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They haven’t even been announced yet, but the idea that they will has sent prices soaring.

China, Canada, Mexico, steel, aluminum, cars, and soon, copper. That’s what the market has concluded following a Bloomberg News report last week that copper tariffs would arrive far sooner than the 270 days President Trump gave the Department of Commerce to conduct its investigation into “dumping” of the metal.
Copper has been dubbed the “metal of electrification,” and demand for it is expected to skyrocket under any reasonable scenario to contain global temperature rise. Even according to a U.S. administration that, at best, neglects climate change considerations, copper is an “essential material for national security, economic strength, and industrial resilience,” as the Trump White House said while announcing its investigation into copper imports.
The effort to boost domestic production of copper did not start with this White House, but it has historically run into the same problems that beset the mining industry: New production can take decades to begin, even after you find the minerals you’re looking for underground. And if demand is not assured — if, for instance, subsidies for electric vehicles filled with copper disappear — then investing in new production could lead to bankruptcy, whereas holding back on new capacity would, at worst, mean forgoing some profits.
The Trump administration and the broader energy and foreign policy community have been, in general, obsessed with rocks — critical minerals, rare earths, and other minerals that are indeed “critical” to much of the economy but are not listed as such. Copper sits somewhere between these categories — while it does not appear on the United States Geological Survey list of critical minerals, which ranges from aluminum and antimony to zinc and zirconium, it does appear on the Department of Energy’s list of “critical materials.”
These lists guide federal data collection efforts, and that data can then get used to guide policymaking. Being on these lists doesn’t guarantee that a related program will get funding, but it does mean that the data is there to draw from should someone need to make a case for why their program should get funding.
This gap between the lists has been a target for Congress, especially for legislators in the Southwest, where much of America’s copper is mined. The discrepancies in the list is essentially a matter of focus for the Energy and Interior Departments — with Energy naturally focused on what’s especially important for energy infrastructure. Getting consistency between the lists, which are only a few years old, will “increase transparency within our federal agencies, ensuring all of our nation’s critical resources are developed, traded, and produced equally, and strengthen our supply chains,” Mike Lee (R-Ut), a sponsor of the Senate version of the legislation, said in a statement.
Trump’s executive order asking for the investigation sought to speed up permitting for new mines — and they’ll need all the help they can get. S&P calculates that the average copper mine takes over 30 years to develop. Rio Tinto and BHP’s Resolution Copper project in Superior, Arizona — which the companies hope will produce 20 million tons of copper — has already sucked up some $2 billion of capital while producing zero copper after about 20 years of legal and political opposition. A proposed copper-nickel mine in Minnesota has already absorbed around $1 billion worth of investment and is still wrangling over the more than 20 permits it needs.
But for the Trump administration’s strategy of tariffs and expedited permitting to actually work for American copper end users, it will have to lead to an expansion of smelting and recycling, in addition to mining.
Reuters reported last year that the Mexican conglomerate Grupo Mexico would re-open an Arizona smelter, but that has yet to happen (it’s currently a Superfund site). A copper mine in Milford, Utah said last week that it was expanding to meet rising copper demand.
The smelting sector is dominated by China. “The United States has ample copper reserves, yet our smelting and refining capacity lags significantly behind global competitors,” the White House said in its copper executive order in February. China’s dominance, “coupled with global overcapacity and a single producer’s control of world supply chains, poses a direct threat to United States national security and economic stability.”
The United States produces around 1.2 million tons of copper annually from its mines and imports around 900,000 tons, according to the United States Geological Survey. Some of that domestically mined copper — around 375,000 tons worth — ends up being exported for smelting, according to the Copper Development Association.
While the United States is near the top of national copper production (well behind the world leader, Chile, but comparable to other large-scale copper producers such as Indonesia and Australia), it has a meager copper refining industry, with only two active smelters producing around 400,000 tons of copper a year — a fraction of China’s refining capacity — leaving American industry reliant on imports.
The energy industry has been dealing with the copper issue for years. More specifically, it’s worrying about how domestic and global production will be able to keep up with what forecasters anticipate could be massive demand.
That goes not just for copper — it also includes the metals that are mined alongside it. First Solar, the U.S.-based solar manufacturing company, has benefited from tariffs on solar panels put in place during the Biden administration. But while First Solar has been a winner in the renewable energy trade conflict, it is still sensitive to the global trade in commodities. That’s in part because it is also a major consumer of tellurium, a mineral that’s a byproduct of copper mining, and which was the subject of expanded export Chinese export controls announced early last month.
