In Bavaria, Everything is Wurscht

Or: The Jovial Provincial Prince

The Franconian

Markus Söder is not Bavarian. He is Franconian. That is a difference that only Franconians and Bavarians understand — and one that Söder bridges by being more Bavarian than any Bavarian.

He wears lederhosen, although Franconians do not wear lederhosen. He speaks of the Free State as if he invented it. He defends Bavarian interests against Berlin with a fervor that even Franz Josef Strauß — a real Bavarian — would have found excessive.

This is the first secret of Markus Söder: he compensates. Whoever does not belong must be louder. Whoever comes from Nuremberg must defend Munich. Whoever is Protestant must hang crucifixes.

The Transformations

2018: Söder orders crucifixes to be hung in every Bavarian government building. Bavaria is a Christian land, he explains. The churches protest — of all institutions, the churches. The cross is not a symbol of identity, they say. Söder does not care. The cross hangs.

2019: Söder hugs trees. Literally. He has himself photographed hugging a tree. Fridays for Future is at its peak, the Greens are strong in the polls, and Söder discovers his green heart. Bavaria will become a climate protection state, he announces. Two years later he doubles down: climate neutral by 2040 — five years ahead of the federal government.

2023: The green trend is over. The heating law enrages citizens. And Söder? Söder now devours Greens for breakfast. Robert Habeck is the worst economy minister of all time, he declares. The heating law — "botched." Bavaria will abolish it as soon as possible. The trees he hugged in 2021 are no longer mentioned.

2025: Söder is a food influencer. He bites into bratwursts, poses with döner kebabs, sells "Söder-Döner" during the campaign. Not a folk festival where he is not photographed chewing. The message: I am one of you. I eat what you eat. I am close to the people.

The Machine

Bavaria is not a democracy in the usual sense. Bavaria is a machine, and the CSU is its operating system.

The CSU has governed without interruption since 1957 — alone or, as from 2008 to 2013 with the FDP and since 2018 with the Free Voters, with a junior partner. Two generations have grown up in Bavaria without ever knowing another government. That shapes a state.

The CSU has permeated Bavaria. It sits in the municipalities, in the associations, in the companies, in the clubs. Anyone who wants to make a career in Bavaria — in administration, in business, in culture — cannot avoid the CSU. Not because the CSU demands it, but because the network is so dense that one inevitably falls into it.

This is not a conspiracy. It is habit. Bavaria works the way it works because it has always worked that way. And as long as it works, no one asks whether it could be better otherwise.

The Provincial Prince

Franz Josef Strauß once said that the office of Bavarian Minister President was the most beautiful office in the world. He meant it ironically — half. Because in fact, the Bavarian Minister President is a provincial prince in republican garb.

He governs a state larger than Switzerland. He commands a budget of 84 billion euros — more than many European countries. He receives heads of state, flies to international conferences, meets with the NATO Secretary General. He is, in everything but title, a regent.

Söder enjoys it. You can see it in him. When he stands before the press, when he shakes hands, when he has himself photographed — with Vitali Klitschko, with FC Bayern — he beams. Not the false beam of a professional politician. The genuine beam of a person who has found his place.

The place is: center stage. Always center stage.

The Joviality

Söder is jovial. That is his trademark. He makes jokes, he laughs loudly, he claps shoulders. He dresses up for Carnival — as Shrek, as Marilyn Monroe, as Gandalf. He posts selfies. He has an Instagram presence that would make some influencers envious.

The joviality is real — and it is strategy. It makes him elusive. How do you criticize someone who does not take himself seriously? How do you accuse someone of power hunger who dresses up as Shrek?

The joviality is also distraction. While everyone talks about the Söder-Döner, they do not talk about substance. What is Söder's vision for Bavaria? What does he want to have achieved in ten years? Nobody knows. Perhaps he does not know himself. But it does not matter — as long as the pictures are right.

The Fiscal Equalization

There is one topic where Söder is consistent: money.

Bavaria pays into the Länderfinanzausgleich — the fiscal equalization system between German states. A lot. 12 billion euros in 2025. Since Bavaria became a donor state, it has transferred 140 billion euros to other federal states. Söder likes to calculate: 13 Elbphilharmonie concert halls. 34 stadiums for FC Bayern Munich. A mug of beer for every person on Earth.

