A memorable twelve months

When I found myself by the Thames in April 1993 the Daily Telegraph informed its readers that, as a former foreign-policy adviser to the German Chancellor, it was my rather undiplomatic mission "to convince us [the British] that we are not as important as we think." The German Ambassador heralding a "new German assertiveness?" Nothing, of course, of the sort. A recent Prime Minister continued her virulent warnings about German dominance in Europe, but, as I was soon able to ascertain, British self-confidence remained largely unruffled.

And indeed, the main topic of the more lively discussions was not bilateral. It was that ever-controversial issue: "Europe." I was lucky that my Minister had for years kept me busy with EC matters, as there was hardly a conversation with Members of Parliament, business representatives, journalists or students which did not concern the differing ideas of Germans and Britons on the further development of Europe.

My arrival in London coincided with the ratification of the Maastricht Treaty - after a House of Commons debate lasting almost 200 hours. During my introductory visit, Foreign Secretary Douglas Hurd told me that what was needed now was a "phase of tranquility." But this was to remain a pious wish. The public discussion on "federalist Europe" continued with undiminished vigour. And many, not just among the tabloids, had no doubt that behind this spectre lurked - the Germans. Even the most charming neighbours at dinner would ask me: "Why are you Germans so terribly federalist?"

Nor did it help much when I observed that, as a "federalist state," we had a relaxed relationship towards this kind of structure. Many Britons were concerned not just about preserving their national sovereignty, but why it was the Germans in particular who were always beating this drum - called "European integration" - and what their "hidden agenda" was. It sometimes took some stubborn argument to dispel at least the worst prejudices about Germany's European policy.

There were, of course, other important topics of the day. For example, Yugoslavia. At the Foreign Office, our great sin in recognising Croatia and Slovenia was not yet forgiven and forgotten. And yet, after presenting to the House of Commons Foreign Affairs Select Committee our ideas on Bosnia-Herzegovina, I was astonished when the Chairman concluded the session with a blunt: "Ambassador, we think they should fight it out."

"Public diplomacy" is sometimes a delicate business. On one occasion, during a visit to Berlin, the first President Bush spoke of Germany as a "partner in leadership." Just a few hours later, I was invited to a BBC television studio and asked by a slightly irritated presenter whether we Germans were now trying to compete with Britain's "special relatiohship" with America. My reply - that I had not understood the American President as inviting us to engage in a beauty contest - seemed to satisfy him (and, I hope, the audience) for the moment.

To British relief, we Germans were, during those years, intensely occupied with our own problems. When I used to meet representatives of British business to describe the difficult process of rebuilding in the new eastern states and encourage investment there, I found not only an attentive audience, but a genuine interest in the success of our efforts.

One generally rewarding sphere of activity was culture - unless some political hair could be found in the soup. A major exhibition organised in later 1994 with the support of German companies and the Times,"The Romantic Spirit of German Art," was an overwhelming public success - except with one leading newspaper, which declared the German Romantics all harbingers of National socialism; and there we were again.

Naturally people also wanted to know how the German Ambassador saw events in Germany. I was not spared some unpleasant questions - for example, after the Solingen incident. And the subject of right-wing extremism disturbed not just the Jewish community, with which - above all through the help of my friend Lord Weidenfeld - I maintained close contact throughout.

Many meetings with leading figures in British intellectual life remain unforgettable for me: for example, a dinner with Sir Isaiah Berlin and a long conversation with Sir Karl Popper a few weeks before his death. We talked about the end of the Weimar Republic and the aberrations (not just in those years) of the German mind, and discussed Hegel and Marx. I especially remember a solemn service at Coventry Cathedral to mark the anniversary of the bombing of Dresden, at which the  Duke of Kent read the epistle and the German Ambassador the gospel

When, after just 21 months, I left my post again to become state secretary at the Foreign Office, my wife and I were able to reassure our British friends that we certainly were not tired either of London or of life.