Bagehot
A rough patch for the special relationship
Feb 1st 2007
From The Economist print edition
How should Britain deal with a president who appears to have lost all authority at home?
Steve OBrien
THERE'S nothing new about a little turbulence in the so-called special relationship between Britain and America. Churchill had to put up with Roosevelt's hostility to the British empire. Eisenhower's fury over Suez dealt a lasting blow to Britain's capacity for autonomous action. Johnson was greatly hurt by Wilson's refusal to send as much as a Guards band to Vietnam. Margaret Thatcher was incensed when her soulmate, Ronald Reagan, invaded Grenada, a Commonwealth country, without first telling her.
But few periods in this closest of strategic partnerships have been as strange and troubled as the present one.
The source of the problems is the fallout from the Iraq catastrophe. Thanks to it, there is partial regime change in both Britain and America. Without Iraq, Tony Blair would never have felt forced to put a time limit on his premiership—a decision that has undermined his authority and left him a stricken figure during his last months in Downing Street.
For Mr Blair, at least, the end is in sight. For George Bush, humiliated by the Democrats' triumph in the mid-term elections and deserted by leading Republicans, there is the prospect of nearly two years in a political twilight zone. This presents real problems for America's coalition partner and most loyal ally. Working with a brash, over-confident Mr Bush created one set of difficulties for Britain. Dealing with the most discredited president abroad since Richard Nixon (who even at his lowest ebb still had Henry Kissinger) creates an entirely new set.
Some of those difficulties have surfaced since the Iraq Study Group (ISG) reported late last year. The British hoped that a beleaguered Mr Bush would seize on its main conclusions. The emphasis on reviving the Middle East peace process while wooing potential regional allies such as Syria echoed Mr Blair's oft-stated view that “the road to Baghdad runs through Jerusalem”.
There was thus disappointment three weeks ago when Mr Bush swatted aside the ISG's work with a single dismissive sentence that there was no “magic formula” for success. There were doubts in London too about the wisdom of the military “surge” that Mr Bush announced. Though the British government expressed the public hope that the policy might do some good, its private view was that the surge was probably too little, certainly too late, but above all without support in Congress.
Another reason for the lack of enthusiasm was concern that the 7,000 British troops in Basra would be vulnerable if the surge produced a flight of Shia militias to the south of the country. The government is determined to press ahead with plans to cut the size of the force to 4,000 by the middle of the year.
Nowadays there is not much effort to hide these differences. The line ministers initially took—that Britain neither agreed nor disagreed with Mr Bush's new policy—reflected a growing feeling that because Mr Bush is so widely criticised at home he no longer merits exaggerated respect in Britain.
One admittedly self-promoting cabinet minister, Peter Hain, was sufficiently emboldened to talk about how awful it had been for the government trying to maintain a working relationship with what was “the most right-wing American administration, if not ever, then in living memory”.
In a rare debate on Iraq last week in the Commons, which Mr Blair shamefully refused to attend, William Hague, the pro-war Conservative shadow foreign secretary, spoke for nearly everyone in the house when he said it was “a lesson to us all for the future that embarking on military action alongside another power requires confidence...that our allies have a satisfactory plan”. Mr Hague went on to say that there were also lessons to be learned “about the management of our relationship with the United States” and that the case for a high-level Privy Council inquiry into the conduct of the war in Iraq was “overwhelming”. Anti-Bush sentiment in Britain is probably stronger among the war's supporters, who feel badly let down, than among its opponents, who bask in vindication.
Gordon Brown will be tempted to put as much distance as possible between himself and Mr Bush. He may even hold the inquiry called for by Mr Hague. Instinctively more tribal than Mr Blair and with many friends in the upper reaches of the Democratic Party, Mr Brown and the people around him will also find it hard to conceal their longing for a Democrat to win in 2008. As Mr Hain put it: “Our[[Labour's]] sister party is the Democratic Party [[the Republicans are the equivalent of our Conservatives]], so for me the results in November were fantastic.”
economist.com
A rough patch for the special relationship
Feb 1st 2007
From The Economist print edition
How should Britain deal with a president who appears to have lost all authority at home?
