Thai Fish Sauce Empire SquiD Battles Deglobalization’s Bitter Trade Winds
SquiD brand fish sauce, a name once as synonymous with Thai cuisine as Coca-Cola is with American soft drinks, now finds itself confronting a challenge familiar to fallen empires: how to survive when the conditions that birthed its dominance have fundamentally changed. The story of Thitaya Nitipitakarn, heir to the SquiD empire, isn’t just about fish sauce; it’s a parable for any legacy brand navigating a world of accelerating change, fickle consumers, and a protectionist resurgence. How do you preserve the soul of a product steeped in tradition while reinventing it for a generation raised on oat milk lattes and instant gratification?
SquiD’s response is multi-pronged. Acknowledging that their classic green-label sauce has entered its “maturity stage,” they’ve diversified. Himalayan salt-infused, truffle-scented, even vegan fish sauce—these aren’t mere line extensions; they’re targeted attempts to capture new demographics, particularly in Western markets with growing interest in both health and exotic flavors. Khaosod reports on their ambitions.
“Any product made with care and quality will eventually find its market. It just takes time to find out where that market is.”
This resonates, but the strategic problem extends far beyond developing unique variants. At heart, SquiD must overcome the association of the commodity. If it becomes indistinguishable from the bulk options, a brand loses its strength. More than that, SquiD faces the inherent paradox of branding: can a product built on the umami of fermented anchovies truly be elevated to a luxury good without betraying its roots? It’s a question LVMH faced when it acquired Dom Pérignon; how do you democratize access without diminishing the exclusivity that drives demand?
The challenges facing SquiD illuminate broader trends in globalization and consumer behavior. The company’s struggle to crack the Chinese market highlights the limits of simply transplanting a product, however iconic, into a new cultural and economic context. Chinese consumers have access to their own, far cheaper, locally produced fish sauces. Even “premium” offerings might not appeal. This reflects a broader pattern of rising nationalism and a preference for local brands, a phenomenon seen across industries and countries. Consider the resurgence of German engineering, or the embrace of domestic K-beauty brands over Western imports in South Korea. This isn’t simply about price; it’s about identity and a renewed sense of national pride.
Furthermore, SquiD’s exposure to “Trump tariffs” exposes the fragility of global supply chains. It’s also indicative of the precariousness of businesses operating in a world where trade relationships can shift at the whim of political actors. These aren’t isolated events; they are symptoms of a broader move away from the free-trade consensus that defined the last few decades, a shift driven by concerns about national security and economic inequality. This echoes the protectionist sentiments that swept through Europe in the 1930s, ultimately contributing to a global economic crisis and, some argue, laying the groundwork for war.
The issue is that businesses have optimized production for global access, as economies of scale reduced costs. Tariff actions, like those observed when the United States applied import duties, interrupt the supply chain, and force firms to find new, often less efficient methods to produce and deliver products. This isn’t just about SquiD’s bottom line; it’s about the future of global commerce in an era of deglobalization.
To survive, SquiD must do more than adapt its product line. It must build resilience into its business model, diversifying its markets and supply chains, and investing in brand equity to justify a premium price. The brand must continue to educate customers. In many ways, SquiD’s fate mirrors that of entire national economies. In his research, Harvard Business School professor Michael Porter has repeatedly pointed out that sustained advantages rely on improving productivity and competitive factors, not simply exploiting cheaper costs. But Porter also emphasized the importance of “clusters”—geographic concentrations of interconnected companies and institutions—for fostering innovation. Can SquiD create its own “fish sauce cluster,” leveraging Thai culinary heritage and traditions to build a competitive advantage that transcends price?
The path forward requires navigating shifting political alliances. Beyond finding the market and perfecting quality, Thitaya has to work within regulatory frameworks. The company is exposed to political trade action. It isn’t enough to make quality products. Rather, global brands are more vulnerable than ever. The company’s ongoing journey demonstrates the enduring paradox of modern capitalism: even the most beloved brands must constantly reinvent themselves to remain relevant in a world that’s constantly in flux, and where the very forces that enabled their initial success—globalization, free trade, and boundless consumerism—are now sources of profound instability. And that’s a bitter truth, even without the taste of fermented anchovies.
