My Journey E-Book

Josef Ackermann

• Herausgeber: Langen-Müller
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Deutsch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Seitenzahl: 585

Beschreibung

Josef Ackermann is a household name: banker, business leader, crisis manager – and a controversial figure for many. Hailed one moment as "Switzerland's best export" for the banking industry, castigated the next as the "bogeyman of the nation," Ackermann was never out of the headlines for long. He traveled to New York in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001. He was an advisor to former German Chancellor Angela Merkel, numerous finance ministers and top EU politicians during the global financial and eurozone crises, and played a key role in preventing the meltdown of the global financial system. For the first time, Ackermann recounts the dramatic hours negotiating the rescue of Hypo Real Estate, the giant German lender that came within a whisker of collapse. He takes a critical look at the causes and lessons of banking crises, analyzes the downfall of Credit Suisse, calls for "war games for bank executives," tougher stress tests, and greater powers for Switzerland's regulator FINMA, including a "Special Financial Action Task Force." Ackermann puts forward concrete suggestions on how to prevent a future financial collapse and formulates his "Ten Maxims of a Good Banker." The author dedicates other chapters to his childhood and family life and shares many personal anecdotes of encounters with politicians, business leaders and royalty around the world. "To me he has always been a person of great dignity, elegance, insight, perspicacity, with the ability to grasp issues in next to no time." Christine Lagarde, President of the European Central Bank

Leseprobe

For Pirkko, Catherine and Gregory

Inhalt

Inhalt 4

Foreword 10

Note on the English Edition 15

Prologue 16

End of an Icon 16

Childhood and Youth 20

The Advice 20

Swiss Roots 22

Happy Childhood 23

Family Life 29

Staying Grounded 34

School Years 37

Avoid the Irreversible 40

Military Service and Studies 42

A Formative Period 42

In the Line of Fire 44

Money and Magic: Studying at HSG 46

Mentor and Doctorate 50

Assistantship 54

Years at Credit Suisse 1977–1996 58

Entering the Banking World 58

Executive Board Member’s Assistant 60

Traineeship 61

Jazz and Art 63

The Popular Misconception 66

The Invisible Network 67

Shaping the Business 68

Private Life 71

CEO of Credit Suisse 75

Anti-Burnout Concept 80

The Rupture 81

Years at Deutsche Bank 1996–2012, Financial and Debt Crisis 85

Reorientation 85

Starting Out at Deutsche Bank 92

Culture Shock 94

Communication Problems 103

The Youngster on the Board 108

Bankers Trust Acquisition 109

The Failed Coup 113

Terror, Death and Destruction 117

Ledger of Horror 120

The Leo Kirch Drama 125

Mannesmann Trial: a PR Disaster 129

The Big Job: CEO of Deutsche Bank 144

Leadership Principles and Guidelines 147

On the Road to Success 156

25 Percent Return Target: Hounded, Insulted and Condemned 159

Financial Crisis: the Precursors 165

Alarm Bells 168

The IKB Disaster 174

Sachsen LB: Downfall of a Regional State Bank 181

Falling like Dominoes 184

Lehman Brothers: Collapse of a Legend 187

On the Brink: the Demise of Hypo Real Estate (HRE) 193

Government Guarantee for Savers 204

Shame on Me 207

Eurozone Crisis, Debt Crisis, Recession 212

Growing Mountains of Debt 222

Risk Management 227

Banksters and Bonuses 231

Distorted Perception 237

Bogeyman of the Nation: the Media’s Role 240

Trusted Assistants in the Back Office 247

Bomb Scare 254

Farewell 255

Looking Back 264

Taking Stock 270

Spokesperson for the Global Financial Industry 281

Political Animal 281

Leading Role at the Institute of International Finance (IIF) 282

Zurich Insurance Group and Bank of Cyprus 310

Zurich Calling 310

Death of the CFO 314

In the Land of Aphrodite 319

Anecdotes 347

Personal Encounters 347

Iron Lady Incensed 348

Care for a Cigar? 353

A Chinese Statesman Quotes Goethe 356

Permanent Guest in Washington 358

“Che Bella Voce” 364

Sandy Weill Plans a Coup 364

No Peace in Palestine 370

Arabian Dreams 371

The World’s Most Expensive Private Jet 373

An Authority on China 376

A Scotch for the Maharaja 378

Italian Grandezza 380

Reflections on the WEF 384

An Elephant in the Room 387

Urban Age Project 388

Solar Impulse: Around the World without a Drop of Fuel 390

Causes and Lessons of the Financial Crisis 392

The Downfall of Credit Suisse: Opinions and Reactions 392

Causes of Financial Crises 402

Lessons from the Financial Crises and Crisis Prevention 415

Lessons for FINMA 417

Some Suggestions for Crisis Prevention 421

Final Observations 425

The Ten Maxims of a Good Banker 429

Epilogue 430

Appendix 436

Media Index 437

Bibliography 438

Dr. Josef Ackermann 439

Photo Credits 442

Photos 443

Every Man owes it as a debt to his profession to put on record whatever he has done that might be of use to others.Francis Bacon (1561–1626)

Foreword

The world is growing increasingly unstable and fragile. Since February 2022, we have witnessed a brutal war of aggression. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine threatens the post-war European peace order. German Chancellor Olaf Scholz rightly called this a watershed moment. This scenario was unthinkable for many after the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Cold War. The massacre by the terrorist group Hamas in Israel in October 2023 and the massive retaliation by Israeli forces, along with other regional conflicts, have delivered another reality shock. In 1989, the political scientist Francis Fukuyama may have written a bestseller with The End of History, but this end is now postponed or negated. Perhaps we’ll always be waiting.

History is transient—and so are we. Perhaps that is why we have the urge to retrace our steps and search for clues.

For years, friends and acquaintances have been urging me to write this book. For a long time I didn’t give it a second thought.

What changed my mind? A friend once told me that someone who has been in the public eye for so many years should have the chance to “remember publicly.” Any­one who has so often been observed, scrutinized, harshly criticized or even insulted under the media spotlight, he said, has the right to take himself and his close circle out of manipulative hands and intentions and “describe what actually happened,” to borrow the words of historian Leopold von Ranke. After all, when even commemorative books are published without consulting eye witnesses and are strewn with errors, the desire to set the record straight for posterity is all the greater.

