When Donald Trump returned to the White House in January 2025, the world braced for disruption. For those watching U.S.–China relations, however, what followed was less a rupture than an intensification. Trump 2.0 has not reinvented American policy toward China, it has doubled down on it.

The truth is, since 2017, Washington’s economic strategy toward Beijing has been on a fairly consistent path. Trump’s first term introduced aggressive tariffs, export controls, and investment restrictions aimed at curbing China’s technological and industrial rise. President Joe Biden continued those policies with a softer tone but equal strategic conviction. Now, Trump’s second term amplifies the same approach with sharper rhetoric, broader tariffs, and a near-abandonment of diplomatic subtlety.

Trump 2.0 has not reinvented American policy toward China, it has doubled down on it.

Some may see Trump’s economic hostility as erratic or uniquely reckless. But in reality, it reflects a bipartisan recalibration of how America engages with China. Both Republicans and Democrats increasingly view Beijing not as a partner but as a competitor, if not a threat. The difference lies in execution. Trump’s toolkit is blunter, more immediate, and more visible.

Take the “Liberation Day” tariffs: a universal 10% tariff on all imports, coupled with specific surcharges, bringing the total duty on Chinese goods to 54%, and in some cases spiking to 145%. This was not a policy born of nuanced economic modeling; it was a political move aimed at reshaping global trade through raw leverage. It triggered predictable chaos, market volatility, inflation fears, and retaliatory measures from China. But it also forced negotiations. Within months, Trump secured a 90-day truce that partially rolled back tariffs. This underscores his administration’s core belief: pressure yields power.

Another example is technology decoupling. While Biden pursued a “small yard, high fence” strategy, targeting a narrow band of sensitive technologies, Trump has opted for a much wider fence. Over 50 Chinese tech companies were recently blacklisted, and semiconductor tariffs are now back on the table. His administration is also pressuring companies like Nvidia and Apple to relocate manufacturing to the U.S. The rhetoric is clear: America must never again be “held hostage” by foreign supply chains.

“Pressure yields power” is the Trump administration’s guiding philosophy on trade with China.

Is this approach sustainable? Economically, probably not in the long term. Tariff wars raise prices, disrupt global commerce, and can backfire on domestic industries. Politically, though, Trump’s message resonates. In an era of deglobalization, economic nationalism sells. Supply-chain resilience is now bipartisan gospel. And with ongoing concerns about China’s military ambitions, many Americans accept short-term economic pain for perceived long-term security.

Where Trump 2.0 diverges most clearly from Biden is in diplomatic style. Biden sought to coordinate with allies, reviving the Quad, launching the Indo-Pacific Economic Framework, and quietly aligning European partners on tech restrictions. Trump, in contrast, has no patience for multilateralism. His “America First” lens treats every negotiation as a transaction, even with allies. That’s why Japan and the EU were hit with new auto tariffs alongside China. To Trump, loyalty is not assumed; it’s earned through concessions.

Yet for all the drama, Trump’s policy does not represent radical change. It is more accurately described as strategic continuity with tactical escalation. The core idea, reducing U.S. dependence on China in strategic sectors, is now a settled consensus in Washington. Trump has merely stripped it of diplomatic varnish.

Trump’s policy does not represent radical change, it is strategic continuity with tactical escalation.

Critics warn that this trajectory risks isolating the U.S. and undermining global trade systems. That may be true. But defenders argue that previous models of globalization empowered authoritarian competitors at the expense of American workers. In their view, Trump’s approach, though crude, corrects that imbalance.

As someone observing this landscape, I believe we are witnessing a structural shift, not a personality-driven blip. Trump 2.0’s confrontational stance may feel unique, but its core logic is already embedded in U.S. policy circles. Even a future Democratic administration would find it difficult to reverse course entirely.

The challenge, then, is to balance necessary strategic caution with economic pragmatism. Full decoupling from China is neither practical nor desirable—our technologies, markets, and supply chains are too intertwined. But targeted disengagement in areas like AI, quantum computing, and rare-earth minerals is both feasible and increasingly bipartisan.

Full decoupling from China is neither practical nor desirable, but targeted disengagement is increasingly bipartisan.

Trump’s second term should be seen as a stress test of America’s decoupling ambitions. If tariffs spiral into inflation or tech bans slow innovation, a course correction may come. But if reshoring succeeds and allies follow suit, we may look back on 2025 not as a reckless gamble, but as the year Washington’s China strategy matured into a permanent pillar of U.S. foreign policy.

Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author. They do not represent the views, beliefs, or policies of the Stratheia.