In just his second week back in office, President Donald Trump has already developed a predictable pattern: make a big, blustery threat, spark panic, and then retreat at the last moment—claiming victory regardless of what was actually gained. This week, the pattern played out twice, as both Mexico and Canada faced looming trade wars from Trump’s White House—only to outmaneuver the president without offering any meaningful concessions.
On Sunday, markets began to spiral amid Trump’s escalating threats of tariffs on Mexican goods. Economists warned of grocery price surges, with one popular narrative focusing on avocados just in time for the Super Bowl. As the Dow Jones tanked Monday morning—a metric Trump has long considered a barometer of his own success—he quietly blinked.
By mid-morning, Trump was on the phone with Mexican President Claudia Sheinbaum. Hours later, Sheinbaum announced an agreement had been reached: Mexico would deploy 10,000 National Guard troops to stem the flow of fentanyl and illegal migrants, and in return, the U.S. would postpone its tariffs for 30 days. Trump took to Truth Social, hailing it as a win—conveniently omitting the fact that the U.S. also promised to crack down on weapons trafficking into Mexico.
But here’s the kicker: Mexico didn’t offer anything new. According to reports from its own defense ministry, Mexico already had nearly 15,000 troops deployed to the border as of 2019. The same 10,000 figure was promised again in 2021 under a deal with President Biden. Whether those troops ever stayed in place remains unclear—but what is clear is that Trump accepted a third iteration of a recycled promise to avoid the political fallout of a costly trade war.
If this all seems familiar, it’s because it is. Trump employed the exact same tactics in 2019, threatening tariffs, watching markets tumble, and then backing down after Mexico pledged to do something it had already done. President Sheinbaum, well aware of Trump’s fragility, called his bluff—delivering empty optics while safeguarding her country’s economy.
Later the same day, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau of Canada pulled a similar move.
Facing Trump’s tariff threats and growing public anger—Canadians even booed the U.S. national anthem at sporting events—Trudeau stayed firm. Instead of capitulating to new demands, he simply re-announced a $1.3 billion border security plan his government had already unveiled months earlier, back in December during the Biden administration.
Trudeau then added a few symbolic gestures to sweeten the pot: the appointment of a “Fentanyl Czar,” enhanced intelligence cooperation, and the launch of a U.S.-Canada joint strike force targeting organized crime. Yet Canada’s contribution to fentanyl trafficking into the U.S. remains negligible—just 0.2% of all fentanyl seizures come from the northern border, according to Customs and Border Protection.
Trump nevertheless declared victory. Conservative media outlets tried to frame both outcomes as capitulations to Trump’s tough negotiating, but even Fox News’s Laura Ingraham cast doubt on the value of the deals, calling Canada’s response “not too impressive” and questioning the substance of the supposed wins.
What actually happened is clear: Trump made a threat he couldn’t afford to follow through on, faced real political and economic consequences, and then settled for theatrics. Both Sheinbaum and Trudeau gave him off-ramps—face-saving gestures he could tout to his base—without actually conceding anything significant. In return, they protected their own nations from the fallout of Trump’s economic nationalism.
This is the fourth time in just two weeks that Trump’s administration has issued a sweeping threat only to backtrack under pressure. From threatening disaster relief funding for California, to issuing (and then retracting) a government-wide freeze on federal aid, the pattern is undeniable: bluster, backlash, then quiet surrender.
Yet Trump’s reliance on spectacle over substance continues to have real-world consequences. In California, his release of billions of gallons of water from reservoirs—done purely for a photo op—now risks future drought conditions for farmers. His attempt to freeze federal aid triggered lawsuits and judicial rebukes, with courts calling the White House’s retraction “a thinly veiled attempt” to skirt legal accountability.
What this week demonstrated, perhaps more clearly than ever before, is that Trump is no master negotiator. His threats ring hollow. His adversaries have learned the game: wait him out, give him a symbolic win, and let the media spin it for him. It’s political performance art masquerading as governance.
And if world leaders can beat him at his own game, what’s stopping domestic opposition from doing the same?
