Publisher’s Editorial

Trump’s Cowboy Diplomacy — From the Foothills to Washington

By Cris Alarcon

I’ve been thinking about cowboys.

Not the Hollywood cowboy.

Not the guy riding into town with a white hat, six-shooter on his hip and a bad attitude looking for somebody to shoot.

I’m talking about the cowboy I grew up understanding.

The real one.

The man who gets up early, looks at the sky, checks the fence and figures out what needs doing before breakfast.

I’ve lived enough years in the foothills to develop a healthy suspicion of people who make simple things sound complicated.

Out here, if the fence is down, you don’t appoint a committee to study the fence.

You fix it.

If the road washes out, you don’t hold a seminar on the philosophical implications of mud.

You get a shovel.

And if somebody keeps driving through your pasture after you’ve told him not to, eventually the conversation changes.

That brings me to the phrase I’ve heard thrown around for years:

“Cowboy diplomacy.”

It is usually intended as an insult.

The implication is that somebody is reckless, crude, impulsive or too stubborn to understand the refined language of international affairs.

I’ve always wondered how many people using the expression have actually spent much time around cowboys.

Because the real cowboy I know is usually pretty deliberate.

He doesn’t waste words.

He watches.

He listens.

He knows that a horse can hurt you and a steer can kill you.

He also knows that the weather doesn’t care about your opinion.

You learn to think before you act.

But you learn something else, too:

You don’t let yourself get pushed around.

That distinction has been on my mind while watching the continuing argument over President Donald Trump’s approach to foreign policy, trade and the use of American economic power.

There is plenty to criticize.

There is plenty to defend.

And there is plenty that deserves something increasingly rare in Washington:

an honest examination of results.

Not slogans.

Not cable-news theatrics.

Results.

Washington Is a Long Way From the Foothills

Living up here changes your perspective.

El Dorado County is close enough to Sacramento that state policy can reach us before the ink is dry.

But we’re far enough away to know that the people writing those policies don’t necessarily understand what it means when the rule lands on your doorstep.

I’ve spent years watching local government.

I’ve sat through Board of Supervisors meetings.

I’ve watched residents walk into those chambers carrying concerns about taxes, land use, public safety, roads, development, and the ever-expanding reach of government.

Our Board of Supervisors is not Washington.

It isn’t Sacramento.

It is five elected people dealing with the practical consequences of decisions made for people who actually live here. The Board adopts the county budget, sets local policy and governs land-use matters in the unincorporated areas.

And that difference matters.

Because government looks very different from the other side of the counter.

From Washington, a tariff can be a negotiating instrument.

From Sacramento, a regulation can be an environmental safeguard.

From Placerville, it can be the added cost of keeping the doors open.

From a rancher’s driveway, it can be another requirement he has to comply with before he can repair something he’s owned for decades.

That’s the part politicians routinely forget.

Policies don’t live on paper, they live on people’s shoulders.

The Federal Government Comes to Dinner

Washington can feel very far away when you’re sitting in the foothills.

Until the federal government changes something.

Then Washington comes right through the front door.

Federal tax policy affects household budgets.

Interest rates affect mortgages.

Trade policy affects the price of equipment, building materials and manufactured goods.

Immigration policy affects labor markets and agriculture.

Energy policy affects transportation and utility costs.

Federal spending affects programs administered locally.

And when Washington changes course, El Dorado County doesn’t get to vote on whether the consequences arrive.

We get the bill.

The county’s own budget documents recognize that state budget decisions affect local finances. The Board’s 2025-26 adopted budget, for example, was adjusted to account for state budget impacts and other changing fiscal conditions.

That’s government from the ground up.

And it is why I have never been particularly impressed by politicians who talk about government as though it were an abstraction.

Government isn’t an abstraction.

It’s the guy standing at the gas pump.

It’s the woman trying to keep a small business alive.

It’s the contractor pricing a job.

It’s the homeowner trying to maintain his property.

It’s the farmer buying equipment.

It’s the taxpayer looking at the county budget and wondering where the money went.

So What About Trump’s Cowboy Diplomacy?

Here’s where I depart from the easy argument.

Calling something “cowboy diplomacy” doesn’t tell us whether it is good policy.

It tells us somebody doesn’t like the style.

That’s not enough.

Trump’s administration has used tariffs and other economic measures as instruments of trade and foreign policy. California officials have strongly opposed those policies and have pursued litigation over the federal government’s authority to impose certain tariffs.

That’s a legitimate political and legal dispute.

But there is another question that doesn’t get nearly as much attention:

What is the objective?

That’s the question I would ask sitting in a Board of Supervisors meeting.

Not, “Did I like the presentation?”

Not, “Did the speaker use the right words?”

Not, “Did somebody on television call it historic?”

What are we trying to accomplish?

And when we’re finished, did we accomplish it?

That’s how I tend to look at government.

Maybe because I’m from the foothills.

Maybe because I’ve watched enough meetings to know that a beautifully written government document doesn’t necessarily mean anything changed for the person sitting in the audience.

The Cowboy Understands Leverage

A cowboy understands leverage.

So does anybody who has ever negotiated the price of a truck, bought livestock, or tried to get a contractor to finish a job.

You don’t give away everything before negotiations begin.

You establish what you want.

