David Cameron outside 10 Downing Street on 27 February 2014. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Cameron’s petty and parochial view of politics has accelerated the decline of British power

There isn’t much point expecting a more sophisticated account of Britain’s role in the world from the Prime Minister.

Alone, Britain can do nothing to reverse a Russian land-grab in Ukraine. In concert with other European countries and the US, London has some influence over Moscow but even then not much. A western military adventure on Vladimir Putin’s threshold is unthinkable. That leaves diplomatic opprobrium and economic sanctions as the only levers, over which David Cameron’s hand hovers uncertainly.

Putin is betting that a fiscally fragile European Union will not fancy taking on Ukraine as a dysfunctional client state, nor jeopardising its eastern gas supplies to make a point about sovereignty in the Black Sea. He is right. If Russia demands possession of Crimea and strategic dominance of eastern Ukraine, Cameron and others will acquiesce.

There is nothing new in the exposure of Britain as a mediocrity among powers. Our credentials as a nation that matters – a big economy, a professional army, nuclear weapons, a seat on the UN Security Council – are carried over from the 20th century. It is not clear how that elevated status will be sustained. Nor is it necessarily plausible for Britain to imagine itself as a global force distinct from the EU when other players – the US, China, India – are the size of continents.

Cameron touches on this when he talks about a “global race” but he has in mind a commercial rivalry played out within globally recognised boundaries of free-market capitalism. A lesson from Crimea is that some states don’t play by those rules.

There isn’t much point expecting a more sophisticated account of Britain’s role in the world from the Prime Minister. It isn’t in his nature to dwell on perplexing things. His friends present his short attention span as a healthy aversion to ideology; a very British pragmatism. The ungenerous interpretation that circulates among disappointed Tory modernisers and angry traditionalists alike is of a high-spec public school dilettante, clever and self-assured enough to busk an answer to most questions but disinclined to interrogate matters in depth.

That temperament is reflected in foreign policy. Cameron has handled relations with the EU – a vital strategic alliance – as a function of Conservative Party management. In opposition, it was a hazardous topic to be avoided. In government, when evasion became impossible, he switched to obstructing co-operation and calling that reform.

His attitude to overseas conflicts has also evolved ad hoc. In opposition, he rejected Tony Blair’s model of liberalising vigilantism, asserting in 2008, “We cannot drop democracy from 10,000 feet.” In Downing Street, the focus switched to economic expediency. He styled himself as salesman-in-chief of UK wares.

The limitations of diplomacy as mercantilist roadshow were exposed by the Arab spring. As brittle dictatorships crumbled in northern Africa, Cameron discovered a Blair-like capacity for human rights evangelism. In Libya, that became military support for a rebel insurgency. The relative success of that enterprise from Downing Street’s point of view – Colonel Gaddafi toppled without harm to UK troops – gave Cameron the confidence to offer support for prospective US strikes in Syria last summer. But he misjudged the readiness of his MPs to go along with that gamble. Their reluctance, combined with Labour’s visceral post-Blair suspicion of military impetuosity, snuffed out Cameron’s interventionist spirit. Normal insular service was resumed.

The Prime Minister’s humiliation would have been greater had a Tory spin operation, led by George Osborne, not changed the subject. Instead of Downing Street miscalculation, the Westminster conversation switched to a supposed crisis of national self-confidence, triggered by Ed Miliband infecting parliament with lefty pacifism.

There was a brief attempt to revive that partisan spirit in the context of Russia’s Ukrainian incursion. Tory MPs, including ministers close to Cameron and Osborne, suggested that Putin had somehow been emboldened by Labour’s new tendency to appeasement. That sniping was silenced when word came down from the Foreign Office that mining the current crisis for old mud to fling at the opposition was not serving the cause of government dignity or prime ministerial authority.

The impulse to play domestic politics in an international emergency was revealing. The Conservative side of the coalition has artfully reduced political debate in this parliament to the most parochial terms possible. A financial crisis born of global economic imbalances and systemic market failure has been truncated into a parable of wanton Labour spending. The challenge of running public services on tight budgets is expressed as a test of will to withdraw undeserved cash from idle layabouts.

Cringing fear of Ukip has prohibited any serious effort to defend a single European market, including free movement of workers, as a driver of future prosperity. What vestige there is of liberal migration policy in government is secretly supported by the Treasury and publicly blamed on the Liberal Democrats. Anything amiss in the country is ascribed to failure from Labour’s time in office.

