April 19, 2025
A final note in a four-part series on tariffs, markets, and the stories we tell ourselves
Over the last few days, we’ve walked through the story of tariffs, market reactions, and the quiet structural issues that existed long before any one person took office. We’ve looked at how the market absorbs policy—and how tone and timing shape what investors feel.
Today, we’re closing this out with something that sits underneath all of it: tone, trust, and the way stories are told.
Same Facts, Different Feeling
Let’s return to the tariffs for a moment. In 2025, the Biden administration announced a new round of tariffs. They weren’t small. A 50% tariff on Chinese semiconductors. A 25% tariff on lithium-ion batteries. There were increases on solar panels and targeted metals, too.
These actions were real. They affected sectors with real consequences for the economy.
Markets barely moved.
A few months later, the Trump administration announced sweeping tariffs of its own: 10% on all imports and 125% on Chinese goods. The numbers were bigger, yes. But so was the energy. The tone suggested escalation. Headlines echoed with urgency.
The market dropped 12% in four days.
Some of that was about substance. A lot of it wasn’t.
Tone Is a Trigger
A steady tone says, we’re managing this.
A volatile tone says, brace yourself.
The policies may have been similar in spirit—focused on protecting domestic industries—but the way they were delivered shaped the way they were received. That’s where headlines and media come in. Not all bias is political. Sometimes, it’s emotional. Sometimes, it’s just volume.
A calm story might not get the click. A dramatic one will.
Even when the facts are straightforward, the frame can tilt the entire experience. We start to feel like we’re in crisis—even when the data says we’re not.
Tone Is Also Personal
There is a book I once found on Emily’s shelf called What to Say When and Why. It’s the kind of book that quietly shapes how someone delivers a message—thoughtfully, at the right time, in the right tone.
I didn’t grow up with that book.
For some of us, tone is instinctive. For others, it’s shaped by how we were raised, what we needed to survive, or how we learned to be understood. Some people hear directness and feel clarity. Others hear it and feel suspicion.
That isn’t a failure in communication. It’s human nature.
Tone doesn’t just affect how policy lands. It affects how we trust.
Which is why, especially in moments of noise, it helps to notice not only what’s being said, but how we’re hearing it—and whether our reaction is to the message, or the messenger.
The Role of AI
We’ve talked this week about how large language models don’t experience time. They don’t feel urgency. They don’t weigh what’s past or anticipate what might come. They reflect patterns. They repeat what gets attention.
When we rely on these tools—whether for headlines or commentary—we’re often consuming a story that was built to be fast, not thoughtful. The facts may be accurate. The emotional tone may be borrowed.
Which means our job is to remember: just because something feels urgent doesn’t always mean it is.
The Bias Toward Panic
There’s one last kind of bias that rarely gets mentioned: the bias toward panic.
It’s subtle. It sounds like, this is unprecedented, or this time is different, or everything is breaking. In the moment, it can feel like clarity. But often, it’s just volume. It’s the weight of too many inputs without a moment to breathe.
And it’s the reason even long-term investors, even seasoned professionals, feel the pull to react.
Closing the Loop
Being thoughtful in today’s world doesn’t mean tuning out. It means tuning in—just a little slower. A little quieter.
It means asking, What’s actually happening here?
It means recognizing that the loudest story may not be the most accurate.
It means trusting our own tone, not just reacting to someone else’s.
Because the economy is noisy. The markets are fast. But clarity—the kind that guides well over time—usually moves slower. And often speaks in a softer voice.
Lauren
The most important thing in my life is my family. My husband, Andrew, and our three smart and brave daughters.