“We have, over the past decade employed a strategic sourcing strategy to diversify our tellurium supply chain to mitigate a sole sourcing position in China and are undertaking additional measures to mitigate dependencies on China for certain products containing to tellurium,” Alexander Bradley, First Solar’s chief financial officer, said in the company’s February earnings call. “While we continue to evaluate [whether] there will be any operational impact from China's decision, this latest development emphasizes the urgent need for the United States to accelerate the strategic development of copper mining and processing of its byproduct materials, including tellurium.”
Electric vehicles are another major user of copper among climate technologies, with EVs having on average around 180 pounds of copper in them, according to the Copper Development Association. Tesla — which will soon be hit by auto tariffs — has been actively trying to reduce its copper consumption. Meanwhile Rivian, one of Tesla’s primary domestic competitors, announced last year that it would cut its production targets dramatically due to what turned out to be a supplier communication snafu for a copper component of its motors.
“We’re very bullish on copper prices,” Kathleen Quirk, chief executive officer of Freeport-McMoRan, which runs a number of U.S. copper mines (and a smelter, to boot), said at a financial conference in February. With boosts in demand coming from “power generation, new power generation investments, multibillion-dollar investments in infrastructure and energy infrastructure, it's going to be very positive for copper.”
Copper prices paid by American manufacturers have been rising for the past five months, according to the monthly PMI survey. Prices in New York reached record highs last week, hitting almost $12,000 per ton as the industry tried to beat the almost-certainly-inevitable tariffs, according to an ING analyst report released last week.
The actual imposition of the tariffs would constitute a “further upside risk to copper prices” — in other words, prices will continue to climb, according to the ING analysts. “The U.S. copper rush could leave the rest of the world tight on copper if demand picks up more quickly than expected,” the ING analysts wrote.
Copper futures have shot up this year by around 25%, leading to profits for those who mine it — especially in the United States.
From the perspective of Freeport-McMoRan, the market gyrations so far have generally been to the upside, with the premium on copper in the U.S. “helping us from that perspective of generating higher revenues for our U.S. price copper,” Quirk said at the conference. But the domestic copper industry as a whole does not see tariffs as the sole way to increase copper production.
“The U.S. will need an all-of-the-above sourcing strategy to secure a stable supply for domestic use. This must include increased mining in the U.S., increased smelting and refining in the U.S., enhanced recycling, keeping more copper scrap within U.S. borders, and continued trade with reliable partners to maintain the flow of critical raw material feedstocks for domestic use,” Copper Development Association chief executive Adam Estelle told me in an emailed statement.
And tariffs can come in faster than new mines and smelters can be built or their capacity expanded. American mining projects have been mired in decades of permitting delays and negotiations with local communities not because there isn’t a market opportunity for new copper, but because it just takes a very long time to open a mine.
Even as she was celebrating Freeport-McMoRan’s robust outlook, CEO Kathleen Quirk noted that “at the same time, it's become more and more difficult to develop new supplies of copper.”
That goes especially for industries related to renewable energy, where copper finds itself into grid equipment, solar panels, and wind turbines. Even so, they’ve been wary of talking about an impending tariff directly.
A number of trade groups, including the Zero Emission Transportation Association, the National Electrical Manufacturers Association, and the Solar Energy Industries Association, hailed an executive order aiming to accelerate critical minerals production released March 20. When I asked about copper tariffs, however, a ZETA spokesperson referred me to an earlier statement decrying trade conflict with Canada and Mexico, saying that “imposing tariffs on allies and trading partners like Canada and Mexico — both of which play a significant role in the North American automotive supply chain — will increase costs to consumers and make it more difficult to attract investment into our communities.”
Meanwhile, NEMA’s vice president of public affairs, Spencer Pederson, told me in an emailed statement that “any new trade policies must provide predictability and certainty for future domestic investments and businesses.”
Other manufacturing-centric industries that use copper aren’t thrilled about the prospect of tariffs, either. A spokesperson for the National Association of Manufacturers referred me to its recent survey showing that the top two concerns among its members were “trade uncertainties,” feared by more than three quarters of respondents, and “increased raw material costs,” which worried 60% of respondents. While NAM is broadly supportive of many Trump administration goals, especially around extending the 2017 tax cuts, it has called for a “commonsense manufacturing strategy” which includes “making way for exemptions for critical inputs.” That runs against the Trump administration’s preference for big, obvious tariffs.
