As 2025 draws to a close, the American heartland is bracing for a wave of economic pain that’s rippling from factory floors to dinner tables—and there’s no sign the storm will let up soon. The latest blows: Tyson Foods, the nation’s largest meat supplier, is shuttering its Lexington, Nebraska beef plant in January 2026, axing more than 3,200 jobs and slicing nearly 5% from the country’s daily beef processing capacity. At the same time, Tyson’s Amarillo, Texas facility will cut 1,700 positions, deepening the sense of crisis in communities already reeling from a historic cattle shortage and mounting financial losses.
For Lexington, a town of just 11,000, Tyson’s announcement is nothing short of seismic. The plant—an economic anchor since 1990—helped double the town’s population and provided steady employment for generations of Somali and Hispanic immigrant families. Now, with a third of the local workforce set to vanish, the aftershocks are expected to reverberate far beyond the factory gates. According to a Tyson press release cited by AP/Reuters, Lexington faces an annual payroll loss estimated between $150 million and $200 million. Economists warn that the ripple effects could indirectly hit as many as 9,600 residents, threatening the viability of schools, essential services, and local businesses as families are forced to relocate in search of work.
“The plant simply wasn’t competitive in today’s market in terms of output per worker,” said Ernie Goss, an economist at Creighton University, in comments reported by AP/Reuters. Tyson CEO Donnie King echoed that assessment, acknowledging, “the beef segment remains our only soft spot,” even as the company’s chicken operations remain profitable. In fiscal year 2025, Tyson’s beef division hemorrhaged $426 million, a sharp increase from the $291 million lost the year prior. The culprit? Cattle costs surged by nearly $2 billion, while retail beef prices soared 17% year-over-year and sales volumes tumbled 8%.
The roots of this crisis run deep. U.S. cattle inventory has plunged to its lowest level in 70 to 75 years, with the national beef herd standing at just 27.8 million head in 2025, according to USDA Livestock Reports. Years of drought and spiraling feed costs forced ranchers to liquidate herds faster than they could rebuild. Even as some try to retain heifers for breeding, the slow pace of herd recovery—cattle require two years to reach market weight—means the supply crunch will persist. With fewer plants buying cattle, ranchers face reduced competition and greater uncertainty, even as consumers continue to pay record-high beef prices at the grocery store.
But the cattle shortage is only one piece of the puzzle. According to Tyson’s official statements and industry coverage by Reuters, trade policy has played a decisive role. Tariffs imposed by the Trump administration from April through November 2025 restricted beef imports and squeezed processor margins. When those tariffs were abruptly lifted on November 13, foreign competition—especially from Brazil, which now accounts for 24% of U.S. beef imports—flooded the market. All the while, Tyson and its rivals faced ongoing regulatory uncertainty, with the U.S. Department of Justice investigating alleged price-fixing across the meatpacking industry.
The timing of Tyson’s decision—announced on November 21, just before the January presidential transition—reflects a volatile mix of operational and political pressures. As industry experts told Reuters, both tariff volatility and trade competition accelerated Tyson’s move to consolidate its operations. The company says it will boost production at other facilities, but has yet to specify where or when. New packing plants in North Platte, Nebraska, and Wright City, Missouri, may eventually absorb some excess demand, but for now, the closure represents both a symptom and a catalyst of structural upheaval in the U.S. beef supply chain.
Meanwhile, the broader manufacturing sector is caught in its own downward spiral. Tariffs, once billed as a tool to protect American jobs, have instead triggered widespread layoffs and rising consumer costs. As Michael J. Hicks, director of the Center for Business and Economic Research at Ball State University, argued in a recent commentary published by the Indianapolis Star, “All of this is because of tariffs, and Trump along with his enablers in Congress are solely and completely responsible.”
Since the so-called Liberation Day on April 2, 2025, when tariffs took full effect, the economic fallout has been swift. Inflation, which had dropped from 3% in January to 2.3% in April, reversed course and began climbing again. The Consumer Price Index hit an all-time high by December, and the year-over-year change in prices surpassed levels seen at Trump’s re-election. American firms tried to cushion the blow by stockpiling nearly five months of intermediate goods before tariffs kicked in, but with inventories now depleted, consumers are seeing the full impact on store shelves. “The inevitable higher prices are just now appearing on shelves of grocers, as well as other retailers and online marketplaces,” Hicks noted.
The manufacturing job market tells a grim story. Employment in manufacturing and mining sectors dropped by 72,000 jobs since April, with temporary manufacturing employment down by 97,000. Help wanted ads for manufacturing workers have plunged almost 40% since April, nearing the lows of the COVID-19 pandemic in June 2020. The first nine months of Trump’s presidency saw factory job openings plummet by more than 100,000 positions—a stark contrast to the 48,000-job increase during Biden’s term, according to Hicks’ analysis of public labor data.
Ontario, Canada, isn’t faring much better. As the Toronto Sun reported, Algoma Steel announced just before Christmas that it would lay off 1,000 workers—over a third of its workforce—due to U.S. tariffs. That brings the estimated manufacturing job losses in Ontario to 41,000 for the year. Holsag Furniture in Lindsay, Ontario, is laying off over 130 workers and shifting operations to the U.S., while General Motors cut the third shift at its Oshawa plant. The economic pain is widespread, and the political response has been lackluster. Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney, when pressed about his talks with President Trump, dismissed the issue, saying, “Who cares? I mean, it’s a detail. It’s a detail. I spoke to him. I’ll speak to him again when it matters.” Yet for thousands of workers facing layoffs, the timing couldn’t be more urgent.
With the U.S. unemployment rate now at its highest in four years and household budgets stretched thin by rising food and goods prices, the sense of unease is palpable. The stock market may be buoyed by a handful of artificial intelligence giants, but for many Americans, the promised benefits of protectionist policies remain out of reach. As Lexington’s experience shows, the fallout from industry upheaval is not just a matter of lost jobs, but a fundamental challenge to the stability and future of entire communities.
As the dust settles, the question remains: will policymakers adapt in time to stem the tide—or will more towns like Lexington become cautionary tales in the annals of American economic history?
