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Our next election isn’t really about Trump. It’s about your grocery bill

In this election, the real question isn’t how Canada should deal with Donald Trump—it’s whether we’re ready to navigate a new food world order shaped by superpower rivalry, where access, affordability and sovereignty are all on the ballot
Unrecognizable woman checking a long supermarket receipt with grocery on foreground.
As Canada heads into a federal election, the ballot-box question won’t be how to deal with Donald Trump. It will be how to respond to an evolving global food order, writes Sylvain Charlebois.

What if the dismantling of the global economy isn’t a side effect—but the very point of Donald Trump’s agenda?

By undermining multilateral trade frameworks, imposing aggressive tariffs and sowing uncertainty across global supply chains, Trump is deliberately attempting to rewire the global economy around the United States. It’s a high-risk strategy, but one that could prove devastatingly effective at reasserting American economic dominance—while letting the rest of the world grapple with the fallout, including skyrocketing food prices and disrupted agricultural markets.

While many in the West view his actions as reckless, even irrational, there’s reason to believe that there’s a deliberate playbook behind this chaos.

Trump has long criticized trade liberalization and globalization. His views on tariffs aren’t new—they date back over three decades. And unlike many presidents who’ve built wealth via globally integrated industries, Trump cut his teeth in real estate and media—sectors largely insulated from international competition. That perspective shapes his disdain for multilateralism and his preference for bilateral economic muscle.

Markets have responded accordingly. Since his inauguration, U.S. indices like the S&P 500 and Nasdaq have posted notable corrections—driven by growing investor concern over persistent inflation, economic slowdowns, and the erratic direction of tariff policy. For the food sector, where margins are thin and supply chains complex, this environment has already increased input costs and weakened trade fluidity.

But beyond the noise, Trump appears to be pursuing a form of neo-mercantilism. His economic worldview echoes a pre-WWI model, where tariffs—not income tax—funded governments. He rejects the post-war consensus: a multilateral order shaped by institutions like the WTO, IMF and World Bank, designed to foster global economic interdependence and stabilize food flows and commodity markets.

Instead, he envisions a new economic order centered solely on American leverage. His nostalgic vision of an “American Golden Age” involves reduced reliance on trade, reindustrialization, and a consumer-driven economy detached from international obligations.

In this light, what appears like a self-sabotaging trade strategy could in fact be designed to compress global demand, suppress U.S. interest rates, and re-ignite American middle-class consumption—exporting inflation and volatility abroad, particularly into emerging markets and food-importing nations.

The implications are profound. If global agri-food flows are destabilized in favour of U.S. self-sufficiency, nations like Canada—highly integrated into American supply chains—become uniquely vulnerable. A weakened American dollar might soften some food prices at home, but the overall macroeconomic shock would be severe.

In such a scenario, Canada's agri-food sector would need to pivot fast: dismantle protectionist barriers, pursue new trade partnerships, and invest heavily in domestic food resilience and value-added processing. But more fundamentally, Canada would need to recalibrate its agri-food geopolitical posture.

READ: From tallboys to houses, latest aluminum and steel tariffs driving up costs

Ottawa’s recent hesitations—such as protecting an underdeveloped battery sector at the cost of agricultural diplomacy—signal a worrying misalignment. While others assess Trump’s return pragmatically, Canada risks being caught flat-footed, trapped in ideological bias rather than strategic foresight.

Trump’s antagonism toward China only complicates things further. His narrative frames the pandemic not as a global tragedy, but as a geopolitical affront from a communist regime to capitalist hegemony. In that sense, his economic retaliation—through tariffs, reshoring, and deglobalization—may be viewed as a reassertion of U.S. supremacy. 

If true, the consequences are not abstract. They will be felt at ports, in grain terminals, and in grocery aisles.

And as Canada heads into a federal election, the ballot-box question won’t be how to deal with Donald Trump. It will be how to respond to an evolving global food order—one increasingly shaped by two superpowers: the United States and China. This new agri-food world is not only real, it’s shifting by the day. And those who fail to adapt may find themselves not just behind—but left out entirely.

Let’s hope that recognition comes soon.

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