Ex-ABBA singer likes Friedrich Merz? He's the exception

ABBA was considered yucky among us boys. An uncool dance band for parents, retirees, and the "Kessel Buntes." While girls idolized Smokie, Harpo, and Bay City Rollers, ruffians scratched "Kiss," "Black Sabbath," or "Die Pörpel" into school furniture with compass points. Even at university, it seemed odd to me that a fellow student had wallpapered his room with posters of Agnetha, Björn, Benny, and Anni-Frid. He practically preached, praising them as saviors of world culture. Now I've acquired enough taste to unashamedly admit: Karsten, you weren't entirely off the mark. I, the ex-blasphemer, have long used an ABBA playlist on vacation trips to lift the spirits of my fellow travelers to such an extent that it inevitably deteriorates at the destination.

Der Spiegel spoke with Björn Ulvaeus, the ABBA member who was once married to the blonde Agnetha (something I envied during periods of hormonal imbalance) and who co-wrote all of his hit songs (the profits from which I continue to envy, given the price of chocolate).

In the interview, Ulvaeus came up with a headline off the cuff, which, while not quite as catchy as “Mamma Mia,” “Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!”, “Money, Money, Money,” “Honey Honey,” “Ring Ring,” “I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do,” and “On And On And On,” still exudes the drive of an absolute smash hit: “Friedrich Merz is Europe’s hope right now.”

You see, ABBA puts you in a good mood. Friedrich. Merz. Hope. Europe's. Irresistibly refreshing. The pop magician, who just turned 80, has it all. The Spiegel staff responded: "You surprise us." Oh yes. At first, I, too, thought the global star was merely trying to illustrate the extent of continental disorientation with his thesis. But he actually recognizes the potential for happiness in the incoming chancellor and his faltering homeland: "I know that, for historical reasons, you have a certain pacifism almost in your blood. But now you must take the lead. Many Europeans are hoping for that."

But as befits savior figures, this one also has no meaning in their own country. A survey was published at the same time as the interview. 21 percent of Germans consider Merz trustworthy. "Only one in five" was the common saying. "Only"? That's an enormous number, isn't it? At least for someone who played the big shot on national debt, migration, NGOs, and the energy transition, and who then cashed in on all his promises after the polls closed. The last hope many have for Merz is that he might at least have been too big for Taurus. It's unbelievable that one in five legally competent people still say they will believe this man's future words of honor. Even less-than-talented con artists have a fair chance in Germany.

"After dark days, light comes," Merz told the people at Easter. "We can all contribute to a better mood in our country." He made a face as if he'd just realized how to combine the desire for cheerfulness with the realities of the coalition agreement: The entire nation opens its windows and plays ABBA. "Wa-Wa-Wa-Wa-Waterloo." Very loudly. "Finally facing my Waterloo." Who's in?