The Bridget Jones of world politics
Is Theresa May a principled hero – or, alone and clueless, is she no more than...
IT WAS a nice line. ‘Sometimes opposites attract,’ Theresa May told reporters as she jetted off to the White House for her meeting with Donald Trump, giving the UK-US special relationship a flirtatious twist. But most of the time opposites offer a few stilted platitudes about films or the weather, quickly knock back a bottle of cheap white, then go their separate ways.
As the Prime Minister arrived back in Downing Street last night, she could be forgiven for feeling less like the heir to Margaret Thatcher and more like international diplomacy’s very own Bridget Jones.
Ignore the grand surroundings of the Oval Office. No British premier has stood this isolated on the global stage since Winston Churchill pledged to oppose Adolf Hitler with nothing more than blood, toil, tears and sweat. To May’s credit, part of that isolation has been self-imposed. Before the trip, a narrative developed of her rushing to Washington with unseemly haste to coquettishly massage the gargantuan Trump ego, and elicit boundless riches in the shape of a new trade deal.
But her speech to an audience of Congressional Republicans saw her laying down some clear political markers. Nato. Putin. Protectionism. The war on terror. The Muslim ban. The Iran deal. In each of these key areas she drew a subtle distinction between her agenda and that of her impetuous host.
Indeed, short of mounting the stage in Philadelphia with a pink hat and Meryl Streep placard, it’s hard to see what more she could have done within the bounds of diplomatic propriety to signal her disapproval of major elements of Trump’s programme and philosophy.
But, of course, that still wasn’t enough for some people. ‘Words and signals matter,’ said Ed Miliband. ‘Our alliance with America should be based on our values, and the values we hold in common, not simply on the idea that we want to be at the front of some notional queue.’
And as ever, Labour’s former leader completely missed the point. Britain’s modern relationship with the United States has not been based on ‘shared values’. No diplo- matic relationships are based on such abstractions. They’re based on hard-headed mutuality of geo-political interest. And the reality is that following Brexit, those who hoped a vote to leave would represent an assertion of British independence have succeeded beyond their wildest dreams.
Over the past few months a new phrase has started to circulate within the corridors of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. ‘Abroad has just become a bigger place,’ the panjandrums tell each other. Which is typically understated FCO speak for the realisation that Britain’s old strategic partnerships are crumbling before their eyes.
The special relationship with the US was actually cemented by two things: the UK’s ability to act as a bridge between America and Europe, and our willingness to assist Washington in anchoring Nato at the heart of Western defence planning.
Trump couldn’t care less about either. His favoured European partner is Vladimir Putin. And his interest in the UK extends little further than a surreal ambition to play a round of golf at Balmoral in the presence
We’ve installed a novice at No10 at a time of crisis
of the Queen. In Europe, the only question is who can sever the ties fastest – us, or our former partners. When May’s speech advocating a hard Brexit was welcomed across the EU, some observers claimed it indicated new-found respect for her robust rhetoric. In truth, it represented relief. Europe wants shot of us – sooner, rather than later.
Spin a globe and place your finger upon it – the picture is the same. In China there is bemusement at the way May appears intent on re-erecting the Bamboo Curtain George Osborne and David Cameron worked so hard to pull down. In Israel there is concern the influence of a key ally has been lost from the heart of Europe, and bemusement at the way Britain managed the recent UN resolution on settlements. In India there is anger at what is seen as aggressive posturing on immigration and student visas – anger shared across the Commonwealth.
Partly May is a victim of circumstance. Brexit was not her choice, but her inheritance. She is struggling to manage a cascading populist backlash against globalisation. And not even Trump’s own staff have discovered a way to handle him.
But there is no avoiding the fact Britain has installed an international novice at No10 at precisely the moment the fabled ‘New World Order’ is imploding. Ken Clarke’s assessment that ‘she doesn’t know much about foreign affairs’ is privately shared by several of her Cabinet colleagues. Queries about what constitutes her foreign policy philosophy are met with a shrug.
NOR has she any heavyweight foreign affairs support to lean on. While she has recently appointed a dedicated economic policy adviser, she is yet to appoint her own foreign policy expert. Boris Johnson has impressed – and surprised – Foreign Office civil servants with his knowledge of his brief. But he is said to lack the day-to-day focus of Philip Hammond, and his habit of speaking in newspaper prose keeps creating diplomatic squalls. And in any case, he and May do not enjoy a close relationship.
Then, of course, there is Brexit. The time, effort and resources the Foreign Office establishment is expanding on this single issue leaves little room for conventional diplomacy. ‘We don’t really have a foreign policy as such,’ said one Minister. ‘What we’ve got now is a trade policy.’
May would beg to differ. In her Brexit speech she pledged: ‘We will take this opportunity to make Britain stronger, to make Britain fairer and to build a more global Britain.’
It was a bold vision, one that charted an entirely new course for her country. She returns from Washington knowing it’s a course she will have to navigate alone.