Berliners call it the Washing Machine. Yet lately the sound coming from the giant cube of concrete and glass where German chancellors work has not been a whirr of efficiency but a clank of discord. Whether against European neighbours, American allies or partners in Germany’s own three-party coalition, the tight circle of advisers that has ringed Olaf Scholz since he took office 16 months ago seems to have a penchant for getting into fights.

Many of these troubles could have been avoided. When eastern Europeans railed at German slowness to back Ukraine last year, the chancellery responded generously, but so slowly that the impression of foot-dragging never lifted. Germany needlessly annoyed France, the closest of allies, by repeatedly failing to consult it before acting. The Biden administration bridled at the Scholz team’s stubborn insistence that Germany would send tanks to Ukraine only if America did the same. In March the exasperation came from Brussels, after Germany suddenly blocked an environment bill. All along the Greens, liberals and Social Democrats inside Mr Scholz’s government have bickered. Every few months he has had to pull them into a days-long private pow-wow to restore peace.

The problem lies partly with Mr Scholz’s own high and dry style, and partly with the tightness of the ship he runs. In contrast to his predecessor, Angela Merkel, who tended to arrive at meetings first, leave last and in-between spend hours chatting across a wide network, the current chancellor likes his meetings short and narrow, preferably one-on-one. Unusually for a world leader, Mr Scholz expects to be home for an undisturbed dinner with his wife every day, followed by a good book and an early bed.

Chief among the praetorian guard that surrounds the chancellor is Wolfgang Schmidt, a former lawyer who has been Mr Scholz’s right-hand man for 20 years, starting with local politics in their hometown of Hamburg. So close is the odd couple—one big and bearded, the other bald and compact—that a columnist tellingly tagged them “Wolaf”.

Mr Schmidt makes up for the chancellor’s quiet reticence with equal and opposite ebullience, working phones and Berlin’s bars until the early hours. But the broadness of Mr Schmidt’s portfolio—he is chief of the chancellery’s 600-plus staff, and has some oversight of national intelligence and communication strategy—can make him appear more of a fireman and salesman than a policymaker.

Others in Mr Scholz’s core line-up include Steffen Hebestreit, his official spokesman; Jörg Kukies, his top economic adviser and go-to person for European affairs; and Jens Plötner, a smooth former diplomat who serves as his foreign-policy adviser. Although the inner circle is male-dominated, Mr Scholz is reputed to encourage women colleagues. His office manager, Jeanette Schwamberger, an economist who held the same job in his finance ministry, often joins her boss on foreign trips. Women head four of the chancellery’s seven departments. Mr Scholz named Sarah Ryglewski, a Social Democratic MP, as a minister of state in the chancellery, and seeks her advice on parliamentary affairs and regional politics. His closest counsellor may be his wife, Britta Ernst, who has had a similarly long career in politics and local government.

There have been few leaks from Mr Scholz’s chancellery. “They form a tortoise around him,” complains one think-tank observer, speculating that the chancellor’s long, unhappy experience as a relative outsider in his own party has taught him to be extra-cautious. Another lesson he may have learned is to keep more of an ear to the street than to the experts. Asked in a recent interview about Joe Biden, the American president, Mr Scholz tellingly responded that he felt a bond because both hold a special concern “for the middle class”. Mr Hebestreit, his spokesman, says his boss prefers opinion to advice.

But the tightness of the chancellor’s circle can both make it impermeable to useful information and create a siege mentality. His lieutenant, Mr Schmidt, despite posing as a genial friend of the press, tends to blame journalists for twisting the truth rather than admit that the chancellery might have communicated poorly or put forward flawed policies. The fact that Mr Schmidt himself holds so much sway could be a problem. Foreign-policy advisers have long pleaded for the creation of a National Security Council to bypass systemic rivalry between the chancellery and the foreign ministry, a change acutely needed as Germany is increasingly forced to abandon its traditional wallflower stance in geopolitics. But talks broke down last month over where to house such a council and who should run it. One foreign-ministry diplomat mutters, “We can’t have Schmidt making security policy, too.”

A bit of extra attention could also help to fend off troubles inside the coalition over domestic policy, where strains are inevitable between the tight-fisted Free Democratic liberals who run the finance ministry and the Greens who run economic policy. “Merkel had dedicated people whose whole focus was to make sure her coalition partners were happy,” says an official who served the previous government. “No wonder Scholz has problems.”

Intimates of the chancellor are more forgiving. Despite the sharpest regional crisis in decades, they say, Germany’s international alliances have grown stronger over the past year, not weaker. Although Mr Scholz’s three-headed coalition is the most complex to date in a German national (as opposed to state) government, very few people believe that it is going to fall. And in public opinion the chancellor has managed to hold the centre, repeatedly proving to have a better sense of Germany’s pulse than his critics. ■