Mathias Döpfner
Chairman and CEO, Axel Springer
Author, Dealings with Dictators: A CEO’s Guide to Defending Democracy
Intuition is the most underestimated tool for leadership. Numbers are the consequence of good decisions, but great decisions often come from gut instinct.
Summary
In this episode of Leadership Matters, Alan Fleischmann sits down with Mathias Döpfner, Chairman and CEO of Axel Springer, to discuss his transformative leadership in the global media industry. Döpfner shares insights on Axel Springer’s digital evolution, the future of journalism in the age of AI, and the vital role of press freedom in defending democracy. He also explores the intersection of trade policy and geopolitics, advocating for a “Freedom Trade Alliance” to counter authoritarian influence.
Mentions & Resources
Guest Bio
Mathias Döpfner is a German journalist, book author, and the chairman and CEO of Axel Springer SE, owner of the media brands Politico, Insider, and Morning Brew in the US, Bild and Welt in Germany, and the classifieds platforms StepStone and Aviv. It is the largest digital publisher in Europe and active in over forty different countries. He joined the company in 1998 as editor-in-chief of the German daily Welt and became CEO in 2002. Ever since, he has pushed the digital transformation of the company. Today, over 85 percent of the group’s revenues and 95 percent of profits come from its digital business. He is a member of the Board of Directors of Netflix and Warner Music Group, serves on the steering committee of Bilderberg conference, and holds an honorary office at the American Jewish Committee.
Transcript
Alan Fleischmann
Welcome to Leadership Matters on SiriusXM and at leadershipmattersshow.com. I’m your host, Alan Fleischmann. I’m joined today by someone who has shaped the global media landscape and redefined what it means to lead in an era of rapid digital transformation. Mathias Döpfner is the Chairman and CEO of Axel Springer, one of Europe’s largest media companies and a global force in journalism. Under his leadership, Axel Springer has undergone a transformation that has expanded its reach far beyond Germany and Europe, creating a global media organization that owns outlets such as Politico, Business Insider, and Morning Brew. He is also the author of Dealings with Dictators: A CEO’s Guide to Defending Democracy, a timely book that explores the dangerous consequences of doing business with autocrats, along with a bold proposal for values‑based trade policy.
I’m excited to have Mathias on the show today to discuss his background, his influences, his career, and the many lessons he has learned along the way. He is one of the wisest CEO‑statesmen I know in the world, and I’m excited for us to learn from him, listen to him, and apply some of the things that he recommends.
Mathias, let’s start from the very beginning. You are such an inspiration. I was with you several times in the last few months, and one time in particular you stood up among some of the most significant and formidable CEOs and captured not only a voice of reason, but you inspired many of them to look up and think more strategically. I couldn’t help but think, let’s get into those moments. But let’s first start with your background, a little bit about the beginning of Mathias. You grew up in Offenbach am Main in West Germany. Tell us what life was like around the home, what your parents did, any brothers or sisters, and anything you’d like to share that’s special about the place you grew up.
Mathias Döpfner
Alan, it’s a real pleasure to be with you. Too many compliments, of course; that can only lead to disappointments. But let’s take my childhood.
It was very uneventful. Offenbach is a small provincial town that basically has all the disadvantages of a metropolis—no security, lots of traffic jams—and at the same time all the disadvantages of a very small village. To be very honest, it was a very unpleasant place to live. I have no nostalgic memories about my hometown. I never wanted to come back, and I was happy to escape as early as possible, when I was 18.
I was an only child. My father was an architect who basically had no clients. He was a wonderful architect but commercially very unsuccessful. My mother tried to help him. I went to a public school where people made jokes about me because, when I was 14, I was already six foot eight. You can imagine how bad that is: you want to be average, not the less coordinated guy in sports classes. In soccer I was never picked; I always had to wait on the bench until someone said, “OK, if we need to take Mathias, we take him.”
So it was more a gray, uneventful childhood. But I had wonderful parents. My father was warm‑hearted. My mother was extremely supportive, although she could be very tough. She always said, “The ultimate form of love is criticism.” She criticized me a lot, but it was always founded on very reliable love. That is very important about my childhood: I could always rely on my parents’ love.
Alan Fleischmann
So a little bit of adversity too, especially with your mother. If you got too soft, she made sure you didn’t, and that you knew there was work to be done to build what needed to be built inside and out.
Mathias Döpfner
She challenged me constantly, but not in an unhealthy way. She was demanding and criticized me here and there, but I could always count on her good advice. It was not at all an authoritarian education. Basically, my parents said, “If you really want to do it, do it. We think it’s stupid, but if you want to do it, do it.” That was smart, because there was no need to oppose my parents; I could take their advice without feeling I had to rebel.
Alan Fleischmann
That’s wonderful. Any mentors along the way? Teachers?
