EU partners, Germany needs to engage in deeper strategic talks to develop a common understanding of the changing challenges, its own and more common goals, and the instruments required to achieve them. With this in mind, European partners require more than to simply establish the necessary forums and processes between themselves. A crucial factor will be whether a genuine interest exists on both the German and the other side to enter this highly political discussion in an honest and committed way, in order to make Europe more capable of acting strategically.

Germany’s European policy must get to grips with a paradox: in light of international challenges, European cooperation has never seemed so important, while the centrifugal forces at work within the EU have never been so great, strengthened as they are by strategically exercised external influences. Together with France, Germany must work on solutions to enable the EU to deal with the challenges–both internal and external–which can no longer be denied.

Over the past couple of years, both countries have demonstrated to differing degrees that they recognize the signs of the times. If they run on sight, and if red lines are considered more important than developing strategic courses for action–be they in matters of the eurozone, defense or enlargement policy–then the shifting internal and external environment will continue to shrink the scope of European policy. Part of the discussion must focus on how Europe can secure and build on its remaining strengths and which options for power it can develop in order to avoid becoming a plaything–or worse, one plaything among many–in a world of strategic competition and zero-sum game thinking. To guarantee its resilience and power to act in international affairs, Germany and its EU partners must invest much more in the internal cohesiveness of the EU.

Just over two years ago, Germany’s mantra for its European policy was that the EU would make it through the age of Brexit with its 27 states intact. London’s attempts to conduct talks with a view to reaching an agreement on the side, in the interests of German industry based in the United Kingdom, fell flat in Berlin. The aim was to make any attempt to copy the UK seem unappealing and to ensure that its threats to leave did not change the fundamental principles of the EU.

Greater Flexibility

From the German perspective, it still makes sense to define the reference group for discussions surrounding the future of the EU as participants in the single market. It also remains the correct approach to hold fast to two principles: first of all, the freedoms of the single market and the European legal system, including the Copenhagen criteria on democracy and the rule of law, are and remain the basic principles of the EU. Second of all, the EU institutions must be protected and strengthened in their contractual duties, especially following this year’s European elections.

Nevertheless, there are grounds for greater flexibility in European cooperation. Europe is ultimately only a persuasive power by virtue of its success. If the system remains in a self-blockade, it will be necessary to work together to solve the problems in smaller groups of countries. In doing so, the edges of the community become blurred: as the EU struggles to differentiate itself internally, opportunities arise to cooperate more closely with neighbors, with the UK as a former EU state and with candidate countries. Brexit will contribute considerably toward making the future conversation on some topics, such as security and defense policy, more a matter of the creative role of Europe rather than that of the EU.

To preserve the internal cohesion of the EU, or at least that of the eurozone, Germany must show a greater willingness to compromise on economic organization and finally agree to the creation of stabilizing instruments and a greater sharing of risks in return for mechanisms which exert effective pressure on national politics. This will come at an acceptable price, considering the enormous benefits Germany derives from the existence of the euro, its functionality, and the single market. Together with France, Germany must also press ahead with discussions on the EU’s competitive position. The ban on the merger between Siemens and Alstom rail operations has made it clear that this must include not just a strategic research and innovation policy but also a discussion about an industrial and competition policy which looks to the future.

The Age of Minilateral Relations

Diplomatic efforts must be reinforced when it comes to seeking compromises and building a sustainable consensus. A new age of bilateral and minilateral relations began just a few years ago, when there was talk of reducing or even withdrawing German embassies from EU partner nations because involvement in EU structures and voting mechanisms had become so close. This sought to prevent future mishaps like the failed attempt to impose a migrant quota system, to understand developments in member states and the scope of their governments, and to campaign better for the EU’s own position and identify common preferences. For some of Germany’s important partner states, such as Poland and France as much as the United Kingdom, intensive bilateral relations must be maintained very consciously in order to (re-)establish mutual trust and identify common strategic goals. That France must be listed here shortly after the signing of the Aachen Treaty is evidence of the extent to which even these formerly close partners have become estranged.

The first indications of a rethink of European policy are evident in Berlin. Previous approaches, such as the “Likeminded Initiative” or #EuropeUnited will not be enough. Plausible political proposals and pioneering efforts are still needed in light of the comprehensive challenges at hand. This may be due to the chaotic situation in the EU or a recognition of the fact that our national interest may be deeply at risk if we do not come to our senses and lead the way with a crucial willingness to lead, take action, and engage in dialogue. If it turns out to be “too little, too late,” it is Germany and Europe who will pay the price.

The post Must Do Better appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

© REUTERS/Hannibal Hanschke

Going by the number of available experts, the German government is receiving better advice on foreign policy than ever before. For years, the number of think-tanks in Berlin has been growing, as have their budgets and staff. Ten years ago, there were 175 think-tanks; last year, there were 225. These figures from the think-tank index created by the University of Pennsylvania document an increase of nearly 30 percent. That German foreign policy has gotten 30 percent more effective over the past decade, however, is not an assertion one is likely to hear.

The growth is plainly related to the increasing importance of Germany in Europe and the world. Anyone who wants to influence the direction of European foreign policy is now likely to open an office not only in Brussels, but also (perhaps even beforehand) in Berlin. A sort of mixed forest of expertise has grown up in Germany’s capital, with plants of various size and orientation—from large institutions close to the government that can provide advice on nearly every global political issue to party foundations with numerous offices abroad to small civil society initiatives that fight for a single issue or point of view.

On top of that, there’s what the wags call the country’s biggest think-tank: the German Foreign Office, with its thousands of world-wise officials.

The “Merkel Plan” Dare

But what makes for good foreign policy advice today? It’s not the size of the institution that counts. In 2015, one of the smallest and newest think-tanks in Berlin made an astonishing impact. A small team boasting a bombastic name—“European Stability Initiative”—showed Angela Merkel’s government the way out of the refugee crisis. Gerald Knaus and barely more than a dozen employees formulated the basic concept of the EU-Turkey agreement without being officially tasked. Then the group cheekily named its concept the “Merkel Plan.”

Knaus, a Balkans and Turkey expert, proceeded on the following premises: deaths in the Mediterranean had to stop; Turkey needed help with the flows of refugees; and Greece needed relief. The stability of south-eastern Europe is vital for Germany; Turkey may not be able to become an EU member state but needs to be kept close to Europe; Germany cannot take in every refugee; a “Hungarian solution” of building fences would drive Greece to collapse.

So Turkey had to receive financial incentives to prevent people smuggling and improve its refugee refugee camps. And Greece would, after a certain deadline, return new arrivals to Turkey. The incentive to board dangerous boats would disappear; the drowning would stop. Germany, Knaus believed, had to lead the way there, in part to avoid having euroskeptics like Hungary’s Prime Minister Viktor Orbán offer (illusory) solutions.

Why didn’t the proposal come from one of the established think-tanks? Knaus had dared to step beyond the well-trodden path: both German leadership and European unity were possible on this issue, and it was even possible to deal with ornery Turkey. Migration is not an act of nature that withstands political control.

Advising Without Knowing-It-All

In times of upheaval—to employ a true cliché—advice cannot come from a standpoint of omniscience, not in a tone of perspicacity. Those giving it have to acknowledge uncertainty about Germany’s role in the world. It is a question of expanding the realm of the possible and doable, of reassessing the basic assumptions of German foreign policy.

The first efforts are here. Some examples: a debate has broken out at the German Marshall Fund about how the transatlantic relationship can be saved in the Donald Trump era by Germany itself. As GMF Vice President Thomas Kleine-Brockhoff put it, “producing more West” rather than just waiting for the United States. At the German Council on Foreign Relations (DGAP), under Russia expert Stefan Meister, a sober, realistic approach to Moscow has taken hold, one that has freed itself from the Ostpolitik paradigm and takes a clear-eyed view of Vladimir Putin’s tough anti-Western power politics. The German Institute for International and Security Affairs (SWP) is carrying out a critical analysis of the Franco-German ambition to achieve “European sovereignty” and researching diplomacy in post-diplomatic times. The Mercator Institute for China Studies (MERICS) is illustrating the dangers of German industry’s excessive dependence on the Chinese market instead of simply celebrating its opportunities for growth.

Nevertheless, such outside-the-box thinking is still far too infrequent. All too often, experts are satisfied with putting themselves forward as voices of moderate reason in their respective fields, which is reflected in their use of certain buzzwords. Middle East experts hold on to the “two-state solution” for Israel and Palestine, regardless of every new Jewish settlement; transatlanticists swear to the “community of values,” which the US president stomps on every day; undaunted France experts demand a restart of the “Franco-German motor,” which has long been broken; and it took years of destructive policies by Putin to drive phrases like “modernization partnership” out of at least some Russia experts’ vocabulary.

The Temptation of the Mainstream

Having a registry of foreign policy phrases might even be useful—for political advisors as well as newspaper columnists. Right at the top would be the “liberal international order” (LIO for short). These days, people pledge allegiance to it so often that one would think that a free, liberal world order for the good of all mankind had reigned for decades until Trump showed up out of the blue and kicked it to the curb. Again and again, like a mantra, we hear that we must defend this “rules-based order.” (Is there actually order without rules?) I must confess, I have joined this chorus myself.

And yet it is important to understand how this order was related to the Cold War and US hegemony; why it brought neither freedom nor rules to large parts of the world; why its rules were perceived in many places as an imposition; and that this order carried the seeds of its present decomposition long before its opponents ganged up on it. Only then should one ask the question of what the German government could contribute to saving it, and what part of the LIO promise seems, despite everything, worth saving.

Without critical examination of such axioms, political advice becomes the production of ideologies. Which, admittedly, when one looks at the historical context out of which the “strategic community” originated, is a constant danger.

In the mid-1950s and early 1960s the foundations were laid for what are still the most important think-tanks in Germany, the DGAP and the SWP. The inspiration came partly from London (Chatham House), but above all from Washington. Germany’s friends in the US had already complained in the early 1950s that they didn’t have German counterparts in the “pre-political” sphere. So Germany set about creating corresponding institutions.

Around Massachusetts Avenue in the US capital, there had arisen an expert network linking government, lobby groups, the academic elite, and—not to be forgotten—the intelligence services. This network justified, shaped and steered US foreign policy during the decades of its seemingly unlimited growth in importance. According to its own claims, the network was both an instrument of US hegemony as well as a means of correcting the latter’s worst mistakes.

The “Playbook” as a Problem

The foreign policy advisers were a characteristic of US hegemony after World War II from the start. Today, they continue to constitute a cross-party foreign policy elite with a strong sense of mission, who claim to write the “playbook” for the challenges facing the world’s leading power. Their institutes can make available a recruitment pool of highly-qualified experts after every change at the White House and the State Department.

