The German Putin Paradox: Why So Many Germans Admire Strongmen—and Why Entrepreneurs Shouldn’t Fall for It

I’ve been living outside Germany for over 25 years, but I work with Germans every day. I know their fears, hopes, and blind spots intimately. One pattern continues to baffle me: the strange hero worship of Vladimir Putin.

It is as baffling as the love of the Germans for David Hasselhoff. Just much more sinister.

It’s not marginal, either. Among clients, colleagues, and even otherwise reasonable entrepreneurs, there’s a persistent thread of admiration for the Russian leader. Many seem convinced that Putin is a misunderstood patriot, betrayed by the West. They believe the war in Ukraine is not Russia’s fault, but NATO’s. And while I too think the West has made strategic errors—especially with its chaotic expansion eastward—I find the lionizing of Putin deeply disturbing.

Let me explain.

I’ve worked with Russians, Ukrainians, and Belarusians since the early 2000s. I hired many developers from across the post-Soviet world and continue to do so to this day. I brought dozens to the US, the UK, and other countries. What united almost all of them was a deep distrust of Putin. Even then, they were uneasy. Whoever could leave did so—without hesitation.

Their unease made sense. To understand where it came from—and why so many in Germany seem blind to it—we need to look at the broader geopolitical stage. This dangerous admiration for Putin doesn’t come out of nowhere. It has roots in Western foreign policy miscalculations, particularly NATO’s eastward expansion.

Misreading the Map: The NATO Misstep

Let’s get one thing straight: NATO's expansion wasn’t exactly a masterclass in strategy. Who, honestly, thought it wise to induct North Macedonia into the world’s most powerful military alliance? The rationale seemed more bureaucratic than strategic—“If you apply, and we like your reforms, you're in”—with little regard for historical realities.

Russia, for better or worse, is a country with a thousand-year history of preemptive strikes when it feels threatened by its neighbors. It is not a democracy. It doesn’t aspire to be one. It doesn’t care for Western norms about international law, transparency, or popular sovereignty.

That doesn’t excuse the invasion of Ukraine. But it makes the geopolitical tension almost inevitable. If you know that your neighbor keeps a loaded shotgun under the bed and has used it before, you don’t knock on his window at 2am to show off your shiny NATO badge.

So yes, I’ll concede: Western hubris played a role in escalating the crisis. But that context should never become justification. It’s merely part of the reality we must face if we’re to understand Putin—and reject him.

The Rise of Vladimir Putin: A Brutal Autocrat

To grasp the danger of Putin worship, we need to revisit how he came to power—and what he did with it.

He rose in the rubble of Yeltsin’s chaotic presidency. Before he was president, he served as deputy mayor of St. Petersburg, where early reports of corruption and mafia ties surrounded him. From there, he moved to lead the FSB, Russia’s successor to the KGB. He was then hand-picked to succeed Yeltsin as a loyal placeholder.

But he wasn’t content to be anyone’s puppet.

Putin consolidated power rapidly and ruthlessly. Within a year, he launched the Second Chechen War—a brutal campaign marked by indiscriminate bombings, torture, and extrajudicial killings. Many observers believe the Moscow apartment bombings of 1999 were staged by the FSB as a false-flag operation to justify this new war. These claims remain unproven—but disturbingly plausible.

From there, he built a regime that neutralized the media, eliminated political opposition, and rewired the Russian state around personal loyalty and fear. Dissidents were jailed or exiled. Oligarchs were either brought to heel or crushed. And state violence began to extend far beyond Russia’s borders.

A Regime That Kills Abroad

What makes Putin's regime uniquely dangerous isn’t just its internal repression—it’s the willingness to carry out assassinations in foreign countries, often with horrifying consequences.

In 2006, former FSB officer Alexander Litvinenko was poisoned in London with polonium-210, a rare and highly radioactive isotope. He died an agonizing death over several days, while the radioactive trail contaminated multiple locations across the city—including airplanes. A UK public inquiry concluded that the assassination was “probably approved by President Putin.”

But it was Salisbury in 2018 that truly shook Europe’s sense of security.

