
Original text: https://archive.ph/mSXYe.
Frustration with Friedrich Merz is growing within the CDU. What was previously unimaginable suddenly seems possible: the party is becoming alienated from its own Chancellor.
At one point in the film The Odyssey—after several battles have been fought, the crew is weary, and the prospect of returning home is more uncertain than ever—Odysseus notices hesitation and doubt in his men's eyes and asks his second-in-command: "Is this a mutiny?" "That depends on you," his confidant replies. The implication is clear: lead your men wisely—ask no more of them than they can endure—and they will follow you. Otherwise, they likely won't.
One need not be a member of the CDU to be reminded of Friedrich Merz when witnessing the current situation.
It was meant to be a fresh start—step two in the operation to regain a foothold following a successful coalition committee meeting. Instead, the cabinet reshuffle triggered by Jens Spahn’s resignation has become the latest peak in the Chancellor’s unprecedented estrangement from his party. "Something has broken," is how a senior CDU figure sums up the situation.
What has broken, it seems, is the sense that Merz can be relied upon—both personally and politically. At the very least, confidence has been shaken that the political "ride through hell"—in which Germany’s Christian Democrats undoubtedly find themselves—might end well. The catalyst was, of all things, the dismissal of Patrick Schnieder—a CDU politician from Rhineland-Palatinate and Federal Transport Minister—a man whose appearance most citizens likely wouldn't have recognized until then. His replacement was supposed to be a minor detail amidst an unexpected opportunity for a fresh start—a move that, in Friedrich Merz’s words, was meant to be "well-founded" and "carefully considered." Yet, in the judgment of many within the party, the process has gone disastrously wrong before even reaching its conclusion.
For the second time since Spahn’s resignation, the party is experiencing a dynamic within the span of two weeks unlike anything seen before—one that is breathtaking and scarcely comprehensible without knowledge of the many minor events leading up to it.
When did it start? And how did it escalate like that?
Last Thursday, Merz informed his Transport Minister by phone that he intended to replace him. Merz was dissatisfied with Schnieder, believing he was failing to deploy funds from the government’s investment program quickly or effectively enough. In Merz’s view, the spending neither justified the record debt—a source of great discomfort for the CDU—nor did it accelerate the renovation of the railways, which had become a daily, visible monument to state failure.
Merz believed he had found a successor in Fritz Güntzler, an MP from Lower Saxony. While Güntzler knew little about the railways, he was well-versed in finance. The hope was that this tax expert would succeed in better "leveraging" the urgently needed private investment for the rail network. Güntzler—whom Merz reached while he was away on a camping holiday—agreed on Thursday. Yet less than twenty-four hours later, early Friday morning, he backed out.
The Chancellor’s press conference to announce the new cabinet appointments had already been scheduled. When Nina Warken (Chancellery), Carsten Linnemann (Health), and Philipp Amthor (Federal-State Coordination) were introduced in the so-called "Chancellor’s Garden," they all looked rather dejected; there was no sign of a fresh start. Shortly thereafter, the reason for the sour mood among Merz and his team became clear: Patrick Schnieder had sent a text message to his fellow party members informing them of his dismissal and thanking them for their "tremendous support."
Over the course of Friday, a wave of indignation—of a kind rarely seen—swept through the CDU. WhatsApp messages and texts circulated, filled with sympathy for Schnieder and schadenfreude directed at Merz. Chaotic; undignified; a "chaos fest"; he’s not up to the job—such was the tenor of many messages. Others likened the experience to a rollercoaster ride.
The flood of messages feels brutal—both in sheer volume and in the choice of words. Is this representative, or is it merely the disgruntled voices that are skewing the perception? One thing is clear: the cabinet reshuffle was intended to demonstrate Merz’s leadership prowess; he decided on it largely on his own. Now, he alone is being held responsible for the chaotic impression it has created.
Technically, it is the summer recess; MPs are on vacation or back in their constituencies. Yet social media and the multitude of internal party WhatsApp groups never take a break, which further fuels the intense momentum. This is one of the factors that differ from the past and make enforcing party discipline far more difficult.
Moreover, with the forced resignation of Jens Spahn, the CDU rank-and-file has—for the second time, following the failure to elect constitutional court judge Frauke Brosius-Gersdorf a year ago—learned that they can make a difference, even influencing their own leadership. This, too, is new for the CDU. The party cherishes its core values, but it also loves power. That is why it has always been a party that followed its leadership—albeit grumbling and despite disagreeing with much of what was happening. Yet this leadership—and this Chancellor—are increasingly unable to deliver on the promise of power. The CDU is polling at 21 percent, trailing significantly behind the AfD—the very party Merz had intended to cut down to half its size. Something has shifted. A dangerous feeling is spreading within and around the CDU: something is no longer right. Fundamentally so.
Merz had become a projection screen.
A call to someone who has known the CDU for a long time and knows it well: Is it possible—does such a thing happen—for the CDU not to topple a chancellor, but simply to cast them off, slowly but surely, like an incompatible organ or a foreign body? Yes, the person on the line says; it has happened once before, with Ludwig Erhard. In 1966, he first lost his party's support, then the FDP ministers withdrew from his coalition; Erhard remained chancellor of a minority government but could no longer push anything through and was ultimately forced to resign.