This is precisely my intention, because I feel that history and stories can take on a life of their own, espe­cially when the protagonists are not around anymore. Sud­den­ly, narratives emerge that don’t reflect what actually happened. Fantasies, fables and myths emerge.

I therefore felt a strong need to recount experiences and facts from my own perspective and memory. ­Besides, taking this journey through time in my sunset years allows me to look back on extraordinary events and encounters and draw some personal conclusions. I have experienced triumphs and defeats, hopes and disappointments, ful­fill­ment and joy.

At the same time, I would like to answer those crit­ics who dissected, denounced or condemned many of my decisions. For the record, I have received far more support in relation to various controversies than my opponents might imagine. To be quite clear, this book is not about settling scores! I do not intend to belittle, dis­parage or vilify others. On the contrary, it’s about showing appreciation, admiration and gratitude to all those people who have supported, encouraged and re­­spected me over the years. First and foremost, my wife Pirkko and our family, to whom I owe so much and who have accompanied me on this journey with endless pa­tience, understanding, care and kindness. They have always been there for me as advisors, confidants and irreplaceable partners.

I would also like to express my deep admiration and respect for so many others. I will always remember how my parents and friends, former colleagues, companions and helpers supported me with their creativity, ima­g­ination, inspiration and intuition. I would also like to thank the veteran ARD foreign correspondent, Hans-Jürgen Maurus, and Sabine Sternagel from the publishing house Langen Müller for all their editorial work. They have supported this project with great commitment, suggestions, ideas and critical feedback.

People make mistakes, and I’m no exception. Yet some people are unable to acknowledge them. The fol­lowing observations, interpretations, assessments and conclusions are entirely personal. They are subjective, fragmentary and therefore incomplete. Many facts, devel­opments and controversies are recounted in condensed and rudimentary form. This is down to the sheer volume of material to include. Critics will no doubt point to what is “missing.” So be it.

Today, it is common to view and interpret past events through the current lens. Yet values and morals are constantly changing. Interpreting and condemning words and concepts in retrospect based on today’s perspective and norms, without taking historical circumstances or conditions into account, falls short of the mark. I understand people whose feelings are hurt, but to turn individual sensitivities into the standards and the norms for everyone else to follow is a dubious proposition. To gain a deeper understanding of decisions or events in the past, it’s useful to consider and reflect upon the zeitgeist of the period in question.

This book is not a history of Deutsche Bank or any other financial institution that has played a role in my life. As a Swiss banker, you must understand that I am subject to a duty of confidentiality and do not wish to divulge or announce anything concerning bank clients or individual business relationships. Rather, this book seeks to capture the most significant periods and events in my life.

It is also intended for people who have a hard time following the hectic pace of global stock markets, the trials and tribulations of the financial world or the technical jargon employed by analysts. If I can build a bridge that aids understanding, awareness and interpretation, I will be delighted. I will leave it to readers to judge whether I have succeeded.

My life has been anything but monotonous. It was some­times a rocky path, occasionally arduous and exhaus­ting, at other times inspiring, delightful and magni­ficent, always fascinating and intellectually rewarding—pro­foundly influenced by a dialectic struggle between tradi­tion and innovation, the familiar and the unfamiliar. Often I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. Sometimes I had the misfortune of not spotting all the pitfalls. As my journey reached various peaks, I discovered breathtaking views and in­sights. On occa­sion, I peered into the abyss or wit­nessed personal tragedy. Cer­tain paths turned out to be dead ends, so detours were unavoidable. Others proved to be useful shortcuts.

It was a long journey, down alleyways and boulevards, promenades and avenues, sometimes right into the centers of power. As a wanderer between worlds, on both sides of the Atlantic, from the Middle East to Australasia, I was able to sharpen my senses and perception, gain experience and knowledge that broadened my horizons, frequently giving me a fresh perspective and outlook.

These were eventful times, with ups and downs, prog­ress and setbacks, obstacles and creative solutions. There were reforms, upheavals and major technological revolutions in the banking world. The paradigm change from bank counters to mobile apps was just the beginning. The pace of digitalization continues to accelerate to this day. Developments in the field of artificial intelligence (AI) and cyberspace present tremendous new challenges.

As I have walked this path, I have left some tracks—not always voluntarily, sometimes controversially and in the glare of the media spotlight, always accompanied by my family and good friends. In this book, I simply describe my journey as I experienced it and invite you to walk along with me.

I have not included references or an index of names. This is not an academic publication and therefore makes no claim to absolute validity. Many people are men­tioned, yet there are far more fellow travelers who have played a role in my life and do not appear in these pages.

One more thing to mention: everything you read here is entirely my own thoughts—no content was generated by ChatGPT or any other chatbot!

Today, as I look out over the rough Baltic Sea and the archipelago around Helsinki in my wife’s home country of Finland, thinking of our frequent boat trips and the dancing Northern Lights, I’m reminded of my childhood, when the summer thunderstorms behind Sargans Castle rolled away towards Liechtenstein, with flashes of lightning and rumbling thunder. We children gazed into the distance, spellbound, not knowing what the future would bring.

Josef Ackermann, February 2024

Note on the English Edition

This English edition is a translation of the original German autobiography Mein Weg. Some quotes from foreign-language sources have been retranslated. With an international readership in mind, a few minor additions and changes have been made to the German text. I wish to convey my thanks to the book’s translator, Paul Sabin, for preserving the tone of the original work.

Josef Ackermann, December 2024

Prologue

End of an Icon

Sunday, March 19, 2023. Saint Joseph’s Day. I’m in Helsinki for a few days to work on my book in peace, wat­ching a TV drama approach its climax.

It’s 7:30 p.m.. After several days of crisis meetings and a chaotic weekend, key representatives of the Swiss government, the central bank, the Swiss Financial Market Supervisory Authority (FINMA) and the chairmen of the boards of directors of UBS and Credit Suisse (CS) hold a joint press conference in Bern. The event is broadcast live on Swiss television. Journalists are packed into the room like sardines.

It is a historic occasion, but no cause to rejoice. The assembled VIPs, Swiss President Alain Berset, finance mi­nis­ter Karin Keller-Sutter, Swiss National Bank chair­man (SNB) Thomas Jordan, FINMA chair Marlene Amstad, UBS chairman of the board Colm Kelleher and CS chairman of the board Axel Lehmann, stare on awk­wardly. They are there to announce the end of a Swiss icon.

