All Magazine Essays

Should the government breakup Google?

The Department of Justice (DOJ), emboldened by a 2024 ruling that Google illegally monopolized online search, is pushing for remedies that could reshape the tech landscape. Headlines scream of breakups, data-sharing mandates, and curbs on artificial intelligence development — an audacious gambit to dismantle one of America’s most iconic innovators. Yet, as John Tamny argues in a provocative RealClearMarkets piece, the case’s headlines betray its fragility, revealing a DOJ that is overreaching into uncharted territory. The question isn’t just whether Google should be broken up, but whether the government’s crusade risks hobbling a titan at a moment when global technological supremacy is at stake.Tamny’s essay skewers the DOJ’s case with a contrarian’s glee. He points to a Bloomberg headline — “DOJ Urges Federal Judge To Break Google’s Search Grip” — and suggests its vagueness masks a lack of substance. “How interesting it would be to focus group the previous headline,” he writes, implying that public support for a breakup might crumble under scrutiny. The DOJ’s August 2024 victory, under Judge Amit Mehta, found that Google’s contracts with distributors like Apple and Mozilla — paying billions to secure default search status — stifled competition. But Tamny argues that the proposed remedies, from divesting Chrome to forcing data sharing, stray far from Mehta’s narrow ruling, venturing into what he calls “lawfare” against a company whose dominance stems from excellence, not malice.The case for breaking up Google rests on a narrative of unchecked power. The DOJ, alongside eight states, contends that Google’s 90% share of U.S. search queries — bolstered by $26 billion in payments to maintain default status — creates an impenetrable moat. Critics argue that this stranglehold harms consumers by limiting choice and innovation. A 2023 piece in The New York Times noted that rivals like Bing and DuckDuckGo struggle to gain traction, not because of inferior technology but because Google’s deals lock them out of prime real estate on browsers and smartphones. The DOJ’s remedy framework, filed in late 2024, envisions a world where Google’s grip is loosened: divestitures of Chrome or Android, bans on exclusive contracts, and mandatory data sharing to level the playing field. Proponents see this as a modern echo of the 1982 AT&T breakup, which spurred telecom innovation by dismantling a monopoly.Beyond search, the DOJ’s ambitions extend to Google’s nascent AI efforts. With AI poised to redefine global power, regulators fear that Google’s vast data troves and computational resources could cement its dominance in this frontier. A 2024 RealClearMarkets piece warned that allowing Google to leverage its search monopoly into AI leadership risks creating a “super-monopoly” that could dictate information flows worldwide. The Biden-Harris administration, in its final months, framed the case as a defense of consumer welfare, arguing that Google’s practices inflate ad prices and degrade search quality by prioritizing paid results over organic ones. Posts on X from April 2025 reflect public sentiment, with some users cheering the DOJ’s push as a check on Big Tech’s arrogance.Yet the case against a breakup is equally compelling, rooted in pragmatism and skepticism of government overreach. Google’s defenders, including Tamny, argue that its dominance reflects consumer preference, not coercion. Judge Mehta’s 2024 ruling acknowledged Google’s “unmatched quality.” He noted that Google’s contracts, while restrictive, were legal agreements with partners like Apple, who chose Google for its superior product. Critics warn that breaking up Google could fracture this ecosystem, degrading services like Chrome and Android that billions rely on. A forced divestiture of Android, for instance, might weaken its competition with Apple’s iOS, paradoxically reducing consumer choice.The AI argument cuts both ways. While the DOJ fears Google’s AI ambitions, others view its $100 billion investment as vital to U.S. leadership in the face of China, where state-backed firms like Baidu face no such antitrust scrutiny. Kneecapping Google’s AI work could cede the field to Beijing, whose vision of AI prioritizes state control over innovation. Google itself, in an April 2025 pretrial brief, warned that a breakup would undermine national security by hampering AI-driven cybersecurity advancements. This resonates in a world where China’s tech giants operate with impunity, unburdened by domestic regulators. Tamny amplifies this, suggesting the DOJ’s push risks “gifting the AI race to China” by hobbling a key American player.Consumer welfare, the cornerstone of U.S. antitrust law, complicates the DOJ case. Critics argue that