Sergei Skripal, a former Russian double agent, and his daughter were poisoned with Novichok, a military-grade nerve agent developed by the Soviet Union. The poison had been smuggled into the UK in a fake perfume bottle by two GRU agents posing as tourists.

The fallout was catastrophic. Parts of the city were locked down. Over 10,000 people were at potential risk of contamination. Public buildings, a restaurant, and even a cemetery were sealed. A British woman, Dawn Sturgess, later died after spraying the discarded bottle on her wrists, thinking it was actual perfume.

A chemical weapon attack was carried out in broad daylight on British soil. The response from Moscow? Shrugs, denials, and propaganda.

And still, there are Germans who praise this man.

Germany’s Strange Love of Strongmen

So what explains this disturbing paradox? Why do so many Germans admire a man like Putin?

Part of the answer lies in Germany’s cultural relationship with authority. The postwar period did not erase the deep-rooted German respect for strong leadership. In some it became mere bureaucratic obedience, in others a deeper psychological craving for order and decisiveness. Putin appears to many as the archetypal “strong man”—disciplined, fearless, protective of his nation.

Then there’s the anti-American reflex. Since at least the Iraq War and the Snowden revelations, a large segment of the German public has become skeptical of U.S. intentions and leadership. They see Western democracies as hypocritical, weak, and corrupted by identity politics and globalist agendas. In contrast, Putin is seen—wrongly—as a man of tradition, sovereignty, and strength.

But this is fantasy.

Putin is no conservative savior. He is a kleptocratic warlord who uses Christian imagery as a prop while jailing priests, jailing Jehovah’s Witnesses, and enriching a criminal elite. His popularity among Germans isn’t about realism—it’s about projection. He is who they wish the West still was: unbending, unapologetic, and ruthless.

The Libertarian Response: Trade With All, Worship None

So what’s the lesson for those of us building a life outside of Germany?

Don’t fall for strongman propaganda. Understand these regimes, yes. Even trade with them. But never idealize them. This is not just a moral stance—it’s a strategic one.

Tyrants make unreliable business partners. They change the rules overnight. They seize property. They disappear competitors. Today you’re an honored investor; tomorrow, you're on a blacklist. Your business, your visa, your bank account—nothing is safe when you're operating under arbitrary power.

That’s why I advocate for a libertarian foreign policy mindset:

Trade with everyone. Idolize no one. Form alliances where they benefit both sides. Don’t exclude nations out of ideological purity—but don’t mistake brutalism for virtue.

This applies to Putin. It applies to Xi. It applies to MBS and others. Respect them only as much as reality demands—and never more.

Don’t get me wrong. I do not mean that Putin should be dragged before a war crimes tribunal and treated like a global pariah. I don’t believe in forcing Western moral frameworks onto every nation. Yes, the chemical attack on British soil demanded a strong response, and I wish it had been stronger at the time. But we must also accept that other societies operate by different historical and psychological logics. We cannot afford to only speak with nations who think like us.

Putin sees himself as a modern Ivan the Terrible—or a new Stalin. In his mind, he has a clean conscience and is acting out Russia’s destiny. But that’s exactly why we must assess him for what he truly is—a man of unchecked power with deeply dangerous ambitions. As entrepreneurs, as investors, as global citizens, we must keep a clear eye. Don’t turn him into a saint. Stay alert.

Final Thought: Realism Over Romance

If you’re building a life or business abroad, you must assess risk with clear eyes. Forget the romantic myths. Forget the Western media fatigue. Look at regimes as they are, not as you wish them to be.

Germans who admire Putin are not thinking clearly. They are projecting their frustrations with their own system onto a foreign figure who doesn’t deserve their loyalty. It’s the same error as worshiping Silicon Valley billionaires or Western prime ministers: confusing charisma with competence, and authority with virtue.

There is a better way. You don’t have to choose between decaying democracies and rising autocracies. You can choose freedom, flexibility, and truth.

But that takes courage.

Trade with everyone. Idolize no one.

That’s the lesson of our age.