History has a way of repeating itself, not in exact echoes but in resonant patterns. Today, as Donald Trump champions tariffs to rebalance America’s economic fortunes, we see a striking parallel to William McKinley, the 25th president, whose own tariff policies in the late 19th century steadied a nation rocked by industrial upheaval. Both men, separated by over a century, confronted a working class left adrift—McKinley by the Industrial Revolution’s relentless churn, Trump by globalization’s hollowing-out of American industry. Their remedy? Protective tariffs, not as a cudgel to divide classes, but as a lever to lift the bottom rung and stabilize the whole ladder, with tangible wage growth as proof of the pudding.
McKinley took office in 1897 amid economic wreckage. The Industrial Revolution had unleashed unprecedented growth, but its spoils skewed heavily toward the elite. Factories roared, railroads sprawled, and steel barons thrived, yet the working class—mill workers, miners, laborers—languished with wages that barely budged. Between 1860 and 1890, real wages for unskilled labor crept up just 1 percent annually, often eroded by inflation and job insecurity. Free trade policies flooded markets with cheap foreign goods, undercutting American producers and keeping workers’ paychecks thin. Sound familiar? It should. Trump inherited a modern echo: globalization gutted manufacturing, with real median wages for blue-collar workers stagnating—growing a measly 0.2 percent per year from 2000 to 2016—while jobs vanished overseas and corporate profits soared.
McKinley’s response was the Dingley Tariff Act of 1897, slapping duties as high as 57 percent on imports like steel and wool. Critics screeched about trade wars, but the results spoke louder. By shielding domestic industries, the tariff sparked a manufacturing boom—industrial output jumped 50 percent from 1897 to 1901—and jobs followed. Working-class wages responded: between 1897 and 1904, real wages for manufacturing workers rose by about 1.5 percent annually, outpacing pre-tariff decades. Unskilled laborers saw hourly pay climb from 15 cents to nearly 20 cents by 1900, a roughly 33 percent nominal increase in just a few years. McKinley’s tariffs didn’t just create jobs; they fattened paychecks, pulling workers into prosperity alongside industrialists rather than leaving them to scrap with the elite.
Trump’s tariff strategy mirrors this blueprint. Globalization’s toll was brutal: from 2001 to 2018, the US lost 3.4 million manufacturing jobs, many to China, while real wages for the bottom 50 percent of earners grew a pitiful 0.4 percent annually—lagging far behind the 1 percent’s windfall. Trump’s tariffs, starting with 25 percent on steel and 10 percent on aluminum in 2018, aimed to reverse that slide. Early signs were promising: by 2019, manufacturing employment ticked up by 400,000 jobs, and real median wages for blue-collar workers rose 3.4 percent that year alone—outpacing the anemic pre-tariff trend. Steelworkers in Pennsylvania saw hourly pay jump from $22 to $26 in some plants, a 18 percent boost. Like McKinley, Trump bets that protecting industry lifts labor’s bargaining power, driving wages without igniting class warfare.
The key here—then and now—is tariffs’ effect is a restricting of our economics for everyone. McKinley didn’t peddle them as a populist jab at the rich; he framed them as a win for all. Factory owners got markets, workers got raises—by 1900, average annual earnings for industrial workers hit $437, up from $380 in 1897—and the economy roared. Trump’s pitch is the same: tariffs aren’t handouts; they’re a reset. When a tariff keeps a factory humming in Michigan, the worker’s $2-an-hour raise isn’t charity—it’s leverage. Pre-COVID, his policies pushed wage growth for the bottom 10 percent to 4.5 percent in 2019, outstripping the top earners for once.
McKinley was shot and killed by a rabid commie, and his baton passed to Teddy Roosevelt after, who kept tariffs high—averaging 46 percent—while busting trusts to ensure wage gains didn’t just pad tycoons’ pockets. From 1901 to 1909, manufacturing wages grew another 1.2 percent annually, cementing the working class’s foothold. Trump, eyeing a second term, seems set to follow suit. His first stint showed tariffs could jolt wages—now he’s got a chance to double down, targeting China’s flood of cheap goods to keep the paychecks rising.
Skeptics will trot out “protectionism” boogeymen like Smoot-Hawley, but McKinley’s era proves the case: tariffs didn’t tank growth; they fueled it, with wages to match. Trump’s not flawless—supply shocks sting—but the alternative is a working class stuck at $12 an hour while globalists rake in billions. McKinley knew a nation thrives when the economic heartland does. Trump’s banking on the same truth: protect the base, and the wages—and the country—will rise. History doesn’t just whisper—it pays.
