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The Guardian EDITORIAL
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There is truth to US President Donald Trump’s declaration earlier this week that the UK-US relationship is “not what it was,” although there is no indication that he understands the reasons for the change.
Trump said he is “very disappointed” that British Prime Minister Keir Starmer has been “uncooperative” in the war against Iran, offering only limited logistical support to US forces. Starmer’s concession that Royal Air Force resources could be involved in defensive operations does not compensate for the prior refusal to put Britain’s military assets at the US’ disposal. It came too late for Trump, whose irritation turned to culture-war jibes about “windmills” ruining British landscapes and false claims about the prevalence of sharia courts.
Starmer is not the only European leader guilty of lese-majeste. Spanish Prime Minister Pedro Sanchez has been forthright in opposition to the Iran war. In response, Trump threatened to cut off all trade, saying he no longer wanted “anything to do with Spain.”
Starmer is right to keep his distance from a military operation with no justification in law and incoherent objectives. However, judicious caution does not protect the UK from repercussions if Trump’s irritation should mutate into a longer grudge.
There are important differences between the Spanish and British situations. As an EU member, Spain trades with the US as part of the European single market. Disagreements about Iran could complicate relations between Washington and Brussels, but Trump would not sever economic ties with the bloc just to spite Sanchez. Post-Brexit Britain is more exposed to vindictive unilateral action. Trump’s power to impose tariffs on a whim has been curtailed but certainly not ended by a US Supreme Court decision.
There are other areas of UK-US commerce — a multibillion-pound “tech prosperity deal” being negotiated, for example — where a souring of diplomatic relations could have swift economic consequences.
Then there is the problem of military dependency. All European NATO members have relied on US power to guarantee their security, but for Britain, the “special relationship” extended to a thorough enmeshing of systems. The technological infrastructure of UK national defense is wired to the Pentagon in ways that cannot simply be disregarded.
The contrast with France, whose security and defense capabilities have evolved out of Gaullist mistrust of the US, is notable. French President Emmanuel Macron was an early advocate of “strategic autonomy” from Washington, before most continental leaders anticipated a crisis in transatlantic relations. Last week, Macron proposed extending his country’s nuclear deterrent to other European countries for the first time.
The asymmetry of military heft between the US military and every other NATO member’s forces remains the dominant material consideration in European security, but the diplomatic and political calculus is changing rapidly. In this context, Britain’s detachment from the European project looks increasingly misjudged and hazardous.
Starmer is rightly pursuing a policy of closer European cooperation in defense and security policy, but negotiations are moving slowly. Trump’s erratic temperament and volatile actions make a compelling case for moving faster. The legacy of Brexit complicates the relationship with Europe, but it does not alter the strategic imperative of making common cause with continental allies.