Google’s free services — search, Maps, Gmail — deliver immense value, subsidized by ads that its dominance makes efficient. Forcing data sharing, as the DOJ proposes, could erode privacy, a point Tamny underscores by questioning why regulators would mandate exposing user data without consent. The DOJ’s remedies also face practical hurdles. Judge Mehta, known for his measured rulings, may balk at proposals that exceed his 2024 findings, which focused narrowly on distribution contracts. The incoming Trump administration adds another layer of uncertainty. With Gail Slater, Trump’s DOJ antitrust nominee, set to take office, analysts predict a shift toward deregulation. Trump, a self-styled businessman, may view Google’s success as a virtue rather than a vice and push for remedies that preserve its global edge.The broader context of U.S. antitrust policy sharpens the debate. A 2023 RealClearMarkets piece noted that American regulators often overlook global competitiveness, unlike their European counterparts, who utilize tools like the Digital Markets Act to regulate U.S. tech giants. Meanwhile, Google’s failed acquisitions, such as those of DoubleClick competitors that flopped, undermine claims of predatory monopolism.As the trial unfolds, the stakes transcend Google itself. A breakup could set a precedent for other tech giants, such as Amazon, Apple, and Meta, which are already under scrutiny. Yet it risks signaling to the world that America punishes success, a message that could embolden rivals in Beijing and beyond. Tamny’s RealClearMarkets piece captures this tension, framing the DOJ’s case as a misadventure that “overreaches beyond reason.” For every argument that Google’s monopoly stifles innovation, there’s a counterpoint that its scale drives it, delivering tools that define modern life.In a courtroom in Washington, Judge Mehta will soon decide Google’s fate. However, the real verdict may lie in the court of public opinion, where headlines shape perceptions as much as facts. Will Google emerge as a villain to be slain or a champion to be preserved? The answer depends on whether one sees its dominance as a threat to freedom or a testament to ingenuity. As Tamny might argue, the DOJ’s case, for all its bluster, may crumble under the weight of its ambitions, leaving Google to search on — flawed, formidable, and undeniably ours.

Trump’s war on Powell: The fight to control the Fed

In the gilded chaos of American politics, where spectacle often trumps substance, a new drama has emerged, pitting President Donald Trump against Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell in a high-stakes feud over interest rates. This clash, marked by Trump’s threats to fire Powell and his relentless public insults, is more than a personal vendetta; it’s a collision of economic philosophy, political ambition, and institutional integrity. As markets quiver and gold prices soar, the question looms: Can the Federal Reserve, a cornerstone of global economic stability, withstand the pressure of a president who views its independence as an obstacle to his agenda?The saga began in earnest in April 2025, when Trump, freshly emboldened by his return to the White House, intensified his attacks on Powell. On Truth Social, he dubbed Powell “Mr. Too Late, a major loser,” demanding immediate interest rate cuts to juice an economy he claimed was teetering on the edge of a slowdown. “Unless Mr. Too Late lowers interest rates, NOW,” Trump posted, “the economy risks slowing.” His rhetoric was not new — Trump has long viewed low interest rates as a panacea for economic woes, a reflex rooted in his real estate days when cheap borrowing fueled his empire. However, the ferocity of his 2025 salvos, coupled with explicit threats to oust Powell, has sent shockwaves through Wall Street and beyond.Powell, for his part, has remained steadfast, a bespectacled technocrat unmoved by the president’s bluster. Speaking at the Economic Club in Chicago on April 16, 2025, he warned that Trump’s proposed tariffs — sweeping levies on imports — would likely stoke inflation and raise consumer prices, complicating the Fed’s delicate balancing act. “There’s a strong likelihood that consumers would face higher prices and that the economy would see higher unemployment as a result of tariffs in the short run,” Powell said, his tone measured but firm. This was not defiance for defiance’s sake; it was a defense of the Fed’s dual mandate to control inflation while maximizing employment, a mission that often puts it at odds with political expediency.The Federal Reserve, established in 1913, was designed to be insulated from such pressures. Its Board of Governors, including the chair, is appointed to staggered 14-year terms and can only be removed for “cause” — typically