This post may be arriving a little later than intended, but the topic has lingered in the back of my mind for quite some time. I touched on it briefly in Special Issue #72, yet the sheer scale—and absurdity—of it all kept tugging at me. For the sake of my peace of mind, I felt compelled to explore it more fully. Some subjects simply refuse to be silenced.
A Billion Here, A Billion There…
There’s something about the phrase "Sondervermögen"—literally "special funds"—that feels both grand and elusive. Like a magic trick cloaked in fiscal jargon, it sounds responsible, forward-thinking, even generous. But dig a little deeper, and what emerges is less a strategic vision and more a spectacular sleight of hand. With nearly 869 billion euros distributed across 29 different special funds—including a 500 billion euro fund for infrastructure and climate protection, and the now-infamous 100 billion for the German Bundeswehr—one has to ask: who exactly is being protected, and who’s footing the bill?
And don’t even get started on the Bundeswehr. It will take years—no one can say exactly how many—to make it remotely fit for defence again. In the event of war, Germany's armed forces could only defend the country independently for a very short time. Experts and military planners assume that its endurance—meaning how long it could fight without allied support—would be limited to a few days, perhaps a few weeks. The reasons? A lack of equipment, ammunition shortages, staff deficits, and logistical gaps you could drive a tank through—if only there were enough functioning ones.
Of course, potential enemies are expected to be patient and polite. Surely they’ll wait until Germany has rearmed, restructured, and reached peak readiness. Because, let’s be honest, what’s the point of war if one side isn’t fully prepared? That would be terribly unsportsmanlike.
So, while the term “special funds” may conjure up images of fiscal responsibility and patriotic investment, perhaps it’s time to ask whether this is truly about national resilience, or just another well-labeled financial black hole with a PR strategy.
What’s in a Name? (A Lot, Actually)
Let’s begin with the semantics. “Special funds” sounds harmless enough—almost noble. It evokes the image of a country prudently setting aside resources for a better, safer, greener tomorrow. But why not call them what they are: special debts? After all, these are not pre-existing treasures discovered under the Bundestag—they’re borrowed billions, dressed up in a comforting euphemism.
This isn’t a financial strategy; it’s linguistic alchemy. By changing the label, the political class avoids the discomfort of words like "debt" or "burden." Instead, they offer the illusion of proactive investment—an illusion that just so happens to come with a long-term invoice.
And here's my personal theory: these “special funds” are not so much designed to fix the actual problems as they are structured to create new opportunities—for the few. The well-connected, the politically adjacent, and the contract-ready stand to benefit immensely from this fiscal windfall. Consultants, lobbyists, private contractors, and whoever else knows how to navigate the bureaucratic maze will likely see substantial returns. The average taxpayer, however, will only see the bill—eventually. Not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but certainly when the dust has settled and the next generation finds itself with fewer freedoms, fewer services, and a much larger mountain to climb.
This massive financial maneuvering isn’t just about economics—it’s a societal lever. When debts swell and budgets tighten in the future, the state will need to recoup that money. And what better way than to increase taxes, cut services, and introduce new layers of regulation and control?
In this light, "special funds" aren’t simply clever fiscal packaging. They are political time bombs, quietly set to detonate beneath future freedoms, future prosperity, and the illusion of a debt-free, issue-free tomorrow.
The Illusion of “Just Throwing Money at It”
There’s a comforting simplicity in believing that problems can be solved by adding a few zeros to a budget line. Infrastructure crumbling? Just throw 500 billion at it. Military readiness in shambles? A tidy 100 billion should do. Climate change? Add a massive fund and let the cash rain down like eco-friendly confetti.
But anyone who's ever tried to fix a broken dishwasher by throwing money at it knows that funds alone don't solve structural problems. Especially not when those funds are funneled through layers of bureaucracy, consultants, third-party contractors, and pilot programs that somehow manage to spend millions before laying a single brick or replacing a single tank tread.
So, who stands to benefit from this benevolent flood of financing? Well, not the taxpayers, and certainly not the Bundeswehr soldier stuck with outdated equipment. But consulting firms—oh, they thrive. Procurement offices? Goldmine. NGOs and agencies focused more on managing these funds than actually executing projects? Thriving.
Take, for example, the infamous case of overpriced PPE procurement or the long list of public IT projects that cost hundreds of millions and still fail to deliver functional systems. Apply that logic to billions in climate and defense funding, and the outcome is predictable: inflated contracts, minimal oversight, cozy relationships between ministries and service providers, and a whole ecosystem built around financial inefficiency.
The abuse isn’t always criminal—it’s often legal, even encouraged. Budgets balloon while results stagnate. Funds earmarked for sustainability somehow find their way into subsidies for outdated technologies, or in the case of the Bundeswehr, into procurement processes so labyrinthine they make Kafka look like an efficiency coach.
