EU leaders would be mistaken to look for trade relief in China as Canada does, and bargain away the continent’s industrial capacity in the process.
Yanmei Xie is senior associate fellow at the Mercator Institute for China Studies.
After Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney spoke at Davos last week, a whole continent contracted leadership envy. Calling the rules-based order — which Washington proselytized for decades before stomping on — a mirage, Carney gave his country’s neighboring hegemonic bully a rhetorical middle finger, and Europeans promptly swooned.
But before the bloc’s politicians rush to emulate him, it may be worth cooling the Carney fever.
Appearing both steely and smooth in his Davos speech, Carney warned middle powers that “when we only negotiate bilaterally with a hegemon, we negotiate from weakness.” Perhaps this was in reference to the crass daily coercion Canada has been enduring from the U.S. administration. But perhaps he was talking about the subtler asymmetry he experienced just days before in Beijing.
In contrast to his defiance in Switzerland, Carney was ingratiating during his China visit. He signed Canada up for a “new strategic partnership” in preparation for an emerging “new world order,” and lauded Chinese leader Xi Jinping as a fellow defender of multilateralism.
The visit also produced a cars-for-canola deal, which will see Canada slash tariffs on Chinese electric vehicles from 100 percent to 6.1 percent, and lift the import cap to 49,000 cars per year. In return, China will cut duties on Canadian canola seeds from 84 percent to 15 percent.
In time, Ottawa also expects Beijing will reduce tariffs on Canadian lobsters, crabs and peas later this year and purchase more Canadian oil and perhaps gas, too. The agreement to launch a Ministerial Energy Dialogue will surely pave the way for eventual deals.
These productive exchanges eventually moved Carney to declare Beijing a “more predictable” trade partner than Washington. And who can blame him? He was simply stating the obvious — after all, China isn’t threatening Canada with annexation. But one is tempted to wonder if he would have needed to flatter quite so much in China if his country still possessed some of the world’s leading technologies.
The truth is, Canada’s oil and gas industry probably shouldn’t really be holding its breath. Chinese officials typically offer serious consideration rather than outright rejection out of politeness — just ask Russia, which has spent decades in dialogue with Beijing over a pipeline meant to replace Europe as a natural gas market.
The cars-for-canola deal also carries a certain irony: Canada is importing the very technology that makes fossil fuels obsolete. China is electrifying at dizzying speed, with the International Energy Agency projecting its oil consumption will peak as early as next year thanks to “extraordinary” electric vehicle sales. That means Beijing probably isn’t desperate for new foreign suppliers of hydrocarbons, and the ministerial dialogue will likely drag on inconclusively — albeit courteously — well into the future.
This state of Sino-Canadian trade can be seen as classic comparative advantage at work: China is good at making things, and Canada has abundant primary commodities. But in the not-so-distant past, it was Canadian companies that were selling nuclear reactors, telecom equipment, aircraft and bullet trains to China. Yet today, many of these once globe-spanning Canadian high-tech manufacturers have either exited the scene or lead a much-reduced existence.
Somewhere in this trading history lies a cautionary tale for Europe. Deindustrialization can have its own self-reinforcing momentum. As a country’s economic composition changes, so does its political economy. When producers of goods disappear, so does their political influence. And the center of lobbying gravity shifts toward downstream users and consumers who prefer readily available imports.
Europe already has its own version of this story: Its indigenous solar manufacturers have been driven to near extinction by much cheaper Chinese products over the span of two decades. Currently, its solar industry is dominated by installers and operators who favor cheap imports and oppose trade defense.
Simply put, Carney’s cars-for-canola deal is a salve for Canadian consumers and commodity producers, but it’s also industrial policy in reverse. In overly simplified terms, industrial policy is about encouraging exports of finished products over raw materials and discouraging the opposite in order to build domestic value-added capacity and productivity.
But while Canada can, perhaps, make do without industry — as Carney put it in Davos, his ambition is to run “an energy superpower” — Europe doesn’t have that option. Agri-food and extractive sectors aren’t enough to stand up the continent’s economy — even with the likes of tourism and luxury goods thrown in.
China currently exports more than twice as much to the EU than it imports. In container terms, the imbalance widens to 4-to-1. Meanwhile, Goldman Sachs estimates Chinese exports will shave 0.2 percentage point or more of GDP growth in Germany, Spain and Italy each year through 2029. And according to the European Central Bank, cars, chemicals, electric equipment and machinery — sectors that form Europe’s industrial backbone — face the most severe job losses from China trade shock.
Europe shares Canada’s plight in dealing with the U.S., which currently isn’t just an unreliable trade partner but also an ally turned imperialist. This is why Carney’s speech resonates. But U.S. protectionism has only made China’s mercantilism a more acute challenge for Europe, as the U.S. resists the bloc’s exports and Chinese goods keep pouring into Europe in greater quantities at lower prices.
European leaders would be mistaken to look for trade relief in China as Carney does, and bargain away the continent’s industrial capacity in the process. Whether it’s to resist an expansionist Russia or an imperial U.S., Europe still needs to hold on to its manufacturing base.
