Is Germany’s Economic Model Truly Kaputt?

More than two decades after Germany was famously called “the sick man of the euro” by The Economist magazine, investors must wonder if the country’s industrial heart is once again critically weak. This week brought more dismal German economic data: Industrial production fell 1.5% in June from the previous month, worse than analysts expected. Though figures released on Friday showed a rise in exports, the volume of goods Germany sends abroad is still close to lows plumbed in the 2009 global financial crisis.

German gross domestic product has clocked three quarters of negative or zero growth , making the country the worst performer among major eurozone nations since 2019. Previously it was the top performer. How long this “slowcession” lasts is a crucial question for picking stocks in Europe. Despite the recent economic reversal, the DAX has been by far the best equity index in the eurozone over 20 years, returning almost 360%.

By comparison, investing in long-stagnant Italy yielded a paltry 140% return. German industrial output has been in decline since 2018, when global vehicle sales fell for the first time in almost a decade. A postpandemic rebalancing of spending toward services has made the situation worse. Growth in China, the fourth-largest market for German exporters, has slowed.

On Thursday, shares in Siemens —the largest industrial firm in Europe—fell 5% after it cited these two factors as the cause of a fall in orders during the second quarter. Some of the grit that has gotten into the German economic machine might be hard to dislodge . Chinese carmakers have turned from partners into fierce competitors as Volkswagen , BMW and Mercedes-Benz play catch-up in electric-vehicle technology.

It isn’t just China that is seeking to substitute imports for domestic products; the Biden administration is copying Beijing’s playbook. There is also energy. At the same time as German industry has lost Russia as its main source of cheap gas, Berlin has closed the country’s last three nuclear power plants. Angst has gripped German officials and executives in an echo of worries voiced at the start of the millennium, when unemployment surged and globalisation ravaged factories.

Back then, the response was a policy package that prioritised international competitiveness, incentivising the creation of low-pay “minijobs.” The government embraced fiscal austerity and nudged unions to push for wage restraint. The result was a 20-year decline in unemployment and a current-account surplus that reached an eye-watering 8% of GDP even as the U.S. ran huge deficits. Many economists praised German labor flexibility and fiscal austerity.

Conversely, critics pointed out that surpluses made most households worse off, and that Germany’s factory-job losses were just as large as America’s. Politics aside, it was largely a fortuitous jump in foreign demand that drove growth, allowing the nation to solidify gains in industries where it already had an advantage.

“Over the last 20 years, Germany always had an external sugar daddy: China, the eurozone and then the U.S.,” said Carsten Brzeski , chief economist at ING.

The flaw in this model was that it outsourced economic policy, leading to problematic dependencies on geopolitical rivals. It also fostered an excessive focus on old winners at the expense of new digital technologies and renewable energy. Bearish investors are right that it will take years to rectify these problems, particularly given the complexity of consensus-based German politics. Yet the German export-led model also got a lot right. As in China or South Korea, it channeled demand toward higher-productivity, higher-wage firms.

Unlike in the U.S., German manufacturing became more complex. That allowed the country’s industrial base to survive better than in other Western countries. In a world where nations are scrambling to reshore industries, Germany already has them. The readiest answer to its growth challenge isn’t to turn away from manufacturing but to double down by taking a page from Chinese and now U.S. industrial policy.

The German government is already doing this with semiconductors as part of the European Chips Act. Back in June, it signed off on 10 billion euros (around $11 billion) in subsidies for American chip maker Intel to build two plants, and earlier this week it committed €5 billion to help Taiwan’s TSMC set up a factory with local partners like Infineon.

A similar approach is needed to upgrade the country’s power generation and transmission and accelerate the transformation of carmakers and other industrial incumbents. Long-term energy guarantees could stem cost swings in the meantime. Given its political influence over the European Union, it seems hard to imagine that the bloc’s green-economy push could somehow leave Germany in a less dominant position . Historically, this is one patient that always leaves the hospital.

