Donald Trump likely hasn’t delved into the writings of Michel Foucault, yet he seemingly embodies the French philosopher’s assertion that politics is simply war with other tactics. This is clearly seen in his enthusiastic embrace of tariffs. To Trump, imposing taxes on foreign imports appears to be a strategy to revive the American economy, particularly to benefit the blue-collar workers who have been sidelined by free trade and globalization. However, the former president seems less concerned with truth or justice and more focused on leverage and dominance.
The UK is currently experiencing firsthand Trump’s tendency to frame issues in stark terms of allies versus adversaries. In this scenario, tariffs become tools of loyalty and dominance, sometimes even wielded against allies. If he follows through with his threat to slap a 20% tariff on all imports, it could stifle UK growth. The real impact would depend on how Britain responds. Without a British counteraction, GDP might shrink by 0.4% this year and 0.6% next year. A full-blown global trade war might push those numbers even higher, erasing any fiscal leeway the government might currently have. While British policymakers are worried about tight fiscal margins, Trump seemingly sees no reason to disguise power in objective terms.
The logic behind Trump’s tariffs might seem muddled, yet two main factors appear to be influencing his decisions. First, there’s his self-portrayal as the ultimate dealmaker, someone capable of turning any situation in his favor. Second, he views politics as a means to structure society in a way that benefits specific groups—not just economically, but in terms of legitimacy and shaping reality. He’s likely to lift tariffs if other nations meet his demands, which in turn would curry favor with politically advantageous constituencies, tech allies, or his affluent donors.
This approach is evident in the superficial “economic deal” hammered out between the UK and the US, which may lead to Trump easing tariffs—assuming the US endorses it. Reports suggest it might further open UK markets to American agribusiness, put an end to the digital services tax targeting companies like Amazon and Google, and complicate holding AI firms, including those owned by Musk, accountable for misconduct. The underlying peril is Trump’s inclination to use tariffs as leverage whenever he faces a grievance, threatening to impose them, only to lift if others comply with his wishes.
Trump’s tactics become even more apparent with the EU, which plans to impose fines on companies like Apple and Meta under its digital competition rules. After having initially supported Trump, Meta’s Mark Zuckerberg is now calling in a favor, persuading the administration to integrate his regulatory battles with Brussels into their tariff strategy, thereby transforming regulations into another front in Trump’s trade saga.
The sheer magnitude of Trump’s so-called “Liberation Day” is what makes it especially risky. In 2024, the US registered a staggering $1.2 trillion trade goods deficit. With his imminent return to the White House, Trump has already slapped tariffs on goods from Canada, Mexico, China, alongside all steel, aluminum imports, and foreign cars and auto parts. His sights now appear set on allies in Asia, including Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, India, and Vietnam.
What unfolds looks less like a coherent trade policy and more like performance-driven politics, where coercion, allegiance, and drama intersect. This brings Foucault’s theories to life not as abstract concepts but as practical exercises in power—deployed through disruption and deal-making that reward loyalty and penalize defiance. Like many others, Britain navigates this complex new landscape. While Trump may not be a Foucault scholar, he seems to understand the message: For him, war isn’t politics’ opposite—it is politics.
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