Analysis

Spain’s Economic Endorsement of China Is a Major Trump Rebuke – Could Warmer Ties Between Madrid and Beijing Help Move the EU Closer to China?

Published

2 months ago

April 17, 2026

Six weeks after Trump threatened to sever all trade with Spain, Pedro Sánchez landed in Beijing and signed 19 deals with Xi Jinping. This isn’t diplomacy. It’s Europe’s most consequential economic signal since Italy’s 2019 Belt and Road gamble—and it is reshaping the continent’s strategic calculus.

Stat	Figure
Bilateral Agreements Signed	19
Spain–China Trade (2024)	€44bn+
EU–China Trade Deficit (2024)	€305.8bn
Sánchez Visits to Beijing in 4 Years	4th
US Aircraft Removed from Spanish Bases	15

From Olive Oil to Strategic Dialogue: How Spain Got Here

The Madrid–Beijing Relationship at a Glance

2023: Sánchez’s 1st and 2nd Beijing visits; Spain–China joint statement on “strategic partnership”
Nov 2025: King Felipe VI makes first official royal visit to China
Feb 28, 2026: US–Israel launch Operation Epic Fury against Iran
Mar 2–3, 2026: Spain denies base access; Trump threatens trade embargo
Mar 30, 2026: Spain closes airspace to US military aircraft linked to Iran
Apr 11–15, 2026: Sánchez’s fourth Beijing visit; 19 deals signed

Picture the scene: a crisp Monday morning in Beijing, April 13, 2026, and Pedro Sánchez is standing before 400 students at Tsinghua University—China’s MIT, the incubator of its technological ambitions—making the case for what he calls “a multiplication of poles of power and prosperity.” It was not the language of a supplicant. It was the language of a man who had decided, deliberately and with full political awareness of what Washington would think, to position Spain as a pivot point in the reordering of global trade. Two days later, at the Great Hall of the People, he would sit across from Xi Jinping and sign 19 bilateral agreements, inaugurate a new Strategic Diplomatic Dialogue Mechanism, and declare that China should view Spain and Europe as “partners for investment and cooperation.”

Back in Washington, the memory is still fresh. On March 3, 2026, during an Oval Office meeting with German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, Trump had turned to reporters and delivered one of his most scorching bilateral verdicts: “Spain has been terrible. We’re going to cut off all trade with Spain. We don’t want anything to do with Spain.” The trigger was Spain’s refusal—grounded in its 1988 bilateral defense agreement and the United Nations Charter—to allow the US military to use the jointly operated bases at Rota and Morón de la Frontera for operations linked to Operation Epic Fury against Iran. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent, called upon to validate the threat, confirmed the Supreme Court had reaffirmed Trump’s embargo authority under IEEPA. Within days, Bessent was on Fox News warning that Spain pivoting toward China would be like “cutting your own throat.”

Sánchez’s response, delivered not in a press statement but in the form of a transatlantic flight and a state banquet in Beijing, was the most eloquent rebuttal imaginable. The Spain–China–Trump triangle is not merely a bilateral spat with geopolitical color—it is a stress test for the entire architecture of Western economic alignment, and its outcome will shape EU foreign policy for years to come.

As someone who has covered EU–China summits for over a decade, I have watched Spain’s engagement with Beijing evolve from polite commercial courtesy to something that increasingly resembles strategic conviction. This was Sánchez’s fourth official visit to China in four consecutive years—a cadence that no other major EU leader has matched. In November 2025, King Felipe VI became the first Spanish monarch to make an official visit to the People’s Republic. Beijing’s courtship of Madrid, and Madrid’s reciprocation, has been methodical.

The economic backdrop matters enormously. In 2024, Spanish imports from China exceeded €45 billion while exports barely reached €7.4 billion—a deficit that makes Spain’s trade relationship with China structurally skewed in a way that gives Madrid both an incentive to deepen engagement (to gain market access) and a vulnerability (to a flood of cheap Chinese goods). The 19 agreements signed in April 2026 directly target this imbalance: five in agri-food—expanding access for Spanish pistachios, dried figs, and pork protein—four in trade and investment, and a landmark High Quality Investment Agreement designed to ensure that Chinese capital flowing into Spain brings technology transfers, local supply-chain integration, and job creation, rather than simply financial extraction.

The summit also produced what the Moncloa called a “Strategic Diplomatic Dialogue Mechanism,” a foreign-minister-led channel that places Spain alongside France and Germany in having a formalized, high-level architecture for managing disagreements with Beijing. Bilateral goods trade between Spain and China exceeded $55 billion in 2025, up 9.8% year on year, according to China’s General Administration of Customs. And at Tsinghua, Sánchez made his geopolitical framing explicit: he called for viewing the new international context as “a multiplication of poles,” advocated cooperation “as much as possible,” competition “when necessary,” and responsible management of differences. That is as close to a formal declaration of strategic autonomy as a serving EU premier is likely to deliver on Chinese soil.