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Cement, plywood, and some electronic equipment will face 50% levies. But the real cost is much higher.
Here we go again. The United States will impose new 50% tariffs on a slew of imports from Canada, the White House announced on Monday afternoon. The trade levies — which will hit more than 500 categories of goods, from anoraks, beer, and curtains, to yarn, wool, and whey protein — will take effect in 30 days.
The new tariffs don’t seem to be wildfire-related. President Trump threatened to impose new tariffs last week after smoke from Canadian wildfires drifted south over the northern U.S. border, but administration officials have claimed to CNN that these new levies were already in motion by then.
Even so, a few aspects of the announcement stand out. Most important, at least from a generalist perspective, is the legal mechanism that President Trump is using to apply them: Section 338 of the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act. This passage, which has never been used by a previous president to levy tariffs, allows the United States to tax trade from countries that the president says have “discriminated against” U.S. commerce.
Significant, too, is the fact the White House asserts this new kind of tariff could apply to any kind of product — even those that would normally be covered by the North American free trade pact, the U.S.-Mexico-Canada Agreement. So far, the “Big Three” automakers — whose supply chains cross the Mexican or Canadian borders half a dozen times before a car is finally assembled — have avoided major tariff danger because auto parts and other inputs fall under the USMCA’s auspices. If the White House now thinks it can levy taxes despite that pact, then the risks for Ford, General Motors, and their suppliers have increased.
Energy and critical minerals are exempt from the new tariffs, so Canadian crude oil, gasoline, diesel, natural gas, and electricity will presumably keep flowing into the United States. (That explicit carve-out might be ominous in its own right, because energy had been protected by USMCA so far, too.) By omitting energy, Trump and his officials may be calculating they can avoid major inflationary hazards from this round of tariffs.
Who knows. In any case, to my eye, these tariffs do seem like they could aggravate construction costs and possibly contribute to wider U.S. inflation. There’s already some evidence that data centers are driving a new wave of inflation, for instance, by hiking construction input and labor costs. Yet data centers use a lot of cement — and cement will now face a 50% tariff under the new regime. So too will plywood, plaster, and paperboard, as well as industrial cooling equipment, chemicals, and some circuit boards.
I could keep listing the potential economic costs here — I could point out that overall inflation risk is rising or that average U.S. gas prices rose to $4 a gallon today on the Iran war news — but I think it’s important to look at least one step beyond the hits to commerce alone.
I mentioned earlier that these tariffs are meant to punish “discrimination.” In this case, some of the “discrimination” appears to be what some Canadian provinces did to retaliate against the president’s earlier tariffs. The state-owned liquor stores in Quebec and Ontario, for instance, stopped buying U.S.-made booze after Trump slapped 25% tariffs on Canada in March 2025; those boycotts are mentioned by name in today’s proclamation. Canada, you see, is not supposed to respond to Trump’s tariffs. It is just supposed to take it — just like it’s supposed to take the constant stream of falsehoods, abuse, belittling, and invasion threat.
Over the past few years, politicians and pundits have learned to respond to Trump’s policies by appealing to U.S. self-interest — by explaining how the president’s policies are making Americans poorer. It is a sensible strategy for a morally denuded era. A recent statement from Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer about Canada, for example, criticized the president for hurting “our closest ally and partner … right when summer tourism season is arriving.” I get the move here — and I think, in some sense, Schumer is trying to avoid polarizing Trump’s treatment of Canada along partisan lines — but Canadians are more than their tourism dollars.
For the past several years, Trump has threatened to strip Canada of its sovereignty and its dignity. He has treated what was once a deep and secure relationship as something to be bartered and mined and dissipated. It is a mucilaginous approach to statecraft, and as recent reporting has made clear, its long-term costs will exceed any simple accounting. We Americans have been robbed of an honorable friendship. Some losses cannot be counted in dollars.
In seven years of owning an electric car, I’ve done practically no maintenance. My 2019 Tesla Model 3 has gotten a new set of tires and windshield wipers, but because an EV doesn’t require oil changes or many of the other occasional chores that come with gas cars, that’s about it.
The one thing I have had to fix is the battery, and no, I don’t mean the big one that makes the car go.