This approach to politics as glorified parlour game yields petty victories that don’t add up to successful government. It gives no clarity about Cameron’s motive for being in Downing Street, aside from the recreational pleasure of winning and holding power. Since the Prime Minister struggles to express guiding principles in a domestic agenda that consumes most of his time, it seems unlikely he will articulate a coherent sense of strategic purpose in foreign affairs, to which he pays only occasional attention. He may talk about global challenges but his record is of ducking difficult issues and keeping politics parochial. 

Rafael Behr is political columnist at the Guardian and former political editor of the New Statesman

This article first appeared in the 05 March 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's power game

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Leader: Trump and an age of disorder

Mr Trump’s disregard for domestic and international norms represents an unprecedented challenge to established institutions.

The US presidency has not always been held by men of distinction and honour, but Donald Trump is by some distance its least qualified occupant. The leader of the world’s sole superpower has no record of political or military service and is ignorant of foreign affairs. Throughout his campaign, he repeatedly showed himself to be a racist, a misogynist, a braggart and a narcissist.

The naive hope that Mr Trump’s victory would herald a great moderation was dispelled by his conduct during the transition. He compared his country’s intelligence services to those of Nazi Germany and repeatedly denied Russian interference in the election. He derided Nato as “obsolete” and predicted the demise of the European Union. He reaffirmed his commitment to dismantling Obamacare and to overturning Roe v Wade. He doled out jobs to white nationalists, protectionists and family members. He denounced US citizens for demonstrating against him. Asked whether he regretted any part of his vulgar campaign, he replied: “No, I won.”

Of all his predilections, Mr Trump’s affection for Vladimir Putin is perhaps the most troubling. When the 2012 Republican presidential nominee, Mitt Romney, warned that Russia was the “number one geopolitical foe” of the US, he was mocked by Barack Obama. Yet his remark proved prescient. Rather than regarding Mr Putin as a foe, however, Mr Trump fetes him as a friend. The Russian president aims to use the US president’s goodwill to secure the removal of American sanctions, recognition of Russia’s annexation of Crimea and respect for the murderous reign of the Syrian president, Bashar al-Assad. He has a worryingly high chance of success.

Whether or not Mr Trump has personal motives for his fealty (as a lurid security dossier alleges), he and Mr Putin share a political outlook. Both men desire a world in which “strongmen” are free to abuse their citizens’ human rights without fear of external rebuke. Mr Trump’s refusal to commit to Nato’s principle of collective defence provides Mr Putin with every incentive to pursue his expansionist desires. The historic achievement of peace and stability in eastern Europe is in danger.

As he seeks reconciliation with Russia, Mr Trump is simultaneously pursuing conflict with China. He broke with precedent by speaking on the telephone with the Taiwanese president, Tsai Ing-wen, and used Twitter to berate the Chinese government. Rex Tillerson, Mr Trump’s secretary of state nominee, has threatened an American blockade of the South China Sea islands.

Mr Trump’s disregard for domestic and international norms represents an unprecedented challenge to established institutions. The US constitution, with its separation of powers, was designed to restrain autocrats such as the new president. Yet, in addition to the White House, the Republicans also control Congress and two-thirds of governorships and state houses. Mr Trump’s first Supreme Court appointment will ensure a conservative judicial majority. The decline of established print titles and the growth of “fake news” weaken another source of accountability.

In these circumstances, there is a heightened responsibility on the US’s allies to challenge, rather than to indulge, Mr Trump. Angela Merkel’s warning that co-operation was conditional on his respect for liberal and democratic values was a model of the former. Michael Gove’s obsequious interview with Mr Trump was a dismal example of the latter.

Theresa May has rightly rebuked the president for his treatment of women and has toughened Britain’s stance against Russian revanchism. Yet, although the UK must maintain working relations with the US, she should not allow the prospect of a future trade deal to skew her attitude towards Mr Trump. Any agreement is years away and the president’s protectionist proclivities could yet thwart British hopes of a beneficial outcome.

The diplomatic and political conventions embodied by the “special relationship” have endured for more than seven decades. However, Mr Trump’s election may necessitate their demise. It was the belief that the UK must stand “shoulder to shoulder” with the US that led Tony Blair into the ruinous Iraq War. In this new age of disorder, Western leaders must avoid being willing accomplices to Mr Trump’s agenda. Intense scepticism, rather than sycophancy, should define their response.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era