Here we are again, ladies and gentlemen, staring into the abyss of another Middle Eastern quagmire, this time with the distinct stench of a Trumpian tantrum wafting from the White House. The news that billions of dollars in arms sales to Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, funneled through the Trump administration’s ever-creative interpretation of ‘emergency’ powers, are now to face the scrutiny of the Commons Select Committee is, at best, a palliative gesture. At worst, it is a classic act of British parliamentary theatre, a performance of concern designed to soothe the public conscience while the real engines of destruction continue to churn.
Let us not mince words. The United States, under the current occupant of the Oval Office, has embarked on a policy of maximum pressure against Iran that is less a strategic doctrine and more a tired rerun of the Iraq War prelude. The ‘maximum pressure’ campaign is a blunt instrument that has already driven Iran to the brink of economic collapse and, predictably, to a more aggressive posture in the region. Now, with the assassination of Qasem Soleimani, we have moved from economic warfare to open state-sponsored terrorism, a line that even the most jaded realpolitik advocates once hesitated to cross. The billions in arms sales to the Gulf states are the sinews of this new war, a conflict for which the American Congress, and indeed the world, seem to have neither the appetite nor the authorization.
And what of Britain’s role? The Commons committee, chaired by the estimable Sir Bill Cash, will no doubt produce a report of meticulous detail and measured outrage. It will note that the UK has a legal and moral obligation to ensure that arms sales do not contribute to a humanitarian catastrophe in Yemen, a catastrophe that is already unfolding in slow motion. It will point out that the Trump administration’s invocation of emergency powers to bypass Congressional oversight is a dangerous precedent. But what will this scrutiny actually achieve? Precious little. The British government, in its infinite timidity, has already signalled that it will not stand in the way of American policy. The Foreign Office will issue statements of concern, the Prime Minister will offer platitudes about de-escalation, and the arms will continue to flow.
This is not a new dance. We have seen it before, in the run-up to the Iraq War, when the Blair government contorted itself into a pretzel of legal justifications to join an illegal invasion. Now, we see the same pattern, this time with the added farce of a president who openly mocks the international order while his allies in Whitehall pretend that their influence can still moderate his behaviour. The historical parallel is not with the Peloponnesian War or the fall of Rome, but with the Victorian era, when British statesmen convinced themselves that they could civilise the world through gunboat diplomacy and selective moral outrage. We all know how that ended.
What we need is not scrutiny but action. A full cessation of arms sales to Saudi Arabia and the UAE, a clear disavowal of the Soleimani assassination, and a genuine effort to revive the nuclear deal with Iran. Anything less is a betrayal of the very principles that the Commons committee purports to uphold. But I suspect we will get more hand-wringing and less honesty. After all, the arms industry is a lucrative one, and the special relationship with the United States is a sacred cow that no British politician dares to slaughter.
So let the committee convene. Let the witnesses be called and the papers be reviewed. The report will be a fine piece of literature, a testament to the failure of our political class to learn from history. And if you listen closely, you will hear the sound of war drums beating in the distance, undimmed by the polite applause of the committee room.