UBS, Switzerland’s largest bank, is to take over Credit Suisse, the country’s second-largest financial institu­tion, for three billion Swiss francs. 167 years after it was founded, Credit Suisse is being swallowed up by its rival. The operation is necessary to avoid throwing the financial system into jeopardy, as CS is one of the world’s 30 largest lenders considered systemically important. In other words, it is “too big to fail” (TBTF).

Citizens, shareholders, bondholders, customers, tax­payers and journalists are told astonishing news. In the days prior, Credit Suisse had entered a kind of death spiral. After the bank had to withstand a cash outflow of over 110 billion Swiss francs in the last quarter of 2022 and posted a loss of more than seven billion francs for the past financial year, the crisis had deepened even further. In the month of March, customers withdrew billions more from their accounts.

The share price collapsed and hedge funds once again saw the chance to reap huge profits by betting against CS. On April 6, 2023, the Financial Times reports that hedge funds have made $ 684 million from short positions on CS alone. Feasting on a carcass can be extremely lucrative.

At the historic press conference on March 19, 2023, finance minister Karin Keller-Sutter admits that the situation at CS had already become critical on Wednesday, March 15. Due to the turbulent developments on the market, it was “clear that Credit Suisse’s liquidity was no longer secure.” Nevertheless, FINMA and the Swiss National Bank (SNB) issued a statement on Wednesday evening confirming that CS meets the “capital and liq­uidity requirements for systemically important banks.” The SNB would “make liquidity available to CS if nec­essary.”

It becomes necessary on Thursday, March 16, 2023. Tension at the Federal Palace in Bern has reached a “fever pitch,” reports the Zurich Tages-Anzeiger, and the national government holds a crisis meeting. The sub­stance of the meeting is not disclosed. However, on that Thursday, the Federal Council, SNB and FINMA made two decisions, as Keller subsequently reveals on Sunday. First, CS is being supported with a liquidity injection of 50 billion Swiss francs. Second, it is be­ing granted additional default guarantees of around 100 billion francs.

Only the first of these decisions was announced on the Thursday, not the second. Moreover, the Federal Coun­cil had not even commented on the first measure of liquidity assistance. The lead headline in the Tages-Anzeiger on Friday therefore read: “50 Billion for CS—Federal Council’s Silence Causes Confusion.”

The journalists and observers at the press conference are shocked. Why did the crisis managers only communicate the first decision on Thursday and fail to mention the second? When asked, Keller-Sutter explains that they did not want to pass on the information piecemeal because this would have unsettled the markets.

Her response makes no sense, since the information about the 50 billion francs to support Credit Suisse was published precisely to calm the markets. So why would a “bazooka” of financial aid unsettle the markets? It’s contradictory and scarcely credible. Total confusion reigns when SNB chairman Thomas Jordan admits, in response to a question, that the total aid for CS actually amounts to over 200 billion francs.

Equally peculiar is the finance minister’s analysis that the takeover is not a “bailout” but a “commercial solution” between two private parties. The online news outlet Inside Paradeplatz delivers a damning verdict: “Muppet Show.” When the press conference is over, I’m left stunned, angry and shocked. I pick up the phone and discuss the situation with friends and colleagues. They are all incensed. Every single one told me, “It’s a disgrace for the Swiss financial center!”

I have never felt as ashamed as I did that day. And I must admit, I did not sleep well that night. Credit Suisse, my first employer, is doomed. I lost something very close to me that day. More on that topic later.

Childhood and Youth

The Advice

When I was twelve years old, my father gave me the most important advice of my life. He wrote down four lines from the poet Christoph Martin Wieland on a piece of paper and handed it to me:

“In andrer Glück sein eignes finden, Ist dieses Lebens Seligkeit.

Und andrer Menschen Wohlfahrt gründen, Schafft göttliche Zufriedenheit.”

(“To find one’s own happiness in that of others, Is the greatest joy in this life.To care for the welfare of others, Brings divine contentment.”)

With these words, the Weimar Enlightenment philo­so­pher laid down both a general philosophy for life and a concrete management principle. For my father, a pas­sion­ate country doctor, the verse represented his professional ethos: if he could help others, he felt richly rewarded. Hence his simple advice that I seek my happiness in the happiness of others. However, this was not an easy path to follow, as I would discover over the years.

It was only during the global financial crisis of 2007–2008 and through decades of experience in the financial world that I could fully grasp the profound wisdom of Wieland’s words. Peering into the abyss following the collapse of Lehman Brothers, seeing the real possibility of financial system collapse and global economic crisis, has brought home the importance of personal responsi­bility—and indeed the collective social and political responsibility of executives, institutions and the financial sector as a whole. Companies do not exist for their own sake; they only succeed in the long term if they prove useful to the general public.

Business leaders must never forget this. Granted, their number one task is to generate profit—but not for profit’s sake. Earnings are just a means to an end: they enable companies to grow, develop new products, create jobs and pay taxes. This brings prosperity and political stability.

Today’s media coverage increasingly gives the impres­sion that economic forces dominate and control world events. As a result, companies and business leaders come under ever greater scrutiny for the power they wield. That’s for the best, given that no one is infallible, omniscient or beyond reproach—one of many lessons I’ve learned.

Swiss Roots

Home is where you grow up, a place of comfort and belonging, where you connect with the language and culture. It’s where you have your first experiences and adven­tures. At home, with your family, learning at school, playing outside, attending sporting events and parties, taking part in traditions such as the Almabtrieb, the annual cattle drive from the alpine pastures. It might be the place where you first fall in love. You only feel completely at home and at ease in the place where you lived through everything as a child.

My home is Switzerland. I grew up in the canton of St. Gallen. My family home was in Mels, in Sar­gan­serland, a municipality with a population of almost nine thousand today. Mels lies on the edge of the St. Gallen Rhine Valley. The area embodies the idyllic alpine landscape from the children’s novel Heidi and is known affectionately as “Heidi Land.” Many readers will be familiar with the A3 highway, which runs alongside Lake Walen in the direction of Chur to the ski resorts in Graubünden and over the San Bernardino Pass into the canton of Ticino towards Italy. Mels is on this route. An important rail line also runs through the village and on to Chur.

