The Daily Fuckup

Donald Trump’s new term got one of its first real tests on January 27, 2025, and the episode offered a blunt look at how his White House seems prepared to answer resistance: escalate quickly, threaten a bigger blowback, and then declare victory once the other side appears to bend. The immediate fight centered on deportation flights to Colombia, but it did not stay confined to immigration for long. Instead, the administration turned a disagreement over removals into a broader economic confrontation, warning of tariffs and other penalties unless Bogotá agreed to accept deportees. That move was not just a procedural flex; it was a public demonstration of how the administration intends to use leverage. If a foreign government complicates a U.S. immigration action, the reply from Washington can now become trade punishment, sanctions pressure, or whatever other threat seems most likely to force a quick reversal. By day’s end, the White House was signaling that Colombia had relented, but the larger message was harder to clean up: a routine enforcement dispute had been turned into a test case for governing by threat.

That tactic may appeal to supporters who like the image of a president who never backs down, but it comes with real costs when the weapon of choice is a tariff. Tariffs are not symbolic props, and they do not stay neatly contained within the borders of the country being targeted. They can hit importers, shippers, American companies, and consumers who had no role in the original dispute, while also creating uncertainty that spreads far beyond the specific confrontation. Once the White House shows that it is willing to throw tariff threats into a diplomatic disagreement on short notice, every trading partner has reason to wonder whether it could be next. That uncertainty matters because it changes how allies, rivals, and businesses plan, invest, and negotiate. It also raises the question of whether the administration is making policy through a stable framework or simply through flashes of coercion. In the Colombia case, the threat itself appeared to be the point, with the explanation left to catch up afterward. That can produce a burst of attention and a temporary sense of leverage, but it also teaches everyone involved that U.S. policy may shift from negotiation to retaliation in a matter of hours.

The speed with which officials moved from escalation to a victory claim only sharpened the impression that this was less carefully calibrated strategy than improvised pressure. If the first response to resistance is to reach for economic punishment, the obvious question is what happens when the next dispute involves a country with deeper trade ties or more strategic weight. Colombia was significant precisely because it was not the kind of crisis that would normally justify a tariff broadside with immediate spillover risk. Yet that is what the White House chose to do, suggesting that tariffs are becoming something like a universal remote control for foreign policy: one button, many intended effects, and not much evidence that anyone is thinking through the wiring behind the screen. Critics did not need to invent a complicated attack line, because the episode supplied it on its own. It looked less like disciplined statecraft than tariff cosplay, with the economy used as a prop to generate a fast headline and a public display of dominance. Once Colombia indicated it would accept deportation flights, the administration’s apparent pivot made the bluff easier to see, and made the victory lap feel more like damage control than triumph. That may satisfy a political need for a win, but it also exposes how thin the line can be between a forceful negotiation and a self-inflicted mess.

The deeper problem is not that presidents never use pressure in diplomacy; they do, and not every escalation is empty theater. The problem is the precedent this kind of move creates when it is deployed so quickly and so broadly. If the administration is willing to weaponize trade policy to solve a deportation dispute on day one of a confrontation, then future negotiating partners will take note and adjust their expectations accordingly. They may decide to wait out the threat, assume the White House needs a win, or let the costs land elsewhere before making concessions. That is not durable leverage. It is leverage that depends on everyone else believing the threat is serious enough to matter but not serious enough to follow through forever. The result is volatility, and volatility is a poor substitute for strategy. Even if the Colombia episode produced the outcome Trump wanted, at least according to the administration’s own account, it also exposed how quickly this governing style can turn a policy disagreement into a diplomatic and economic risk. In the short term, that can look like strength. Over time, it looks a lot more like policy by tantrum, complete with customs forms, sanctions talk, and a claim of victory that arrived before the dust had even settled.