This isn’t free-market fluctuation. It’s deliberate interference. And it’s forcing local businesses to delay plans, cut jobs, or—more quietly—close the doors.
“It’s a tax, plain and simple. And we didn’t vote for it.”
That’s what Rep. Chris Pappas told a town hall in Portsmouth. He’s been one of the few Democrats pushing hard against the tariffs, calling them “executive overreach masquerading as economic strategy.”
Senator Jeanne Shaheen took it further. Her bill to rein in the president’s unilateral tariff power stalled in March—but not before she pointed out that New Hampshire gets half its fuel from Canada. “You want to heat your home this winter?” she asked. “You’re paying extra, thanks to a trade war we didn’t start.”
And the anger isn’t partisan anymore. Susan Collins crossed the aisle to oppose the Canadian tariffs outright. Even in Trump-friendly districts, the backlash is building. Small-town conservatives who once cheered “America First” are now asking what’s left when the shelves empty out and the tourists stop coming.
“We’re being treated like collateral damage.”
Annie Watson didn’t vote for Trump, but she didn’t expect him to bankrupt her either. Her dairy farm near Farmington relies on Canadian grain—there’s no local supplier who can match the volume or price. Now, feed costs are up $100 a ton. That might not sound like much—unless you’re feeding 170 cows. Every single day.
“It’s not even about profit anymore,” she said. “It’s about survival.”
Across Maine, blueberry growers are in the same boat. Their crops get processed in regional plants that also handle Canadian berries. Without that volume, the processors shut down. Without processors, berries rot in the field. The whole system falls apart. And for what? A chest-thumping soundbite about winning?
The same story repeats in the breweries. Cans are up. Hops are harder to get. Equipment is stalled at customs. Breweries are stuck choosing between price hikes and pink slips. “It’s a lose-lose,” said one brewer in Portland. “And we’re not China’s enemy—we’re just trying to sell beer.”
“They said punish China. They didn’t say destroy Main Street.”
No one voted for this. Not explicitly. But here it is: a trade policy that treats Maine and New Hampshire like expendable pawns in a game they didn’t ask to join. From Portsmouth car dealerships to Bangor’s Foreign Trade Zone, businesses are scrambling to rewrite the rules on the fly. They’re storing aluminum cans in warehouses, begging for import delays, mapping out fallback suppliers in states that don’t exist.
Even the tourism offices are pivoting. Canadian visits to Maine are projected to drop by 25% this year. That’s hundreds of thousands of people who won’t be buying gas, staying in inns, or eating their way through coastal towns. Old Orchard Beach is preparing for a brutal summer. Bar Harbor merchants are talking about “The Quiet Season”—and they don’t mean fall.
What’s left? Quiet desperation. Cross-border communities with invisible barriers. Products no one can afford to make. Empty ferry seats.
“We’ll weather it. But we shouldn’t have to.”