The people of Mels are proud of their history and of a certain stubborn, rebellious, defiant confidence. You can put it down to their strong ties to their homeland and their down-to-earth mentality. The Germanic tribes known as the Alemanni formed the basis of the popu­lation in the wide Weisstannen valley, which is surroun­ded by mountain ranges. Later, they were joined by Walser settlers from the Walser colonies of Davos and Rhein­wald in the canton of Graubünden. Roughly here lie the roots of the Ackermanns, my family on my father’s side. I still enjoy skiing with my wife or the whole family on the Pizol or hiking in the nature reserve around Lake Chapfen.

When people ask me what has been the key to success in my career, I always say: basic trust. You might even call it primal trust. Part of that is knowing you have a place where you’re safe and sound, knowing you have a home. I was always certain I wouldn’t simply fall into the void if something went seriously wrong. That gave me a certain freedom—and courage, too. All my life I remained safe in this knowledge, not least thanks to my parents. I always enjoyed visiting them regularly with my wife and daughter, right up to the end of their lives at the ripe old age of over ninety.

Happy Childhood

I was born by caesarean section at the hospital in Walenstadt on February 7, 1948, under the zodiac sign of Aquarius. My two brothers Karl and Daniel followed one and two years later. As the first-born, I was practically thrust into being a role model from the very beginning. Karl later studied biology and Daniel became a well-known urologist. Ambition was in our DNA.

Aquarians are generally considered to be creative, help­ful and freedom-loving. On the other hand, they are often perceived as stubborn, impatient and distant. Striving for independence is a character trait that I definitely embrace.

I can say without any reservations that I had a happy childhood and youth. Life in the alpine countryside was quite idyllic, despite the trains of the Swiss Federal Railways (SBB) thundering past our house. The railroad line and the nearby highway awakened a certain wan­derlust in me as a child, and even more so as a teenager. I was curious about the great wide world. The gateway was right there, all you had to do was push it open.

Mels was a simple village with a predominantly Catho­lic community. Only a few residents had an aca­demic education or pursued military careers as officers. My father was always keen to open up new horizons for us: through trips abroad, international contacts and lively debate.

Of course we were part of the village community, but we were encouraged to see and consider what lay beyond, for example going to stay with a family abroad or through language lessons at school. I soon learned English, French and Italian quite well and acquired some basic Spanish.

At the age of eight, I was sent to a French language school. My mother Margrith, who came from French-speaking western Switzerland, made sure that we also spoke French at home. She always spurred us on with the phrase, “Qui veut, peut” (Where there’s a will, there’s a way), which strengthened our fundamental trust in ourselves.

My grandfather on my mother’s side occasionally acted as an English interpreter for injured ski tourists who ended up in my father’s surgery. He urged us to learn languages as a “gateway to the world.”

My father suffered all his life from having only rudimentary foreign language skills. When he studied medicine at the University of Zurich, it was not the international program it is today. What’s more, my father came from a very humble background. He was the first in his family to have the opportunity to study. His father had been a foreman with the Swiss Federal Railways.

My father financed his studies through various part-time jobs. His most exotic excursion was probably working as a herdsman on a Swiss mountain pasture during the semester break. My parents met while study­ing at Zurich University Hospital, where my mother trained very successfully as a nurse. My father com­pleted his studies, gained his medical license and worked for a while in psychiatry before setting up as a general practitioner in Mels in 1947. At this point he was 29 years old and was building his own practice from the ground up. By working tirelessly and maximizing his earning potential, he quickly attained a certain level of prosperity for the family. You could say we were wealthy by the standards of the time. My father worked full time until he was 65. Then his health prevented him from continuing. The motto of his self-sacrificing working life was always: “As a doctor, you’ve got to be all in.”

As a country doctor, he was well known around these parts, and popular too. Somewhat reserved, almost shy, he nevertheless gave lectures on general medical topics in the community. But social engagements were usually my mother’s domain.

An incredibly attractive, kind and endearing woman with a big heart, she managed the administrative side of the practice with great dedication and also oversaw the laboratory tests. She pulled the strings in the background, saw herself as a great support in her husband’s everyday working life. Her pragmatic, hands-on manner and her medical knowledge were indispensable. Nevertheless, my father was the one we looked up to the most. That’s how it was back then.

As an extended family, we lived with three genera­tions under one roof. My mother’s parents ran the household. They had a background in the hotel industry and ran the hospitality business at Sargans Castle until they retired. Hence the wonderful cooking skills of my grandmother, with whom I had a particularly close rela­tionship. Her exquisite chocolate cake remains fresh in my memory to this day. As I was a fussy eater for a long time—I preferred a vegetarian diet—my grandmother often spoiled me, to the irritation of my brothers. They saw this preferential treat­ment as an undeserved privi­lege. For my part, I rather enjoyed the little extra pampering.

My father’s medical practice often served as a venue for making new international contacts. When a couple of teachers from London arrived in Mels for a ski trip with their students, it seemed only a matter of time until one of them would have an accident. And so it was. A student had taken a fall, my father put the fractured limb in a plaster cast and casually asked the English teacher if he knew of a good language school in the UK. He promptly replied, “A splendid idea. Our son can come to stay with you and your sons with us.”

So we ended up with a host family in Ickenham in the London Borough of Hillingdon, where I’m sure many readers have landed, as it’s home to Heathrow Airport. Our English hosts really spoiled us: boat trips on the Thames, fishing in Scotland and tours around southern England were just some of the highlights. The head of the family was a major in the Royal Air Force, the son a drummer who would let loose on the drums late into the night. They had a piano in the living room and we bought sheet music to play classical pieces and pop songs.

It was a great musical era, the charts dominated by the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Who, the Small Faces, the Kinks, the Hollies, the Animals, Dusty Springfield and Cliff Richard. We immersed ourselves in a whole new world. “Swinging London” replaced the traditional British “stiff upper lip” culture with rock music, provoc­ative lyrics and revolutionary fashion trends. Super­models such as Twiggy brought mini-skirts to the atten­tion of the world. It was a time of change and new-found freedoms. The bands’ lyrics were bold, brash and raucous, yet totally compelling. Now we had a whole new reason to work on our English skills. One day at a local sports event we were all told to line up, but we had no idea why. Suddenly, a helicopter appeared and descended onto the middle of the sports field. To my surprise, out of the helicopter climbed Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, who walked along our line and exchanged a few words with each of us.

