American companies with operations in China are staying right where they are—despite years of political promises about bringing manufacturing back to U.S. shores.
In a revealing (if not entirely shocking) survey, the American Chamber of Commerce polled 113 member companies operating in the manufacturing powerhouse. The result? Not a single one—zero, zip, nada—reported plans to shift production back to American soil.
So much for the great manufacturing exodus, huh?
Look, I've been tracking the "reshoring" narrative since it became a bipartisan talking point around 2018, and the gap between political rhetoric and business reality keeps getting wider. Politicians love to stand in front of factory backdrops promising manufacturing revivals, but the companies themselves? They're making different calculations altogether.
The stubbornness of these supply chains shouldn't surprise anyone who understands what I call the "manufacturing inertia factor." Once you've built a production ecosystem—with its web of suppliers, trained workforce, and logistics infrastructure—moving it is like trying to relocate a small city. It's not just expensive; it's disruptive in ways that spreadsheets struggle to capture.
"Companies don't make these decisions based on political winds," a supply chain consultant told me last month at a manufacturing conference in Chicago. "They're looking at total cost of ownership over decades, not election cycles."
What's particularly interesting about the Chamber's findings is the timing. We're several years into: • A global pandemic that exposed supply chain vulnerabilities • Escalating U.S.-China tensions that show no signs of cooling • Massive U.S. government incentives aimed at domestic manufacturing
And still... nothing's moving.
Well, that's not entirely accurate. The survey did reveal that many companies are pursuing what industry insiders call a "China+1" strategy—maintaining their Chinese operations while establishing additional facilities in places like Vietnam, Mexico, or Thailand. It's not so much decoupling as it is hedging bets.
(I spoke with three manufacturing executives last quarter who described almost identical diversification plans, though none would go on record criticizing the political rhetoric around reshoring.)
The most fascinating aspect of this whole situation is watching Wall Street's reaction—or rather, non-reaction. Investors priced in the stickiness of global supply chains long ago. They understood what politicians seemingly can't: that economics trumps politics when it comes to where things get made.
I mean, have you seen the stock performance of companies deeply embedded in Asian manufacturing networks? They're doing just fine, thank you very much.
There are legitimate questions about whether this sample of Chamber members truly represents the broader manufacturing landscape. These tend to be established players with decades of investment in China. Newer companies—particularly those in sensitive tech sectors—might be making different choices.
But for now, the data is pretty darn clear.
The "Made in China" label isn't disappearing from American store shelves anytime soon. And those campaign promises about manufacturing revivals? They're writing checks that economic reality simply isn't cashing.
Perhaps it's time we had a more honest conversation about global supply chains—one that acknowledges their remarkable resilience and the complex web of factors that keeps them in place. Because wishful thinking and political posturing won't change the fundamental economics that continue to make China the world's factory floor.
At least not anytime soon.
