Defence

A stray thought of my own while watching Iranian drones tracing fiery paths over the Gulf, a stray quote from Ukraine and the background rumble of uncertainty about Britain’s Defence Investment Plan, have set my mind racing. My conclusion is at the same time obvious yet unnerving. As a European power, we have been watching the Ukraine war from almost the front row, but it has seemed a world away. Nightly on television we’ve seen Russian and Ukrainian attack drones streaking through the sky, half-reminiscent of a grisly firework display. From our armchairs we’ve read about how this conflict is turning into a competition between drone capabilities.

The speech by Pete Hegseth, the US Defense Secretary, to Singapore's Shangri-La Dialogue was addressed to a Pacific audience. His sharpest messages, however, were for Europe, and especially for a British Government that still hasn't explained in practice how it plans to deliver the political commitments made a year ago in the Strategic Defence Review (SDR). Healey claimed that talking too much and delivering too little has now changed. The Defence Investment Plan is where that claim gets tested ‘Push-up Pete’ - who ostentatiously styles himself the Secretary of War - is a controversial figure. European governments have found it convenient to dismiss him. That is a mistake. Hegseth came to Singapore to unveil the US National Defense Strategy.

When John Healey was asked, on stage at the London Defence Conference, whether the armed forces were ‘ready’ for war, the Defence Secretary replied: ‘Yes.’ One of those present says: ‘That was greeted with near incredulity in the room.’ Another attendee compared Healey’s plight to someone ‘playing French cricket’, with critics from all sides hurling balls at his ankles while he tried to bat them away. ‘You can’t score any runs in French cricket.’ George Robertson, Healey’s most respected Labour predecessor and a former secretary general of Nato, was not present; he was in Scotland celebrating his 80th birthday. But he returned to give a withering interview to the FT and a speech.

A Labour MP, reflecting on the problems the Prime Minister faces over the war in Iran, observed this week: ‘Keir got it right, but things keep going wrong.’ His point was that Starmer kept Britain out of the Israeli-American air strikes, a position popular both with the parliamentary Labour party and the electorate, yet the impact of that conflict has laid bare three serious problems at the heart of the British state. First, there has been a fracturing of relations between Starmer and Britain’s defence chief, Air Chief Marshal Sir Richard Knighton. Second is the vulnerability of the economy to energy price shocks. Third is Ed Miliband’s net-zero crusade, which has put further pressure on the cost of living, Starmer’s biggest domestic problem.

‘Shape without form, shade without colour. Paralysed force, gesture without motion.’ T.S Eliot’s lines from ‘The Hollow Men’ sum up in 11 words the emptiness of Sir Keir Starmer’s administration. Nowhere is the shade darker and the force more paralysed than in our government’s defence policy. At the Munich Security Conference last weekend, the Prime Minister boasted that he has demonstrated ‘Britain’s leadership on the world stage’ and pledged to augment our ‘huge defence capabilities’. A promise to increase defence spending further, faster, followed. But this is all gesture and no motion.

When you’re the chief of the defence staff, the head of the British armed forces, it’s never a good sign if your phone rings on a Sunday evening and it’s the permanent secretary. On this particular Sunday, in March 2021, the reason for the call was the Integrated Review of Security, Defence, Development and Foreign Policy, which was due to be published the following week. Although we had been closely involved in the work, the permanent secretary had been told that the chancellor had approved a settlement that would lead to punishing cuts. Something had to be done. I fully expected to get sacked or resign in protest when I made my way to Downing Street the next morning.

Last week, our political editor, Tim Shipman, revealed a recent meeting between Air Chief Marshal Sir Richard Knighton, the Chief of the Defence Staff, and the three heads of the services to discuss the defence investment plan. This plan governs the day-to-day armed forces’ budgets and follows the recent Strategic Defence and Security Review (SDSR), which sets our military aims as a nation. The chiefs agreed to write an unprecedented letter to John Healey, the Defence Secretary, explaining that the SDSR couldn’t be delivered without the requisite funding. That money was not forthcoming in the Budget, so they are forced to contemplate a bleak alternative: immediate cuts to both our forces and ambitions. These looming defence cuts could not come at a worse time.

Next month Jonathan Carley will appear in court in Carmarthen, charged with wearing military uniform without permission. This charge comes after a man purporting to be a Rear Admiral was pictured at a Remembrance Sunday service in Llandudno while wearing an impressive row of medals. One was Britain’s highest awards for gallantry – a Distinguished Service Order. This case of alleged ‘stolen valour’ highlights an odd loophole in the law. While it is illegal to wear military uniform if not serving in the armed forces, there is no current criminal sanction for wearing unearned medals. A previous legislative attempt to deal with this issue failed. Parliament should act again. Stolen valour involves ‘falsely claiming military service, rank or medallic recognition’.

Rachel Reeves may not be the most mellifluous writer ever to inhabit 11 Downing Street. At the weekend, she informed readers of the Mail on Sunday that she would ‘make no apology for keeping an iron grip on the country’s finances’ but was happy to spend money on training more ‘brickies, sparkies and chippies’. The lurch from cliché to fake colloquialism does not suggest Reeves will be bracketed with Disraeli, Gladstone, Churchill or Lawson. But there is one addition to the political lexicon for which Reeves is responsible and which deserves a revival – ‘securonomics’. Before Labour’s election, the term was never far from Reeves’s lips.