Today’s German landscape still lags behind its American counterpart, not just in terms of numbers (the US has 1800 think-tanks), but also in terms of the lack of barriers between government, politics and advice. The division between expertise and the executive remains strong in Germany. To be sure, there are a few diplomats who have gone on further education and professional training missions—in a sense parked in the pre-political sphere. But rarely do think-tankers switch to the other side and temporarily become diplomats, as the head of SWP, Volker Perthes, has done with his Syria mission. The German political foundations are essentially permeable in one direction only: they serve as a spent fuel pond for deserving top talent on its way off the political stage.

Because changes of government in Germany do not lead to the replacement of thousands of top officials, one key function of US think-tanks—being a place for temporarily out-of-action top officials—is superfluous here. That alone creates, despite all the interconnections, a large distance between the experts and political power. This distance is often lamented. But in view of the massive advising failures of the American foreign policy establishment, one could also take that as a virtue. The US think-tank complex is—after the failed wars it helped pave the way for in Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya—in a deep crisis. It wasn’t Trump’s disparagement of the elites that first created this problem, as some interested parties would suggest.

Trump’s predecessor Barack Obama—not a person that one would suspect of anti-intellectualism—also rebelled against the expert consensus, the so-called “Washington playbook.” Obama’s decision to erase his own red line and not interfere in Syria, as he admitted to Jeffrey Goldberg in The Atlantic, was a break with the advisers who recommended an attack for reasons of “credibility.”

The Legitimacy Crisis of the Experts

The discreditation of the foreign policy establishment did not start with Trump, the populist. Obama was proud to have pulled away from the “experts complex,” too. The fact that two US presidents who couldn’t be more different have conducted themselves in the same manner in this respect suggests that the crisis of experts has structural causes.

To a lesser degree, the downfall of the foreign policy establishment in the US is also relevant for Germany. Not only does it demonstrate which mistakes one should avoid, it also has repercussions due to the international interconnection of experts. The experts’ legitimacy crisis is an international phenomenon.

The world of advisers is, like other institutions—parties, parliament, governments, trade unions, universities, foundations, the media—under unprecedented pressure to explain itself. The questions are justified: whose interests do the experts represent? From which perspective do they actually make their observations? How do they acquire their knowledge? How objective can they be?

The going conspiracy theories about the dark power of the adviser network are inadequate. Just think of the Open Society Foundations (OSF) founded by George Soros and the numerous organizations they support. For years, there has been a global hate campaign against them, with anti-Semitic elements. Left-wing critics now accuse the network of wanting to keep the world open for the capitalist market. Right-wingers see a global “shadow government” that has dedicated itself to the subversion of national sovereignty. The corrosion of traditional values, the promotion of illegal migration, the support of “color revolutions”—authoritarian regimes accuse OSF of all of this. The organization had to move its headquarters from Budapest to Berlin last year because Hungary was impeding its operations.

Other interested parties also cast doubt on foreign policy networks. I myself was denounced on Russian television as an American agent after writing several articles critical of Germany’s Russia policy. Proof of my guilt: in 2000 I was a fellow at the German Marshall Fund in Washington. On his evening news show on Russia 1, the Kremlin’s chief propagandist, Dmitry Kiselyov, used this freely available information and the GMF logo to make me out to be a US-directed enemy of Russia.

Even discounting such smear campaigns, it is true that political advice today needs to do a better job of justifying and explaining itself. As the decisions made in Berlin become more important in Europe and the world, the pressure increases on those who make them to legitimize themselves.

German Belief System in Ruins

What’s more, Germany foreign policy no longer faces challenges only from its opponents, but also from its most important allies. Nothing has thrown this into sharper relief than the US government’s rejection of the most important achievement of German (and other countries’) diplomacy since reunification. The agreement over the Iranian nuclear program, the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), was torpedoed last year by the same ally that helped negotiate it.

That is not merely a disagreement about substance or policy, as has often occurred between Berlin and Washington. The fight about the JCPOA is also about a basic premise of German foreign policy: that there can be diplomatic solutions for problems that cannot be solved at the national level (such as climate or trade questions); that one can achieve success with opponents and frenemies (Russia, China) for the benefit of non-participating third parties (Israel); that, in other words, win-win-win situations are possible.

The US government, under the banner of “America First,” is questioning this axiom of German diplomacy. And the end of the JCPOA is possibly only a harbinger of coming disruptions: in climate diplomacy and on free trade questions, serious fissures between the allies are already starting to appear. That is also true with regard to NATO, an even more existential question.

Decision-makers in Berlin are deeply shocked by all of this, and uncertainty about the consequences has also hit external advisers. That’s a good thing. But what should be done? Simply carrying on won’t work. What then? Break away from the powerful partner, strengthen one’s own capabilities? Even openly act against it? Try to bring it closer? Build an alliance against it? Develop workarounds with other allied powers that might compensate for the loss of the US (Alliance of Multilateralists)? Or do all of that at the same time?

Is the German government getting good advice on this existential strategic question? That’s a hard claim to make. The traditionally transatlantic-minded expert circle is Berlin is only slowly coming out of its shock-induced paralysis. After two years of constant attacks on NATO, free trade and every liberal principle, Trump is now being taken seriously as the result of structural change, and no longer trivialized as a “freak event” after which we can all return to the status quo.

As bitter as it is, it could actually be an opportunity that all three major schools of Germany foreign policy are staring at the rubble of their belief systems: the transatlanticists thanks to Trump, the Ostpolitikers thanks to Putin, and the European integrationists thanks to the European reality.

Passion and Inner Freedom

How to proceed? Two rather technical-bureaucratic proposals are making the rounds: Germany needs a national security council, and (or) it needs a council of foreign policy experts similar to the German Council of Economic Experts. Both might be helpful to some extent, in order to facilitate strategic communication between the government departments and between different levels of hierarchy. (However, in recent times the US example of a powerful NSC has not proved very encouraging.) In the future, Germany will have even more colorful, fragile coalition governments, which will divide up the ministries relevant to foreign policy. (And today, which ministries aren’t?) That makes reaching a consensus about “grand strategy” even more difficult. That doesn’t have to be a disadvantage in every respect, and could instead be chance for self-correction.

A pluralistic council of experts could bring strategic questions into the public consciousness, questions that cut across the borders of government departments: why climate change is a security challenge; how migration is related to our economic policy; that one has to understand digitalization as power politics, data as a resource, and social media as a weapon.

But new strategic structures alone will not answer the decisive questions. How does one avoid the self-reinforcement and path dependency that got the experts into this crisis? By suggesting the Turkey deal, an unknown mini think-tank with a small budget was able to change the policy course of the German government and help solve a European crisis. So it is possible, with passion and inner freedom.

The post Well Advised? Hardly appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

It’s a trigger word for many Germans. “Tempolimit”, or “speed limit,” can cause even quite reasonable people to see red. This, after all, is the land of the free, at least when it comes to speeding down the motorway. “Freie Fahrt für freie Bürger!” or “Freedom to drive for free citizens.” is the rallying cry for those who would defend that right.

Of course there are speed limits on many German roads and even on some motorways, but on 60 percent of autobahns, there are none. That makes Germany an exception among industrial nations. While it’s rare for most cars to actually reach their full speed potential, there is a fast lane where many drivers will try to push it to the max. As a result, motorists can find driving on a German autobahn a singularly terrifying or exhilarating experience, depending on what makes them tick.

The latest outbreak of Tempolimit fever was triggered by leaks from a working group on carbon emissions in transport, which account for 12 percent of the country’s total. The committee came up with a range of proposals, from a quota for e-cars to a hike in fuel taxes. But it was the inclusion of the speed limit that really raised hackles. The proposal was immediately pounced upon by politicians, interest groups, and the concerned citizenry. Talk shows and current affairs programs were devoted to it, as were countless column inches and gigabytes of online commentary.

How Fast Can You Go?

The most vociferous of those up in arms and to the barricades to defend the status quo was Transport Minister Andreas Scheuer, the man who had commissioned the working group. He exclaimed that talk of a speed limit was “contrary to all common sense.” Scheuer, it should be noted, is a member of the conservative Christian Social Union, which is a party based in Bavaria, home to BMW and many fine kilometers of autobahn. He was soon joined by Christian Lindner, the leader of the liberal Free Democrats, who tweeted that a Tempolimit would be just a symbol and an uncreative means to tackle climate change. “We need innovation, not re-education,” he said.

On the other side of the debate, the Green and the non-profit Deutsche Umwelthilfe—which has lobbied for a limit, estimating that it could cut an estimated 5 million tons of CO2 per year—welcomed the news of the speed limit proposal. Transport, the Umwelthilfe stated, was the only area in which emissions of greenhouse gases have continued to increase since 1990.

The police saw the potential for making roads safer. “We could save lives and prevent serious injuries,” Michael Mertens, deputy head of the police officers’ trade union, told the Süddeutsche Zeitung newspaper. “Here in this country, some people drive completely legally at 200 or even 250 kilometers per hour,” he said. “Let’s be clear: this is madness. At this speed, nobody can control their car in stressful situations.”

An Issue of Freedom

Predictably, the car industry was quick to step in and pour cold water on the suggestion of a speed limit. Bernhard Mattes, the head of the powerful German Automotive Industry Association (VDA), cited the heated debate as an example of hysterical populism. Of course it makes sense that the car industry, a vital part of the German economy, would want to defend the “need for speed.”

Many Germans like fast cars, and the most powerful cars are usually pretty expensive. In 2017, according to Transport Ministry figures, 29 percent of cars registered in Germany had a maximum speed of more than 200 kilometers per hour. It’s also a useful marketing tool for selling abroad, as drivers can at least aspire to those full-throttle experiences when sitting behind the wheel of a car “made in Germany.”

But the debate also touches on a lot of other issues. In a highly regulated society, driving as fast as you can is seen as one of the last remaining free spaces. And many argue that it is even intrinsic to German identity, comparing it to the right to bear arms in the US—which would make a speed limit the equivalent of gun control. And while there actually is a slight majority in favor of a speed limit, the minority is committed and highly vocal. A recent poll showed that 51 percent of Germans are in favor of a limit of 130 km, while 47 percent were firmly against.

Fear of Populism

It is this sizeable minority that worries the political class. The leader of the Christian Democrats, Annegret Kramp-Karrenbauer, quickly dismissed the talk of a Tempolimit as a “phantom debate.” Chancellor Merkel’s spokesman said there were more intelligent ways to reduce CO2 emissions.

Behind such statements is the very real fear that the far-right Alternativ für Deutschland (AfD) could use the issue to increase their support base. After all, the AfD has already jumped on the bandwagon over the imposition of a ban on older diesel cars in several cities in a bid to tackle air pollution. The party was out in force at a recent protest in Stuttgart, where hundreds of people, many wearing yellow vests, gathered holding banners saying “Pro-diesel” and “Diesel drivers mobilize.” The protestors are furious that the diesel car ban has hit the resale value of their cars, which means they can’t afford to buy a new one.