misconduct, not policy disagreements. Yet Trump’s threats to fire Powell have raised a thorny question: Does the president have the legal authority to do so? The Federal Reserve Act is ambiguous on this point, omitting specific limits on the removal of the chair, who serves a four-year term as one of the seven members of the Board of Governors. No president has ever attempted to fire a Fed chair, leaving the issue untested in court. However, related lawsuits over Trump’s earlier firings are winding through the judiciary, with one case pending before the Supreme Court that could set a precedent. Powell himself has been clear: “Our independence is a matter of law,” he said last week, signaling he would not resign if pressed.Trump’s assault on Powell is not merely about interest rates; it’s part of a broader vision to bend institutions to his will. His attacks dovetail with proposals from Project 2025, a conservative blueprint that advocates curbing the Fed’s powers, including stripping its mandate to reduce unemployment and giving elected officials greater sway over monetary policy. Such moves would upend a century of precedent, undermining the Fed’s role as a nonpolitical stabilizer of the U.S. economy — and, by extension, the world’s. The International Monetary Fund, in a rare rebuke, restated the importance of central bank independence after Trump’s tirades, with chief economist Pierre-Olivier Gourinchas warning of market destabilization.Markets have already felt the heat. On April 21, 2025, the S&P 500 tumbled 2.4%, with the Dow dropping 950 points, as Trump’s attacks on Powell fueled fears of a compromised Fed. The U.S. dollar index hit a three-year low, while gold, a haven for jittery investors, surged to a record $3,500.05 per troy ounce. Bond yields spiked, with the 10-year Treasury note climbing above 4.4%, reflecting investor skepticism about the safety of American assets. “The mere possibility that Trump could erode the Federal Reserve’s independence has been enough to unnerve investors and tank the stock market,” Axios reported, warning that an actual attempt to remove Powell could plunge the global financial system into crisis.The irony is that Trump’s own policies may be driving the economic uncertainty he seeks to alleviate. His tariffs, which Powell flagged as inflationary, have already disrupted markets, with the IMF forecasting a significant global slowdown as a result. Lowering interest rates in this context could exacerbate inflation, a point Powell has underscored by holding rates steady since the Fed’s last cut in December 2024. Inflation, though down from its 9.1% peak in June 2022, remains sticky at 2.4% annually, above the Fed’s 2% target. For Powell, cutting rates prematurely risks reigniting price pressures, a lesson learned from the Fed’s post-COVID missteps when it waited too long to hike rates — a delay that earned Powell Trump’s “Too Late” moniker.Trump’s fixation on Powell also reflects a personal grudge. He appointed Powell in 2018, expecting a pliant ally, only to chafe when the Fed raised rates to combat inflation. Now, with Powell’s term as chair extending to May 2026, Trump faces a dilemma: endure a defiant Fed chief or risk a legal and market maelstrom by trying to remove him. Some analysts, like Pimco’s Libby Cantrill, doubt Trump will “pull the trigger,” citing the legal fight and market fallout as deterrents. Others, like Eric Salzman at Racket News, predict Trump will keep up the verbal barrage, making Powell’s life “miserable” until his term ends.The feud has revealed a deeper tension in American governance: the fragile line between democratic accountability and institutional autonomy. The Fed’s independence, although not absolute, has served as a bulwark against short-term political interference, allowing it to make unpopular yet necessary decisions. Yet Trump’s supporters contend that such insulation can slide into unaccountable elitism, a sentiment echoed in posts on X where users celebrate the notion of a president reining in unelected bureaucrats. Critics, however, caution that undermining the Fed’s autonomy could result in spiraling inflation and a loss of global confidence in the dollar, repercussions that would hit ordinary Americans the hardest.As the Supreme Court considers cases that could expand presidential power over federal agencies, the Trump-Powell showdown may soon test the boundaries of law and precedent. For now, Powell remains a “steady hand,” as one portfolio manager put it, a symbol of stability amid Trump’s tempest. However, stability, in this era of unrelenting disruption, is a fragile thing. The markets, like the nation, are watching, waiting for the next tweet, the next threat, the next move in a game where the stakes are nothing less than the economic future.

