Interesting piece in the Telegraph. Some won’t like it because it suggests that the latest phase of Nordstream maintenance isn’t maintenance but the deliberate throttling of European energy supply (covered earlier on in this lengthy thread) and that Mr Putin is a genocidal neighbour invading tyrant etc.
Putin’s stooges almost succeeded in persuading Scholz to defy his Nato allies. He dithered until the eve of February’s invasion before shelving Nord Stream 2.
Now, after six months of Europe’s worst war since 1945, some German politicians are once again calling for the pipeline to be opened “so that people do not have to freeze in winter and our industry does not suffer serious damage”, as Wolfgang Kubicki, Vice-President of the German Parliament, puts it.
Meanwhile Ms Schwesig has just been re-elected as leader of the Social Democrats in her state by a large majority. Schröder has yet to be expelled from the party, let alone sanctioned.
Germany’s Achilles’ heel
This is the measure of Germany’s abject reliance, not only on Russian energy, but on the Russian state. For Putin, gas and oil were only ever a means to an end. He has always wanted to reduce the Germans — towards whom Russians have traditionally had an inferiority complex — to a status of servility.
Stalin only succeeded in dividing Germany. Putin seeks to turn the entire Federal Republic into his client state — and thereby impose his will upon Europe.
With the unerring eye of the predator, Putin grasped that energy was Germany’s Achilles’ heel. A single plant of a single corporation, the headquarters of the chemical and pharmaceutical giant BASF at Ludwigshafen, uses as much energy as Denmark.
Over the last 25 years, Germany’s craving for cheap energy led it into an unequal relationship with Russia — what the philosopher Hegel called “the dialectic of master and slave”.
Putin saw that some German politicians could be bought (Schröder), others bamboozled (Merkel), and still others bullied (Scholz). Other EU countries followed the German example by relying heavily on Moscow for energy, influenced by the evasion and ambivalence that has characterised Berlin’s policy for decades.
Germany, whose economy is substantially larger than Britain’s, has given just £1 billion in military aid to Ukraine compared to the UK’s £3.5 billion. The United States has given ten times as much as the EU. Yet Ukraine is a European country under genocidal attack.
The reluctance to provoke Putin that still prevails in wide circles of the Federal Republic is rooted in exaggerated notions of Russian military power, economic importance and cultural pre-eminence.
German fatalism about Russia’s ability to absorb casualties and yet win ultimate victory reflects folk memories of the Eastern Front. But Putin, unlike Stalin, does not have a vast conscript army at his disposal, he does not enjoy technical superiority and he cannot afford the war of attrition that he has unleashed. Nor are the Russian people united against an invading force in defence of their homeland. Only in Berlin do they think this is another Stalingrad.
This historical myopia has much to do with the long-standing German habit of subsuming the other nations that made up the Soviet Union into Russia. To this day most Germans have no awareness of the fact that the Nazis killed millions of Ukrainian civilians and devastated their country.
Ironically, many artists, writers and musicians who have fled Ukraine have found refuge in Germany. One example is the composer Valentin Silvestrov, who fled to Berlin aged 84 with one suitcase, full of his manuscripts. Once there, he discovered that Ukrainian music was unknown in Germany. Now that Silvestrov’s works are being performed, including at the Proms in London, the Germans are slowly waking up to the presence of a greater living composer than any of their own.
Many ordinary Germans, like the British, instinctively warm to the Ukrainian cause. The difference is in leadership – or lack of it. Chancellor Olaf Scholz, unlike Boris Johnson or Liz Truss, has shown only lukewarm support for Kyiv and has been implicitly rebuked by President Zelensky.
Hamburger grilled
Although there is no suggestion that Scholz has been bribed to go easy on Russia, he himself has become embroiled in a corruption scandal. He is accused of helping M.M. Warburg & Co, Germany’s oldest and largest private bank, to avoid a €47 million fine in 2016, during his time as Finance Minister in the Merkel coalition.
The Hamburg-based bank is alleged to have made up to €300 million in a capital gains tax scam which came to light while Scholz was also mayor of the city state. Just as he finds himself facing an unexpectedly grim present and a positively terrifying future, his provincial past has returned to haunt him.
