Trump's trade policy fades; tariffs come up short

 

Gordon L. Weil

American exports should be greater than American imports worldwide and for every country.  That’s the essence of President Trump’s tariff policy. 

To the extent that any country has a positive trade balance with the U.S., it is “robbing” the U.S.  To fix the imbalance, the U.S. now imposes tariffs or threatens to use them on imports to make them so expensive that American producers, with higher costs, can compete.

Even taking this policy at its face value, it is a failure.

Trump has squeezed other countries to force them to the negotiating table where they should make concessions to get him to back off the tariffs.  The signs are that he will achieve a lot less than he set out to get.  And neither side may be better off.

Two talks last week revealed that his policy was not working.  Meeting with Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney, Trump said that the U.S. did not need his country’s exports, asserting that America could be self-sufficient.  Carney, an experienced negotiator, avoided debating the point, but merely noted that Canada is the biggest customer in the world for U.S. exports.

Trump is so focused on the trade balance in goods that he ignored exports and the favorable U.S. balance in services or his country’s reliance on Canadian oil, uranium and other essential goods. He failed to recognize that many products, like automobiles, are truly international, making it impossible to label them as coming from a single source.

After Trump again grandstanded about his desire to make Canada the 51st state and Carney’s understandable rejection, the two sides retired to begin closed, substantive talks going beyond scoring on one another.  In effect, Trump recognized that he needs a deal, which Carney already knew.

The second event was the announcement of a trade deal with the U.K.  Ever since Brexit, the Brits have sought a comprehensive trade arrangement, possibly a free trade deal, with the U.S., to compensate somewhat for losing Europe.  But the U.S. has had a favorable trade balance with Britain, giving it no reason to make a major deal.

That changed.  Trump needed an early trade deal to justify his tariff policy.  British Prime Minister Keir Starmer needed an accord to show the U.K. still has a special relationship with the U.S., and that the Labour Party could bring home a trade deal responding to some of Britain’s hopes.  Both leaders congratulated themselves on making a long sought after deal.

That may have been good politics for each of them, but it wasn’t true.  The deal removed some of the trade measures that Trump had applied to the U.K. without justification, but the Financial Times, a leading British newspaper, noted that it still left the U.K. worse off than it had been before Trump returned to office.

A deal with China really could matter, and both sides need it.  Trump looked anxious in claiming prematurely that talks with Beijing were under way, when at best contacts took place about starting talks.  At last, they have begun.  With China, the president’s tariff policy might produce results, though whether China keeps its promises would remain in doubt.

Overall, the Trump tariff policy is failing.  Originally focused solely on imports of goods, the policy missed the effects on domestic prices, access to essential imports, American exports as other countries retaliated, and the trade-stopping effects of astronomic tariff rates.  He now seems to begin to understand the implications of his one-note trade policy.

But his performance in talks with Carney and Starmer suggests he can’t adjust his demands.  Better qualified negotiators try to save the appearance of his claims, while making realistic arrangements.  One result is that the British deal is not a comprehensive pact, but simply covers specific items, with many details left to be completed.

Not only is his high tariff policy fading into face-saving pacts limited to a few products, but Trump himself seems to be fading.  What should have been said about Joe Biden as his term wore on, seems to be increasingly true for Trump. He restates broad themes, but lacks the energy or grasp of details to go further.  He leaves that to others.

When asked what the Declaration of Independence, posted on his office wall meant to him, he said it was a declaration about “unity and love” when it was about rebellion and anger.  When describing the U.K. trade deal, he read from prepared written remarks, possibly for the first time, showing no sign of understanding the deal.

He continues to ring the chimes for his key policies: mass deportation of illegal immigrants, stopping other countries from “robbing” the U.S., and slashing the federal government.  The question arises if he is capable of making these policies work as they face growing opposition.

 

 

Does Trump support the Constitution?

Gordon L. Weil

About 240 years ago, two major documents were committed to print.  Both were landmarks and both have been the object of interpretation and evolution.  

One is the U.S. Constitution. The other is Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21, a major classical work.  A recent New York Times commentary offered a compelling analysis of what they have in common.

Both must be taken literally: read the words, play the notes.  But much has changed since they were written.  Tastes have changed, the halls of Congress and concert halls have changed, and, above all, American presidents and orchestra conductors have changed.   Within the limits of what was written, there’s room for different interpretations and styles.

The Civil War, the Great Depression, World War II, the Vietnam War, and Supreme Court rulings have all affected the terms and underlying assumptions of the Constitution.  The relative balance of powers between the state and federal governments and between the president and Congress have evolved.

The original drafters understood that the future interpretations of the Constitution inevitably would have to recognize the effects of changes that they could not envisage.  For them, the essence must be preserved: protecting people from the government as provided in the Bill of Rights, the balance of power and individual liberty.

Originalists, like Justice Clarence Thomas, believe that the terms of the Constitution must be interpreted as they were understood when it was written. They assume that the Framers’ thinking embodied almost godlike wisdom that could endure and could apply unchanged to any later turns of history.