The tariff gambit: Trump's long game and America's trade reckoning

On April 2, 2025, Donald Trump stood in the White House Rose Garden, surrounded by a group of advisors, and declared what he termed "Liberation Day.” With a stroke of his pen, he imposed a sweeping range of tariffs -10 percent on all imports, with higher rates of 34 percent on China, 24 percent on Japan, and 25 percent on Canada and Mexico (later reduced for USMCA-compliant goods). The announcement, presented as a national economic emergency under the International Emergency Economic Powers Act, sent shockwaves through global markets. The S&P 500 dropped nearly 5 percent the following day, its worst decline since June 2020, while gold surged to $3,100 an ounce amid inflation concerns. Economists, business leaders, and foreign allies rushed to analyze the consequences, while Trump, ever the showman, celebrated it as the culmination of a promise he had been making for four decades.Trump’s fixation on tariffs isn’t new. It dates back to the 1980s when he was a brash real estate mogul criticizing Japan’s trade practices in interviews and op-eds. By June 16, 2015, when he descended the Trump Tower escalator to announce his presidential bid, tariffs and trade deficits were already his rallying cry. "China has our jobs, and Mexico has our jobs," he declared during his announcement speech, promising to reverse decades of what he viewed as America’s economic surrender. Now, nearly ten years later, with the U.S. trade deficit with China reaching a staggering $295.4 billion in 2024 under the Biden administration — an all-time high — Trump’s tariff crusade feels less like a campaign stunt and more like a personal vendetta turned policy cornerstone.The roots of the deficit: NAFTA and Clinton’s legacyTo understand Trump’s fervor, one must rewind to the 1990s, when the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) reshaped the U.S. economy. Signed by President Bill Clinton on December 8, 1993, NAFTA was heralded as a bipartisan triumph, with Clinton flanked by luminaries like George H.W. Bush and Bob Dole. "We’re going to create hundreds of thousands of jobs," Clinton proclaimed, envisioning a borderless North American market.Since the 1990s, the U.S. has lost a significant number of manufacturing jobs — decreasing from 16.8 million in 1993 to 12.4 million by 2016, a 26 percent decline. The auto sector experienced the loss of 350,000 jobs as production moved to Mexico, where employment surged from 120,000 to 550,000. The textile industry fared worse, witnessing nearly a 90 percent decline in employment as China and Mexico filled U.S. shelves. Clinton’s free-trade vision, while stimulating GDP, left behind a landscape of shuttered factories, a reality that Trump capitalized on. By 2025, the White House claims that 5 million manufacturing jobs have disappeared since 1997, a figure that, while debated, supports Trump’s narrative of betrayal by globalist elites.Trump’s case: A reckoning with ChinaTrump’s tariff salvo is fundamentally a response to this history and to China’s significant trade deficit with the U.S., which rose to $295.4 billion in 2024. This imbalance, overshadowing the $6 billion deficit of 1985, illustrates China’s emergence as a manufacturing powerhouse, driven by state subsidies, low wages, and, until recently, currency manipulation. Trump’s "reciprocal tariff" formula — calculating the deficit divided by imports and then halving it — produced China’s 34 percent rate, a blunt tool to penalize what he refers to as "cheaters." His advisors, including Peter Navarro, contend that this will bring jobs back to America, reflecting Trump’s long-standing concern that the country’s openness has been taken advantage of.The benefits of this approach resonate with Trump’s base. Tariffs could generate $100 billion in revenue, according to White House estimates, helping to offset a federal deficit that is ballooning toward $1.8 trillion. Ford’s Jim Farley may warn of a "hole" in U.S. industry, but Trump responds that 50 percent of cars sold in 2024 were imported — why not manufacture them here? His first-term tariffs on steel and aluminum, after all, spurred some domestic growth, and the USMCA, which he pushed through to replace NAFTA, strengthened rules to favor American workers. For Trump, the trade deficit with China isn’t just statistics — it represents a symbol of lost sovereignty, a grievance he’s harbored since the Reagan era.Mitt Romney’s presidential campaigns provide an interesting parallel. In 2008, he scarcely addressed China or tariffs, concentrating instead on domestic issues during the financial crisis. By 2012, confronted with a struggling industrial heartland, he made a significant shift. "I will crack down on cheaters like China," he proclaimed, promising to label Beijing a currency manipulator on the first day and impose tariffs. This stance was tougher than his free-trade inclinations as a Bain Capital executive, indicating political expediency. Trump, however, has surpassed Romney’s rhetoric, transforming a campaign promise into a second-term crusade, driven by the conviction that China’s $295.4 billion deficit in 2024 supports his argument.The drawbacks: Friedman’s ghost and modern warningsYet, Trump’s tariff triumph is accompanied by a chorus of dissent, reflecting the free-market principles of Milton Friedman. The Nobel laureate, a giant of the Chicago School, regarded tariffs as an economic sin. "They raise prices for consumers and waste our resources," he wrote in 1993, arguing