There are thousands of ways to learn about a different culture, but one of the best is to watch people at work. Whether in offices, factories, or shops, watching how people discuss, solve problems, and interact with colleagues or customers reveals so many of the hidden, intangible aspects of a country. When I think over my own experiences in a German office, a number of moments come to mind, but one in particular stands out.

I spent a number of years consulting within various companies, helping people communicate, write emails, or prepare for important presentations. Part of the job required me to sit in on meetings, occasionally fill in the language gaps, and give a summary of communications once the main topics had been covered. Although many people hate meetings, I tended to enjoy the opportunity to sit in on these discussions, mainly because I didn’t have to do that much, but more than anything it was a window into Germany that few ever get. It was like people-watching meets performance art.

I remember one meeting in particular, where two team leaders presented the work of their department to the rest of the management team. I must have watched hundreds of similar presentations in my time with the company, but this one stands out from the rest, mainly because it was an unmitigated disaster. Everything that could have gone wrong did, from crashing computers, to slides laden with spelling errors, all compounded by the fact that the presentation itself was focused on the numerous failings within the department’s main project.

Once the pair brought their personal catastrophe to an end, the room remained in stunned and uncomfortable murmuring. Eventually people began to file out, until I was the last one left sitting quietly in the corner. I decided it wasn’t the time for feedback, instead I went to get a much needed cup of coffee. I walked into the kitchen area, a long room with a coffee machine and sink at one end and a flatscreen TV and whiteboard at the other, and reached to grab myself a cup. As I was rummaging through the cupboard looking for one of the better mugs, I realised I wasn’t alone. Standing at the other side of the room were the two managers whose presentation I had just suffered through. They hadn't noticed me as they huddled together, deep in conversation. I say conversation, but it was clearly an argument, although conducted in hushed tones, which somehow made the whole tableau seem all the more comedic.

As I waited for the coffee to dispense, I began to overhear what was being said, and although my German was spotty and the voices muted, it was obvious they were arguing over who was to blame for their very public fiasco. Suddenly, the voices became heated, and with it the volume of their debate, until they were essentially shouting at each other. I considered intervening, but I didn’t really know them, and it didn’t seem my place as the lowly English trainer. I just stood praying that the coffee machine would work a little faster so I could get myself away from the uncomfortable atmosphere. I’m not sure if it was their shouting, or just pure curiosity that made me look over at them, but when I did, I noticed something that almost made me laugh out loud: the backdrop to this acrimonious blame game was a rather large poster featuring a large pointing finger, and underneath it, declared in a bold font “WE ARE A NO BLAME CULTURE”.

As ironically hilarious as this scene was, I didn’t stick around to see the end of the argument, but the moment has stayed with me for almost a decade. Recently, I’ve come to wonder about Germany’s relationship with blame and responsibility. It often seems that when things go wrong here, apportioning blame is not only the focus of any post-mortem, but it’s also a massive trigger for many people. Obviously the culture of blame is an issue everywhere, after all, the poster decrying “finger pointing" that I remember so clearly was written in English, yet how Germans react to blame or merely the insinuation of blame, is somewhat different to anything else I’ve ever experienced. It not only upsets people, it makes them angry, and the combination of direct speech and anger makes for an explosive cocktail.

Therefore, blame is to be avoided - a sound strategy, but one which tends to manifest in a strange way, namely a desire to not take on any more responsibility than is necessary. The logic is pretty clear: If you don’t have the responsibility, you don’t take the blame. This makes a lot of sense, but what does it mean practically? Well, I’ve seen people refuse to sign for packages as it wasn’t “their responsibility” to look after them; parents refuse to keep an eye on other people’s children at the park for a few moments, for essentially the same reason; and once, when I attempted to return an item of clothing to a shop, having to hunt down a manager, as no employee was willing to be responsible for the return.

Although these examples may seem petty, and I certainly considered them to be at the time, I also recognise there is some truth in the reasoning that responsibility = blame. Again, working with Germans gave me an insight into this thinking. I've watched department managers give employees obviously flawed project briefs, then wash their hands entirely when it inevitably failed. Not only that, these same managers would lead the chorus of blame that inevitably followed the failure, safe in the knowledge that they themselves had no role, and therefore no blame, for the debacle. When you consider this, and the general desire to avoid extra responsibility, it’s clear that putting a signature on a package or the return of a defective piece of clothing may not be worth the bother.

That’s not to say Germans are allergic to taking responsibility though. That would be difficult to argue given that I’m writing this in the week that Chancellor Scholz, in an interview with Die Zeit, publically took responsibility for recent failures in government. Scholz is not alone in this, his predecessor Angela Merkel famously apologised to the whole country after an Easter lockdown fiasco during the pandemic. However, it’s worth noting that in both cases, the acceptance of responsibility was somewhat mitigated. In Merkel’s case, there was blame to be shared by different states, and even some by the public at large, who weren’t using the Corona app as much as they should. For Scholz, the admission of fault was neutered by the actual wording, with him stating "As Chancellor, I bear responsibility for the government.”, which feels like the reiteration of his job description, rather than any real contrition.

In fairness, I’m not certain we should measure any culture by their politicians, but the examples of Merkel and Scholz only adds to a growing body of anecdotal evidence I’ve accumulated, that suggests Germany has a somewhat unique relationship with blame and responsibility. I suppose it might take a little more investigation, perhaps I could collect more data points by trying to blame people on a regular basis. Then again, I sure there are far easier ways to get shouted at.

Proofreader: @ScandiTina

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