Tariffs, tantrums, and trade wars: Trump’s Return to economic chaos
Carlos Fernández Carrasco
Director of Institutional Relations @ Rosalia de Castro | Public Speaking Coach
Ah, tariffs. The geopolitical equivalent of arguing over who gets the front seat on a family road trip: messy, unproductive, and ultimately, no one gets what they want.
And yet, Donald Trump, the former, soon-to-be current U.S. president (if the script of this dystopian drama holds), has once again decided that the best way to deal with his North American neighbors and China is to slap them with tariffs so hefty they might as well come with a gym membership.
Let’s unpack this, shall we?
In classic Trump fashion, the announcement comes with maximum bravado: a 25% tariff on imports from Mexico and Canada, plus an extra 10% on Chinese goods.
His rationale?
Blame it all on drugs, immigration, and, presumably, why his Diet Coke is always flat.
But here’s the kicker; his own administration’s data says most illegal drugs entering the U.S. do so through legal entry points, often smuggled in by U.S. citizens.
In essence, Trump’s logic is like blaming the restaurant when your Uber Eats driver swipes your fries.
And yet, the repercussions of these tariffs are anything but trivial. Economists warn of spiking inflation, disrupted supply chains, and, let’s face it, awkward moments at the next USMCA reunion party.
President Claudia Sheinbaum of Mexico took to the mic with the kind of calm that suggests she’s been binge-watching self-help podcasts.
Her message?
If the U.S. wants a tariff slap-fest, it risks not just its own economy but a critical bilateral trade relationship involving companies like Ford and General Motors.
You know, small fry.
Just some of the biggest contributors to both countries' GDPs. Her warning boils down to this: "Do you really want to pay $45,000 for a Honda Civic? Because this is how you pay $45,000 for a Honda Civic."
Meanwhile, the Mexican peso dipped on the news, presumably to hide its embarrassment.
But let’s be real, currency fluctuations are just Mexico’s way of saying, “We’ve been here before. Let’s see if he sticks to this one.”
Justin Trudeau, Canada’s affable leader and human embodiment of maple syrup, was predictably polite in his response, as we all would expect from a Canadian.
His tone suggested that he was dealing with a wayward toddler rather than the potential leader of the free world. "We talked about facts and how our economies are intertwined," he said. Translation: “I’m trying not to lose it, but come on, Don.”
Trudeau’s strategy is clear: highlight the mutual benefits of trade and hope Trump gets distracted by a cheeseburger before signing anything into law.
After all, Canada knows this rodeo; they lived through the renegotiation of NAFTA, where Trump proudly renamed the agreement without changing much of its substance.
Now, let’s not forget China, where officials likely received Trump’s tariff threats with all the enthusiasm of someone reading a parking ticket.
If there’s one country that knows how to play the long game, it’s China. And by “long game,” I mean they’ve been outwitting empires since the days when Europe thought bathing was optional.
Beijing’s likely response?
A mix of strategic retaliations and a well-timed devaluation of the yuan, all while reminding Trump that, as his track record shows, these battles tend to end in half-hearted truces that leave everyone poorer except for headline writers.
Here’s where things get grim. The Center for American Progress estimates that these tariffs could cost middle-class families an extra $1,300 a year.
That’s the equivalent of skipping Netflix for life, or, more realistically, giving up one of your two annual pumpkin spice latte splurges.
The automotive industry, which relies on cross-border manufacturing, could face compounding tariffs that drive up car prices at every stage.
And let’s not even get started on how this affects farmers, who might as well replace their tractors with horses at this point.
At the heart of this drama is Trump’s apparent desire to lump immigration, drug trafficking, and trade into one chaotic, tariff-covered bundle.
The irony?
These issues are fundamentally distinct.
Tariffs won’t stop immigration.
They won’t stop drugs.
What they will do is pass costs onto American consumers, destabilize relationships with key allies, and make trips to Walmart slightly more gut-wrenching than they already are.
But perhaps this is Trump’s strategy all along. If you’re angry about expensive avocados, maybe you won’t notice other policies crumbling quietly in the background.
In all seriousness, the economic interconnectedness of North America and the world is not just a feature; it’s the foundation of modern trade.
Disrupting it over domestic grievances is like cutting off your Wi-Fi because you’re mad at your roommate.
Sure, you’ve made your point, but now everyone’s miserable, and Netflix still won’t work.
So, what’s the answer?
Maybe we should all collectively enroll Donald Trump in a crash course on economics or, at least, convince him that tariffs are like ex-wives: the more you pile up, the more expensive and complicated things get.
In the meantime, let’s keep the conversation alive, support fair trade, and ensure that misguided policies don’t turn into lasting economic scars.
Alright, here’s the real question: Would you pay $45,000 for a Honda Civic just to prove a point?
Because that’s where we’re headed. Let’s hope cooler heads (and saner policies) prevail.