Trump impõe tarifas de 25% contra México e Canadá; China enfrenta aumento de 20%

Donald Trump closed the door on negotiation Monday morning. When asked whether Mexico and Canada might delay the tariffs set to take effect the following day, he was blunt: there was no room for discussion. The 25 percent levies on both neighbors would proceed as scheduled. Hours later, the White House announced he had also signed an order doubling tariffs on China to 20 percent, effective just after midnight Washington time. The administration cited Beijing's failure to adequately stem the flow of illicit fentanyl into the United States.

The tariffs represent the most sweeping trade action of Trump's presidency, touching roughly $1.5 trillion in annual imports. All goods from Canada and Mexico face the 25 percent rate, with a single exception: Canadian energy products carry a 10 percent tariff instead. The move was framed as punishment for what Trump described as exploitation—countries, he said, that had stolen American money, jobs, factories, and businesses would now face consequences. "Tariffs are easy, quick, efficient and bring justice," he told reporters.

Markets absorbed the news poorly. The Dow Jones Industrial Average and S&P 500 both fell roughly 2 percent on the day. The Canadian dollar and Mexican peso weakened as traders processed the reality that Trump's long-standing threats were no longer hypothetical. A private survey released the same day showed American industrial activity in February had slowed to near stagnation, with new orders and employment both contracting. The price of materials paid by manufacturers hit its highest level since June 2022. The uncertainty itself was becoming an economic drag.

Canada and Mexico had prepared contingencies. The Canadian government announced plans to impose retaliatory tariffs on $20.6 billion worth of American exports—orange juice, peanut butter, wine, coffee, automobiles, trucks, steel, and aluminum products—with additional levies on another $86.4 billion in goods to follow three weeks later. Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum said her government would wait to see Trump's final decision before responding, though she had been considering her own tariffs on Chinese goods as a way to demonstrate cooperation on trade enforcement. Mexico had already shown willingness to work with Washington on security matters: on Thursday, Mexican authorities had handed over 29 people accused of drug trafficking and other crimes to face charges in the United States, a gesture officials hoped might buy time before the tariffs took effect.

The tariff architecture Trump is building extends far beyond these initial measures. Steel and aluminum face an additional 25 percent levy scheduled for March 12. Investigations into automobiles, semiconductors, and pharmaceuticals could yield sector-specific tariffs by April 2. Another investigation into lumber imports—clearly aimed at Canada—is underway. Most significantly, Trump plans to implement "reciprocal tariffs" by April 1, a country-by-country system based on calculations of other nations' tariff rates, trade barriers, and tax regimes. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent suggested these could be adjusted upward or removed entirely if trading partners agreed to correct what the administration views as unfair trade practices.

China signaled it would retaliate against American agricultural and food products, according to the Global Times, a state-aligned publication often used to signal Beijing's positions internationally. China also accused the United States of violating World Trade Organization rules and suggested America focus instead on reducing domestic demand for drugs and strengthening law enforcement against fentanyl use at home. The irony was not lost: only 31.8 kilograms of fentanyl had been seized at the northern U.S. border since October 2021, a figure that raised questions about what more Canada could realistically offer to avert a trade war.

The broader economic picture darkened as the tariffs took hold. Consumer confidence had fallen sharply. Stock markets and cryptocurrencies had retreated from recent highs. Inflation remained stubbornly elevated. A new tariff war threatened to reignite price pressures, disrupt North American supply chains—particularly in automobiles—and invite legal challenges under the continental free trade agreement Trump himself had renegotiated during his first term. Josh Lipsky, senior director of the Atlantic Council's GeoEconomics Center, captured the moment plainly: "We are on the brink of a North American trade war. Markets have woken up to the fact that Trump takes tariffs seriously." What had once seemed like negotiating theater had become policy, and the consequences were already rippling outward.