Last week the Chancellor was grilled by a committee of inquiry in Hamburg. The normally meticulous Scholz claimed not to remember any details about his meetings with Warburg’s former chief, Christian Olearius, who has now been charged with tax evasion. Germany’s safe pair of hands, whom millions had entrusted with the nation’s finances, is now accused of being cosy with tax-dodging bankers and being an unimpressive, even unreliable, witness.
In other ways, too, Scholz is failing to live up to the moral example set by the two great Social Democratic Chancellors of post-war Germany, Willy Brandt and Helmut Schmidt. At a joint press conference with Mahmoud Abbas in Berlin earlier this month, Scholz remained tight-lipped while the Palestinian leader delivered an anti-Semitic tirade, accusing Israel of committing “many Holocausts” against his people.
Schmidt, who concealed the fact he had a Jewish grandfather from the Nazis but as Chancellor was an outspoken philosemite, would not have been impressed by his fellow Hamburger Scholz. Nor would Brandt, who famously fell to his knees at the memorial to the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.
Not for decades has anti-Semitism been such a threat in Germany: in July, Berlin’s Holocaust Memorial was desecrated with swastikas. Now, as Putin’s myrmidons massacre and deport Ukrainians near the site of Nazi genocide, while a quarter of the Russian Jewish population has emigrated in anticipation of pogroms, Germany needs a leader who is not afraid to denounce anti-Semitism even at the cost of diplomatic niceties.
After less than a year in office, Scholz’s personal ratings are plumbing depths never seen during Mrs Merkel’s 16 years at the helm. As Germans brace themselves for unprecedented hardships in peacetime, they are led by a weak and indecisive Chancellor at the head of a fragile three-party coalition.
Post-heroic, post-patriotic
Wednesday’s visit to Kyiv by Boris Johnson – his third – to mark Ukraine’s Independence Day was hugely appreciated not only by Volodymyr Zelensky but by all Ukrainians. Yet it was a gesture of solidarity that did not occur – could not have occurred – to Olaf Scholz.
The German Chancellor’s only visit to the Ukrainian capital last June, accompanied by Emmanuel Macron and Mario Draghi, was an awkward, chilly affair that yielded little more than promises. This week, Scholz posted a short video message, concluding: “Our hearts are with you.” Ulrich Speck, a German foreign policy analyst, commented: “Hearts, yes. But not weapons.”
Johnson, by contrast, knows he is among friends in Kyiv – a friendship symbolised by Zelensky awarding him Ukraine’s highest honour, the Order of Liberty. It is impossible to imagine the lugubrious German Chancellor finding the Prime Minister’s pithy words: “While people [in the West] are paying energy bills, people in Ukraine are paying with blood.” Nor would Scholz echo him in declaring: “I believe Ukraine can and will win this war.”
For his part, Zelensky told his people that they had been “reborn” in the heat of war. “We used to say: ‘Peace’. Now we say: ‘Victory’,” he declared.
Highly educated Germans find it hard to empathise with such Churchillian sentiments. Jürgen Habermas, the eminence grise of German intellectuals, makes condescending comments about Ukraine as a primitive place, still captive to the nationalist illusions of the last century, unlike more sophisticated, “post-heroic” Germany. It doesn’t occur to the 93-year-old philosopher that without the heroism of its soldiers and civilians, Ukraine would by now have ceased to exist.
Prussian military prowess has long since given way to post-patriotic pusillanimity. Where Merkel and Scholz feared to tread and even Biden was hesitant, Johnson was the first to commit himself wholeheartedly to the cause and to visit war-torn Kyiv.
Many other nations – the Poles, the Baltic states, the Scandinavians and the Canadians among them – have been more supportive than the Germans, who owe Ukrainians the greatest moral debt.
Berlin boasts of handing out a handful of howitzers while dithering over clapped-out armoured vehicles. Meanwhile British arms and training, Turkish drones and American rocket artillery systems have proved decisive on the battlefield.
Sold down the Dnieper
Although the Scholz coalition officially sides with Ukraine, the unpalatable fact remains that Germany and its EU partners are financing Russian aggression by paying vast sums for Russian gas.
