SERIES - At the table with the conservative who could pose a threat to Friedrich Merz: "I have come to the conclusion that I am still passionate about politics"

The man who recently led the most important parliamentary group in the German parliament is once again caught up in his past over lunch: his time as Minister of Health. It was one day last year, when Jens Spahn of the CDU invited us to the "Peking Duck," a Chinese restaurant in Berlin's Mitte district. Simple wooden furniture, Chinese vases. A woman wearing an armband approaches our table. She has questions about her brace.

He's no longer Minister of Health, Spahn says. But it's no use. The woman asks her questions anyway. And Spahn answers patiently. Only then does he turn his attention to his guest and the menu.

He's been going to the "Peking Duck" for several years. There aren't many good restaurants around the Reichstag, "unless you want to sit at the Adlon," and Café Einstein has deteriorated for the worse. "Back in the day," says Spahn, "at least they still had white tablecloths." He shares an anecdote about the "Peking Duck." He hasn't checked it, so he doesn't know if it's true, but it was a few years ago. Barbra Streisand was visiting Berlin after having resisted it for so long because of her Jewish roots.

The city's top restaurants were bustling with activity. At the "Borchardt" and the "Grill Royal," people were already polishing their cutlery in anticipation of her imminent visit. But Ms. Streisand didn't stop by. She went to the "Peking Duck."

Whether this is actually true or part of a modern Berlin legend is irrelevant. What matters more is the metaphorical truthfulness of the story: In the capital, people go to the "Peking Duck."

Spahn opts for the Gongbao chicken breast with roasted peanuts in spicy Sichuan sauce. I choose the baked duck with vegetables, which I'm happy to order spicy upon request. Spahn orders fried eggplant with coriander and garlic for starters. We drink mineral water, with the option of more exciting drinks at a later time. Perhaps white wine.

Was there a moment in recent years when Spahn, the conservative hardliner of the CDU/CSU, considered quitting? Absolutely, he says, in 2021, after the election defeat and the beginning of Olaf Scholz's chancellorship.

"You think: Do you still want it? Are you still up for it? It's a job, after all, and you have to want it 140 percent."

It's like journalism, I object. There's a saying: If you have a plan B besides journalism, you'd better stick to that plan. "In any case, I'm obviously still here," says Spahn. "And I came to the conclusion back then that I'm still passionate about politics."

That's an understatement. Hardly anyone is as passionate about politics as Jens Spahn, born in 1980. In his mid-thirties, he fought his way into the CDU executive committee with a contested candidacy. At 37, he became Minister of Health and remained there even beyond the peak of the coronavirus crisis. Spahn is now one of the most experienced politicians in the CDU, and at just 44 years old.

At the same time, few people are as reliable political tinderboxes as Jens Spahn. Recently, he called for the far-right AfD party to be challenged on its substantive issues, but not completely excluded from parliamentary proceedings. This caused a stir in political Berlin. SPD party leader Saskia Esken found his proposal "very, very outrageous and dangerous." However, it also received support, especially from the conservative ranks of the CDU. Shortly thereafter, the German domestic intelligence agency classified the entire AfD as "certainly right-wing extremist." Since then, Spahn has been more cautious in his statements. A subsequent retraction of this assessment has not changed this.

As with his statements, the same is true of Jens Spahn himself: He polarizes. Some see Spahn as a beacon of hope, unafraid to speak uncomfortable truths and who, despite his harshness, maintains a conservative line. Others, particularly those in the SPD and the Greens, consider this very harshness to be the problem and see him as a populist.

This quality is an advantage for the parliamentary group chairmanship. The CDU/CSU urgently needs someone who can raise the party's profile in parliament, someone who can initiate and win debates, especially at a time when the CDU/CSU is governing with the Social Democrats. But a parliamentary group leader like Jens Spahn also poses a threat to Chancellor Friedrich Merz.

No one will know this better than Merz himself. He held the parliamentary group chairmanship from 2000 to 2002, until later Chancellor Angela Merkel deposed him. She gave the then CSU party chairman Edmund Stoiber priority for the chancellor candidacy in the federal election, and in return, with Stoiber's support, she subsequently claimed the parliamentary group chairmanship for herself. Her move marked the temporary end of Merz's political career. Will Jens Spahn one day signal the definitive end of his career? Merkel used her parliamentary group chairmanship to make a run for the chancellorship.

Spahn's ambition is no secret. He is what used to be normal in the CDU and is now considered downright suspicious in some circles: power-conscious. He twice ran against Merz for the CDU party chairmanship, once in his own right, once as a supporter of Armin Laschet, and he cost Merz important votes from the conservative wing. Can someone like that subsequently work trustingly with the new party chairman and chancellor?

Spahn waves a hand in a routine manner as the fried eggplant is served. The consistency is just right, not too soft, and coriander and garlic give it a slight spiciness and an intense aroma. "We talked things out at the beginning," Spahn says of Merz. He helped "ensure that I could remain on the CDU executive committee." There are no major differences in substance. "And I simply think he sees that I'm doing a good job working with him."

Spahn did indeed play an important role in the coalition negotiations with the SPD. Merz relied on him. He would hardly have done so if the relationship of trust between the two had been completely shattered. Conversely, however, this doesn't necessarily mean that Merz blindly trusts Spahn.

In his new role, Merz must be able to define the party's positions. So, where should the CDU/CSU position itself politically today?

Spahn begins by discussing the changing political climate. "Germany is less left-wing than it has been in 30 years," he says. He believes there's a key reason why so many people are turning to the political fringes: More and more political decisions are being legalized or taken over by supranational courts, such as migration or wolf protection.

