War with Russia

The impression of America’s decreasing interest in Europe was further reinforced by Obama’s abdication of diplomatic efforts to contain Russia in Ukraine in 2014. Don’t forget that America, together with Russia and the UK, were signatories of the Budapest Memorandum of 1994, under which Ukraine agreed to give up its nuclear weapons in return for US and Russian guarantees of its territorial integrity. Russia had torn up the Budapest Memorandum and Obama had chosen to forget American promises. I have served under the finest American generals and admirals in peace and war and know only too well that American leadership remains crucial to the defense and security of the free world—so this was not a good signal to send Russia, or the world.

The United Kingdom, Europe’s premier military power since the Second World War, was led, from 2010, by a coalition Prime Minister, David Cameron, who appeared increasingly backward-leaning on the international scene. His Defense Review of 2010 was nothing more than a gamble based on an assumption that the international scene would remain benign. Wars and conflicts that threatened the security of the United Kingdom were declared a thing of the past. The UK’s national strategy proclaimed that there was no existential threat to these shores. How irresponsibly naive that sounds, as I write these words today.

Having unilaterally decided that this was the way the world would be for the foreseeable future, the 2010 Review then emasculated British military capability. The consequences are far-reaching and difficult, if not near impossible, to reverse: 20,000 experienced regular soldiers were axed from the Army, nearly a quarter of its strength. Royal Navy frigate and destroyer numbers—the work horses of any fleet—were cut right back. Some ships came off station from the Libyan maritime embargo in 2011 and sailed direct to the breaker’s yard. It seemed quite extraordinary to me at the time to see our warships being broken up at the very moment they were most needed. The unraveling of Libya and the deepening turmoil of the Arab Spring ought to have told any politician with any sense that the world was not as safe and predictable as they were busy assuring us it was. Not only were Royal Air Force fast-jet numbers removed from the inventory, but that essential capability for a proud maritime nation, maritime patrol aircraft, was also disbanded. It would be difficult to overstate the disbelief of our allies or delight of our enemies at this shortsighted decision.

When I said in London’s Sunday Times at the end of March 2014, as I stepped down as DSACEUR, that this was a “hell of a gamble,” the Defense Secretary was so infuriated at being questioned in public that I was summoned by General Sir Peter Wall, the head of the British Army, and told that the Defense Secretary had wanted “formal action” taken against me. However, formal action would have involved a court-martial and, fortunately for the latter’s political reputation—it also seems he had not appreciated that I reported to NATO and not to him—wiser counsel had prevailed. But the damage to our armed forces and, through them, our ability to defend our national interests—the first duty of any government—had already been done.

This failure to understand the realities of dealing with bullies was further reinforced during Britain’s response to the crisis in the Middle East, caused by the eruption on the scene of the so-called Islamic State in the summer of 2014. Both the Prime Minister and the new Foreign Secretary, Philip Hammond, recently moved into post from Defense Minister (where, after threatening me, he had continued to oversee the rundown of British forces) waxed apocalyptic on the threat IS posed and yet did nothing credible to confront that threat. Foreign Secretary Hammond’s hubristic boast that “Britain defined itself by the extent to which it punched above its weight” was proved hollow.

So, when the former British Prime Minister himself wrote in a Sunday paper in 2014 that “Britain should avoid sending armies to fight”—strongly implying that the Army’s primary task was now humanitarian relief—I saw how the impact on the thinking of our allies and potential adversaries was profound. This pronouncement signalled that Britain was led by a government terrified of being seen to commit, but nevertheless yearning to be seen as bold and resolute. A country famous for once “walking softly and carrying a big stick”—meaning that British governments did not make threats they did not fully intend to implement—now had a leadership that shouted loudly but, thanks to ongoing defense cuts, carried an increasingly tiny and impotent stick. And be in no doubt, nobody in the military was fooled by the UK’s 2015 Strategic Defense and Security Review with its creative accounting to maintain the Defense budget at two per cent of GDP and the “jam tomorrow”—and most of these are many, many years in the future—of its big-ticket equipment items.