The art of the wedge by Emma Schneider

In the ever-turning carousel of geopolitics, May 2025 might be remembered less for policy breakthroughs and more for well-placed whispers, suggestive smirks, and that unmistakable orange shadow creeping into European affairs once again. President Donald J. Trump has been hinting at a “soft deal” with the United Kingdom. The sort of deal that sounds like it involves warm handshakes, a round of golf at Turnberry, and maybe a royal photo op or two.

But as ever with Trump, the velvet glove often hides a wrecking ball.

Because, let’s be honest: this isn’t just about trade. It’s about tectonics. The kind that shift alliances, rattle old friendships, and nudge once-stable unions toward fragmentation. The question then arises, and it’s not a new one: Does Donald Trump genuinely want a strong, sovereign UK as a preferred economic partner? Or is this another well-aimed swing in his long game to undermine the European Union, one polite customs deal at a time?

To put it plainly: is this “soft deal” just hardball in disguise?

Trump’s relationship with the European Union has always been a curious cocktail of disdain and jealousy. He respects strength, and the EU, with its sprawling bureaucracy, persistent currency, and 27-part choir of member states, has too often appeared to him as a bureaucratic behemoth masquerading as a moral compass. Worse, it doesn’t buy enough American gas, doesn’t praise American greatness often enough, and insists on things like carbon neutrality and human rights.

In short, it offends his dealmaker instincts.

Enter the UK: freshly bruised from Brexit, still clutching its Commonwealth nostalgia, and desperately trying to reinvent itself as “Global Britain.” For Trump, this was love at first divorce. A partner outside the EU's rules. An opportunity to prove that leaving Brussels doesn’t mean economic isolation, especially if Uncle Sam comes bearing trade agreements and flattery.

Cue the “soft deal” of May 2025: light on regulation, heavy on symbolism, and tailor-made for headlines like “Trump and Britain: A Special Relationship Reforged.”

But beneath the surface of this deal lies a sharpened wedge. Because every handshake Trump offers London seems strategically angled to drive just a little more distance between the UK and the EU. Every friendly tariff reduction is a not-so-subtle reminder that you don’t need Brussels to do business. And every shared press conference with a grinning British PM is another visual metaphor of the West’s split personality.

There’s a Roman echo to Trump’s playbook: divide and conquer. He didn’t invent the EU’s internal fractures, over migration, defense, or fiscal policy but he sure knows how to whistle into them.

Think about it. A UK leaning closer to Washington becomes less invested in EU alignment. A US-UK deal sets regulatory precedents that clash with European standards. Financial flows, corporate investments, even digital data policies—everything starts bending westward. And the more friction London experiences re-integrating into European frameworks, the more tempting Trump's open arms become.

It’s not sabotage in the traditional sense. It’s more… seduction through disruption.

By empowering the UK’s independence narrative, Trump amplifies the EU’s biggest insecurity: that it is, at its core, a fragile consensus. Not a federation. Not a superstate. But a group of very different nations playing in the same sandbox, often with different toys and very different tempers.

Here’s the rub. Trump doesn’t need to “destroy” the EU in any Bond-villain sense. He just needs to keep it fractured enough that it can’t challenge America’s economic supremacy or ideological reach. And for that, the UK is the perfect instrument. Familiar. English-speaking. Slightly angsty.

This isn’t just geopolitics, it’s psychology.

Every time the EU tries to negotiate from a position of unity, Trump throws a little chum in the water: a bilateral offer, a suggestive tweet, a better deal for Hungary or Italy or France if they “go it alone.” It's like playing poker with someone who keeps texting your teammates mid-hand.

So no, the “soft deal” isn’t about softer relations. It’s a strategic pressure point, applied with surgical precision. It's not about loving the UK, it’s about loving what the UK can do to the EU.

Ironically, this strategy might be just as dangerous for Britain as it is for Brussels. Because a Trump-led USA doesn’t offer deals, it offers dependencies. The kind that come with agriculture imports, healthcare privatization whispers, and the occasional diplomatic reprimand dressed as “advice.”

If Britain aligns too closely, it risks becoming a regulatory satellite of Washington. If it drifts too far from Europe, it loses market access and leverage. Stuck in the middle, Britain might one day wake up realizing it traded EU influence for American indulgence and got neither.

The question isn’t whether Trump wants to harm the EU. The question is whether he sees any value in it standing tall. And if history and hairdos, are any guide, Trump prefers mirrors to partnerships. He wants deals that reflect his strength, not unions that dilute it.

The “soft deal” with the UK may arrive on paper, wrapped in ribbon and smiles. But it will carry the fingerprints of a deeper agenda, one that doesn’t just trade in goods, but in geopolitical leverage.

And somewhere in Brussels, a weary diplomat will sigh, pour another espresso, and prepare for another round of what they now call Transatlantic Chess.

Let’s just hope the board holds together.