In the rolling fields of Avon, South Dakota, Tanner Hento watches as his autonomous tractor glides across the land, planting soybeans and dispensing fertilizer with precision. While the technology allows him to step away from the cab, it hasn’t freed him from the mental burden of trade war uncertainty.
“I hit start, walk away, and six hours later it’s done,” Hento says. “But I spend those hours buried in spreadsheets, trying to figure out what these tariffs mean for my future.”
Hento, like many Midwest farmers, finds himself on the frontline of a global economic clash as President Donald Trump’s aggressive tariff strategy reshapes international trade. Nearly half of the soybeans grown in the U.S. are exported—and a third go to China. That once-reliable lifeline is now strained.
“We’ve hit the iceberg,” Hento says, likening the tariffs to the Titanic disaster. “And we’re two hours from sinking.”
Farmers rely heavily on exports and foreign-sourced agricultural chemicals. Now, rising costs and falling commodity prices threaten their already thin margins. Despite the looming crisis, some, like Hento, remain cautiously optimistic that the short-term pain may result in long-term trade wins.
That hope echoes across South Dakota, where agriculture underpins both the economy and identity. In Mitchell, a town famed for its Corn Palace and emerging $500 million soybean processing plant, the stakes are high. “It’s the largest value-added ag project in state history,” says Mike Lauritsen, CEO of the Mitchell Area Development Corporation. Yet, soybean prices are dipping, and Canadian tourist visits—a vital source of revenue—are in question.
More than 10% of the state’s economy hinges on exports, with Canada and China as top partners. The concern runs deeper in Pierre, where state representative and economist Erik Muckey warns of economic catastrophe. “Tariffs have historically devastated economies,” he says. “If these stay in place, the damage could rival anything we’ve seen in a century.”
Still, in a state dominated by Republican politics, criticism of Trump’s trade agenda is subdued. No Democrat holds senior office, though the state’s national influence is rising. Former governor Kristi Noem serves as Homeland Security Secretary, while Senator John Thune now ranks as the most powerful member of the U.S. Senate.
Yet, this visibility may invite retaliation. In Trump’s previous term, countries targeted exports from political power centers like Mitch McConnell’s Kentucky bourbon. Now, with Thune in the spotlight, South Dakota agriculture could become a strategic target.
Farmers like Scott VanderWal already feel the pressure. Sitting in his truck outside an ethanol plant, he laments missed opportunities. “We should’ve sold a month ago,” he says. Prices for corn and soybeans are slipping below profitability.
“China buys a lot of soybeans,” VanderWal says. “We need that market back.”
As the trade war deepens, South Dakota farmers remain caught in a precarious place—between faith in a future payoff and the very real threat of financial collapse.
