{{Firstname|Good morning}}, this week we look at Mexico’s new tariff shock and what it means for nearshoring and North American supply chains, the growing risk of a ground conflict in Venezuela and its impact on refugees and energy markets, and the Posadas season at the border as a reminder of hope, dignity, and refuge in a tense political moment.

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Mexico just approved a sweeping package of new tariffs that can reach fifty percent on more than 1,400 products from countries without trade agreements, with China at the center of the debate. Autos, steel, plastics, textiles, and appliances are all on the list, with lawmakers arguing this will protect local industry and raise billions in revenue.

For Washington, the move lands in the middle of the coming United States Mexico Canada Agreement review, where the United States is pressing partners to reduce dependence on Chinese supply chains for cars, electronics, and critical inputs. For Beijing, it is a clear signal that Mexico is edging closer to the North American camp.

In the short term, Mexican manufacturers gain breathing room, while companies that used Mexico as a convenient bridge for Chinese goods into the United States face higher costs and hard relocation decisions. Consumers in both countries will see some price pressure, especially on vehicles and household goods.

From where I sit, working on projects like SouthBridge in Nogales and a cobalt facility in Yuma, there are two key lessons. Tariffs can redirect trade flows, but they do not pour concrete, build substations, or modernize ports of entry. That still requires patient capital, reliable energy, and clear, predictable rules. And as North America becomes a more explicitly strategic production platform, communities that prepare sites and infrastructure now will capture the upside. Those that wait will simply import the higher prices.

Step by step, the United States has moved closer to a direct confrontation with Venezuela’s Maduro government. A growing military presence in the Caribbean, framed as counternarcotics operations, includes more war ships and advanced aircraft operating near Venezuelan waters and airspace. At the same time, Washington has tightened sanctions, seized oil shipments, and sharpened its rhetoric about regime change.

Supporters of a tougher line argue that Maduro runs a criminalized state that fuels drug trafficking, corruption, and regional instability. They see maximum pressure as the only way to support democratic forces and deter other authoritarian regimes in the hemisphere.

But the risks are enormous. A misstep at sea or in the air could spark a wider conflict. Any ground operation, even limited, would likely unleash a new wave of refugees across South America and toward the United States border, strain already fragile neighbors, and lock Washington into a long and expensive stabilization effort. Analysts remind us that removing a regime is the easy part. Rebuilding institutions and security afterward is where nations pay the real price.

From my border and national security experience, I know that decisions like this land hardest on ports of entry, asylum systems, and local communities that never sit at the strategy table. If there is going to be a power move in Venezuela, it must include a serious regional plan for refugees, energy markets, and reconstruction, not just a show of force. Otherwise we risk trading one form of chaos for another, and once again asking border communities to absorb the shock.

Every December, border communities come alive with Las Posadas, a nine night celebration from December 16 through Christmas Eve that reenacts Mary and Joseph’s search for shelter. Neighbors walk from house to house with candles and song, some outside as pilgrims, others inside as innkeepers, until one door finally opens and everyone is welcomed in for prayer, food, and celebration.

Along the United States Mexico border, Posadas is more than a religious tradition. It is a living lesson in hospitality, community, and dignity. Children carry star shaped piñatas, elders lead the verses, and in some places people on each side of the line answer one another’s songs through the steel of the border fence.

I grew up seeing Posadas as a reminder that our identity is shaped not only by what we fear, but by whom we are willing to let in. The story of a young family turned away again and again, until someone finally makes room, speaks directly to today’s immigration debate.

In a season when the headlines focus on enforcement, deportations, and political theater, Posadas asks different questions. How do we balance order and compassion. What does it mean for policy to reflect the values we celebrate in our streets and churches.

For those of us working in policy, business, and civic life, this tradition is a yearly invitation. Behind every statistic is a family knocking on a door. The choices we make will decide whether they find a wall, or a community willing to open space at the inn.

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