Ursula von der Leyen, the EU chief stood between Boris Johnson and a Brexit deal

Did you know that the president of the Commission of the European Union was once a teen singing star? Back in the Seventies, the young Von der Leyen was a member of a Von Trapp-style troupe, Die Albrecht Familie (her maiden name of course). Her father, who also happened to be the minister-president (prime minister) of the German state of Lower Saxony, was on guitar and mum Heidi and various of their seven children knocked out folk songs for undemanding audiences. They released some records and even, in 1978, a single – “Wohlauf in Gottes schöne Welt” (“Welcome to God’s Beautiful World”), the B-side of which is the track “Alle Birken grünen In Moor und Heid” (“All birches are green in the moor and heather”). As you can probably tell, the family was Christian (Lutheran, that is), and rather traditional. OK, ABBA and Boney M kicked the hell out of them chart-wise, but they at least got into some German variety shows, and her dad did run the place where they make the Volkswagens, so not bad really.  

The Albrechts were not just good at singing. The family is what the British would term “gentry”, and UvdL, as she is known, has some distinguished kin. One brother, Hans-Holger, is CEO of the French media group Deezer. Uncle George was a distinguished conductor and grandfather Carl a psychotherapist keen on mystical consciousness who invented a new method of meditation based on something called “autogenic training”, which might or might not be of use before, during and after Ursula’s difficult conversations with Viktor Orban, semi-tyrant of Hungary. Further back, her antecedents include cotton merchants and plantation (ie slave) owners in South Carolina, by the name of Ladson, one of whom served as a senator and governor in the time of George Washington. Another cotton trader, Ludwig Knoop, set himself up in Russia and was made a baron by Tsar Alexander II.  

Ursula Albrecht was a bright enough student and studied economics at various institutions before switching to medicine, gaining a PhD in public health, of all things. It was at this time at the University of Hanover that she met her husband and father of her own seven children, Heiko von der Leyen, and she acquired the more formal aristocratic handle, though she was posh enough already. They were married in 1986, when she was 27.  

Some time later she was accused of plagiarism in her doctoral thesis, though the allegations don’t seem to have stood up particularly well. Much of her early family life was spent in America at Stanford University, where Heiko had a post.  

But she had also spent an intriguing year or two in Britain, studying at the London School of Economics in the late 1970s, and called herself Rose Ladson, apparently derived from her South Carolinian forebears. The reason was that her politician father feared (or was warned) that he and his family might be kidnap targets of the Baader-Meinhof gang, terrorists then at the peak of their noteriety. Although she lodged in London’s Mayfair with a friend of the family, she had her eyes opened as she recalled: “I lived more than I studied. No details, please! Only this: in 1978 I immersed myself for one year in this seething, international, colourful city. For me, coming from the rather monotonous, white Germany, that was fascinating.

“For me, London was the epitome of modernity: freedom, the joy of life, trying everything. This gave me an inner freedom that I have kept until today. And another thing I have kept: the realisation that different cultures can get on very well.” Maybe she had a slightly rosy experience, given the race riots that were soon to break out in Brixton and elsewhere, but you can take her point.  

Von der Leyen, despite her rich political heritage, did not get involved in her father’s Christian Democratic Union party until her  early 40s, naturally enough in Lower Saxony (by which point her father had ended a record-breaking 14-year stint as state premier. By 2005 she was in Angela Merkel’s cabinet, and was the chancellor’s longest serving senior colleague, all the way through until she left for the EU Commission in 2019. Reportedly they are loyal to one another and share much the same beliefs,  but aren’t close buddies: UvdL is closer to the powerful former finance minister and now speaker of the Bundestag, Wolfgang Schauble. She was occasionally talked of as a possible successor to Merkel, but her unhappy time as minister of defence, after 2013, didn’t help her case. Contrary to what a British audience might think, the German armed forces are far from a super-efficient machine. Indeed the post of minister of defence is regarded as something of a poisoned chalice. In her time UvdL is credited with investing in drones and cyber warfare and supplying arms against Isis; but she suffered the same unpopularity as many of her predecessors for waste, cost overruns and employing costly consultants. The first woman in the role, her “gaffes” about the quality of leadership in the Bundeswehr were probably amplified.  