Steve OBrien
THERE'S nothing new about a little turbulence in the so-called special relationship between Britain and America. Churchill had to put up with Roosevelt's hostility to the British empire. Eisenhower's fury over Suez dealt a lasting blow to Britain's capacity for autonomous action. Johnson was greatly hurt by Wilson's refusal to send as much as a Guards band to Vietnam. Margaret Thatcher was incensed when her soulmate, Ronald Reagan, invaded Grenada, a Commonwealth country, without first telling her.
But few periods in this closest of strategic partnerships have been as strange and troubled as the present one.
The source of the problems is the fallout from the Iraq catastrophe. Thanks to it, there is partial regime change in both Britain and America. Without Iraq, Tony Blair would never have felt forced to put a time limit on his premiership—a decision that has undermined his authority and left him a stricken figure during his last months in Downing Street.
For Mr Blair, at least, the end is in sight. For George Bush, humiliated by the Democrats' triumph in the mid-term elections and deserted by leading Republicans, there is the prospect of nearly two years in a political twilight zone. This presents real problems for America's coalition partner and most loyal ally. Working with a brash, over-confident Mr Bush created one set of difficulties for Britain. Dealing with the most discredited president abroad since Richard Nixon (who even at his lowest ebb still had Henry Kissinger) creates an entirely new set.
Some of those difficulties have surfaced since the Iraq Study Group (ISG) reported late last year. The British hoped that a beleaguered Mr Bush would seize on its main conclusions. The emphasis on reviving the Middle East peace process while wooing potential regional allies such as Syria echoed Mr Blair's oft-stated view that “the road to Baghdad runs through Jerusalem”.
There was thus disappointment three weeks ago when Mr Bush swatted aside the ISG's work with a single dismissive sentence that there was no “magic formula” for success. There were doubts in London too about the wisdom of the military “surge” that Mr Bush announced. Though the British government expressed the public hope that the policy might do some good, its private view was that the surge was probably too little, certainly too late, but above all without support in Congress.
Another reason for the lack of enthusiasm was concern that the 7,000 British troops in Basra would be vulnerable if the surge produced a flight of Shia militias to the south of the country. The government is determined to press ahead with plans to cut the size of the force to 4,000 by the middle of the year.
Nowadays there is not much effort to hide these differences. The line ministers initially took—that Britain neither agreed nor disagreed with Mr Bush's new policy—reflected a growing feeling that because Mr Bush is so widely criticised at home he no longer merits exaggerated respect in Britain.
One admittedly self-promoting cabinet minister, Peter Hain, was sufficiently emboldened to talk about how awful it had been for the government trying to maintain a working relationship with what was “the most right-wing American administration, if not ever, then in living memory”.
In a rare debate on Iraq last week in the Commons, which Mr Blair shamefully refused to attend, William Hague, the pro-war Conservative shadow foreign secretary, spoke for nearly everyone in the house when he said it was “a lesson to us all for the future that embarking on military action alongside another power requires confidence...that our allies have a satisfactory plan”. Mr Hague went on to say that there were also lessons to be learned “about the management of our relationship with the United States” and that the case for a high-level Privy Council inquiry into the conduct of the war in Iraq was “overwhelming”. Anti-Bush sentiment in Britain is probably stronger among the war's supporters, who feel badly let down, than among its opponents, who bask in vindication.
Gordon Brown will be tempted to put as much distance as possible between himself and Mr Bush. He may even hold the inquiry called for by Mr Hague. Instinctively more tribal than Mr Blair and with many friends in the upper reaches of the Democratic Party, Mr Brown and the people around him will also find it hard to conceal their longing for a Democrat to win in 2008. As Mr Hain put it: “Our[[Labour's]] sister party is the Democratic Party [[the Republicans are the equivalent of our Conservatives]], so for me the results in November were fantastic.”
economist.com