Will they stand up to Putin in Germany when the enormity of the ordeal ahead becomes clear to everybody? Will public opinion continue to back even the present feeble commitment, or will the voices calling for peace at the expense of Ukrainians prevail? It is all too believable that at some point, probably early next year when gas storage facilities are empty, Berlin – and Brussels – will open negotiations with the Kremlin, regardless of Kyiv’s wishes.
Yet it is then that the ghosts of the past may rise up to intervene in the present. The thought of Germans and Russians redrawing the map of Eastern Europe at the conference table sends shivers down the spines of every Pole, Lithuanian, Latvian, Estonian and, of course, Ukrainian. On August 23, 1940, exactly 82 years ago this week, the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact was signed, carving up Poland (which then included Lviv and other parts of present-day Ukraine) and the Baltic states between Russia and Germany. No German Chancellor wishes to be reminded of that precedent.
However, nor can Scholz risk presiding over an even deeper and more lasting recession than that caused by the Covid pandemic. Somehow he must steer a course between the Scylla of appeasing Putin and the Charybdis of economic ruin.
The tension between these positions is reflected in the tripartite coalition. Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock and the Greens are the hawks, Finance Minister Christian Lindner and his pro-business Free Democrats are the doves, while the Social Democrats are deeply divided. The party leadership leans towards Moscow, the rank and file towards Kyiv. This explains why Scholz never says that he wants Ukraine to win the war, merely that they must not lose it.
The opposition Christian Democrats are only slightly more united. They too have a large wing that privately favours a negotiated peace, represented by their pro-business leader Friedrich Merz, and a smaller but not insignificant group led by the foreign affairs expert Norbert Röntgen, who hope for a Ukrainian victory. Merz has papered over the cracks by focusing on a campaign to reverse his predecessor Mrs Merkel’s exit from nuclear energy.
Meanwhile, the “understanding Putin” lobby has the support of both the hard Left Die Linke and anti-immigration AfD parties. German public opinion has slowly tiptoed away from its initial admiration for Ukrainian resistance and towards a compromise peace.
That subtle shift could soon become an overwhelming tide, once Germans are required to make real sacrifices. Vladimir Putin, we may be sure, is counting on it.
From October, Scholz will impose a gas levy on consumers to compensate energy companies for the cost of replacing Russian gas supplies. Germany’s biggest energy company, Uniper, was bailed out in July to the tune of £12.5 billion; it is now claiming another £18.5 billion of levies.
This policy is bound to be unpopular, since it redistributes tens of billions from the poor to the rich — curious thinking for a government of the Left. But this is nothing compared to the prospect of protests sparked by a national shutdown caused, not by a deadly virus, but by Putin’s energy politics.
A change in the air?
Modern Germany has a volatile history of popular protest. It began with the revolution that toppled the Kaiser in 1918. The Nazis mobilised the masses to carry out their “national revolution” in 1933. A workers’ uprising in East Germany was crushed by Soviet tanks in 1953. Student protests brought about a cultural revolution in 1968. Uniquely bloodless and benign was the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989. This was Germany’s finest hour.
The defiance that breached the Wall and sent the Soviet army home was a blessing, but the despair that Putin’s revenge may induce this winter will surely be a curse. Gas has given the Russian dictator coercive control over the German political class, which willingly acquiesced in its fate.
In Kyiv, Boris Johnson said: “I can tell you that we in the UK will not for one second give in to Putin’s blackmail.” Olaf Scholz is incapable of speaking like this — because he does not believe it. He has failed to frame the coming ordeal as a battle in which Germans must make sacrifices for their own liberty, not just Ukraine’s. People don’t mind his lack of charisma; they do mind facing a nightmarish winter with spineless hypocrisy at the helm.
Will it become so obvious by next spring that Scholz is unequal to the task that either he or his coalition are replaced? Can the centre of German politics hold — or are we about to see a terrible revolt of the masses against a discredited political establishment? It has happened before. It can happen again.
Daniel Johnson was the Telegraph’s correspondent in Germany and Eastern Europe in the late 1980s. He is now the editor of TheArticle.
