Germany vows to step up militarily but rhetoric may struggle to match reality

 

Germany’s Military Ambitions Under Friedrich Merz Face Early Hurdles

Not everything is going according to plan for Friedrich Merz following his bold promises to rebuild the German military and remove restrictions on aid to Ukraine.

In the days after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, then-Chancellor Olaf Scholz announced a Zeitenwende—a historic turning point. He pledged a sweeping shift in Germany’s defense policy: increased military spending, greater support for Ukraine, a firmer stance on authoritarian regimes, and a rapid move away from dependence on Russian energy.

For Germany, long burdened by its Nazi-era history, this was a psychological shift as much as a strategic one. As Europe’s largest economy, the country was now expected to rise to the challenge of defending the continent.

But two years on, that transformation had fallen short. The German Council on Foreign Relations published a report concluding that Scholz’s promises had yet to produce substantial change.

With Friedrich Merz now in office, the question is whether Zeitenwende can become a reality. So far, he’s been active—and assertive. In just three weeks, Merz has pledged to build the strongest conventional army in Europe, hosted Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy in Berlin, visited Kyiv, and overseen the first permanent deployment of German troops abroad since World War II—stationed in Lithuania. Most significantly, he suspended Germany’s “debt brake,” unlocking major funding for the Bundeswehr.

In his first address as chancellor, Merz committed to providing all necessary resources to support this transformation. Germany’s allies, he said, not only expect this—“they practically demand it.” His stated goal: to shift Germany from a “dormant” power to a “leading middle power.” So far, he appears confident in that role.

Speaking in Lithuania, Merz declared, “The protection of Vilnius is the protection of Berlin. Our shared freedom doesn’t stop at borders—it ends when we stop defending it.” That statement came from a country whose president once resigned in 2011 after controversially suggesting that military action might be needed to defend national interests.

Yet the momentum has not been without setbacks. On Monday, Merz made headlines by stating that there were no longer any restrictions on the type of weapons Ukraine could receive from Germany, the UK, France, or the US—including those capable of long-range strikes. That raised immediate speculation that Germany would finally supply its 500km-range Taurus missiles, which Merz had supported while in opposition. Such missiles could threaten Russian military infrastructure, including key bridges to Crimea.

Moscow’s reaction was swift. Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov responded: “To hear the current German leader talk about restoring Germany as Europe’s leading military power, just after the 80th anniversary of Hitler’s defeat, is quite symbolic. Apparently, history teaches these people nothing.” Dmitry Medvedev, the former Russian president, took it further—invoking Merz’s family past and warning of a looming third world war.

Complicating matters further, Merz quickly backtracked. He claimed the “no limits” policy had already existed and hesitated on whether he would honor his earlier pledge to send Taurus missiles. Many suspect Finance Minister Lars Klingbeil, from the Social Democratic Party—part of Merz’s coalition—intervened to stop the move. It evoked memories of the indecisiveness that plagued the previous government.

Merz may also be confronting new complexities: Taurus missiles require extensive training for Ukrainian forces, and the question of whether German troops would provide that training inside Ukraine raises sensitive legal and political issues. The government now appears to have adopted a stance of “strategic ambiguity,” focusing instead on potential missile co-production with Ukraine.

Nonetheless, Merz’s supporters see progress. Thomas Röwekamp, chair of the Bundestag’s defense committee and fellow CDU member, told Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung that by lifting range restrictions, Merz had removed a major obstacle to delivering the Taurus. While this is not yet a formal commitment, the rationale for prior refusals no longer stands.

Still, Merz faces the larger challenge of matching his assertive rhetoric with the long, complex process of rebuilding Germany’s neglected military. The gap is wide.

For example, Germany committed in 2021 to supplying 10 brigades to NATO by 2030. Each brigade typically has around 5,000 troops. Currently, Germany has eight, with the ninth being established in Lithuania for deployment by 2027.

The Bundeswehr now consists of approximately 182,000 active soldiers, along with 60,000 reservists. That’s far below Cold War levels, when Germany had 500,000 troops and 800,000 reservists. The government aims to increase the active force to 203,000 by 2031.

Despite the slow progress and political friction, Germany’s allies appear to have already adjusted to the idea of the country emerging once again as Europe’s leading military power.