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It's complicated: Putin and Merkel in Berlin, June 2012 (Thomas Peter / Courtesy Reuters)
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Russia’s
annexation of Crimea in March 2014 was a strategic shock for Germany.
Suddenly, Russian aggression threatened the European security order that
Germany had taken for granted since the end of the Cold War. Berlin had
spent two decades trying to strengthen political and economic ties with
Moscow, but Russia’s actions in Ukraine suggested that the Kremlin was
no longer interested in a partnership with Europe. Despite Germany’s
dependence on Russian gas and Russia’s importance to German exporters,
German Chancellor Angela Merkel ultimately agreed to impose sanctions on
Russia and helped persuade other EU member states to do likewise.
Nevertheless, the Ukraine crisis has reopened old questions about
Germany’s relationship to the rest of the West. In April, when the
German public-service broadcaster ARD asked Germans what role their
country should play in the crisis, just 45 percent wanted Germany to
side with its partners and allies in the EU and NATO; 49 percent wanted
Germany to mediate between Russia and the West. These results led the
weekly newsmagazine Der Spiegel, in an editorial published last May, to warn Germany against turning away from the West.
Germany’s response to the Ukraine crisis can be understood against the backdrop of a long-term weakening of the so-called Westbindung,
the country’s postwar integration into the West. The fall of the Berlin
Wall and the enlargement of the EU freed the country from its reliance
on the United States for protection against a powerful Soviet Union. At
the same time, Germany’s export-dependent economy has become
increasingly reliant on demand from emerging markets such as China.
Although Germany remains committed to European integration, these
factors have made it possible to imagine a post-Western German foreign
policy. Such a shift comes with high stakes. Given Germany’s increased
power within the EU, the country’s relationship to the rest of the world
will, to a large extent, determine that of Europe.
THE GERMAN PARADOX
Germany has produced
the most radical challenge to the West from within.
Germany has always had a complex relationship with the West. On the
one hand, many of the political and philosophical ideas that became
central to the West originated in Germany with Enlightenment thinkers
such as Immanuel Kant. On the other hand, German intellectual history
has included darker strains that have threatened Western norms—such as
the current of nationalism that emerged in the early nineteenth century.
Beginning in the latter half of the nineteenth century, German
nationalists increasingly sought to define Germany’s identity in
opposition to the liberal, rationalistic principles of the French
Revolution and the Enlightenment. This version of German nationalism
culminated in Nazism, which the German historian Heinrich August Winkler
has called “the climax of the German rejection of the Western world.”
Germany, therefore, was a paradox: it was part of the West yet produced
the most radical challenge to it from within.
After World War II, West Germany took part in European
integration, and in 1955, as the Cold War heated up, it joined NATO. For
the next 40 years, the Westbindung, which led Germany to
cooperate and pursue joint security initiatives with its Western allies,
became an existential necessity that overrode other foreign policy
objectives. Germany continued to define itself as a Western power
through the 1990s. Under Chancellor Helmut Kohl, a reunified Germany
agreed to adopt the euro. By the end of the decade, the country appeared
to have reconciled itself to the use of military force to fulfill its
obligations as a NATO member. After 9/11, Chancellor Gerhard Schröder
pledged “unconditional solidarity” with the United States and committed
German troops to the NATO mission in Afghanistan.
Over the past decade, however, Germany’s attitude toward the rest of
the West has changed. In the debate about the 2003 invasion of Iraq,
Schröder spoke of a “German way,” in contrast to the “American way.”
Since then, Germany has hardened its opposition to the use of military
force. After its experience in Afghanistan, Germany appears to have
decided that the right lesson from its Nazi past is not “never again
Auschwitz,” the principle it invoked to justify its participation in the
1999 NATO military intervention in Kosovo, but “never again war.”
German politicians across the spectrum now define their country as a Friedensmacht, a “force for peace.”
Germany’s commitment to peace has led the EU and the United States to
accuse Germany of free-riding within the Western alliance. Speaking in
Brussels in 2011, U.S. Defense Secretary Robert Gates warned that
NATO was becoming “a two-tiered alliance . . . between those willing and
able to pay the price and bear the burdens of alliance commitments, and
those who enjoy the benefits of NATO membership, be they security
guarantees or headquarters billets, but don’t want to share the risks
and the costs.” He singled out for particular criticism those
NATO members that spend less on defense than the agreed-on amount of two
percent of GDP; Germany spends just 1.3 percent. In the past few years,
France has similarly criticized Germany for its failure to provide
sufficient support for military interventions in Mali and the Central
African Republic.
One reason Germany has neglected its NATO obligations is that the Westbindung
no longer appears to be a strategic necessity. After the end of the
Cold War, the EU and NATO expanded to include some central and eastern
European countries, which meant that Germany was “encircled by friends,”
as the former German defense minister Volker Rühe put it, rather than
by potential military aggressors, and it was therefore no longer reliant
on the United States for protection from the Soviet Union.
