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Statecraft and skilful diplomacy depend, as a prerequisite, on the adherence of those interested parties to a shared reality.
This shared reality is composed of two parts: the subjective and the objective. The former concerns the communal history and values of a relationship. A collective stock of political-moral principles, subsistent and borne of a common past, will create a framework in which deals can be agreed. The latter pertains to material reality and measurable outcomes: intelligence sharing, military interoperability, cooperation on trade.
These “shared realities” are sustained by an interdependency. The cultural ease of a diplomatic encounter will affect the level and extent of coordination. Consider also the converse formulation: when there is a rupture in a shared subjective reality, objective progress is obstructed — even thwarted altogether.
Appearing before the Lords international relations and defence committee on Wednesday, four former British ambassadors to Washington were asked whether there is such thing as a UK-US “special relationship” and, if there is, in whose interest it serves today. Dame Karen Pierce (UK ambassador from 2020-2025) described the partnership as “unique”, “deep” and “successful” — but warned that the US is not “sentimental about it”. Sir Peter Westmacott (2012-2016) suggested it was fundamentally “transactional”. Sir David Manning (2003 to 2007) agreed, cautioning that the term can make us “lazy” and even induce a diplomatic moral hazard. Sir Nigel Sheinwald (2007 to 2012) spoke bluntly, arguing the US-UK relationship is of “declining importance in world affairs”.
The diplomats agreed that the historic success of the so-called “special relationship” flowed, in significant part, from our cultural conviviality — which has for decades transcended partisan boundaries.
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Reality, shared or otherwise, has never known a foe like Donald Trump. On a daily basis, the US president uproots norms that once underpinned the US-UK relationship. The challenge was expressed best by Manning, whose diplomatic understatement spoke volumes. He told the committee: “I think we have to be realistic. On a lot of policies, we don’t necessarily have exactly the same view [as the Trump administration] — and it may be much worse than that.”
The MAGA (Make America Great Again) worldview does not correspond with the official British state interest. It is too rigid, unmoving. Activists profess moral objections. But on a basic diplomatic level, it is intolerable. Trump relies on a Thucydidean conception of geopolitics: “The strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must”. If might makes right, then a middling power like the United Kingdom is destined to be wrong. Trump admires Vladimir Putin because he conceives of him as an equal competitor; and so the Russian premier is afforded a level of respect that US presidents once reserved for Western allies. (MAGA, of course, seems more interested in annexing its neighbours than engaging with them as equal partners).
From the perspective of Britain, the political instincts of the Trump administration are decidedly hostile. Nicholas Soames, the former Tory MP and member of the Lords international relations committee, asserted on Wednesday that Trump’s team “despises Europe”. Churchill’s grandson has a point. MAGA movers and shakers consider the European continent — including if not especially the UK — as a blank canvas, onto which dystopian fictions can be projected. This is the role JD Vance has adopted in the administration: pursuant to the MAGA cause, he derives political sustenance from denigrating Europe. Driven by ambition and paranoia, every pronouncement, every speech, every Oval Office intervention can be considered a claim staked to the MAGA crown. The court dynamics of Trump’s White House represent a one-way ratchet to further radicalisation.
So the new administration has upended our historic understanding of the US-UK relationship, “special” or otherwise. Keir Starmer’s visit to Washington DC last week, several geopolitical eras ago, was well-mannered and apparently productive. But the chasm between the disparate realities that drive US and UK foreign policy is already having a material impact. Do not doubt it for one second: the US siding with Russia and North Korea at the United Nations, Trump’s decision to suspend military assistance to Ukraine — these are not blips or bugs in the MAGA worldview. They are irrevocable features.
The UK has always been the junior partner of the asymmetric “special relationship”. And so as Trump assumes the role of raging bull, Britain alongside its European allies sweep up the shattered china. The United Kingdom is, in other words, a “reality-taker” — not a -maker. The prime minister must adapt to survive in the world Trump is forging.
It would be unfair to contend that Starmer is responding to Trump by recasting his government in the president’s image. Rather, the PM is reconfiguring his politics to adapt to Trumpism, its rigours, the world it has thrived in — and the world it seeks to create. So he has made concessions. The war in Ukraine, as the US president has decreed, will now end. Europe, in light of the US’ isolationist posturing, will “step up”. Even the prime minister’s visibility on the world stage is a response to the vacuum left by the departed US.
