There’s been a lot of conversation lately about tariffs and what they might mean for our economy. This isn’t the first time this topic has come up, and it likely won’t be the last.
Some view tariffs as a necessary step—one that could slow our dependence on global supply chains, fast consumption, and possibly
return us to more local production, better wages, and a shift in habits that leans toward sustainability.
In theory, that sounds promising. In fact, some have argued that if prices go up, it might serve as a wake-up call—a push to consume less, waste less, and live more intentionally.
But here’s the hard truth: while some of us have the luxury of choosing to consume less, millions of people in this country never had the option of “more” to begin with.
They aren’t cutting back on non-essentials. They’re already living without.
They’re not reevaluating buying habits because they were never spending on wants—they’re just trying to meet their needs. Food. Medicine. Rent. Transportation. These aren’t optional line items. These are survival basics.
In Lane County, where I live, nearly 15.3% of residents live below the poverty line. Almost half of all households fall into the ALICE category—Asset Limited, Income Constrained, Employed. These are working families. People with jobs. People who get up every day and do their best—and still can’t afford enough food, stable housing, or consistent medical care.
And when we talk about tariffs driving prices higher, let’s be very clear—it’s not just luxury goods or tech gadgets affected. It’s everyday items. Groceries. Gas. Diapers. Prescription drugs.
Now, let’s add another layer.
Our food system is fundamentally broken. It’s designed for mass production, profit, and speed—not for health, equity, or sustainability. The cheapest foods on the shelves are often the least nutritious—heavily processed, full of additives, high in sugar, sodium, and artificial ingredients.
The result? A growing population suffering from preventable chronic illnesses—diabetes, heart disease, high blood pressure—because affordable, nutrient-dense food is out of reach.
And what happens when these conditions set in? People are funneled into a healthcare system that’s equally broken. A system that doesn’t focus on root causes, but on prescriptions. On symptom management. On lifelong medication plans.
We don’t support people in healing. We medicate them to survive.
People don’t need more pills—they need access to real food, clean water, safe places to move, and a healthcare system that sees them as whole people, not billing codes.
And yet, instead of investing in systems of care, we watch millions of Americans fall through the cracks.
- Older adults relying solely on Social Security, choosing between groceries and electricity…
- Veterans in rural areas unable to access basic care as local clinics shut their doors…
- Single parents skipping their own meals so their children have enough to eat…
For these families, there is no “short-term pain for long-term gain.” There’s just pain. And it’s not new—it’s generational.
So while it’s important to have high-level economic conversations—about degrowth, sustainability, and self-sufficiency—those conversations must be grounded in empathy and reality.
Before we celebrate the idea of consuming less, let’s remember: some people never had the luxury of consuming more.
Before we talk about higher prices as a “correction,” let’s talk about how we correct a system that’s left millions behind for decades.
Tariffs, if part of a strategy to build something better, must not come at the expense of those already living on the edge. Because economic reform without compassion is just another version of injustice.
Let’s not forget who’s really paying the price—and who’s been paying it, silently, for far too long.