I was utterly perplexed when he stopped in front of me. I shook his hand without saying a word. Years later, when I was introduced to Prince Charles, then heir to the throne and now King Charles III at Buckingham Palace, I mentioned that I was from Switzerland. “That’s not your fault,” His Majesty replied with his customary sense of humor. But I digress.

In England, the classic English breakfast of eggs and bacon or kippers took some getting used to. What made up for it were dinners of fish and chips and the knickerbocker glory, a classic among ice-cream sundaes and hugely popular in the UK. Vanilla ice-cream, fruit, meringue, marshmallows and whipped cream are served up in a tall glass with a long spoon. Entire generations have devoured this glorious dessert with utter delight.

I also got into the national sport of darts. Such was my fascination with the game, years later I had a dartboard installed in my basement. When I returned to Switzerland from England, not only was my English much better, my hair was also noticeably longer—though not quite a “mop-top.”

The thrills and spills on the local ski slopes meant that my father was always receiving new patients and working overtime. Being on call at the weekends was particularly tough. My father was on duty 24 hours a day, with absolute dedication and commitment. He was also called out to make house visits for various emergencies—day and night, all year round. Besides Mels, he operated in a number of hamlets in the surrounding foothills.

An old VW Beetle served as the medical vehicle and was deployed in all weather conditions. When it was snowy, he had to put chains on the tires. As the eldest, I was allowed to ride along from time to time. I acted as a live weight on the rear bumper, helping the vehicle gain more traction on steep inclines. As a reward, my father let me turn the car around in the yards of the hamlets we visited. Attempting this in a snowstorm during one late-night call, I came within a whisker of sliding the car off a slope. A stone wall came to my rescue.

During the ski season, German patients would fre­quently be brought in with broken legs and dislocated shoulders. My brothers and I sometimes helped to carry the casualties into the surgery and occasionally mixed a plaster cast. My father would pop the shoulders back in and, while this was going on, we would try to learn something about political developments in Ger­many. Such was our interest in the country, we regularly followed the round-table debates on German TV on Sunday mornings. The show was called Der Internationale Frühschoppen and was hosted by Werner Höfer.

Elites are often accused of being rather aloof, sitting in their ivory towers, detached from reality and ignorant about the daily lives of other social classes. Growing up in a doctor’s surgery, we children also experienced the darker side of society, the poverty and suffering of many people, at close quarters. When the phone rang at night and my father went out on emergency calls, we got wind of all kinds of incidents. So we have always guarded against being overly triumphant in our successes or disheartened in the face of defeat. A little modesty and humility goes a long way. Everything we saw and heard as children boosted our ability to emerge stronger from difficult experiences. Today you would call it “resilience.”

Family Life

Christmas and birthdays were highlights of our family life. The Christmas season always had its own special magic. We used to have our Christmas tree in the living room, right next to the piano. Before opening the presents, we boys would go for a walk with our grand­father, which only heightened our impatience and excite­ment. Of course we had written our wish list in a letter to the Christkind (children in some countries write to Santa Claus, we wrote to the Christ Child) and left it on the windowsill. During the weeks of Advent, the trio of Ackermann sons rehearsed various musical numbers to perform in the Christmas music program.

Just like everywhere else, opening up the presents was the greatest moment for us children. One of the nicest gifts I and my brothers received was a Märklin model train set. Not just any set, but the Gotthard train with its legendary “Crocodile” locomotive, which I still find marve­lous to this day. My other favorite locomotive was the DB Class V 200 of the German Federal Railway. The set was greatly expanded with model railroad sta­tions, mountains, a cable car and a mail van. I still enjoy browsing toy stores today, but it’s sad to see how electronic devices have become so dominant.

At some point, my father gave us a chemistry set, probably with the ulterior motive of encouraging us, as budding chemists or future doctors, to perform some lab experiments.

Experiments did indeed follow, but they were more on the culinary front. We took the greatest pleasure in making candies from caramelized sugar. The head of the family was visibly disappointed with the results of our research.

My father attached great importance to humility and a down-to-earth nature. A strong work ethic was exemplified; any boasting was frowned upon. Our parents were keen to avoid any frivolous spending. One time we drove down to Venice for a vacation. We arrived at a fancy hotel, feeling tired after the long journey, but my father soon decided it was too expensive. So we changed our accommodation without further ado, even though we could afford the pricier option.

Our parents placed great emphasis on being inde­pendent, taking personal responsibility and supporting one another. Income should not depend on handouts from the state, they stressed, but hard work and achieve­ment.

They made a point of introducing us to cultural topics through discussions and excursions. Even as children, we attended theater performances in Munich or traveled to Rome. In preparation for our obligatory visit to the Roman Forum, my father had spent hours reading Caesar, in the original Latin. I still remember the trip to the “Eternal City” today: standing beside the three pillars of the Temple of Castor and Pollux, my father painted pic­tures in our minds of ancient Rome by loudly reciting passages from Caesar’s Commentarii de Bello Gallico (Commentaries on the Gallic War).

At home, we regularly played music together. My brothers played the cello and violin; my instrument was the piano. My father had a wonderful tenor voice; my mother sang a glorious soprano. On Sunday mornings after church there was a singing and music session at our place: chamber music, excerpts from Mozart’s The Magic Flute and other operas.

My love of music has stayed with me my whole life. It has always been a source of peace, a way to balance out the stress of everyday life, to relax and unwind. I still love to sit at my Steinway, play some tunes and sing along. I’m not an outstanding pianist and my singing has deteriorated somewhat with age, but the combination continues to bring me great joy.

Sport was extremely important to us. My brothers were all keen on sports and we played a lot of soccer. Then athletics caught my attention. My favorite disciplines were the heptathlon and javelin.

The akontion (javelin throw) was one of the pentathlon events at the ancient Olympic Games and the pilum (javelin) has always fascinated me. My secondary school offered javelin coaching and I had some talent for it. Through rigorous training, I became junior champion in the canton of St. Gallen.

With the frequent training sessions, it became difficult to manage my time between playing music, reading and sport. My mother recalled an occasion when we brothers were practicing Beethoven’s “Archduke Trio” and I played my part rather hastily and sloppily. In fact, my tempo was so presto that I finished before the others and asked, “Can I be excused to go to soccer practice now?” So apparently I wasn’t entirely devoted to artistic endeavors.