At the same time, Germany’s economy has become more dependent on
exports, particularly to non-Western countries. In the first decade of
this century, as domestic demand remained low and German manufacturers
regained competitiveness, Germany became increasingly dependent on
exports. According to the World Bank, the contribution of exports to
Germany’s GDP jumped from 33 percent in 2000 to 48 percent in 2010.
Beginning with Schröder, Germany began to base its foreign policy
largely on its economic interests and, in particular, on the needs of
exporters.
Increasing anti-American sentiment among ordinary Germans has
contributed to the foreign policy shift, too. If the Iraq war gave
Germans the confidence to split from the United States on issues of war
and peace, the 2008 global financial meltdown gave it the confidence to
diverge on economic issues. For many Germans, the crisis highlighted the
failures of Anglo-Saxon capitalism and vindicated Germany’s social
market economy. The revelations in 2013 that the U.S. National Security
Agency had been conducting surveillance on Germans and eavesdropping on
Merkel’s cell-phone calls further strengthened anti-American sentiment.
Many Germans now say that they no longer share values with the United
States, and some say that they never did.
To be sure, Germany’s liberal political culture, a result of its
Western integration, is here to stay. But it remains to be seen whether
Germany will continue to align itself with its Western partners and
stand up for Western norms as it becomes more dependent on non-Western
countries for its economic growth. The most dramatic illustration of
what a post-Western German foreign policy might look like came in 2011,
when Germany abstained in a vote in the UN Security Council over
military intervention in Libya—siding with China and Russia over France,
the United Kingdom, and the United States. Some German officials insist
that this decision did not prefigure a larger trend. But a poll
conducted shortly after the vote by the foreign policy journal Internationale Politik
found Germans to be split three ways over whether they should continue
to cooperate primarily with Western partners; with other countries, such
as China, India, and Russia; or with both.
THE NEW OSTPOLITIK
Germany’s policy toward Russia has long been based on political
engagement and economic interdependence. When Willy Brandt became
chancellor of West Germany in 1969, he sought to balance the Westbindung with a more open relationship with the Soviet Union and pursued a new approach that became known as the Ostpolitik,
or “Eastern policy.” Brandt believed that increasing political and
economic ties between the two powers might eventually lead to German
reunification, a strategy his adviser Egon Bahr called Wandel durch Annäherung, “change through rapprochement.”
Germans are split over whether to cooperate with Western partners or with countries such as Russia and China.
Since the end of the Cold War, economic ties between Germany and Russia have expanded further. Invoking the memory of Brandt’s Ostpolitik, Schröder began a policy of Wandel durch Handel,
or “change through trade.” German policymakers, and particularly the
Social Democrats, championed a “partnership for modernization,” in which
Germany would supply Russia with technology to modernize its
economy—and, ideally, its politics.
These ties help explain Germany’s initial reluctance to impose
sanctions after the Russian incursion into Ukraine in 2014. In deciding
whether or not to follow the U.S. lead, Merkel faced pressure from
powerful lobbyists for German industry, led by the Committee on Eastern
European Economic Relations, who argued that sanctions would badly
undermine the German economy. In a show of support for Russian President
Vladimir Putin, Joe Kaeser, the CEO of Siemens, visited the Russian
leader at his residence outside Moscow just after the annexation of
Crimea. Kaeser assured Putin that his company, which had conducted
business in Russia for roughly 160 years, would not let “short-term
turbulence”—his characterization of the crisis—affect its relationship
with the country. In an editorial in the Financial Times in
May, the director general of the Federation of German Industries, Markus
Kerber, wrote that German businesses would support sanctions but would
do so “with a heavy heart.”
Germany’s heavy dependence on Russian energy also caused Berlin to
shy away from sanctions. After the 2011 Fukushima nuclear disaster in
Japan, Germany decided to phase out nuclear power sooner than planned,
which made the country increasingly dependent on Russian gas. By 2013,
Russian companies provided roughly 38 percent of Germany’s oil and 36
percent of its gas. Although Germany could diversify away from Russian
gas by finding alternative sources of energy, such a process would
likely take decades. In the short term, therefore, Germany has been
reluctant to antagonize Russia.
For her support of sanctions, Merkel has faced pushback not just from
industry but also from the German public. Although some in the United
States and in other European countries have accused the German
government of going too easy on Russia, many within Germany have felt
that their government is acting too aggressively. When the German
journalist Bernd Ulrich called for tougher action against Putin, for
example, he found himself inundated with hate mail that accused him of
warmongering. Even Frank-Walter Steinmeier, Germany’s foreign minister,
long perceived to be sympathetic to Russia, has faced similar
accusations. The National Security Agency spying revelations only
increased sympathy for Russia. As Ulrich put it in April 2014, “When the
Russian president says he feels oppressed by the West, many here think,
‘So do we.’”
That type of identification with Russia has deep historical roots. In 1918, the German writer Thomas Mann published a book, Reflections of a Nonpolitical Man,
in which he argued that German culture was distinct from—and superior
to—the cultures of other Western nations, such as France and the United
Kingdom. German culture, he argued, fell somewhere between Russian
culture and the cultures of the rest of Europe. That idea has
experienced a dramatic resurgence in recent months. Writing in Der Spiegel in April 2014, Winkler, the historian, criticized the so-called Russlandversteher,
Germans who express support for Russia, for repopularizing “the myth of
a connection between the souls of Russia and Germany.”