“In an increasingly uncertain world, Spain is committed to a relationship between the EU and China based on trust, dialogue, and stability.”

— Pedro Sánchez, posting from Beijing, April 14, 2026

Why This Is a Major Trump Rebuke—Not Just a Trade Visit

Could the timing be coincidence? Sánchez flew to Beijing precisely six weeks after Trump’s Oval Office broadside, at the exact moment that US–Spain military relations were at their lowest ebb since the Cold War, and as Treasury Secretary Bessent was issuing public warnings about the economic costs of European cosiness with China. The sequencing is not incidental—it is the message.

The closest historical parallel is Italy’s March 2019 decision to join China’s Belt and Road Initiative under Prime Minister Giuseppe Conte, making it the first G7 nation to do so. That decision, taken against the explicit wishes of Washington, Brussels, and Berlin, was widely condemned as a unilateral breach of Western cohesion—and it ultimately cost Italy politically, leading Rome to quietly exit the BRI in 2023. But there is a critical difference. Italy’s BRI accession was primarily about infrastructure funding at a moment of domestic economic desperation; it was transactional and it lacked a strategic narrative. What Sánchez is offering is something more ambitious: a systematic repositioning of Spain as Europe’s most credible interlocutor with Beijing, backed by a domestic political economy in which opposition to American militarism plays well with his left-wing coalition partners and a broad public that polls show is deeply skeptical of the Iran war.

The Economic Leverage Scorecard: Who Needs Whom?

Metric	Value	Note
US trade surplus with Spain (2025)	$4.8bn	US actually runs a surplus
Spain’s exposure to US export markets	~7% of total exports	Relatively insulated
Spain–China bilateral trade (2024)	€44bn+	China: 4th largest partner
Spanish exports to China growth (2024)	+4.3% YoY	Positive trajectory
EU–China goods deficit (2024)	€305.8bn	Down from €397bn peak (2022)
German trade with China (2025)	€298bn	China = Germany’s #1 partner

There is also, frankly, a domestic political economy argument that pundits in Washington consistently underestimate. Sánchez has emerged as one of the leading European critics of the US and Israeli strikes against Iran, and Le Monde and DW have both noted his position as the most outspoken European premier against the Trump administration’s foreign policy maximalism. In Spain, opposing Trump on Iran is not a political liability—it is popular. The base denial was constitutionally grounded, legally defensible, and backed by a coalition that understands very well that Spanish public opinion is not going to punish a prime minister for refusing to turn Rota into a staging post for a war most Europeans oppose. Is it cynical? Somewhat. Is it coherent? Remarkably so.

Could Madrid’s Pivot Nudge the Broader EU Toward Beijing?

The question Europeans are quietly asking in Brussels corridors is whether Spain is a vanguard or an outlier. The answer, I would argue, is that it is increasingly neither—it is a visible articulation of something that is already happening below the surface of EU–China policy.

Consider the procession of European leaders into Beijing in the first quarter of 2026 alone. German Chancellor Friedrich Merz visited in late February, leading a delegation of 30 senior business executives from Volkswagen, BMW, Siemens, Bayer, and Adidas. French President Emmanuel Macron had been to China in late 2025. British Prime Minister Keir Starmer went in early 2026. For the first time in eight years, a European Parliament delegation visited China in late March 2026, focused on digital trade and e-commerce standards. The EU is not pivoting to China. But it is unambiguously, systematically, hedging.

The structural driver is plain arithmetic. The EU–China goods deficit stood at €305.8 billion in 2024—enormous, but actually down from the record €397 billion of 2022. EU imports from China totaled €519 billion against exports of €213 billion, and in the decade to 2024 the deficit quadrupled in volume while doubling in value. At the same time, the EU explicitly frames its strategy as “de-risking, not decoupling”—a distinction that matters enormously because it legitimizes continued deep engagement while creating political cover for selective interventions such as EV tariffs and public procurement exclusions for Chinese medical devices.

But what does Germany actually think? German imports from China hit €170.6 billion in 2025, up 8.8% year on year, while German exports to China fell 9.7% to €81.3 billion—a trade deficit that has quadrupled in five years. Merz’s February visit was, as The Diplomat noted, “less about romance and more about realism.” He cannot afford to decouple from China; more than half of German companies operating there plan to deepen ties, not exit. The private sector has effectively voted against decoupling. France, under Macron’s comprehensive sovereignty doctrine, maintains a more geopolitically assertive posture but remains commercially pragmatic. Italy, still recalibrating after its BRI exit, is cautious but not hostile.