What’s worse is the illusion of progress. Press conferences are held. Green banners are printed. Policy briefs circulate. But real change? Often as elusive as the receipts for those expenditures.
And when accountability is eventually demanded, the answer is almost always the same: “It’s complicated.”
Indeed, it is. Complicated enough to ensure that responsibility is diluted while the profits remain concentrated. A masterpiece of democratic obfuscation.
Let’s face it, the bigger the pot, the blurrier the lines. In a political landscape increasingly driven by optics and urgency, these "Sondervermögen" offer a convenient tool to bypass regular budgetary constraints. They create financial playgrounds for decision-makers with reduced parliamentary oversight.
Transparency? Rare. Efficiency? Optional. Political points? Guaranteed.
Future Generations—The Silent Sponsors
Let’s not forget who will ultimately pay. While today’s leaders cut ribbons, pose for green-energy press releases, and announce “transformational investments,” it’s the next generation that will inherit the invoice. These special funds—polished, packaged, and PR-approved—are essentially IOUs wrapped in recycled paper.
The consequences go far beyond mere financial obligations. We are talking about an entire framework being built on unsustainable promises. As the debt piles up and the illusion of wealth persists, future citizens will face the triple burden of paying off interest, navigating austerity measures, and dealing with infrastructure and institutions that still—somehow—don’t function properly despite decades of billion-euro injections.
Rising debt levels will justify rising taxes. Social services will be rationed “for budgetary reasons.” Pensions may shrink while retirement ages creep ever upward. And with each new round of fiscal tightening, freedoms will erode—not in dramatic fashion, but slowly, bureaucratically, and under the convenient banner of necessity.
The story will be predictable: fewer resources for education, healthcare, or public investment, yet continued spending on “emergency” measures, forever funded through creative accounting. Regulations will increase under the guise of accountability, but in practice, they will further encroach on personal and economic freedom.
And when this economic burden collides with political instability, a disillusioned younger generation may find themselves more surveilled than supported, more taxed than trusted. What started as a “special fund” could ultimately lead to a society that feels anything but special—except in how tightly it's been budgeted, regulated, and restrained.
In short, these aren’t just financial decisions—they are moral ones. They redefine what kind of country will be left behind. Not just in euros and cents, but in dignity, opportunity, and the freedom to build something truly sustainable—without having to first dig out from someone else’s mess.
When “Special” Means Suspicious
These so-called special funds might be Germany’s most elegant deception. Dressed in the language of urgency and reform, they often amount to little more than loosely supervised bank transfers under the banner of progress.
They are sold as investments in the future but often serve as convenient vehicles for channeling public money into opaque systems with minimal scrutiny. What should have been careful planning becomes political theatre. What should have been accountability becomes abstraction, buried under layers of “special” terms and glossy policy language.
And let’s be clear: this isn’t about innovation—it’s about insulation. Insulation from criticism, from oversight, and most disturbingly, from responsibility. When a government can bypass its own fiscal rules by simply renaming the ledger, what remains of democratic transparency?
What begins as financial opportunism ends as generational injustice. While today’s decision-makers are praised for “vision,” it will be tomorrow’s citizens who face the consequences—less freedom, more surveillance, higher taxes, and fewer options. They will inherit not just the debt, but the distrust.
It’s time to ask the questions that get lost in the noise: Who truly benefits? Who decides where these billions go? And who will hold them to account?
Because when everything is “special,” nothing is normal. And when nothing is normal, it becomes all too easy to accept the unacceptable.
So perhaps the most urgent investment isn’t in green energy or military defense—it’s in clarity, accountability, and the courage to call things what they are. Debt is debt. Risk is risk. And democracy, if it’s to mean anything, must never be for sale—even at a “special” price.
🎶My Song for you
I needed something with great energy, and this is one of my go-to songs… Driver’s Seat by Sniff n’the Tears. One that should be played loud and perfect for driving on a motorway!
For more good music, go to this Spotify playlist where you can find all the songs from the Change & Evolve Letters!
📚My Poem for you
Is by Lisel Mueller (1924—2020)
On Finding a Bird’s Bones in the Woods
Even Einstein, gazing at the slender ribs of the world, examining and praising the cool and tranquil core under the boil and burning of faith and metaphor— even he, unlearning the bag and baggage of notion, must have kept some shred in which to clothe that shape, as we, who cannot escape imagination, swaddle this tiny world of bone in all that we have known of sound and motion.
👀Impression
Some impressions of Lisbon, a magical city and Time Out is one of my favorite places to go for amazing food…
What is your take on excessive government spending?
Let me know your thoughts in the comments, leave a ❤️ or send me a message. I always love hearing from you.
Wishing you a beautiful weekend wherever you are and sending love from Lisbon.
Yours
Tanja 🤗
PS. You can now also find my podcast on Spotify
Change & Evolve and feel free to get in touch