that free trade benefits everyone by allowing nations to specialize. In "The Case for Free Trade," he debunked protectionist myths — exchange rates, not tariffs, balance wage disparities, he argued — and advocated for unilateral free trade, a radical idea that Trump scorns. Friedman’s influence is significant: tariffs, he would contend, would drive iPhone prices to $2,300, according to Rosenblatt Securities, impacting consumers the most.Contemporary economists amplify this critique. The Budget Lab at Yale predicts a one-point decrease in GDP by 2025, with unemployment rising from 4.2 to 4.7 percent, potentially costing millions of jobs, according to Harry Holzer of Brookings. Nomura Securities forecasts a modest 0.6 percent GDP growth, with inflation approaching 4.7 percent. Reuters warns of a global trade war, with JPMorgan estimating a 60 percent chance of recession by year-end. Lawrence Summers, former Treasury Secretary under Clinton, described Trump’s plan as "dangerous and damaging," likening it to "creationism in biology." The IMF’s Kristalina Georgieva anticipates a decline in global growth from 3.3 percent, while Fitch’s Olu Sonola points out that the U.S. tariff rate — now at 22 percent — matches levels seen in 1910, risking a Smoot- Hawley repeat.Businesses already feel the pinch. Stellantis has shuttered a Windsor plant for two weeks, idling 3,600 workers, as Canada retaliates with 25 percent tariffs. The Beer Institute is concerned about a 25 percent tariff on aluminum cans, which threatens a $7.5 billion industry. The OECD projects that U.S. growth will slide to 1.6 percent in 2026, a stark drop from 2.8 percent in 2024. Critics argue that Trump’s formula misreads trade deficits — driven more by U.S. consumption than by foreign barriers, according to the U.S. Chamber of Commerce — inviting chaos rather than clarity.The verdict: A high-stakes betTrump’s tariff gambit is a high-wire act, balancing visceral appeal with economic peril. On one side, it’s a populist outcry against a $295.4 billion Chinese deficit, a 40-year obsession now transformed into policy. It promises jobs, revenue, and a manufacturing renaissance, tapping into genuine pain — those 5 million jobs lost since 1997 and the devastated towns NAFTA left behind. Romney’s 2012 pivot demonstrated that this chord resonates; Trump’s just playing it louder. Yet, Friedman’s logic and modern forecasts warn of a boomerang effect — higher prices, global retaliation, and a recessionary spiral that could overshadow any gains.The trade deficit with China, peaking in 2024, serves as Trump’s Exhibit A, yet his solution risks fracturing a world economy he claims to save. For every factory revived, a consumer pays more; for every dollar in tariffs, a market trembles. As the Nikkei, FTSE, and S&P reel, Trump’s "Liberation Day" may liberate America from one burden only to bind it to another. Four decades in the making, this is his moment — but whether it ends in triumph or tragedy depends on a ledger still unwritten.

The economists were wrong before

Most economists would disagree with Donald Trump's new reciprocal tariff policy, unveiled yesterday as the cornerstone of his second term. They would argue, with furrowed brows and stacks of data, that tariffs distort markets, inflate prices, and invite retaliation — textbook heresies against the gospel of free trade. Yet most of those same economists spent decades nodding along to the previous approach, the one that sent jobs and manufacturing overseas in a slow bleed that transformed the Rust Belt into a mausoleum of shuttered factories.The Rust Belt seems to trust Trump, delivering him the presidency based on his promise to enact the very tariff policy announced yesterday. Why are the voters mistaken and the experts correct? This is an important question that experts and the media must answer, as they show no hesitation in expressing their excitement at the prospect of Trump's failure. They may end up being right — the consensus is overwhelmingly in their favor at the moment — but isn’t it worth exploring how and why they were wrong in the past?The irony is thick: the consensus that once promised prosperity through globalization now stands accused of hollowing out the very nation it claimed to enrich. The story of how we arrived at Trump's tariff gambit involves hubris, unintended consequences, and a populist backlash that has been simmering since the giddy years of the last century.Let’s return to the late summer of 1999. The dot-com bubble was swelling, Y2K paranoia was a faint hum, and America stood atop a unipolar world. The Soviet Union was a ghost, and globalization — free markets unfettered, borders softened — was the triumphant creed. Bill Clinton, with his Cheshire grin and third-way swagger, had already shepherded NAFTA into law five years earlier, cracking open the continent for a flood of goods and capital. The World Trade Organization, which the U.S. joined in 1995, represented the next step: a global pact to weave the planet into one vast, efficient bazaar. Economists cheered, pointing to GDP spikes in nations that embraced the gospel. Corporate chieftains salivated over labor costs that plummeted when you relocated a factory from Toledo to Tijuana. It was, as the think-tank clerics at Brookings called it, the era of the "Washington Consensus" — a belief that open markets would lift all boats, from Wall Street to Main Street.That faith was a mirage, the wreckage undeniable. The middle class, once a broad and sturdy plank of the American