Mathias Döpfner
No, not at all. School was horrible. It was a very left‑leaning school with lots of experiments. We didn’t get grades; we had to discuss what we wanted to discuss in class. Basically, I didn’t learn anything. Everything I know in life is despite my school days, not because of them. It was a very strange experience. I was really happy when I could escape Offenbach and school. Then I went to Frankfurt to study, and that’s when life started.
Alan Fleischmann
When you were growing up, did you feel you were in the midst of East–West tensions—the Cold War, East and West Germany—or not really?
Mathias Döpfner
No, that didn’t play a role at all. When you are young, your world is much smaller. My traumatic experiences were in sports classes. I wanted to impress my friends, and since I couldn’t do it in sports, I started to play instruments. I became a musician and played bass guitar. My interests were music, literature, and theater. That was my world. I didn’t care about the Cold War, politics, or East and West. That played no role.
Alan Fleischmann
It speaks to the idea that young people should focus on the humanities and civilization and things that matter to their heart before they get involved in things that matter to their brain. You studied music and literature and theater in Frankfurt and then Boston, right?
Mathias Döpfner
Yes. Since I was 14, I played in bands. I wanted to become a jazz bass guitarist. Jaco Pastorius, Stanley Clarke, Marcus Miller—those were my heroes. I practiced a lot and played in various bands. Then I thought I needed the best possible preparation for a career as a professional musician. I learned that the only serious jazz college in the world was the Berklee College of Music in Boston. I applied and spent a little less than a year there.
It was an interesting experience, because I found out that my ambition was bigger than my talent. Some people, with much less practice, played much better than I did. I thought, is my perspective really to become a middle‑of‑the‑road, average funk bass guitarist? No, that’s not it.
Fortunately, I had started very early to write. My second passion was writing—text, language. So I started to write about music, and that’s how I became, step by step and unplanned, a music journalist, a music critic. I constantly went to concerts—jazz, pop, opera, classical, everything. Basically every evening I had an assignment to go somewhere and write about it, which I thought was pure pleasure. I didn’t even understand why I was paid for it. Getting free tickets, listening to great music, and expressing my opinion felt like a privilege. In parallel to my university studies, I wrote an article every day, and I didn’t understand what stress meant, because for me it was pure privilege.
Alan Fleischmann
Did you get your PhD before you became a music journalist, or did you do it in parallel?
Mathias Döpfner
I did it in parallel. I wrote my first article for a local newspaper in Offenbach at 16. When I was 18, I applied as a freelancer at the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, a national quality newspaper with quite a high reputation, particularly in the arts section—the New York Times of Germany, so to speak.
I called the head of the culture section. His secretary took the phone and asked what I wanted. I said I’d like to apply for a job as a freelancer. She asked, “What are you doing?” I said, “I’m preparing my Abitur, and in parallel I’m writing.” She said, “You know what? You finish your Abitur, then you do your doctorate, and then you can call again.” That was quite a shock.
I tried a second time, this time through someone who knew someone in the music department. I got an appointment and gave them some texts. They seemed to like them, apart from the orthography. I wasn’t able to write German appropriately—full of mistakes, no commas, no correct semicolons. But apart from that they liked it, and that’s how I started to be, for roughly 10 years, a music critic, which I loved.
Then suddenly something else happened.
Alan Fleischmann
Exactly—something you didn’t plan. But your love of music continues.
Mathias Döpfner
Absolutely. I’m still very passionate about it. I’m not playing anymore because it’s too frustrating to see degrading skills. But I love to go to concerts, to talk to musicians, and sometimes I still write about music.
Alan Fleischmann
That’s amazing. And you were at Gruner + Jahr, right?
Mathias Döpfner
Yes. After my time at the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, I developed concepts for magazines. I wanted to start my own magazine—that was the fantasy of a 23‑year‑old. I made a concept and traveled around Germany, showing it to various publishers. One of them was the CEO of Gruner + Jahr, a publisher owned by Bertelsmann, then the second biggest media company in the world.
He said, “I think your concept won’t work commercially, but you seem to be an interesting guy. Would you like to work in my office, as my chief of staff?” I said, of course. That’s how I entered, for the first time, the management side of the business.
Alan Fleischmann
Then you were editor‑in‑chief of the Berliner Zeitung.
Mathias Döpfner
Yes, that was an interesting project. It was a newspaper launched in the GDR, originally a communist newspaper approved and censored by the ruling SED party. Gruner + Jahr bought it right after German reunification and tried to transform it into an East‑West newspaper addressing East and West German readers equally. Quite an experiment, and it didn’t work.
In my role as chief of staff to the CEO, I kept fighting for the continuation of the paper. They wanted to close it down, and I kept saying, “If we try this, it could work.” At a certain point the CEO said, “Stop always giving me advice. Go there and try it yourself.” That’s how I became, at a very young age, editor‑in‑chief of this East‑West newspaper. I went to Berlin, and it was quite an experiment.