The bans come on the heels of the Dieselgate emissions scandal over auto companies hiding illegal pollution levels from regulators, and the reaction shows just how fraught issues surrounding mobility and cars can become.

Yet the fact remains that Germany does need to tackle issues like air pollution in cities and find ways to meet its climate targets. Without the speed limit, the working group will have to come up with some real alternatives when it releases its report in March. Yet if those include something like higher taxes on fuel, then that could also provoke protests. After all, in France it was just such a hike that triggered the gilets jaunes movement.

So while the Tempolimit is parked for now, it’s an issue that will undoubtedly come vrooming back onto the political agenda in the not too distant future. 

The post Words Don’t Come Easy: “Tempolimit” appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

© REUTERS/Wolfgang Rattay

During Angela Merkel’s 2019 New Year’s video address, images of brown, drought-stricken fields shot by German astronaut Alexander Gerst from the International Space Station were faded in to remind viewers of “the vulnerability of the basis for life.” Climate change was a Schicksalsfrage, a question of fate, Merkel exclaimed. An issue that demanded bold international action.

A few weeks later, it looked as if Germany might actually be doing its part. On January 26, the government-appointed coal commission—consisting of 28 representatives of government, unions, industry, and environmental NGOs—presented its plan to phase out coal by 2038. Though the commission’s plan still needs to be enshrined in law, it was lauded far and wide for taking all interests into account. While taking a major step towards climate change mitigation, it also foresees spending €2 billion per year for the next two decades to cope with the loss of coal mining jobs in affected regions. Patrick Graichen, the director of think-tank Agora Energiewende, said it “showed that large social conflicts can still be solved together in Germany. It is therefore a great moment for our political system.”

The “coal consensus” is a late success for Merkel’s climate policy. Too little, too late, perhaps: even if the new deal is fully implemented, Germany will only meet its own 2020 emissions targets by 2025, according to Agora Energiewende. A vast amount of work has yet to be undertaken by the country if it is to fulfil its commitments under the Paris agreement. And the debate about coal has raised questions about Merkel’s climate legacy.

Noble Words

Judging only by her words, one could be forgiven for mistaking Merkel for a veritable climate warrior. She has been grappling—at least rhetorically—with climate change since the beginning of her political career. As environment minister under Chancellor Helmut Kohl, she presided over the first UN climate conference (COP1) in Berlin in 1995. At the time, she wrote in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Sonntagszeitung: “With good reason, it is expected from governments and politicians that they no longer close their eyes to the pressing scientific findings that climate protection requires rapid and vigorous action.”

Ever since, Merkel has hammered home that message at international summits, earning her the nickname “climate chancellor.” At the G8 summit in Heiligendamm in 2007, for example, she persuaded oil-loving US President George W. Bush and Russian President Vladimir Putin to accept the latest IPCC report recommending emissions cuts to prevent the earth from warming by more than between 1.5 and 2.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels. At the 2015 Paris UN Climate Change Conference, Merkel was credited with working tirelessly behind the scenes and getting skeptical leaders such as Putin on board with the final agreement.

Missed Targets, Tarnished Reputation

In late 2018, the government announced it would miss its own 2020 emissions targets. Instead of the 40-percent reduction of greenhouse gases over 1990 levels that had been its initial target, Germany would only achieve a 32-percent drop. Emissions had stagnated at 11 tons of carbon dioxide (CO2) per inhabitant, higher than the EU average of 8.4 tons. In a report in December, the government blamed unexpected growth, both of the population and the economy, for the lack of progress. Having given up on trying to reach the 2020 target, the government said it would concentrate on meeting its 2030 goal of a 55-percent reduction over 1990 levels.

Why isn’t Germany meeting its targets? For one, the Energiewende, or energy transition, set in motion by Gerhard Schröder’s SPD-Greens coalition, is running out of steam. It was once the world’s most ambitious renewable energy program. Germany’s renewable energy feed-in tariffs were copied the world over and sparked a wave of innovation in wind and solar technology at home, with some impressive results: renewables now account for 40 percent of German electricity, up from 10 percent when Merkel took office in 2005.

However, Germany is not committing to the investments necessary to make the Energiewende sustainable in the long term. From 2021, subsidies for wind and solar energy will end completely. Over the past few years, the number of new wind turbines installed on land has dropped radically due to new restrictions on their size and location and political resistance at the local, state and federal levels. The result has been job losses in what was once lauded as one of Germany’s most innovative industries. The systems that store power when the sun is not shining and the wind is not blowing, as well as the high-capacity “electricity autobahns” to transport power from the wind farms of the North Sea to the industrial south, have not received enough government support, a deficit some critics blame on Merkel’s Economy Minister Peter Altmaier, who is not a big fan of the Energiewende.

Merkel’s about-face on nuclear power also played an important role. Upon becoming chancellor, Merkel moved to “phase out the phase-out” of nuclear power set in motion by her predecessor. But following the 2011 Fukushima accident she abruptly reversed course and decided to shut down all nuclear plants by 2022, even faster than under the previous government’s plan. Since nuclear power was CO2-free and provided the baseload electricity required by German industry, massive continued investment is required in renewable sources as well as in relatively clean gas plants. But this has yet to occur to a sufficient degree. As nuclear plants have been taken offline in recent years, the baseload has been increasingly covered by lignite or brown coal.

Slow Retreat from Coal

Under the new “coal consensus,” lignite will be mined and burned for another 19 years. Lignite emits more CO2 than virtually any other fuel. Open-cast lignite mines bring with them huge environmental and social costs, from sinking ground water to the destruction of villages and the forced relocation of tens of thousands of people. For a “climate chancellor,” Merkel has had a very friendly relationship with the coal industry. In 2006 she even laid the first stone of a brand new RWE lignite power plant in the western town of Neurath.

As the coal commission convened last year, environmentalists stepped up their anti-coal activism. In the Rhine region there were massive protests against the planned clearance of the Hambach Forest for the expansion of a lignite mine. Since the fall, German high school students, inspired by Swedish 16-year-old Greta Thunberg, have been staging “school strikes for the climate.” On a cold January Friday, about 10,000 Berlin teens skipped school to protest outside the building where the coal commission was holding its final meeting.

Under the commission’s proposals, all coal plants would be closed by 2038. €2 billion per year or a total of €40 billion over 20 years would be invested in coal regions. Utilities would receive billions in compensation. Altmaier said the plan would result in a 55-percent drop in emissions by 2030 over 1990 levels. New subsidies would keep consumer energy prices affordable. Both industry and unions welcomed the deal.

But not all are happy. Greenpeace Germany director Martin Kaiser, who took part in the negotiations, said that under the plan, Germany aimed to keep warming below 2 degrees Celsius, while the Paris agreement stipulates a maximum of 1.5 degrees Celsius. “This won’t be achieved by a step-by-step phase-out of coal-powered plants by 2038,” said Kaiser. For Germany to be in line with Paris, emissions must be reduced by 70 percent by 2030, not 55 percent.

Karen Pittel of the ifo Center for Energy, Climate and Resources said “the compensation for power plant operators and the planned relief funds for electricity prices would cause the cost of the coal phase-out to rise further.  A chance for fundamental reform of energy and climate policy has been missed.” The phase-out would make the Energiewende—which, according to Pittel, will already cost €1 trillion by 2050—even more expensive.

Too little, too late, too expensive. But perhaps better late than never in an era when the likes of US President Trump sing the praises of “beautiful clean coal.”

Cars Are King

The area where Merkel will find it hardest to make progress is transportation, Germany’s “problem child,” at least in terms of climate change and pollution. Road transport emissions in the EU have risen by more than 20 percent since 1990. And in Germany itself, the car industry employs a million people and enjoys an annual turnover of more than €400 billion. Over the past two decades German automakers pushed “clean diesel” as the way to reduce CO2 from cars rather than investing in alternative fuels and electric motors. Indeed, diesel is taxed at lower rates than gasoline, encouraging the purchase of diesel-guzzling SUVs and negating the positive impact of diesel’s lower CO2 emissions. The “Dieselgate” scandal—in which Volkswagen and other German carmakers were found to have installed illegal software in diesel cars to keep emissions artificially low during testing—laid bare the lie of “clean diesel” in 2015.

Nevertheless, Transport Minister Andreas Scheuer still goes to great lengths to protect the car industry, even questioning the validity of EU air quality standards because of a critical paper signed by German lung specialists. When a transport commission tasked with devising ways to reduce CO2 emissions proposed a speed limit of 130 kilometers per hour on the autobahn, Scheuer criticized it as going “against common sense.” That put him at odds with the 63 percent of Germans who favor a speed limit, according to a survey published by by DIE WELT newspaper in January. Scheuer was once again speaking the language of the car giants. Unsurprising in a country with a powerful auto lobby and in which senior politicians in the CDU/CSU and SPD have been known to take on lucrative jobs in the industry upon leaving office.

Another effort to clean up transportation—putting a million electric cars on German roads by 2020—will fail miserably. In 2018, a total of 100,000 electric and hybrid plug-ins were registered in a country with 46 million cars.  Merkel’s governments simply have not invested enough in charging stations or committed to the necessary financial incentives to boost sales in electric models. As countries around Europe name end dates for the sale of combustion engines, Germany hangs on to gasoline and diesel, protecting its flagship industry in the short-term and yet risking its future.

Now What?

A so-called climate protection law being pushed by Environment Minister Svenja Schulze is supposed to be passed this year. The law will bundle a series of measures, ensuring Germany’s emissions will be lowered to achieve the government’s goal of a 55-percent CO2 reduction by 2030 compared to 1990s levels. Meanwhile, as Germany simultaneously phases out coal and nuclear energy, it will have to produce a lot more electricity through renewable sources and “back-up” natural gas plants. No one really knows how much power a full transition to electro-mobility would require. One estimate puts it at 120 terawatt hours, requiring the equivalent of 20 new gas-fired power stations. Other problems that could nullify German climate efforts are the rapid growth of air travel and electricity used for IT.

According to a 2018 Hamburg University study, “climate change is an important factor in the voting behavior of about 40 percent of Germans.” It is perhaps no surprise that the Greens, who have the most aggressive climate policy of any party, are enjoying record support, polling at about 20 percent. The next government could very well be a CDU-Greens coalition, creating a chance to take more radical but necessary steps toward fulfilling the targets of the Paris accord and ending a decade and a half of Merkel’s wishy-washy approach to climate change.

The post Tepid on Climate Change appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

Artwork © Dominik Herrmann

Robert Habeck would hate this article. Or at least he would say he does. The high-flying head of the German Green party, aware that nothing kills a politician’s career quicker than hype, often appears to be deflecting his popularity. But in these past few months, no other political figure has caught the attention of Germany’s media more effectively than the smooth and casual 49-year-old intellectual from the Danish borderlands.

