TEHRAN – On 3 June 2026, one of the most unexpected outcomes in recent United Nations history unfolded. Germany, a country that for decades had regarded itself as a leading contender for a greater role in the world’s premier security body—and an aspiring permanent member of the UN Security Council—failed in its bid for a non-permanent seat. In the General Assembly vote for the 2027–2028 term, Portugal secured 134 votes and Austria 131, winning the two seats allocated to the Western European and Others Group (WEOG). Germany, by contrast, received only 104 votes and was eliminated in the first round. It was the first time in UN history that Germany had failed to win election to the Security Council, bringing an abrupt end to what many in Berlin had long considered a virtually assured outcome.
The significance of this outcome extends far beyond the loss of a single seat. The UN Security Council remains the world’s foremost decision-making body on international peace and security, tasked with determining responses to major global crises, authorizing peacekeeping missions, and imposing sanctions. Membership, therefore, is not merely a ceremonial distinction; it serves as a measure of a country’s diplomatic standing, political influence, and ability to mobilize international support.
For Germany, the contest carried particular symbolic weight. For more than three decades, Berlin has positioned itself as a leading advocate of Security Council reform and a prominent contender for a permanent seat. Yet this time, it failed to secure even a temporary seat against Austria and Portugal. Many observers viewed the result not simply as an electoral setback, but as evidence of a widening gap between Germany’s perception of its own global role and the way that role is viewed by much of the international community. The question now being asked in diplomatic and political circles is: Does the world still perceive Germany the way Germany sees itself?
Beyond the conventional narratives: Why did Germany lose?
Following the announcement of the election results, German and international media outlets, diplomats, and foreign policy observers rushed to explain the reasons behind Berlin’s unprecedented defeat. From the very first days, a range of political, diplomatic, and geopolitical factors were put forward to account for Germany’s failure—factors that were repeatedly cited in news reports, commentaries, and policy analyses, gradually solidifying into the dominant narrative surrounding the outcome.
Some German media outlets described the result as a “heavy defeat” (herbe Niederlage), a “crushing failure” (krachend gescheitert), “a slap in the face for Germany” (Eine Ohrfeige für Deutschland), or even a “political bombshell” (Paukenschlag). Such characterizations reflected a widespread perception in Berlin that far more than a non-permanent Security Council seat had been lost.
Within these prevailing narratives, the reasons for Germany’s defeat—notwithstanding its record of six previous victories in Security Council elections—revolve around a largely consistent pattern: its late entry into the electoral race, Russia’s active campaigning against the German candidacy, cuts in development and humanitarian assistance, an over-reliance on its economic and political weight, weak diplomatic lobbying, coalition-building and networking, the limited engagement of senior German leaders in the campaign, declining influence across the Global South, and an inability to build partnerships with non-aligned states, particularly in Africa, Asia, and Latin America.
Yet a more fundamental question remains. Are these factors alone sufficient to explain why a country that continues to regard itself as a leading contender for a permanent seat on the Security Council failed even to secure a temporary one?
What unfolded in the General Assembly was not merely the product of a few months of ineffective campaigning or a handful of controversial statements. Rather, the vote exposed a deeper trend that had been taking shape for years- a process whose roots lie in the transformations of German foreign policy, shifting international perceptions of Berlin, and the gradual erosion of a reputation that was once among Germany’s most valuable diplomatic assets. To understand why Germany lost, one must look beyond the conventional explanations and examine the less visible factors that paved the way for this defeat.
Reactions in Berlin: From blaming Russia to a crisis of credibility
Germany’s unprecedented defeat in the Security Council election triggered a wave of reactions and sharp criticism in Berlin. Foreign Minister Johann Wadephul attributed the setback in part to Germany’s steadfast support for Ukraine and Israel, as well as to Russian efforts to undermine Berlin’s candidacy. He argued that some of Germany’s foreign policy positions—particularly its support for Israel—had inevitably carried political costs within the UN General Assembly.
Chancellor Friedrich Merz, who had styled himself as Germany’s “foreign-policy chancellor,” sought to downplay the significance of the outcome and reaffirmed Berlin’s commitment to multilateralism and the United Nations.
Critics, for their part, were unconvinced by these explanations and held the Merz government primarily accountable for the defeat. In their view, it was less a consequence of Russian maneuvering than a reflection of growing unease within parts of the international community over Germany’s foreign policy and the perception that Berlin has applied double standards in responding to major international crises.
