Die Zeit
July 1997
so here is Gerhard Schröder: one against all; all or nothing. Even party friends such as Johannes Rau or Rudolf Scharping are repulsed by his appetite for power. They cannot see what he stands for. In the party's eyes, he is fickle, self-absorbed and rude to people for whom he has no need. But the voters love him, as we have just seen with his re-election in Lower Saxony-handing him the prize of a run against Helmut Kohl in September. Why? What makes him so attractive? It cannot be his record in office; Lower Saxony's debt is huge.
Schröder is seen as a "hero of the media democracy." He is certainly a media natural. During public appearances he never appears stressed, angry, annoyed, uptight or, least of all, earnest. He makes jokes. Journalists like him. Rather than treating them like parasites he seeks their company. The media will become tougher, but Schröder is too experienced to complain.
He keeps his distance from the Bonn mire. Although he is his party's economics spokesman, he has scarcely taken part in the complex negotiations on taxes, debt and stalled reforms. He does not want unnecessary conflict. If he does seek it out, it is to show he can be a tough guy-witness his disagreement with Monika Griefahn, Lower Saxony's minister of the environment, who objected to his remark that environmental protection was a hindrance to economic growth. Unfortunately for Griefahn, her sentiments are no longer in vogue. Schröder told her off; his popularity grew.
Schröder trusts his instincts. This works in most cases-except when he is addressing his own party hacks. As a politician who is unwilling to accept the "German disease" and convinced that change is necessary, he does not stand a chance with those apparatchiks who only want to defend the welfare state. Sometimes he seems to be afraid of them. Since his separation from his third wife Hillu, who used to try and make him toe the party line, Schröder is "beyond left or right," a centred, cheerful person who lets things happen. Schröder can radiate optimism without making promises. This is his art. The small people can understand him. He speaks fluently and communicates even complicated matters with such ease that everyone feels good, from trade unionist to banker, academic to worker. Actually, Schröder has only one speech. It has three parts. Where are we now? Where are we going? What do we do about it?
Recently he spoke at a dinner organised by a big insurance company. His host summarised the life: born in 1944; grew up fatherless in modest circumstances (like Clinton); apprenticed at a hardware store; worked on building sites; went back to school to do his Abitur; became a leading member of the young socialists; a member of the Bundestag; SPD leader in Lower Saxony; premier of Lower Saxony since 1990. Schröder thanked his host, paused for dramatic effect and added: "You are a kind man, but you left out the most significant event of my life-my divorce."
His openness marks him off from other politicians. At a dinner in Seattle, his hostess asked him if he had kids. No, but a new partner, Schröder said. The American was pleased. She had just been divorced herself. The generation which considered it scandalous to be married for a fourth time (to journalist Doris K? aged 34) has either died out or votes Christian Democrat. Schröder disarms with the admission that he would go under without someone organising his private life: empty fridge, creased shirts, beds unmade. What politician would so unashamedly reveal such a private detail?
Schröder gives the impression that he can still make a difference, move things. He achieved this with his training scheme, where he badgered local employers into increasing places by 10 per cent. This deal was made public in ads signed by the industrialists-it earned Schröder valuable time on national television news explaining his "Lower Saxony model."
Schröder does not show off his social conscience; but he has one. "The social democrats have learnt from experience: when the economy is doing well, we all get more out of it. When the economy does badly, we suffer first. No social democract and no trade union can really protect us then." When Schröder talks like this, he is serious. His own experience shines through. As a child and a young man, he shared the experiences of the poor and powerless. The demand for social justice is so ingrained in him that not even the boss of General Motors escaped a lecture during a recent tour of the US (his first for 17 years, in which time he has visited Cuba three times). Roger Smith looked uncomprehending when Schröder pleaded for the involvement of workers in decision-making.
Schröder might have few principles, but he addresses reality. As premier of a poor state with 11 per cent unemployment, he cannot afford visions. Is he competent? "He understands the German economy better than Kohl, and his economic policy is less dependent on prejudice than Lafontaine," says one economist. He spends a lot of time chasing jobs and is always available for a businessman in difficulty. If necessary, he even reverses decisions made by his state government. Dow Chemical, one of the few big companies in his state, got him to scale down an increase in water rates.
Schröder has a reputation for not making up his mind in politics. J?gen Grossmann, a businessman who, with Schröder's help, saved a steel works near Osnabr?k, disagrees. Another businessman says: "He stuck to positions even when it was dangerous for him." Recent examples of the premier's lonely decisions are the euro-pipeline through a North Sea nature reserve and dredging the river Ems. The respect is mutual. Schröder enjoys the company of business people. "Business people want to do things, and so do I," he says. During his tour of the US, he discovered just how much needs to be done if Germany is to manoeuvre itself out of a corner in high technology. Louis Platt, head of Hewlett-Packard, even advised that the Germans should look to India as a model of high-tech engineering. Schröder defended Germany's economy and said the Americans saw it "in a worse light than it deserved." But in the digital world, Germans are seen as consumers, no longer part of the avant-garde.
Touring Detroit's deteriorating inner city, Schröder was shocked. He had not imagined the social contrast to be "that harsh." Afterwards he said: "There must be a way of taking the good things here-the optimism and the speed with which people react to change-and to leave out the bad things."
It is impossible to say which impulse is stronger: the will for power or the well-being of the German people. But this is what fascinates everyone. Schröder has something animal about him. A man with so little fear of risk on such a high wire, with no safety net-at least it is something to excite the punter. He can be an emotional man and likes films which make him cry. One of his favourites is El Cid: when Charlton Heston rides into the sunset at the end, an arrow in his chest, Schröder weeps like a baby, because "that'll be me one day."