Habeck’s slightly grumpy charisma is infectious. The weekly carousel of German political talkshows (Anne Will, Maybrit Illner, Maischberger and hart aber fair) can’t get enough of his unshaven, tousle-haired charm: a count by the newspaper network RND found that in 2018, Habeck made the most appearances on the four TV staples of any German politician: 13 in all.

As if all that publicity weren’t enough, just last month he was anointed “politician of the year,” along with Green party co-leader Annalena Baerbock, by Politik & Kommunikation, a media trade magazine that felt the need to celebrate the pair after the Green party’s spectacular autumn. In October’s state elections in Bavaria and Hesse, the left-liberal environmentalists carved large slices out of the two major political parties, Angela Merkel’s Christian Democratic Union (CDU) and the tailspinning Social Democratic Party (SPD), and made themselves the second-biggest force in both state parliaments.

Don’t Call Us a Volkspartei

Politik & Kommunikation’s laudatory editors said that, under Habeck and Baerbock, the Greens were “on the way to becoming a Volkspartei.” But that word, meant to invoke an exalted status, might have set Habeck’s teeth on edge. Literally “people’s party,” a Volkspartei is what Germans like to call the CDU and the SPD, the pragmatic centrists that encompass swathes of sensible citizens from many social strata. For decades, the two parties could put as much as 80 percent of the electorate under their umbrellas, steering Germany across a serene ocean of Realpolitik.

But things have changed. The political landscape is flattening out as people disperse to different camps. Established broad churches aren’t providing the succour they once did, and apart from the far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD), no one appears to have benefited from this fragmentation more than the Greens. This is not to say that German voters have become deranged idealists chasing populist visions, but it does mean that Merkel’s political bloc no longer has a monopoly on conservatism. That became most clear in the aftermath of the Bavarian election, when surveys found that, as well as the 200,000 votes the Greens had stolen from the Social Democrats, the Greens had poached some 170,000 from the Christian Social Union (CSU).

This is significant: tens of thousands of people who had previously identified with an overwhelmingly Catholic conservative party with a hardline anti-immigration stance shifted to a former protest party with an ecological, migration-friendly agenda. The CSU’s election campaign, much like its governing policy in Bavaria for the past three years, was a desperate attempt to head off the threat from the AfD by relentlessly attacking Merkel for letting in too many refugees. That allowed the Greens to appear reasonable, to insist on the rule of law, and allowed the conservative Bavarian voter to find a serious alternative without having to associate with the stuffy leftism of the Social Democrats and (God forbid) Die Linke.

This isn’t all Habeck’s doing, obviously, but he is alert enough to believe that this is why, even though the Greens have now overtaken the SPD in the polls, a Volkspartei is exactly what he doesn’t want them to become—or be seen as becoming. In a society divided and (very slowly) bringing its diversity into its politics, the idea that a substantial part of the population will identify with any major political party is emphatically dead. The basic math supports the point: the Christian Democrats are only just clearing the 30-percent mark, and the Social Democrats can barely muster 15 percent of voters (as late-January polls show)—in other words, the political center can no longer count on the majority of the population.

When explaining this, Habeck occasionally coughs up a soundbite that flirts with meaninglessness, (“We don’t need the lowest common denominator, we need higher common goals,” he told one public broadcaster), but it speaks of optimism and strategic acumen that he sees this growing instability as an opportunity. “Volatility also means there’s a fair chance of winning majorities,” he told Der Spiegel magazine in December. “The loss of old certainties is at the same time the winning of new possibilities.”

Only Squares Join a Party

Habeck also appears to be alive to another aspect of this fragmentation. The whole idea of a political party, with its formalities, hierarchies, and laboriously set-out agendas is starting to weary voters, and German politicians are beginning to do what might be called the Emmanuel Macron En Marche thing: play the anti-elitist outsider and start a political movement from scratch. The most obvious parallel in Germany is the socialist Aufstehen organization, started by Sahra Wagenknecht, who has somehow managed to remain Die Linke’s party leader.

Habeck has ruled out going that far, but his interactions with the Green party suggest that he is carefully nurturing an aura of independence. He’s quite open about technological advances in agriculture, for instance, even if that defies traditional party wisdom.

This much is reflected in his precipitous rise: the son of pharmacists, Habeck grew up in Heikendorf, outside the port city of Kiel. Apart from marrying and raising children, he spent the 1990s producing literary translations, partly in Denmark, and writing a doctorate on literary aesthetics. But by the time he reached his 30s, he switched track. In 2002, he joined the Green party, and by 2004 he was its leader in his home state of Schleswig-Holstein. Even as he ascended the ranks—by 2012 he was the state’s minister for agriculture and environment—he continued as an author, publishing novels together with his wife Andrea Paluch and non-fiction that largely reflected his undergraduate passion for philosophy.

His most recent book, Wer wir sein könnten (“Who we could be”) from October 2018, examines the relations between democratic and totalitarian language, but his 2010 work Patriotismus: Ein linkes Plädoyer (“Patriotism—a left-wing appeal”) might be a better clue to understanding Habeck. It reads as an earnest and pragmatic attempt to reconcile the looming political splits that occurred in the second half of this decade. Still, a vestige of this approach is noticeable in the tour of Germany Habeck undertook last summer, during which, between political engagements, he visited spots that marked milestones in Germany’s path to democracy, such as the Hambacher Schloss, opening debates on how to “own” a left-liberal patriotic mythology.

A Serious Faux-Pas

Such noises have inevitably stirred unrest among the Green party’s ranks, though Habeck and Baerbock’s successes mean they have walked that awkward tightrope well: keeping the core voters on their side while reaching out beyond. For one reason or another, the Greens appear to be the only German party that is not either desperately searching for a new direction or in open conflict with itself. In fact, Habeck’s air of independence, and his close cooperation with Baerbock, have managed to quell the endless conflict between the party’s conservative “realos” and its left-wing “idealos”. For what it’s worth, Habeck is definitely a “realo”: he brought the Green party into coalition with the CDU and the neo-liberal Free Democrats in Schleswig-Holstein, but he’s still in favor of a basic income, or at least ending sanctions on Hartz IV unemployment benefits.

But the bigger test to that inner harmony will come this autumn, when three elections in Germany’s least Green-friendly regions loom: Brandenburg, Saxony, and Thuringia. The omens so far are not good: Thuringia was the scene of Habeck’s biggest mistake to date in early January, which resulted in his rather drastic renunciation of social media. In a video tweeted by the state’s Green party, Habeck told voters that his party “would do everything to make sure Thuringia becomes an open, free, liberal, and democratic state.”

It was an impromptu video message delivered in a noisy conference room, but that “becomes” was a significant faux pas: a grave insult to Thuringians, made worse by the fact that the Greens already are in the state’s government. Habeck’s statement also played to the prejudice that many Germans have about the Greens: that they are urban smart-asses who want to tell you what to do. For a second, Habeck’s composure, and his ability to speak to non-Green party voters, had slipped. It might yet prove a fateful signal.

The post Close-Up: Robert Habeck appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

© REUTERS/Fabrizio Bensch

Germany’s troubled Social Democratic Party is rediscovering its roots. With promises of higher wages, pensions, and social benefits, the SPD is trying to woo back working-class voters. “Solidarity, social cohesion, and humanity—those are the principles on which we are building a new social state,” said party chairwoman Andrea Nahles in February after a two-day leadership retreat.

The SPD’s populist turn to the left marks the end of the consensus politics that has shaped the country’s political, economic, and social landscape for decades. While it does not immediately endanger the coalition with Angela Merkel’s conservative bloc, the SPD has made it clear that from now on, political identity counts more than remaining in power.

“We have positioned ourselves clearly,” Nahles said. “If others want to rub up against that—then that’s politics. We actually need more of that.”

2019 brings a series of difficult electoral challenges for the Social Democrats. Over the past 20 years, they have tumbled from 40.9 percent of the votes in the 1998 federal elections to 15 percent in recent polls. In addition to the European Parliament elections in May, four state elections are scheduled for this year.

With its new program “A New Social State for a New Era,” the SPD promises to raise the minimum wage from €9.19 to €12 per hour and introduce the right to work from home. Families with children are to receive far more generous benefits, particularly if they depend on social aid. At the same time, older employees would be entitled to receive full unemployment benefits for a much longer time. In addition, the SPD wants to introduce a minimum pension of €900 per month for employees who have put in more than 35 years of work.

Hitting a Nerve

According to opinion polls, the SPD may be hitting the right nerve. Two-thirds of voters say they would back at least some of the proposals, particularly those on the minimum wage and pensions.

For the SPD’s coalition partner, however, the “New Social State” consists mostly of no-gos. Annegret Kramp-Karrenbauer, the new leader of the Christian Democratic Union (CDU), has been trying to sharpen her profile as a conservative on issues ranging from conscription to migration. Giving way to the SPD on social benefits would not help her cause. Her predecessor Angela Merkel, the most pragmatic and centrist leader the CDU has ever had, has said little in public about the new SPD program. But it is clear that even she will find the new ideological divide difficult to bridge.

Germany’s conservatives want to spend more money on defense while cutting the solidarity surtax that was introduced nearly 30 years ago to pay for the cost of German reunification. The SPD, faced with the prospect that its new social policy proposals could cost more than €40 billion a year, says it’s a question of rethinking the government’s priorities—and possibly of raising taxes for the wealthy.

In a highly symbolic move, the SPD also renounced the painful labor market and social benefit reforms that Gerhard Schröder, the last SPD politician to make it to the chancellery, introduced in 2003.

The most contentious of these reforms is “Hartz IV,” named after Volkswagen’s former labor director Peter Hartz. As one of Schröder’s close advisors, Hartz drew up the proposals to limit unemployment benefits and introduce sanctions for long-term unemployed people not making enough of an effort to find a job.

Unanimously and with obvious relief, the SPD leadership recently decided to abolish the “Hartz IV” regulation, replacing it with a “citizen’s income” that would be paid out for much longer and with far fewer sanctions. “We are leaving Hartz IV behind, and not just in name,” Nahles declared at the close of a retreat where she received unanimous support for her new program.

Nahles Vindicated

It’s safe to say that Andrea Nahles must have felt vindicated. In Schröder’s time, she was one of the most prominent voices of the SPD’s left and a sharp critic of his reforms, fearing they would end up splitting the party and alienating many of its voters.

As it happens, she was right: Schröder’s “Agenda 2010” package of liberal reforms caused thousands of trade unionists and SPD traditionalists to leave the party and join the newly-founded Left Party, which developed into a dangerous competitor. But even for those who stayed, Hartz IV continued to be tremendously divisive. That, in turn, has been a major factor in the steep decline of the party’s vote share since the millennium.

While the program damaged the SPD, it benefited the country. Economists widely agree that Agenda 2010 was central to restoring Germany’s competitiveness and growth. Certainly, Germany would not be the leading European economy today without the market-oriented reforms that Schröder pushed through.

