Ask any older Bermudian about the Bermuda onion, and you might just unlock a treasure trove of pride and memory. Once upon a time, this tearjerker was the island’s crown jewel—sweet, succulent, and in high demand, particularly in the United States. By the early 20th century, Bermuda onions had become synonymous with quality, so much so that “Bermuda onion” became a catch-all term for all sweet onions, whether they came from our shores or not.
But in 1922, a shift in American economic policy devastated this vital industry. The culprit? The Fordney-McCumber Tariff—a sweeping piece of U.S. legislation that would reshape Bermuda’s agricultural landscape forever by increasing the average duty rate to about 38.5%, much higher than previous tariffs.
Bermuda’s love affair with the onion began in the mid-1800s. Farmers quickly discovered that the island’s mild winters and fertile soil were perfect for growing onions, particularly the white and yellow varieties. By the 1880s, onions were Bermuda’s chief export. Tens of thousands of crates were shipped annually to the U.S., feeding a growing American appetite.
At its peak in the early 20th century, Bermuda was exporting upwards of 400,000 boxes of onions each year, mostly to East Coast cities like New York and Boston. Onions brought jobs, prosperity, and identity. Bermudians were even nicknamed “Onions”—a moniker that survives to this day as a point of island pride.
Then came the Fordney-McCumber Tariff Act of 1922. In an effort to protect American farmers from foreign competition, the U.S. Congress drastically increased import duties on a wide range of agricultural products—including onions. This protectionist policy may have helped struggling farmers in Texas and Georgia, who had begun growing sweet onions of their own, but it was a death knell for Bermuda’s fragile export economy.
Suddenly, Bermudian onions were priced out of the American market. With a high tariff slapped on every imported crate, Bermudian farmers could no longer compete on price. The industry collapsed almost overnight.
A century later, U.S. President Donald Trump has revived the spirit of economic nationalism that sank Bermuda’s onion trade. From steel and aluminum to solar panels and Chinese electronics, Trump-era tariffs sought to bolster domestic production at the expense of foreign imports. While popular among certain voter bases, Trump-era tariffs seek to bolster domestic production at the expense of foreign imports. These policies have disrupted global supply chains and invited retaliatory tariffs, echoing the same ripple effects that devastated Bermuda in 1922.
However, there’s a key difference: Bermuda in the 1920s had few options. Today, small economies like ours have greater diversification and tools to build resilience—from digital services to tourism to reinsurance. Yet Trump’s tariffs are a reminder that when large powers flex their trade muscles, smaller economies can still feel the squeeze. In a globalized world, the lessons of the onion era still matter.
The 1922 tariff didn’t just damage Bermuda’s economy—it upended its society. Farmers were left without a market. Agricultural workers lost jobs. Land once cultivated for export crops fell fallow. The island was forced to pivot, gradually leaning more heavily on tourism, which was then in its infancy.
Though onions are still grown on the island today in smaller quantities, the days of Bermuda as the onion capital of the Western Hemisphere are long gone.
The story of the Bermuda onion trade is more than a tale of agriculture. It is a poignant lesson in global economics, vulnerability, and adaptation. In many ways, the onion trade helped shape Bermuda’s identity—from our nickname to our work ethic to our resilience in the face of sudden change.