In crafting a response to Russia’s annexation of Crimea, then, Merkel
had to walk a fine line. She sought to keep open the possibility of a
political solution for as long as possible, spending hours on the phone
with Putin and sending Steinmeier to help mediate between Moscow and
Kiev. It was only after Malaysia Airlines Flight 17 was shot down on
July 17, 2014, allegedly by pro-Russian separatists, that German
officials felt comfortable adopting a tougher stance. Even then, public
support for sanctions remained tepid. An August poll by the ARD found
that 70 percent of Germans supported Europe’s second round of sanctions
against Russia, which included banning visas for and freezing the assets
of a list of prominent Russian businesspeople. But only 49 percent said
that they would continue to back sanctions even if they hurt the German
economy—as the third round of sanctions likely will.
Popular support for sanctions could slip further if Germany goes into
recession, as many analysts say it might. Although German businesses
have reluctantly accepted the sanctions, they have continued to lobby
Merkel to ease them. And even as its economic efforts come under threat,
Germany has made it clear that military options are not on the table.
Ahead of the NATO summit in Wales in September, Merkel opposed plans for
the alliance to establish a permanent presence in eastern Europe, which
she argued would violate the 1997 NATO-Russia Founding Act. Put simply,
Germany may not have the stamina for a policy of containment toward
Russia.
PIVOT TO CHINA
Germany has also grown closer to China, an even more significant
harbinger of a post-Western German foreign policy. As it has with
Russia, Germany has benefited from increasingly close economic ties with
China. In the past decade, German exports there have grown
exponentially. By 2013, they added up to $84 billion, almost double the
value of German exports to Russia. Indeed, China has become the
second-largest market for German exports outside the EU, and it may soon
overtake the United States as the largest. China is already the biggest
market for Volkswagen—Germany’s largest automaker—and the Mercedes-Benz
S-Class.
The relationship between Germany and China grew only stronger after
the 2008 financial crisis, when the two countries found themselves on
the same side in debates about the global economy. Both have exerted
deflationary pressure on their trading partners, criticized the U.S.
policy of quantitative easing, and resisted calls from the United States
to take action to rectify macroeconomic imbalances in the global
economy. Germany and China have, simultaneously, become closer
politically. In 2011, the two countries began holding an annual
government-to-government consultation—in effect, a joint cabinet
meeting. The event marked the first time that China had conducted such a
broad-based negotiation with another country.
For Germany, the relationship is primarily economic, but for China,
which wants a strong Europe to counterbalance the United States, it is
also strategic. China may see Germany as the key to getting the kind of
Europe it wants, partly because Germany appears to be increasingly
powerful within Europe but perhaps also because German preferences seem
closer to its own than do those of other EU member states, such as
France and the United Kingdom.
The tighter Berlin-Beijing nexus comes as the United States adopts a
tougher approach to China as part of its so-called pivot to Asia—and it
could pose a major problem for the West. If the United States found
itself in conflict with China over economic or security issues—if there
were an Asian Crimea, for instance—there is a real possibility that
Germany would remain neutral. Some German diplomats in China have
already begun to distance themselves from the West. In 2012, for
example, the German ambassador to China, Michael Schaefer, said in an
interview, “I don’t think there is such a thing as the West anymore.”
Given their increasing dependence on China as an export market, German
businesses would be even more opposed to the imposition of sanctions on
China than on Russia. The German government would likely be even more
reluctant to take tough action than it has been during the Ukraine
crisis, which would create even greater rifts within Europe and between
Europe and the United States.
A GERMAN EUROPE
Fears of German neutrality are not new. In the early 1970s, Henry
Kissinger, then the U.S. national security adviser, warned that West
Germany’s Ostpolitik could play into the hands of the Soviet
Union and threaten transatlantic unity. He argued that closer economic
ties with the Soviet Union would increase Europe’s dependence on its
eastern neighbor, thereby undermining the West. The danger Kissinger
foresaw was not so much that West Germany might leave NATO but, as he
put it in his memoir, that it might “avoid controversies outside of
Europe even when they affected fundamental security interests.”
Fortunately for Washington, the Cold War kept such impulses in check, as
West Germany relied on the United States for protection against the
Soviet Union.
Now, however, Germany finds itself in a more central and stronger
position in Europe. During the Cold War, West Germany was a weak state
on the fringes of what became the EU, but the reunified Germany is now
one of the strongest—if not the strongest—power in the union. Given that
position, a post-Western Germany could take much of the rest of Europe
with it, particularly those central and eastern European countries with
economies that are deeply intertwined with Germany’s. If the United
Kingdom leaves the EU, as it is now debating, the union will be even
more likely to follow German preferences, especially as they pertain to
Russia and China. In that event, Europe could find itself at odds with
the United States—and the West could suffer a schism from which it might
never recover.