is selling out to the Chinese?
First: calm down.
Second: good.
Let me explain.
Leica is not a religion. It is not Olympus. It is not carved into Mount Sinai in brass and titanium. It is a company. Companies raise capital. Companies sell stakes. Companies evolve or they die.
Right now the headlines scream: majority stake, possible Chinese investors, private equity, whispers of exit. You see names like Andreas Kaufmann and Blackstone floating around in the background. Billion-euro valuations. Strategic buyers. Financial engineering.
And photographers freak out.
Why?
Because they think ownership equals soul.
Wrong.
The soul of Leica is not in the cap table.
The soul of Leica is in the rangefinder experience.
The friction.
The manual focus.
The constraint.
The discipline.
You think a Chinese investor changes the feeling of shooting an M with a 35mm lens wide open at night?
No.
The deeper question:
Are you using Leica as a tool —
or as an identity crutch?
If Leica sells 51% to Mars, does your eye suddenly stop working?
Does your courage evaporate?
Does your ability to step closer dissolve?
No.
Let’s be honest: Leica already manufactures globally. Leica already partners with Asian tech giants. Leica already lives in a hyper-globalized supply chain world. The myth of “pure untouched German romanticism” died decades ago.
And guess what?
The cameras are still phenomenal.
Here’s the brutal truth:
If new capital comes in, it might mean:
- More R&D
- More AI integration
- More computational innovation
- More aggressive expansion
- More survival in a brutal market
Or it might mean nothing changes at all.
What actually matters?
Does the product stay pure?
Does the design stay minimalist?
Does the brand stay uncompromising?
If yes — who cares who owns the shares.
And if no — then abandon it. Use something else. A camera is a hammer. You are the force.
I’ve always believed:
The camera is will to power.
Not stock ownership.
Not press releases.
Not geopolitical panic.
You don’t buy Leica because it’s German.
You buy it because it sharpens you.
If the brand survives, innovates, and pushes harder because of new capital?
Good.
If it softens and becomes plastic luxury fluff?
Then we revolt by ignoring it.
Simple.
Never worship brands.
Never cling to nostalgia.
Never confuse ownership structure with artistic power.
You are the photographer.
Not them.