Half of the newsroom were former East German communists, the other half West German leftists—supporters of the 1968 student movement. The last thing they were waiting for was a super‑young guy sent from headquarters. I had a tough time, but it was one of the most intense periods of my business life. Every day mattered; it was all or nothing. Every text, every headline, every photo felt like the most important thing in the world. The intensity, and the effort to build bridges between East and West readers and within the editorial team, was incredibly fascinating.
At a certain point there was a crucial moment in my business life. An article was submitted that was very stereotypically anti‑Israel and, in my view, antisemitic. I said, “I’m not going to run this article. Almost everything is possible here; we have ultimate freedom of views. But we should have three principles we never betray. First, we support German unification, not the division of the country. Second, we support the free‑market economy. Third, and closest to my heart, we never tolerate antisemitism or anti‑Israeli stereotypes.”
I said that in a conference. The head of the political department yelled at me: “With these values you can go straight to Axel Springer. They have that in their contracts.” At that moment I had zero clue that Axel Springer—about which I wasn’t particularly interested—had in its contracts that you must support the right of existence of the State of Israel. I found it extremely interesting. So I started to read and learn about Axel Springer, and a few years later I ended up there as editor‑in‑chief. But that moment—still working for the competitor and being confronted with “With these values you can go straight to Axel Springer”—I still see as more than a coincidence, almost a sign.
Alan Fleischmann
Looking from where we are today, there’s a lot of connectivity there, and obviously a lot of fire‑training. What years were you actually at the Berliner Zeitung and then the Hamburger Morgenpost?
Mathias Döpfner
The Berliner Zeitung that we’ve just been talking about was from 1994 to 1996. Then I was moved to Hamburg to become editor‑in‑chief of a local daily newspaper. The Berliner Zeitung was a weekly; this was a daily newspaper in Hamburg, the Hamburger Morgenpost, from 1996 to 1998.
In 1998 I got the call from Axel Springer: “Would you like to become editor‑in‑chief of Die Welt?” Die Welt was the national quality newspaper next to the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, which I always read and found fascinating. Being positioned in Berlin, the German capital, it was the only quality newspaper located there. I thought that was the best thing that could happen to me.
On that call, I remember my phone connection was interrupted. I was in a taxi and got the offer on the phone. Right before I could say, “Yes, I’d love to do it,” the line was cut. I waited a few seconds; he called back, and then I said, “Yes, I’d love to. Let’s meet and discuss the details.” A few weeks later I was in Berlin preparing for this new job.
Alan Fleischmann
That’s amazing. I remember the first time I heard of you was when you came over to Die Welt. I had lived in Germany, in Bonn and then back and forth to Berlin when the Wall came down and later. I started reading Die Zeit. It was hard for me to read the German, but I struggled with it. I could never read Der Spiegel well, but I tried to read Die Welt—not easy either. I could read Bild, but I couldn’t always get through the more cerebral things. But I was a fan, and I remember when you came over to take over Die Welt as part of the family.
Mathias Döpfner
You should read the other big German brand of Axel Springer, Bild. That’s the product with short sentences and the kind of German that people actually speak—normal, non‑academic people. That’s perhaps the best way to adopt the language.
Alan Fleischmann
Bild is my mainstay. I hide it so people don’t think I’m not a Spiegel reader, but I always have it with me in Germany because I feel good with it.
Mathias Döpfner
It’s a good companion.
Alan Fleischmann
You’ve had this storied career at Axel Springer, and it’s been an amazing transformation. Before we dive into that, tell us a bit about the company and its history, its purpose. What was it like when you first arrived? You felt a cultural connectivity, but it sounds like you were also given a mandate to transform, not just maintain the platform and the company, as you eventually became CEO as early as 2002.
Mathias Döpfner
I remember that very well. When I started at Die Welt in 1998, I thought it would be a radical but good idea to transform Die Welt into the first digital‑only media brand.
I remember when I checked out the first news website in 1995. It was like an epiphany. I realized this was going to replace paper. Why publish on paper? You have to print, respect deadlines, put it on trucks, bring it to newsstands or subscribers’ mailboxes. Too complicated. Digital is the future.
So when I became editor‑in‑chief, I thought: we’re not the number one, not the market leader. Let’s attack the leader with a digital‑only product. I proposed that to the executive board. It was immediately and wholeheartedly rejected. “This young guy is obviously crazy.” I was close to being removed from the job before I started. So I was frustrated.
When I became CEO of the company a few years later, decided in 2001 and effective in 2002, I thought, OK, now I have the responsibility for the entire company. I was pretty inexperienced as a manager; I could hardly read a balance sheet. But I knew: newspaper journalism is going to change. We have to emancipate journalism from paper. Let’s try to radically transform this company—which was then a purely German, purely analog newspaper and magazine publisher—into a mainly digital, one day even digital‑only, international publisher.
So in 2001 I defined the strategy: digitization and internationalization. Those were the two pillars.