Ironically, it was Merkel who benefited the most: becoming chancellor in 2005, voters gave her credit for the prospering economy. Being able to outshine her junior coalition partners won her four terms in office, while the SPD, in government for three of those terms, went into an accelerating decline. Today, Merkel’s conservative bloc is still the most popular party in Germany by far, while the SPD has been overtaken by the Greens.

The decline has pushed the SPD into a series of leadership struggles. Every turnover at the top kindled great enthusiasm and hope, only to be followed by deeper disappointment and worse elections results. Nahles hasn’t even been in the job for a year, but she is already feeling the heat, with old-time foes like Gerhard Schröder and Sigmar Gabriel, former SPD chairman and foreign minister, leading the attacks.

The initial success of the “New Social State” and the party’s huge relief over getting rid of Hartz IV mean that Nahles has won time for a breather. But much depends on how the SPD’s new identity drive plays with voters.

The initial reaction seems to be positive. According to a recent ARD Deutschlandtrend poll, most Germans like the fact that both Social Democrats and Christian Democrats are sharpening their profiles. Three out of four Germans said they believed it was getting easier to tell the parties apart and that they approved of this development.

The Real Test: Elections

Beyond the polling data, however, there are real elections looming. The first important landmark is the Bremen state election that coincides with the European Parliament elections on May 26. It’s significant because Bremen—Germany’s smallest state with 650,000 inhabitants—is an old industrial center with a large share of traditional blue-collar workers. In the 1970s, it was hit hard by the shipyard crisis, and even today, unemployment is higher than in any other German state. At 9.8 percent, joblessness in Bremen is three times as high as in Bavaria.

Given the city’s working-class background, the SPD has won every single state election in Bremen since the founding of the Federal Republic in 1949. This time around, however, the party is faced with a double handicap. Apart from the negative trend at the federal level, local SPD incumbent Carsten Sieling is as uncharismatic as they come.

Adding insult to injury, he appears to be unlucky. Recently, Sieling bought the first tickets in a public raffle—a traditional task for Bremen’s mayor. The first was a blank; so was the second. On his third try, Sieling won a glass of jam. “I hope this is not a bad omen for the state elections,” the moderator of the event commented.

Polls have given the opposition Christian Democrats a tiny lead on the SPD in Bremen, but the race is far from being decided. Both friends and foes of Nahles will watch closely to gauge the impact of the “New Social State” on estranged traditional voters.

In terms of numbers, the state elections in Saxony, Brandenburg, and Thuringia in the fall are much more important than tiny Bremen. Yet in Saxony and Thuringia, in particular, the Social Democrats were never really able to take root after German reunification. For many years, the Left Party—a descendant of the former ruling communist party—was very strong here; in recent years, this is where the far-right populist Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) has bagged its biggest gains.

A Changing Landscape

Can the SPD, with its new promises of more money and more respect, win back the hearts of disenchanted eastern voters? Whether it is a “yes” or “no” answer that emerges from the elections in the fall, Germany’s political landscape is likely to change irrevocably.

If Nahles’ “New Social State” can bring back the votes, the SPD will look to do more of the same, i.e. populist programs for more fairness, solidarity, and equality—programs that will have to paid for by taxpayers (“soaking the rich” won’t be enough), business, and through higher debt.

The gap between Christian and Social Democrats will widen. That won’t necessarily mean an early end to Merkel’s last government, but it would make it difficult to agree on initiatives outside the existing coalition agreement. It’s also entirely possible that the SPD, if it believes that its new program works, could use the agreed midterm evaluation to leave the government. The Greens and the Left would become its natural allies.

While such a development would bring a lot of uncertainty, the alternative is worse. If the SPD’s decline continues with this year’s elections, despair will make the party extremely unstable. With a renewed leadership struggle added to ideological rifts, the SPD could even disintegrate altogether.

Among Germans, the country’s oldest political party is affectionately known as “good old auntie SPD.” But a political institution that once seemed as solid and dependable as the four-stroke engine of a Volkswagen beetle may now be reaching the end of the road.

The post The Last Battle appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

© REUTERS/Thilo Schmuelgen

In early November, weeks before the debate erupted in Germany over whether China’s Huawei should be allowed to participate in the country’s next-generation mobile network, I asked a senior Australian official which way he expected Berlin to lean on this critical question.

Australia had already taken the decision to ban Huawei and other Chinese suppliers from its 5G network on national security grounds. The United States, embroiled in an escalating trade war with China, was doing the same. And New Zealand, a small country with close economic ties to China, would soon follow suit, despite fears of a backlash from Beijing.

But in Germany, Europe’s economic powerhouse, there was little or no debate about the security risks associated with Huawei, the Shenzhen-based company that is now the world’s biggest supplier of telecommunications equipment. And the clock was ticking down. Germany’s 5G auctions were scheduled to begin in the spring of 2019.

The Australian official, speaking on condition of anonymity, recalled how Canberra’s decision to ban Chinese suppliers had taken a huge amount of political guts. It had required close collaboration and trust between the Australian government and the country’s intelligence agencies. And it had meant accepting that Australia would suffer short-term―and perhaps longer term―political and economic consequences for angering the Chinese.

“A Systemic Competitor”

In Germany, the official pointed out, the political backdrop looked quite different. The election campaign in 2017 brought no serious debate over the big foreign policy questions facing Germany. Then came the failed coalition talks between Chancellor Angela Merkel’s conservatives, the Greens, and the Free Democrats. Next, the reeling Social Democrats (SPD) had reluctantly stepped into the breach, keeping Merkel and her weary grand coalition in power. But the chancellor had emerged battered and bruised. German politics was consumed by questions about Merkel’s future and distracted by a tedious months-long debate over the fate of Hans-Georg Maassen, the soon-to-be ousted head of Germany’s domestic intelligence agency. Public trust in the intelligence community, never high in Germany, had hit a new low.

“German politics has been preoccupied with itself for over a year,” the Australian official told me at the time. “The strong leadership and political stability required to take big decisions on issues like 5G does not appear to be there.”

Much has changed in the three months since. Merkel staved off a brewing internal revolt by stepping aside as leader of her CDU party, restoring a fragile calm to German politics. Germany’s leading industry lobby made headlines in January with a surprisingly critical paper on China, in which Berlin’s top trading partner was described as a “systemic competitor.”

And finally, the debate over Huawei and 5G has taken off, animated by the early-December arrest in Vancouver of Meng Wanzhou, the Chinese company’s Chief Financial Officer and the daughter of its founder. Barely a day goes by in Berlin now without a conference or closed-door government meeting on the issue.

The Government is Split

But while Germany’s political class has woken from its slumber, it still feels paralyzed. The decision whether to follow the lead of Canberra and Washington and ban Huawei as a supplier for its 5G infrastructure is the first big strategic decision that Berlin will have to take since the dawn of a new era: that of Donald Trump, Xi Jinping, and big data. The experience is deeply unsettling for a country that is not used to making big national security choices of its own, and which is struggling to define its role and interests in a more Hobbesian world of big power competition.

Germany’s leadership would have preferred—as it initially tried to do in the debate over the Nord Stream 2 pipeline—to label the 5G issue an Unternehmenssache, or issue for companies like Deutsche Telekom to decide.  Another favored option would have been to take the heat off the politicians by assigning a ministry, or perhaps Germany’s cyber security authority, the BSI, responsibility for the decision-making process.

Instead a fight has broken out within the government, with China skeptics in the SPD-led foreign ministry pushing for an outright ban of Huawei, and the CDU-led economy ministry pushing back out of concern such a ban would delay the rollout of 5G across Germany, push up cost, and put the suddenly slowing German economy at a competitive disadvantage.

More recently, members of the Bundestag have demanded a say in the matter. Whispering in everyone’s ear are German companies, led by big automakers who have become entirely dependent on the Chinese market. They fear that if Huawei is excluded, their businesses will feel the wrath of the Chinese state.

The Dangers of China‘s Intelligence Law

It is slowly becoming clear that this is a political decision that may have to be made by the chancellor herself. Merkel, known for sitting out contentious debates like this until the direction of travel is clear, has offered few clues about her thinking. On a visit to Japan in early February, she suggested China would have to provide no-spying guarantees if home-grown companies like Huawei were allowed to participate in Germany’s 5G rollout—a statement that even close allies of the chancellor laughed off as horribly naive.

Merkel is a physicist who likes to focus on facts. But the facts are no savior here. Yes, Huawei has been deeply entrenched in the German telecommunications market for years. It has a longtime partnership with Deutsche Telekom, which vouches for its products and professionalism. Huawei is a private, not a state-owned company. And neither the US nor any other government has produced a “smoking gun” that proves Huawei is an espionage risk because of its Chinese roots. The company vigorously denies that it has ever passed on information to the Chinese state or ever would.

And yet, China’s intelligence law from 2017 obliges all Chinese citizens and organizations to support and cooperate with the state in intelligence gathering. If Beijing came knocking, would Huawei really have a choice in the matter?

A confidential paper from the Mercator Institute for Chinese Studies (MERICS) that was circulated to top German government officials in mid-February is clear on this matter. “In light of the overall political and legal environment in China, trusting the Chinese party-state and Chinese companies with not abusing their access to critical infrastructure is unwarranted,” the paper reads.

Can You Trust in a Trust Clause?

Complicating the calculus for Berlin and other European capitals is the complexity of 5G, a transformational leap forward in technology, that will allow data to be streamed about a hundred times faster than 4G and make driverless cars, smart cities, and other large-scale applications of connected devices feasible on a commercial scale. In a November note entitled “The Geopolitics of 5G,” analysts at political risk consultancy Eurasia Group argued that this complexity raised the potential for malicious cyber-attacks exponentially.

Still, Germany’s BSI cyber security watchdog believes the risks of using a Chinese supplier like Huawei for 5G can be managed by introducing tougher vetting procedures, including a certification process for all hardware and software updates. Germany’s interior ministry, which oversees the BSI, wants to add a “trust clause” to Germany’s telecommunications law. Another idea is to keep Huawei out of the core 5G network without excluding them completely―an approach favored by France.

But some German politicians dismiss these ideas as a grey solution to a black-and-white-problem. “In the end, no matter how many technical fixes and no-spy deals the government dreams up, there are no weaselly ways to resolve this,” Reinhard Buetikofer, a Greens member of the European Parliament, told me.

A Call for Courage

Public pressure from the Trump administration is not making it easier on the Europeans, who are desperate to avoid the impression that they are kowtowing to Washington. Late last year, US officials came through Berlin to present their argument against Huawei behind closed doors. But lately, they have abandoned any semblance of discretion, going public with their campaign. Both Vice President Mike Pence and Secretary of State Mike Pompeo have both issued open warnings to Europe about using Huawei in recent weeks.