edifice, has splintered. Manufacturing jobs — six million of them — vanished between 1990 and 2010, sucked into the maw of China's WTO-enabled rise. Towns like Youngstown and Flint became sepia-toned postcards of a lost age, with their steel mills and auto plants replaced by Dollar Generals and despair. The COVID-19 pandemic laid bare the folly of it all: supply chains, stretched gossamer-thin across oceans, snapped, leaving America begging for masks and chips from a China it now regarded as a rival, not a partner. Globalization, the golden calf of the nineties, morphed into a scapegoat for a nation unmoored.The nineties didn’t just create legendary country music; it was also a time when the U.S., drunk on post-Cold War confidence, viewed itself as the architect of a borderless utopia. NAFTA was the opening shot, a deal that filled shelves with affordable TVs but devastated factory towns. The WTO established the rules, prioritizing efficiency over sovereignty. Corporations flocked to Shenzhen and Bangalore, seeking wages far lower than the American norm. The Brookings crowd celebrated the benefits — lower prices and global growth — while overlooking the fine print: the American worker would bear the burden. And bear it they did. The data is grim: income inequality widened, the top one percent thrived on global profits, while the bottom half saw their share diminish. The Atlantic, reflecting on this period, described it as a "Roaring Nineties" for some — a roaring disaster for others.Enter Trump, stage right, with a policy as retro as it is radical. Tariffs aren't new — Alexander Hamilton loved them, and they bankrolled the government for a century — but they're a middle finger to the past thirty years of orthodoxy. Robert Lighthizer, the owlish ex-lawyer who's spent decades brooding over trade deficits, is the brain behind it. On The Tucker Carlson Show last month, he laid it out with a flinty clarity: "A country that doesn't make things is a country destined to lose." For him, tariffs aren't just a tax; they're a defibrillator for an industrial heart that's flatlined. Trump's pitch is simple: slap duties on imports, force production back home, and watch the mills hum again. It's a vision that's less about economic fine-tuning than about national resurrection — one that's found fertile ground in a populace fed up with elite promises.There's a cultural thread here that runs deeper than spreadsheets. Globalization didn't just offshore jobs; it eroded something intangible — pride, identity, and the quiet dignity of a "Made in America" stamp. Lightizer frames this as a moral struggle: A nation that can't stand on its own is a nation adrift. Trump understands this. His tariffs, along with tax breaks for domestic companies, aim to rebuild not only the economy but also a narrative — a story of strength that globalization's bland uniformity erased.Back in 1999, the dream of a borderless world felt invincible. Markets would solve everything; sovereignty would be a relic; workers would adapt. It was a beautiful theory — until it wasn't. Trump's tariffs, blunt and brash, represent a repudiation of that hubris — a bet that America can reclaim its footing not by retreating but by remembering what it once knew: that a nation thrives when it builds, not just when it buys. Most economists might scoff, but it’s worth remembering they have been wrong before. The tapestry of globalization is in shreds, and Trump is threading a new one, stitch by stubborn stitch. Whether it holds is anyone's guess.

Bedtime stories can’t buy G-Wagons

Some lunch meetings have more impact than others. Ron and Jacob’s once-a-quarter bread-breaking, something they’d held sacred since they met almost four years ago, was nothing if not high-impact. It always left both feeling pleased to have invested their valuable time in building the relationship. It doesn’t need to be stated, and a better narrator would simply omit this detail, but neither Ron nor Jacob has so much as touched a loaf of bread in years. Sure, the title of the ritual outing was always “Breaking Bread” on the calendar invite, but that’s nothing more than a touch of wit and humor between professional acquaintances. (The wit stems from how closely the title resembles their shared favorite television show, while the humor arises from the fact that they both practice intermittent fasting.) They do order food to maintain appearances. This particular lunch took place in the same spot as the others. I’ve chosen to omit the restaurant’s name since they declined to sponsor this story — a request they didn’t understand, and I couldn’t explain. I will admit that the establishment is known as the gathering place for prominent founders and investors. The food is overpriced, and the drinks are watered down, but, as I mentioned earlier (proving I may have been selling myself short as a narrator), these days, no one eats lunch or drinks anything other than the enhanced water they bring from home.“Bro, I’m telling you, you have to come tonight,” Ron said to Jacob after they finished ordering entrees. “The fireside chat will be dogshit boring, something about how to raise venture capital, but the networking will be so baller — so money — that skipping whatever you said you had to do tonight is the only option.”“I don’t know, man. My wife will kill me if I miss another one of my kid’s concerts.”“Your wife? Doesn’t she know you’re only doing it for her future?”“I mean, you’re right, of course, but that doesn’t track whenever I try to explain it to her that way.”