The company was not doing well when I became CEO. It was loss‑making, generating about 200 million euros in losses. No bank would give us a single euro. The first thing I had to do was radically restructure: sell or close unprofitable assets and reduce the number of employees by almost 40 percent. It was tough. On top of that, we had an existential crisis with our second‑biggest shareholder, who was trying to negotiate a deal that would have ruined the company. I fought with that shareholder and exercised a put option, which led to his insolvency—the biggest bankruptcy in German business history so far.
You can imagine: for a young, inexperienced musicologist or musician, quite a challenge. In this nightmare and multiple‑crisis situation, I thought: this is the opportunity to implement the transformation and digitize the company. If we survive, we may be better positioned than our peers and at the forefront.
At the beginning there was a lot of opposition. I remember the headlines; they made jokes about me. “The young generation is making experiments, but it will never work.” Old colleagues warned me: “Nice try, but you’ll be fired in six months.” Somehow I survived. Then the first steps of digitization started to pay off. People saw traction and said, “Maybe it’s right,” and things began to move in the right direction.
Alan Fleischmann
That was really bold. It’s still bold today. I can only imagine how bold it was then, because you were pushing very hard towards digital when others weren’t. They were playing at it. You didn’t just say, “We’re going to go digital.” You said, “We’re going to be the largest digital publishing house, and we’re going to be global.” You looked at borders differently too. You seemed to feel there were no restrictions or limits beyond the quality of your work.
Mathias Döpfner
Absolutely. In retrospect it all looks obvious, but imagine the zeitgeist in 2001. The internet bubble had just burst. People said, “Now we see this whole internet thing was a fashion. It’ll go away. There’s no real business to be made.” It was absolutely against the majority consensus and against the majority of employees.
Perhaps the fact that I didn’t have classical business‑school education helped. I wasn’t a spreadsheet guy. I had little to lose, because the company and the culture were in bad shape. In board meetings, colleagues would send text messages to journalists to discredit each other. The corporate culture was bad; performance was lousy; the situation was desperate.
In that situation I said: in the middle of the road there is definitely no success. Let’s be bold, take super‑high risks, and follow my conviction—my gut feeling. Gut feeling and intuition are probably the most underestimated tools in management and decision‑making. We discredit intuition and gut feeling and say everything has to be rational and quantitative, all about numbers. Numbers are the consequence of right decisions. Right decisions are very often, in my experience, based on good intuition—on good judgment of people and a good feel for opportunities and future developments.
I always had a good feeling for next developments and long‑term trends. You can’t prove that rationally at the beginning; it’s just a feeling. Then you have to go for it.
Alan Fleischmann
Especially if you’re doing something that’s never been done before. The data will never tell you it’s the right thing; often the data says it can’t be done.
Mathias Döpfner
Exactly. At the beginning I made mistakes by thinking, “Now I’m a CEO of a big company with thousands of employees and big numbers, so everything must be driven by rational arguments.” Even when my feeling wasn’t good, I thought, “But the numbers speak for it; our lawyers say there is no risk; everything rational speaks for it.” My feeling was bad, but I did it anyway. It was a mistake; it failed.
There are many examples the other way around: the numbers didn’t prove it, the lawyers were skeptical, rational factors spoke against it, there was no precedent or role model. Nevertheless, I thought, “My feeling is good,” or “My feeling is bad.” I followed my intuition, and it was the right decision. Some of the most important decisions I made were like that.
So I now have a rule and really stick to it: I never overrule my intuition with rational facts or figures. I may overrule rational facts and figures with intuition. Ideally both are in line, of course. But never overrule intuition. Whenever I didn’t follow my feelings, I made mistakes.
Alan Fleischmann
That’s probably the greatest lesson and a great example of leadership, because too many people hide behind what others do. The great leaders are the ones who go by their gut and intuition. I wonder whether the young CEO in you and the wiser CEO in you are aligned, and maybe the “middle” CEO is the one who made the mistakes—experimenting with rationality. The young one didn’t know better but followed intuition; the one now knows better and says, “I’m only going to go by my intuition.”
Mathias Döpfner
Yes. Once you’ve had the experience that your intuition is often right, and you’ve made decisions against majority consensus and against advisors, the next danger is hubris. If you start thinking, “I’m so smart, so wise, so intuitive; I always do right,” that can lead to hubris, and then you are lost.
Balancing “never overrule your intuition” with groundedness and humility is very important. You must remain open to other people’s advice. That’s what I try to do today. I constantly ask people what they think and encourage them to contradict. The culture must be that teams are there to share opposing views, not to strengthen what the top leadership already wants.
A good leadership team and good corporate culture are always ones where people dare to speak up, contradict, and share contrarian views. I try to listen, digest, and very often change my views. It’s not that I always know what is right. I often listen and say, “They’re right. That’s a point.” My intuition then tells me they get it right and I got it wrong.