Iranian Foreign Minister Mohammad Javad Zarif summed up the dilemma for Berlin and other European capitals in his speech at the Munich Security Conference. “If the United States were to come in the course of their fight with China and tell Europe to stop dealing with China, what would you do? Whatever you want to do then, do now, in order to prevent that eventuality. Because a bully will get bully-er if you succumb,” he said.

In an ideal world, Europe’s big countries could agree on a common 5G approach. That would give each of them a degree of cover. Informal talks have been taking place between the Germans, French, and British in recent months in the hopes of aligning their positions, one European diplomat told me. The European Commission is also scrambling after staying silent for months.

“Germany does not want to take a big decision like this on its own,” the diplomat said. “But you can’t delay forever. At some point the courage must be found.”

The post The Huawei Conundrum appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

© REUTERS/John MacDougall/Pool

Germany, along with France, was the driving force behind the initiatives that have given new momentum to the EU’s Common Security and Defense Policy (CSDP) since the summer of 2016. With the introduction of Permanent Structured Cooperation (PESCO) and the European Defense Fund (EDF), Berlin and Paris have succeeded in bringing new life to a policy area that had been deadlocked for decades and written off by many observers. As a result, Defense Minister Ursula von der Leyen was recently able to, with some justification, underline the progress the EU has made towards a “European Defence Union” and the speed it is demonstrating. Without Germany’s involvement, she noted in the German newspaper Handelsblatt, the way would not be paved for a comprehensive change in the understanding of the EU’s, particularly the Commission’s, role in military security.

Nevertheless, Germany consistently faces criticism for not playing a role commensurate with its political clout and the size of its economy, whether it’s because the government still spends too little on defense—and the current US president is not the first one to lament this—or because it doesn’t do enough to make Europe capable of quick and effective military action, a common complaint in Paris. Not ambitious enough, too hesitant, too inflexible, too dogmatic—Berlin hears it over and over again. How can this German approach be explained? How does the German government think European security and defense should be organized? What does Berlin want to achieve with which instruments and how does it define success? Putting on our “German glasses” to look at the CSDP initiatives, the French-created European Intervention Initiative (EI2), and the consequences of Brexit allows us to take stock.

Holding the EU Together

The CSDP has many functions for Germany. For one, the European framework gives domestic legitimacy to Germany’s defense-policy engagement. For large parts of the population, the idea of Germany going it alone is still unthinkable. More than a few Germans are also wary of NATO. They don’t want increased cooperation with the US, especially since Donald Trump took office; instead they advocate close connections with European partners, above all France. Embedding German defense policy in the EU takes the edge off it. In Germany, the EU Army (or the European Army or Army of Europeans, depending on how the politicians calling for it feel on the day) has for years been a popular rhetorical tool for affirming the commitment to defense in an EU framework—in part because its realization is always just beyond the horizon.

Moreover, by further developing the CSDP, the German government is pursuing the goal of tying another band around the EU to hold it together. After the Brexit vote of June 2016, attention turned to finding a joint future project with France, and both governments saw security and defense policy as having the most potential. The strengthening of the CSDP serves, then, as an additional measure to promote the cohesion of EU member states, which can no longer be taken for granted these days.

But it would be wrong to accuse Berlin of having no ambitions for the CSDP beyond favorable rhetoric and EU integration. Germany wants to substantially and sustainably build up the CSDP with “confidence-building intermediate steps” and not “in a hurry,” as von der Leyen puts it. For example, for Berlin it is not about the ability to send large numbers of soldiers to Africa for military intervention as quickly as possible. Rather, Berlin wants to work to improve Europe’s ability to act in the long term, in the hope that the bloc’s decision-making capabilities will improve along with it in the coming years.

Strategy with a Downside

These considerations absolutely make sense. Trust in the EU as a defense actor still has to grow in many member states. Germany does see itself, along with France, as a driver of the CSDP, but it also tries not to leave any country behind—in Berlin one speaks of an “inclusive” CSDP. One reason PESCO is currently being described as a success is that nearly every EU country is taking part in the format, including countries like Poland that initially took a skeptical view. The downside of the strategy, however, is that Germany must face accusations that it is setting up CSDP institutions in order to register their mere existence as a success, rather than using the CSDP to take concrete action against the threats on Europe’s borders.

One thing is often neglected in the public debate in and about Germany: for most German decision-makers, including in the defense ministry and the Bundeswehr, NATO under US leadership remains the key pillar of German defense. This is true (for now) despite the Trump factor in Washington and the “beer tent” speech in which Chancellor Merkel obliquely questioned the US’s reliability. Germany’s leadership of NATO’s Very High Readiness Joint Task Force and its participation in the Baltic air-policing mission and the NATO Battlegroup in Lithuania are often overlooked in the domestic and international debate. The decision-makers do not consider the CSDP an alternative to NATO but rather a means to expand the European footprint in the alliance with the Americans in the long term.

The French Initiative

For Germany, multilateral institutions are the linchpin of the international order. On the other hand, there is little understanding for “more flexible” or “more pragmatic” formats. Attacks on multilateral institutions—which come from all sides, a particularly clear instance being US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo’s speech in Brussels on December 4—are from Berlin’s perspective not to be answered by strengthening ad-hoc coalitions in supranational structures. This explains why Berlin has so far only reluctantly gone along with the French European Intervention Initiative (EI2), which aims at enabling closer cooperation between the armed forces of European states that are willing and able to carry out military missions. In Berlin’s view, however, the goals of the French initiative remain unclear. Germany fears EI2 may even undermine the CSDP because it has been set up outside of EU structures.

That is why Berlin has clearly spoken in favor of moving the EI2 into the EU framework, and sooner rather than later. In the German understanding of the European security architecture, there is no place for efforts involving only a few select countries. Concerns about fragmentation and the weakening of multilateral organizations in which Germany has invested so much capital, political as well as real, are too great. This is even true for the special relationship with France: While Berlin subscribes to the idea of a Franco-German “motor” in the CSDP, the bilateral Aachen Treaty does not go appreciably beyond the existing multilateral commitments.

However, in their efforts to hold the EU together, many in Berlin overlook the fact that the EI2 can make a strong contribution to Europe’s ability to act—and that it does not necessarily conflict with the CSDP. Admittedly, it was difficult to grasp the ambition and scope of the initiative in the first weeks and months after President Macron announced it. But in its current form, the EI2 is bound by sensible and clear limits: it is not the silver bullet of European defense, but it is well-placed to fill gaps, for example in terms of Europe’s common analysis of threats. What’s more, it includes the United Kingdom.

Brexit and Its Consequences

Berlin’s understanding of the CSDP has an effect on the German approach to security and defense cooperation with Britain after Brexit, both in a European and a bilateral context. The German government understands the CSDP to be inwardly inclusive but outwardly exclusive. As with the entire Brexit process, the feeling is that, with regard to the CSDP, there must be a significant difference between EU member states and third countries. It is a matter of not making mere cooperation with the EU appear as attractive as EU membership. Even though Germany is seeking to create a close and constructive relationship with Britain after Brexit, from Berlin’s point of view the goal cannot be to duplicate the level of cooperation that takes place in the EU framework.

In the Brexit negotiations, the unity of the remaining 27 member states has always been the top priority for Berlin. Therefore the government has avoided undermining the divorce process with bilateral agreements and creating the impression of a “special relationship” between Germany and the UK. Even the “Joint Vision Statement” on closer cooperation on security and defense policy was only released after some hesitation, while a corresponding and nearly-complete declaration on foreign policy is still parked in a desk drawer. In order to limit the space for security cooperation outside of the EU and NATO (and the UN), neither statement has objectives as ambitious as those in the Lancaster House treaties between France and Britain.

On top of that, many in Berlin argue that real progress in the CSDP has only been possible since Britain voted to leave. They see Brexit as more of a liberation than a loss. To prove their point, they point to the obstructionist British stance that for years prevented the CSDP from reaching the agreements it has since the Brexit vote, for example on a European headquarters for EU missions. From this perspective, keeping Britain too close risks allowing a Trojan horse into the EU. The argument that cutting the cord to the greatest military power in Europe could lead to problems in the quest for autonomy is not catching on. Nor does Berlin really fear the frictions that could arise when it comes to cooperation with Britain in the NATO framework.

From a German point of view, Britain should take part in the CSDP within the framework of third-country cooperation, as is already common practice. It’s important for Berlin that political control and decision-making authority remain EU competencies if Britain takes part in PESCO projects on a case-by-case basis. With regard to the European Defense Fund, the approach is that no EU money should flow to third countries and that Britain should participate financially in the fund. There is a long-term interest in keeping in check the Commission’s decision-making authority over European arms policy should the Brussels executive act against German interests.

However, the German position is not yet set in stone on every point, and there are certainly different positions in the relevant ministries. Thus the way Brexit plays out will influence Germany’s position. It is already clear that, in the course of the Brexit process, much of the trust in the British negotiating partner has faded away.

Form Follows Function

The creation of a “European Defense Union” serves in Germany’s eyes to create a connective framework in which as many EU member states as possible can come together and cooperate. Only in the long term is it an instrument for strengthening Europe’s ability to defend itself, which Berlin continues to see as something guaranteed by NATO. The German government has been clear that it doesn’t want any parallel structures or incentives–neither bilaterally nor as “coalitions of the willing”—that could undermine EU institutions.

But since, at the moment, there is no shared understanding among all the EU member states about which EU foreign policy interests are the most important and must be defended, member states will inevitably and increasingly set up ad hoc formats in which smaller groups of EU and NATO countries can act directly. There is of course the danger that the supranational and binding power of CSDP will be subverted. But the risk of creating EU formats incapable of action is even greater.

After all, every format in which Europeans work together on defense policy strengthens Europe’s ability to act, whether through improved interoperability or the harmonization of threat analyses. Berlin should not only support the EI2 but also push harder to expand cooperation between the EU and NATO. The European security situation demands all hands on deck.

If the EU, as a complement to NATO, is indeed to become an organization that “produces” European security, it also needs to offer attractive “docking mechanisms” to those countries that are central to European security, even if they are no longer EU member states. If attractive participation mechanisms for strategic partners—like the British, the Norwegians, in some cases even the Turks—are not created soon, the CSDP won’t be able to live up to its promises. An “inclusive” CSDP is only effective with the inclusion of Britain.

So Germany should get more involved in EU negotiations about third-country participation in the CSDP. With regard to industrial cooperation in the field of defense, Berlin is less dogmatic than, say, Paris. The Brexit negotiations haven’t yet reached the stage of “future relations.” But on the EDF, for example, the EU is already agreeing on directives that stipulate the “strict conditions” under which third countries can take part in EU-promoted defense capabilities projects. In the next few years, member states will have to weigh security and defense interests, economic interests, and the union’s security of supply in a crisis. On this issue, Berlin should join the Netherlands or Scandinavian countries to speak out for the unproblematic participation of like-minded third countries in EU defense capabilities projects.

