When Donald Trump was in Manhattan real estate he quickly grew to loathe lawyers. Or rather, a certain type of attorney.
There were those who were pedantic, niggly, always asking questions, cautious. And there were the other sort who would happily serve and help, and were not so mindful of the risks. Can’t do’s versus can do’s, in other words.
No prizes for guessing which camp he preferred and the one he could not abide. Nothing, either, for supposing where Keir Starmer falls. In Trump’s eyes, you have to suppose the careful, conservative, forever seeing-both-sides UK Prime Minister is a throwback to those who obstructed, not advanced, the building of his towers.
In that sense, the US President and Starmer were never going to get along. They are chalk and cheese, polar opposites, in character and temperament. Bringing personality into high-level diplomacy is often ill-advised. It’s not meant to play such a significant role, it’s what protocol and the well-oiled, government-to-government machinery is designed to overcome.
Yet, the readout of the dialogue between the two men suggest it is personal, that Starmer rubs up the US President the wrong way, that his natural hesitancy and leaning towards detail, serves to antagonise. It was entirely in keeping with Starmer’s methodology that he would defer to colleagues, obtain their soundings, before committing the UK to join the US in protecting the Strait of Hormuz.
Likewise, it was classic Trump to insist that he alone made the decisions, he did not require advisers to tell him the oil price would fall if the strait reopened.
Trump knew this, of course. He’s fully aware of how Starmer behaves and operates. In the past, it was often followed by Starmer acceding and seeking the President’s favour.
Not here. To Trump’s fury, there has been precious little sign of a climbdown. For once, from the very moment the two leaders first spoke about the strikes on Iran and Starmer failed to provide a ringing endorsement, the UK leader has held his ground.
Special relationship?
Trump’s card – the trump card – is that this is not what the “special relationship” was meant to be about and he’s got a bust of Sir Winston Churchill, architect of the phrase, behind his desk to prove it.
Starmer’s ace – because he has one, too – is that the UK public is on his side. Certainly, that is what he believes. At the beginning of the war, it was definitely the case. Now, the polls are narrowing, implying the electorate would like to see an early resolution, and for the threat to fuel and energy bills to recede. Another suggestion is that people are broadly in favour of the UK’s stance but such is Starmer’s unpopularity they cannot bring themselves to credit him with holding the line.
In any event, Starmer likes to cling to the notion of there being international law – now severely holed by the Israeli-UK policy – a subject he studied and practised before devoting himself to full-time politics. His love for legality has never left him, as his repeated references down the years have shown. The law is his default, ever-present, to reassure and reinforce.
How else to explain the breakdown and Trump’s constant targeting of Starmer for what can only be euphemistically termed “special treatment”? He awards Emmanuel Macron 8/10, despite France doing not much more than the UK. Friedrich Merz was able to sit alongside Trump and managed to escape a lambasting, even though Germany is explicit in offering no support. Pedro Sanchez has received a broadside for refusing to allow US forces to use its military bases in Spain – Trump also threatened to cut off trade in retaliation. There, as well, the heat appears to have diminished somewhat, with the Spanish Foreign Minister Jose Manuel Albares claiming relations with the US are “normal”.
Let it go
Not so, where Trump is concerned. Trump, as is his wont, is perfectly capable of reversing his position and saying everything US-UK is sweetness and light, as it always was and will be. There is no evidence of that occurring yet.
Instead, he returns time and again to the UK, obviously with a little goading from reporters, but he does not require reminding. It’s as if the quietly spoken, thoughtful Starmer has acquired a totemic hold over him. Trump just cannot let it go. Nor can Starmer, who resolutely refuses to budge.
Possibly, it is seeing Churchill in the Oval Office that acts as a nudge. Trump is no student of history, so he would not care that the wartime UK prime minister worked tirelessly to persuade the US to join against Germany and it was a full two years before they intervened. He wants Starmer to send in the Royal Navy now.
Partly, as well, it may be because he really does possess a close bond with the UK. His mother was Scottish, he has golf courses there, he was doubtless brought up hearing tales of the “home country” and he adores the pageantry. Starmer’s trip to Turnberry in Scotland, to meet Trump at his golf resort, is seared on the collective memory. It had all the pomp of an official visit, except this was the UK Prime Minister paying homage to the US President on his own turf, in Britain.
Game plan
For Starmer, the chasm has presented an opportunity. For a while, he has sought to move the UK nearer the European Union. It’s a move fraught with danger, as it will only reopen the Brexit wounds and be a gift to Nigel Farage and Reform UK. His has been a nervous, awkward, almost apologetic courtship. Iran has given him a chance to join with Macron and Merz, and push the UK back into the European fold, safe that on this occasion, he is unlikely to meet much domestic resistance. He knows, too, that UK voters are unlikely to take kindly to Trump’s muscle-flexing but would probably defend Starmer if he singled out the UK for some sort of “special measure”.
Standing up to Trump has emboldened Starmer. Whether that continues remains to be seen. But for now he is grateful for a rare opening.
