Trump’s tariffs ignite global trade wars, spook markets, and send investors scrambling. When protectionism quakes, who picks up the pieces?
By Phynix
Phynix is a seasoned journalist who revels in playful, unconventional narration, blending quirky storytelling with measured, precise editing. Her work embodies a dual mastery of creative flair and steadfast rigor.
April 5, 2025 at 1:02 PM IST
Dear Insighter,
Picture this scene: Hachimonjiya, a hole-in-the-wall bar in Kyoto, tucked into a building so unassuming you’d miss it if you blinked. The owner, Kai Fusayoshi, isn’t your typical bartender. He’s a photographer who’s chronicled Kyoto’s soul since the 1970s—think weathered hands, a smile that speaks volumes in broken English, and walls plastered with his black-and-white prints. His bar? A glorious organised mess. Photobooks spill off shelves like waterfalls. Vinyl records—jazz, folk, avant-garde, and Lata Mangeshkar’s classic hits—lean haphazardly against a turntable manned by his friend Shinji Ishii, a published novelist with a DJ’s ear. Shinji’s English is not as fragmented as Kai’s, and his playlist? Flawless.
We stumbled into this den of chaos by accident, hunting for a jazz bar upstairs. Instead, we found Hachimonjiya: strangers huddled over sake, swapping stories in a Babel of languages, while Shinji spun records like an alchemist mixing soundtracks for serendipity. Kai, ever the host, slid us glasses of warm sake he swears by. No menus, no pretence—just the hum of humanity thriving in beautiful disarray.
Life, it turns out, is a lot like Kai’s bar. You walk in with a plan, and the universe hands you a metaphor. Take Donald Trump’s tariff crusade, which TK Arun diagnoses as a mercantilist fever dream—a “bee in his bonnet” resurrecting 18th-century economics. Apparently, the president skipped the comparative advantage chapter in Economics 101, probably distracted by drawing dollar signs in his textbook margins.
Pramit Pal Chaudhuri puts it even more bluntly in his interview, saying Trump "loves tariffs because he doesn't understand how they work"—which seems to be a recurring theme with things Trump loves. He believes American consumers won't pay for these tariffs, which is like believing calories don't count if you eat standing up.
Trump is spinning a discordant track: 26% tariffs on India, 37% effective rates when you factor in the dirigiste dollar’s stumble, as R. Gurumurthy argues. The RBI alumni’s analysis of the weakening dollar suggests we're witnessing the political economy at work, where "politics comes first" and economic policies trail behind. The goal? MAWA—Make Americans Wealthy Again. The reality? A global recession looming like a skipped beat.
The scale of this shift has Dhananjay Sinha comparing current tariff levels to those last seen when horses were still a popular transportation option. Markets are caught between recession fears and hopes that bilateral deals might temper Trump's bluster—which is like hoping a tsunami might respect property lines. The likely outcome? Nifty 50 earnings growing at the pace of a particularly unmotivated sloth. Investors might want to hug their gold bars extra tight tonight.
But here’s the twist: chaos breeds opportunity. Ajay Srivastava spots a glimmer in the rubble. While China faces 34% tariff on top of existing duties, Vietnam tops the chart with 46%, and Bangladesh with 37%, India’s 26% looks almost reasonable—like finding a pristine Coltrane LP in a chaotic dive bar’s clutter. Pharma and chips escape unscathed, but logistics bottlenecks? India could actually benefit from the supply chain reshuffle—if policymakers can improve business conditions and cut red tape.
However, Abheek Barua is warning against complacency. The apparent tariff "advantage" over competitors is about as comforting as being told you have the least aggressive form of a terrible disease. Our anti-dumping mechanisms will need to work overtime—assuming they work at all—to prevent becoming the shopping mall for everyone else's discounted goods. As this BasisPoint Groupthink notes, India is the only major economy, besides China, to face a penalty of this magnitude.
The economic impact is already being quantified by QuantEco Research as it revised India's GDP growth estimate down by 30 basis points to 6.4%, and trimmed its inflation forecast by 20 basis points to 4.1%—adjustments that sound tiny until you realise they represent billions in lost prosperity. India's export earnings could fall by $10-15 billion, which is economist-speak for "ouch."
Yet, India's official response has been so restrained it's practically comatose. While Trump explicitly called India "very very tough" (his version of a compliment?), the Indian government responded with a bland press note. As our Groupthink column notes, "There is virtue in restraint—but too much of it, at the wrong time, can look like drift." Or, in layman's terms: standing still during a hurricane doesn't make you look zen, it makes you look concussed.
Meanwhile, Mark Blyth reframes tariffs as a bipartisan dismantling of dollar dominance—a crypto-tab future where meme coins replace greenbacks. US political parties have abandoned free trade due to concerns about "the global role of the dollar in promoting structural trade imbalances."
As Trump’s trade war hijacks headlines, the earth itself is queuing up its own chaos. Myanmar’s 7.7-magnitude earthquake killed thousands, turning homes into rubble and junta diplomacy into ash. Recovery here isn’t about tariffs—it’s bare hands and broken hearts. And Japan’s Mount Fuji, simmering like a forgotten kettle, threatens billions in damage and ash-darkened skies. Which brings us to Japan’s “megaquake” warning: 300,000 deaths forecasted, no timeline. It’s the ultimate Hachimonjiya lesson—control is illusion. You don’t choose the track; you dance to it. Prepare for chaos, but keep the sake flowing.
So let’s end where we began: in Kai’s bar, where chaos is the house special. In a world determined to shake itself apart—whether through volcanic eruptions, seismic shifts, or Trump’s trade policies—sometimes the best strategy is to embrace the wrong turn.
Until next week, may your tariffs be low and your disaster preparations be utterly unnecessary.
Yours in scheduled chaos.
Phynix
P.S. If you’re ever in Kyoto, skip the guidebooks. Follow the smell of vinyl and warm rice wine. The best stories start with, wait—this wasn’t on the itinerary.