Sometimes, after a long discussion with many counterarguments, I still say, “No, sorry, I’m not convinced. We should go this way.” Then you have to do it.
Alan Fleischmann
That irresistible combination of confidence and humility is rare. And people around you, like Jan Bayer and others, are strong and speak up. That’s another key point: surround yourself with people you respect and lean into, even if you don’t always agree. You’ll ultimately make the decision, but it’s based on good intelligence and insight from people you trust.
Mathias Döpfner
Absolutely. Take Jan Bayer. He is my Deputy CEO and oversees our U.S. operations—Politico, Business Insider, Morning Brew. He has no fear of contradicting me—sometimes brutally. Of course, we do it with a smile and a joke in between, but I can count on him to speak up. That’s a core part of his value to the company.
I expect that from all our leaders. That’s true for Goli Sheikholeslami, the CEO of Politico in Washington. It’s true for Barbara Peng, the CEO of Business Insider, who is starting a substantial transformation of Business Insider with a radically different concept. She also questions what has been done in her organization, listens to her teams, and has lively debates with Jan and me about future developments, with the courage to express her views. If she didn’t, there would be no value.
By the way, that’s a fundamental element not only of leadership and corporate success; it’s the key word of democracy. The key word of democracy is “No.” “Yes” is the word of autocracies. In systems of fear where a dictator rules, the word they want to hear is “Yes,” and everyone is afraid to say “No.” If you say no, you may lose your job or even end up in jail. In a democracy, and in an open society and fearless corporate culture, people dare to say “No.”
Alan Fleischmann
It’s a brilliant and timely comment. Because of the transformation and the kind of leaders you’ve brought in—at Business Insider and Politico, in particular—you’ve also attracted great editorial talent. Jamie Heller, for example, had a great career and moved over to be editor‑in‑chief of Business Insider. That spoke volumes about your team and your vision of the future. You’re doing that with Politico across the U.S. and globally. You’ve pivoted strongly to the U.S. but remain quite global.
All of this goes back to that same boldness from when you pushed for digital Die Welt, and now with Politico, Business Insider, Morning Brew. When you think digital, there are no borders. You’re a world leader on a world platform and you’re attracting great talent. I love what you said about “No” versus “Yes”; I never thought of it that way.
Mathias Döpfner
I think it’s deeply rooted in our corporate culture. We have five “essentials” that function as the company’s constitution:
Support for democracies, the rule of law, and human rights.
Support for the right of existence of the State of Israel and the fight against antisemitism.
Solidarity with the values of the United States of America and the transatlantic alliance.
Support for the free‑market economy.
Opposition to all forms of political and religious extremism and all forms of discrimination.
These five essentials are like a constitution. We are very vocal and transparent about them. We do not pretend to be a neutral publisher, because a neutral publisher doesn’t exist; that’s a contradiction in itself. So it is a transparent constitution, and every employee has to sign up—intellectually, mentally, emotionally—to these values. If you don’t, there are many other places to work; Axel Springer is not the right place.
Some people ask whether this means we always have to support everything the Israeli government does, or the U.S. administration, or capitalism in every detail. Of course not. Even regarding our essentials, lively discussion and counterarguments are essential. If you really support an idea, you must ask whether a concrete political action is truly in line with it. Often it may only look like it.
If you take that seriously, these five essentials don’t limit free expression; they stimulate it. You have a constant debate about whether we’re living up to them, a constant debate where criticism is the ultimate form of love—as my mother said. Even criticizing governments or ideas that may seem aligned with our values is part of that.
Overall, it’s about pluralism of views, opposing views, lively discussion—and the essential word of a free society, an open society, a democracy. That word is “No.”
Alan Fleischmann
I love that. I’m holding your book Dealings with Dictators: A CEO’s Guide to Defending Democracy. It has never been more important. You identify the things we must fight against as much as the things we must fight for. I go back to seeing you in Davos, in critical moments, and especially at the Munich Security Conference. You stand up—your height now an advantage—and when you stand, everyone looks up. You have a formidable way of speaking, but more important is what you say and your willingness to say it.
Tell us about the book and what you want people to know.
Mathias Döpfner
Before I come fully to the book, let me mention the two most important influences or events in my life.
First, when I was 16, I watched the American TV series Holocaust by coincidence. It was the first time I, as a kid, really learned about the deeds of the Nazis during the Second World War and the Holocaust. Those images and the story of that family left such a fundamentally disturbing impression on me that it literally changed my life. I said to myself: everything that really matters is that we must do everything to ensure something like that never happens again.
I then went with my mother to Israel. We spent two weeks there and met Holocaust survivors with the tattoos on their arms. I couldn’t imagine that they would speak to a young German—representing the nation of the perpetrators—so kindly, open‑mindedly, and warm‑heartedly, sometimes even with a certain homesickness for Germany. That was the next extremely moving element that shaped what makes me tick and motivates me to go to the office every morning.