From a sense of entitlement and exceptionalism to the reality of the vote
In the eyes of many German language commentators, Germany’s defeat in the Security Council election was less the result of tactical missteps or diplomatic shortcomings than of a deeper problem: Berlin’s tendency to approach the world from a position of entitlement. In the analyses published after the vote, two themes surfaced repeatedly—arrogance and overconfidence. Critics argued that Germany had become so accustomed to relying on its economic strength, its central role in Europe, and its substantial financial contributions to the United Nations that it came to regard international support as something close to a given. The General Assembly vote, however, revealed a significant gap between Germany’s perception of its own standing and the way that standing is viewed by many other countries.
The Swiss newspaper Neue Zürcher Zeitung described this mindset as “Anspruchshaltung”—a sense of entitlement rooted in the belief that Germany occupies a more elevated position in international affairs than many states are prepared to recognize. The election, however, laid bare a different reality. For many UN member states, Germany may be a major economic power, but it is not necessarily a universally accepted political leader or a credible voice for the broader international community.
“Der Spiegel” made a similar argument in an article titled “Die Quittung für Arroganz und Prinzipienlosigkeit” (The Price of Arrogance and Lack of Principle), representing the outcome as a political reckoning. From the magazine’s perspective, the General Assembly vote conveyed a clear message: international standing cannot be purchased through economic power, multibillion-euro contributions to the United Nations, or claims to global leadership. In the eyes of many critics, Berlin has placed excessive faith in its economic weight while growing increasingly detached from the concerns and priorities of countries across Africa, Asia, and Latin America. Germany’s defeat by Austria and Portugal thus carried a significance that extended well beyond the loss of a seat. It served as a warning that much of the world no longer views Germany as the power with the moral authority it once claimed.
In an article for the Financial Times, Constanze Stelzenmüller, a senior fellow in the Center on the United States and Europe at the Brookings Institution, argued that Germany’s defeat stemmed from the widening chasm between its proclaimed principles and its actual conduct. Berlin entered the race under the slogan “Respect, Justice, Peace,” yet, in her view, each pillar of that message came under scrutiny. On “respect,” Chancellor Friedrich Merz did not even attend the annual session of the UN General Assembly—a gathering that many world leaders use to engage counterparts and build support. On “justice,” Germany faced accusations of applying double standards to international crises, particularly after Merz described Israel’s strikes on Iran as “the dirty work Israel is doing for all of us” while remaining reluctant to criticize certain actions by the United States. And on “peace,” Germany continued to champion the slogan even as it emerged as one of Ukraine’s leading military backers and accelerated a major rearmament program at home. For Stelzenmüller, the central problem was that an increasing number of countries no longer saw a convincing alignment between Germany’s declared principles and its actual conduct.
Germany’s miscalculation, therefore, may have been the assumption that periodic membership on the Security Council was almost a matter of course. Berlin had secured a seat roughly every eight years, while many smaller states may wait two decades or more for a comparable opportunity. Unsurprisingly, some governments have come to question the notion that Germany enjoys a natural claim to such positions. The vote of June 3 offered a clear reminder that no seat at the United Nations is hereditary. Perhaps the election’s most important lesson for Berlin is that legitimacy within the UN system is not bestowed—it must be earned through consistency, humility, and the confidence of others. In that sense, the General Assembly accomplished what years of critical commentary had failed to achieve: it forced Germany to confront the limits of its own assumptions. The reality of the General Assembly vote accomplished what dozens of critical policy papers had failed to do.
Germany’s diplomatic shortcomings and the limits of soft power
When the results were announced, Germany found itself confronting an uncomfortable reality. As Annalena Baerbock—the country’s former controversial foreign minister and now President of the UN General Assembly—read out the names of the winners, it was Portugal and then Austria that secured the two Western European seats. The German delegation watched in disbelief as a seat that many in Berlin had long regarded as almost routine slipped away.
Despite possessing one of the world’s largest economies and ranking among the United Nations’ most important financial contributors, Germany proved far less successful at coalition-building, securing political support, and assembling voting majorities. Since the end of the Second World War, owing to the sensitivities arising from its militaristic past, Berlin has exercised much of its international influence through financial assistance, development aid, and what critics have often described as “chequebook diplomacy.” The Security Council vote, however, underscored a sobering lesson: financial contributions do not automatically translate into political backing.