What Spain adds to this picture is a normative signal that France and Germany, constrained by their size and systemic importance to EU unity, cannot easily send: that an EU member state can strengthen economic ties with China, explicitly advocate against Washington’s foreign policy preferences, and still credibly describe itself—as Sánchez did in Beijing—as “a profoundly pro-European country.” That rhetorical square is enormously useful to other EU capitals calculating their own hedging strategies.

“The visit gave Sánchez a chance to get a leadership position in Europe at a time when the transatlantic alliance is not only at risk but in shambles.”

— Alicia García-Herrero, Chief Asia-Pacific Economist, Natixis (via Associated Press)

The Dangers Sánchez Is Choosing to Ignore—or Consciously Accept

Treasury Secretary Bessent’s “cutting your own throat” warning deserves more analytical respect than Madrid’s breezy dismissal suggests. The concern is not without foundation: as US tariffs force Chinese manufacturers to redirect exports away from the American market, those goods need somewhere to go. As EU Trade Commissioner Šefčovič observed at year-end 2025, in a world where everything “can be weaponised,” the EU faces retaliation from both Washington and Beijing—making it the squeezed middle of a two-front trade war. Deeper Spanish engagement with China, particularly the High Quality Investment Agreement, could serve as a Trojan horse for Chinese manufacturers seeking tariff-free access to the EU single market via Spanish production facilities. Brussels will be watching BYD’s Hungarian playbook with exactly this anxiety.

There is also the secondary sanctions risk. The IEEPA authority that Bessent confirmed can theoretically be used not just against Spain’s own exports to the US but against third-country firms doing business with sanctioned Spanish entities. This is extreme and legally contested, but the Trump administration has demonstrated sufficient legal creativity—and economic recklessness—that European corporations must model the scenario. A Spanish firm that enters a Chinese joint venture and finds itself on a US Treasury designation list would create a firestorm that Sánchez could not politically survive.

Then there is the EU unity question. The Commission negotiates trade collectively, and individual member states cannot bind EU trade policy. But they can create facts on the ground—bilateral investment frameworks, technology-transfer agreements, agricultural access protocols—that complicate the Commission’s ability to maintain a coherent, unified front on issues like China’s overcapacity in solar panels, electric vehicles, and steel. As MERICS noted in its 2025 Europe–China Resilience Audit, Hungary’s pro-Beijing stance has already blunted EU de-risking instruments; a Spain that is perceived as accommodating to Chinese interests could create a similar, more politically significant, fissure from the other end of the political spectrum.

And what does China actually want from all this? Xi Jinping, in his meeting with Sánchez, was careful. He spoke of “multiple risks and challenges” without naming Trump or tariffs. He invoked multilateralism, the UN system, and the rejection of “the law of the jungle.” Beijing’s calculus is transparent: Spain—as a significant EU economy, NATO member, and vocal critic of American foreign policy maximalism—is precisely the kind of partner that can help China argue to European audiences that engaging with Beijing is not a strategic betrayal but a sovereign act of diversification. Xi explicitly said China and Spain should “reject any backslide into the law of the jungle” and “uphold true multilateralism”—language calibrated to resonate in European capitals increasingly exhausted by Washington’s transactional coercion.

A Bold Hedge, Not a Pivot—But It Could Become One

Let me offer a verdict that does justice to the genuine complexity here. Pedro Sánchez’s April 2026 Beijing visit is not, by itself, a European pivot toward China. The EU’s de-risking doctrine remains formally intact, the Commission retains trade policy authority, and German, French, and Scandinavian caution continues to anchor the bloc’s center of gravity. Sánchez cannot move the EU’s China policy by himself, and he knows it.

But what he has done—deliberately, skillfully, and with considerable domestic political courage—is demonstrate that the cost of defying Washington’s transactional foreign policy coercion is manageable, that Beijing will reward such defiance with genuine commercial benefits, and that the EU’s “strategic autonomy” rhetoric can be converted into something approaching operational reality. That demonstration effect is the real geopolitical payload of this trip. If Spain can absorb Trump’s fury, deny US base access for a war most Europeans oppose, and still land 19 deals in Beijing while claiming to be “profoundly pro-European”—then other EU capitals face a harder time justifying their own deference to Washington’s demands.

The risks are real and should not be minimized. Chinese dumping into European markets as a result of US tariff diversion is an economic threat, not a rhetorical one. The secondary sanctions risk, while extreme, is not zero under this administration. And EU unity is a genuinely fragile thing—Spain pulling one way while Germany hedges and France pivots creates the kind of incoherence that Brussels has always struggled to manage and that Beijing has always exploited with quiet patience.