The second influence came many years later, during German reunification. As I told you, the Cold War and politics didn’t interest me much before. I was working for a music management company in Munich and suddenly saw the TV images of the Wall coming down and people crossing the Brandenburg Gate. I thought: unbelievable, a revolution for freedom. I thought, if there is anything truly worth defending, it is freedom—the possibility to go from A to B, from East to West, and even if you make a mistake in a legal system, you get a lawyer, a fair trial, and a second chance.
This idea was so compelling that it politicized me. The first experience emotionally anchored in me that totalitarianism may never happen again. The second experience made me want to defend freedom and the rule of law as the most important fundamental rights.
Since then, that’s what drives me. That’s why I became a journalist, why I transformed from music critic to political journalist, why I became an editor‑in‑chief and then manager of a media organization—to take bigger responsibility and make a difference.
In that spirit, I had to write the book at a certain point. I’m not paid to write books; there’s no rational reason. But after the invasion of Crimea in 2014, I thought: this is dangerous. I had met Putin in 2005 when one of our editors‑in‑chief— the editor of Forbes Russia—was shot in front of the newsroom. That was a shock. I met Putin, and I felt his aura of wanting revenge. You could feel a deeply rooted inferiority complex toward the United States and that he had bigger plans—he didn’t want to keep Russia as it was.
So when Crimea happened, I wasn’t totally surprised, but I thought: this is just the beginning. I also understood why it was possible. Among other factors, Germany strengthened Putin when we dropped nuclear energy in 2011 and created an unnecessary dependence on Russian energy. When Angela Merkel took office, 33 percent of Germany’s gas came from Russia; when she left, it was 65 percent. That was because of the nuclear exit and irresponsible dealings with a dictator like Putin. Continuing with Nord Stream 2 after that was even more irresponsible. We financed and strengthened Putin with our trade policy, which enabled him to take over Crimea.
After that, I had the idea for the book. When the full‑scale war in Ukraine started in February 2022, I thought: now I must write it.
The book deals with the principle that “change through trade” never worked—the idea that if we trade with dictators, they will become more like us. The most important example is China. We strengthened China with our totally asymmetrical trade policy. It is almost masochistic. Russia is another example, but there are many more. China, though, is the biggest and most dangerous going forward.
So that was the motivation: to show how our naive dealings with dictators have strengthened them and to propose trade policies that are pretty much the opposite of what is currently happening.
Alan Fleischmann
Are you worried today? I’m stunned that we’re questioning the relationship between Europe and the United States, Canada and the United States. Are you worried about the slippery slope of autocracy versus freedom and the fear you’re talking about? There aren’t many people speaking up about what they worry about.
Mathias Döpfner
Absolutely. Take China. When China became a full member of the WTO in December 2001, it contributed 3.8 percent to world GDP. Twenty years later it contributed 18.5 percent. The contribution of the United States and Europe went down dramatically. We lost; they won.
Why? Because we allowed them very asymmetrical trade behavior. They enjoyed privileges and exceptions as a so‑called developing country—which is funny for the second‑biggest economy in the world. They can do things in our economies that we could never do in theirs. That’s total asymmetry, and it doesn’t work.
So in principle I think high tariffs toward China and other non‑democracies can be a good idea to create symmetry. But my main point is we should not do that unilaterally. Real success and symmetry can only be achieved together.
That leads to my concrete proposal: If “America First” is the idea, which is obvious for an American president, it should never mean “America alone.” If America First means America alone, America is in trouble, its allies are in trouble, and the open‑society model is in trouble.
If we stick together and say America and Europe will not enter a trade war against each other, but instead start a race for the lowest tariffs, we can do something smart. We need symmetrical tariffs. At the moment EU citizens pay on average 3 percent on American goods, while Americans pay on average 5.5 percent on European goods. That’s not fair or symmetrical; it must be adjusted to equally low, or ideally no, tariffs.
In an ideal world, the U.S. and Europe would have tariff‑free trade. Every other democracy would be invited to join that tariff‑free trade alliance. Then we would sit together with much more leverage at the negotiation table with China and other non‑democratic economies and say: either we achieve symmetrical rules or you face extremely high tariffs, and your economies will be weakened.
If not only 300 million U.S. citizens but 800 million with the EU were represented at that table, and if Japan, India, Latin American, and African democracies joined, what a negotiation power we’d have. That would strengthen the U.S. and European economies and other rules‑based open societies and would create more balance with non‑democratic economies practicing totalitarian state capitalism, which is on the rise globally. We must be very careful not to move in the wrong direction. Trade wars between America and Europe are self‑damaging.
Alan Fleischmann
I love this idea of no tariffs between democracies. May the best compete on quality, but not against each other; they go toward what’s best for both societies and economies. It sounds smart and thoughtful. You can then negotiate equal playing fields with others.
