The joke about SAP has always been, it's making '50s German

Hear the voice of Marc Andreessen, one of the great architects of the digital age, co-creator of the early web browser and a prophet of venture capital. He spoke with both wit and warning when he said: “The joke about SAP has always been, it’s making ’50s German manufacturing methodology, implemented in 1960s software technology, delivered to 1970-style manufacturing organizations, like, it’s really—yeah, the incumbency—they are still the lingering hangover from the dot-com crash.” These words, though clothed in humor, contain a deep truth about the perils of stagnation and the weight of legacy systems that resist the winds of change.

The meaning of his saying is layered. Andreessen critiques the persistence of old ways wrapped in old tools, describing how SAP, a titan of enterprise software, embodies methodologies and technologies of the past while attempting to serve the needs of the present. He points to the danger of clinging too tightly to traditions and frameworks forged in another era. For when organizations remain locked in the logic of yesterday, they risk becoming relics, unable to keep pace with the quickening pulse of the future. His words are not only about software—they are about the eternal struggle between innovation and incumbency.

The origin of this sentiment lies in the cycles of technological revolution. In the 1950s, German industry perfected structured methodologies for efficiency, born from an age of rebuilding after war. In the 1960s, computing was young, and software design was rigid, built in mainframes and punch cards. By the 1970s, corporations adopted these practices to enforce order and structure. Yet decades later, when the internet dawned and the dot-com boom brought forth fluidity, speed, and decentralization, many of these incumbents struggled to adapt. Thus, Andreessen calls them the “lingering hangover,” still bound by structures long obsolete, even as the world moved on.

History offers parallels. Consider the mighty Ottoman Empire, which once ruled vast lands with unmatched power. Their military was built on the discipline of the Janissaries, formidable in their prime. Yet, as warfare evolved with firearms and new tactics, the Janissaries clung to old methods, resisting reform. Their strength became their weakness, and the empire that had once seemed eternal began to crumble under the weight of its inability to adapt. So too with organizations bound by old technologies and methodologies: what once brought dominance, when left unrenewed, becomes a burden.

Andreessen’s words also reflect the spirit of the dot-com crash, when many companies, bloated by speculation, collapsed into dust. Yet some incumbents survived, not by agility, but by inertia. They remained, like monuments of a bygone era, functional but uninspired. This is his warning: survival alone is not triumph. To endure without innovation is to be trapped in the past, useful only as a shadow of what might have been.

The lesson for us is this: do not allow your tools, your habits, or your institutions to become frozen relics. Respect tradition, but never be enslaved to it. The world moves swiftly, and those who cling too tightly to yesterday’s ways will find themselves mocked by tomorrow. Seek always to question, to refine, to embrace new technologies and methods that serve the present rather than enshrine the past.

Practically, this means examining your own life and work. Ask: am I building upon living foundations, or am I merely maintaining the ruins of older systems? Am I adapting to the challenges of my time, or hiding behind structures built for a different age? Like Andreessen, learn to laugh at the absurdity of clinging to outdated frameworks, but also act—renew, innovate, and prepare for what lies ahead.

Thus, engrave this truth upon your heart: innovation is life, stagnation is decay. The past is a teacher, but it cannot be the master of the future. Those who cling only to old tools will be left behind, chased by the march of progress. But those who dare to let go, to build anew, will inherit not the hangover of yesterday, but the dawn of tomorrow.