This Monday in December 2025 was one of them. Beneath a low, leaden sky, amid the whir of helicopter patrols and the sealed off streets of the government quarter, the German capital became the stage for a geopolitical drama which Friedrich Merz clearly intended to be the director of. As night fell, a photograph posted on X would freeze the moment in time: fourteen leaders, among them Volodymyr Zelensky, gathered around the chancellor, beneath a caption at once solemn and almost incantatory: “The time of peace has come.” At the center sat chancellor Merz, gaze steady, hands resting on the negotiating table like a chess player after a decisive move.
Yet behind this carefully composed image between the glare of the spotlights and the echo of official statements a deeper question emerged: does Europe truly need a strong Germany?
The question is anything but trivial. Germany, by virtue of its history, its economic weight, and its geographic position, has always been an ambiguous giant on the European continent. Too weak, and Europe loses its balance; too powerful, and the ghosts of the past resurface. With his diplomatic activism and unprecedented rearmament plan, Friedrich Merz has reopened a long dormant debate: after the traumas of two world wars, after decades of restraint under Helmut Kohl and then Angela Merkel, can and should Europe accept the return of an assertive, even dominant Germany?
BERLIN, STAGE OF AN AMBITIOUS AND UNSETTLING RETURN
Since the end of the Merkel era, Germany had been searching for its voice. Friedrich Merz, elected in May 2025, promised to restore it. Gone were the murmurs; declarations would now take their place. Gone, too, the carefully calibrated caution of his predecessor, replaced by a more forthright, more visible, almost theatrical diplomacy.
The summit on Ukraine, held in Berlin transformed into a diplomatic fortress, was meant to serve as proof: Germany was no longer a secondary actor, but the pivot of a Europe in crisis. Angela Merkel herself, in a rare public compliment, hailed Merz’s arrival as the return of German charm and voice. Coming from the Iron Chancellor, the remark sounded like a consecration.
And yet, the walls of Brussels have resisted Berlin’s newfound momentum. Barely had the family photo circulated than the limits of this ambition became clear. Mercosur, the vast Latin American market courted by Europe for decades, once again slipped through Merz’s fingers. Why? Because the European Union, torn between economic interests and environmental concerns, chose to postpone the agreement rather than yield to German pressure. “Merz has failed for now,” headlined Tagesspiegel, that “for now” capturing both the hope and the fragility of his position.
Beyond trade negotiations, however, a more fundamental issue looms: does Europe benefit from Germany imposing itself as leader? Supporters of a strong Germany argue that a fragmented continent, facing an aggressive Russia, a rising China, and an uncertain America, needs an engine. Without Berlin, who will carry Europe’s voice? Skeptics counter that Germany, even democratized and pacified, remains a colossus with feet of clay. Its history, demographic weight, and economic influence make it an unwieldy partner. Who can guarantee that an overly powerful Germany will not one day slide into unilateralism?
Then there is another promise, equally symbolic: using frozen Russian assets to finance Ukraine’s reconstruction. A bold, almost revolutionary idea, embraced by Atlanticist hawks but blocked by the legal and political reservations of European partners. In a matter of months, Merz learned a harsh lesson: even a powerful Germany cannot impose its will without compromise. And perhaps that is a good thing. Europe, after all, was built on balance among nations, not on the hegemony of one.
Yet Germany’s renewed centrality is nowhere more tangible than in the Balkans, where its influence is neither rhetorical nor abstract, but concrete, measurable, and structural. Germany remains the largest single investor and trading partner for Serbia, employing more than 80,000 people through German owned firms as of late 2025, a position Berlin has increasingly leveraged to press Belgrade toward normalization with Kosovo. In Bosnia and Herzegovina, Germany has reinforced its role as a security guarantor through its expanded contribution to EUFOR Althea, whose mandate was renewed in November 2025 with explicit German support, while Berlin remains one of the principal diplomatic actors sustaining the fragile post Dayton equilibrium. Germany is also a leading external supporter of Kosovo’s institutions and public finances, exercising decisive influence in coordination with EU and NATO frameworks.
Beyond security, Berlin has reasserted leadership over the Western Balkans’ European trajectory. In 2025, Germany spearheaded efforts within the European Union to revive accession momentum for North Macedonia and Albania, while tying Serbia’s and Bosnia’s progress more explicitly to judicial reforms and alignment with EU foreign policy, including sanctions on Russia. Energy strategy further deepens this presence: German backed interconnectors and development bank financing now underpin efforts to reduce regional dependence on Russian gas via routes through Greece and Croatia, alongside major investments in renewable energy infrastructure in Albania and Montenegro. In Sarajevo and Pristina, Germany is increasingly perceived as the decisive European power. In Belgrade, the same influence is often viewed as conditionality imposed by a dominant actor. The Balkans thus crystallize the German paradox in its purest form: stability achieved through leadership, but shadowed by resentment and historical unease.
UKRAINE, OR THE CRUSADE OF A DIVISIVE CHANCELLOR
If one dossier embodies both Friedrich Merz’s commitment and the risks he runs, it is Ukraine. Here, there is no half measure. From the moment he took office, he made Germany Europe’s foremost supporter of Kyiv: deliveries of heavy weapons, massive financial aid, and above all, unambiguous rhetoric. Russia, he argues, is not waging a conventional war, but a hybrid war against Germany itself, an insidious assault combining cyberattacks, disinformation, and energy pressure.
In response, Merz launched the largest rearmament program since the end of the Cold War. The Bundeswehr, long underfunded, is to become Europe’s leading conventional force, with a budget of 83 billion euros and the reinstatement of compulsory military service. A historic shift.
