Hours before a fresh barrage of US tariffs on Chinese goods was set to take effect, US President Donald Trump signed an executive order granting another 90-day reprieve.

To anyone who has followed the Trump administration’s approach to economic brinkmanship, the choreography felt familiar: drive the confrontation to the cliff’s edge, let markets hold their breath, then step back — but only just far enough to claim victory. The goal is not genuine de-escalation, but to extract concessions at minimal political cost, preserve the illusion of domestic economic stability, and reinforce the narrative that America plays by its own rules.

This is tariff diplomacy as political theater. Since April, Trump has revived his so-called “reciprocal tariff” policy, threatening stratospheric duties on countries accused of having “unfair” trade practices. The tariff numbers are chosen for shock value, designed less to be implemented than to be bargained down. For the European Union, “compromise” came in the form of a promise to buy $750 billion in US natural gas over three years, plus $600 billion in investment, in exchange for a reduced tariff rate. Japan bought relief with $550 billion in investment.

China, however, is a harder target. The country has been busy rewiring its trade dependencies. The United States is no longer its largest trading partner; the Association of Southeast Asian Nations has taken that spot. Beijing has leaned into the Belt and Road Initiative, regional agreements, and diversification of supply chains. Its export mix has shifted, reducing Washington’s leverage. Even the agricultural commodities once used as pressure points — soybeans above all — have been diversified toward South American suppliers.

Trump’s latest plea for Beijing to quadruple purchases of US soybeans says less about agricultural diplomacy than it does about election-year politics. American farmers, a crucial bloc in his reelection calculus, are eager for stability. But China’s demand for soybeans, while massive — nearly 110 million metric tons this year — is not beholden to any single supplier. In fact, Brazilian soybeans now make up more than 70 percent of China’s imports, with the US trailing far behind.

The structural tension is larger than soybeans or semiconductors. The US political class, across parties, has embraced the idea of China as a “systemic rival”. This is the new orthodoxy: Tariffs and export controls are not temporary bargaining chips but long-term features of the relationship. In America, anti-China rhetoric sells; in China, the economic system has proved to be resilient enough to absorb the pressure.

Look at the numbers. In the first half of this year, China’s foreign trade grew nearly 3 percent year-on-year, with the second quarter accelerating to 5.2 percent economic growth, despite a plunge in trade with the US. The number of Chinese companies with import-export activity has hit a record high, and high-tech exports have risen for nine consecutive months. This is not an economy brought to its knees — it’s one recalibrating for a world where the US market is just one of many.

Which is why the latest 90-day “pause” is an acknowledgment of three unyielding realities.

First, economics: Global supply chains are too interconnected to be severed without collateral damage. Break one node and you bleed across the system.

Second, politics: Unilateralism breeds multilateral pushback. The multiple WTO complaints against US tariff policy are only the beginning.

Third, history: From the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act of 1930, which helped deepen the Great Depression, to today’s inflation squeeze on American households, beggar-thy-neighbor policies eventually come home to roost.

The official line from Washington is that China is “taking significant steps” to address US concerns, hence the extension. Beijing’s statement was cooler: Tariffs on some US goods would be suspended but a baseline 10 percent “border tax” remains. Both sides have kept “weapons” in reserve.

In the long run, as “America First” curdles into “America Alone”, the laws of economics, politics and history will prove less forgiving than any negotiating partner across the table

What is striking this time is the side-deal chatter. The Financial Times reports that Washington may ease some semiconductor export restrictions, allowing Nvidia and AMD to sell advanced AI chips to China — with the unusual stipulation that 15 percent of sales revenue be handed over to the US government. Even so, the underlying 30 percent tariff on Chinese goods, imposed at the start of Trump’s second term, remains in place. Economists warn that such rates will continue to fuel inflation and dampen growth.

And then there’s the gold twist. Days after a leaked customs memo suggested tariffs on bullion were coming, Trump announced there would be no such move. Gold futures promptly dropped 2.5 percent. Whether it was economic sense or political optics driving the reversal is anyone’s guess.

For all the bluster, market reaction to the extension was muted. Wall Street’s major indices closed slightly down on the day, with investors more interested in upcoming inflation data than in the latest tariff truce. After all, this isn’t the first “pause” in the tariff war. It probably won’t be the last.

For Hong Kong, the truce offers only a thin buffer. As a re-export hub, the city’s trade flows remain tightly intertwined with both mainland supply chains and American demand. Even when tariffs target “mainland goods”, the logistical and financial arteries run through Hong Kong’s port, dollar-clearing system, and trading firms. A prolonged standoff means higher costs for shippers, tighter margins for traders, and greater volatility for the city’s stock market — particularly in sectors like electronics, apparel, and toys that feed directly into the US retail cycle. Hong Kong’s role as an intermediary doesn’t shield it; it exposes it.

The deeper truth is that US-China trade relations have entered a state of managed hostility. Both economies benefit from the current global framework, but Washington sees China’s rise as a direct threat to its primacy — the classic “Thucydides Trap” logic. Beijing, for its part, has no illusions about US intentions. It’s building alternative trade corridors, investing in self-reliance in critical technologies, and preparing for a future in which strategic competition persists.

A deal may be reached before the November deadline. But a feel-good agreement may be hard to come by.

In the long run, as “America First” curdles into “America Alone”, the laws of economics, politics and history will prove less forgiving than any negotiating partner across the table.

The author is chairman of the Asia MarTech Society and sits on the advisory boards of several professional organizations, including two universities.

The views do not necessarily reflect those of China Daily.