Trump Turns on NATO as Britain Plays Both Sides in the Gulf

Trump Turns on NATO as Britain Plays Both Sides in the Gulf
Photo by Artin Bakhan on Unsplash

Editorial digest April 09, 2026
Last updated : 11:02

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The Atlantic alliance is cracking — and this time, Washington isn't pretending otherwise.

Donald Trump's overnight tirade against NATO, delivered in his signature all-caps fury, marks a new low in relations between the United States and its European partners. After a reportedly bruising meeting with Secretary General Mark Rutte, the president posted what amounts to a divorce note: "NATO WASN'T THERE WHEN WE NEEDED THEM, AND THEY WON'T BE THERE IF WE NEED THEM AGAIN." Rutte, to his credit, didn't sugarcoat it. Trump is "clearly disappointed," he told reporters. US media now report the White House is actively considering ways to "punish" allied nations that refused to join the Iran campaign.

This is no longer posturing. It is policy taking shape.

For Britain, the timing is excruciating. Keir Starmer is mid-tour in the Gulf, standing beside Mohammed bin Salman and calling Saudi Arabia a "steadfast ally" — a phrase that would have drawn howls from his own backbenches three years ago. The visit is partly about energy security, partly about post-ceasefire positioning, and entirely about the fact that Britain needs friends who actually sit near the strait of Hormuz.

Cooper draws the lines

Back in London, Foreign Secretary Yvette Cooper spent Thursday morning doing something her American counterparts seem to have abandoned: multi-directional diplomacy. On Sky News, she was unequivocal that Iran cannot "hijack" the strait of Hormuz with shipping tolls, invoking international maritime law to reject Tehran's latest provocation. The strait carries roughly a fifth of the world's oil. Any attempt to monetise passage would amount to economic warfare — and Cooper made clear Britain considers this a red line.

But she was equally blunt about Israel. "I'm deeply troubled about the escalating attacks that we saw from Israel in Lebanon yesterday," she said, citing the humanitarian consequences and mass displacement. This is Cooper trying to hold a position that Washington has vacated: criticising both Iran and Israel simultaneously, insisting that a ceasefire means something more than a press release.

She also danced carefully around reports of a Russian warship escorting sanctioned vessels through the English Channel. Cooper wouldn't confirm specifics but pointedly noted that the UK has now authorised the Royal Navy to board Russian shadow fleet ships in British waters. The shadow fleet — ageing tankers carrying Russian crude to fund the war in Ukraine — has been sailing past Britain's coast with near-impunity for months. That era appears to be ending, though whether a single boarding order amounts to deterrence remains an open question.

The alliance nobody wants to talk about

While Trump berates NATO from without, Hungary is corroding it from within. A leaked call between Hungarian Foreign Minister Péter Szijjártó and his Russian counterpart revealed what many suspected: Budapest offered to share confidential EU documents relating to Ukraine's accession bid. France's Jean-Noël Barrot called it a "betrayal of solidarity" — diplomatic language that, in practice, means Paris considers Hungary to be acting as a Russian proxy inside European institutions.

Viktor Orbán's response was characteristically defiant. At a rally, he insisted Hungary remains part of the West, claiming it was not Russia but US Vice President JD Vance who visited Budapest this week to endorse him. The implication — that Hungary's alignment with Washington's new isolationism is perfectly legitimate — captures the impossible geometry of the current moment. When the American president and the Hungarian prime minister both consider NATO an inconvenience, the alliance's foundations are not just shaking. They are being deliberately undermined from two directions at once.

For Britain, which has staked its post-Brexit foreign policy on being NATO's most reliable European pillar, this is existential. If the alliance fragments, London's entire security architecture needs rethinking — and fast.

Four more deaths in the Channel

Away from the summits and the shouting, the human cost of political failure washed up again on Thursday. Four people — two men and two women — drowned when a small boat sank in the Channel between France and Britain. French authorities in Calais described the vessel as a "taxi-boat," the grim shorthand for the overcrowded dinghies that smuggling networks launch from northern French beaches.

The deaths barely register as news any more, which is itself the scandal. Each crossing season brings the same cycle: tragedy, outrage, promises of crackdowns, then silence until the next sinking. Britain's Rwanda scheme is dead. France's policing of the beaches is demonstrably inadequate. And the people who board these boats have already calculated that drowning is an acceptable risk compared to staying where they are.

No summit communiqué will address that calculus. No diplomatic tour will reach the families now identifying bodies in Calais.

The war's long shadow

The ripple effects of the Iran conflict continue to reach far beyond the Gulf. In India, the energy crisis triggered by disrupted oil flows is now forcing migrant workers to abandon cities entirely. In Delhi, families who moved to the capital for work — earning roughly £4 a day as ragpickers — can no longer afford food as gas prices spiral. They are packing bags and heading home to rural Uttar Pradesh, their urban dreams collapsed under the weight of a war fought thousands of miles away.

This is what geopolitical disruption looks like at street level. Not sanctions spreadsheets or barrel-price charts, but a family of seven dragging a trolley bag through Anand Vihar station because they cannot eat.

What to watch

Thursday's developments leave Britain in a familiar but increasingly uncomfortable position: too small to shape events alone, too exposed to ignore them. Starmer's Gulf tour will produce warm communiqués and energy memoranda. Cooper's red lines on Hormuz and Lebanon will test whether words still carry weight without American backing.

The deeper question is structural. If NATO is fragmenting, if Hungary is leaking EU secrets to Moscow, if the Channel remains a graveyard — then Britain's post-Brexit bet on bilateral relationships and military credibility needs to deliver results, not just rhetoric.

The ceasefire in Lebanon holds, for now. The alliance holds, for now. Neither looks built to last the week.