Keir Starmer on Putin, Trump and Europe’s Challenge: ‘We’ve Known This Moment Was Coming’

A sharp, staccato horn blast echoed through the control room of the H.M.S. Vanguard, signaling the crew of the Royal Navy’s nuclear-armed submarine to take their battle stations. Over the intercom, the commanding officer’s voice crackled with authority: “Set condition 1SQ,” he ordered, instructing the crew to prepare the submarine’s arsenal of ballistic missiles for launch.

It was merely an exercise, conducted last Monday in the presence of a distinguished visitor—Prime Minister Keir Starmer. Yet, the gravity of the moment was not lost on him as he observed where the launch key was kept. As the sole individual in the United Kingdom authorized to order a nuclear strike, Starmer had every reason to pay close attention.

“You’re looking for the ideal conditions?” Starmer asked quietly, watching as the captain explained the precise depth at which the Vanguard must operate to fire its Trident missiles. Seated in the captain’s chair, he leaned forward, the glow of the control screens reflecting off his glasses.

Later, after ascending a 32-foot ladder to the deck, Starmer reflected on the submarine’s mission—a silent, months-long patrol in the depths of the Atlantic, serving as a deterrent against nuclear conflict with Russia. At least one of the four Vanguard-class submarines is always on duty, ensuring the UK’s continuous defense posture. At a time when Europe’s defense capabilities face scrutiny, not least from President Trump, Starmer reaffirmed the significance of these vessels as a steadfast symbol of Britain’s commitment to NATO.

“For 55 years—24 hours a day, 365 days a year—it has preserved peace,” he told me as the Vanguard set course for its home port in Scotland.

On the tugboat ferrying us back to shore in the Firth of Clyde, Starmer sat alone, gazing out the window at the darkening sky. The past few weeks had been defining—sobering even—for the 62-year-old leader. Swept into power eight months ago amid growing public frustration over the cost of living, he now faced a more daunting challenge: preventing the unraveling of the post-World War II alliance between Europe and the United States.

“We’ve known this moment was coming since the day Russian tanks crossed the Ukrainian border over three years ago,” Starmer said, acknowledging Europe’s growing vulnerability and the strains within NATO. “We must see this as a rallying moment and take the initiative.”

The crisis has reshaped Starmer’s role, transforming the meticulous and reserved human rights lawyer-turned-politician into something resembling a wartime leader. With economic and welfare debates taking a backseat to pressing national security concerns, he invoked Winston Churchill and, in a nod to his own party’s legacy, Clement Attlee—the UK’s first postwar Labour prime minister—as he articulated Britain’s crucial position in an increasingly fragmented West.

“Some argue we must choose between the U.S. and Europe,” he noted during one of our conversations last week. “Churchill never did. Attlee never did. And in my view, making that choice now would be a serious mistake.”

Pausing for a moment, he added, “That said, President Trump isn’t wrong when he says European nations need to shoulder more of the collective defense burden.”

The immediate concern is whether Britain and Europe can assert a meaningful role in Trump’s negotiations with Russian President Vladimir V. Putin. To ensure they do, Starmer is working to assemble a multinational military force—a “coalition of the willing,” as he calls it—aimed at securing Ukraine’s skies, ports, and borders in the aftermath of any potential peace deal.

“I don’t trust Putin,” Starmer said bluntly. “I’m sure he would insist on leaving Ukraine defenseless after an agreement, giving him exactly what he wants—an open door for another invasion.”

Britain faces obstacles at every turn. Russia has outright rejected the idea of a NATO peacekeeping force. Trump has yet to offer security guarantees—an essential condition, according to Starmer, before other nations will commit troops. Aside from Britain and France, no European country has done so, even as Starmer convened the coalition’s first military planning meeting last Thursday.

Senior British defense officials anticipate that, in time, multiple nations will contribute aircraft, ships, or personnel. But despite the political and diplomatic uncertainties, Starmer believes he has little choice but to act decisively.