With regard to British participation in CSDP decision-making and the operational participation of British associations, it is understandable that Berlin has doubts about the sincerity of Britain’s newfound enthusiasm for the CSDP. Berlin should, though, give Britain the opportunity to prove that its offer to become an “ambitious” CSDP partner is a serious one.

At the heart of Berlin’s efforts is the goal of making the EU into an international organization capable of action on defense. This ambition for the distant future does not, however, meet the challenges of the current threat situation. The pressure on Europe is acute. The CSDP has to be able to deliver on its promises if it is to to be effective against the dangers Europe is confronted with—especially in areas where NATO is unwilling or incapable of action.

The post All Hands on Deck appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

© REUTERS/Michaela Rehle

In May 2010, German President Horst Köhler gave a radio interview about the Bundeswehr deployment in Afghanistan. He argued that Germany, as “a country of our size, with a focus on exports and thus a reliance on foreign trade, must be aware that … military deployments are necessary in an emergency to protect our interests.” For Köhler, this was an issue of securing free trade routes and preventing regional instability—and thereby ultimately securing jobs and incomes in Germany. Hopefully, he added: “This all needs to be discussed and I believe we are not on such a bad path.”

Köhler would soon know better.

Rather than sober discussion, he faced a volley of immoderate criticism. The president of Germany, his critics said, was pursuing “economic wars,” calling for a “breach of the constitution.” A constitutional jurist recognized an “imperial tone,” reminiscent of the arguments for defending Britain’s naval supremacy in the 19th century. Köhler, deeply offended, resigned in a huff, an overreaction by a politically overtaxed president. But the episode also documents the immaturity of the German foreign policy discussion.

Köhler had put forward a simple, if crudely formulated, argument for using foreign policy to uphold economic interests. For his successor Joachim Gauck, the moral of the story was clear. In his most important foreign policy speech, five years ago at the Munich Security Conference, Gauck made the wishy-washy term “responsibility” the focal point. Germany had to take on “more responsibility” in the world. Then-Foreign Minister Frank-Walter Steinmeier and Defense Minister Ursula von der Leyen added their voices to the responsibility choir. Since then, “more responsibility” has become the gold standard in the foreign policy debate. Even Chancellor Angela Merkel, who was sure to keep her distance from Gauck’s ode to responsibility in 2014, called in her 2019 New Year’s Address for Germany to “take on more responsibility in its own interest.”

Responsibility sounds noble. No one will be accused of speaking in imperial tones or practicing crude power politics. Holding forth about responsibility has become the magic potion of German foreign policy. One employs the term to spread a diffuse feeling of well-being in times of geopolitical turbulence—and thereby dodges unpleasant questions about the difficult trade-offs between competing interests and about the search for the right instruments. That’s why we should say goodbye to the term “responsibility”—and argue openly about conflicting interests and the means to assert them.

Opposing Interests

That is not to say that Germany’s foreign policy interests are a secret: they are peace and security, prosperity, and democracy and human rights. One can invoke this triad in every soapbox speech—it’s almost as comforting as “responsibility”. But it doesn’t become relevant until interests compete with one another and the tools to achieve them are disputed. Only then is the quality of the foreign policy discussion revealed.

For world-champion exporter Germany, this is often the case when economic interests are assessed against the objectives of security and democracy and human rights. This is especially clear in relation to China, Germany’s most important trade partner. For a long time, Berlin acted under the assumption that Germany and China were perfectly compatible economic partners, that Beijing would continue to open up politically because of its global economic integration, and China did not present a serious challenge for German security. These assumptions proved false.

China has positioned itself as Germany’s main economic competitor and is aggressively pursuing its security interests. At the same time, its political system is becoming more and more authoritarian, and in many areas the human-rights situation has become dramatically worse. In this respect, the German strategy of pursuing ever-closer economic integration with Beijing and calling China a “strategic partner” looks highly questionable. Speeches about “more German responsibility” won’t help, but a more sober appraisal would.

In the short-term, German companies continue to make good money and a significant portion of their earnings in China; in the medium-term, they see themselves falling behind state capitalism. It is therefore vital to reduce German businesses’ dependence on China, take measures to protect the German economy from certain types of foreign investment, and strengthen domestic policy on innovation and industry. So far so good.

Things gets more controversial when it comes to security policy questions, like the role of Chinese tech firms in critical infrastructure like high-speed 5G mobile networks, as the Huawei case shows. Here there is a clear tension between economic and security interests. Huawei delivers affordable, modern technology for developing 5G networks. Yet installing Huawei technology also entails major security risks. In a conflict, the Chinese party-state could obligate Huawei to sabotage Germany. So Berlin has to make a decision. If national security is taken seriously, the answer has to be to bar Chinese tech firms from providing critical infrastructure. The precondition would be to have a debate focused on Germany and Europe’s claim to technological assertiveness.

Short on Solidarity

Competing interests also have to be evaluated in other fields. What is the right balance between advocating economic interests and standing up for democracy and human rights? Here we should explicitly understand the latter as interests and leave behind this talk of “interests versus values”. For example, Germany has to take a stand when it comes to Canada’s conflicts with Saudi Arabia and China. Ottawa is one of the capitals Berlin is courting for Foreign Minister Heiko Maas’s “alliance of multilateralists.” The alliance, according to Maas, is supposed to “show solidarity when international law is flouted on someone else’s doorstep.” China holding two Canadian citizens hostage as bargaining chips since December 2018 is a clear case of this. The party-state imprisoned the Canadians after Ottawa had arrested the daughter of Huawei’s founder on the basis of a US arrest warrant. But in the aftermath, Chancellor Merkel avoided taking a clear position in favor of Canada. Nor did Finance Minister Olaf Scholz mention the issue in official communications during his January trip to China.

It’s embarrassing enough that the German government withheld solidarity when Saudi Arabia, upset about critical comments about the human rights situation from the Canadian ambassador, overran Canada with threats and retaliatory measures. All too often, authoritarian regimes can rely on every country’s economic selfishness. Only when democrats stand together can they effectively defend themselves against the encroachment of autocracies like China and Saudi Arabia.

Another consideration is the extent to which Germany is willing to jeopardize its economic interests in order to stand up for human rights. The brutal oppression of Muslims in Xinjiang (with up to a million people in camps) is moving ever closer to the focal point of the public debate. Beyond the ritualized formats like the Human Rights Dialogue, how clear a position does the German political world want to take here?

Undeclared Interests

It’s also damaging for the foreign policy debate when interests are undeclared, or false interests are put forward. Nord Stream 2 is a prominent example of that. For a long time, German decision-makers, including the chancellor, dismissed the deal with the Kremlin for a new gas pipeline as an economic matter—knowing quite well that they were dealing with a highly explosive geopolitical issue. This smokescreen strategy has done enormous damage to German foreign policy. To Germany’s central European neighbors that vehemently oppose the project, like Poland, Berlin appears to be a calculating power player, one pursuing a “Germany First” strategy with marked cards. And yet there is no shortage of arguments for why the pipeline is in Germany’s interest and how Europe’s independence in energy policy can be maintained with Nord Stream 2.

Another example is the issue of refugees and migration. The political scene in Berlin is happy to put the label of “fighting the causes of migration” on every possible development and economic measure in Africa. Now, many African states are important growth markets. And measures to intensify economic cooperation are, for that reason, in Germany’s interest. But it is false advertising to sell these measures with the promise of reducing migration numbers. Development economists expect that the number of people with the ability and desire to migrate will initially increase as the level of economic development improves.

A Realistic View

There is also no clear communication of German interests with regard to the biggest foreign mission of the Bundeswehr, in Afghanistan. The population was initially sold three interests: the defense of their freedom, the promotion of human rights and democracy, and alliance solidarity with the US (as well as support for a UN mandate). There isn’t much left of the goals of freedom and democracy; yet German decision-makers have hardly communicated this so far.

But nothing demonstrates the weakness of the debate around German interests more than the discussion about nuclear weapons. Germany is confronted with an existential question here: how do we guarantee our security if the US nuclear umbrella starts to crumble? How do we react to the end of the INF treaty? From large sections of the political spectrum one hears cheap, convenient answers. Annalena Baerbock, the co-chairperson of the Green party, has called not only for the withdrawal of all US nuclear weapons from Germany, but also for Germany to pull out of NATO’s nuclear sharing arrangements. To the question of how she wanted to prevent Germany being vulnerable to blackmail from aggressive nuclear powers like Russia, she had no answer. Foreign Minister Maas is correct to back arms control. But one can only press ahead with arms control if one makes realistic assumptions about the interests of other parties. Mass recently said, “at the end of the day, everyone wants a world without nuclear weapons”—a daring thesis in view of the decision makers in Beijing, Moscow, or Islamabad. We need not only a realistic view of our own interests of but also of those of other countries.

The post Enough Babble appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.

© REUTERS/Fabrizio Bensch

The thirty wonderful years—les trente glorieuses—was the name the French demographer Jean Fourastié gave to the years of economic boom France enjoyed between 1945 and 1975. The term could have been applied to West Germany during that time as well. But the description is far more applicable to the first three decades of the Berlin Republic. Between 1989 and 2019, after the fall of the Berlin Wall and the disintegration of the Soviet Union, the two Germanies that had been nervously eyeing each other across the Cold War front lines became one flourishing European hegemon. Those historically unique gains in prosperity, power, and prestige are the real German post-war miracle.

But there are now plenty of signs that this miracle is coming to an end—perhaps even with a cyclical downturn of the global economy ahead—and that the Germans are entirely unprepared for it. What has happened? What does it mean for Germany? And what must be done?

Strained and At Risk

Europe—the continent that over the last 70 years has stood like no other for overcoming war and violence with the help of law and diplomacy—finds itself in 2019 a staging ground once more for the competition of the great powers. And this at a moment when the region is doing worse than it has in a long time. The crises of the last decade—from the global financial crisis (2008/09), which quickly became a eurozone crisis, to the Ukraine crisis (2014) to the refugee crisis (2015) and the Brexit referendum (2016)—have weakened and divided Europe. For the first time in post-war history, the fight over the future of the European project is not just about the “when” and “how” of deepening or expanding the European Union, but rather—at least for a few member states—about whether the clock of European integration ought not to be turned back altogether.

There are also alarming signs of paralysis and strain emerging within our seemingly sophisticated European nation-states. It is plausible to read Brexit as a failure of devolution in Britain; the rise of the gilets jaunes is rooted in part in the vast distance between France’s civil society and an overbearing executive branch driven by a technocratic elite; many Germans’ anger is sparked by an enormous backlog in infrastructure investment. Yet nothing bears more potential for conflict in Europe today than questions of identity. Who may call him- or herself a citizen—and who may not? Here the legacy of colonialism, the follow-on consequences of the fall of the Berlin Wall and reunification, and the unresolved issues of migration and the refugee crisis make for a toxic combination, worsened by fears of a new economic downturn.

