Is Cameron a statesman or a showman?

The truth is that David Cameron caught a break over Libya. But next time he may not be so lucky

Some good news for Nick Clegg. He has an admirer. Now the bad news. His fan is sitting 2,000 miles away in the West Bank town of Ramallah.

"If I was living in Britain I'd vote for Clegg," says Dr Husam Zomlot, deputy commissioner for international relations for Fatah. "I'm still what you call left-wing, but obviously after what the Labour government did I couldn't support them." He smiles, "I'm speaking in a personal capacity, of course."

In a few hours he is preparing to depart for a visit to London and other European capitals. He will be travelling in expectation, not just hope.

"We're looking to Europe to help us move the process forward. Britain, Germany and France are key." Is Britain now seen to be playing a positive role from the Palestinian point of view? "Absolutely. Cameron and Hague have come a long way. They're prepared to take an independent line from the United States. This is very important."

The product of the Bullingdon Club and the product of the PLO executive committee have found common cause.

Ever be a diplomat

In the centre of Jerusalem, Mark Regev, official spokesman for the Israeli prime minister, Binyamin Netanyahu, has a different perspective on David Cameron's role in the search for regional peace.

"To be honest, I'm not really that up to speed with current UK policy, or changes from the stance of the previous UK administration," says Regev. "You're better off putting that question to one of my colleagues in the foreign affairs ministry."

Contrast with his response on the status of other allies. "Prime Minister Netanyahu and Prime Minister Papandreou are on the phone constantly. We have an excellent relationship with the Cypriots, who are an important regional partner. We are developing our links with eastern European states like Bulgaria."

Regev's ignorance of UK policy is, of course, diplomatic. Other Israeli officials are more blunt: "What do we think when we hear the British Prime Minister referring to Gaza as a prison camp? It won't surprise you to learn we don't find it helpful."

Statements of intent

When Tony Blair said in the wake of September 11, "the kaleidoscope has been shaken. The pieces are in flux", he wasn't kidding. If you view Iraq as Blair's nemesis, and his departure the beginning of the end of the Labour government, the reordered image in which a Tory PM is praised in Ramallah and subtly snubbed in Jerusalem is uneasy on the eye but was foreseeable.

On one level, this strange state of affairs is simply the fruition of a stance trailed by William Hague as far back as 2006. Any article written by the then shadow foreign secretary headlined "We should not be afraid to criticise Israel" would send a signal. That it was written at precisely the moment Hezbollah was sending 4,000 Katyusha rockets slamming into Israeli cities, and Tel Aviv was pledging "a very painful and far-reaching response", represented a clear statement of policy intent for a future Tory government.

There is also the political reality on the ground. The peace process has stalled, the Netanyahu coalition has neither the wit nor the political capital to restart it, and Downing Street clearly feels there is little to be lost in ruffling the feathers of a lame-duck administration.

But there is another factor. Cameron simply cannot help approaching foreign affairs like a bull in search of a china shop. It may be unfashionable to say this at a time when he is being widely feted as the Lion of Benghazi. But though his instincts on Libya were right, his policy implementation has been lousy. Lest we forget, it was his Foreign Secretary who informed the world a no-fly zone was unnecessary, except perhaps over Caracas.

It was Cameron himself who marched the troops up the hill in his initial statement to the Commons, only to have his spokesman spin them back down again 24 hours later. Britain's Prime Minister failed to get even the principle of a military response inserted into the EU's Libya communiqué, didn't talk to the US president for nine full days in advance of the tabling of the no-fly resolution, and had to rely on the Arab League to convince the US that they had the necessary cover to take a resolution to the UN.

The truth is David Cameron caught a break over Libya. Next time he may not be so lucky. And next time is fast approaching.

Play it big?

Let us return to Dr Zomlot. His visit is not to exchange pleasantries. It's part of a concerted push for full EU recognition of a Palestinian state, regardless of the status of the peace process, when the Obama deadline for resolution expires in September.

On present form, Cameron may be inclined to pitch to the gallery. Recognition would be a bold gesture. And our Prime Minister has a taste for the big political play.

But not automatically the right one. The collapse of negotiations was not necessarily viewed as harmful by the Palestinians, in particular Hamas. Recognition would not of itself kick-start that process, very possibly the reverse. And recognising a state governed by a political authority that has consistently postponed elections, in the face of opposition from what, inconveniently for Israel's critics, remains the Middle East's only true functioning democracy, would hardly fit the spirit of the "Arab spring".