Politics and current affairs were regularly discussed at the family table—vociferously, emotionally, but always amicably. No sooner had my father raised a topic, the debate would begin. That was probably one of the most important aspects of our family life. Even when we had guests, there was plenty of back and forth. We were particularly taken with US President John F. Kennedy. After the Eisenhower years, which we perceived as a gray, leaden time, this young, athletic, handsome and dynamic president represented the dawn of a new era.

As young people, we identified with JFK. During geopolitical tensions such as the construction of the Berlin Wall and the Cuban Missile Crisis, which brought the superpowers to the brink of world war in 1962, John F. Kennedy seemed capable of standing up to communism as the leader of the free world. I remember what my father said when the naval blockade against Cuba was imposed: “Finally, someone has drawn a line in the sand.”

Today, some things are seen differently, many events have been relativized. But when JFK came to Berlin in 1963, our eyes were glued to any available television set. And when he was shot dead by an assassin in Dallas, Texas, in November 1963, we were deeply shocked and angry. That whole evening we talked about the terrible incident and wondered how such attacks could be prevented.

The president’s death was one of those profound events that remains engraved in your memory—and years later you still remember where you were at the time. Just like the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, or the accident that claimed the life of Princess Diana in Paris on August 31, 1997.

John F. Kennedy’s legendary statement has remained with me: “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” Indeed, I have been serving national interests all my life—in the army, in the financial and European debt crisis, during my time in Cyprus—and the first part of FJK’s quote also played a role in my decision not to accept state aid during the financial crisis.

The Cold War often dominated our debates, notably the popular uprising in Hungary in 1956, the execution of former Prime Minister Imre Nagy in 1958 and the con­struction of the Berlin Wall in 1961. When the Hungarian Uprising was crushed by Russian tanks, it triggered a massive wave of refugees. 200,000  Hungarians fled to neighboring countries, around 13,000 to Switzer­land.

As an eight-year-old, I spent hours listening to the latest news broadcasts about events in Budapest, hearing of demonstrators hurling Molotov cocktails at Russian tanks. My mother was involved in the work of the Red Cross, via my father, so we had many Hungarian friends who informed us about the situation on the ground.

From one day to the next, we had several Hungarian children join our school grade of 70 students, which was an exciting development for us. I remember a Hungarian family who wanted to emigrate to Canada and were dedicated and diligent learners of English. That sparked my own ambition to learn Hungarian. I bet my Hungarian school friend that I could pick up his native language in two months—as quickly as he could learn English. Needless to say, he won that wager.

For us Swiss, seeing up close the effects of flight and displacement, hardship and homelessness was a formative experience. Sadly, this topic is more present than ever today.

I didn’t have a clue about economic policy back then—hardly surprising, at the age of twelve. I would develop that particular interest much later.

Staying Grounded

Something my brothers and I took from our parents was staying grounded and true to our values. Being modest was just as important as showing respect and consideration for others. Education was crucial to my father and was generously supported. There was never any hesitation over topics we wished to explore. On the contrary, he encouraged us to read what we liked, from adventure novels to biographies.

I opted for memoirs by historical figures such as Winston Churchill, Konrad Adenauer and Charles de Gaulle. When we had enjoyed a book or learned some­thing interesting, my father was delighted to hear about it. He would have taken a dim view, on the other hand, had we only been interested in parties or trivial matters.

I don’t wish to suggest we were raised to be educated bourgeois ascetics. We lived a simple country life, and ethical questions and values carried a lot of weight. The cultural activities of the family home were central to our future outlook. I would sum up my parents’ approach to education as “support and challenge.”

Of course, it’s legitimate to question the pedagogical paradigms of the time. Some will wonder whether we simply wanted to live up to our parents’ expectations in order to gain their favor and affection. But it wasn’t that simple. Clearly, we didn’t want to disappoint our parents. At the same time, the activities I describe, like the aforementioned trip to Rome, were a whole lot of fun. The line from Goethe’s Faust—“Acquire it to possess it”—was a guiding principle in our household. It was less about material possessions and more about preserving values and cultural heritage. Incidentally, in my last year at school, I made this line the topic of my final essay for German, one of my favorite subjects at the time.

I can’t remember an occasion when I disappointed my parents by failing to achieve something or deciding not to go for it. Not in sport or at school or later in my professional life.

What defined my upbringing the most was the constant striving to learn and understand new things. I will leave it to the reader to judge whether my parents had elitist standards and expectations, but their aspirations for my education certainly didn’t cause me to become isolated in the village community of Mels.

We brothers were active in the local gymnastics club, in the Scouts, and—being young Catholics—as altar boys. The latter came with a special perk: after the services in the chapels of the mountain villages around Mels, the farmers’ wives would serve the traditional breakfast, known as z’Morgen. They usually made eggs with bacon and potatoes fried on a wood stove. Only students with good grades were allowed to join. If you were at z’Morgen, you didn’t have to get to school until ten or half past ten. I enjoyed having a legitimate reason to arrive late.

The tightly run Scout Movement also appealed to me. We picked up interesting skills like tying knots, building campfires, orienteering and surviving in the wild. As a Venner, a group leader, I assumed my first leadership duties.

I found the international focus exhilarating. A high­light of being a scout is the chance to attend the annual jamborees, where scouts from all over the world come together. At first, there seemed little chance that a 14-year-old scout from Mels would be invited to the jamboree in Marathon in the Greek region of Attika. But I simply applied and, what do you know, I was selected to join the Swiss delegation.

We drove to the Italian port of Brindisi, made the crossing to Patras—I remember the ferry being a real rust bucket—then continued on to Marathon. However, I didn’t stand a chance in the sporting events. Many participants from the United States and Africa were in a different league to us. But we enjoyed the romance of sitting around the campfire with our international crew all the more. When I got home, I found comfort in Caesar’s words “mallem hic primus esse quam Romae secundus” (better to be first here than second in Rome). In a certain sense, that was also my motto at school.

School Years

My five years at elementary school in Mels went smooth­ly. My way of getting to school was a little out of the ordinary: “There he goes again,” people would shout after me, chuckling, as I usually ran the half-mile route to school and back. For me, it was a self-imposed trai­ning session. Josef was “a very serious child,” my mother once told a reporter, “always focused and striving.” People in the village often told her how “polite and help­ful” I was. One neighbor even said I would become a pas­tor one day. She was way off the mark with that one! In fact, one day an elementary school teacher gave me a smack on the head from behind during a church service because we boys had been laughing and joking.