“Would a brand new G-Wagon track? Because that’s the kind of business that can come out of tonight. I’m telling you — everyone will be there.”“I wish she understood I don’t like going to these things — at all. Just a bunch of egos in a room pretending to like each other so they can gain some sort of advantage.”“Yeah, you’d never hang out with the kind of people who go to these events in real life, but you’ve got to be willing to suck it up if you want to win.”“You’re right. I’m sure I’ll see you there.”“Wait — did you say you have a kid? How old?”Ron was right about the fireside — it was dogshit — but wrong about the networking. The people there weren’t the right people. He didn’t want to talk to those people; he wanted to connect with the people who weren’t there. Frankly, he would have preferred speaking to literally anyone other than the people who showed up. Where were the right people? He hoped they didn’t find out he was there. That wouldn’t be a good look — attending an event that wasn’t worth the right people’s time.On the drive home, with the All-Podcast playing in the background, Jacob thought about how close he was to achieving his goal of becoming successful according to the standard of strangers. He deserved it. He’d put in the work, sacrificed what really mattered, and did a cold plunge every morning at exactly 5 am. Unfortunately, all this hustle was putting a major strain on his relationship with his wife and kids. They could tell he was distracted, struggling for presence even at home.He was starting to wonder whether his wife still respected him. She seemed unimpressed by his accomplishments and had begun to resent his work. As a wife and mother, she wanted him to be nothing more than a husband and father. Had he taken the best days of her life in pursuit of the world's respect and admiration while losing it from the only people who truly matter?He wasn’t sure if his kids understood what he did outside the house; they probably wouldn’t recognize out-of-the-house dad. They knew he was gone a lot. Why did other people need their dad more than they did? Jacob knew he couldn’t rise to his own defense if asked. As Childers sings, there was a good man in the making once, but is he still alive?As he snuck into his daughter’s room to kiss her goodnight, she woke up and asked, “How did the event go, Dad?”“It was fine, sweetie. How was your choir concert?”“It was good. I missed a few notes, but Mom says no one noticed. She recorded it on her phone for you.”“I can’t wait to watch it. Sorry I missed it, kiddo.”“It’s okay, Dad. I know you’re busy. Love you.”“I love you, too.”Jacob turned off the night lamp and gently closed the door. He stood outside his daughter’s room longer than necessary. At the event, one of the speakers discussed the importance of balancing work and home life. Don’t hesitate to work hard, he advised, knowing it will pay off when you achieve success and can spend your time as you choose. As he listened, Jacob thought about all of the time he would spend with his wife and kids once he reached the finish line. That’s who he’d want to be with after finally achieving success. Now, at home with everyone asleep, he wondered why he couldn't bypass the success part — whatever that meant — and just choose his wife and kids right now. What was he waiting for?Jacob typed the question in his notes app so he could discuss it with Ron at their next lunch. Glancing at the time, he realized he needed to go to bed soon if he hoped to get tomorrow morning’s cold plunge in. He needed the clarity that icy water offered before another day of sacrificing himself to the grind.

Globalization’s Collapse: Why the middle class views Trump’s tariffs as their last stand

In the late summer of 1999, as the dot-com bubble grew and the American economy thrived during what The Atlantic would later refer to as “The Roaring Nineties,” the United States found itself at the height of a new world order. The Soviet Union had dissolved, the Cold War was a distant memory, and globalization — celebrated as the victory of free markets and liberal democracy — was the doctrine of the time. The Clinton administration, buoyed by post-Cold War optimism, pushed through NAFTA and ushered the U.S. into the World Trade Organization, promising a future of unbounded prosperity. Economists pointed to surging GDP growth in globalization-focused nations, as Boundless U.S. History notes, while corporate leaders were eager at the prospect of cheaper labor and untapped markets. It was, in the words of Brookings, an era when the “Washington Consensus” on free trade seemed unassailable — an ideological juggernaut ready to weave the world into a single, shimmering tapestry of commerce.Fast forward to March 24, 2025, and that tapestry lies in tatters. The factories of the Rust Belt stand silent, their hulks a testament to jobs shipped overseas. The middle class, once the backbone of American life, has been hollowed out, with stagnant wages and crumbling towns. Supply chains, stretched thin across oceans, snapped during the COVID-19 pandemic, exposing a nation dependent on foreign powers — chiefly China — for everything from steel to semiconductors. Globalization, once the golden calf of the elite, has shown itself to be a false idol, leaving a trail of economic wreckage and social discontent. And into this breach steps Donald Trump, armed with a policy as old as the republic itself: tariffs.In a recent interview on The Tucker Carlson Show, Robert Lighthizer, former U.S. Trade Representative