Trump’s Greenland tantrum could be Starmer’s defining moment
This threat from abroad has the potential to refocus attention on national interest and remind us who we are.
Few things are better at bringing together a country than a shared external threat.
For all the ways Donald Trump finds to lob grenades into the global order, his despotic belligerence over Greenland may yet provide Keir Starmer with something he has so far struggled to create: a unifying moment.
Starmer entered office promising seriousness and stability. What he has not yet convincingly delivered is a sense of direction or strength. His government has been careful, technocratic, and completely rudderless. Despite a litany of worthy foes, it has been hesitant to name enemies, reluctant to draw sharp lines, and wary of asking the public to accept difficult trade-offs. In a fractured political landscape, that has left plenty of space for others with more sinister motives to tell people where to put their anger.
But Trump’s latest tantrum could change that. The US president’s threats to forcibly acquire Greenland and his eye-watering disregard for Nato allies are an important reminder that the rules-based order Britain depends on is not something we can take for granted. Loud, performative nationalism is once again being sold as the only language these strongmen respect.
This is a moment for our Prime Minister to seize. History shows centre-left governments often find their authority not in moments of calm, but in moments of pressure. External crises force internal clarity. The postwar Attlee government built the welfare state from the ruins of conflict, and Harold Wilson confronted Britain’s economic limits after the 1967 sterling crisis. Shock can create the conditions for unity – and honesty.
A credible threat from abroad has a way of cutting through domestic noise, refocusing attention on national interest, and reminding the country what the nation is and what it needs to fight for.
Trump’s rhetoric allows Starmer to articulate what British strength actually means in the 2020s, and to do so in direct contrast to the hollow bravado of the populist right. Trump’s Greenland posturing and his sudden change of heart on Chagos underline an uncomfortable truth: Britain’s security is intrinsically linked to that of its neighbours. Nato matters, and Europe too. I have found it interesting how even the most passionate Brexiteers have been shifting uncomfortably in their seats over the past few days, watching as the special relationship begins to crack.
If ever there were a moment to reopen a grown-up conversation about closer EU alignment, with a muted opposition, this is it. Defence procurement, intelligence-sharing, supply chains, and energy security are no longer just abstract policy debates but questions of resilience. Trump’s America First doctrine (i.e. whatever he deems to belong to America at that specific moment in time) makes that clearer by the day.
The same logic applies at home. National strength is not just about flags, but about capacity. A state that cannot invest in its infrastructure or public services is brittle and weak. Trump’s intervention should embolden Starmer to do something he has so far tiptoed around: make the political case for vast tax rises.
This doesn’t have to be punishment or ideology, but patriotism. If Britain is to be secure in a volatile world, it must pay for it. And of course, that argument is far easier to make when the alternative is laid bare: a future where foreign policy is dictated by the whims of men like Trump, Putin or Xi.
Which brings us to Nigel Farage. Reform UK’s problem is that Trump has made explicit what was previously deniable. Farage is not merely a disruptive outsider or a man of the people; he is politically and ideologically tied to a US president who openly disparages Britain, undermines its allies, and treats sovereignty as a punchline. Trump’s attack on the Chagos deal handed Farage a talking point, but it also exposed his dependency. Reform’s version of “strength” relies on deference to an American strongman who sees Britain as expendable. That is a wonderful gift to Labour, if it chooses to use it.
Moments like this do not come often. Trump’s Greenland gambit is reckless and destabilising, but it strips away ambiguity. For a prime minister still in search of a governing narrative and a way to unify a fractured nation, this may be the shock that finally imposes clarity.■
About the author: Zoë Grünewald is Westminster Editor at The Lead and a freelance political journalist and broadcaster. Zoë then worked as a policy and politics reporter at the New Statesman, before joining the Independent as a political correspondent. When not writing about politics and policy, she is a regular commentator on TV and radio and a panellist on the Oh God What Now podcast.
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I have yet to see the stiffening of resolve from Starmer.
It’s almost as if he wants to hedge any response he makes to the latest egregious outburst from Trump, holding onto a shred of ‘the special relationship’ which has been jettisoned by the Trump,administration a while ago.
He needs to move on and prepare the country appropriately for far more turbulent times, and commence rearming us in lock-step with the EU.
History often identifies externalities especially from aggression, as the most potent unifying force. Continuing to turn a blind eye and deaf ear to the mounting threats and stupidity can only "end in tears" as my reasonably wise and always forthright gran used to say!