16 January 2025

What’s the point of Britain’s foreign policy?

By

Amidst discussions about Treasury bonds, corruption scandals and grooming gangs, it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that Britain isn’t just in poor shape domestically – it’s also embarrassing itself on the world stage.

Keir Starmer’s planned Chagos Islands handover was put on ice this week, with incoming US President Donald Trump set to be given an opportunity to veto the plans. After weeks spent trying to expedite the process, by offering increasingly elaborate cash handouts, it seems that Starmer may be stumped by Trump. For all of his ‘America First’ rhetoric, it’s hard to imagine President Trump consenting to a deal which would leave a key US military base at the mercy of a Chinese ally.

Much ink has already been spilled about the strategic folly of surrendering the Chagos Islands. The archipelago is within touching distance of the Gulf of Aden, the Persian Gulf and the Straits of Malacca – all three of which are crucial for the flow of goods between Europe and Asia. For a country like Britain, which is unusually reliant on overseas trade, the security of these theatres is vitally important.

And remarkably, we’re paying for the privilege. A £9 billion upfront bill would be followed by ongoing financial support for Mauritius, a tiny island nation which maintains close trade ties to China.

It is important to criticise the substance of this proposal – but it is perhaps more interesting to consider what it tells us about Starmer’s approach to foreign policy, and Britain’s place in the world.

Like everything else that he does, Starmer’s Chagos surrender is motivated by a sincere belief in the value of rules and processes. For the former human rights lawyer, the world really is governed by a coherent corpus of international law. Without these rules, the globe would surely descend into chaos, and so their maintenance is of the utmost importance. In the context of the Chagos Islands, that means abiding by the UN’s 2021 ruling about the ultimate sovereignty of the archipelago.

To the extent that it ever made sense, Starmer’s position on international affairs was only tenable in the years immediately following the end of the Cold War. In the halcyon days of the late 1990s, it really did seem as if the arc of history might be bending inexorably towards global liberalism. Even the Iron Lady wasn’t immune from this particular folly – in a 1996 speech, she predicted that China would soon become ‘open, stable and prosperous, and a full partner in the international community’. 

But as the 21st century progresses, it is becoming increasingly clear that this temporary period of tranquility is unlikely to sustain itself. The raw realities of international relations are being laid bare again – interactions between states are about the exercise of power, not adherence to the rules. 

Rather than using this as an opportunity to reflect on whether or not those rules ever really mattered in the first place, Starmer’s answer is to double down. If the international rules-based order is collapsing, then Britain must become louder and prouder about its advocacy of that system. Unfortunately, there is little value in being the only player left abiding by the rules. A reputation for integrity and respectability can quickly morph into a reputation for gullibility and credulity.

With calls for reparations and decolonisation set to grow louder over the coming decades, this is a particularly salient point. Developing nations are now being empowered and encouraged by insurgent powers such as China and India to extract concessions from Western nations, with particular reference to historic wrongs. Given Britain’s extensive history of empire, we will be a particular target. Accepting these demands will tell the world that we are open to be exploited, and invite further pressure. A reputation for strength is, therefore, an absolute necessity.

That said, opponents of the deal shouldn’t cheer too loudly either. Trump’s intervention reveals an even more depressing truth – Britain’s sovereignty over the Chagos Islands is nominal at best. If Washington can veto the Prime Minister’s efforts to surrender sovereign British territory, does Britain really exercise sovereignty over that territory in the first place? If such a territory only serves to host American fighter jets, then why don’t we sell the islands to the United States? 

From start to finish, this circus reveals one thing – our political establishment doesn’t know why Britain has a foreign policy in the first place. Current thinking, on both left and right, is dominated entirely by inertia. On the one hand, the dewy-eyed internationalism of the late 1990s; on the other, a zombified neoconservatism. 

The answer lies in a rediscovery of authentically self-interested foreign policy, and a recognition that the realists were right all along. We must stop relying on the international systems which are now being used against us. We must also recognise the risks of becoming too reliant on any one partner – whether America or Europe. As a sizeable middle power, Britain’s strength lies in its ability to form productive relationships with a wide range of partners.

But most importantly, we must go back to basics on foreign policy – why do we bother with this? What is it for? Is it about upholding an arcane set of rules designed in the middle of the last century – or is it about making our people richer, safer and happier?

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Sam Bidwell is the Director of the Next Generation Centre.

Columns are the author's own opinion and do not necessarily reflect the views of CapX.