Twice in those seven years, I’ve replaced the car’s 12-volt battery. This is the toolbox-sized unit that’s familiar to millions — it’s what the phrase “car battery” used to mean back before electric vehicles. Lots of new or aspiring EV drivers may not even realize their car has a second, smaller battery borrowed from combustion days. But this crucial holdover — the most recycled object on the planet, by the way, at a rate of more than 100 million annually — has already been a source of annoyance for EV engineers and drivers.
The reason behind the weird setup is straightforward. Despite the fact that EVs are effectively giant batteries on wheels, they need a backup source to operate the power windows and doors. If you’re in a car accident that disables the main battery, for instance, you need power to the doors to escape, and also a way to disconnect the high-voltage battery. Thus, the old-fashioned 12-volt battery squirreled away deep inside the car to protect it during collisions.
It’s not just a matter of backup power, either. A large, high-voltage battery would have to step down its electrical output for applications other than pushing a car down the road; it’s simpler to power them with a 12-volt battery and use the big unit to recharge the smaller one. After all, legacy carmakers have decades of experience building this kind of electrical system for gasoline-powered cars. Some EVs also use the 12-volt setup to disconnect the high-voltage power supply when the car is simply parked for a long time.
All this makes solid engineering sense. It also means that a sleek, modern EV is reliant upon the clunky car battery of yesteryear. Some drivers, including those in new Kia EVs, have said they can’t drive their cars even though there’s plenty of juice in the big unit because something went wrong with the 12-volt. As one Reddit commenter wrote: “It seems absurd to design a car that can run out of electrons and not be able to start while it is carrying 70 kWh of energy in a giant battery.” Yet that’s exactly the reality.
There are a few reasons why. As InsideEVs has noted, the rugged old 12-volt keeps getting more and more responsibility. Nowadays, the constant cellular connectivity of modem EVs — as well as features that can be used while the car is parked, such as security systems that tap into the vehicle’s exterior cameras to monitor the surrounding area — can cause a continuous drain on the 12-volt battery. That requires the car’s big battery to “wake up” and recharge the smaller one, which not only bleeds the vehicle’s driving range while it’s sitting still but also causes lots of recharging cycles for the 12-volt, prematurely aging the small battery.
Rivian had notorious problems from this issue for the older R1T and R1S and had to engineer a fix. Hyundais and Kias, meanwhile, have had longstanding issues with their Integrated Charging Control Unit, the system that recharges the 12-volt battery, that have caused a variety of recalls and headaches widely documented in online posts and videos. Chevy and Toyota have endured their own growing pains trying to make a low-voltage electrical system work well inside an EV.
But the car companies are getting smarter. Rather than duplicating what works in gas cars, more of them are building EV-specific systems with this application in mind. For example, the 12-volt in an EV doesn’t need to provide the big single burst needed to start up a gas engine, but it does need to be able to survive being subjected to more recharging cycles. In other words, it’s not that using these batteries in modern EVs is a bad idea — we just need to be smarter about how.
Perhaps EV builders one day will engineer away the old battery. Rivian, for one, has filed a patent for an electrical architecture that would work without a low-voltage battery at all. But those workarounds are a long way out. For now, even the most futuristic-feeling electric cars are stuck with the same kind of battery your dad had to jump-start in the church parking lot that time you left the AC on and the engine wasn’t running. My big, high-voltage battery might keep running forever, even as its capacity continues to diminish. But inevitably, I’ll need another small, dumb battery when this one goes kaput.
GOP lawmakers know climate change is real. But they lack political incentives to do anything about it.
The New York Times recently profiled former Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist and his increasing engagement on climate change. Many of the online comments accused him of hypocrisy. Why, they asked, did he only become concerned about climate change after leaving Congress?
It’s an understandable question.
I have spent the better part of a decade discussing climate change with Republican members of Congress and can see a frequently overlooked part of the answer. During my hundreds of one-on-one conversations with Republican senators and representatives, almost none of them deny that climate change is occurring. Most understand the science well enough, and many acknowledge privately that it presents serious long-term risks.
They don’t lack knowledge. They lack political incentives.
Members of Congress have finite political capital. Every day they must decide which issues deserve their attention. Naturally, they devote their time to the issues that voters, donors, activists, staff, and party leaders tell them matter most.
Politics is a marketplace of incentives. For decades, climate advocates have devoted their efforts to changing Republicans’ minds, but have devoted little effort to changing the incentives for Republicans to act.
The political ecosystem for Democrats could not be more different. Democrats are surrounded by organizations that continually reinforce the importance of climate policy. Environmental groups, philanthropies, labor organizations, advocacy organizations, academics, campaign donors, think tanks, and congressional staff all create an environment in which climate engagement is expected and rewarded.
