ANALYSIS: Trump Suspends the Jones Act — and Gas Prices Become a Geopolitical Weapon

The specter of Hormuz closes its jaws

The suspension of the Jones Act did not come out of the blue. It is the direct consequence of a military escalation in the Persian Gulf that Washington had not anticipated would happen so quickly.

The Iran–U.S. conflict has led to a tightening of global oil supply. Marine insurers have raised their premiums for any passage through the Strait of Hormuz. Some shipowners now refuse to send their tankers through it. The result: an artificial bottleneck has been added to a geographical one.

Trump himself cited the passage of ten tankers authorized by Iran as a gesture of good faith toward negotiations—a detail that reveals the fragility of the global supply chain when a single nation can decide to turn off a tap that feeds the planet.

The Price per Gallon as a Political Barometer

In the United States, the price of gas is much more than an economic indicator. It’s an electoral barometer. Every extra cent per gallon translates into measurable points of dissatisfaction in the polls. Trump knows this better than anyone—it’s the lever he used to hammer Biden for four years.

And yet, here he is, facing the same trap. Prices are soaring, and structural solutions—energy diversification, investments in refineries, renegotiation of oil agreements—take years. Suspending the Jones Act, on the other hand, can produce results in a matter of weeks.

The Efficiency Argument

From a strictly economic standpoint, there is consensus on the waiver—a rare occurrence in a field where consensus is an endangered species. By allowing foreign vessels to transport oil between U.S. ports, we instantly increase available logistics capacity, reduce transportation costs, and streamline distribution.

The effect on prices at the pump won’t be dramatic—a few cents per gallon, according to most analysts—but it will be real. And in a context of extreme tension, every cent counts.

The Blind Spot of Externalities

What economists in favor of the waiver mention less often is the issue of long-term national security. If the U.S. merchant fleet continues to shrink—and the suspension of the Jones Act accelerates this decline—who will transport military equipment in the event of a major conflict? The merchant marine of a country with which Washington might be at odds tomorrow?

This is the fundamental paradox. We are solving a short-term problem—energy prices—by potentially exacerbating a long-term problem—sovereign logistical capacity.

American Jobs at Stake

Maritime unions are up in arms. And their argument isn’t just about their own interests—it strikes a raw nerve in American politics: industrial jobs.

The Jones Act protects approximately 650,000 direct and indirect jobs, according to industry estimates. Sailors, shipbuilders, mechanics, logistics specialists—these are often well-paying jobs in regions where alternatives are scarce. Every exemption, even a temporary one, sends a signal to investors: Why build an American ship if the rules can change overnight?

Trump’s Trap with His Own Base

Here’s the most biting irony. Trump built his political empire on the promise of protecting American workers from foreign competition. “America First” wasn’t just a slogan—it was a social contract with blue-collar workers in the Midwest and port areas.

And now he’s suspending the most protectionist law in U.S. maritime law. To lower gas prices. The unions have been quick to point out the contradiction—with a ferocity that suggests this waiver will come at a political cost far exceeding its economic benefits.

The Additional Cost of Regulatory Insularity

For residents of Hawaii, Puerto Rico, Alaska, and the U.S. insular territories, the Jones Act is not a legislative abstraction. It is a daily cost added to every product they buy.

In Hawaii, it is estimated that the Jones Act adds between $1,500 and $3,000 per household per year to the cost of living. In Puerto Rico—a territory ravaged by repeated hurricanes—the law measurably and demonstrably increases the cost of reconstruction.

The 60-day waiver offers these communities a respite. But it is a respite that cruelly highlights the absurdity of a system in which it takes a major geopolitical crisis for Washington to agree to apply market rules to its own most vulnerable citizens.

The 2017 Puerto Rico Precedent

This is not the first time a president has suspended the Jones Act in an emergency. After Hurricane Maria in 2017, Trump had already signed a temporary waiver to allow relief supplies to be shipped to Puerto Rico. The suspension lasted ten days. Ten days—for a territory that would take years to rebuild.

The implicit message was clear: the Jones Act can be suspended when the suffering becomes politically untenable. But not a second longer.

