In a January 2015 article in DIE ZEIT Tina Hildebrandt writes critically and with irony about the Merkel government engaging experts in order to study what makes the German people happy, and how to move them in that direction. Anstupsen is what the experts call their method.
The experts are developing kleineEntscheidungshilfen – little decision making aids – to prod German citizens in that direction. That is precisely the problem, Hildebrandt writes: “An administration should persuade, not nudge.”
The article demonstrates how quickly Germans get angry when one tries to push them in a certain direction even if only with the help of “little decision making aids.” The slightest suspicion that any action aims to get a decision is immediately counterproductive.
The Germans sense any form of nudge or prod as drängen – as pressure, as pushing. Germans want to be persuaded. And when they make a decision they reject any kind of outside influence.
When persuading, Germans feel obligated to present the Gesamtbild, the full picture, all of the facts, the pretty as well as the less pretty, what works, what does not.
This is a Bringschuld, literally bring or deliver obligation. The German presenter does not wait until critical questions from the audience pull out or expose the weaknesses of an argument. In Germany it is a sign of competence, professionalism, honesty and integrity to reveal openly the weaknesses of what is being presented.
An attempt to conceal the weaknesses of an argument, offering, concept or solution leaves a German listener with only two possible explanations. The presenter either is not aware of the weaknesses, and is therefore not fully competent, or the presenter is indeed aware but trying to conceal the weaknesses, and therefore dishonest.
Either way the presenter will not persuade the German listener. And worse, the presenter‘s credibility has been damaged severely.
The history of Germany, as well as the historical consciousness of the German people, continue to impress and attract me. Today, just as strongly as a quarter century ago. You need only to go into a bookstore in Germany. Their books are not only solid, well bound and have great covers. The Germans have a very special relationship to books. There are always many older and newer publications about history, about their history. For those Germans who want to know their history there will never be a shortage of opportunities.
Every city in Germany, large and small, has museums in which history, but not only theirs, is told, is kept alive and relevant. In my early years in Berlin and Bonn I was astounded by how many fascinating and well-made documentary films were shown on German television. There was never a day without at least one in the evening. The German language is worth learning if only to read their books, to visit their museums, and to watch their documentaries. Although not a documentary, but one with the look and feel of one, was Heimat, by Edgar Reitz.
It was the summer of 1992. I watched episode for episode of Heimat. My eyes were glued to the television, my mind racing to understand every word, to pick up on as many nuances as possible. What an opportunity for me to gain insight in Germany of that time period, between the world wars. Time and again I had to turn to my then German wife to get the meaning of this or that word, for the dialogue was in the dialect of that region of Germany, the Hunsrück, along the Moselle River, between Trier and Koblenz. After every episode I was in a kind of trance, reflecting about what I had just taken in.
Then another time. I was in the car. Driving through Bonn. Evening. I turned on the radio. Deutschlandfunk. A book review was being read. It was about the immediate post-war years in then West Germany. The first sentences grabbed my attention. They flowed: complex, clear, rich, full of substance, critical, analytical, yet elegant. That feeling had come back, from when I was a student at Georgetown. History. German History. The history of another people. In another part of the world. And when I read the books by John Lukacs. Trance.
The reader continued. I was captured, drove further, but as if on a soft cloud just a few inches above the road. I think of the many war memorials in Germany. When I walk or ride my bicycle down the hill from the Venusberg in Bonn to the former government quarter on the Rhine, I pass through Kessenich where there is such a memorial.
It’s round, cement, encircling a lovely oak tree. Six pillars about eight feet high. Plenty of space between them to step in and out. The tops of all eight crowned – or held together – by a cement ring providing the tree with space to stretch out its branches. Just below the top each of the eight the face in cement of a German soldier with the iconic German steel helmet from the World War I.
Chiseled into the pillars, from the top to just about the bottom, are the names of the men who died in the two world wars. Six pillars, three sides each. Longs lists. Names. Of men, and boys, from that part of Bonn, from the neighborhood. Yes, boys, many no older than seventeen or eighteen years old. Sad. Especially sad for me, as one of five Magee boys, to read the same last names. Meyer. Schmitz. Leyendecker. Two, three, sometimes four of the same last names. Brothers. Cousins.
