Who Made the Trade Imbalance

and Why?

“Oh, Now You Want ‘Fairness’? That Word’s Been Collecting Dust for Decades”

Every time the U.S. talks about trade deficits, it plays the victim. But if you look closely, America hasn’t exactly been on the losing side.

For decades, the U.S. has printed dollars and used them to buy cheap goods from all over the world. American consumers got affordable products and low inflation. But in the process, domestic jobs and manufacturing slowly disappeared. Some people made a lot of money. Others were pushed aside.

So how did this global imbalance come to be?

Economist Dani Rodrik once said, “Globalization is a choice—and that choice is designed to benefit specific interest groups.” Under the banner of free trade, the world was reshaped by a U.S.-centric financial system.

Here’s how it worked: The U.S. prints money. With that money, it buys foreign goods. The countries that sell those goods take the dollars and reinvest them into U.S. stocks, bonds, and real estate. In short, America pays for goods with printed money—and then gets the money back through investment. Manufacturing at home? Optional. As long as finance and asset markets keep spinning, the engine runs.

This system wasn’t accidental. It was built and maintained by the U.S. government, Wall Street, and the financial elite. Free trade and globalization sounded noble, but in reality, they reinforced an imbalanced system that overwhelmingly favored the wealthy—especially those already sitting on large piles of assets. The playing field wasn't just uneven—it was tilted.

So who benefited the most?

Nobel Prize–winning economist Joseph Stiglitz put it plainly: “Globalization increased the world’s wealth, but that wealth was not evenly distributed. In the U.S., the top 1% captured most of the gains.”

No surprise—the winners were the financial giants of Wall Street and the top 1% who owned all the appreciating assets.

Sure, the middle class got a slice—some cheaper electronics, maybe a mortgage or two—but in the bigger picture, they were on the sidelines. The real gains went to those holding the deeds, the shares, and the funds.

And while the system was humming along, U.S. policy ensured that this imbalance kept

working. It wasn’t a bug; it was the feature. But now, Donald Trump acts as if all of this was someone else’s fault.

He rallies the government and the middle class into a bloc of righteous indignation—directing all anger outward. Meanwhile, the financial elite, who made off like bandits, are left untouched.

Sound familiar?

It’s like someone crying over a robbery, only to find out it was their own family who emptied the safe. Yet they let the family off the hook and start cursing the neighbors instead.

This is what Trump calls “fairness.” On the surface, it sounds like justice. In reality, it’s lopsided. The blows are aimed outward; the insiders are wrapped in bubble wrap.

So whenever someone starts preaching about a “fair system,” we should ask a simple question:

As political economist Susan Strange once said, “Markets are power. And those who control the market, control the international order.”

So let’s first ask: Who’s been holding the reins of that power?

“Do we actually want fairness? Or do we just want to use ‘fairness’ as a stick to hit someone?”

In the end, “fairness” is often just a hammer dressed up in the robes of virtue. And only after choosing who to hit do we bother labeling the hammer.

Mark Twain might have said it best:

“Justice is a fine thing—especially when I’m the one swinging it.”