David Cameron has survived his first significant foreign-policy trial, but he's done so by the skin of his teeth. Those to come will require statesmanship, not showmanship. His reaction to premature calls for Palestinian statehood will test whether he possesses it.

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Donald Trump's cartoon nuclear rhetoric draws on a culture of American jingoism

Senior Republicans avoided condemning Trump's incendiary speech, and some endorsed it. 

From recent headlines, it seems as though Donald Trump isn't content with his Emmy-by-proxy. The US president told the United Nations General Assembly this week: “The United States has great strength and patience, but if it is forced to defend itself or its allies, we will have no choice but to totally destroy North Korea.” Trump’s speech raised eyebrows for its bellicose tone, especially when contrasted with his predecessor’s endorsement of a war-averse approach. 

A widely circulated image of Trump's chief of staff John Kelly with his head in his hand might suggest that most listeners loathed the speech. But Trump said many outrageous things on the campaign trail and voters - at least a critical number of them - agreed. So how did his words go down at home? 

My contacts in international security were unwilling to go on the record condemning it. They were mainly Americans in their twenties, hoping for a government job one day, and fearful of saying anything that could be interpreted as "un-American".

The one person who would speak to me asked for their name to withheld. A former military analyst in the US Department of Defence, they told me that “the US has the military capability and legal responsibility to address threats to itself or allies". What Trump said, they suggested, should be seen in the context of the wider US institutions. "While Trump may have advocated for isolation in the past, the political and military forces he leads are built to enforce the adherence to international law and regional security," the former analyst said. "They provide a real counterweight to the bombast in Pyongyang.”

Trump's speech may have been colourful - his nickname for the North Korean leader Kim Jong-un, "Rocket Man", is a reference to Elton John’s mid-Cold War musical hit – but the speech should be seen as yet another reassertion of US military dominance. North Korea may boast of its Inter-Continental Ballistic Missile (ICBM) development,  but its arsenal is simply not well-equipped enough to present the same existential threat to the US that the USSR did at its peak. 

Rather than lacking comprehension, the analyst said of the speech: “Trump's rhetoric is intended to galvanise recognition that the current rules based order is threatened by North Korea's actions”.

Trump’s jingoism is not unique amongst the current American elite. Back in 1983, in his book, The Wizards of Armageddon, the liberal journalist Fred Kaplan characterised the hawkish US military strategy as simply ejaculating combative statements without a long-term plan. Kaplan quoted Herman Kahn, one of the early nuclear strategists, who called one proposal targeting the USSR a “war orgasm”. 

The US Senate recently passed a defence policy bill to increase military spending to $700bn, which includes $8.5bn for missile defence purposes. Overtly catastrophic language, meanwhile, has long been a staple of US foreign policy debates. In 2015, Trump's rival for the Republican presidential nomination, Ted Cruz, made headlines when he vowed to carpet-bomb Isis until he found out "if sand can glow in the dark". While most leading Republicans chose to stay silent after Trump's speech, a few, such as Paul Ryan and Rand Paul, publicly endorsed the message. Cruz, despite the rivalry, was among them. 

On social media, the American public are vocally divided. Some called for Trump to be denounced for his inflammatory speech, but others tweeted #MakeAmericaGreatAgain. Even some Trump sceptics agreed that the North Korea “nuclear summer” needed to be kept in check.

By contrast, overseas listeners have perceived the speech, and this administration’s foreign policy, as unnecessarily incendiary. Matt Korda, a Canadian research assistant on strategic stability at the UK-based Centre for Science and Security Studies,  told me: “Kim Jong-un perceives his nuclear weapons to be the only thing guaranteeing his regime's survival”.

“He will never give them up, no matter how much Trump threatens him," Korda added. “On the contrary: Trump's threat to ‘totally destroy’ the entire country (including millions of innocent and oppressed civilians) will only tighten Kim's grip on his nuclear weapons”.

The effects of Trump’s speech are yet to fully play out, but it is clear that his words have rallied at least a section of American society, and rankled everyone else. The Donald may seem to be mirroring the culture of nuclear recklessness his North Korean opponent helped to create, but this is also the kind of hostile and hyperbolic rhetoric which fuelled his rise to power. In reality, once Trump’s unpleasant vernacular is decoded, he can be seen to be echoing the same global view that has long pervaded the collective American consciousness. Trump's speech was not addressed at his UN doubters, but rather at his domestic fan base and his allies in the South Pacific. This is not a shift in US foreign policy - it is tradition with a spray-tan.

 

 

Anjuli R. K. Shere is a 2016/17 Wellcome Scholar and science intern at the New Statesman