And then Merkel suddenly spoke in Berlin dialect: That was how it was in the midst of the dramatic election of the Chancellor

It begins with a rustling. Then it falls silent. It's around ten o'clock when Bundestag President Julia Klöckner steps up to the microphone and announces the results of the first round of voting. It's now clear: Friedrich Merz has failed. He believed he would win by a landslide. Now he stands there, frozen. No absolute majority. Failure.

A murmur runs through the hall. Merz, who has so often been said to be invulnerable, loses control of his face. His neck turns red. He blinks. Once more. Then he looks briefly at the floor.

Angela Merkel , wearing a pale yellow blazer and a serious expression, rises from the VIP box. "That's never happened before," she says quietly to the group, a kind of Berlin amen to the political turmoil currently sweeping through the country. Next to her is former Bundestag President Rita Süssmuth, who later simply says, "Something's broken."

The worst start of a coalition ever

In the plenary hall: chaos. The CDU bench is in shock, while the SPD isn't sure whether they're irritated or amused. Olaf Scholz, still chancellor until the handover, puts his hand over his face as if to say: "This too! Please, no second Grand Tattoo!"

The first round of voting for the chancellor election: a failure. For the first time in the history of the Federal Republic. And no one seems prepared for it on this legendary Tuesday.

18 votes. That's how many were missing. And suddenly, the question that overshadows everything is in the air: Who refused to follow Merz? Was it an affront from within his own party? A frontal attack from within the ranks of the CSU? Or tactical interference from somewhere in between?

While Federal President Steinmeier waits outside Bellevue Palace for the black limousine convoy – in vain – Merz and his family disappear inside without a word. His wife Charlotte and their daughters are gone.

SPD and CDU/CSU begin hectic talks. A second election is needed, as quickly as possible. But it's not easy. A new round of voting requires two-thirds of the votes in parliament. Without the Greens and the Left, it might be impossible. Cliques are forming. Advisors are whispering. Britta Haßelmann of the Greens declares with a pinched face that they won't vote for Merz, but they won't deny him the platform for a second attempt. Reason of state, they say.

Members of parliament sneak past camera crews. Some hide behind briefcases, others chat with conspicuous composure. The corridors reek of uncertainty. A national crisis, some say. The worst start for a coalition ever. While the mood is tense, a group of schoolchildren walks past above the dome of the Reichstag – giggling, taking selfies, completely unaware that a government is currently shaky below.

Who caused Friedrich Merz to stumble?

Then events unfold rapidly. A motion is prepared, and the process for a second election is set in motion. A tactical feat. Lars Klingbeil briefly appears before the press at 2:05 p.m. and says: "We'll hold a second round of voting." Then he disappears again. Five minutes later, Jens Spahn arrives and repeats Klingbeil's words. He looks confident. A risky maneuver, the journalists whisper among themselves. What if Merz fails again? New elections?

At 3:15 p.m., the plenary hall fills up. The members of parliament return. Merz enters the chamber, looking around searchingly, as if he could read the answer to the disaster in the faces of the others. His opponents, on the other hand, sit relaxed in their seats: Alice Weidel stretches, Alexander Gauland boredly reads the newspaper.

Then the vote. Tension again. Silence again. Friedrich Merz is elected. Chancellor of the Federal Republic. With a razor-thin majority. Long-lasting applause follows. What remains after this day in the Reichstag, however, is a political hangover. The question of who nearly brought Merz down in the first round of voting still hangs in the air. And the certainty that this government is already shaken before it even starts.

What was planned as a triumphal procession turned into a disaster with historic repercussions. A day intended as a symbolic footnote is now seared into the collective memory. Friedrich Merz, the new chancellor, has won the battle – but the price is high. And the ground beneath his feet: fragile.

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