A world where trade routes are weapons

The Jones Act crisis is part of a broader shift. By 2026, global shipping lanes had become instruments of geopolitical power on par with nuclear arsenals.

The Strait of Hormuz. The Suez Canal. The Strait of Malacca. The Northeast Passage, which Russia seeks to control. Every chokepoint is a lever—and every nation that controls a passage can, in theory, bring the global economy to its knees.

In this context, the issue of the Jones Act goes far beyond the scope of trade protectionism. It is a matter of logistical sovereignty. And Trump’s response—suspension rather than reform—reveals Washington’s structural inability to think beyond the electoral cycle.

China Builds, America Waives

While Washington debates the temporary suspension of a century-old law, China is building. Ports. Ships. Shipyards. Beijing now has the world’s largest merchant fleet and the industrial capacity to double it within a decade.

The contrast is stark. The United States is suspending the Jones Act because it doesn’t have enough ships to transport its own oil between its own ports. China, on the other hand, is building entire maritime routes—the famous Maritime Silk Road—to connect its ports to the entire globe.

That is the real scandal that no one is speaking out about. Not the suspension of the Jones Act, but the fact that this suspension is necessary.

The Trap of the Temporary Measure That Lasts

In politics, nothing is as permanent as a temporary measure. The 60-day waiver raises a question the Trump administration would prefer to avoid: what happens on day 61?

If the conflict with Iran isn’t resolved—and there’s no indication it will be in two months—energy prices will remain high. Renew the waiver? The unions will cry betrayal. Don’t renew it? Prices will rise again, and voters will cry foul.

Trump has boxed himself into a tactical corner with no elegant way out. Every option comes at a cost. And that cost rises with time.

The Real Debate That No One Wants to Have

The fundamental question is not whether the exemption is justified—it probably is, under current circumstances. The question is why the United States, the world’s leading economic power, is unable to transport its own energy between its own ports without relying on foreign ships.

The answer is troubling. For decades, Washington has protected an industry without investing in it. The Jones Act has guaranteed comfortable profit margins for American shipowners while discouraging innovation and competitiveness. The result? An aging, inadequate fleet that relies on regulatory rent rather than industrial excellence.

Who stands to gain in the short term

U.S. consumers—to a modest extent. East Coast refiners, who will be able to source crude oil from the Gulf of Mexico at a lower cost. Foreign shipowners—Greek, Norwegian, and Singaporean—who will temporarily gain access to a market that is usually closed to them. And Trump himself, who can tout a concrete measure against rising prices.

Who loses—and who will pay later

U.S. shipyards, whose already meager order books risk becoming even emptier. American seafarers, whose jobs depend on a regulatory monopoly that is now under threat. And potentially U.S. national security, if the country’s sovereign shipping capacity continues to erode.

The paradox is complete. Trump is weakening a protectionist law in the name of economic urgency, while maintaining massive tariffs on Chinese and European imports. Selective protectionism is not a doctrine—it is a day-to-day political calculation.

A Structural Vulnerability Exposed

Beyond the price per gallon, this Jones Act crisis reveals a truth that America prefers to ignore: its logistical dependence is a strategic Achilles’ heel.

The United States produces more oil than any other country in the world. It is the world’s leading producer. And yet, it cannot efficiently transport that production along its own coastline. It’s as if a farmer with a surplus of wheat had to borrow his neighbor’s truck to deliver to his own bakery.

A symptom of a deeper industrial decline

The suspension of the Jones Act is merely a symptom. The disease is the deindustrialization of the U.S. maritime sector. Whereas the United States used to build Liberty Ships at a rate of one every two weeks during World War II, it now struggles to maintain a commercial fleet capable of meeting its domestic needs.

And yet, this conversation isn’t happening. Not in public discourse. Not in Congress. Not in the media. People talk about gas prices. They don’t talk about what it means for a superpower to no longer be able to transport itself.

Katrina, Maria, and Now Iran

Every suspension of the Jones Act tells the same story. Hurricane Katrina in 2005. Hurricane Sandy in 2012. Hurricane Maria in 2017. And now, the Iranian conflict of 2026.

