Colin Grabow
Days after reports emerged that the Trump administration was considering a waiver of the Jones Act, the White House has now announced a 60-day suspension of the law for the transportation of various energy products and fertilizer. Several observations are in order.
First, the waiver will provide needed economic relief. Suspending the Jones Act greatly expands the number of vessels available to transport energy and fertilizer within the United States. Among oceangoing dry bulk vessels ideally suited for transporting fertilizer, not a single one complies with the law. Similarly, only one liquefied natural gas tanker meets Jones Act requirements, and that vessel is foreign-built and restricted to serving Puerto Rico under a special exemption. Of oil tankers, just 54 are Jones Act-compliant, a tiny fraction of the nearly 7,500 that operate globally.
In short, the waiver unlocks access to a vastly larger fleet at a time when flexibility is critical. Expanding supply, increasing options, and eliminating the need for inefficient shipping workarounds are exactly what is needed during periods of economic stress.
Second, the administration’s action further confirms that the Jones Act is a supply chain impediment. In announcing the waiver, Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt framed it as part of a broader effort to strengthen US supply chains. But the need to suspend the law to achieve that goal is telling. If the Jones Act is a pillar of economic and national security as its defenders commonly claim, why is it being waived when pressure on the country is mounting?
It all fits within a broader pattern of failure. Jones Act defenders argue that the law sustains a robust domestic shipbuilding industry, yet US shipyards account for only a tiny fraction of global output. A 2025 government report described the sector as being in a state of “near total collapse.” Others claim the law ensures sufficient sealift capacity in times of war. But the number of Jones Act-compliant vessels—hampered by extraordinarily high construction costs—has more than halved since 1980. Even among those that remain, military officials have expressed reluctance to rely on them given the economic disruption doing so would entail.
A policy that imposes high costs in peacetime, is waived as a relief valve in times of crisis, and provides little of its advertised benefits, is difficult to justify on either economic or national security grounds.
That said, the legality of the waiver is not beyond question. Under current law, only waivers requested from the Secretary of Defense can exceed ten days, and those must address an “immediate adverse impact on military operations.” The administration has justified the move as necessary to “mitigate short-term disruptions to the oil market as the US military continues meeting the objectives of Operation Epic Fury.” Whether this satisfies the statutory standard is debatable, and the connection to an “immediate adverse impact” appears tenuous.
This raises a broader concern: even desirable policy outcomes should not come at the expense of the rule of law.
The larger lesson of this episode is straightforward. The waiver will provide real, if temporary, economic benefits. But it also amounts to an implicit acknowledgment that the Jones Act itself is the source of the problem. If the law inflicts economic harm in times of peace and must be set aside when the country is under duress, then it’s not worth having.
Rather than relying on temporary waivers of questionable legality, policymakers should address the root cause. Repealing the Jones Act would remove a longstanding constraint on US supply chains, lower costs for American businesses and consumers, and set the stage for developing a maritime policy that meets the country’s economic and national security needs.