OMAHA, Neb. — Warren Buffett, the 94-year-old investing legend, didn’t mince words at Berkshire Hathaway’s annual shareholder meeting on May 3, 2025, slamming the idea of using trade as a cudgel in global economic fights. Speaking to thousands packed into the CHI Health Center, the Oracle of Omaha took aim at protectionist policies—without naming names—and warned that slapping hefty tariffs on imports is a lousy way to flex American muscle.
“Trade should not be a weapon,” Buffett declared during the marathon Q&A session, a hallmark of the event dubbed the Woodstock of Capitalism. His comments, sparked by a shareholder’s question about his 2003 proposal for import certificates, came as a pointed jab at recent U.S. moves to hike tariffs sky-high, particularly on Chinese goods. Buffett, perched atop Berkshire’s sprawling empire of insurance, railroads, and ice cream shops, argued that turning trade into a battlefield risks souring ties with the world’s other 7.5 billion people. “It’s a big mistake,” he said, his voice steady but sharp. “The United States won. We’ve become an incredibly important country, starting from nothing 250 years ago.”
The backdrop was tense. Just weeks earlier, on April 1, the White House rolled out some of the steepest import levies in decades, sending Wall Street into a tailspin and prompting a 90-day pause on most increases—except for China. Buffett, whose conglomerate reported a 14% profit dip to $9.6 billion for the first quarter of 2025, didn’t sugarcoat the fallout. Berkshire’s earnings filing noted “considerable uncertainty” from tariffs and geopolitical jitters, with its cash hoard swelling to a record $347 billion as Buffett sold stocks for the tenth straight quarter.
He doubled down, reviving his decades-old idea of import certificates—a market-based fix to balance trade deficits without resorting to what he called “economic war.” Back in 2003, Buffett pitched the plan in a Fortune article, suggesting certificates could cap imports to match exports, letting businesses sort out the details. “It’s gimmicky, but it’s certainly a lot better than anything I think we’re talking about now,” he said, tossing a verbal grenade at current policy.
The crowd, a mix of loyal investors and curious newcomers, lapped it up. Berkshire’s meeting, held in Buffett’s hometown, is part carnival, part financial pilgrimage, with shareholders browsing Dairy Queen treats and Geico booths before settling in for hours of Buffett’s wisdom. This year, the mood was heavier. Investors leaned in, hungry for clarity on a wobbly economy and a trade war rattling global markets.
Buffett, ever the long-game thinker, framed open trade as a win-win. “The more prosperous the rest of the world becomes, it won’t be at our expense,” he said. “The more prosperous we’ll become, and the safer we’ll feel.” His words carried weight, given Berkshire’s sprawling reach—from Burlington Northern railroads to Fruit of the Loom underwear—making him a rare voice with skin in every corner of the American economy.
The meeting itself was a spectacle, as always. Shareholders camped out overnight to snag seats, while Buffett, flanked by vice chairman Greg Abel, fielded questions with his trademark mix of wit and bluntness. He didn’t name the president or dive into politics, but the subtext was clear: tariffs, in his view, are a clumsy tool, more likely to bruise than build.
Berkshire’s first-quarter results, released the same day, showed a company in cautious mode. Net earnings fell from 2024, hit by wildfire losses in its insurance units and softer performance across its portfolio. Yet its stock, trading as BRK.A and BRK.B, has climbed despite market volatility since the November 2024 election. Buffett, still at the helm despite his age, offered no hints on succession but signaled confidence in Abel, who’s expected to steer the conglomerate someday.
By the time Buffett wrapped up, the message was unmistakable: trade wars are a losing bet, and America’s strength lies in playing nice, not swinging fists. The shareholders filed out, buzzing with quotes to chew on, while Omaha’s bars braced for the post-meeting rush.