Once hailed as Europe’s rock during Covid and war, Ursula von der Leyen now finds herself lampooned as a wet blanket on the Commission’s bonfire.
Critics long ago dubbed her “the accountant of what heads of state tell her,” suggesting her only talent is balancing national leaders’.
Her grand slogan of a “Europe that delivers” rings hollow when the bloc’s rulebook is left unenforced.
Under her watch, the Commission has preferred cosy “dialogue” with recalcitrant capitals to tough rule-of-law action – an “opaque political process” that often leaves problem. Even a former Commission president, Romano Prodi, quipped that von der Leyen “cannot do anything to regain authority” if she’s seen as merely doing the leaders’ bidding.
Once the symbol of stability, Ursula is now painted even by her former supporters as a symbol of weakness and technocracy.
Her troubles began with Pfizergate.
At the peak of the pandemic Ursula personally texted Pfizer CEO Albert Bourla to fast-track a €35 billion vaccine deal. (Yes, the Commission chief herself was cutting procurement corners via text as she had done as a German minister.) When courts later demanded disclosure, the story got ugly: von der Leyen had deleted the messages once investigators sniffed around. EU judges have now ruled the Commission was flat-out “wrong” to withhold the texts.
The court excoriated Brussels for failing to explain why those apparently crucial messages could simply vanish, calling the ruling a “slam dunk” for transparency.
The outcome is a massive blow to von der Leyen’s reputation.
Even her own European People’s Party (EPP) got skittish: a Belgian whistleblower has urged the EPP to pull Ursula’s candidacy for a second term altogether while “criminal proceedings” linger. In other words, the saga that began as a vaccine contract has ballooned into a credibility check for Europe’s leadership.
The only saving grace might be that she can’t delete the verdict now.
Once the Green Deal flagship was up and running, this Commission casually pulled the emergency brake.
In June 2025 the Commission quietly announced it would withdraw its much-trumpeted Green Claims Directive – the anti-greenwashing law she championed in 2023.
This came straight after her own center-right MEPs (and would-be allies) threatened to torpedo it in Parliament. Commission spokesman Maciej Berestecki blandly announced “the Commission intends to withdraw the Green claims proposal”, framing it as a simplification measure.
In practice, Ursula’s team caved to a letter from the EPP calling the bill “overly complex”, a critique echoed by MEP Danuše Nerudová who praised the pullout as paving a “more balanced” approach. Meanwhile the Parliament’s negotiators (including Renew’s Sandro Gozi) pointed out that only they and the Council could halt the talks. The net effect: Brussels has effectively killed a key climate rule and bragged about it as if abating red tape. In eco-activist circles this “un-abandonment” feels more like greenwash. For a self-styled climate crusader, scrapping a major environmental law is hardly the act of a committed leader.
Then, again, bureaucratic blunders dog Ursula’s steps.
In April 2024 she anointed CDU MEP Markus Pieper as a €17,000‑a‑month Commission “SME envoy”, outranking career civil servants. When opposition erupted – even Commissioner Thierry Breton and High Representative Josep Borrell demanded a redo – Pieper quit on day one. The affair, quickly baptized “Piepergate”, became proof that Brussels must have zero sense of irony: all this drama over a handpicked job was seized upon as evidence Ursula “may yet falter” in her re-election bid. (Pro tip: if an ego-bait says it passed interviews, parliament cries “favouritism” – cue resignation.)
In short, the Commission treated MEP jobs like spoils of war. Publicly, Ursula’s office gamely said it “regrets” Pieper’s quitting, but Brussels insiders knew this was a clear sign she’d skirt internal checks.
From there it’s a short step to speculation: if one German ally squeaked through, who else is riding her coattails, and does any qualified Southerner, Easterner or woman get a look?
All the while Ursula has been busily remodeling the Commission into something more presidential than collegial.
European media noted she pulled a “coup” on the Commission’s own structure: stacking loyalists, overlapping remits and shrinking dissent so that Brussels looks less like a committee and more like her personal fiefdom.
Even legal scholars took notice: one EU law professor says von der Leyen has turned the Commission “from a collegial body into a presidential office”.
In theory, every lever sits at her fingertips. In practice, she has so many hands on the wheel that the vehicle barely moves.
Brussels pundits complain that the Commission nowadays dares to enforce EU law only after leaders prod them – and even retreats when it suits national interests.
The recent U-turn on Poland’s Article 7 procedure is a case in point: calling off sanctions for Warsaw’s court-packing, the Commission made critics say the choice was “mainly political”. Denmark and France complained that even on farm and climate rules it quickly folds to member-state grumbling. One could cynically ask: if the Commission is such a superpower, why does it still need permission from the Council (and a wink from von der Leyen) to do anything?
The deeper danger is that Ursula has actually given Brussels new muscles only to lose its grip.
Her Commission is pushing into areas like defense and foreign policy – fields it formally lacks competence in – yet Europe doubts it can rally fast enough.
Example: under Ursula’s watch the EU adopted a radical budget plan where Brussels authorizes every euro of regional aid. By 2028 nearly all Structural and Cohesion funds would land in national “pots,” payable only if each country meets Brussels’ homework.
Critics warn this institutionalizes a system of financial blackmail: meet our agenda or see your money stopped. That could centralize power in theory, but in reality it just breeds more backroom bargaining. When leaders can publicly treat the Commission as a lobbying outfit – even deride Brussels as “not Europe” but an “Axis of bureaucracy” – it’s a sign that national capitals aren’t taking Ursula seriously.
All these caricatures have a punch line: in a time of siege — war on the continent, energy shocks, climate catastrophe — Europe is betting on a leader who looks more symbolic than strong.
If von der Leyen seems timid about wielding the very powers she consolidated, the risk is plain. A weak head on a powerful EU can’t deliver unity on Ukraine or courage on the Green Deal. With Europe’s economy lagging behind, skeptics ask: who’s left to steer the recovery?
Even Ursula’s allies concede the optics are bad.
Just days after slapping herself on the back for “paramount” transparency, her Commission was already mulling an appeal on the same case – a classic Brussels play of pomp without follow-through.
As one EU commentator notes, if the Commission truly is quasi-dictatorial now, it’s one that orders from the mountaintop but trips over flat roads. Russia’s maneuvers, China’s pressure and climate deadlines won’t wait for better PR. Europe’s future demands heft and accountability — things von der Leyen promised but hasn’t delivered. The joke writes itself: Brussels has centralized power, and given it to a leader who keeps replying, “Let me get back to you on that.”