OVER THE PAST YEAR, a new term has entered the lexicon: “Sell America.” The idea is that investors are losing confidence in the U.S. economy due to persistent deficits and concerns about other policy choices. Owing to these fears, some investors are pulling money out of U.S. stocks and reallocating to international markets. Others are opting for gold and silver. The result: In 2025, for the first time in a long time, international stocks demonstrably outpaced domestic equities, gold rose nearly 70% and silver more than doubled. These trends have continued into 2026. Year-to-date, the S&P 500 is just fractionally positive. Meanwhile, global stocks outside the U.S. have gained 8.5%, with some international markets delivering even stronger returns. An index of Asian markets is up 17%. Some analysts are now predicting a more fundamental shift away from U.S. markets. A recent Bloomberg headline read, “Anywhere but the U.S.” It argued that “U.S. exceptionalism is under pressure.” Matthew Tuttle runs an investment firm in Connecticut. In a recent article, he argued that other countries are building a “kill switch” for U.S. technology. “The world is building optionality away from U.S. policy and platform dependence.” In France, he says, the government is encouraging companies to stop using Zoom. One German state has been moving government data away from Microsoft. Countries around the world, he says, are pursuing “digital sovereignty.” Do these trends mean that we should all be pursuing Sell America strategies with our portfolios? Recent data might point in that direction. But I would proceed with caution, for two reasons. First, there’s no guarantee that current trends will continue. Just in the past year, we've seen how quickly things can reverse. After years of middling performance, international stocks significantly outperformed. The proximate cause was White House policy, but as we’ve seen so many times in the past, policies aren’t permanent and often reverse. We’ll have another election in 2028. In the meantime, any number of other variables could affect investment markets at any time. Indeed, an unexpected reversal hit gold and silver just last week. Why? One explanation is that it was in response to the White House’s pick to lead the Federal Reserve. Whatever the cause, though, this is an example of how quickly things can change. Another challenge with the Sell America trade is that commentators, at any given time, tend to focus most on the issues that are in the news. But surprises occur regularly. Look no further than the appearance of Covid-19 in 2020 or the advent of consumer-facing AI tools in 2022. Each had a material impact on investment markets, but neither was expected. This occurs all the time. When investors are looking left, something appears from the right. Whatever we’re all focused on today might be valid, but it represents just a fraction of what will actually occur in the future. Some years ago, the consulting firm Callan developed what it calls the periodic table of investments. In a color-coded format, it illustrates the returns of various asset classes from year to year. What patterns does it reveal? In short, none. At any given time, it’s a patchwork. Markets can go from first to worst and then back again. This happens regularly. The second problem with the Sell America trade—or any other tactical trade—is that even if we could forecast the future, that still wouldn’t guarantee investment profits. Howard Marks, a longtime investor and author, explains it this way: “In order to produce something useful,” he says, “you must have a reliable process capable of converting the required inputs into the desired output. The problem, in short, is that I don’t think there can be a process capable of consistently turning the large number of variables associated with economies and financial markets (the inputs) into a useful macro forecast (the output).” You might, in other words, correctly forecast the result of the next election or how far the Fed will cut interest rates. Significant as those variables are, however, they are still just part of the immense number of moving parts that ultimately combine over time to drive markets. The result: An event that might appear to be positive can end up having no effect because of another, concurrent event, or because investors interpret an event in an unexpected way. We saw this happen as recently as this week. On Wednesday, an employment report was released with results that were far better than expected. But when the market opened Wednesday morning, prices were mixed, with many stocks in the red. Why? At least two other factors were at play. First, there’s the fear that a strong employment report—a sign of a strong economy—will cause the Fed to move more slowly in lowering rates. And since higher rates are generally bad for stocks, the result, counterintuitively, is that a strong employment report—an otherwise positive sign—can end up driving the market down. Another reason stocks were weak on Wednesday: A theme in recent weeks has been the fear that AI will damage the software industry because it is getting so much better at writing code. This concept is known as “vibe coding,” and the idea is that, in the not-too-distant future, any layman will be able to create their own software on demand. That story ebbs and flows from the headlines, but it happened to be getting more discussion this week. Investment markets, in other words, are like an old fashioned scale, constantly weighing a mix of factors—and stories—on each side. The challenge, though, is that no one has a complete picture of what factors will be on the scale at any given time. To be sure, some forecasts do turn out to be accurate. If you have a view on how a particular policy will turn out, you could be right. The challenge, though, is that when we focus on just one factor—whether it be tariffs or the debt or an election—we’re looking at things through too narrow a lens. For this reason, Warren Buffett has always emphasized the futility of making economic forecasts. “In the hard sciences, you know that if an apple falls from a tree, that it isn't going to change over the centuries because of…political developments or 400 other variables... But when you get into economics, there's so many variables…” Retired Fidelity fund manager Peter Lynch perhaps said it best: “I’ve always said if you spend 13 minutes a year on economics, you’ve wasted 10 minutes.” The Sell America trade may have some reasonable basis. But in the absence of a crystal ball, I’m not sure it’s sufficient enough for investors to dramatically alter their plans.   Adam M. Grossman is the founder of Mayport, a fixed-fee wealth management firm. Sign up for Adam's Daily Ideas email, follow him on X @AdamMGrossman and check out his earlier articles.

