Donald Trump wants to reshore American manufacturing, but he wants the U.S. to make tanks, not tees, not socks either

Yesterday, Donald Trump made headlines when he singled out an indispensable item in the typical American wardrobe: the T-shirt. Speaking to reporters before boarding Air Force One in New Jersey to wherever he was going to, he commented on his dream for the reshoring of American manufacturing: “We’re not looking to make sneakers and T-shirts. We want to make military equipment. We want to make big things. We want to make, do the AI thing.” He added emphatically, “I’m not looking to make T-shirts, to be honest. I’m not looking to make socks. We can do that very well in other locations.” Not for Mr Trump, the mundane or the seeming meek. “We are looking to do chips and computers and lots of other things, and tanks and ships.”

The president did not explain his particular choices or why he desired the manufacturer of tanks and ships over the minimal output of T-shirts and socks (and sneakers), even when America already makes tanks and ships for its military (as well as other nations, with which the U.S. enjoys a surplus). Some observers (his fans, really) consider his choice of goods for American production as political rhetoric. But “big” is really the operative word (during his first presidential term, one of his favourite words, if you remember, was “bigly”). Mr Trump has, for a while prioritize goods manufacturing, but now he is emphasizing the bigly tangible: the heavy industries, those that can boast America’s production muscle.

The thinking in this is strangely juvenile. Trump seems to be going back to his childhood play and fantasies, when GI Joe machismo meant having fun with tanks and ships. It is a preoccupation that suggests power, conquest, and large-scale action. The appeal of these machines often lies in their destructive power, speed, and, more bigly, imposing size. However, now “big” isn’t just about physical mass; it is about economic and strategic might, a strength that can be used to show off. This will be borne out by the approaching military parade that Mr Trump wants to stage on his birthday, but under the pretext of honouring the U.S. Army’s 250th anniversary.

This is a a deliberate shift in his America First messaging towards prioritizing specific, high-value sectors. T-shirts and socks, even sneakers, are low on the value-added chain. And they do not have the visible grandeur and potential for national pride as tanks and ships. What is worn typically falls into categories with relatively low barriers to entry, high labor intensity, and commoditised production. Mr Trump is not interested in them, but, rather, what Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent described at a press briefing, hosted by Karoline Leavitt four weeks ago: “the goal here is to bring back high-quality industry jobs to the U.S..” He added, “We do not need to necessarily have a booming textile industry.”

When Mr Trump said that products such as socks can be done “very well in other locations”, we do not think he meant that America is not better at that. He was saying, leave the sock and T-shirt making to the ‘less-advanced’ economies such as China and Vietnam. Let America “make the big things”, which referred to the industries he saw as fitting for a ‘leading’ nation like the United States. The Republican perception he often reflects is that countries such as China and Vietnam, with their lower labor costs, are suited for mass production of basic consumer goods. The implication is that these industries are less sophisticated and do not reflect the kind of conspicuous might America must boast. This perspective is, no doubt, selective and can be seen as looking down on specific industries and the economies that bank on them.

In Mr Trump’s America First posturing, it’s about the manly stuff, such as tanks and ships. But his dismissive attitude towards garment manufacturing is laughable. America did not want to keep those garment factories and the attendant jobs in the first place. Corporations farmed the production out from the mid-’80s (textile even earlier: in the ’70s) to maximise their profit margins. They actively chose to offshore production due primarily to lower labour cost. Those factories were eventually not good enough to be kept in the U.S., but when American brands moved the production of socks and such aboard, the manufacture of those items became the economic pillars of countries such as China and Vietnam.

America,—in particular, the Republican party—probably did not expect China’s rapid industrial evolution. In all likelihood, they thought that zhongguo has not moved out of the era when Americans deigned them good enough to make only T-shirt and socks, never mind they eventually became crucial to Apple’s iPhone immense success (China largely remains the central hub for iPhone assembly and a vast ecosystem of suppliers, even when India is in the picture now). Fellow Republican JD Vance is of the belief that China is a country of “peasants”. This type of rhetoric reinforces the idea that are typical of American politicians, who still view China through a lens of agricultural backwardness rather than as a modern industrial and technological power. And Mr Trump’s rhetoric implied that the making of socks or T-shirts is inherently simple and low-tech. Mr Trump has made a state visit to China in his first term, but it is not clear if he took the opportunity to see how far China had come or the industrial powerhouse it became, one that, ironically, America depended on.

There is double irony in that China took the production of these items that America deemed beneath them and produced some of the best in the world. Their factories were quickly equipped with some of the most advanced technologies on earth. Talking about socks, China is known for their advanced circular knitting tech that allowed brands to stock the many seamless socks we wear these days, affordably. Mr Trump’s rhetoric overlooks the incredible sophistication required for the production of even the simplest garments. Modern textile and apparel manufacturing, particularly in a country like China, is anything but cut and sew. On top of the knitting technology mentioned earlier, Chinese factories are known to be equipped with automated cutting systems, robotic sewing lines, and sophisticated dyeing and finishing equipment, many of which are—Mr Trump may not know—made in China.

By focusing exclusively on “big things” and dismissing consumer staples, the policy overlooks the massive scale and economic strength and significance of the U.S. consumer market. America is, by most reports, unequivocally one of the largest, if not the largest, consumer markets for apparel and footwear in the world. And T-shirts have been crucial to the American fashion identity, as well the key item in the global influence of American streetwear brands such as Supreme and Stüssy. The T-shirt is far more than just a piece of clothing in America; it’s a cultural canvas that go back to the era of James Dean and Marlon Brando, two quintessential figures who cemented the T-shirt’s status as a powerful cultural symbol in the U.S. and beyond, elevating it from mere underwear to a statement of rebellion, cool, and effortless masculinity.

Mr Trump’s unilateral and capricious approach to tariffs may attempt to correct what he saw as trade imbalances (or to address the “cheating” and “bullying” of America), but its subsequent thumbing down of the manufacture of basic fashion goods negates the scale and sophistication of global supply chains and the true depth of industrial evolution that countries like China and Vietnam have achieved. And this manufacturing moxie can be seen in the T-shirts that flood American stores, from Calvin Klein to Gap to Walmart. The humble T-shirt is cultural gravitas and precisely why dismissing the garment as an unimportant or inconsequential fundamentally misunderstands its deep roots in American identity, fashion, and even cinema history. It’s not just a piece of sewn cloth; it is, without doubt, a piece of Americana.

Illustration: Just So