But the deeper structural reality is this: as American reliability as a strategic partner continues to erode—through arbitrary trade threats, military base relocations wielded as economic punishment, and a foreign policy that explicitly prizes submission over solidarity—European capitals will inevitably seek alternative nodes of economic engagement. Spain has just shown them the blueprint. Whether they follow will depend on their own domestic political economies, their exposure to Chinese dumping risk, and above all on whether Washington eventually recalibrates, or continues to drive its allies eastward one threat at a time.

The Verdict: Sánchez’s Beijing gambit is Europe’s most consequential bilateral signal since Italy’s BRI accession—but unlike Rome in 2019, Madrid has a strategic narrative, a domestic mandate, and the backing of a continent quietly preparing its Plan B.

When Washington makes unreliability its brand, Beijing becomes everyone’s hedge. Spain just put that on the record.

Discover more from The Economy

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

Up Next

Singapore’s Margin Squeeze vs Malaysia’s Patient Payoff: Why F&B Operators Are Betting on Johor Bahru as the RTS Link Looms

Don't Miss

Singapore Developers Deepen Long-Term Bet on Vietnam: Why a Young, Well-Educated Workforce and Booming Middle Class Make It Irresistible

Click to comment

Oil Markets

China’s Oil Shock Absorber: How Beijing Kept Crude Prices Half of What Analysts Predicted

Published

1 day ago

June 22, 2026

Abdul Rahman

Analysts predicted oil above $200 during the Hormuz crisis. China’s intervention kept prices roughly half that. Fortune and Bloomberg explain how Beijing did it — and why the strategy has limits that markets have not fully priced in.

The $200 Oil That Never Arrived

When Iranian forces declared the Strait of Hormuz closed in early March 2026, the analytical consensus in energy markets shifted rapidly toward a catastrophic scenario. The Strait carries 27% of globally traded crude oil and petroleum products (Congressional Research Service, 2026). Iran had demonstrated both the capability and willingness to enforce that closure through attacks on shipping. A sustained blockade, analysts projected, could push Brent crude to $150, $175, or even above $200 per barrel — levels not seen since the 1970s oil shocks in real terms.

Brent reached approximately $113 at its peak in April. That is a severe price spike by any historical standard — a 100%-plus rise from January levels of around $56. But it is emphatically not $200. And the primary reason it is not $200, according to reporting from Fortune and Bloomberg, is China (Fortune, June 2026).

How Beijing managed to suppress oil prices to roughly half of what the most bearish forecasters projected — and why analysts warn that capability has limits — is one of the most consequential and under-analysed stories in global energy markets this year.

Key Takeaways

Analyst consensus during the Hormuz closure was for Brent crude to potentially breach $200/barrel
China’s strategic reserve releases, demand management, and alternative supply sourcing kept prices around $100–113 at their peak
China receives approximately one-third of its total oil imports via the Strait of Hormuz
Beijing is reportedly running out of its ability to continue suppressing oil price volatility through reserves alone
The longer-term consequence may be a permanent reshaping of Asian energy supply chains away from Gulf dependence

China’s Structural Exposure and Its Response

China is not merely a passive participant in global oil markets. It is, by a significant margin, the world’s largest crude oil importer, and the Strait of Hormuz occupies a central role in its energy security architecture. Approximately one-third of China’s total oil imports — representing about 3–4 million barrels per day — transits the Strait of Hormuz (Wikipedia / 2026 Hormuz Crisis). The disruption of that supply was not an abstract geopolitical concern for Beijing; it was a direct threat to industrial production, electricity generation, and economic stability.

China’s response operated on multiple fronts simultaneously. The most immediate was the release of strategic petroleum reserves — a buffer that Beijing has been systematically expanding since the early 2000s precisely in anticipation of supply disruptions. China’s strategic reserve capacity, estimated at approximately one billion barrels by the time of the conflict, provided a multi-month cushion that allowed Chinese refineries to maintain throughput without paying spot prices at the elevated levels that would otherwise have cleared the market (Wikipedia / Hormuz Crisis).

Simultaneously, Beijing accelerated the diversification of its spot purchasing toward West African, Russian, and Central Asian supply — suppliers not exposed to the Strait bottleneck. Russia, whose pipeline export routes run overland through Central Asia and whose Pacific coast ports access Chinese markets without Middle East transit, saw a significant increase in contracted volumes. The rapid rerouting of demand is a function of commercial relationships that China’s National Petroleum Corporation and Sinopec have been cultivating for precisely this scenario for over a decade.