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Trump 2.0 demands Starmer 2.0
After months of relative drift, navigating Trump’s new reality has imbued the government with a sense of purpose. The Starmer who presided and adjudicated has been replaced by a variant who acts. Whatever the prime minister lost when Trump assumed power — a new urgency has been gained. “Events, dear boy” have blown Starmer on course.
Starmer’s announcement that defence spending will rise to 2.5 per cent in 2027 — a move he acknowledged was “accelerated” by the US position on Ukraine — was a manifestation of brute prime ministerial power. This was not a path resolved upon by the collective consent of cabinet; ministers were told just hours before Starmer’s commons statement. In a more abstract sense, this was not a decision made by the government’s “Treasury brain” or its “party/progressive brain”. The resolved course owes itself, solely and sufficiently, to No 10’s assessment of the geopolitical runes.
Starmer 2.0 is a diplomatic necessity therefore, forged by the fires of international crisis — but he is also a political opportunity. The prime minister has conducted a “reset” orders of magnitude more far-reaching than that foreseen by 2024’s “Plan for Change” address.
Nor, crucially, is Starmer’s present footing uneasy for the PM and his closest confidantes. Downing Street chief of staff Morgan McSweeney has long argued that progressive parties must adopt a new playbook. The US presidential election on 5 November reconfigured the political calculus; but the solution Starmer and McSweeney have arrived at owes itself to a trusted formula. This point explains why Starmer, counterintuitively, has found focus in this fast-changing world.
But still, developments demand a more definitive break with the old order of things. Trump boasted to Congress on Tuesday night that he was “just getting started”. Having largely completed the pre-scripted portion of his premiership, Trump 2.0’s grid will soon appear empty for the first time. In a bid to retain the agenda, MAGA frontiersmen will continue to expand the bounds of diplomatic reality.
And so greater ruthlessness is required. Starmer has already set course for a political mooring some distance to the right of the median Labour MP. But further progressive shibboleths will surely be sacrificed as security is privileged. This week, the Parliamentary Labour Party began preparations for an almighty battle over welfare spending. Expect more Anneliese Dodds’ as Starmer rewires the state.
Meanwhile, a final decision over whether to seize frozen Russian assets, which foreign secretary David Lammy is apparently supportive of, could provoke further conflict with the attorney general. As I have argued before, each instance of ministerial friction with Lord Hermer is totemic. But in a practical sense, Starmer will win no plaudits for adhering to a maximalist interpretation of international law when the fate of Ukraine is on the line. The PM proved something of a trailblazer in Europe on defence spending — will he provide similar leadership over the seizure of Russian assets?
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British politics beyond Starmer
Nor is Trump’s impact on British politics limited to Labour and Keir Starmer. The Conservative Party is still struggling to come to terms with the US president’s rolling announcements, as MPs freelance beyond the party line.
Kemi Badenoch, implicitly or explicitly, is having her authority tested.
Several Tory MPs reacted angrily to the comments delivered overnight on Monday by JD Vance, after he appeared to mock Britain as “some random country that hasn’t fought a war in 30 years”. Badenoch, when drawn on the remarks, urged “cool heads” — and denied the US vice president intended to denigrate Britain. But that intervention came several hours after her own shadow defence secretary, James Cartlidge, had issued a stinging rebuke.
The developments of recent weeks have also put paid to the idea that Reform UK would benefit from having a populist ally in the White House. In the House of Commons this week, Nigel Farage could hardly have looked more uncomfortable as he responded to the prime minister’s statement on geopolitical developments. The Reform leader’s ostensible question concerned US security guarantees, and specifically whether a Trump-Ukraine raw materials deal can provide requisite protection. Starmer said no and instructed Farage to cease “fawning over Putin”. Reform, distracted by internecine scuffles, has yet to advance a compelling counter-argument.
As a parliamentarian and party leader, Farage is exposed — no longer able to pronounce selectively from the sidelines. His facade of populistic invincibility has shattered.
Across the board, the US president has upended British politics — no party, faction or intellectual strand has been spared. Those who will fare best in the world carved anew by Trump 2.0 will defer to a coherent strategy — a North Star to trust when night descends.
There is still plenty of danger ahead for Starmer. But his diplomatic firefighting, complemented by a renewed focus at home, has an obvious political resonance. Whatever agency he has been afforded in this age of diplomatic disorder, he is utilising.
Starmer’s self-confidence is a start — and his opponents’ mistakes will prove reassuring. At this febrile juncture however, few doubt the prime minister will need to go further as the stakes ratchet upwards.
Josh Self is Editor of Politics.co.uk, follow him on Bluesky here.
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