Otherwise, was I a model child? When I ask my pa­rents to recall any of my mischief, they have to think for a while. One time I got carried away practicing shot put in the garden. Suddenly there was a shattering sound—my father recalls—and a large stone landed in his con­sultation room. No one was injured. Another time, for some unknown reason, I threw a phone book at my brother, again resulting in a broken window pane.

The cantonal school in Chur, an academic high school, marked the next stage in my life. I passed the entrance exam without any difficulties. My grandmother used to wake me up at 6 a.m., then after breakfast I would grab my bike and cycle 20 minutes to Sargans train station. The departure time to Chur of 7:02 a.m. remains etched in my memory.

School started shortly after 8 o’clock. We had to wear a school cap—that was our uniform. At the start of the semester, all the students sang “Großer Gott, wir loben dich” (“Great God, we Praise You”) in the assembly hall. Why do I mention this? Because it was an incredibly ­positive and natural experience, at the tender age of twelve, to be doing my own thing from 6:30 in the morn­ing until 7 in the evening. My brothers and I were brought up to be independent and that’s how we liked it.

During lunch breaks, my classmates and I would go into town and buy a sandwich or sit in one of the cafés to have a bite to eat. In the morning I studied on the train and on the way home in the evening we played a Swiss card game called Jass. Our father also taught us to be financially independent. Since we were out and about for the entire school day, we soon learned how to use our pocket money wisely.

There was no parental supervision. We had a rela­tionship of absolute trust. However, our parents would not have hidden their disappointment if we had been wasteful with our resources.

As we quickly realized, it’s more rewarding to save up your pocket money to invest in something worthwhile, rather than frittering it away.

The Kanti, as we called the cantonal school, offered studies in humanities. We had seven years of Latin and five years of Ancient Greek. These two subjects were compulsory in the school-leaving examination, the Ma­tu­ra. It was our in-depth study of antiquity that gave us a reputation for being a little snooty.

We were scarcely aware of the pop culture of the time (except when I was in England); it seemed rather frivolous. We were more interested in discussing Homer, Cicero or Socrates, Greek and Roman philosophy, so we belonged to a rather aloof school community. In some respects, we were snobs.

In the small town of Chur, which is the oldest town in Switzerland, students at the Kanti enjoyed something akin to university student status. Although we were at high school, we wore a cap and, in our final year, we would sometimes go for a beer before catching the train home. There was some sense of belonging to an elite.

The classes were mixed gender, even back then, and we could choose where we wanted to sit. I liked to sit with the girls in the back rows. Obviously some flirting went on at school, people would develop crushes.

My school friends Andres, Christian and I were particu­larly close-knit. The class teacher soon labeled us “les coquins” (the rascals). One time during a ski trip, we split off from the others to try a more challenging descent. As punishment, we had to spend two hours in detention on a Saturday afternoon and write an essay on teamwork. We took the topic literally and wrote a joint essay. Our silent protest didn’t land us in any further trouble.

One of these friends later became a renowned lawyer, the other a well-known law professor. Sadly, both have passed away in recent years. Together we edited the school newspaper Sprachrohr (the Mouthpiece). On the whole, our class was perceived as somewhat arrogant, because those who chose Ancient Greek as a subject were inherently among the stronger students. In my case, this was thanks to my grandmother, who helped me practice my vocabulary. I still enjoy reading ancient Greek epics and dramas such as the Odyssey, Iphigenia in Tauris and Prometheus Bound.

My friends and I took a keen interest in politics. Not as revolutionaries or supporters of political parties. Rather, we would engage in lively debates about Marxism or Plato’s concept of the philosopher king, our curiosity sparked by our studies of antiquity. Perhaps it was down to the ancient-inspired school of thought we absorbed in the classroom. I remember one day a teacher gave an hour-long lecture on the krater, a bulbous vessel used in ancient times for mixing water and wine.

Today it would probably be dismissed as wasted time, but I would beg to differ. That day we learned about atten­tion to detail and gained insights into modern painting. Learning the grammar and structure of the Latin language also proved very beneficial for my logical thinking in the years to come.

The journey to my school-leaving exams in 1967 went without a hitch. Behind me lay many happy school years—without drugs, computers, texting or ­smart­phones. Girls played a prominent role in my youth, of course, but these were comparatively innocent times. For us students, even having long hair was regarded as the pinnacle of depravity!

Avoid the Irreversible

From an early age, I had come up with the maxim “Never do anything irreversible.” What do I mean by that? Deci­sions can have final, irrevocable and permanent conse­quences. For instance, I was delighted to have the chance to learn Ancient Greek at secondary school, because there would be very few opportunities to do so later in my career.

I have always tried to find alternatives and keep my options open. Sometimes this entailed unforeseen risks. For example, when I later took charge of derivatives trading at Credit Suisse. Such situations occurred count­less times, in various forms, later in my life. Doubters and companions with well-intentioned advice have been a constant over the years. At Credit Suisse, I was told that I would never make it to the top as a Catholic. I was warned about the dangers of derivatives, and during the financial and European debt crisis I was urged to refrain from too many public appearances, otherwise I would become the “face of the financial crisis.” It didn’t put me off in the slightest. I’ve always seen challenges as opportunities that I want and need to grasp.

Sometimes it’s about having the courage to explore possibilities with confidence and self-belief, to tread new paths and seize opportunities that may never come around again. Whether it turns out to be a springboard or a personal flop is of secondary importance and can never be guaranteed. However, if you take the chance, you’ll never have to regret a missed opportunity. Besides, both positive and negative experiences bring valuable insights.

In this sense, I’m a confident pessimist: I always hope for the best, but I’m also prepared for the worst.

Just as it is for young people in Switzerland today, my next step after leaving school was determined in advance: it was time for my military service. And so began the next phase of my life. After the school graduation trip to Viareggio in Italy, all those who were fit for service proceeded directly to military recruit training.

Military Service and Studies

A Formative Period

Military service remains compulsory in Switzerland today. One aspect is the tried-and-tested militia system, which is unique to Switzerland. As an organizational principle, it extends beyond the military. Swiss citizens also practice the militia system in their political and social lives, for example by taking on public duties in an honorary or voluntary capacity. It’s also part of our political culture and direct democracy.