Many observers believe that the victory of Austria and Portugal was less a product of Germany’s temporary weakness than the result of years of targeted networking and strategic coalition-building. Austria benefited from its longstanding policy of neutrality, its non-membership in NATO, its role as host to one of the UN’s major headquarters, and its comparatively less contentious international profile. Austrian officials themselves attributed this victory to 15 years of sustained diplomatic engagement and an emphasis on dialogue, international law, and multilateralism. In the electoral contest, they indirectly leveraged their distinction from Germany to the extent that some media commentators even suggested that Vienna’s implicit campaign message could be summed up in four words: “We are not Germany.”
Portugal, meanwhile, capitalized on its deep historical and cultural ties with countries across Africa and Latin America, as well as the international influence of prominent Portuguese figures such as UN Secretary-General António Guterres and António Costa, President of the European Council.
Germany’s diplomatic shortcomings did not end with the vote itself. In the aftermath of the defeat, the German daily taz noted that some figures within the governing CDU/CSU reacted like sore losers and adopted an entitled posture toward the United Nations, rather than engaging in self-criticism. Wadephul’s remark that he “personally saw nothing to reproach himself for” was likewise interpreted by the newspaper as a refusal to accept political responsibility.
According to some UN diplomats, Germany had placed excessive trust in the verbal commitments of other nations, even though experience from UN elections shows that a significant share of such promises never materializes at the ballot box. In the final days leading up to the election, the Germans were in a last-minute scramble for votes so hard seeking support that, despite all their hostile rhetoric and breaches of trust in bilateral relations with Tehran, they even reached out to Iran in a bid to secure its vote.
In this context, the ironic term “Haribo diplomacy” gained traction on social media following reports that members of the German delegation had been distributing Haribo gummy bears on the sidelines of UN meetings. Critics have since used it as a symbol of Berlin’s superficial and ineffective efforts to gain political support while deeper problems in German foreign policy remained unresolved—an irony that points less to the actual distribution of sweets and more to the widening gap between Berlin’s political self-confidence and the stark reality of the UN General Assembly vote.
Baerbock’s legacy and feminist foreign policy: A bill paid with delay
In foreign policy, credibility and discredit are not squandered overnight. The consequences of diplomatic choices often emerge years later. For this reason, some analysts do not view Germany’s failure in the Security Council election as merely the result of a weak campaign or a late entry into the race. Rather, they see it as the result of a gradual accumulation of mistrust toward Berlin’s foreign policy. Writing for Euronews, Alexander Wolf, head of the Berlin office of the Hanns Seidel Foundation, argued that Chancellor Friedrich Merz’s government paid part of the political cost of policies established in previous years during the tenure of former Foreign Minister Annalena Baerbock.
Baerbock’s foreign policy, introduced under the banner of “feminist foreign policy” and emphasizing values and human rights, was intended to present a principled and norm-driven actor face of Germany.
However, from the perspective of many Global South nations, Berlin’s positions on the war in Gaza and the U.S. and Israeli strikes against Iran exposed what they regarded as double standards. The perception gradually took hold that Germany’s commitment to international law and ethical principles depended on the identity of the actor involved/ on the party to the conflict. Critics argue that the Merz government failed to correct this course, further accelerating the erosion of Germany’s international standing.
In this context, journalist Iris Zayram, writing for Tagesschau, notes that one of Germany’s most valuable diplomatic assets for decades had been its reputation as a defender of the rules-based international order. That reputation had been built through decisions ranging from Chancellor Gerhard Schröder’s opposition to the 2003 Iraq War to Berlin’s active role in the establishment of the International Criminal Court. According to critics, however, this political capital has steadily diminished in recent years. The Merz government’s cautious response to the ICC arrest warrant for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, Berlin’s reaction to Israeli and U.S. strikes against Iran, and the Chancellor’s controversial remark describing Israel’s actions as “the dirty work that Israel is doing for all of us” reinforced accusations of selective adherence to international law. This was despite the fact that a considerable number of legal scholars, as well as the research service of the German parliament, had questioned the legality of those actions under international law. For many observers, the widening gap between Germany’s professed commitment to a rules-based order and its actual conduct weakened a key source of its international legitimacy and contributed to the decline in support for its candidacy at the United Nations.
Viewed from this perspective, the June 3 vote was not simply a verdict on the performance of the Merz government. It also reflected perceptions of German foreign policy that had accumulated over several years. In this regard, some observers point to the controversy surrounding Baerbock’s appointment as President of the UN General Assembly. The decision, which came at the expense of veteran German diplomat Helga Schmidt, drew criticism in diplomatic circles in New York. Christoph Heusgen, the former chairman of the Munich Security Conference, had previously warned that Baerbock’s nomination could damage Germany’s standing within the United Nations.
