This morning’s announcement that Nvidia and AMD will resume selling AI chips to China on the condition that they surrender 15% of their revenue from those sales to the U.S. government marks a jarring inflection point in American industrial policy.
This is not just a transaction workaround for a particular situation. This is a major philosophical government policy shift.
What was once a matter of national security has now somehow become a transactional arrangement that is essentially a pay-to-export policy that blurs the line between protective regulation and economic extortion.
The deal, reportedly brokered after Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang met with President Trump, allows the companies to sell their H20 and MI308 chips in China, a market that previously accounted for billions in revenue.
There were two immediate responses from two former officials and trade experts who voiced strong concerns. Christopher Padilla, former head of the Commerce Department’s International Trade Administration, called the deal “astonishing,” likening it to “a mix of bribery and blackmail” and warning it may be “possibly illegal” and Peter Harrell, a fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, said the arrangement sets a “terrible precedent,” noting that national security export controls should not be relaxed in exchange for financial concessions
The unintended consequences of a government policy are unknown, and the potential cost of access is steep, not just financially, but philosophically. This arrangement contradicts the very principles Republicans have long championed: free enterprise, limited government interference, and a clear separation between national security and commercial interest.
History provides some lessons.
Consider the Jackson-Vanik Amendment of 1974, which tied trade relations with the Soviet Union to human rights benchmarks, particularly the freedom of emigration for Soviet Jews. It was a moral stand, using trade as leverage to promote democratic values. But it was also transparent, legislated, and principled—even if imperfect.
Today’s chip deal with China lacks that moral clarity. It’s not about human rights or democratic norms. It’s about money. The 15% levy isn’t a tariff, a sanction, or a strategic investment. It’s effectively just a tax on corporations. And unlike Jackson-Vanik, it wasn’t debated in Congress or anchored in law. It was brokered behind closed doors, with the executive branch acting as both regulator and beneficiary.
This blurring of roles recalls the worst instincts of economic policy, where governments extracted rents from private enterprise under the guise of national interest. It also evokes the “crony capitalism” of post-Soviet Russia, where access to markets was contingent on political favor and financial tribute.
This policy sets a dangerous precedent by monetizing export permissions, effectively transforming the federal government into a tax collector on global commerce. It’s a dangerous slope. If the U.S. can demand a revenue cut for chip sales to China, what stops it from doing the same for pharmaceuticals to Europe, or software to Latin America? The logic of national security becomes a flexible pretext for economic leverage, and the private sector is left navigating a landscape where policy is shaped not by principle, but by deal-making.
This isn't an industrial strategy, but essentially it's economic policy to the highest bidder. And it sends a troubling signal to allies and adversaries alike: that American innovation is for sale, and its gatekeeper is no longer Congress or the Constitution, but the highest bidder in the West Wing.
If Congress is serious about reshoring supply chains, protecting intellectual property, and countering China’s techno-authoritarianism, then it must reject this ad hoc monetization of policy. True industrial strategy requires coherence, transparency, and a commitment to long-term national interest, not short-term revenue schemes. This should be embraced by Democrats and Republicans alike. Otherwise, we risk becoming the very system we claim to oppose: one where power is transactional, markets are politicized, and innovation is hostage to the whims of the state.
David Nevins is co-publisher of The Fulcrum and co-founder and board chairman of the Bridge Alliance Education Fund.