Demand Management: The Hidden Tool

Less visible but equally important was demand-side management. China’s centralised economic planning apparatus has tools that market economies simply do not possess. When spot crude prices spiked, Chinese industrial regulators directed state-owned enterprises in energy-intensive sectors — aluminum smelting, steel production, cement manufacturing — to reduce output or shift to pre-accumulated inventory rather than purchase at market prices.

This is not a price mechanism adjustment; it is a direct administrative intervention in the quantity of oil demanded. By reducing industrial throughput in sectors where the marginal cost of a production pause is relatively low, Beijing effectively shifted the demand curve downward during the period of peak supply disruption — suppressing the equilibrium price without directly intervening in international markets.

The geopolitical complexity of this strategy should not be overlooked. China’s demand management created cover for an implicit diplomatic position: Beijing was neither supporting the U.S.-led international effort to reopen the Strait nor openly backing Tehran’s closure. It was simply managing its own economic exposure — a position that Xi Jinping could maintain with public statements calling the Strait’s openness “in the common interest of regional countries and the international community” while privately doing whatever was necessary to insulate the Chinese economy from the worst consequences (Wikipedia / Hormuz Crisis).

Why the Strategy Has Limits

Fortune’s analysis is clear: China’s oil shock absorption cannot continue indefinitely, and cannot protect global markets much longer at current intensity (Fortune, June 2026).

The strategic petroleum reserve, however large, is a finite buffer. It is designed to cover weeks or a few months of disruption — not a sustained multi-year reorientation of global supply chains. Every barrel released from reserve must eventually be replaced, and replacement purchases at a time of market tightness push prices back up. If the Hormuz situation were to deteriorate again after a partial reopening, China’s reserve cushion would be materially depleted compared to its pre-crisis level.

The administrative demand management approach also carries economic costs that compound over time. Cutting aluminum or steel output during a supply shock is tolerable for weeks. Sustained output reductions damage trade relationships, create delivery failures on international contracts, and impose real economic costs on the downstream industries that depend on those materials. At some point, the cost of demand suppression exceeds the cost of simply paying higher oil prices.

The most durable consequence of the crisis is not what China did in the short term — it is what it is now doing structurally. Long-term supply agreements with non-Gulf producers, accelerated domestic refinery investment, expanded strategic reserve capacity, and intensified electric vehicle and renewable energy adoption are all being fast-tracked as direct lessons of the 2026 disruption. Those investments will reduce China’s Hormuz dependency over a five-to-ten-year horizon — permanently altering the geopolitical leverage that control of the Strait confers.

What This Means for Global Oil Prices

The two-sided implication for global energy markets is stark. In the near term, as the Hormuz deal is implemented and Chinese reserve releases wind down, the physical oil market will need to find a new equilibrium without Beijing’s suppressive effect. The natural clearing price — in the absence of further disruption — is likely in the $75–90 Brent range, reflecting OPEC-plus production discipline, recovering non-Gulf supply, and the partial demand destruction caused by the price spike.

In the medium term, China’s structural shift away from Gulf dependency represents a secular demand reduction for Hormuz-routed barrels. That reduction, distributed across a five-to-ten year transition, is manageable for Gulf producers who can reroute via pipeline (Saudi Arabia, UAE) but is structurally damaging for those who cannot (Iraq, Kuwait, Qatar).

For energy investors, the China oil story of 2026 offers a counterintuitive insight: the country that was most exposed to the supply disruption also proved to be the most effective damper on the price shock. That capability will not disappear — but it will not be unlimited either. The next disruption will test reserves and administrative levers that are now partially depleted, and the price response, when it comes, may be harder to contain.

Discover more from The Economy

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

Analysis

U.S. Inflation at a Three-Year High: How the Iran War Turned an Economic Recovery Into a Stagflation Risk

Published

1 day ago

June 22, 2026

Abdul Rahman

U.S. inflation hit 4.2% in May 2026 — its highest since April 2023 — driven by an oil price surge linked to the U.S.-Iran conflict and the Strait of Hormuz closure. Here’s what it means for households, the Fed, and economic growth.

Key Takeaways

U.S. CPI rose 4.2% year-on-year in May 2026, the highest reading since April 2023
Core CPI (ex-food and energy) is more contained at 2.9%, limiting but not eliminating the Fed’s concern
WTI crude rose from ~$57/barrel in January to a peak of $113 in April — nearly doubling in three months
The Federal Reserve has revised its 2026 PCE inflation forecast up sharply, from 2.7% to 3.6%
The risk of second-round inflationary effects — where energy costs embed into the broader price level — is Citigroup’s primary concern

From Recovery to Renewed Pressure

Entering 2026, the U.S. economic outlook appeared broadly constructive. Inflation had trended down from post-pandemic peaks; the Federal Reserve had delivered three successive quarter-point rate cuts in the final months of 2025; the labour market, while cooling, remained healthy; and consumer spending was proving more resilient than many forecasters expected.

