Is Friedrich Merz a Friend of the Jews?

As Friedrich Merz takes the reins as Chancellor of Germany, the question is chillingly simple: Is he a friend to the Jews? He has said all the right things on paper. He’s reaffirmed Germany’s “special responsibility” to Israel, promised to combat antisemitism, and proposed ambitious plans for Holocaust education and memorialization. But words are cheap in politics. And for those concerned with Jewish safety and dignity, history teaches that leaders must be judged not by what they say, but by what they do.

It is a cruel twist of fate that the country which once made the industrial murder of Jews a state project is today regarded, in certain circles, as a pillar of remembrance and a paragon of moral reckoning. Merz has branded himself a staunch ally of Israel, but in one recent interview, he delivered a statement that sent shivers down many spines: “Israel is causing us the greatest concern.” His choice to publicly scold Israel rather than stand unequivocally by its side felt like a gut punch. At a time when Israel is fighting for its literal survival, words like Merz’s embolden Israel’s enemies and sow doubt in the minds of its few true allies.

Jewish leaders in Israel and abroad have watched Merz with wary eyes. Many welcomed his commitment to Holocaust remembrance. But will he also stand shoulder to shoulder with Israel in its darkest hours, restoring trust shattered by Olaf Scholz’s mealy-mouthed diplomacy? Or will he be the man who, while draping himself in Israel’s flag, allows the floodgates of nationalist populism to rise, and once again puts Jews at risk?

These are not abstract concerns. Since the Hamas massacre on October 7, 2023, Germany has experienced an unprecedented eruption of antisemitism. Violent demonstrations, chants of “From the river to the sea,” Molotov cocktails hurled at Berlin synagogues, Jewish homes defaced with David stars, and Jewish students assaulted on university campuses have become horrifyingly routine. The president of Germany’s domestic intelligence agency warned that antisemitism has reached levels unseen since the Second World War. Berlin has witnessed the terrifying return of antisemitic mobs, slogans comparing Israel to Nazis, explicit threats to Jews, and public celebrations of Hamas terror.

Merz, like so many European leaders, wrapped his reproach in the velvet glove of international law, cautioning Israel to adhere to the protocols of war and to safeguard civilians. It is a familiar refrain: the moral sermon delivered from the comfort of a continent that has outsourced its security dilemmas and conveniently forgotten the price of its own historical failures.

Merz’s political DNA is steeped in the legacy of the CDU, a party that, since Konrad Adenauer, has anchored its legitimacy in the promise that Germany would never again abandon its Jews or its moral responsibility to the Jewish state. But history is not merely a backdrop. It is a tool, and it becomes a weapon of subtle distortion in the wrong hands.

Merz is a master of the coded message, the polished veneer. His speeches are salted with the language of solidarity.

The true test of Merz’s chancellorship will not be the eloquence of his speeches at Yad Vashem, nor the solemnity of his visits to Holocaust memorials. It will be whether he can resist the siren song of expediency, whether he will root out antisemitism not only where it is politically convenient but also where it is electorally costly. It will be whether he understands that solidarity with Jews is not an act of charity, but a fundamental measure of Germany’s own moral worth.

And let’s be clear: the kind that stands firm when rockets fall, that doesn’t flinch when mobs gather, and that never hides behind diplomatic platitudes while Jewish lives hang in the balance.

For Merz and Germany, there is no middle ground left. In this fight, you either stand with the Jewish people without compromise, or you stand in the long, dark shadow of history.