We are living in a time where you don’t see a lot of courage. I see evidence of it among CEOs and leaders, but in the broader public arena there’s less. There’s not a lot of trust when you hear it from politicians either. How do we encourage that kind of courage?
Mathias Döpfner
Sometimes the less people have to lose, the more courage they show; and the more privileged people are, the less courage they show. That’s a big mistake. The more leadership responsibility you have, the more privileges you enjoy, the wealthier you are, the more power you have, the more you are obliged to take risks, be courageous, and speak up.
I sometimes find it embarrassing to see people who have made incredible amounts of money and have so much decision power but are not saying what they think. If anyone can afford it, it’s them—not the ordinary worker who may lose their job and livelihood.
That’s the observation. The encouragement is simple: life is much better if you are courageous. The only thing you won’t forgive yourself at the end of your life is if, in crucial moments, you were a coward—if you didn’t say what you think, didn’t do what you wanted, didn’t follow your principles, values, and intuitions.
So if you don’t do it for others, do it for yourself. If you stand in front of a mirror and know, “Maybe I made a mistake, perhaps it didn’t work out, but at least I said what I think and fought courageously for what I felt was right and important,” you feel great. That is the motivation: take risks, be courageous, because life is better if you do.
Alan Fleischmann
Indifference and complacency are forms of action; people forget that. They think turning their head away means being out of the arena, but they are in the arena—they’re just not engaged. You saw that in German history and in the values of Axel Springer: you want to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
Mathias Döpfner
Let me give you a recent example. Since October 7, we have been flying an Israeli flag in front of the entrance of our Berlin headquarters. We said we will keep it there until the hostages are free.
Recently we had an all‑hands virtual meeting with thousands of employees. A couple of speakers said, “We have a problem with that flag. Why isn’t there a Palestinian flag?” They didn’t like it.
I got emotional and said, “If you have a problem with this flag flying after this horrible attack on Israel, and after people in Berlin are burning Israeli flags, shouting antisemitic slogans, and attacking people physically for wearing a kippah, then the best thing is you work for a different company. Axel Springer is not the right place for you.”
After that, many people told me it was a mistake in a public setting and would create a horrible storm. The opposite was the case. You cannot imagine how much positive feedback we got. It created clarity. I felt much better afterwards than if I had shied away and delivered some diplomatic statement that says nothing. I followed my intuition, and I’m glad I did—and I recommend others do the same.
Alan Fleischmann
It’s a great example. Another aspect that’s so true to your nature is authenticity. There’s a lot of noise and people sounding alike. Speaking with clarity shouldn’t be rare, but it is. The leaders who do well—university presidents included—are those who speak and lead with clarity, who draw the line and say where safety and security stand. Those who blur the line or stay silent have a much more difficult journey.
Mathias Döpfner
That’s true for political and societal issues and also for strategy. Two years ago I started our next radical transformation: to be the most advanced AI‑empowered media tech company. I said: everything that can be replaced or supported by large language models and artificial intelligence should be delegated to bots and machines, and we should completely refocus our human workforce.
There was, and still is, a lot of opposition: “We’re going to replace jobs; we’re endangering jobs.” No. I think we are saving the company, because it’s happening anyway. Either we embrace it and become the most competent in AI, or we will die very soon. That’s a strategic example where you simply have to speak up and then follow through.
Alan Fleischmann
That goes back to the lonely CEO in the early 2000s who said, “I’ll do a total digital transformation,” and now you’re doing it with AI.
Three last questions, and then I hope you’ll come back for another hour someday. First: what does AI mean for the future of journalism and media? It’s coming at you; either you lead it or let it lead you. Second: you are building an extraordinary footprint in the U.S. and globally. Do you see that continuing? And third: I don’t want to forget the Axel Springer Global Reporters Network that you launched.
So: AI, global growth, and the Global Reporters Network.
Mathias Döpfner
AI and global reporters are closely linked. AI is definitely not just a buzzword; it has been around for decades. With large language models, particularly ChatGPT, we got the first very popular use case where everyone could see: this will affect me.
AI has the potential to destroy journalism or bring it to a completely new level. That’s true for almost every industry and for every sector of society, including political parties. Either you are a disruptor with AI, or you will be disrupted and disappear.
These answering machines we’ve created have the potential to replace journalism as we know it. But if we use them smartly, they can make our work more relevant, efficient, creative, and impactful than ever. We can delegate the basic parts of our work to machines: language translation, orthographic error correction, photo selection, layout, aggregating news already out there, large parts of editing. Machines already do that better, or soon will.
What’s left is actually the core of journalism: to come up with news that wasn’t supposed to come out—investigative reporting—to find out something that was not supposed to be found out but is relevant. No AI can do that. Also, to describe something nobody has yet seen and to be at places where nobody else is—that’s reporting and correspondence, the creation of news. That has always been the core and most fascinating part of journalism. That’s where we should focus all our human effort.
