The pomp won’t save him: why Epstein will eclipse Trump’s UK visit
An op-ed by Melino Maka
Donald Trump did not cross the Atlantic in search of questions. He came for ceremony—carriages, uniforms, a carefully stage-managed affirmation of the “special relationship.” But the story that will stalk him from tarmac to toast is not trade, Ukraine, or a photo-op with royalty. It is Jeffrey Epstein. And no amount of gilt-edged pageantry can varnish that away.
The Epstein saga isn’t simply a historical footnote resurfacing for mischief. Fresh scraps—lawsuits, leaked correspondence, activist stunts—have given the controversy new oxygen just as Trump lands in London. Westminster is jumpy too, with renewed scrutiny of British elites who crossed paths with Epstein. That combustible mix guarantees the topic will intrude on every press spray and pooled question. The choreography may be royal; the soundtrack will be relentlessly tabloid.
Trump’s playbook: how he’ll try to change the subject
Trump’s communications strategy is not a mystery; it’s repetition. Expect five familiar moves:
- Litigate to delegitimize. Point to defamation suits and demand that journalists treat litigation as exoneration. The legal filings are props as much as briefs—designed to brand reporting “fake” without touching the underlying facts. When specifics arise, he’ll default to lawyerly fog: “I haven’t seen that,” “total fabrication,” “talk to counsel.”
- Whataboutism, UK edition. Pivot from questions about his own history to Britain’s Epstein-adjacent embarrassments. If the goal is to convert scrutiny into symmetry—“everyone had contact; why single me out?”—then highlighting Westminster hypocrisies is the easiest way to muddy the moral waters.
- Pageantry as smokescreen. Flood the zone with optics: a palace staircase, a business roundtable, a bilateral communique thick with adjectives and thin on commitments. The hope is that editors will feel obliged to lead with the “state visit” trappings and bury the messy bits below the fold.
- Press management by attrition. Keep questions short, access tighter, and answers shortest of all. Trump favors monologues over dialogue: a long opening statement, a canned sound bite, then a handoff to a friendly outlet. If cornered by a forensic follow-up, he’ll escalate—attack the premise, the reporter, or both.
- Counterprogramming on loop. Expect a barrage of social posts and surrogate interviews hammering tariffs, migration, and “law and order.” The tactic is to make editors choose between covering the controversy and ignoring “news” he is manufacturing in real time.
None of this guarantees success. It only guarantees noise. And noise is not the same as narrative control—especially when the pictures don’t cooperate.
The imagery problem
Politics is visual before it is verbal. Protesters have ensured that London’s skyline will share screen-time with giant reminders of Trump’s past proximity to Epstein. Even if many Britons barely glance up, broadcast producers will not. A single cutaway—motorcade gliding past an unflattering banner, a royal backdrop interrupted by a viral placard—can eclipse a thousand carefully crafted talking points. In the economy of attention, one striking image can bankrupt a communications strategy.
Starmer’s tightrope
Prime Minister Keir Starmer also enters this week on a wobble. He wants stability, investment headlines, and proof that Britain can still do serious business with Washington. He also knows that being seen as too solicitous risks domestic backlash.
Three issues complicate his calculus:
- Palestinian statehood. London has signalled it may move toward recognition. Trump has previously resisted such steps, and any hint of divergence will detonate in the joint Q&A, where both leaders will want to avoid lines that age poorly on social media.
- Ukraine security guarantees. Starmer is pushing for durable Western commitments; Trump’s instinct is to buck-pass costs to Europe. The best either can hope for, publicly, is a careful sentence—support without specifics.
- Tariffs and trade optics. UK manufacturers, from steel to autos, want tangible relief from U.S. duties. Starmer needs something he can wave on the factory floor. Trump prefers optionality. That’s a negotiating mismatch, and both know it.
In short, Starmer wants deliverables; Trump wants headlines. Epstein wants to be the headline.
The press-conference trapdoors
If this trip yields a defining clip, it will likely come from a question that forces a binary: Will you release the contested material for independent verification? If Trump says yes, he invites a forensic process he cannot control. If he says no, he looks like he has something to hide. If he attacks the premise, he produces the very moment—anger, evasion, a flash of pique—that editors love to loop. The second trapdoor is the “values” frame: Does associating with Epstein’s circle violate the standards you insist others meet? Moral asymmetry, not legal nuance, is where audiences make up their minds.
What would actually change the story
There are only two things powerful enough to beat the Epstein drum:
- A concrete, immediate win for the UK. Not a discussion, not a task force—a signed carve-out on tariffs, a named investment with jobs attached, or a dated roadmap that binds the U.S. to a timetable. Anything less will feel like spin and sink under the weight of the scandal narrative.
- A candid, verifiable accounting. Short of that, a crisp mea culpa about poor judgment—paired with documentary transparency—could puncture the balloon. But Trump doesn’t do contrition, and transparency is not his register. Expect neither.
The verdict
State visits are designed to manufacture dignity. But dignity is not the same as seriousness, and seriousness is what the Epstein saga demands. Trump’s team will throw every decoy they have: lawsuits waved like absolution, palace pomp, friendly mic time, a torrent of unrelated “news.” The British press will keep tugging the conversation back to a single, stubborn question: what, exactly, do we know—and what are you willing to let us verify?
Absent a hard deliverable for Britain or an unusually forthright answer from Trump, this trip will be remembered less for the banquet than for the banner. The spectacle he craves will proceed on schedule. The story he dreads will, too.
