Trump gutted America’s institutional mechanisms for ensuring trade works in the US’s favour and now relies on bilateral wheeling and dealing, which makes a splash but also comes with longer-term weaknesses.
Patrick E. Shea is a senior Lecturer in International Relations and Global Governance at the University of Glasgow.
Cross-posted from The Conversation
The US president, Donald Trump, presided over two major agreements in early December. The Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and Rwanda signed a peace deal initially negotiated in June. At the same ceremony, Trump announced a strategic partnership between the US and the DRC.
The US-DRC agreement grants American companies priority access to the country’s vast mineral wealth. US firms get “right of first offer” on major mining projects. The DRC holds significant reserves of cobalt, copper and lithium.
This caps a remarkable six-month period. Since August, the Trump administration has signed mineral access agreements with Ukraine, Armenia and Azerbaijan, and reportedly Argentina. It has also negotiated bilateral arrangements with Saudi Arabia, Australia, Malaysia, Thailand and Japan.
The pace is striking. Traditional development programmes that secured American economic interests abroad typically took years to negotiate and implement. These deals are happening in weeks.
This isn’t simply Trump putting American economic interests forward. The scramble reveals how far the US has fallen behind China in securing access to critical minerals – and how much of that gap is the US’s own fault.
US presidents have always mixed economic interests with foreign policy. In the 1940s and early 50s, the Marshall Plan rebuilt Europe while opening markets. Cold War development aid created trading partners while dampening communist appeal. So Trump’s transactional style isn’t entirely new.
But the current mineral scramble stems from three converging problems – many of the administration’s own making.
Transactional approach
First, China restricted US access to critical minerals in retaliation for Trump’s tariff policies. Beijing imposed export controls on rare earth elements essential for the US to manufacture semiconductors, batteries and defence systems.
This created immediate supply-chain vulnerabilities. The US lacks domestic sources of these minerals. American tech and defence companies suddenly faced potential shortages with no alternative suppliers readily available.
Initially, this vulnerability may not have concerned Trump. During his first term, critical minerals weren’t a foreign policy priority. The 2017 national security strategy didn’t mention them. These materials were associated primarily with the green energy transition, a policy area Trump actively opposed.
But the rapid development of artificial intelligence changed the calculation. Training large AI models requires massive data centres. These facilities depend on advanced cooling systems, high-efficiency motors and power systems that use rare-earth elements now restricted by China.
Critical mineral access had become a strategic imperative for the US. Trump’s November 2025 national security strategy explicitly prioritises “securing access to critical supply chains and materials”. This shift coincides with the second problem: the tech sector’s growing influence over American politics. Major tech companies have secured unprecedented access to policymaking and dramatically increased their lobbying since ChatGPT first launched in late 2022.
Whether these mineral deals actually benefit the US as a whole remains unclear. The scramble treats mineral access as a zero-sum competition with China rather than a challenge that could be managed through international coordination. In addition, these rushed agreements may serve AI companies’ short-term needs without creating long term supply chain security.
The third problem for US foreign policy is the US gutted its institutional capacity for securing overseas investments. The United States Agency for International Development (USAID) traditionally ran programmes that built state capacity in developing countries. These initiatives trained civil servants, developed regulatory frameworks and established procurement systems.
My research shows how programmes facilitated US investments. When countries had functioning land registries, clear property rights and professional bureaucracies, US companies could invest with confidence.
Trump froze USAID operations in January 2025. Without these institutions, the US can no longer build the governance frameworks that make American investment feasible. Instead, the administration must negotiate explicit access provisions in each bilateral deal.
The pace of recent deals reflects US’s desperate attempts to catch up with China. Whether the US can catch up will have to be evaluated, but there are several reasons to be sceptical of the benefits of the deals that have already been signed.
The DRC agreement illustrates the limitations of this approach. It promises US support for “protection of critical infrastructure” and “safeguarding territorial integrity”. But it offers little detail on how these commitments will be delivered.
Fighting between M23 rebels and DRC forces has continued even as the agreements were announced. The US lacks the institutional capacity to coordinate effective security cooperation. USAID programmes that would have built state capacity and investment safeguards no longer exist. The State Department offices that would implement security assistance have been hollowed out.
The agreement promises to establish “streamlined permitting processes” for US investors in the mining sector. But it’s unclear how investor disputes will be resolved or how American access will remain secure if political circumstances change.
Attention span
Trump’s track record further undermines these arrangements. His pattern of abandoning both promises and threats makes any commitment less credible. Investors understand this. When Trump threatened comprehensive sanctions against Russia in July 2025, Russian markets rallied rather than panicked.
Compare this to the institutional approach. USAID programmes built genuine state capacity over the years. Countries became better able to manage resources, enforce contracts and maintain stability. That created lasting conditions favourable to American investment while also supporting local development.
Without institutional backing, these mineral deals rely entirely on continued presidential attention and goodwill. My research shows that credible economic commitments require a robust diplomatic and bureaucratic apparatus. Trump has undermined this infrastructure.
If the US wants to secure critical mineral supplies effectively, reversing course would be necessary. Reinstating development agencies and rebuilding diplomatic capacity would serve American interests far better than serial bilateral bargaining.
But that would require patience and institutional investment. Trump’s approach offers neither. The US has fallen behind in the race for critical minerals. These rushed deals may provide short-term access. But they cannot create the stable, long-term supply chains American tech and defence industries actually need.
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