The Swiss Armed Forces have a pool of ever-ready reservists, all of whom undergo basic training. Personal military equipment is stored at home, including an assault rifle and service pistol for officers, so they can be ready for action at any moment. It’s a kind of people’s army that can be called to arms quickly if necessary. The ability to mobilize rapidly should mean that any aggres­sors will pay a high price in the event of an attack. To ensure the troops are primed for battle, army members undertake multiple refresher courses after their recruit training, usually once per year. Employees also complete the courses; companies are obliged to grant them time off work to attend.

Military service was mandatory for all able-bodied male citizens. Personally, I had made up my mind to pursue a career as an officer. It was another one of those irreversible steps: either I take it or I miss out.

Moreover, getting ahead professionally was more closely linked to a military career in those days—for two reasons. First, military service inevitably creates a network that can prove invaluable in many ways down the line. Second, you receive a certificate that attests to your disciplined work and leadership skills. Potential employers can expect a certain degree of resilience from a candidate who has pursued a successful career in the military and as an officer. They will assume you can make decisions under the most difficult conditions and motivate employees even in challenging situations.

In my case, I found that the prolonged lack of sleep during many of our training exercises also toughened me up. Later, in professional crisis situations, I possessed the stamina and endurance I needed. During the financial crisis, I often stressed that managers who can think and act in the rhythm of military leadership exude calm and maintain stability in difficult times. For leadership skills, there’s no better school than the military. I dedicate a later chapter to qualities of a good business leader.

After passing my physical endurance test with flying colors, I was sent for 17 weeks of recruit training in Bière, above Lausanne. During basic infantry training, when I was dismantling the rifle, I noticed that the train­ed mechanics in our ranks were far more skillful and quicker than the student of Ancient Greek with the ad­vanced level of Latin, who was having immense diffi­culties. But my comrades helped me out—in a spirit of togetherness that was wonderful to experience. So I gradually learned the mechanical and technical side of weapons training, with support from those around me, and gained a valuable lesson in recognizing my own limits. At the same time, the camaraderie proved that classic problems of societal division are easily overcome in the military: an individual’s social status hardly plays a role in the army, which strengthens its cohesion.

In the Line of Fire

I had chosen to join the artillery, even though the infantry had been recommended to me. I was drawn to the complex intellectual challenge of operating artillery units. Curiously, it was forbidden for the aspiring officers in the artillery to play soccer. Apparently soccer was not an appropriate sport for artillerymen. Athletics, swimming and horse riding, on the other hand, were permitted and even encouraged.

I then completed four weeks of training for non-commissioned officers in Bière and graduated as a cor­poral after a further 28 weeks. I was among the can­didates recommended for the subsequent officers’ trai­ning. We then had 18 weeks to earn the rank of lieute­nant. After several refresher and training courses, I was promoted to commander of an artillery regiment with the rank of colonel.

My active military service lasted a total of four years. One day, as a young major, I was invited by the Austrian Officers’ Association to give a talk on the Swiss militia system at an officers’ conference in Graz in the presence of the inspector general. At the end, the moderator came up to me and congratulated me with the words, “Major, thank you very much, in our ranks you would be promoted immediately.” Unfortunately, the process took a little longer in Switzerland. You first had to work your way up by completing various refresher courses and seminars.

As I mentioned, it was important for employers to play along, because you had to be granted leave during your period of service. The interplay between work and the army in the militia system was something unique, and it remains so today. Even when I was CEO of Credit Suisse, I took part in military exercises. In one maneuver, I held the rank of colonel and commanded a regiment of 54 self-propelled howitzers. I was allocated an additional 18 howitzers. Former finance minister Ueli Maurer and his bicycle battalion—a Swiss specialty—were assigned to work with me as well.

That’s when things got interesting. We were sitting in the cellar with the regimental staff and received the order to deploy. Several observers were present from NATO and the Organization for Security and Coop­era­tion in Europe (OSCE). I studied the deployment order carefully, analyzed the situation and dictated my decision. Then I gave the staff the task of determining the finer details, while I immediately set off for Zurich. The executive board was expecting me at a meeting at the Credit Suisse headquarters. Two hours later I returned to the staff quarters, still in combat uniform. In the meantime, the order had been drafted in accordance with my instructions. I gathered all the commanders together to give the order, then the live fire exercise began. Afterwards, the foreign observers said how impressed they were by the versatility and efficiency of the Swiss militia system.

My closest circle of friends goes back to my teenage years, school and military service. I got my nickname “Joe” to set me apart from all the other “Josefs” who served with me in the army.

The Mathematical-Military Society in Zurich still holds a special place in my heart. It’s an association of former senior officers, strictly members only. They meet in one of the traditional guild houses, in our case the Zur Meisen guild house. Individual members give presentations at the meetings.

To this day, I gladly accept invitations to military exercises or air shows to pay my respects to the armed forces. One time in Germany, the navy invited me to a NATO exercise. What an unforgettable experience—abseiling down from a helicopter onto a frigate and spending a night on the warship. In the evening, talking to senior officers, I got the impression that military personnel don’t enjoy the same level of social prestige in Germany as they do in Switzerland. As CEO of Deutsche Bank, I therefore always made a point of inviting representatives of the German Armed Forces to public events.

Money and Magic: Studying at HSG

I had a hard time choosing a course of study before I enrolled at the University of St. Gallen (HSG). My interests were varied. Law and political science held a lot of appeal. I also toyed with the idea of studying medicine.

My interest in economics grew from reading the business section of the Neue Zürcher Zeitung and from paying more attention to political issues. Prior to that, I was mostly concerned with the sports pages. Gradually, my focus shifted to studying economics and social sciences. That’s why I opted for St. Gallen University (HSG).

My math teacher from the secondary school in Chur thought this was a terribly banal choice. He asked me how a student interested in mathematics could consider studying economics. His view was somewhat detached from reality, since economics has plenty to do with math. As far as my teacher was concerned, economics was merely a “commercial science” rather than a natural one.

Studying at HSG is truly unique: the breadth of education, the shared interest in shaping the world—all this on a very small and intimate campus. It probably leaves a stronger impression on students than they imagine.