When ideology overrides realism: The collapse of Germany’s Staatsräson narrative
Another recurring theme in critiques of German foreign policy is the questioning of the concept of Staatsräson—the notion that Germany’s unconditional support for Israel forms part of its raison d’état and historical responsibility after the Holocaust. For decades, this principle was presented as a moral imperative rooted in Germany’s past. Yet many critics now argue that, rather than serving as a source of moral authority, it has increasingly come to symbolize Germany’s double standards in the application of international law. Critics from across the political spectrum—from the Left Party (Die Linke) to even the right-wing Alternative für Deutschland (AfD)— now maintain that Berlin has adopted a selective approach to international law, invoking legal and moral principles only when they incur little political cost. Deborah Düring, a Green Party member of the Bundestag’s Foreign Affairs Committee, argued in an interview with ARD that Germany has repeatedly demonstrated a willingness to subordinate the very principles it claims to defend to political and ideological considerations.
These criticisms intensified, particularly in the wake of the Gaza war. Many countries in the Global South viewed Berlin’s unconditional support for Israel, its silence or ambiguous stances on certain U.S. and Israeli actions, as well as its posture toward developments concerning Iran and Venezuela, as evidence of a double approach in the application of international law. Markus Frohnmaier of the AfD described this approach as an “ideological and detached-from-reality foreign policy,” while leaders of the Left Party argued that Germany’s defeat was the price of remaining silent in the face of violations of international law. For many observers, the issue was not that Germany supported Israel. Rather, it was that Berlin simultaneously sought to portray itself as a universal defender of international law while applying those principles differently depending on the actors involved. As a result, what is described in Berlin as a “historical responsibility” is no longer widely perceived as a moral commitment. Instead, for a growing number of countries, it has come to symbolize the triumph of political expediency and ideology over the principles Germany has long claimed to defend.
Writing in Internationale Politik und Gesellschaft, Marcus Schneider, head of the Friedrich Ebert Foundation’s Regional Project on Peace and Security in the Middle East, argues that Germany tends to take international law seriously only when it aligns with its political interests and preferences. He warns that Berlin is gradually squandering one of its most valuable foreign policy assets: its soft power. In this reading, Germany’s failure to secure a seat on the Security Council represents the first tangible cost of that decline. Schneider further argues that Germany’s position could suffer even greater damage if the International Court of Justice (ICJ) reaches conclusions in the Gaza case that are unfavorable to Israel. Berlin has thus far hindered the application of coordinated European pressure on the Israeli government.
Conclusion
Germany’s failure to secure a seat on the UN Security Council cannot be dismissed as a mere electoral setback or the product of weak diplomatic lobbying. Many observers described the outcome as a “referendum on Germany’s place in the world” — a vote that revealed Berlin’s international influence and credibility, at least among a significant portion of UN member states, to be less substantial than Chancellor Friedrich Merz and parts of Germany’s political establishment had assumed. The debate that followed the election suggests that the core problem was neither a lack of resources nor economic strength, and certainly not an absence of diplomatic capacity. Rather, it exposed a growing crisis of legitimacy in German foreign policy. In the eyes of many critics, Germany did not lose the Security Council seat to Austria and Portugal; it lost it to the widening chasm between its moral claims and its actual conduct on the international stage.
The war in Gaza emerged as the most consequential test of Germany’s foreign policy credibility. Berlin’s unwavering support for Israel and its opposition to several international initiatives aimed at increasing pressure on the Israeli government reinforced the perception, particularly across the Global South, that Germany applies international law selectively. Concurrently, the Iran file constituted another test on which Germany faltered—one that became a benchmark for measuring the extent of Germany’s adherence to the principles it had itself championed for years.
At the same time, recent developments suggest that Berlin has already begun pursuing a different path to restore its international influence. The publication of Germany’s first National Military Strategy in 2026 under the banner of “Responsibility for Europe,” coupled with a significant increase in defense spending and a more assertive role in European security architecture, points that Berlin is redefining its position within the international order. However, the experience of the Security Council election serves as a reminder that hard power alone cannot substitute for political credibility and diplomatic legitimacy. If Germany aspires to restore its global standing, its foremost task is to bridge the gap between its professed principles and its operational conduct.
Perhaps it is fitting here to recall Henry Kissinger’s famous observation that Germany is “too big for Europe and too small for the world.” The defeat in the Security Council suggests that this proposition retains its relevance. To play an effective role in a turbulent world, Berlin requires, far more than leadership claims or historical prestige, consistent coalition-building, behavioral coherence, uniform adherence to its principles, and a measure of diplomatic humility.
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