Merz had wanted to be compared to Adenauer when he first took the stage. The more Merkel wore herself out during her 16 years in office, the more Merz became a projection screen for the party's conservatives—effectively becoming their true leader in spirit. Now, it is the conservatives, above all, who are disappointed. Meanwhile, the others feel vindicated. The vote involving the AfD, the record debt, the broken promises, the Chancellor’s treatment of people—all of this coalesces into a single suspicion: We were wrong about him. Whatever Merz does or says now seems to be judged by just one question: How badly did he botch it this time?
The CDU is not given to open pitched battles. There is a certain irony in the fact that this time, the revolt is playing out via WhatsApp: because so much information used to leak from executive committee meetings, Merz had banned his people from using mobile phones during internal sessions. Now, however, they are being used after the meetings end—and with all the more zeal.
At 7:33 p.m. last Friday, Peter Altmaier—Merkel’s former Chief of Staff—tweeted: "I have known and valued for a decade and a half. He is an experienced expert, a hard worker, and a wonderful person and friend. The way he is being treated leaves me dismayed and angry; it does justice to neither the man nor his achievements."
After leaving the government five years ago, Altmaier had long kept a low profile. Now, however, he is making his voice heard increasingly often—in podcasts, interviews, and on X—usually with a critical tone. Altmaier is one of many CDU figures who are no longer in the front ranks but are watching closely what is happening to their party. For him, the treatment of Schnieder crossed a line. The following day, while Altmaier was traveling through Rhineland-Palatinate, his tweet was read out on the SWR broadcaster; he was inundated with messages of support and constantly approached by people—effectively becoming a sounding board for their grievances.
Many share his view. Schnieder hails from Rhineland-Palatinate, a medium-sized state; he rose through the ranks of the CDU and is well-connected. His brother Gordon has governed the state since May and sits on the party’s executive committee. Merz had not consulted him beforehand, either. Patrick Schnieder has now become a figure with whom people identify; they are proud of him in Rhineland-Palatinate, but that identification extends far beyond the state. He is one of their own—a quintessential mainstream Christian Democrat. That is why so many people feel that he—and by extension, they—are being treated poorly by their own party leader.
Over the weekend, Schnieder announced publicly that he had asked the party leader to relieve him of his duties in order to put an end to the "undignified" situation. "Undignified"—that is a word cropping up in a great many conversations right now.
Around the time Merz was standing alongside his new secretary-general at Konrad-Adenauer-Haus on Monday to introduce Franziska Hoppermann as Carsten Linnemann’s successor, another piece of news began making the rounds: the Rhineland-Palatinate state parliamentary group had cancelled a planned meeting with the Chancellor. They stated that personal interaction requires a "minimum level of mutual trust and respect"—something no longer present following the inexplicable treatment of Patrick Schnieder. Patrick Schnieder’s brother, Gordon, had reposted a tweet by Peter Altmaier; he cannot openly rebel (yet?), so the Rhineland-Palatinate parliamentary group is now doing it on his behalf.
In his party’s leadership bodies this week, Merz faced unprecedentedly open criticism. Gordon Schnieder criticized the treatment of his brother, and—according to accounts from participants—the Bremen CDU chairman reproached the Chancellor during a board meeting, telling him he was leading a party, not a company.
One has to appreciate just how incredibly embarrassing all of this is for the average mainstream CDU member—and for many voters. It is also embarrassing for the Chancellor himself, who, during public appearances, now has to field questions almost daily about just how incompetent he is on a scale of one to ten.
The resentment seems excessive, and is partly unfair. Merz is neither to blame for Jens Spahn’s decision to use a surrogate mother nor for Güntzler’s withdrawal. Yet the very disproportionate nature of this wave of anger reveals just how much frustration has built up within the CDU. Every gap Merz closes opens up another—and every new gap tears open fresh wounds. Even minor personnel matters suddenly have the potential to trigger eruptions; no one seems to feel bound any longer by the CDU’s supreme virtue: loyalty to the Chancellor. On Monday evening, Tino Sorge wrote that he had learned of his dismissal as State Secretary in the Ministry of Health from the press. He, too, took a dig at the Chancellor’s style—and did so on X.
The coalition committee that finalized the government’s reforms—and the reform package itself—have all been undermined more thoroughly within the span of just two weeks than any opposition party could have managed. The fact that Merz has installed widely respected figures like Nina Warken and Thorsten Frei in two pivotal roles; that there is now a new transport minister, Steffen Bilger, who is considered knowledgeable, and a secretary-general, Hoppermann, who is highly regarded; and that the Chancellor responded swiftly and effectively to the terrorist attack on the CSD—all of this is being drowned out by the anger within the CDU.
What happens next? Will the elections taking place in just a few weeks in Saxony-Anhalt, Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, and Berlin instill the long-awaited discipline? Or is this merely a snapshot in time during a feverishly volatile summer?
On Monday evening, the CDU contact—who had previously cited Ludwig Erhard when asked what was happening—sent another text message. He wrote: "It has already begun." He was referring to the CDU’s move to cast off its Chancellor.
Translated by Google Translate, mistakes are my own.
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