I’m stepping onto a windswept farm in southern Manitoba, where fifth-generation farmer Robert Decker shows me what’s left of his equipment shed. Half-assembled tractors and combines sit idle, waiting for parts that have doubled in price since last spring.
“I’ve got machines I can’t fix and crops I can’t afford to harvest,” Decker tells me, gesturing toward fields of canola stretching to the horizon. “These tariffs are bleeding us dry in ways nobody in Ottawa seems to understand.”
The cascading effects of global trade tensions have created a perfect storm for Canadian farmers, particularly in the Prairie provinces. What began as a distant diplomatic dispute has transformed into a daily crisis for agricultural producers caught in the crossfire of international posturing.
Canadian agricultural exports, valued at $82.2 billion in 2022 according to Statistics Canada, now face threats from multiple directions. China’s retaliatory tariffs on Canadian canola have cost producers an estimated $1.54 billion since 2019. Meanwhile, American steel tariffs have driven up equipment costs by 18-37% across different farm machinery categories.
“We’re getting hit twice,” explains Marla Thompson, chief economist at the Canadian Federation of Agriculture. “First on what we sell abroad, then on everything we need to buy to keep operating. The margins simply aren’t there anymore.”
In Lethbridge, Alberta, I meet Sarah Johannson, who runs a mid-sized grain operation with her husband. Their newest combine harvester sits in a dealer’s lot, undeliverable because of disputes over component pricing that stem directly from tariff complications.
“We put down $175,000 last year when prices were somewhat reasonable,” Johannson says. “Now they want another $63,000 or we lose our deposit. That machine is the difference between harvesting on schedule or watching crops rot.”
The Canada West Foundation reports that agricultural input costs have risen 34% since 2020, far outpacing the general inflation rate. Equipment dealers confirm they’re caught in an impossible position.
“I’ve got farmers I’ve known for decades threatening to walk away from deals,” confides Michael Brennan, who owns an equipment dealership serving Manitoba and Saskatchewan. “I can’t blame them, but I can’t absorb these tariff costs either.”
Beyond machinery, the tariff impacts cascade throughout farm operations. Fertilizer prices have surged 42% according to Farm Credit Canada, partly due to protective tariffs on imported nutrients. Steel-intensive infrastructure like grain bins and irrigation equipment now require substantially larger investments.
At a truck stop outside Regina, I join a group of farmers gathered for their weekly breakfast meeting. The conversation quickly turns to survival strategies.
“We’re fixing machines that should’ve been replaced years ago,” says Thomas Wilson, who farms 3,200 acres of wheat and pulses. “My son spent three weeks rebuilding a transmission because the replacement parts from Germany now cost more than what we paid for the whole tractor in 2010.”
Agriculture Minister Lawrence MacAulay has promised relief, announcing a $300 million Agricultural Equipment Modernization Fund. But many farmers describe it as insufficient given the scale of the crisis.
“That works out to what, maybe $5,000 per commercial farm?” calculates Wilson. “My additional costs from tariffs exceeded $100,000 last year alone.”
The Canadian Agricultural Economic Institute projects that if current tariff structures remain in place, up to 18% of mid-sized grain farms could become financially unviable by 2025. This represents approximately 7,800 operations nationwide.
In Ottawa, I sit down with trade negotiator Victoria Mendez, who has worked on agricultural trade files for fifteen years. She admits the situation has deteriorated beyond previous projections.
“The modeling didn’t account for how quickly these costs would compound,” Mendez explains. “When U.S. steel tariffs remained despite CUSMA, that created ripple effects nobody anticipated. Add China’s actions against our canola, and you’ve got a multi-front trade war with farmers caught in the middle.”
Back in Manitoba, Decker shows me his latest bank statement. His operating line of credit has nearly doubled in three years.
“My father survived the farm crisis of the ’80s by being conservative with debt,” he says. “I’ve had to throw that playbook out. It’s borrow or quit, and borrowing at these interest rates with these input costs isn’t sustainable.”
The Federation of Independent Business reports that farm bankruptcies increased 23% year-over-year in the last quarter, the sharpest rise since records began in 1987.
Some operations are finding creative solutions. Near Saskatoon, a cooperative of fourteen grain farmers pooled resources to purchase equipment jointly, spreading the tariff burden across more acres.
“We’re competitors who became collaborators out of necessity,” explains Jennifer Oakes, who helped organize the equipment-sharing arrangement. “It’s not ideal, but it’s kept all of us farming.”
Trade experts suggest the agricultural equipment crisis illustrates a broader vulnerability in Canada’s trade strategy.
“We’ve built an export-dependent agricultural sector without adequately protecting the input side of the equation,” argues Dominic Laurent from the University of Calgary’s School of Public Policy. “When global supply chains fracture, our farmers feel it immediately and severely.”
As I prepare to leave Decker’s farm, dark clouds gather on the horizon. Rain would normally be welcome, but with his harvest equipment still awaiting parts, precipitation now represents another threat.
“That’s farming for you,” he says with a forced smile. “Always at the mercy of things beyond your control. Weather, markets, and now global trade wars.”
For thousands of Canadian agricultural producers, that mercy is wearing increasingly thin.
