Iran Crisis: They Wanted Sovereignty. Just Not Like This

If anyone has ruined the special relationship, it's not Starmer- it's Trump

No-one knows when or how the US/Israel/Iran war will end. No-one even truly knows what it's for. Both facts ought to give any prime minister pause before committing British forces. That obvious point has been barely reflected by much of our media or political class this week, where the clamour for war has been thunderous. The shadows of Iraq and Libya seem to loom long over everyone but much of the commentariat and British right. Most voters don't want us involved. Watch how little that matters to the people making the argument that we should be.

I shed no tears at the death of the Ayatollah, a murderous bastard. Nor do I have any truck with a tedious, reflexive left-wing thinking that the United States is the root cause of all that is wrong with the world. I’m a pro-American Atlanticist who is hawkish on defence. But let’s remind ourselves of the facts. The Trump administration has offered multiple justifications for this war, including: stopping a nuclear weapon — despite the fact that Trump and Netanyahu claimed they had “obliterated the programme” only last June — defending Israel, acting because Israel was going to act anyway, and regime change for the Iranian people (in which case, why not strike when the protests were in full swing?). These justifications did not evolve. They contradicted each other, sometimes within the same news cycle. The multiplying rationales are not a sign of strategic breadth. They are a sign that nobody is fully in charge of the answer to the most basic question any democracy should ask before going to war: what exactly are we trying to achieve, and how will we know when we’ve done it?

We might imagine, therefore, that the British domestic political debate would recognise that the call Starmer has had to make is a delicate one. Yes, our security relies on the United States. Yes, we want Trump to act on our priorities, including Ukraine. Yes, Iran is no friend of ours and we want the regime to fall. But likewise — what are the risks of committing British forces to an effort where no legal justification has been offered, and which is entirely without obvious method, intent or objective? How do we weigh the costs of inaction against how unknowable the consequences may be?

We’ve had little of that. Instead we’ve had newspaper headlines and columnists screaming about British “irrelevance”, about Starmer’s timidity and weakness, about Churchill and 1940 — always 1940 — as though every crisis is the same crisis and every hesitation is appeasement. The sophisticated strategic debate this moment demands has been replaced, as it so often is, by a competition over who can sound most certain about something nobody actually understands.

Part of this has been the endless accusation that Starmer has “ruined” the special relationship. That charge is levied with zero context about where the relationship actually stands. The analysis, conveniently deployed for domestic political purposes, leaves out entirely the fact that if Trump had been a better and more reliable partner to Britain, to Starmer and to Europe, there would be considerably more trust from the British government — and considerably more consent among the British people — to back the Trump administration when asked.

As it is, if the relationship is damaged, those journalists, commentators, politicians and Oval Office aides might soberly ask themselves who damaged it. It was Trump who attacked President Zelensky in the Oval Office and who has repeatedly sided with fascistic Russia over democratic Ukraine and Europe. It was Trump who slapped the UK with unnecessary tariffs. It was Trump who signed up to the Chagos agreement, only to renege. It was Trump who pulled out of the tech deal. It was Trump who said our troops hadn’t done much in Afghanistan. It was Trump who threatened to invade the territory of a sovereign NATO ally and who has repeatedly threatened to shatter the alliance. It is Trump and his cronies who insult the Prime Minister’s political colleagues and constantly interfere in our politics. It is Trump who refused to put Elon Musk on a leash as he backs far-right political figures and calls Starmer’s ministers “rape genocide apologists.” It is Trump whose security strategy absurdly warns that the UK faces “civilisational erasure” and suggests the administration will back extremist forces. It is Trump’s Vice President who spreads lies about the decline of free speech in Britain. And it is Trump who now expects the Prime Minister to blindly sign up to a war of choice with zero preparation and no regard for international opinion. What’s special about this relationship, exactly?

For those who seriously argue that Starmer has ruined that relationship, the corollary of their argument must be that UK isn’t allowed to operate an even moderately independent foreign policy outside of the United States. That is historically illiterate, wrong and plain weird for people who constantly tell us how sovereignty is what matters most. It has been darkly comic to watch the people who spent years making sovereignty a kink decide that it doesn’t turn them on after all. They told us it was necessary to create endless bureaucracy over trivial matters with Europe in the name of that sovereignty — yet seem enraged when this prime minister actually exercises it, by refusing to act in total lockstep with a United States president who is openly committed to dismantling the geopolitical order in which Starmer believes.

There are, of course, legitimate questions for the government. About Britain’s military readiness. About what we’ve communicated to Washington privately, as opposed to what we’ve said publicly. About how it could be that we still don’t have a ship in the region, despite clear signals an attack was coming weeks ago. About whether we are spending enough money on defence (we’re not). These are serious questions. They deserve serious answers. But those are separate to the fevered, fact-free demand that Britain simply pick a side and start shooting — and call that a strategy.

It’s being said a lot that the shadow of Iraq hangs over Keir Starmer and the Labour Party during this Iran crisis. As well it might. What’s remarkable is how little of the British media and political class seem to be thinking about it, or learning its lessons. Those lessons are far deeper and broader than the danger of boots on the ground. They include the possibility of wider regional conflict; the creation of lawless regions where terrorism can thrive; refugee flows which end at Europe’s doorstep; energy price spikes; wider unintended consequences; and the profound democratic damage done when a government takes a country to war on false or flimsy pretexts and is never seriously held to account for it. The question is not whether the shadow of Iraq hangs over him. It is why it is being ignored by so many in our public life.

Starmer, whisper it, has got it right. He has resisted the rabid bellicosity of the right, who want action without thought, and the empty inertia of the left who want to leave our allies defenceless when attacked. In a week of endless noise, that took more courage than he’s been given credit for.