Friedrich Merz, a towering figure in both stature and ambition, declared victory late Sunday night as exit polls projected his Christian Democratic Union (CDU) and its Bavarian sister party, the Christian Social Union (CSU), clinching 29 percent of the vote in Germany’s snap federal election. At 69, the brash, business-savvy lawyer from Sauerland is on the cusp of becoming chancellor—an outcome that would cap a rollercoaster career marked by bitter setbacks, lucrative detours, and a relentless return to the political fray.
For Merz, this moment is less a coronation than a vindication. Sidelined two decades ago by Angela Merkel, his longtime rival within the CDU, he retreated from politics to amass a fortune in the corporate world, only to re-emerge as the party’s savior after her 2021 exit. Now, with Germany’s economy faltering and its postwar consensus fraying, Merz promises a sharp turn rightward—a vision that has propelled him to the brink of power, even as it stirs unease among centrists and cheers from the far-right fringes.
Born in 1955 in Brilon, a quiet town in western Germany, Merz grew up in a prominent Catholic family, the eldest son of a judge. Politics beckoned early; as a teenager, he joined the CDU’s youth wing, honing a conservatism rooted in Christian values and free-market zeal. After studying law and briefly serving as a judge, he pivoted to corporate law, a move that foreshadowed his later knack for bridging public office and private gain. By 1989, at age 33, he had won a seat in the European Parliament, where his command of financial policy began to shine.
Merz’s ascent accelerated in 1994 when he entered the Bundestag, quickly establishing himself as a forceful voice on economic matters. In 2000, he took the helm of the CDU/CSU parliamentary group, a perch from which he championed tax cuts so simple, he once quipped, they could fit on a beer coaster. But his rise collided with Merkel’s. After the CDU lost the 2002 election, she ousted him from the leadership role, relegating him to deputy status. By 2004, bruised from their power struggle, Merz stepped back, resigning his post and, in 2009, leaving parliament altogether.
What followed was a 12-year exile that proved more lucrative than humbling. Merz plunged into the private sector, joining the law firm Mayer Brown and stacking up boardroom roles at giants like BlackRock Germany, HSBC, and AXA. As chairman of BlackRock’s German arm from 2016 to 2020, he oversaw billions in assets, cementing his reputation as a transatlantic dealmaker. He also chaired Atlantik-Brücke, a group fostering U.S.-German ties, and rubbed shoulders with global elites at Bilderberg meetings. A licensed pilot with two planes to his name, Merz flaunted his wealth—most memorably in 2022, when he flew to a politician’s wedding on Sylt, drawing jeers for ostentation in a climate-conscious nation.
Yet politics never fully released its grip. Merkel’s centrist reign, which saw the CDU embrace refugees and green policies, rankled Merz and the party’s conservative wing. Her departure opened the door. In 2018, he returned, narrowly losing the CDU leadership to Annegret Kramp-Karrenbauer. A second defeat in 2021 to Armin Laschet stung, but Laschet’s electoral flop that year cleared the path. By January 2022, Merz had the job, steering the CDU back to its rightward roots with a platform of tax relief, deregulation, and a hawkish stance on Ukraine—he pledged Taurus missiles to Kyiv within days of Sunday’s vote.
His campaign was not without stumbles. Last month, Merz sparked outrage by pushing a tough immigration bill with tacit support from the far-right Alternative für Deutschland (AfD), breaching a postwar taboo. The gambit failed in a narrow Bundestag vote, but polls suggest it didn’t dent his base; the CDU held a double-digit lead over Chancellor Olaf Scholz’s Social Democrats (SPD), who slumped to a historic low of 16 percent. The AfD, with 19.6 percent, notched its best national result, a shadow victory that complicates Merz’s coalition math.
Merz’s achievements—reviving a listless CDU, outmaneuvering rivals like Bavaria’s Markus Söder—are undeniable. Yet his path to power reveals a man of contradictions: a fiscal conservative who rails against bureaucracy, a Catholic traditionalist who courts controversy with offhand remarks about migrants (“little pashas”) and asylum seekers (“social tourists”). Critics call him a German Trump, a charge he shrugs off; supporters see a pragmatic fix for a nation battered by recession and migration debates.
As coalition talks loom, Merz faces a fractured landscape. The SPD and Greens, at 14 percent, are weakened but defiant; smaller parties teeter near the 5 percent threshold. A two-party pact may suffice, but a three-way deal could test his dealmaking chops. On Sunday, he stood before cheering supporters, his baritone steady, his gaze fixed on a prize once denied. For Merz, the chancellery now hinges on the negotiations ahead—a final hurdle for a man who has spent decades proving he won’t be counted out.