The British monarch’s trip showcases an alliance held together by shared complicity and decline
King Charles III has gone to Washington, ostensibly to help the transatlantic cousins celebrate getting rid of his predecessor George III 250 years ago. But being a royally gracious loser is, of course, only a pretext.
In reality, as The Economist, the premier British mouthpiece of transatlantic orthodoxy, has deplored, Charles’s mission is to salvage what’s left to be salvaged from the sinking “special relationship” between Washington and London.
That the relationship is in very bad shape is obvious from the compulsive manner in which Britain’s leader Keir Starmer keeps insisting that it still exists, while also emphasizing that he “will remain laser-focused on what is in the British national interest.”
Indeed, the abysmally unpopular Starmer has been subjected to so much typical Trump hazing that, as The Guardian notes, he may be enjoying “a vanishingly rare moment of public approval for his relatively robust response.”
Historically, the “special relationship” has certainly seen better days. It goes back a long way, even if the term itself was coined as late as 1946, when Winston Churchill needed a polite way of suggesting a political friendship with benefits: The British Empire was bankrupt and shrinking, and London was ready to submit to its former colonists in America in return for a new place as their permanent privileged sidekick in the beginning Cold War crusade against the Soviet Union.
Historically, the moderately sized island realm off Europe’s shores had laid the foundations for the continental behemoth across the Atlantic, even if – to be fair to the British – not deliberately but by strategic blunder. The bloody divorce between the rebellious colonists and the obstinate mother country – in many respects really a war between competing oligarchies, including plenty of slave holders and traders – has been imaginatively baked into the bedrock of US self-glorification as a war of independence and revolution.
It is true that, at first, the British were very cross indeed and returned in 1812 to burn the White House. When the Americans went to war with each other in the 1860s, Britain’s upper classes mostly rooted for the South, that is, for the break-up of the US. But even then, London was already cautious enough to maintain official neutrality.
Fast forward half a century and that turned out to have been a very wise decision. When the Germans fought for hegemony in the First World War and knocked out Russia – weakened by revolution – Berlin might well have won or, at least, achieved a stalemate peace against France and Britain, its key antagonists in the West. It was US intervention that, instead, ensured German defeat in 1918.
True, considering the consequences of that defeat and its shortsighted mismanagement by the victors, you don’t have to like the Kaiser’s Germany to wonder if Europe – and the world – would not have been better off if the Americans had stayed out, as eminent historian Dominic Lieven has long pointed out.
In any case, as things happened in the real world, there was a second German (and, this time, also Japanese) try for primacy, much worse than the first. Again, in the Second World War as well, over-extended Britain and the booming US were not only on the same side but formed a particularly close if unequal relationship.
The pattern continued during the subsequent Cold War and beyond, with American and British spies and soldiers often in cahoots to topple sovereign governments and replace them with authoritarian vassal regimes, including Iran in 1953, Chiletwenty years later, Iraq in 2003, and Syria only recently, to name only a few cases.
Churchill’s very own American dream, in short, came true: While shedding its empire, a much-diminished Britain – really a middling power with debilitating manufacturing-base weakness – kept punching above its economic and geopolitical weight, due in large measure to having found a new niche as America’s junior accomplice.
There have been partial exceptions and mishaps. Britain, for instance, refused to send troops to help the US in Vietnam. Hardly remembered now, in other ways London did, however, consistently support Washington’s brutal and futile war, if on the sly. The greatest single debacle was, of course, the Suez in 1956, shorthand for a British-French-Israeli imperialist Blitzkrieg on Egypt that went sour when the US – and the Soviet Union – put the Zionist-colonialist marauders in their place. Then as well, a British monarch, Charles’s mother Elisabeth II, ended up making a very delicate trip to Washington.
And Suez brings us to today. Because if that combination of Western-Israeli scheming, crude lying and vicious aggression, a strategic waterway (the Suez Canal), and successful resistance by a country systematically demonized in Western mainstream media (Gamal Abdel Nasser’s Egypt) looks familiar, then it’s because the Trumpist US regime has just produced an inadvertent re-enactment. This time, the heroic and effective resistance comes from Iran, the conniving war of aggression based on lies from Israel and its US auxiliaries, and the strategic waterway is, of course, the Strait of Hormuz.
There are many differences between the Suez in 1956 and the current war on Iran, too. What matters with regard to the American-British special relationship is that this time, it is the US that has gotten badly stuck in a failing war of aggression waged together with Israel. Britain has by no means “refused to take part,” as the New York Times has misinformed its readers. In reality, in letting the US use it as a launching pad for bombing Iran, London is the ever-trusty accomplice again, no better than Germany.
Yet the Starmer regime is trying to have it both ways by engaging in what are really shyster sophistries to mask its deep involvement, while rejecting Washington’s demands for even more collaboration. The upshot is that Starmer has tied himself into a pretzel to please Washington as much as he can without fearing for his own political skin, but that is not enough to satisfy America’s Donald Trump. “When we needed them, they weren’t there,” the president-in-dire-straits has growled.
There are other issues of discontent and sore spots between the “special relationship” partners: London is not amused at all that the Trump administration has cast doubt over its sovereignty over the Malvinas (AKA Falklands), an empire-remnant of some geopolitical significance that is much closer to Argentina (which also lays claim to them) than Britain. London’s plans for the Chagos Islands, home to British and American bases, have run into US opposition.
Britain used to have some special oomph being America’s poodle inside the EU, but Brexit put an end to that. At the same time, Washington does see London as part of Europe whenever Europe fails to satisfy Trump’s every whim, as over his urge for Greenland. In the US, it is precisely with the most MAGA Americans that Britain tends to have the worst image, caricatured as a hotbed of Islamism and anarchy, whereas in reality it’s an increasingly authoritarian hub of Zionist influence.
Opinion polls show that the disenchantment is more widespread: on both sides of the Atlantic, the cousins are growing to like each other less and less. Indeed, the British public has been largely unhappy about the king’s trip.
So, there’s much that is rotten in the “special relationship” between the former global empire and its current successor on its own trajectory of decline and decay. But that is not the only reason why things give off a fetid odor. The worst irony of them all is the fact that the US and Britain still do have important things in common, but they are even worse than what sets them apart. Both Washington and London have cultivated a pathologically close relationship with Israel, supporting the war-addicted apartheid state to the detriment of their own societies, countries, and national interest.
In the same vein, the elites of both London and Washington are, moreover, at the heart of the scandal around the pedophile criminal and conspirator – clearly on behalf of Israel – Jeffrey Epstein. King Charles and President Trump could exchange notes on how to spin the fall-out from the Epstein files, both for the royal family and for the American president himself. Indeed, one of the many recent bust-ups between the British government and Trump has been about Starmer’s criminally negligent – at the very best – appointment of yet another Epstein “customer,” the sinister powerbroker Peter Mandelson as ambassador to the US.
Think about it: with all the bad blood between London and Washington, they still converge on complicity with a genocide and the state perpetrating it, and they can commiserate with each other over being stuck up to their necks in the worst, most disgusting, most politically disruptive scandal of the century. The “special relationship” stinks of corruption, whether in agreement or disagreement.