On the face of it, it might not seem such a big deal, the transfer of 550 soldiers from the centre of Iraq's second city to the airbase on the outskirts. But the exit of UK forces from Basra Palace marks a defining moment in British military and diplomatic history. For all the spin - and the withdrawal does seem to have been carried out with logistical skill - the army's overall mission has completely failed. One can only mourn the lost servicemen and women (not to mention the hundreds of thousands of civilians who have died) and sympathise with the soldiers and their officers used as playthings of a former leader's Manichaean dreams.

It is left to Tony Blair's successor to pick up the pieces. Gordon Brown has declared that the decision to shift the troops was a purely logistical one. True, the move had been foreshadowed, but it comes at a time when the British and US policies on Iraq have never been more discordant. It is worth noting that Brown appeared keen to make clear that he had not spoken to George Bush since their awkward meeting at Camp David in July. Just as the Brits were quitting Basra, Bush made a brief visit to Anbar Province in Iraq and, with the help of photo opportunities and Potemkin villages, declared that this year's "surge" of 30,000 troops had been a great success.

The president's self-delusion is legendary and will sustain him through a difficult few weeks when a number of reports on Iraq are presented to Congress. The first of these, from the US Government Accountability Office, noted that the Iraqi government was "dysfunctional" and had failed to meet 11 of the 18 key political and security benchmarks it had been set.

General David Petraeus, the commander of US forces in Iraq, says that by next March the American drawdown will begin. The administration says it will do what it can until then, accompanying its determination with a resentment of what it sees as the UK cutting and running. "After four years of British tutelage, police forces are infiltrated by sectarian militias. The British departure will cede huge areas to criminal gangs and rival militias," commented the New York Times. "The clear lesson of the British experience is that going partway is not a realistic option." US public opinion appears to combine an eagerness for American forces to get out with a certain querulousness that the Brits did it first.

As General Sir Mike Jackson and other military chiefs express public contempt for the US performance, and the Americans respond in kind, it might be tempting to cheer at a new candour in the transatlantic relationship and to see recent events as vindication of those who opposed the war. It might be justified to wonder why those who got it so wrong do not show more contrition, but that does not get us very far.

What matters now, as Sir Jeremy Greenstock writes on page 30, is to learn from our mistakes and to use them to forge a new foreign policy. Greenstock (who, too, was involved in the pre-Iraq debacle) is right to call for a reassessment of our relationship with the US and Europe, and to argue that the renewal of Trident is an expensive folly ill-suited to present and future security challenges.

The most urgent debate, as Greenstock and others point out, is over when and how we deploy our forces overseas. What is left of the so-called policy of humanitarian intervention? The focus of this has shifted to Afghanistan. Do we and Nato, under whose auspices we are supposed to be operating, have clear criteria for success and failure? Clearly at the moment we do not. And if one of the many lessons of Iraq is that "invasion-lite" is the worst of all options, then are we prepared to commit troops in sufficient numbers to achieve our ends?

One can understand that Gordon Brown might wish to be rid of the Iraq problem. It was not his war (although he did nothing to stop it), and he would like to move on. But he cannot. He must act now to help prevent a repetition. Brown has hinted he may hold some form of inquiry into the war, but not until all our forces return home. This is a smokescreen. Our soldiers do not want him to use them as an excuse for a delay. We need a full Royal Commission, and soon. We owe it to those who have died.

It’s just like the old days

Nostalgia for the 1970s knew no bounds earlier in the year when half the population tuned in to watch Life on Mars. But unlike DI Sam Tyler, the main character in the BBC police series, we do not need to be knocked down by a car to wake up in 1973. Thanks to Bob Crow, we are already reliving the decade. The Tube strike called by the RMT leader provided a real-life reminder of the Britain of the 1970s that we have lost.

The headlines match the times - not just "Government showdown with unions", we also have "Rock tour by the Police". Now all we need is to bring back Joe Lyons tea shops, close the Starbuckses that have turned us into a nation of skinny Frappuccino sippers and get rid of that fancy foreign muck that the observant will have noticed is to be found in restaurants throughout the land. Can anyone doubt that the humble British rissole was prized more highly when the garlic clove was viewed with suspicion? Or that a passion for focaccia has led us to forget the pleasures of the pineapple-garnished gammon steak?

Fashion has already rummaged through the treasure box and infused high-street styles with Seventies touches, while Hollywood has been raiding the decade for scripts to remake and mine our affection for the likes of Starsky and Hutch and The Dukes of Hazzard. The tale will be complete only when Hawaii Five-O returns to our screens on Sunday nights - except, of course, when it is interrupted by power cuts.

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