Then, in late February 2026, the United States and Israel launched military operations against Iran, and the macroeconomic calculus changed almost overnight.

The Consumer Price Index rose 4.2% year-on-year in May 2026 — the highest annual reading since April 2023, and a dramatic reversal of the disinflationary trajectory that had defined 2024 and most of 2025 (CBS News, June 2026). The Federal Reserve revised its headline PCE inflation forecast for 2026 up from 2.7% to 3.6% at the June FOMC meeting — a 90-basis-point upward revision in a single quarter, the most aggressive single-meeting inflation reassessment in years (Fox Business, June 17, 2026).

The Oil Price Channel: From $57 to $113

The transmission mechanism is straightforward. Iran’s declaration that the Strait of Hormuz was “closed” on March 4, 2026 — through which approximately 27% of globally traded crude flows — created an immediate and severe supply shock. West Texas Intermediate crude futures rose from approximately $57 per barrel at the start of the year to a peak of $113 in April (U.S. Bank Asset Management, June 2026).

At the pump, the consequences were immediate. U.S. gasoline prices track crude oil prices closely, with a lag of several weeks. By the time WTI peaked in April, American consumers were paying materially more to fill their tanks, heat their homes, and power their businesses. Energy is both a direct component of the CPI and an indirect input cost for virtually every sector of the economy — transportation, manufacturing, agriculture, and retail alike.

The energy shock was the primary driver behind the May CPI reading. Core inflation — which strips out volatile food and energy prices and is the Fed’s preferred gauge of underlying price dynamics — came in at a more contained 2.9% (NPR, June 17, 2026). That 130-basis-point gap between headline and core is the central interpretive challenge facing policymakers: it suggests the inflation is mostly a supply shock rather than a demand-driven phenomenon — but that is cold comfort when households are paying 4.2% more for their consumption basket than they were a year ago.

The Second-Round Effect: The Slow Spread

The more dangerous scenario, from a monetary policy perspective, is not the initial energy price spike — it is what economists call second-round effects. These occur when energy cost increases flow into the prices of non-energy goods and services through transportation costs, higher manufacturing input costs, and wage demands that workers make in response to a higher cost of living.

Citigroup flagged this risk in a late-May research note, warning that the prolonged run-up in crude prices was already beginning to spill into broader inflation pressures, with second-round effects becoming visible in sectors where energy costs are a significant input — logistics, food processing, and industrial manufacturing in particular (CNBC, May 28, 2026). Once second-round effects are embedded in the wage-price dynamic, the supply-shock origin becomes irrelevant: the inflation is self-sustaining regardless of what happens to oil.

This mechanism is why the Federal Reserve — which under normal doctrine would look through a supply-driven energy shock — has moved to a hawkish posture despite the conflict being the source of price pressure. Nine of 18 FOMC members now project a rate hike before year-end 2026 (Fox Business). The committee has explicitly raised its inflation outlook and removed its easing-biased forward guidance. That is not the behaviour of a central bank confident it can look through an energy spike.

Labour Market Complexity

What makes this inflation episode particularly difficult to manage is the backdrop of a surprisingly resilient labour market. U.S. employers added an average of 188,000 jobs per month over the three months to May, and the unemployment rate has held steady at 4.3% for a full year — a remarkably stable number given the geopolitical disruption (CNBC, June 17, 2026).

In a conventional supply-shock inflation scenario, one would expect the real income compression caused by higher energy prices to dampen consumer spending and slow growth — effectively doing the Fed’s tightening work for it. That has not clearly happened yet. Consumer spending has remained resilient, supported by a tight labour market, lower income and corporate taxes enacted earlier in the Trump administration, and fiscal tailwinds from government spending programmes.

The combination of elevated inflation and a still-strong labour market is, in monetary policy terms, the worst of all worlds for a central bank trying to justify patience. It removes the “growth is already slowing” argument that would otherwise support a hold-and-wait posture. The hawks within the FOMC have a clean case: prices are too high, jobs are plenty, and there is no compelling reason to leave rates where they are.

How American Households Are Feeling It

Behind the statistics is a lived economic reality for American households. Inflation has now been running above the Fed’s 2% target for five consecutive years (Fox Business). The compounding effect of sustained above-target inflation on real purchasing power is substantial: a household that was earning $75,000 in 2021 needs approximately $89,000 in 2026 to maintain the same standard of living, even before accounting for the latest energy-driven spike.