The pattern is always the same. A crisis strikes. Prices skyrocket or aid fails to arrive. Washington suspends the law. The crisis passes. The law is reinstated. Nothing changes structurally. Until the next crisis.

This is the very definition of reactive governance—this chronic inability to anticipate what we know is inevitable. The Jones Act will be suspended once again. The question is not if, but when.

What the Repetition Reveals

When an emergency mechanism is activated repeatedly, it is no longer an emergency—it is a systemic dysfunction that we refuse to correct. Suspending the Jones Act every few years is like turning off the fire alarm rather than putting out the fire.

The Invisible Billions

How much does the Jones Act actually cost the U.S. economy? Estimates vary, but none are reassuring. The Government Accountability Office has documented significant additional costs. Independent studies cite figures ranging from a few billion to more than ten billion dollars per year in indirect costs to consumers.

But the true cost isn’t financial. It’s an opportunity cost. Every dollar spent on excess shipping costs is a dollar not invested in education, infrastructure, or the energy transition. It’s an invisible, regressive tax—one that disproportionately affects low-income households and island territories.

The Lobby That Stifles Debate

Why has the Jones Act survived a century of criticism? Because its beneficiaries are concentrated and its losers are scattered. This is the classic case of the logic of organized interests described by Mancur Olson: a few shipowners and shipyards invest heavily in lobbying, while the 330 million consumers who foot the bill aren’t even aware of it.

The result? A law that no one defends on intellectual grounds but that no one can repeal politically.

The Reform Option

Instead of a 60-day waiver, Trump could have proposed a structural reform of the Jones Act. This would have maintained the requirements for U.S. flag and U.S. crew, while relaxing the domestic-build requirement—the most costly and hardest-to-justify provision by 2026.

This approach would have protected seafarers’ jobs while allowing U.S. shipowners to acquire modern, competitive vessels on the global market. It would have reduced transportation costs without sacrificing operational sovereignty.

Why it didn’t happen

Because reforming the Jones Act requires going through Congress. And in Congress, senators from states with shipyards—Mississippi, Louisiana, Virginia—defend this law as one would defend a besieged fortress. No president, of any party, has managed to build a coalition large enough to reform the Jones Act in a century.

The waiver by executive order is therefore an admission of legislative impotence disguised as a show of strength.

Produce More, Transport Less — The American Absurdity

The United States produces about 13 million barrels of oil per day. That’s a historic record. It’s more than Saudi Arabia. More than Russia. And yet, faced with a supply crisis, Washington’s first response is to change the rules governing transportation, not those governing production.

This speaks volumes about the true nature of the problem. America does not lack oil. It lacks the logistical infrastructure to move it. It is a problem of pipelines, not geology. And pipelines, unlike oil fields, are a political choice.

Energy as a Geopolitical Adjustment Variable

What is striking about this sequence of events is the speed with which energy is once again becoming a diplomatic weapon. Trump cites the ten tankers that Iran allowed to pass through the Strait of Hormuz as a gesture of good faith. Translation: oil is not a commodity—it is a bargaining chip between powers.

And the Jones Act, from this perspective, is not a trade law—it is a strategic liability that America’s adversaries can exploit during every crisis.

A Necessary, but Insufficient, Decision

Should we applaud the suspension of the Jones Act? Yes, insofar as it will—marginally—ease the burden of energy prices on American households. No, insofar as it perpetuates the cycle of constant crisis without ever addressing the root causes.

Trump did what any president in his position would have done. It is neither courageous nor cowardly—it is predictable. And that is precisely the problem. Predictability, in politics, is the polite term for inaction.

What This Story Says About America in 2026

A superpower that cannot transport its own oil along its own coastline without circumventing its own laws is a superpower with an industrial identity crisis. Not a crisis of political will. A crisis of capability.

The Jones Act will probably never be repealed. It will be suspended, again and again, crisis after crisis, decade after decade. And each suspension will be presented as a bold move. When in fact it is nothing more than a repeated admission of failure that no one dares to name.

Sixty days. The clock is ticking. And when it stops, nothing will have changed—except perhaps the price at the pump, which will have dropped just enough for everyone to forget to ask the real question.

Signed, Jacques PJ Provost