Britain’s relationship with America endures, against the odds

“We are like two notes in one chord,” declared Donald Trump. “Or two verses of the same poem.” A president known for his demotic speech was in an uncharacteristically lyrical mood. He was addressing a banquet, hosted by King Charles III at Windsor Castle, to mark his state visit to Britain on September 17th. The relationship between Britain and America was eternal, irreplaceable and unbreakable, he said. “Seen from American eyes,” the president added, “the word ‘special’ does not begin to do it justice.” A week earlier Peter Mandelson, Britain’s ambassador to Washington, DC, had been fired over his toe-curling links to Jeffrey Epstein, a notorious sex-offender. Even that could not spoil the party.

In that lies a noteworthy achievement by a government short of things to brag about. Preventing a full rupture with Britain’s most important ally has been an almost-existential task of the Labour government. The special relationship has proved more resilient than many predicted this time last year, says Max Bergmann of the Centre for Strategic and International Studies in Washington.

Mr Trump’s scepticism of Nato, his ambivalence over the defence of Ukraine and his programme of punitive tariffs unsettled many of America’s allies. But the challenge was particularly acute for Britain. Its intelligence services and nuclear deterrent are uniquely entwined with America’s. The country is, after the EU, Britain’s second-largest trading partner. Yet Britain’s influence in Washington had been waning for years due to its shrinking armed forces, sluggish economy and diminished clout in Europe.

The political climate looked menacing for Sir Keir upon his election in 2024. It still does. In Mr Trump’s MAGA movement a dystopian idea of Britain has taken hold, warning that the birthplace of America’s founding ideals has been overrun by authoritarian Islamist-sympathisers—a sort of Tehran-on-Thames. Sir Sadiq Khan, the mayor of London, has become Mr Trump’s punchbag. “England is on the brink of civil war,” declared Steve Bannon, a Maga ideologue, at a nationalist-conservative gathering in Washington this month.

At home, Sir Keir has been caught in a pincer. For as much as Britons love America, Mr Trump is loathed, particularly within the Labour movement: just 16% of Britons have a favourable view of him, and a plurality thought the visit should be cancelled. Sir Ed Davey, leader of the Liberal Democrats, boycotted Wednesday’s dinner. Some Britain-watchers in Washington feared that Sir Keir would be compelled to make a stand, reminiscent of the fictional British leader in “Love Actually”, a film.

But Trumpish ideas are gaining salience in Britain, as The Economist’s analysis of survey data shows (see chart). Using a basket of questions on issues like immigration, overseas aid and climate change, the share of Brits who hold “MAGA views” fell from 40% in 2014 to just over a quarter in 2020. Since then, Trumpian views have rebounded, rising to 36% in 2025.

On September 13th as many as 150,000 protesters marched in London on a rally organised by the far right. On Whitehall they were addressed via video call by Elon Musk, a billionaire and former Trump ally, some wearing MAGA hats or holding images of Charlie Kirk, the recently murdered Trump outrider. Nigel Farage, Reform UK’s leader, has long traded on his friendship with Mr Trump, presenting himself as the president’s interlocutor with Britain.

The British press had warned that Mr Trump might punish Britain for the sin of electing a left-wing government. That, at least, has been averted. Like the rest of the world, Britain was hit by the president’s “Liberation Day” tariffs in April. But with a baseline rate of 10% Britain did better than most, and it was the first to strike an agreement to partially mitigate their effects. Still, the mercurial nature of the Trump administration was laid bare on the eve of the visit: the promised elimination of tariffs on British steel had been put on ice, the Starmer government admitted.

Mr Trump’s return to power had also led many to worry that Britain would have to choose between Europe and America. Yet Sir Keir has managed to have it both ways, striking an agreement to deepen trade ties with the EU by aligning with its food and environmental regulations, without arousing American objections.

Britain’s most important objective has been to retain American support for Nato in Europe, and to stop Mr Trump from abandoning Ukraine. At dinner, the king made a rare public overture, declaring Britain and America united in Ukraine’s struggle. The promise of Sir Keir, with France, to take on peacekeeping duties in Ukraine in the event of a peace deal has been enough to keep the prospect of American security guarantees alive, at least in principle. Similarly, a commitment to increase defence spending across Europe has been enough to deter Mr Trump from abandoning Nato. “Rather than bending the knee, he is buying time, and that’s what all America’s allies are trying to do,” says Sir Robin Niblett of Chatham House, a think-tank.

As with most successful courting Britain’s strategy has relied, in part, on egregious flattery. In Windsor, Mr Trump was treated like a fairytale prince on his wedding day, conveyed in a gilded carriage to inspect a parade of red-tunicked guardsmen. (“Extra large,” noted the Ministry of Defence, Trumpishly, about the fanfare.) “It’s like, ‘hey kids, we’ve made it’,” says one former British official of the former property developer.

This wooing has also included paying lip service to Mr Trump’s worldview. In a speech shortly before his firing, Lord Mandelson cast the state visit as part of a civilisational struggle to prevent Chinese tech dominance. Yet the deals on nuclear power and artificial intelligence announced during Mr Trump’s visit, while meaningful, are hardly epochal. And under Sir Keir, Britain has thawed relations with China.

In any other White House such contradictions might be brought to the president. But Mr Trump’s personal relationships are unusually important in driving policy, says Mr Bergmann. “This is an administration that revolves around the president. There is not a coherent policy process.”

A final bit of luck for Sir Keir is that the transatlantic radical right has proved less co-ordinated than some had expected. Mr Trump fell out with Mr Musk; Mr Musk fell out with Mr Farage, whose influence in Washington has been weaker than his supporters hoped. “The relationship hasn’t been Faraged,” notes Sir Robin.

The price of preserving the relationship has been that its terms have changed, perhaps permanently. Whereas Britain once thought of itself as the smaller power in a partnership of champions for the West, this week’s pageantry has shown just how dependent it has become on America, and its president. Mr Trump could at some point abandon Ukraine, potentially presenting a crisis for Britain and its European allies. American tech companies are taking an increasingly sceptical view of Britain’s internet-censorship laws (a bugbear of the vice-president, J.D. Vance).

The most immediate risk may lie with Sir Keir himself. Mr Trump took a shine to him after his thumping general-election victory, claim Labour figures. But the prime minister’s polling is dire; within Labour talk grows of booting him out. The president may yet conclude he does not want to do business with a loser. ■