The Atlantic is Getting Wider

And it's about time

The “special relationship” between the United Kingdom and the United States, a concept first coined by Winston Churchill in 1946, was meant to symbolise a deep cultural, political, and security bond. Churchill spoke of a “growing friendship and mutual understanding,” a partnership rooted in shared values and a commitment to global stability. Decades later, that so-called friendship looks increasingly one-sided — a cycle of dominance and occasional reconciliation, with Britain cast in the role of the loyal but disrespected partner.

The Reagan-Thatcher era is often romanticised as a golden age of US-UK cooperation. They were ideological allies, united against Communism, and their relationship extended beyond the realm of politics into genuine personal friendship. Yet even then, the imbalance was clear. Reagan’s unilateral invasion of the Commonwealth nation of Grenada without informing Thatcher was a blatant show of disregard. His later apology — “we regret very much the embarrassment that’s been caused to you” — encapsulates this abuse: the US acts without consultation, Britain protests, an apology is issued, and things return to normal. Thatcher, ever the pragmatist, endured this humiliation and remained steadfastly loyal, famously calling Reagan “the second most important man in my life.”

This pattern has repeated itself over the decades, resembling an unhealthy relationship in which one partner exerts control, dismisses concerns, and expects unwavering loyalty. From Reagan ignoring British interests in Grenada to Bush pulling the UK into Iraq, and Trump publicly humiliating Theresa May with support for Boris Johnson while still in office, each instance follows a familiar script: Britain objects, America soothes with an apology or diplomatic gesture, and the status quo resumes — until the next transgression. The UK’s support for the invasion of Iraq, despite widespread public opposition, showed its willingness to back the US even at great domestic and diplomatic cost. And what did Britain gain in return? A tarnished international reputation and a deepening sense of political disillusionment. Like many toxic relationships, it is often the abusee, not the abuser, who must decide when enough is enough.

With Trump back in the White House, the power imbalance in the special relationship is once again on full display. His erratic leadership and America-first isolationism leave little room for meaningful diplomacy. While it’s true that Britain is geographically closer to the crisis in Ukraine, Trump has shown concerningly little consideration for the impact of his actions upon those living with a real fear of Russian expansionism. It’s not a question of geopolitical strategy, it’s a question of discerning right and wrong (a well-documented struggle of his.) 

Meanwhile, Trump’s self-proclaimed special relationship with Vladimir Putin only makes matters worse. While Putin uses Russian airwaves to boast about how easily he could strike American soil, Trump continues to treat him as an estranged friend. Starmer is now faced with a dizzying choice for the future: America or Europe? As he recently put it, Britain must lead a “coalition of the willing” to counter Putin’s advances — an approach entirely at odds with Trump’s isolationist stance. Therefore, in this vein, the UK can no longer rely on the US to act as a stable, dependable ally. The days of Roosevelt and Churchill, Reagan and Thatcher, even Bush and Blair, are over. Britain must prepare to chart its own course.

The UK is not without leverage. While Trump loves to posture as a global strongman, the US still relies on British intelligence, military coordination, and strategic oversight, particularly in monitoring Russian submarine activity in the North Atlantic and the crucial GIUK Gap, the gateway to American shores. Despite Trump’s threats and bombast, he hasn’t yet claimed Greenland, and still needs the UK’s help.

Perhaps it’s time to flip the script. Let the special relationship become something America craves, not something it takes for granted. Britain should make it clear that its loyalty is not automatic, especially if the US continues to act as an unreliable or even adversarial partner.

Starmer should therefore direct his attention where it pays off, reinforcing ties closer to home. The UK’s relationship with France, long marred by Brexit-related tensions, is slowly but surely on the mend. The Economist notes that both nations now share a common political vision — “pragmatic moderates who hail from the centre-left.” Macron, who once appeared sceptical of Britain’s post-Brexit relevance, has described Starmer as “un décent guy.” Their renewed diplomatic efforts have already led to greater cooperation on Ukraine, and even some behind-the-scenes strategising on how to handle Trump. If both Britain and France are actively preparing for his unpredictability, that says everything.

So perhaps the real “special relationship” Britain should cultivate is not with an unstable America, but with like-minded European allies. The US-UK bond may never truly break, but it doesn’t have to define Britain’s global strategy. For now, Britain should focus on doing what is right, rather than on appeasing the unpredictable prat throwing his toys out of the pram across the Atlantic. If Trump wants to burn bridges, Britain shouldn’t be standing there with a bucket of water.

Illustration by Magdalena Yiacoumi