SOMETIMES WORLD events beyond your control create a hard reset point in your financial life. A before and after. For me, that point was the 2007 Great Financial Crisis (GFC). The psychological scars still reverberate into my current life.   Looking back, I was aware of something rumbling about in the financial landscape but didn't take much notice due to being deeply involved in running my business. Little did I realize the impact heading my way. At that point, we had finally reached a good place in life. It was ten years since founding my company and the memory of the first five tough, lean years were a fading thought in my mind. Meaningful cash was flowing into our personal accounts, and business was very profitable with dreams of life-changing expansion on my mind. Nothing seemed impossible. We were young and proud of our achievements. Mid-2008 saw banks in my country going under and the government stepping in to prop them up. My wife Suzie worked for a large UK-based international bank. I distinctly remember one Saturday morning chatting together about the crash in Suzie's employer's share price and whether we should take a big personal position. We both thought the company was fundamentally strong and a massive bargain. Any thoughts about investing went out the window by that Monday afternoon. My bankers called me to an urgent afternoon meeting. With little in the way of diplomacy, immediate repayment of loans and overdrafts was demanded within seven days. The final insult was informing me that a small, unused $100 overdraft on my personal account was withdrawn with immediate effect. Shell-shocked understates how I felt as I left the meeting. It’s a bit of a blur, and so were the next 18 months of fighting for survival. All of mine and Suzie's personal capital was poured into the business, and inventory was run down to the lowest possible level to generate cash flow. My suppliers had to wait for payment, and I purchased stock almost daily for over a year. Beyond the financial strain and exhausting work schedule, there was another weight I carried—guilt. My suppliers had to wait for payment, and that violated something fundamental in me. It was a matter of my honour and honesty. My conscience gave me no choice about paying them back; it's just what you have to do. But the delay itself felt like a breach of my word, a compromise of values I'd never imagined I'd make. The bitter irony wasn't lost on me: the banks who'd shown zero consideration in demanding immediate repayment had forced me into a position where I had to ask suppliers for the very grace my bankers refused to extend. Personally, the main anxiety I felt during the first year of our struggle was the thought of approaching the tax authorities. I was terrified of telling them I couldn't gather the capital to fully pay the corporation tax bill. Unbelievably they were the most understanding of all my creditors and accepted a three month delay without protest. It's hard to convey the unease and vulnerability we both felt. At least I had some agency trying to control our business. Suzie only saw our savings evaporate and me working 16 hour days seven days a week. We also had the worry that Suzie worked for one of the banks involved in the crisis. Our only dependable income could disappear with the snap of a corporate finger. We had no answers, but we had each other. Slowly our heads peeked above the black clouds of despair. I went from juggling cash flow on a daily basis, banking every check within an hour of receipt and praying it didn't bounce, because I wasn't sailing these stormy waters alone—my customers had issues also and they were stretching my credit terms to breaking point. One day, more than a year into the crisis, I realised there was enough in our business account. I didn't need to rush to lodge the check in my hand; one more day could pass…the beginning of a turnaround. By the middle of the third year, we had turned things around and managed to get a firm financial footing, with the business now operating on a cash-positive model. This enabled Suzie and me to start refilling our personal finances. Never again would I be dependent on credit in any manner. This reset point lasted until I sold my business earlier this year and still holds sway in my personal financial life. Undoubtedly, there was an opportunity cost to my fundamental and permanent management shift. Growth had to be slow and organic, not explosive and fueled by lending. My personal wealth would possibly be much larger if I had gone cap in hand to the banks. For me, it wasn't a hurdle I wanted to cross. A comfortable life was enough. I didn't need riches. While it was a traumatic experience, I feel it was an overall positive result. Debt changed from a way of business life to an unnecessary instrument that was also banished from our personal lives. Not much good came out of the GFC, but a dislike and avoidance of debt was the best result for our long-term peace of mind and future retirement. It wasn't a lesson I wanted or expected but it was one I certainly learned and took to heart. Have you ever reached a financial reset point in your life? Was it, like for Suzie and me, a nearly unbearable burden at the time? In hindsight, does it now seem like a worthwhile experience to overcome? Or was it too large to overcome and still negatively affecting your financial well-being? ___ Mark Crothers is a retired small business owner from the UK with a keen interest in personal finance and simple living. Married to his high school sweetheart, with daughters and grandchildren, he knows the importance of building a secure financial future. With an aversion to social media, he prefers to spend his time on his main passions: reading, scratch cooking, racket sports, and hiking.