“If we wait for the most cautious to set the pace,” he remarked, “we’ll be moving far too slowly to position ourselves where we need to be.”

Behind this flurry of diplomatic activity lies an even greater challenge: persuading Trump of NATO’s enduring value. The U.S. president has long dismissed the 75-year-old alliance as a collective of free riders, benefiting from American protection without making sufficient financial contributions.

Unlike French President Emmanuel Macron or Germany’s incoming chancellor, Friedrich Merz, Starmer has refrained from advocating for European strategic autonomy in security matters. Instead, he insists that the UK-U.S. “special relationship” remains rock-solid, emphasizing the deep integration of British and American military forces—most notably, the U.S. supply of Trident missiles for the UK’s submarines.

To maintain diplomatic ties, Starmer has made a concerted effort to build rapport with Trump. He calls him frequently and, during a visit to the White House last month, personally delivered an invitation from King Charles III for a state visit to Britain—an offer Trump reportedly appreciated, recalling fond memories of his meetings with Queen Elizabeth II.

The two leaders could hardly be more different—Starmer, disciplined and reserved, with a left-leaning political background; Trump, unpredictable and flamboyant, with a taste for grandeur. Yet, their interactions have fostered a surprising connection. According to a senior aide, Trump occasionally calls Starmer’s cellphone to chat about his favorite golf resorts in Scotland.

“On a personal level, I think we have a good relationship,” Starmer said, recalling their first meeting over dinner at Trump Tower last fall. “I respect him. I understand what he’s trying to achieve.”

As for Trump’s policies—whether imposing a 25% tariff on British steel or publicly pressuring Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky—Starmer acknowledges they have caused significant unease. But his approach, he says, is to avoid reacting impulsively.

“When the Oval Office meeting between Trump and Zelensky didn’t go well, there was pressure on us to issue an immediate, strongly worded rebuke,” Starmer recalled. “I took a different view—better to pick up the phone and engage both sides in conversation, to try and bring them back into alignment.”

To that end, Starmer sent his national security adviser, Jonathan Powell, to Kyiv to coach Zelensky on handling relations with Trump. Over multiple sessions, Powell and Ukrainian officials crafted diplomatic language aimed at assuaging concerns about a ceasefire that could leave Ukraine exposed to further Russian aggression.

Starmer then personally called Trump to update him on progress and set the stage for a direct conversation between Trump and Zelensky. When the two leaders spoke again, Zelensky expressed his support for Trump’s peace efforts.

By positioning himself as a bridge, Starmer is attempting to reclaim a role Britain played for decades before Brexit. The UK’s absence from European decision-making in recent years, he suggested, is over. “We’re back,” he said.

Yet, Britain’s influence outside the European Union has its limits. The EU recently warned that unless the UK signs a security partnership agreement with Brussels, British defense manufacturers will be excluded from a €150 billion ($162 billion) defense fund. Analysts warn that Britain’s ability to mediate between the U.S. and Europe could be undercut if Trump shields the UK from broader tariffs while targeting the EU.

For now, Starmer’s diplomatic efforts have boosted his approval ratings and earned him cross-party praise. But the sustainability of this newfound stature remains uncertain. Domestically, economic struggles persist, and his decision to cut winter heating assistance for retirees has drawn criticism.

Even seemingly minor crises—like Friday’s fire at an electrical substation in London, which shut down Heathrow Airport and threw thousands of travel plans into chaos—serve as reminders that a government’s priorities can be swiftly derailed.

Looking ahead, Starmer faces tough fiscal choices. He has committed to increasing military spending to 2.5% of GDP by 2027, funded by cuts to overseas aid. How the UK will finance a further rise to 3% within the next decade remains unclear.

“We’ve all enjoyed the peace dividend,” he noted, acknowledging a shift into a more uncertain era. “I don’t want to…”