Her previous time, in social affairs and employment, was rather happier and she did much for the feminist cause, persuading Merkel to accept gender quotas in the boardroom, for example, and expanding childcare facilities.  

When the time came for a new head of the EU Commission, Von der Leyen ticked all the boxes. As they paid for everything it was probably time to give the job to a German, she was from the right side of politics, balancing a liberal deal and a socialist in the other big Euro jobs, and she’d be the first female incumbent. Crucially she had the backing of Merkel and Emmanuel Macron. The European parliament grumbled but narrowly ratified her, and she joined just in time to be hit by the storms of 2020.  

She was almost destined for it. Her father had also served as one of the first European civil servants, and she was born in Brussels in 1958, at the dawn of the European dream. Carl Albrecht moved back to Germany only when she was 13, so she is almost literally a child of Europe. No surprise that she has declared herself in favour of a “United States of Europe”. She thinks Brexit doesn’t help with any of the world’s problems and has spoken disparagingly about “populist” politicians. Her Twitter bio sums things up succinctly: “European by heart.” With seven children and 27 member states to oversee, it’s not surprising that she has little time for leisure, though she enjoys spending time with her “third family” of pet goats, and baking.

Is she any good though? Her official German state biography praises her “radiant smile”, and her CDU party claims that she is a refreshing change “after years of anonymous EU leaders”. Her style, diminutive, smart with that perfectly coiffed blonde helmet is strong. Yet she seems very much the creature of the heads of government, and especially Merkel and Macron. She would not have even tried to push the boundaries of her Brexit remit, say, in the manner that a high profile activist such as Jacques Delors might have. Nor did she have the contacts or experience of a former premier, as Jean-Claude Juncker did.  

She certainly has her critics. Martin Schulz, say, former German social democrat leader and MEP, was scathing on her appointment: “Von der Leyen is our weakest minister. That’s apparently enough to become commission president.” Other insiders damn her with faint praise: “Her major strength in this crisis has been her knowledge of Europe, her multilingual and medical skills. But she’s much too wary of not bypassing EU competences and remaining in the legal framework” (as Boris Johnson no doubt discovered).  

In fairness UvdL could do little to stop panicky member states going their own ways on Covid, banning exports of medical kit and closing borders. She has now just about sorted out the EU budget, but Poland and Hungary look to be even more awkward members than the British, as they were always going to be. She certainly upset the Italian pleas for financial assistance via “Corona Bonds” as “just a slogan” but was merely reflecting what Berlin and The Hague were thinking, and money has always been a problem with southern Europe, even more so during the euro and banking crises a decade ago. Her ambitions to place the EU at the head of the fight against climate change is harmless enough, but her claim in her “State of the Union” speech that 2020 has seen the EU “turn fear and division between member states into confidence in our union” sounds comically deluded. Rows about money, migrants and human rights will disfigure the EU for years to come, Brexit or not. 

Her spin on Brexit, by the way, is that “something happened in the three and a half years of the Brexit period with the European Union that was positive because we got the clear impression that it is way better for us to be together; the unity of the European Union was strengthened and the knowledge that we can tackle the global challenges way better than each other on its own”. 

Tellingly, in 2018 she indicated why the deal the British were seeking was so threatening to the project: “We want a good partnership with Great Britain in the future. But if we define a special path for Great Britain, other parties like Norway will demand the same. Rules must be the same for everyone”. Norway isn’t in the EU, but she doesn’t want the Brexit deal to be so cushy that the Italians or the Swedes might fancy it. It’s not been an encouraging outlook for Boris Johnson, though she probably spared him her flattest expression of full federalism: “My aim is the United States of Europe – modelled on federal states like Switzerland, Germany or the US. I imagine  the Europe of my children or grandchildren not as a loose union of states trapped by national interests.”  

Maybe a more independent-minded, less starry-eyed EU leader might have found a better, quicker answer to Brexit, but it has to be said it eluded Juncker, Guy Verhofstadt and Donald Tusk, not to mention Michel Barnier. Some dismiss UvdL as a lightweight: but she did make Johnson sing for his dinner.