Hardly anything upsets people in Münsterland as much as the fact that the wolf has been able to spread unhindered. "When I tell people I can't do anything because it's European law, they don't say, 'Oh, right, Europe, we forgot about that, everything's fine.' Instead, they say, 'But we elected you!' If you tell people too often that we can't do anything because the system is like this, then they start to question the system." Politicians must solve the problems that concern people in the country.

Then it's about Merkel. Her entire governing style – "You know me" – being a bastion of stability, that was something that suited the Germans well for a long time. "She almost got an absolute majority with it once," she said; those were simply different times. But since the migration crisis of 2015 at the latest, many Germans have felt the need to discuss the political course much more intensively. Merkel's technocratic approach to politics was more of a nuisance. "There's nothing in life that has no alternative, not even turning seventy."

In Spahn's view, the government, now led by the Christian Democrats, must, in particular, effectively limit migration. He is convinced that Germany is still three to five years away from conditions like those already prevailing in France or Great Britain. "If we don't intervene effectively, we'll be heading for conditions like those in London. Hundreds of thousands of demonstrators supporting Hamas, and right-wing extremists going berserk on the other."

Things haven't gotten that far in Germany yet. "But we're moving in that direction. And either we'll have to slam on the brakes, a full stop, or this won't end well."

He explores what he considers to be bourgeois in passing in conversation about Donald Trump, who had not yet been elected at this point. He distances himself from his rude tone, as well as from left-wing caricatures of the politician. Trump has achieved a great deal in some areas.

In July 2024, he attended the Republican Party Convention in Milwaukee. "Then I read everywhere that I was a Trump sympathizer." German media frequently asked him afterward whether a dictatorship was imminent. The German journalists on the ground, however, had a more realistic view of Trump. "The man is, of course, a walking provocation. But it is in our national interest to build a functioning relationship with him."

The main course is served. Cold noodles are served with the dishes, and a bottle of mineral water remains.

"But you must know," I say to Spahn, "that at the end of the text it says: 'Mineral water was drunk.'"

"Then it has to say: 'Mineral water was consumed.'"

Spahn was just on vacation, so there was plenty to eat and drink. Currently, he's trying to limit himself to one meal a day. He says he doesn't count calories. When it comes to dessert, he's introduced a rule: "You don't always have to look for what you'd like best on the menu that's handed to you. Instead, you simply have to program yourself: You'll choose the healthiest thing."

Sometimes the healthiest things taste good.

Still, he's not in danger of becoming an ascetic like the former Health Minister Karl Lauterbach of the SPD. He speaks too openly about binge eating for that. "We all allow ourselves to be tempted. You come home in the evening, open the fridge, and put in the chocolate."

Recently, just before falling asleep, Spahn and his husband were watching old episodes of "Derrick" because "it's so nice to imagine yourself in the cozy 1980s Munich." Then it came, the temptation. Spahn was largely able to resist it. He ate a rice cake.

The duck stands out among the main courses, thanks to a complex process. First, air is blown between the skin and the meat, then it is cooked for a long time. It is then roasted in an oven for several hours. This makes the skin crispy and the meat juicy.

We drink another espresso. I have dessert with it, a cold mango soup with vanilla ice cream. Spahn declines. While browsing the menu, a dish catches my eye: "The Great Chairman Mao's Favorite Dish": pork belly with cinnamon, star anise, bay leaves, and ginger in soy sauce, served with poached Shanghai cabbage. A lavish meal for a party leader who imposed austerity on his fellow citizens and publicly celebrated it until the end of his life.

The dessert is served in a simple glass bowl and melts easily on the tongue.

The conversation ends with a discussion of political mistakes, especially Spahn's. He speaks openly about them. He made two during the pandemic: attending a fundraising dinner and buying a villa in Berlin-Dahlem.

"It didn't fit the seriousness of the situation." There were days during the pandemic, he says, "when I said to my husband as I left the house: 'I can't tell you whether I'll still be in office when I get back.'" However, he doesn't consider his statement about the "pandemic of the unvaccinated" a mistake. He would repeat it. The fact that vaccinated people could also transmit the virus isn't the point for Spahn. Rather, the point is that vaccinated people, unlike unvaccinated people, were protected against severe cases.

Can a Jens Spahn even imagine life after politics? "I hope so for Jens Spahn," he says. "I've met colleagues who never found their way out. Who, even in their old age, were still at all those events in Berlin Mitte. When politics comes to an end, I want a clean break."

He knows the constraints of political life well. "As a top politician, you basically have to be at a basic level of alertness from the moment you leave your front door, in every situation, even if it's a family trip to the lake. As soon as I've had two or three beers and notice something, that's the signal to me: 'You have to go home.'" He doesn't even exercise outside.

And now he has taken over the leadership of the CDU/CSU parliamentary group in the German parliament. The position that opened the door to the chancellery for Merkel and Kohl. The position that Merz must keep a particularly close eye on. A position at the center of power.

Months after our meeting, I call Spahn. I ask him whether what the CDU/CSU now wants to implement with the Social Democrats isn't a continuation of the previous government policy under Chancellor Olaf Scholz. The same energy policy, the same pension policy, more debt. "The 'traffic light' coalition started with a lot of euphoria," he replies, "then it became terrible. We're starting off much more soberly. And there's a chance that things will be much better than everyone thought. A good coalition agreement is one thing, good governance is another."

And if it doesn’t work?

“Everyone knows what responsibility we have.” One look at the polls is enough.