What should have been a straightforward bilateral negotiation is now a front-row seat to a diplomatic circus, with Japan forced to navigate a three-headed Hydra of American trade policy. Each head has its own agenda. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent speaks the language of markets and pragmatism. USTR Jamieson Greer leans into reciprocal frameworks and economic security. But then there’s Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick, wielding Trump-era tariff doctrine like a sledgehammer and brushing off court rulings as procedural noise.
It’s no wonder trade deals are getting delayed—Trump’s trade team isn’t reading from the same script, they’re acting out different plays on the same stage. One source close to the negotiations recounted a moment that crystallizes the dysfunction: at one point, Lutnick, Greer, and Bessent actually paused the talks with Japan’s delegation to argue amongst themselves—right in front of the Japanese team. The scene wasn’t diplomacy. It was theater. And Tokyo was stuck in the audience, trying to extract policy clarity from political improv.
Still, Japan isn’t sitting still. It’s adjusted its stance, backing off its demand for a full repeal of the 25% auto tariffs and offering a phased reduction plan tied to U.S. production volumes and regional exports. It’s a tactical move to give Lutnick something to point to, while Bessent and Greer can still call it a win for rules-based cooperation.
Tokyo’s next gambit? Strategic alignment on rare earths—proposing bilateral cooperation to counter China’s tightening chokehold on critical mineral exports. It’s not just a trade pitch—it’s a geopolitical chess move aimed at Washington’s long game.
But the real question hanging over this isn’t just how Japan plays the board. It’s how Beijing makes sense of it. If Tokyo can’t get a straight answer from Washington’s three-headed team, how on earth is China supposed to navigate the maze? Beijing’s negotiation model is hierarchical and disciplined—designed for single-channel clarity, not three-way crossfire.
Until someone reins in this trio or at least assigns a lead voice, every negotiation becomes an exercise in triangulating power within the room before even reaching across the table. This isn’t trade diplomacy—it’s internal infighting with an international audience. And the longer it plays out, the more likely key deals fall victim to the noise.
Trump-Musk detente?
So, after a day that felt like trading on a tilt-a-whirl (and a week ripped straight from a Hunter S. Thompson fever dream), Elon Musk took to X Thursday night with a noticeably different tone. This came after 12 hours of political brinkmanship and algorithm-breaking mayhem: Trump threatened to yank federal funding from Musk’s empire in retaliation for his BBB dissent, and Musk responded by threatening to mothball the only operational U.S. spacecraft capable of ferrying astronauts to the ISS, proposing a centrist political party “for the 80% stuck in the middle,” tossing a grenade of innuendo at Trump, and endorsing impeachment—all before lunch.
But now, with the adrenaline crash setting in, Musk seems to have hit the brakes. Late Thursday, he posted that he would not decommission Dragon, hinting at either a moment of clarity or a tactical ceasefire. Whether this is the end of the drama or just the intermission, markets are on edge. When one man’s thumbs can torch $150 billion in a trading session, the spectacle becomes the signal—even when it reads like a screenplay ghostwritten by Orwell on amphetamines.
AloJapan.com