In that context we created the Global Reporters Network. We’re a market leader in Europe by reach and currently number four in America. We want to grow. Let’s take advantage of our portfolio structure. We don’t need one single correspondent in Washington—we have hundreds of political reporters, many of them in the White House and Congress, knowing things nobody in Europe knows. The same the other way around: we have hundreds of potential correspondents in Poland, for instance.
So we must leverage this transatlantic portfolio. We created an elite reporters’ unit called the Global Reporters Network, under the leadership of John Harris. It’s a truly international network of journalistic superstars who can do things others can’t. They work with time and flexibility on really important stories that can be published across our entire portfolio, by all our brands. That gives them reach and impact and is fascinating and beneficial for them and, most importantly, for our users. We’ve just started it, and it will be an exciting project.
As for the U.S. more broadly: I remember the first time I was in the States. I had just stepped off the airplane when a stranger tapped my shoulder and said, “Great suit, guy.” I’d never experienced that in Europe. Nobody would say that to a stranger. I loved that openness and directness and the breath of individual freedom in America. That love continues today; nobody can change that.
So I always felt close to the American mindset—the spirit of risk‑taking instead of risk aversion. For years we were indirectly preparing to enter the biggest media market in the world. After achieving the number‑one position in Europe, we asked: where next? Not China, not Russia, not Iran, not North Korea, not Venezuela or tiny markets. We wanted the biggest media market where we also feel emotionally at home. That’s how we started our first steps in America: Business Insider and then Politico.
Of course it’s a lot of work, but we are super happy. We have strong double‑digit organic growth and unlimited potential. We will do more organically and launch in other regional markets. We love being there and being part of this beautiful media market.
Alan Fleischmann
That’s amazing. One last thing: what would you say to an aspiring journalist or CEO listening now? At this moment in time, what would you urge them to do?
Mathias Döpfner
Trustworthy information is always crucial for a free and open society, because only with that can people make independent decisions. It is the oxygen of democracy.
Many people are pessimistic about the future of journalism or how attractive it is as a profession, disturbed by the role of social media and fake news. But those are exactly the opportunities. The more fake news is out there and the more people are confused—is it fact or opinion, rumor or thoroughly investigated story?—the more important trust in journalism and in trusted sources becomes. That has a super‑important role in democracy.
Now is the exciting moment to reinvent and re‑establish that trust. Yes, journalists have lost trust. We have to regain it. If we manage that with the help of AI, I think we’ll be in better shape than ever before. If we don’t, if we lose trust, it’s over—and that would be worst for society, not just for publishers.
So regaining trust is an overriding goal, and that drives me. I’m absolutely confident and optimistic we will succeed. I cannot imagine a better job for a young, curious person who really wants to make a difference than being a journalist—provided you are a journalist, not an activist.
Journalism is based on curiosity, on describing reality, on facts and then, perhaps, unconventional opinion. Activism says: we are in for a good cause and will ignore or manipulate facts to strengthen our cause. That is not journalism; it’s the opposite. We must separate that very clearly.
Based on curiosity and fact‑finding, the future of journalism is bright. The best is still ahead.
Alan Fleischmann
I love that. Seek truth, build trust—those are the two currencies. And curate your curiosity: lean in. You can only imagine a new world if you’re curious; you can only imagine a righteous world if you seek truth and build trust.
Mathias Döpfner
My general advice for everyone, particularly young people, is: follow your passions. If your passion is to find out what really happened—if your passion is curiosity—then follow it. There is absolutely no better job than being a journalist, especially in the years to come. The best is yet to come; I am 100 percent sure.
Alan Fleischmann
As a father of two daughters who love to write and are curious, they have looked at journalism and said it seems to be a dying profession. Hearing you today gives me a strong feeling that, if done with quality, built on trust and truth, its best years are ahead—especially the way you describe AI, not fearfully but as a way to let journalists be journalists. Let humans do what humans do best and let the fact‑processing happen elsewhere. The seeking of what happens and what’s happening remains a human task.
Mathias Döpfner
AI can help us reinvent the idea of journalism.
Alan Fleischmann
Based on everything we’ve talked about—your book, defending democracy, protecting the marginalized and vulnerable, and seeking truth—we cannot afford not to have journalism and the right reporting. Without them, we have no chance of preserving democracy.
Mathias Döpfner
As Churchill said, failure is not an option.
Alan Fleischmann
You’ve been listening to Leadership Matters on SiriusXM and at leadershipmattersshow.com. I’m your host, Alan Fleischmann. We’ve just spent an extraordinary hour with Mathias Döpfner. He’s the Chairman and CEO of Axel Springer, a great CEO‑statesman and a global leader, and he’s given us enormous advice.
It’s been a fascinating discussion about your career and the media landscape. You’ve given us a great deal to unite around common values, to defend democracy, and to defend what’s most important to us—whether we’re sitting around the kitchen table, in the boardroom, or in the streets. We have to seek truth and build trust, and you’re showing us how.