under Trump and the intellectual architect of his trade agenda, presented his case with the precision of someone who has spent decades analyzing America’s economic decline. “A country that doesn’t make things is a country destined to lose,” he stated. For Lighthizer, tariffs are not just a tax; they represent a lifeline, a way to revive an industrial base that has been hollowed out by years of free trade ideology. Trump’s economic vision, articulated by Lighthizer and echoed across platforms such as The Conservative Treehouse and Occidental Dissent, represents a radical departure from the globalist orthodoxy of the past thirty years — a bid to reclaim America’s sovereignty, one steel mill at a time.The story of how we got here reflects as much hubris as it does economics. In the 1990s, as American Foreign Relations recounts, the U.S. viewed itself as the undisputed leader of a unipolar world. Globalization was not merely a policy but a mission — to spread capitalism and democracy to every corner of the globe. NAFTA, signed in 1994, was the first major salvo, opening borders to a surge of inexpensive goods from Mexico and Canada. The WTO followed suit, binding the U.S. to a system of rules that valued efficiency over resilience. Corporate America celebrated, drawn by the allure of lower labor costs in places like Shenzhen and Guadalajara. The Brookings analysis of trade policy during that decade captures the sentiment: a belief that open markets would benefit everyone and that the rising tide of global wealth would support American workers just as it did for Wall Street.It didn’t. The tide came in, but it drowned the heartland. Manufacturing jobs, once the bedrock of the middle class, vanished at a staggering pace. Between 1990 and 2010, the U.S. lost roughly six million such jobs, many to China after its entry into the WTO in 2001. Communities in Ohio, Michigan, and Pennsylvania—places where steel and auto plants once thrived — have withered into ghost towns, their populations decimated by unemployment and opioids. Endless economic charts illustrate this decline with cold clarity: the outsourcing boom enriched corporations and foreign economies while leaving American workers to fend for themselves. Income inequality widened, as the top one percent reaped the rewards of global capital flows while the bottom half saw their share of the pie shrink. The Atlantic’s retrospective on the nineties highlights the irony: a decade of economic boom for some was a slow-motion catastrophe for others.Worse still, globalization tied America to a web of dependencies that proved dangerous. When the pandemic hit, the nation found itself scrambling for masks, ventilators, and pharmaceuticals — all sourced from abroad, much of it from a China increasingly viewed as an adversary. Lighthizer, in an interview with CBS News, described it as an “existential threat” — a vulnerability that tariffs seek to address by bringing production home. A Politico article on Lighthizer’s groundwork for Trump’s next tariff push underscores that economic independence is not merely about jobs but about survival. A nation that cannot produce its own essentials is vulnerable to others — a lesson the elite of the 1990s never learned.Trump’s tariff policy is less a leap into the unknown and more a return to first principles. After all, tariffs have been the lifeblood of American economic policy for much of its history, funding the government and protecting emerging industries from foreign competition. During his first term, Trump imposed duties on steel and aluminum, leading some domestic mills to spring back to life — a small but tangible sign of what’s possible. Today, Lighthizer argues that these measures can prevent a broader economic crash by fostering a manufacturing renaissance. Critics, of course, cry foul — tariffs raise consumer prices, they argue, and risk trade wars. However, Lighthizer counters that foreign exporters often absorb the costs to remain competitive, and the long-term benefits —jobs, wages, resilience — far outweigh the short-term pain. ProPublica’s profile of Lighthizer underscores the stakes: he has “blown up sixty years of trade policy,” and what follows is anybody’s guess. Yet, the argument for tariffs is not only economic — it’s cultural, even moral. Globalization hasn’t just offshored jobs; it has eroded identities. The Brookings essay on the “globalization challenge” suggests this: as local economies were absorbed into a borderless market, communities lost their anchors. The uniformity of Walmart shelves replaced the pride of “Made in America.” The backlash — political, social, and visceral — has fueled Trump’s rise. He promises to improve the economy and restore a sense of national purpose. His policies, ranging from tariffs to tax cuts for domestic producers, aim to rebuild what globalization has dismantled.The dream of a borderless world in the 1990s was alluring, but it was built on shaky ground. It presumed that markets could address all problems, that sovereignty was outdated, and that the American worker could endlessly adjust to a system rigged against them. Trump, despite his bluster, recognizes this. His tariffs are a blunt tool, true, but they represent a reckoning — a rejection of the elite consensus that has left millions behind. Whether they succeed remains to be seen, but one thing is clear: globalization has failed, and Trump is betting that America can find its way back — not to isolation, but to strength — through the old, unglamorous tool of tariffs.