In November 1940, Winston Churchill sent a telegram to Franklin Roosevelt expressing relief both at the US president’s re-election and the victory of his anti-appeasement policy. “Things are afoot which will be remembered as long as the English language is spoken in any quarter of the globe, and in expressing the comfort I feel that the people of the United States have once again cast these great burdens upon you, I must now avow my sure faith that the lights by which we steer will bring us safely to anchor,” he wrote.
As Keir Starmer and Emmanuel Macron prepare to meet a very different US president, things are once again afoot that will live long in the memory – but this time the lights seem to be going out on a ship adrift in a sea of chaos.
In his Arsenal of Democracy speech, Roosevelt spurned those who asked to “throw the US weight on the scale in favour of a dictated peace”. He also saw past Nazi Germany’s “parade of pious purpose” to observe “in the background the concentration camps and ‘servants of God’ in chains”.
Donald Trump, by contrast, glories in the prospect of a US-dictated peace and in Russia he sees no gulags.
Starmer’s nightmare is that the transatlantic alliance forged in the second world war is crumbling before his eyes. The inconceivable has become not just possible, but probable, or as Macron put it on Wednesday: “Do not think that the unthinkable cannot happen, including the worst.”
If the central tenets of the postwar order are disintegrating, one of the casualties is likely to be Britain’s self-appointed role as the US’s bridge to Europe. There is a macabre circularity that France and the UK feel it necessary to plead with Trump to recall the US’s history as the generous country that kept the flame of freedom alive in Europe.
Margaret MacMillan, a professor of international history at Oxford, fears Trump will not listen to their case. “Never underestimate the importance of individuals in history, especially if they wield a great deal of power, and Donald Trump has got his hands on the levers of the most powerful country in the world. He is not controllable by anyone … He does not have a clear set of policies, but a set of likes and dislikes. Decisions are based on emotion and whim and last moment ideas,” she said.
“Even great powers need allies – and yet he is turning on his allies.”
Europe was braced psychologically for Trump to refuse further military aid to Ukraine on the basis the US had dispensed enough, and the killing had become a senseless stalemate. But it was never foreseen that in turning off the tap he would parrot Russian propaganda, baselessly accusing Ukraine’s leadership of starting the war, and falsely describing Volodymr Zelenskyy as a “dictator”.
Such language risks in effect Trump’s America swapping sides in the war. How does Europe react?
The necessary first response, out of self-respect, was to reject the US president’s framing of the war, as did the German chancellor, Olaf Scholz, when he described Trump’s words as “an unprecedented distortion of reality and extremely dangerous”.
The second step has been to appeal to those with sense in the US that their leader is taking them down a disastrous path. But Trump long ago cleansed the current Republican party of politicians that challenged his rule. Republicans have discovered challenging Trump was not a profitable career path.
Trump’s chief consideration in assembling his foreign policy team has been loyalty, not talent. It leaves foreign diplomats with few pressure points to exploit.
H R McMaster, Trump’s national security adviser during his first term, insisted there were still ways to talk Trump around. “He is reflexively contrarian – if you go to him and say everybody agrees on this Mr President, he will do the opposite just to spite you. The technique I would use is to say: ‘This is what Vladimir Putin wants you to say, and this is why he wants you to say it.’ I would show to him what is happening in Russian markets and say: ‘You have just given this psychological gift to the Russians who are celebrating.’
“The Europeans need to come out with a clear message: ‘Whatever you do, do not give Putin what he wants upfront.’ What does he want upfront? Sanctions relief. Keep him backed into the damned corner.”
Kim Darroch, the former UK ambassador to Washington, suggested Macron and Starmer force Trump to focus on the details, such as how he intends to apply pressure on Putin – something that is absent from his current discourse.
Alexander Stubb, the Finnish president, suggested Trump simply did not understand what might be at stake for the US. He said: “We have to convince the US that Ukraine’s future is a decisive question not only for Ukraine, but also for European security, the international system and the US’s status as a great power. Our duty is to make clear what the consequences would be if Putin gets what he wants.”
Macron and Starmer know Europe’s hand badly needs strengthening, especially since it became clear that Europe was not only going to be sidelined in talks between Russia and the US, but would still be expected to police any settlement – without any help from the Americans.
In Paris, first with the major European leaders in person, and then by video with the smaller EU countries, Macron tried to adopt the role of convener in chief. In the words of the former French defence official Camille Grand, the aim was to show Europe “deserved to be at the table but not on the menu”.
It was a first attempt to show that if indeed the US expects Europe to provide a peacekeeping/reassurance force inside Ukraine, it could respond so long as preconditions were met – including US logistical support.
But with little time to prepare, the Paris meeting did not go well. Scholz, facing federal elections this weekend, left early describing discussion of troops as premature, and insisting nothing could be done without US support. Giorgia Meloni arrived late, and was suspicious that the US was being undermined. Smaller nations were nervous of an electoral backlash.
Only Starmer, after four hours of talks with British defence officials, went public with a firm if imprecise offer of troops – contingent on a US “backstop” since without its air, logistics and communications support, the operation would not be safe. It was a bold move by the normally cautious Starmer, but he was nervous of the corrosive impact Trump’s remarks would have on Ukrainian troop morale. Macron characterised it as a “dissuasion” force, saying “if there is no such dissuasion, Russia will not keep its word”.
Western officials added that the purpose of the US backstop would be to make sure a European landforce would not be challenged by Russia – which would require air support and efforts to make the Black Sea safe international waters.
The landforce would not need to be as high as 30,000, since the US backstop – probably US aircraft based in Romania and Lask airbase in Poland – would be ready to respond if the ceasefire was about to be breached.
The European landforce would provide confidence to Ukrainians, undertaking protection tasks, and in the process encouraging Ukrainians abroad to return to their homeland.
So the kernel of the talks in Washington will be persuasive and probing. Trump will be asked to drop his objection to a US backstop, and to lay out clearly how and on what terms he expects Putin permanently to end the war.
But Trump’s vicious dismissal of the “minor comic” Zelenskyy and the US refusal to describe Russia as the aggressor in planned UN and G7 statements do not bode well for a ceasefire – let alone a peace treaty.
Such comments show how Trump’s apparent personal grudge against Zelenskyy has become hard policy, and reflect his framing of the conflict in which Ukraine is not the victim, but the aggressor – and so does not deserve a seat at the negotiating table.
As Richard Haass, the director of the Council on Foreign Relations, said from the US perspective: “The phase in which Vladimir Putin is treated as a pariah is over.”
Opposition to Russian aggression has been the centrepiece of UK foreign policy since Ernest Bevin was the foreign secretary. As recently as 2023, the Strategic Defence Review described Russia as the most acute threat to the UK’s security. And last September, the directors of MI6 and the CIA issued a rare joint statement warning that Russian intelligence was waging a campaign of sabotage across Europe and “[using] technology to spread lies and disinformation to drive wedges between us”.
Jonathan Powell, Starmer’s national security adviser, warned in 2010 that the UK would be in danger of sliding into irrelevance “if we have neither the strong transatlantic relationship or a strong role in Europe”.
Powell urged the UK to stay close to US presidents, even when things get tough because they will remember it and reward the UK by letting its officials give counsel to the world’s only superpower. The necessary price for such influence was discretion and domestic accusations of being the US’s poodle.
Fifteen years later that strategy is under intolerable strain.
Brexit has happened and if Trump continues on its current path towards Russia, the UK faces the unenviable choice of distancing itself from its most important postwar partner – or renouncing all that it has ever believed about Russia.
