Donald Trump’s return to the U.S. presidency in 2025 has reignited his fiery rhetoric on international trade, with China once again bearing the brunt of his accusations.
Branding the U.S. as a victim of “the greatest theft in the history of the world,” Trump has consistently framed America’s trade deficit with China as an act of exploitation, even going so far as to use the incendiary term “rape” to describe the economic relationship. His solution? Tariffs—lots of them.
From his first term to his current one, Trump has wielded tariffs like a weapon, imposing them on allies and adversaries alike. In 2018, he slapped a 25% tariff on steel and a 10% duty on aluminum imports, citing the need to protect U.S. industries from “unfair competition.” China, accused of intellectual property theft and forced technology transfers, faced a barrage of tariffs on 250 billion worth of goods. 7.5 billion in tariffs imposed in 2019 as retaliation for subsidies to Airbus.
Now, barely weeks into his second term, Trump has already announced new tariffs on Canada and Mexico, declaring, “Tariffs are the most beautiful word in the dictionary because they’re going to make us rich as hell.” His mercantilist approach—prioritizing domestic industries over global cooperation—has drawn both praise and criticism. Supporters argue that tariffs protect American jobs, while detractors warn of retaliatory measures and economic blowback.
But beyond the economic debate lies a deeper irony: Trump’s portrayal of the U.S. as a victim of international trade is, at best, a gross oversimplification and, at worst, a blatant distortion of history. To understand why, one need only look at the historical record—particularly the role the U.S. and other Western nations have played in shaping the global economic order.
The Greatest Theft in History? Not So Fast
When Trump claims that China’s trade practices constitute “the greatest theft in history,” he conveniently ignores the actual contenders for that title. For centuries, the African continent was plundered for its human and natural resources, fueling the rise of Western economies. The transatlantic slave trade, which saw millions of Africans forcibly transported to the Americas, laid the foundation for the U.S.’s economic prosperity. Later, colonialism entrenched Africa’s role as a supplier of cheap raw materials, a dynamic that persists to this day.
Even in the 20th century, the U.S. emerged as a superpower not through victimhood but by capitalizing on global conflicts. During World War II, while Europe and Asia were devastated, the U.S. profited handsomely by supplying military and industrial goods. By the war’s end, it had cemented its position as the world’s leading economic and military power.
The post-war era saw the creation of a new international order, with the U.S. at its helm. Institutions like the World Trade Organization (WTO) were designed to regulate global trade, but they were shaped largely by Western interests. Africa, still grappling with the legacy of colonialism, had little say in crafting these rules. As a result, the continent remains disproportionately disadvantaged in the global economy, exporting raw materials while importing finished goods at higher costs.
Anansi in the Town Square: A Lesson in Hypocrisy
Trump’s trade rhetoric brings to mind the fabled trickster Kweku Anansi, who, despite being a perpetrator of harm, positions himself as the ultimate victim. Imagine a world where a scale measures human suffering, and the U.S. scores an 8% victimhood rating while Africa scores 98%. Yet, it is the U.S. that stands in the town square, lamenting its plight and demanding justice.
This hypocrisy is not lost on those who have borne the brunt of historical exploitation. For Africans, Trump’s cries of “cheating” and “rape” ring hollow, evoking painful memories of centuries of subjugation. But rather than simply pointing out this hypocrisy, there is a more constructive lesson to be learned: the importance of advocating for oneself on the global stage.
A Call to Action for Africa
Trump’s relentless pursuit of what he perceives as America’s interests serves as a stark reminder that Africa must do the same. For too long, the continent has been passive in the face of systemic inequities, accepting its role as a supplier of raw materials rather than demanding a fairer share of global wealth.
The African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA) represents a step in the right direction, creating a single market for goods and services across 54 countries. But more must be done. Africa must leverage its collective bargaining power to renegotiate trade agreements, demand reparations for historical injustices, and invest in value-added industries to break the cycle of dependency.
Trump’s presidency, for all its flaws, offers a valuable lesson: never accept victimhood as fate. Whether through tariffs or diplomacy, the U.S. has shown that self-advocacy yields results. Africa, with its vast resources and growing population, has the potential to reshape the global economic order—but only if it embraces the same tenacity.
So, as Trump mourns his 8% victimhood, let Africa mourn its 98%—and then demand justice with the ferocity it deserves. The time for fatalism is over. The time for action is now.