The political consequences are significant. Inflation is historically the most potent economic grievance among voters. An inflation reading of 4.2% — after a period when the public narrative had shifted to “inflation is under control” — represents a reputational setback for the administration and a genuine hardship for lower- and middle-income households, who spend a disproportionate share of their income on energy and food.

SNAP benefit restrictions — under active congressional consideration — would compound the impact on the most vulnerable households. Food companies and grocery chains are watching the policy debate closely, as changes to SNAP purchasing rules could meaningfully alter demand patterns for staple goods (CNBC, June 20, 2026).

The Path Forward

The good news — and it is significant — is that the primary driver of the inflation surge is now partially reversing. Brent crude has retreated from its April peak of approximately $113 to approximately $78 by mid-June, as the U.S.-Iran peace framework reduces near-term supply disruption fears (Al Jazeera, June 17, 2026). If Brent settles in the $70–80 range and the Strait reopening is durable, the energy component of CPI should provide disinflationary relief in the June, July, and August prints.

The lagged second-round effects will take longer to unwind. Wage growth that has been pulled higher by workers’ cost-of-living concerns does not retreat immediately when pump prices fall. Transportation costs embedded in goods pricing take months to work out of supply chain contracts. Services inflation — already running hot before the conflict — has limited sensitivity to oil prices in either direction.

The base case, shared by most economists surveyed ahead of the June FOMC meeting, is that inflation moderates back toward 3% by year-end as energy effects dissipate — but that the Fed holds rates steady at best, and hikes once at worst. The stagflationary risk — where growth slows meaningfully while inflation remains above target — is not the central scenario but is no longer a tail risk.

Discover more from The Economy

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.

IPO

IPO Summer 2026: Anthropic, OpenAI, and the Race to Price Artificial Intelligence on Public Markets

Published

1 day ago

June 22, 2026

Abdul Rahman

With SpaceX now public, Anthropic has confidentially filed at a ~$965 billion valuation and OpenAI follows at $852 billion. We break down what their IPOs mean for public markets, AI competition, and investors.

Key Takeaways

Anthropic confidentially filed its S-1 with the SEC on June 1, 2026; OpenAI followed on June 8
Anthropic’s latest funding values it at approximately $965 billion; OpenAI targets a $852 billion debut valuation
Anthropic’s annualised revenue run rate crossed $44–47 billion in May 2026, growing at roughly 10x per year
Both Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley are bookrunning both deals, each expected to raise at least $60 billion
Together with SpaceX, the three mega-IPOs could demand north of $200 billion from public markets in 2026

The Year Public Markets Had to Price AGI

SpaceX’s June 12 debut was historic. But in the longer narrative arc of 2026, it may prove to be the prelude. With Elon Musk’s rocket company now trading on the Nasdaq and raising $85.7 billion in the largest IPO in history, Wall Street’s attention has pivoted immediately to the next act: Anthropic and OpenAI, the two companies whose products are reshaping global knowledge work, coding, legal services, healthcare, and finance — and whose valuations are asking public markets to price something it has never priced before: the plausible path to artificial general intelligence.

The sequence is moving fast. Anthropic confidentially filed its S-1 with the SEC on June 1, 2026, the company confirmed in a blog post that day (Fortune, June 1, 2026). OpenAI followed exactly one week later, on June 8, announcing its own filing rather than allowing it to leak — a signal from Sam Altman’s team that they intend to control the IPO narrative (FutureSearch, June 2026). Both are bookrun by the same dual-bank syndicate: Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley, each expected to raise at least $60 billion (FutureSearch).

Anthropic: The Quiet Frontrunner

Twelve months ago, Anthropic was universally described as OpenAI’s challenger. Today, by several key metrics, it has pulled ahead. The company’s annualised revenue run rate crossed $44–47 billion in May 2026, compounding at approximately 10x per year — a growth rate that makes OpenAI’s roughly 3.4x annualised growth look almost conventional by comparison (IndMoney, June 2026; BitMEX).

Anthropic raised $30 billion in a Series G round in February 2026 at a $380 billion post-money valuation, before a $65 billion Series H-1 round in May pushed the private valuation to approximately $965 billion — eclipsing OpenAI’s valuation for the first time (Fortune, June 2026). The company is also on track to post its first-ever operating profit in Q2 2026, projecting approximately $559 million on $10.9 billion in quarterly revenue (IndMoney).

The enterprise thesis is central to Anthropic’s public market story. Approximately 80% of revenue comes from enterprise customers, and Anthropic’s share of the enterprise AI market surpassed OpenAI’s for the first time in April 2026, driven by Claude’s dominance in agentic coding workflows, legal research, and financial analysis (IG UK, June 2026). Anthropic has told investors its annualised run rate will surpass $50 billion by July, and has projected $70 billion in revenue with $17 billion in free cash flow by 2028 (IG UK).