Imagine the deep, deep sadness of the mothers and fathers who saw their boys go off to war only to kill and be killed. 1914. 1915. 1916. 1917. 1918. Four long years for an entire continent. Then on the other sides of the pillars. 1939. 1940. 1941. 1942. 1943. 1944. 1945. Many of the same names. The sons and nephews of those fallen between 1914 and 1918. The Germans suffered, too.
Fehlerkultur – literally failure-culture – is defined by sociologists as the way in which societies react to failure (mistakes) and to those who commit them. A German psychologist took a closer look at Fehlerkultur within German companies.
In the past, innovation in Germany, he wrote, was the product of a long collective decision making process. The great inventions of the Industrial Revolution in Germany were very seldom the result of an individual genius, but instead the achievement of groups of men and women.
Problems (mistakes, errors, failures) were identified, analyzed and solved collectively, as a group. The final product was ausgereift – technically mature, well-engineered, sophisticated. American-styled “trial and error” does not exist in German thinking, which is why there is no accurate German translation for it.
The negative side of this German national-cultural strength is that a systematic, perfection-oriented group approach to solving problems (to innovation) requires patience and time. And time is not always offorded by today’s rapid market developments.
It is in such circumstances, according to the study, that the Germans inclination to blame those who take risks and inevitably make mistakes comes stronger into play.
Mistakes are deemed almost as a personal and professional transgression which demand being exposed, and the perpetrator punished. This heightens even more the innate German fear of commiting errors, which in turn stymies creative thinking.
The approaches used by strategy consultants – also known as management consultants – are advanced versions of those taught in business schools: data-driven analysis with some degree of attention given to the non-quantifiable human factor. The goal is the standardization of best practices within client companies, drawing also on insights gained from other clients.
The management consulting sector has grown dramatically since the 1930s, when the Glass-Steagall Banking Act was passed, limiting affiliations between commercial banks and securities firms. Management consulting grew out of the demand for advice on finance, strategy and organization. In 1980, only five consulting companies existed, and each had 1,000 consultants worldwide. By the 1990s, however, more than thirty firms entered the market each with at least 1,000 management consultants.
In 1993, McKinsey had 151 directors. This figure dramatically increased to 400 by 2009. From 1993 to 2004, McKinsey revenues more than doubled with 20 new offices and twice as many employees. McKinsey grew from 2,900 to 7,000 consultants scattered across 82 offices in more than 40 countries. In 1963, Boston Consulting Group had two consultants. By 1970 1980, 1990, 2000 BCG had 100, 249, 676, 2370 and 4800 consultants on its payroll respectively.
Sunday. September 26, 2021. Federal elections in Germany. Angela Merkel, after sixteen years in office, four consecutive terms, had decided not to run for re-election. In a few weeks we’ll know who her successor is.
Serge Schmemann, one of the world’s sharpest observers and analysts of events in Germany, and in Europe, wrote about Frau Merkel:
“These traits of honesty, modesty, discipline, persistence and reserve would seem almost quaint elsewhere, in New York City, say. But when someone facing almost insurmountable political odds — as a woman, an East German and a scientist — rises to the pinnacle of German power and stays there for four terms, there’s something for America and other democracies, where decent people are increasingly shunning politics, to learn and emulate.”
There are some things which the Germans do not address openly. One is money, salary, personal wealth. If they have much, they avoid showing it. Boasting, bragging, swaggering in any way is considered to be very bad taste.
Respected and honored are those with wealth who live it in a dezent (discreet) way. This is true especially for senior-level executives who demonstrate deep subject-area expertise combined with a staid, conservative manner or demeanor.
“Showmasters” and “speech-makers” in Germany can be entertaining, at times even motivating. But those who are truly listened to and valued are those who put substance (subject matter) before form (person).
Karl-Theodor zu Guttenberg, former Minister of Commerce, then Minister of Defense, is a case in point. When he became minister in 2009 it was clear from the outset that there was a rather slick public relations approach to highlighting his political work and private life.
Guttenberg was a constant presence in the German media: the worldly man about town at Times Square in New York City; the rough and tough man dressed in a special forces uniform visiting the troops in Afghanistan; and as a man of the people on the popular variety tv-show “Wetten, daß ….?”
Guttenberg became very popular very quickly. He had brought fresh air into stodgy German politics. Over time, however, he gained more and more critics, who began to question his expertise. When it was then proven that he had plagiarized in his doctoral dissertation, he resigned his office in disgrace and disappeared from the German political scene.