He is not wrong. The fiscal equalization system has perverse incentives. Whoever earns more gives more away. Whoever earns little receives. This punishes success and rewards mediocrity.

But Söder conceals the other side. Bavaria was itself a recipient state — until 1986. The rise from agricultural backwater to high-tech hub was financed with money from the West. The highways, the universities, the research centers — they were not paid for by Bavaria alone. Now that Bavaria is rich, it no longer wants to share.

That is understandable. It is also hypocritical.

The Three Lions Alliance

January 2026: Söder appears in Berlin, together with Boris Rhein from Hesse and Manuel Hagel from Baden-Württemberg. The "Three Lions Alliance" — named after the lions in their state coats of arms. Together they want to reform the fiscal equalization system.

The staging is perfect. Three strong states against the rest. The diligent against the lazy. The lions against the sheep.

Only: What do they actually want? A federalism commission to examine "the imbalance." Perhaps state mergers. Perhaps fewer federal states. Perhaps something.

Anything concrete? Nothing. But the pictures were good. Söder sat in the middle.

The Substance

What has Söder achieved? He has been Minister President since 2018. What has changed?

The crucifixes hang. The family allowance — his prestige project — was halved and cut down to a one-off child start-up payment. The state care allowance was halved. The climate targets from 2021 are quietly forgotten. The digitalization of administration is stalling as everywhere. The schools lack teachers. The hospitals lack staff.

Bavaria lives off its substance. From BMW and Siemens, from Allianz and Munich Re, from medium-sized businesses that run their operations despite politics, not because of it. The CSU administers prosperity. It does not create it.

But as long as prosperity is there, no one notices. And as long as Söder is present, no one asks.

Thank Goodness We Live in Bavaria

"Thank goodness we live in Bavaria" — that is Söder's standard phrase. He says it on every occasion. Bavaria is at the top nationwide in almost everything: in the labor market, in the economy, in security, in schools and education.

It is true. Bavaria is doing better than most federal states. But is that Söder's achievement? Or is it the legacy of decades in which Bavaria invested wisely — long before Söder came?

The question is not asked. Because: Why? As long as things are running, everything is wurscht.

The Worst Result

December 2025: Söder is elected CSU chairman for the fifth time. 83.6 percent. His worst result.

In a normal party, 83.6 percent would be a triumph. In the CSU, it is a slap in the face. Horst Seehofer once got 87.2 percent and was considered weakened. Edmund Stoiber got 93 percent and felt insecure.

The CSU is not a normal party. It is a court. And at court, anything under 90 percent means: The courtiers are getting restless.

What is going wrong? The municipal elections in March. The AfD, which stands at 19 percent even in Bavaria. The young, who find the CSU boring. The old, who wonder what comes after Söder.

Söder reacts as he always reacts: with more presence. With more photos. With more döner. With the Three Lions Alliance. With daily interviews. With something, anything, that distracts.

The Courtier

There is a bon mot about Söder: He is the best courtier the CSU ever had — but one who wants to be king.

In 2021, he wanted to be the candidate for chancellor. Armin Laschet got the nod. Söder lost — and put on a brave face. He supported Laschet, half-heartedly. The Union lost the election. Söder did not say "I told you so." He did not need to. Everyone knew.

In 2024, he wanted to be the candidate for chancellor again. Friedrich Merz got the nod. Söder had to concede defeat — again. This time he did not put on a brave face. He needled, he carped, he criticized. Until Merz became Chancellor. Then Söder was suddenly loyal.

The courtier has learned: Who becomes king is not decided by the courtier. But the courtier can wait. He can make himself indispensable. He can govern his province well and hope that the king stumbles.

Söder waits. He is 59. He has time.

What Remains

What remains of Markus Söder? When he one day steps down — voluntarily or not — what will be said about him?

That he was present. That he was entertaining. That he struck the tone of the times — every tone, a different one each day. That he led Bavaria through no crisis because Bavaria had no crisis. That he changed nothing because nothing needed to be changed — or because he did not want to.

He will leave no traces. No reforms, no visions, no directional decisions. He will leave behind: pictures. Thousands of pictures. Söder with bratwurst, Söder with crucifix, Söder as Shrek, Söder with döner, Söder with tree, Söder everywhere.