You establish what you’re willing to give.

And you make sure the other party understands that you have alternatives.

That’s negotiation.

Whether tariffs are the right tool in a particular circumstance is a separate question.

They can create costs and disruptions. California’s enormous trade exposure means federal trade policy can have consequences far beyond the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach. California’s own government has argued that tariffs have raised costs and disrupted supply chains, while simultaneously pointing to the state’s continued economic growth.

Those competing facts are important.

California’s economy is enormous.

It is also complicated.

And El Dorado County is not Silicon Valley.

We’re not Los Angeles.

We’re not Sacramento.

Our economy has its own mixture of small businesses, tourism, agriculture, construction, public-sector employment and the thousands of ordinary economic transactions that don’t show up in a governor’s press release.

A change in the price of steel can eventually become somebody’s construction estimate.

A change in fuel prices can become somebody’s delivery charge.

A change in tourism can become somebody’s lost job.

A change in federal funding can eventually become a county budget problem, a loss of a planned Health or Law enforcement building.

That’s how Washington reaches the foothills.

Not with a marching band.

With a bill.

Sacramento Has Its Own Cowboy Problem

And before Sacramento gets too comfortable criticizing Washington, perhaps we should look in our own backyard.

California’s state government has its own habit of believing that another regulation will solve another problem.

Sometimes it does.

Sometimes it doesn’t.

The state’s leaders point to California’s enormous economy and strong recent growth as evidence that the state’s economic model continues to perform.

Fair enough but a strong economy in Los Angeles does not necessarily mean a strong economy in the rural areas like El Dorado County.

A strong economy in the cities doesn’t mean every regulation is wise.

And criticism of government doesn’t mean government is always wrong.

Both things can be true.

That’s something I’ve learned from watching local politics:

You can believe government has a legitimate job without believing government should have every job.

That distinction gets lost in Sacramento and Washington.

And sometimes, frankly, it gets lost right here at home.

The Board of Supervisors Is Where Theory Meets Reality

This is why local government matters so much to me.

I’ve spent years paying attention to the Board of Supervisors because that’s where political theory eventually meets somebody’s driveway.

A decision made in Placerville can determine whether a property owner can do something with his land.

A budget decision can determine whether a county department has the resources to do its job.

A public-safety decision can affect whether a sheriff’s deputy has what he needs.

An increased Sales Tax rate can increase all of our personal cost it can also trigger shoppers to look to buy in places with lower tax rates in order to save on costs.  That can reduce sales to local merchants across the board.

A development decision can change a neighborhood forever.

And unlike Washington, you can actually walk into the building and talk to the people making the decision.

That matters.

I’ve always believed that government works best when elected officials remember that the people sitting across from them aren’t line items.

They’re neighbors.

They’re taxpayers.

They’re voters.

They’re the people who have to live with the decision after the cameras leave.

That’s why I have never been terribly impressed with political arguments that depend entirely on personality.

I don’t care whether a politician is charming.

I care whether he or she understands the consequences of the decision.

The Cowboy’s Greatest Virtue

The greatest virtue of the cowboy isn’t toughness.

It’s responsibility.

The cowboy knows that if he makes a bad decision, he doesn’t get to blame the horse.

He owns it.

That’s a lesson I’d like to see more of in Washington.

And Sacramento.

And, yes, El Dorado County.

If a policy works, say it worked.

If it failed, say it failed.

If it cost more than expected, admit it.

If it saved money, explain how.

If a federal policy helps our local economy, acknowledge it.

If it hurts our local economy, acknowledge that too.

That’s not partisan.

That’s adult government.

And that’s the kind of government taxpayers deserve.

Keep the Fence

So I return to where I started.

The cowboy.

The real cowboy isn’t looking for a fight.

He’s looking for a day’s work.

He wants the livestock where they’re supposed to be.

He wants the fence standing.

He wants the truck running.

He wants the weather to cooperate, although he knows perfectly well it won’t.

And when trouble comes, he doesn’t panic.

He assesses it.

Then he decides what needs to be done.

There is something deeply American about that.

Not Republican.

Not Democrat.

American.

Stand on your own feet.

Know what belongs to you.

Respect your neighbor.

Keep your word.

Don’t start unnecessary fights.

But don’t mistake peacefulness for surrender.

That’s the cowboy ethic as I understand it.

And maybe that’s why the term “cowboy diplomacy” has always bothered me when it’s used as nothing more than a sneer.

Because if by “cowboy” you mean reckless, then no — I don’t want that.

But if you mean someone who thinks before he acts, understands consequences, knows the value of leverage and refuses to be bullied simply because the other fellow has a louder voice?

Well, I don’t find that particularly offensive.

I’ve lived in the foothills too long for that.

I’ve watched Sacramento.

I’ve watched Washington.

I’ve watched local government.

And I’ve learned that government has an extraordinary ability to make something that should take five minutes require five meetings, three forms and an attorney.

Maybe every once in a while, Washington could use a little less theater and a little more fence fixing.

Because at the end of the day, whether the decision comes from Washington, Sacramento or Placerville, the question remains the same:

Does it work?

That’s the question I intend to keep asking.

Not because I’m a cowboy.

But because I’m a taxpayer.

And because this is my county, too.

Out here, the fence still matters.

And somebody still has to fix it.