Kaput offers a compelling explanation for Germany's current economical struggles by observing its policy decisions around energy, tech, manufacturing, finance and immigration over the last thirty years. Münchau presents a robust, albeit sometimes controversial, assessment of Germany’s reliance on manufacturing exports, branding it as a neo-mercantilist fixation that neglected vital sectors like digital innovation and economic flexibility.
Central to Münchau’s thesis is the assertion that Germany’s economic model, heavily anchored in manufacturing exports of automobiles and machinery, has made the nation disproportionately susceptible to global market fluctuations. Empirical data reinforces his perspective, showing exports constituting roughly half of Germany’s GDP, a notably higher proportion compared to other major economies. This structural dependence, while historically profitable, now emerges as a distinct vulnerability.
The critique of Germany’s digital infrastructure emerges as one of Münchau’s most compelling arguments. Germany's persistent lag in digitalization is so bad it's hard to believe. Münchau attributes this shortfall to decades of strategic miscalculations, where policymakers favored traditional industries over investing in digital technology. He draws a contrast with Tesla’s dominance over German automotive giants in electric vehicle innovation to show the tangible consequences of Germany's technological stagnation.
Münchau also explores the entrenched networks between Germany's political elites, financial institutions, and major industries, framing this "old boys’ network" as a critical obstruction to economic dynamism. Using Landesbanken, regional public banks historically governed by politically appointed boards, as a case study, he demonstrates how political patronage often compromised sound financial decisions. The costly financial collapses of institutions like BayernLB and WestLB illustrate how such cronyism has stifled entrepreneurship and diverted resources away from potentially transformative economic activities.
The examination of Germany’s energy policy further amplifies Münchau’s critique, notably the controversial reliance on Russian natural gas. The Nord Stream pipeline, championed by former Chancellor Gerhard Schröder and criticized for its geopolitical naïveté, ultimately left Germany significantly vulnerable when geopolitical tensions escalated and Russia curtailed gas supplies in 2022. Münchau convincingly argues that the resulting energy crisis was foreseeable, illustrating how politically influenced economic policies can have severe long-term ramifications.
While Münchau presents a rigorous critique, the analysis occasionally tends toward excessive pessimism, potentially overlooking areas of genuine German strength. For example, Münchau pays relatively limited attention to Germany’s substantial contributions to global innovation, such as BioNTech’s groundbreaking COVID-19 vaccine and Berlin’s burgeoning startup ecosystem.
I can accept that focusing only on the missteps is a strategic choice to present a more easily digestible narrative, however there are so few caveats mentioned in his hypothesis that it becomes suspicious. Potential readers are well regarded at accepting this selective presentation with a big grain of salt.
Overall, Kaput serves as a pointed critique and an great stimulus for policy discourse, urging Germany to refocus its economic strategies to align with contemporary global realities. It's not the definitive text on any of the topics it covers, but it serves well as a light introduction to all of them.
If you're interested in the economic policies of Germany, but aren't sure where to start, this book might be for you.
If anything it's an enjoyable read.