Yet this rearmament, however necessary in the face of the Russian threat, stirs anxiety. In Eastern Europe, countries like Poland see it as a security guarantee. In Southern Europe, others, France and Italy among them, wonder whether an overly militarized Germany might destabilize the continent. And what of the Germans themselves? A segment of public opinion, scarred by the horrors of the twentieth century, fears excessive militarization. Germany, after all, has not always been a bulwark against war; it has often been its instigator.
Merz harbors no such doubts. He has created a National Security Council, multiplied visits to Kyiv, and displayed unwavering support for Zelensky. But History whispers a warning: when Germany arms itself, Europe trembles. In 1914 and in 1939, German rearmament plunged the continent into catastrophe. Today, circumstances are different, but mistrust lingers.
ISRAEL, OR THE DELICATE ART OF BALANCE AGAINST A TROUBLED MEMORY
If Ukraine is the theater of Merz’s firmness, Israel is that of his dilemmas. Because of its past, Germany maintains a unique almost sacred relationship with the Jewish state. Yet when war erupted in Gaza in 2025, Merz found himself navigating between two perils: supporting a strategic ally without alienating an increasingly critical public opinion.
Initially, he suspended arms deliveries, a symbolic gesture quickly reversed after the ceasefire. “A friend,” Israeli Foreign Minister Gideon Saar called him during Merz’s visit to Jerusalem. A friend, but not a blind ally. The chancellor reaffirmed the unbreakable ties between the two countries while cautiously acknowledging the existence of moral dilemmas.
This dossier exposes another tension: Germany feels morally compelled, because of its past, to support Israel. But how far can that obligation go? How far can a Europe that claims neutrality and balance follow Berlin on such treacherous ground? The issue is all the more sensitive given that, since the Shoah, Germany has made its relationship with Israel a cornerstone of its diplomacy. Yet in a world of multiplying conflicts, is unconditional alliance still tenable?
THE SANSAL AFFAIR, OR A SILENCE THAT SPEAKS VOLUMES
While Merz busied himself with major international issues, another drama unfolded in the shadows: that of Boualem Sansal, the Franco Algerian writer sentenced in Algeria for offending the president. His eventual release owed nothing to the Chancellor. It was German President Frank Walter Steinmeier who quietly mediated, securing a pardon without fanfare.
Why did Merz remain on the sidelines? Because human rights, on the agenda of a leader obsessed with geopolitics, ranked behind Ukraine, Mercosur, and China. Or perhaps because, in a Europe where democratic values are under strain, Germany has other priorities.
Whatever the reason, the episode reveals an uncomfortable truth: a Germany overly focused on grand strategy risks neglecting the causes that once defined its moral standing, chief among them the defense of freedoms. And this is where the shoe pinches. Europe needs a strong Germany, but it also needs a moral Germany. Under Merz, the balance is tilting dangerously toward realism.
Germany from below, or the forgotten challenge of an impatient chancellor.
If Friedrich Merz shines on the world stage, at home doubts abound. Polls are unforgiving: only 23 percent of Germans approve of his performance. Why such rejection? Because diplomacy, however dazzling, does not feed families. The German economy, once Europe’s engine, is sputtering. Recession looms, inflation erodes purchasing power, and the far right, fueled by anti-elite rhetoric, gains ground in the eastern Länder.
“He needs domestic victories,” sums up political scientist Uwe Jun of Trier. A chancellor, however gifted diplomatically, cannot afford to neglect his people. Germans are waiting for answers on energy, pensions, immigration. Yet Merz, captivated by the grand European game, sometimes seems distant from these concerns.
Here lies the true danger. A Germany strong abroad but fragile at home is a vulnerable Germany. If Merz fails to revive the economy and ease social tensions, his geopolitical project will collapse under its own weight. Europe does not need a giant with feet of clay.
FRANCE, INDISPENSABLE PARTNER OR WARY RIVAL
One actor is still missing from this tableau: France. Paris and Berlin have long formed the founding couple of Europe. Under Merz, however, the relationship is more complex. Germany seeks to lead; France, with its experience and networks, tempers, adjusts, balances.
Consider frozen Russian assets. Merz wants to deploy them for Ukraine; Macron hesitates, wary of legal consequences. Who is right? Perhaps neither. But one thing is certain: without France, Germany risks isolation; without Germany, France loses influence. Together, they can weigh against Russia, China, and the United States. Separately, they weaken.
History bears this out. In the 1990s, Germany’s hasty recognition of Croatia exacerbated the Yugoslav war. France, through mediation, helped restore balance. Today, the pattern repeats. Merz’s activism needs Paris to avoid the mistakes of the past.
The question remains: does Europe need a strong Germany, or a balanced Franco German duo? A Germany alone, however well intentioned, inspires fear. A France alone, however diplomatic, lacks weight. Together, they embody the equilibrium that has long been Europe’s strength.
CHANCELLOR AT HISTORY’S CROSSROADS
Friedrich Merz embodies a Germany in motion, torn between its quest for power and its inner demons. He has restored his country’s voice on the world stage. But will he listen to those, at home and across Europe, who expect more than grand speeches?
His fate, and that of Europe, will be decided on three fronts. Abroad, where he must prove that Germany can be strong without being domineering. At home, where he must convince Germans that his vision serves their interests as well. And with partners, where he must accept that Europe’s strength lies in balance, not in the hegemony of one.
Germany is back. The question is whether Europe truly needs it, and whether it is ready to accept the risks that come with it. For a Germany that grows too strong may yet become, despite itself, a problem for the continent it claims to save.
*Author is former member of the UN senior staff