Escaping the special relationship: How Britain can leave its dangerous dependency on Trump’s America

For the British, the myth of a special relationship with America dies hard. Like all good myths, it contains a kernel of truth. The US-UK security relationship, with signals-intelligence and nuclear programmes at its heart, remains uniquely close. But the myth also provides a comforting psychological purpose for a country still trying to adjust to its diminished, post-imperial status. From the prime minister to the man in the street, Britons have taken comfort in the illusion that their country remains a uniquely important ally of the leader of the free world, valued and esteemed for the quality of its armed forces, its networks and its wise diplomatic counsel.

Successive American presidents have seen the obvious advantage in indulging this British neediness. Until, that is, the return of Donald Trump to the White House. During his incoherent first term, excuses could be found for his occasional worrying outbursts, such as his description of the EU as a foe, and of NATO as obsolete. But as Trump’s second term unfolds, even the man in the street is now aware that Trump’s worldview is antithetical to British values. When British defence of Greenland’s sovereignty is met with insults and the threat of tariffs, the special relationship has clearly been reduced to little more than Trumpian affection for the Britain’s golf courses and its royal family

But the question remains: has prime minister Keir Starmer woken up to this too? His reluctance to criticise Trump may be sensible diplomacy. But when he asserts that there is no need to choose between the US and Europe, is he simply in denial about how the special relationship has turned toxic? Avoiding any such choice has for decades been the closest Britain has come to a grand strategy. But surely Starmer is not deluding himself that Trump is just an aberration, and that President J.D Vance will be nicer? Surely he must understand that Trump’s America is determined to subvert European democracy, and can no longer be trusted to honour its defence commitments?

Europe and the US are now engaged in a fundamental clash of civilizational values, leaving Britain no option but to side with Europe. Of course, Britain should not make some overt declaration of its choice but create a settled strategy to re-engage with Europe and disinvest from the transatlantic relationship.

The first part of that programme—re-engagement with Europe—is certainly on Starmer’s agenda. He always opposed Brexit and came to power promising a “reset” with Europe. In office, he has concluded bilateral security treaties with France and Germany, and a much- heralded defence and security partnership with the EU. But, overall, Britain’s progress reflects his chronic caution. Only recently has he begun to reveal the economic damage of Brexit—now that shifting public opinion has led the way. Similarly, it took increasing pressure from opposition parties before he was able to hint at bolder steps such as closer reintegration with the EU’s single market.

But in fairness to Starmer, the pace of re-engagement is not Britain’s to dictate. The EU has much else on its mind, and not all Europeans (least of all the French) feel ready to welcome back the prodigal. Last summer’s reset was meant to enable British participation in the EU’s multi-billion euro rearmament programme, SAFE, within “only a few weeks”. But negotiations deadlocked last autumn, though it seems the two sides may soon try again.

Sharing a continent caught between Putin and Trump, defence certainly looks an obvious area for UK-EU rapprochement—and for the UK to mitigate its overdependence on the US. Beyond the defence industrial agenda, nuclear deterrence is one opportunity. The idea that the UK and France might cooperate to provide a credible “Eurodeterrent” has been around for years. With the UK now painfully conscious of its reliance on the US to maintain its Trident missiles, there is talk of rebuilding a second British delivery option: nuclear bombs dropped from combat aircraft (something that Britain gave up at the end of the cold war). Yet, almost incredibly, the plan has become buying more American aircraft (the F 35, despite the widespread and plausible speculation about an American “kill switch”), armed with American bombs.

If Britain is ever to give up clutching at Uncle Sam’s coattails, it must change its partner for upgrading its nuclear deterrent from America to France

Across the Channel, France has retained the second leg of its deterrence entirely under French sovereign control.  And it has increased its credibility by replacing freefall bombs on its aircraft with nuclear-tipped standoff missiles. If Britain is ever to give up clutching at Uncle Sam’s coattails, it must change its partner for upgrading its nuclear deterrent from America to France, and use that cooperation to present Vladimir Putin with a combined European nuclear deterrent that should keep him honest.

Britain should also re-engage with its European allies in solving the other great conundrum that comes with defending their continent without America—how do they collectively deploy and command their national military forces? Such matters have been in NATO’s hands (that is, the Americans’) for generations. Periodic suggestions of creating a European army have never looked credible. But the problem is now urgent, and the idea of “strengthening the European pillar of NATO” is much advocated. But it is not clear how that will be realised when Americans hold all the top NATO jobs and the vital communication, intelligence and IT systems are largely dependent on US big tech.

From the macro level of strategic planning to awkward specifics such as how to command and control the collective air and missile defence systems now urgently needed, Europeans have many more questions than answers. Britain has long prided itself as a leading European military power. It is time now to demonstrate that leadership with European allies to find the right answers, urgently.