For decades, Australia has leaned into its reputation as the lucky country. But luck, as it turns out, is not an economic strategy.

What once looked like resilience now appears increasingly fragile. Beneath the surface of rising property values and steady headline growth, the Australian economy is showing signs of strain that can no longer be ignored.

Recent data paints a sobering picture. Australia has recorded one of the largest declines in real household disposable income per capita among advanced economies.

Wages have failed to keep pace with inflation, meaning many Australians are working harder for less. On a per capita basis, income growth has stalled and, at times, reversed.

And yet, on paper, things still look relatively solid. GDP is growing. Unemployment remains low. But that growth is increasingly being driven by population expansion rather than productivity.

More people are contributing to output, but not necessarily improving living standards.

That distinction matters.

For years, Australia’s economic success rested on a powerful combination: a once-in-a-generation mining boom, a credit-fuelled housing market, strong migration and a property sector that rarely faltered. Between 1991 and 2020, the country avoided recession entirely, building enormous wealth in the process.

But much of that wealth is tied to property. Around two-thirds of household wealth sits in real estate, inflated by leverage and sustained by demand. It has worked, until now.

The problem is the supply side of the economy has not kept up.

Housing supply is falling behind population growth. Rental vacancies are near record lows.

Construction firms are collapsing at an elevated rate. At the same time, massive infrastructure pipelines are competing with residential projects for labour and materials, pushing costs higher and delaying delivery.

The result is a system under pressure from all angles.

Despite near full employment, productivity growth has stagnated for years. In simple terms, Australians are putting in more hours without generating more output per hour. The economy is running faster, butgoing nowhere.

Meanwhile, government spending continues to expand. Public debt is approaching $1 trillion, with spending now accounting for a record share of GDP.

The gap between spending and revenue has been filled by borrowing for decades, adding further pressure to an already stretched system.

This is where the uncomfortable question emerges.

Has Australia become too reliant on a model driven by rising property values, expanding credit and population growth?

As asset prices rise, households feel wealthier and borrow more. Banks lend more. Governments collect more revenue. Migration fuels demand. The cycle reinforces itself.

But when productivity stalls and debt outpaces real income, the system begins to depend on constant expansion just to stay stable.

It is not a collapse scenario. But it is not particularly stable either.

Nowhere is this more evident than in housing.

The National Housing Accord targets 1.2 million new homes over five years, yet current completion rates are well below that pace. With approvals falling and construction costs rising, the gap between supply and demand is widening, not narrowing.

Housing is also one of the largest contributors to inflation, with costs rising sharply across rents, construction and utilities. Yet the private sector, from small investors to major developers, is struggling to make projects stack up in the current environment.

This brings the policy debate into sharper focus.

Tax settings such as negative gearing and capital gains concessions have undoubtedly boosted demand over the past two decades. But they have also supported supply. Removing them may ease prices briefly, but risks deepening the supply shortage over time.

That is the paradox.

Policies designed to make housing more affordable can, in practice, make the shortage worse if they discourage development. The optics may appeal, but the economics are far less forgiving.

It is also worth remembering that most property investors are not institutional players. The majority own just one investment property. They are, in many cases, ordinary Australians using real estate as their primary wealth-building tool.

Undermining that system without replacing it with a viable alternative risks unintended consequences, from reduced supply to higher rents and increased inflation.

So where does that leave Australia?

At a crossroads.

The country can continue to rely on population growth and rising asset prices to drive economic activity. Or it can shift towards a model built on productivity, innovation and sustainable growth.

The latter is harder. It requires structural reform, long-term thinking and political discipline.

But it is also the only path that leads to genuine, lasting prosperity.

The question is no longer whether Australia has been lucky.

It is whether it can evolve before that luck runs out.

Paul Miron is the Co-Founder & Fund Manager of Msquared Capital.

Is Germany’s Economic Model Truly Kaputt?

As housing drives wealth and policy debate, the real risk is an economy hooked on growth without productivity to sustain it.