All this is fertile soil for extremist populists who claim the exclusive right to represent the “silent majority” or “the people.” They say they want to take on both elites and outsiders, but their real enemies are the liberal values, secular modernity and representative democracy they revile as the “system.” They snare anxious voters with promises of “taking back control” and freedom of action (the key word here is “sovereignty”) by radically reducing complexity (“close the borders,” “Merkel must go”). They systematically attack institutions (courts, parliaments) and intermediary organizations (parties, the media) as well as the norms and taboos of our constitutional order, mobilizing the street just as aggressively and deftly as they do social media.

At the same time, populists are looking for a way to capture Europe’s institutions—with the goal of undermining them. They have had the greatest success in Budapest and Warsaw, where illiberal authoritarians are in power and working to cement their dominance through constitutional change. (In Poland at least, a strong civil society is making every effort to defend itself.) And as if that were not enough, Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán and Italian Interior Minister Matteo Salvini have created a so-called “movement” of right-wing European parties, with which they want to storm the European Parliament at the elections in May in order to hollow out the EU from the inside.

A Hostile Environment

Europe’s neighborhood has also become more unstable. In Turkey, a NATO member, President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan is ruling with an ever harder hand. In eastern Ukraine, Russia is waging a war that has so far claimed more than 13,000 victims. In Syria, the dictator Bashar al-Assad is successfully fighting his own population, with Russian help. And in Moscow and Beijing, Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping have consolidated their power. All across the world, authoritarians are questioning the leadership of the West and the rules of the international order.

Nevertheless, Europe cannot simply turn itself into a fortress and seal itself off from the world. That would be tantamount to suicide, as its prosperity and security are existentially dependent on the deep integration of European states with each other and with the global economy. Yet Russia and China have become adept at instrumentalizing the old and new elements of globalization—from physical infrastructure and trading hubs to cyberspace, mobile networks, and social media—against Europe, including through strategic asset investments and buyouts.

Moscow’s attempts to interfere have an especially destructive effect on the influence of the US in Europe and on the transformative effect of the EU beyond its borders. Beijing’s perspective is somewhat different: European coherence, at least in terms of a functioning trade and infrastructure area, is key to its long-term plans for worldwide economic expansion. But both have become active, even aggressive players in Europe. And both know very well how to crack European unity whenever it helps them achieve their goals.

The “America First” Dilemma

But Europe’s greatest dilemma in this new era is “America First:” Europe’s protector, and for many decades its closest friend and partner, has mutated under President Donald Trump into a “rogue superpower” (in Robert Kagan’s words), a power that is “active, powerful, and entirely out for itself.” The 2017 US National Security Strategy announced the end of the “global community” and coldly replaced it with the paradigm of great power competition. The trade war with the EU has been deferred, not cancelled; and the sanctions guillotine is still hanging in the air.

US Secretary of State Mike Pompeo’s very first Europe speech in December 2018 in Brussels finally made it clear (if confirmation was needed) that it is not just the president who sees the EU as an enemy. Pompeo asked if the EU was still serving the interests of its citizens, adding that international institutions that no longer serve their purpose should “be reformed or eliminated.” What’s more, this US administration has a noticeable weakness for Europe’s autocrats. Trump and his comrades-in-arms call that healthy national pride. But it’s more accurate to call it ethno-chauvinism.

Washington is entirely justified in asking its allies to take more responsibility for Europe’s security. It’s just that the US government’s foreign and security policy has now become a risk factor for our fragile continent even when it’s not specifically directed at Europe. The volatility and incoherence of Trump’s Middle East, Russia, and Asia policies, the threats to pull out of Syria and Afghanistan, the withdrawal from the Iran deal and the INF treaty, the hostility to multilateral institutions—all of this destabilizes Europe.

Admittedly, this administration has also demonstratively strengthened the eastern flank of NATO. Diplomats report that there is a still a lot of trust and cooperation at the working level. But how much is that really worth when Trump simultaneously courts Vladimir Putin and rarely misses an opportunity to question the principle of collective defensive enshrined in Article 5 of the NATO Treaty? In the meantime many high-ranking officials who value allies—including then-Secretary of Defense James Mattis and Assistant Secretary of State for Europe A. Wess Mitchell—have left the government. And given the government’s fixation on China, its perceived main adversary and nemesis, some in Washington are anxiously asking if Trump might not be capable of conceding to the Kremlin, as the price for its allegiance, a sphere of influence in Europe.

There are no signs that Europe has found a common answer to this new situation. London, Paris, and Berlin have, in a rare act of harmony, come together to throw their weight against the termination of the Iran deal, but without success. Berlin has managed to hold together the consensus about Russia sanctions, with some difficulty—but what is needed is a real European effort to push back against China and Russia’s energetic attempts to undermine and divide the continent. In the Middle East, in Africa, and in Asia, Europe is at best present in homeopathic doses.

Baffled and Bereft

The geostrategic shift from multilateral cooperation to great power competition affects Germany like no other country in Europe. After 1949, the Bonn Republic had attempted to answer the “German question” once and for all: through voluntary self-containment in multilateral frameworks (notably the United Nations, the EU, and NATO), as well as by anchoring itself to the West. Two factors made this possible: West Germany’s willingness to atone and America’s decision to take Europe under its nuclear umbrella and thereby guarantee its security. That, in turn, allowed Germany to concentrate on its economic transformation and the simultaneous development of a generous welfare state. In brief, Germany owes not only its security to the US, but also its social peace.

After the fall of the Berlin Wall, and in the course of EU and NATO expansion, a completely new trading sphere opened up for Germany in Eastern Europe. The new mobility of people, goods, and data created a deep interdependence of the German economy with its neighbors. In terms of its security, Germany found itself, for the first time in its recent history, “encircled by friends” (in the words of the former Defense Minister Volker Rühe). Yet this comfortable security buffer was created by exporting its geopolitical risks to the European periphery.

It is no surprise that in the fateful year of 1989, the thesis of the end of history won more acclaim in Germany than anywhere else. Germans celebrated the idea that the West had achieved victory through the worldwide convergence of systems toward democratic transformation and an increasingly rules-based international order. We were, after all, the champions of atonement. So we enjoyed the peace dividend to the fullest.

A Glum Perplexity

All this has turned the Berlin Republic into a de-facto “shaping power” over the past thirty years. In other words, within the fragile European ecosystem, Germany is what Americans call “an 800-pound gorilla”—the animal that makes the trees tremble just by rolling over in its sleep. From the point of view of most of its neighbors, Germans are, well, the Americans of Europe—urgently needed, but also feared for their inconsiderateness, including the inability to recognize the need to be considerate.

And it’s not clear that we are even aware just how much we have benefited from the US and Europe, or that we would be willing to acknowledge that fact and draw appropriate conclusions. We sing the praises of normative universalism but are absolutely ready to swerve away from our convictions in pursuit of our national interest. We see ourselves as the engine of European integration, but when it comes down to it, German governments regularly hit the brakes. And we persistently refuse to acknowledge that German decisions—in the controversy over the gas pipeline Nord Stream 2, in the eurozone or refugee crises—have consequences (and costs) well beyond our borders.

In 2014, in the aftermath of the financial crisis and under the impression of Russian aggression in Ukraine, there was an attempt to engage more with the world and make German foreign and security policy “faster, more decisive, and more substantial,” as then-president Joachim Gauck promised. Five years later, this energetic optimism seems to have given way to glum perplexity. The problem is that for the West’s challengers—the enemies of a rules-based world order and the European project, those who scorn representative democracy and open society—Germany is the main foe, precisely because it is the fulcrum and linchpin of European stability. Unfortunately, the US president seems to share this antipathy.

What Needs to Be Done

Germany’s options in this significantly darker strategic environment are limited. A retreat behind walls is unrealistic for a country that borders two seas and nine countries. The temptations of the “Greater Switzerland” model—a Berlin Republic which does business with all sides from an equidistant middle location and fastidiously avoids spoiling its relationship with any greater power—are on display daily in German debates over sanctions, gas pipelines, and mobile networks. But that, too, would be a dead end for Germany. Its fate is existentially bound up with Europe’s; to support and protect it is in Germany’s own best interest.

This means, first, that Germany needs to get its own house in order. For—and this is the lesson of the populist wave—without an effective and legitimate domestic order, there is no effective and legitimate foreign and security policy.

Second, Germany’s power requires us to take on greater responsibility for Europe. Our neighbors’ criticism (and yes, that of the US) of our budget surpluses, our defense spending, and our energy policy may be motivated by self-interest; but that makes it no less justified. In all three (and other) cases there are pragmatic compromise solutions. Our government could reduce its budget surpluses by spending more on infrastructure; it could spend its defense euros more effectively with greater European cooperation in armaments production; and it could address many of its neighbors’ deep concerns about Nord Stream 2 by fully applying EU competition law to the project and finally modernizing Ukrainian transit pipelines. To keep acting as if there are no alternatives will only further isolate us.

Third, a policy of diplomatic dialogue is greatly enhanced by the ability to enforce one’s interests if necessary. That includes the ability to apply military force. Even Germany’s closest friends think its hard-power prudery is sanctimonious. But deterrence is so much more than a credible threat of force. It also, crucially, means never taking issues off the table preemptively, neither sanctions, nor the expansion of the EU or of NATO. It requires the ability to ward off Russian and Chinese interference and defend liberal democracies against their enemies.

Fourth, how to deal with America? Germany’s policy vis-à-vis the United States will have to be schizophrenic for the foreseeable future. It will have to be based on two contradictory insights: that Trumpism goes beyond Trump; and that America is, as the midterm elections showed, more than Trump. So Europe and Germany must become stronger and more independent; but European “strategic autonomy” from the US is an illusion. Europe continues to need America by its side, not least when it comes to responding to the Chinese challenge. But the US needs Europe, too. If the EU wants to be taken seriously by America, it has to put up resistance where necessary—and cooperate where possible. Perhaps Europe can learn from House Speaker Nancy Pelosi here?

The fact that Berlin became a non-permanent member of the UN Security Council on January 1, 2019, will put its foreign and security policy in the spotlight. A “new Ostpolitik” that takes into account Eastern European sensibilities is all to the good—but what if it is counteracted by our energy policy? How much is Foreign Minister Heiko Maas’s “alliance of multilateralists” worth if we don’t stand by Canada and protest the hostage-taking of its citizens in China, or if we ignore the murder of the Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi? In the end, legitimacy—that is, the willingness to stand up for one’s values and convictions—is the most precious power resource a democracy has.

NB. A longer version of this article is available on the Brookings website.

The post The Unready Hegemon appeared first on Berlin Policy Journal - Blog.