For veterans of Trump 1.0, there is a wearily familiar feel to current events. But this time they’re on fast-forward. In his early days in 2017, Trump paralysed air traffic around the world with an overnight decision to ban travellers to the US from seven majority-Muslim countries. This time he has more or less unravelled the 75-year-old Nato alliance. Nothing like thinking big.
As the storm rages, we should spare a thought for those humble seekers after truth – the media. Back in 2017 they would appear hours late for evening events, grey-faced and haggard, after reporting from Trump news conferences at which a dozen front-page stories had emerged. Over time, it became apparent that many were acquiring a fleshier appearance – a symptom, they admitted, of too many late nights at their desks, fuelled by terrible American junk food. It was dubbed the “Trump ten pounds”. In these inflationary times, has ten become 20?
Hold the line
There seems to be, however, one significant difference between this Trump term and the last – at least so far. His team looks disciplined and united. Even those, such as Marco Rubio, who must be struggling with the ambushing of the Ukrainian president or the parroting of Vladimir Putin’s speaking points are staying loyal. In 2017, within days of inauguration, Trump’s hastily assembled team were briefing relentlessly against one another. The Washington Post specialised in these stories, often claiming a dozen unattributable sources, and their journalists had a favourite joke. “We are getting so many leaks from the White House, we’ve set up a telephone answering system. If you want to brief against Steve Bannon, press one; if you want to brief against Jared Kushner, press two; if you want to brief against Mike Pence, press three.”
Out in the Middle East
A 24-hour trip to Bahrain divides the week: a chance to meet old friends and to take the temperature of a region that is both chronically volatile and, as part of an area which is home to half of the world’s oil reserves, of critical importance to the global economy.
Bahrain is fascinating: an economy founded on pearl diving, but now a growing regional fintech centre; a former British protectorate, now headquarters of the US Fifth Fleet and home to a Royal Navy base – and an understated showcase of British restraint in a region inclined to golden palaces. My calls on friends and contacts includes Alastair Long, the impressive British ambassador, and a coffee with the crown prince at the Formula One circuit where, as an avid F1 fan, he is presiding over the first team testing session of the new season. All seems, on the surface, quiet and calm.
The crown prince, one of the best leaders in the Arab world, exudes authority and common sense. But one of my contacts there observes that “Europe seems in a really dark place”, describes US disengagement from Europe as inevitable, and doubts that Europe has the willpower to step up on defence when this happens. There are frequent hints that, whatever European leaders think, Gulf leaders are content to see Donald Trump back in power: their enemy is a few dozen miles across the Gulf seaway, and they think that while Trump might surrender Ukraine to Putin, he will be reliably tough on Iran.
Make TV great again?
After landing from Bahrain and hitting the M25, I catch on the car radio the first recordings of the White House assault on Zelensky. I’m so astonished by what I’m hearing that, had the M25 not been its usual Friday-night parking lot, I might have driven into the car in front of me. But when I watch it back on TV later, it has an oddly artificial, even scripted, feel to it: the opening attack by a Maga-supporting journalist, the tag-teaming between JD Vance and Trump, the stagy outrage at some inoffensive push-back from Zelensky. Trump perhaps gave it away when he said, “This’ll make great television.” He and Vance know what their base wants.
Europe in unity
What a triumph for Keir Starmer on 2 March. There’s a long way to go, but he must have felt that his Ukraine summit delivered everything he could have wanted. It is a real breakthrough that Britain and France could now be holding the pen on proposals to end the war: I’ve been hearing that there has never really been an American plan. Irony of ironies, Brexit-supporting Trump has pushed Europe and the UK together faster and further than we Remainers could ever have dreamed.
Kim Darroch is a former diplomat who was British ambassador to the US from 2016 to 2019
[See also: Despite three years of war, Ukrainians do not despair]
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This article appears in the 05 Mar 2025 issue of the New Statesman, The Fall Out