Donald Trump’s military operation to seize the president of Venezuela, with a view to trying him in the United States for drug-related and other crimes, presents European leaders – and Sir Keir Starmer more than most – with a dilemma.
On the one hand, the removal of President Nicolas Maduro had its desirable aspects: he took power in an evidently rigged election, and his general mismanagement impoverished what should be a rich country by virtue of its oil wealth. On the other hand, the manner of his removal clearly violated pretty much every principle that Europeans profess to hold dear, starting with respect for national sovereignty.
There were, too, elements of shock and surprise. It was not just Venezuela that was kept in the dark. The operation appears to have been prepared and launched by the United States without any reference to its allies, leaving Europeans sidelined, uncertain and in a quandary about what to say. Initial statements were limited to the need to monitor the situation and ensure the safety of their own nationals in Venezuela.
But the quandary for the UK government, and for Sir Keir as prime minister, was greater than for most other European leaders. That was not only because of the “special relationship” that the UK insists it still enjoys with the United States, but because of the additional political and diplomatic investment successive UK governments have made in that relationship since the UK left the European Union.
It could, of course, be seen as exceptionally bad luck that the UK’s turn towards the United States should have coincided with the two terms of a president whose commitment to his European allies appears to rank far below his quest for a new age of US supremacy across the Americas. It hardly helped, either, that this president’s policy-making so often seems to smack of caprice. But the measure of national leaders is how they cope with unpredictability of all kinds, and Sir Keir’s initial response fell some way short.
First came silence, followed by a disclaimer – “what I can say is that the UK was not involved in any way in this operation” – and then a plea for more time “to establish all the facts”. A more confident prime minister – more confident, that is, both in the resilience of the “special relationship” and in his own judgement – might not have shrunk from a simple defence of the principle of national sovereignty, particularly given that the US had already boasted of capturing the president of Venezuela by force.
Perhaps the most eloquent expression of weakness, however, was Sir Keir’s admission that he was waiting – as, indeed, were we all – for Mr Trump’s announced news conference to find out what had happened. Even if that was true, and he had no hotline to his closest ally at such a moment, or that ally was simply not answering, it would have been wiser not to advertise the fact.
The response of the EU and individual European leaders was only marginally more convincing than that of the UK. They did, however, enjoy the advantage of not claiming any special relationship with the US, and of not having buttered up Donald Trump to the same extent. As it was, it was left to the far right in France and elsewhere to straddle the divide between hailing the downfall of Mr Maduro and attacking the US for breaching a basic tenet of international law. It seemed an embarrassingly long time before Germany and France – and the UK – arrived at what looked like coordinated statements, withholding judgement on the operation itself while expressing hopes for a better future for Venezuela. Indeed.
There is surely an argument to be made that a joint European response could have been quicker, stronger and more effective had the UK still been a member of the EU. And for all that UK ministers insist that the country has left the EU, but not Europe, it is hard not to conclude that Brexit has left the UK more exposed to the cold winds of US unilateralism than would otherwise have been the case.
This may also be the prism through which a strange little coda to the Venezuela events should be viewed: the joint UK-French strike on an Isis storage depot in Syria. Was the timing mere coincidence, or did the operation carry a message for our transatlantic friends – that, while two major European allies might harbour misgivings about the Venezuela operation, they could still be of use?
Not wanting to alienate the United States as an ally would seem to be just one element in the UK-US-EU triangle that Britain has grappled with since Brexit, and which it may now be looking to adjust in the coming year.
One clear and thoroughly welcome theme to emerge from the prime minister’s new year BBC interview was his desire for closer relations with the EU, including closer alignment with the EU single market, although not to the extent – perish the thought – of rejoining the customs union.
If the costs of Brexit are finally being absorbed, and Venezuela has helped to underline that a tilt towards the US is not the answer, that might not be a bad place for this government to begin 2026.
The four questions China is asking about Venezuela that will shape its next move
The people of Venezuela are exchanging one old tyrant for another
Trump’s Maduro gamble must be condemned – and turned to Venezuela’s advantage
How the capture of Nicolas Maduro will upend the global order
The nightmarish catch-22 at the heart of a burning injustice
The never-ending fiasco of HS2 is a case study in how not to build