An alternate view, probably held by the Framers themselves, would be that the principles were permanent, but just as the world evolved, so would the “living Constitution.”  The challenge for courts would not only be to recognize change, but how the Framers’ views would have evolved on how it should be applied in the new world.

In interpreting Mozart’s concerto, to play it loud or soft, fast or slow is the conductor’s job.  In American government, the job is shared by the three branches of the government.  Increasingly, however, the president has become the conductor of the music of the Constitution.  But, even if a president may alter the tempo and emphasis, they cannot change the tune.

When a person assumes the presidency, the Constitution prescribes the exact commitment they are taking – to “preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”  The Constitution requires every office holder down to the local elected official to make the same commitment.  It is an American loyalty oath for those exercising the public trust.

This commitment is necessary, because “absolute power corrupts.”   To avoid the public trust expresed in elections becoming the path to authoritarian rule, as happened in Germany in 1933, the commitment both reminds the new officeholder that they are bound by a written code and requires them to publicly acknowledge their acceptance.

When asked if he supported the Constitution, President Trump, a man who proclaims his own unusually good memory, forgot the commitment he undertook only 100 days earlier.  “I don’t know,” he said.  Really?  Or was he merely trying to give himself enough scope to be able the change the constitutional tune.

He finds one key requirement cannot be observed in pursuing his policy of mass deportation of illegal immigrants.  All persons, not only citizens, have the right to due process of law before the government takes action against them.  That means they must be able to answer the government’s charge and have the complaint and their defense judged by a neutral party.

Trump says that providing due process to the millions he wants to eject would be impossible.  He wants the Constitution to give absolute power to him, because he won a presidential election.  If due process for millions is impossible, then Trump’s policy, not the Constitution, must give way.  That’s the meaning of the obligation to protect and defend the founding document.

He counts on his electoral majority to carry the great weight.  Behind this view may be the “two-tier theory” of the law.  As the law applies to ordinary life, in matters from divorce to crime to contracts, nothing changes.  Most people see no change in their lives and will accept the other tier that gives the president powers unchecked by law.

Ultimately, the issue is likely to be determined by the Supreme Court, perhaps within a couple of months.  Trump claims the automatic right to citizenship at birth in the U.S., found in the Fourteenth Amendment, has limits, allowing mass deportation of “birthright” citizens.  In 1898, the Supreme Court said the right was unconditional.  The text and legislative history were clear.

If the Court ends up agreeing with Trump’s new interpretation, the Constitution would no longer protect people from the government of the day.   The music would end. 

Is America 'a house divided against itself'?

 

Gordon L. Weil

The other day, as I was leaving Lowe’s, a store that offers a veteran’s discount that I use, the checkout person called after me, “I love my veterans.”

She didn’t know if I was a Republican or Democrat or where I stood in the great political divide. I simply belong to a group of people who had given up some time and effort to their country. That group of people have a sense of belonging.  It’s real; fellow veterans share it.

A recent essay in the New York Times focuses on belonging as one of the essential benefits of religious affiliation.  The author states: “People need to be in strong communities to flourish, defined as being in a state where all aspects of their lives are good.” 

Another essay, this time in the Washington Post, pays tribute to the practice of ICE personnel saying, “Welcome home,” to citizens returning from travel abroad.  That welcome extends to anybody with a U.S. passport, regardless of their political affiliation or membership in any ethnic group.  The author found no other country where people get that greeting.

The author writes that this greeting is about “what makes America distinctive in the first place.

“America is the rare nation that is built on an idea rather than blood or soil. Our belonging, as Americans, isn’t predetermined by ancestry but secured through a commitment to certain universal principles — freedom, equality and the radical notion that citizens create their own government rather than the other way around.”

The sense of belonging matters to most, if not all, people.

And what matters about belonging is its emphasis on what people share, no matter how much they may differ on issues, even important issues.  Differences, which are inevitable, should not be allowed to go so far that they destroy the common sense of belonging.

But sometimes they do.  Some people use their power, a feature of life that is inevitably temporary, to force others to adhere to their views and demands.  They would simply override that common sense of belonging.

The alternative is not simply to let each person pursue their own beliefs and values.  To libertarians, that may seem to be all right so long as you don’t tread on someone else’s values. Increasingly, people try to impose their personal beliefs on others.  In the end, everybody lives in the same house, so nobody should be allowed to go so far as to destroy the house.  

The problem in modern American politics is the attempt of any one group to dominate. It is embodied in the famous football quote, mistakenly attributed to Vince Lombardi: “Winning isn’t everything; it’s the only thing.”

Winning is neither everything nor the only thing.  Not for everybody.

With his prompt acceptance of a Supreme Court decision that he did not win the presidency in 2000, Al Gore placed his belonging to the country ahead of himself.  With his dogged refusal to accept that he did not win the presidency in 2020, Donald Trump placed himself ahead of belonging to the country.

This column may sound like a sermon, but it’s meant as a political observation.  If we continue to act as if implacable divisiveness is inevitable, allowing it to prevent compromise and to overwhelm our common sense of belonging, the U.S. again becomes, as Lincoln saw it, “a house divided against itself.”  He warned that such a house “cannot stand.”