The risks are real. A $5.6 billion net loss in 2024 and a 2028 cash-flow profitability target — rather than an immediate one — mean investors must take a long-dated view. The company is also embroiled in a legal dispute with the U.S. government after the Pentagon designated it a supply-chain risk, a designation Anthropic argues could jeopardise billions in revenue (Fortune). Additionally, a June 12 regulatory action suspending the “Claude Fable” model export has widened the tail risk on Anthropic’s IPO timeline, pushing the p10 downside date out to April 2028 in some analyst models (FutureSearch).

The consensus target date for Anthropic’s listing is December 2026, with a first-day market cap median of approximately $1.10 trillion — which would make it the first pure-enterprise AI safety company to trade publicly, and one of the most valuable companies ever to debut (FutureSearch).

OpenAI: Bigger by Brand, Smaller by Growth Rate

OpenAI carries extraordinary brand recognition — ChatGPT crossed 900 million weekly active users by early 2026 — and its revenue trajectory, while slower than Anthropic’s in percentage terms, is still formidable in absolute terms: revenues grew from approximately $2 billion annualised in 2023 to over $20 billion by end-2025 (IndMoney).

But the loss picture gives public investors pause. FutureSearch estimates OpenAI’s 2026 GAAP net loss at $25–26 billion against a widely cited $14 billion non-GAAP figure — a gap that reflects the difference between the story management is telling on the roadshow and the financial reality a public company must disclose in quarterly filings (FutureSearch). The 90-day post-IPO market cap estimate of $0.86 trillion — materially below the first-day median — reflects the prediction that institutional models, once they have time to fully digest the loss line, will price more conservatively than day-one narrative demand.

OpenAI’s $852 billion debut valuation target positions it slightly below Anthropic’s pre-IPO mark (Fortune, June 2026). The later it lists, the more revenue compounds under the number — meaning OpenAI has a structural incentive to maximise quality of disclosure ahead of its September target rather than rush to beat Anthropic to market.

The Capital Markets Challenge: Can the System Absorb It?

The scale of capital being demanded is genuinely unprecedented. SpaceX alone raised $85.7 billion. Anthropic and OpenAI are each expected to raise at least $60 billion. Total 2026 U.S. IPO proceeds could reach approximately $160 billion, according to Goldman Sachs projections — against a 2025 baseline of $45 billion (IndMoney).

The liquidity case is that there is an estimated $8 trillion sitting in U.S. money market funds. SpaceX’s $85.7 billion raise represents roughly 1% of that pool. Institutional investors who have spent years gaining AI exposure indirectly — via Nvidia for chips, Microsoft for its OpenAI stake, Alphabet for its Anthropic investment — now have the option of owning the underlying models directly. The pent-up demand for pure-play AI exposure is enormous.

The displacement risk is subtler but real. Money rotating into SpaceX, Anthropic, and OpenAI must come from somewhere — and that somewhere is likely existing Magnificent 7 positions or cash allocations that would otherwise flow into other sectors (IndMoney). The portfolio rebalancing triggered by three mega-listings could create meaningful headwinds for established large-cap tech stocks in the second half of 2026.

The Race to First-Mover Advantage

Anthropic’s decision to file first was strategically deliberate. By going to market ahead of OpenAI, the company avoids being overshadowed by its more famous rival and benefits from scarcity — institutional investors who buy Anthropic have less capital available for OpenAI when it comes. OpenAI, meanwhile, gains a tactical advantage from watching how the market prices audited frontier AI financials before committing to its own price.

It is worth noting, as IG UK observes, that both companies filed within days of each other despite being direct competitors — suggesting that both management teams made independent calculations that the post-SpaceX IPO window represents an optimal moment for AI listings, when investor appetite for frontier technology is at a verifiable high and the SpaceX roadshow has done the work of educating institutional allocators on how to think about pre-profitability, mission-driven, deeply moated technology businesses (IG UK).

2026: The Year That Changes Public Markets Forever

If SpaceX, Anthropic, and OpenAI all complete their listings before year-end, 2026 will be remembered as the year public markets were forced to price artificial general intelligence for the first time. Their combined target valuations of approximately $3.6 trillion equal the GDP of France — and they are not asking investors to value what they earn today, but what humanity becomes tomorrow (IndMoney).

That is a proposition without precedent in the history of capital markets. Whether public markets accept it enthusiastically, price it conservatively, or — as some veteran investors warn — create the conditions for a correction of historic proportions when the gap between narrative and quarterly earnings becomes undeniable, is the central investment question of 2026.