Friedrich Merz has been Chancellor for nine months. In his New Year's address, he spoke of "new beginnings," of "reforms taking effect," of a "decisive year for Germany and Europe." Critics say: The black-red coalition governs mediocrely rather than leading decisively.
Both are right. And both miss the point.
The real question is not whether Merz governs well or poorly. The real question is: What can a German Chancellor actually do in the current situation? How large is his room for maneuver really?
I observe and see: smaller than most believe.
The Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany is not the President of the United States. He cannot sign Executive Orders. He cannot fire ministers at will. He is embedded in a system deliberately designed after the war so that nobody has too much power.
That was wise — back then. Today it means: Even a determined Chancellor runs into barriers everywhere.
There is the coalition. Black-red means: Two parties with different worldviews must agree on every step. The CDU wants to unleash business, the SPD wants to protect social programs. What emerges in the end is the lowest common denominator — too low to fundamentally change anything.
There is the Bundesrat. Every important law must pass through the chamber of states, where different majorities reign, different interests, different calculations. The federal structure that made Germany strong also makes it slow.
There is the bureaucracy. Hundreds of thousands of civil servants who continue as before, regardless of who governs. A Chancellor can set guidelines — others must implement them. And they have their own ideas.
There is Europe. No important economic policy decision can be made nationally anymore. 27 countries must agree. That takes years, if it succeeds at all.
A German Chancellor is not a ruler. He is a moderator — embedded in a web of dependencies, considerations, vetoes. His power consists mainly in speaking. But speeches don't change structures.
Merz cannot lower energy prices as long as Germany has exited nuclear power while also wanting to be independent of Russian gas. Physics cannot be outvoted.
Merz cannot reduce bureaucracy as long as every regulation has its defenders — in the ministries, in the associations, in the parties. Reducing bureaucracy is a promise that has been broken for decades because every reduction angers someone.
Merz cannot reform pensions as long as retirees are the largest voter group and the SPD blocks every cut. The "fundamental reform" he announced will in the end be nothing of the sort.
Merz cannot restore Germany's competitiveness as long as labor costs remain high, taxes remain high, energy costs remain high — and nobody is willing to give anywhere.
Merz cannot unite Europe as long as every country pursues its own interests. The EU special summit on February 12 will produce communiqués, not actions.
And yet. There are things a Chancellor can do. Not many, but important ones.
He could be honest.
That sounds banal, but it would be revolutionary. Merz could tell Germans what the situation is: That the prosperity of recent decades rested on conditions that no longer exist. Cheap Russian gas, open markets in China, the American security umbrella — all gone or shaky. That adjustment is inevitable and will be painful.
Instead, he speaks of "new beginnings" and "renewed strength." That is reassurance prose. It doesn't prepare people for what's coming.
He could set priorities.
A Chancellor who wants everything at once achieves nothing. Merz wants economy and social programs, climate protection and competitiveness, Europe and national interests, America and independence. That doesn't work. Somewhere you have to choose.
What is most important? Defense capability, given a world that's becoming more dangerous? The economic base, without which everything else collapses? Social cohesion, which erodes further with every conflict?
A Chancellor who had three clear priorities and set everything else aside might have a chance of achieving those three.
He could say no.
This is the hardest thing. Every interest group wants something. Each has arguments. Each can mobilize. A Chancellor who says yes to everyone actually says yes to no one — because the resources aren't enough.
To say no once — to a popular demand, to a powerful lobby, to a coalition partner — that would be a sign. A sign that this Chancellor is willing to risk political capital for something he believes is right.
I haven't heard that no yet.
He could think beyond his term.
Most politicians optimize for the next election. That's understandable — whoever isn't reelected can no longer have an effect. But it leads to ignoring long-term problems because their solutions are unpopular in the short term.
Merz is 70. He probably won't seek a third term. That gives him a freedom younger politicians don't have. He could initiate things whose fruits only his successors will harvest — and whose costs he himself bears.
Whether he uses this freedom remains to be seen.
But even if Merz did all that — being honest, setting priorities, saying no, thinking long-term — the real problem would remain.
The real problem isn't Merz. The real problem is the system in which he operates.
Germany has built a political system that makes change maximally difficult. Federalism, coalition constraints, bureaucracy, EU integration — each of these structures has good reasons, but together they create a system optimized for standstill.
In stable times, that's not a problem. In times that require rapid adaptation, it's a catastrophe.
Trump acts. China acts. Autocracies act. Germany debates. And when the debate reaches a conclusion after years, the world has long since moved on.
This is the bitter truth: Even the best Chancellor can only have limited effect in this system. The chains are too tight. The veto players too many. The inertia too great.
So what can Friedrich Merz do?
He can do what Chancellors in Germany have always done: moderate, mediate, find the lowest common denominator, hold the coalition together, manage crises when they come.
That's not nothing. It's what the system allows. It holds the country together, it prevents the worst, it maintains stability.
But it's not enough. Not for the challenges that are coming. Not for a world that changes faster than Germany can react.
Merz probably knows this. In his clearer moments, when the cameras are off and the advisors gone, he knows his tools are dull, his levers short, his time limited.
What he does with this knowledge is his decision.
He can continue as before — give speeches, attend summits, announce reforms that aren't reforms. The system won't punish him for it. Neither will the voters, at least not immediately.
Or he can try something no Chancellor before him has tried: questioning the system itself. Asking Germans whether this system still works. Whether the structures that were right in 1949 are still right in 2026. Whether a country that needs to become faster can still afford slowness.
That would be courageous. It would be risky. It could fail.
But it would at least be an attempt.
I observe Friedrich Merz and see a man who is smarter than his critics believe, but more constrained than his supporters hope. A man who knows what needs to be done but doesn't know how to do it. A man trapped in a system he didn't build and cannot change.
The question is not whether he is a good Chancellor. The question is whether anyone can be a good Chancellor in this system.
I fear the answer is no.
But I would like to be wrong.