Republicans experience almost none of that.
When I was quoted in the New York Times article, I described the “eco right” as “a lonely place.” I meant it literally. There are remarkably few conservative organizations whose primary mission is helping Republican elected officials develop serious climate policy. Few donors make climate engagement a condition of support. Few advocacy groups reward constructive leadership. Few congressional staff have access to a deep bench of conservative climate experts. Climate is far more often presented as a political liability than a leadership opportunity.
In that environment, addressing climate change is rarely a priority. This largely explains what puzzles many observers — that Republican leaders often become noticeably more outspoken about addressing climate change after leaving office. The science has not changed. Their incentives have.
Freed from primary elections, fundraising pressures, and the constant competition for legislative attention, they’re able to think about problems whose consequences unfold over decades instead of election cycles.
That observation leads to an uncomfortable conclusion for those of us who want stronger climate policy: Persuading Republicans that climate change is real is not just unnecessary, it’s unproductive. They know it’s real. The more important task is building the institutions that make climate engagement a priority. That means investing in conservative policy organizations, developing Republican congressional staff expertise, supporting Republican governors and state legislators, encouraging business leaders to engage, creating donor networks that reward constructive center-right leadership, and giving Republican members credible partners they can trust.
In other words, we need to make the eco-right a much less lonely place.
Building institutions requires capital, both political and financial. Today, the overwhelming majority of climate-related political spending — whether by advocacy organizations, political action committees, or philanthropically supported campaigns — flows to Democratic candidates and causes. It’s understandable. Democrats have generally been more supportive of climate action, and donors naturally want to reward those who stand with them.
But rewarding allies isn’t the same as expanding the number of them.
If the objective is durable climate policy rather than simply electing more Democrats, then the current allocation of political spending deserves reconsideration. Congress writes laws, and lasting legislation almost always requires bipartisan support. A movement that invests overwhelmingly in one party shouldn’t be surprised when the other party lacks champions, expertise, and political incentives.
Climate philanthropists, advocacy organizations, and political action committees should explicitly seek to create Republican allies by committing a more significant portion of their electoral spending to Republican candidates. This support would send a powerful signal throughout Republican politics that constructive engagement on climate change will be rewarded. More Republican candidates would respond to those incentives, and the universe of viable partners would expand.
For Republicans, the greatest opportunity lies in primary elections. While general elections determine which party governs, primaries determine what kind of Republicans and Democrats will govern. Donors should identify Republican candidates who are willing to engage on a variety of climate-related topics — from adaptation and resilience to market-based policies that reduce emissions to energy innovation — and help them succeed. The objective isn’t ideological purity. It’s to demonstrate that constructive climate leadership is politically viable within today’s Republican Party, and to give those candidates the confidence that they aren’t alone.
Over time, this approach would accomplish something today’s funding model cannot. Rather than simply rewarding an existing coalition, it would create a larger one. It would produce more Republican members who see climate engagement as compatible with conservative principles. Climate change would still be a scientific and economic challenge, but politics would no longer preclude addressing it.
Rather than increasingly evident climate change adding to political division, it could drive both parties to act. America’s biggest policy achievements have generally occurred when a president elevated an issue as a national priority and Congress responded. Tax reform, welfare reform, civil rights, and other major agreements all required presidential leadership before they produced durable bipartisan legislation.
Climate policy has not yet reached that level. While voters increasingly care about it, it does not determine presidential elections or dominate governing agendas.
The closest climate change has come to being a top-tier issue was when President George H.W. Bush signed the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change in 1992, but that was before addressing climate change became so partisan. More recently, President Joe Biden included clean energy tax credits in the Inflation Reduction Act. That modest success is noteworthy in part because it rode upon legislation to address inflation, a top-tier voter issue — and because the provisions were largely repealed less than three years later. Until climate change becomes a presidential-level issue — one that candidates in both parties believe they must address — Congress is unlikely to devote sustained attention to it.
That day will come. And when that moment arrives, the quality of the legislation will depend on the work being done now. If we want bipartisan climate policy tomorrow, we need to build bipartisan political capacity today.
The climate movement has spent decades rewarding allies. The next several decades should be spent adding more. Politics follows incentives more than information. If we want Republicans to lead on addressing climate change or at least become those allies, we must stop just trying to persuade them and start investing in the institutions, incentives, and people that make it possible.