The decision to go ahead with the
visit has alienated the voters who expect more from their government. And it has squandered whatever remaining moral
authority that the Starmer government claims on the world stage.
By Fareed Khan
A version of this can be found on Substack.
A version of this can be found on Substack.
As King Charles
III and Queen Camilla prepare to touch down in Washington this weekend for a
four-day state visit hosted by President Donald Trump, the United Kingdom
government’s decision to press ahead with it looks less like prudent diplomacy
and more like a catastrophic political miscalculation.
Scheduled for April 27 to 30, 2026, the trip is billed as a celebration of the 250th anniversary of American independence. In reality, it unfolds against a backdrop of acute transatlantic strain—a US-led war in Iran that the UK has pointedly refused to support in full, and a president who has spent the past year publicly humiliating the British. By allowing the King to proceed with the visit, Prime Minister Keir Starmer’s government has handed Trump a glittering propaganda victory while exposing the monarchy to potential embarrassment and, crucially, dragging Canada—where King Charles is also head of state—into the political crossfire. This is not statesmanship. In the current political climate between the US and the UK it is a blunder of historic proportions.
The case for cancellation was never abstract. It has been spelled out in stark terms by opposition leaders in the British Parliament, senior Labour Party figures, and ordinary citizens. A YouGov poll for The Times found that 45% of the British public believe the visit should be scrapped outright. Liberal Democrat Party leader Ed Davey has been relentless, describing the trip as a reward for “bullying behaviour”, and an “illegal war” in Iran that is destabilising the Middle East and driving up energy bills for British families. Davey has repeatedly called Trump a “mafia boss running a protection racket” and accused Starmer of weakness for refusing to stand up to him.
Twenty-nine Liberal Democrat Members of Parliament signed a motion urging cancellation. Green Party leader Zack Polanski labelled Trump “dangerous” and “unpredictable” and condemned the government’s capitulation. Even within Labour, MP Emily Thornberry warned that the visit against the backdrop of an illegal war risks embarrassing the royals. Guardian letter-writers echoed the sentiment, arguing that Trump would see the visit as personal tribute rather than apolitical protocol, and calling the optics “awful”, accusing the government of pandering to Trump’s narcissism.
Yet Starmer’s government ploughed on, insisting the visit is “non-political soft diplomacy.” That claim collapsed the moment one examines how Trump operates. The president has never met a photo opportunity he did not turn into a personal endorsement. A state banquet, an address to Congress, joint appearances with the King in Washington, New York, and Virginia—these are not neutral ceremonies. They are catnip for a man who already boasts about restoring the “special relationship” on his own terms. Trump will frame every handshake, every toast, every regal flourish as implicit British (and therefore allied) approval of his most controversial policies—the Iran campaign, his confrontational style with NATO partners, and his willingness to berate allies in public. The visit becomes Exhibit A in his narrative that even the stuffiest of old-world institutions have come around to “Trumpism.” Starmer’s ministers may whisper that the monarchy is above politics, but Trump will shout the opposite from every podium.
Worse, the risk of real-time embarrassment is not hypothetical—it is almost inevitable. Trump’s well-documented penchant for straying from the script has already produced diplomatic disasters. He has dismissed the Royal Navy's ships as “toys,” sneered that Keir Starmer is “no Winston Churchill,” and accused his government of wrecking the special relationship. During the visit he could easily veer off-message with a casual aside about British military “weakness,” a boast about forcing allies to “pay up,” or a joke at the expense of the very man standing beside him. Buckingham Palace’s careful choreography—every word of the King’s speeches pre-vetted, every gesture calibrated for neutrality—will mean nothing if the American president treats the occasion like a political rally. The King, whose role demands dignified silence in the face of provocation, would be left either to smile awkwardly or to endure a breach of protocol that damages the institution he represents. No amount of post-visit spin can erase footage of the monarch standing mute while his host insults the country over which he reigns.
The domestic cost to Britain is already evident. Cancellation would have been a principled signal that London will not legitimise unilateral wars, will not reward public insults to its armed forces, and will not allow the monarchy to become a prop in someone else’s political agenda. Instead, the British government’s decision has deepened divisions in that country. It has handed the opposition in Westminster a ready-made stick with which to beat Starmer as “weak on bullies.” The decision to go ahead with the visit has alienated the very voters who expect the British government to do far better. And it has squandered whatever remaining moral authority that the Starmer government claims on the world stage. When the prime minister’s office insists the visit is “on government advice,” it merely confirms the parliamentary opposition’s claims that the Labour government lacks the spine to say no—even when the national interest screams otherwise.
The repercussions extend beyond the United Kingdom. King Charles is not only the United Kingdom’s monarch, he is also Canada’s head of state. The visit therefore implicates Ottawa in ways that haven’t even been considered in London. Canadian public opinion has long been critical of Trump’s style and policies. Many Canadians continue to be outraged at the trade war launched by Trump, about tariffs on Canadian steel and aluminum, his threats about possibly cancelling the USMCA, and his repeated expressions of disrespect directed at former Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and current Prime Minister Mark Carney. A royal state visit—complete with Trump’s inevitable claims of restored friendship—will be interpreted by many in Canada as tacit endorsement of the very administration with which Ottawa now has an adversarial relationship.
Polls in Canada already show unease about the monarchy’s relevance, and this episode could turbo-charge republican sentiment. More dangerously, it risks complicating Canada-US relations at a delicate moment. If Trump uses the King’s presence to pressure Canada, Ottawa will find itself caught between loyalty to the Crown and the need to protect Canadian interests. The constitutional fiction that the King acts solely on British ministerial advice offers little comfort when the images will be broadcast live from the White House lawn. Canadians did not ask for their head of state to become a prop in Trump’s diplomatic theatre. And the fact that Canada wasn’t consulted given Canada’s close economic and military ties with the US (far closer than what the UK has) is deeply troubling.
The UK government’s defenders will trot out the usual bromides—tradition, the 250th anniversary, the importance of the special relationship. But tradition does not require grovelling before a leader who has spent months disparaging Britain. Anniversary symbolism cannot justify tacitly endorsing a war against Iran that the UK itself has declined to join. And the so-called special relationship has never been more lopsided. Trump’s own disparaging words towards the British reveal how he views the UK. It should be noted that a state visit is not a repair kit, it is a reward. By granting it, Britain signals that insults can be forgotten, that unilateral aggression carries no diplomatic cost, and that even the monarchy can be co-opted. That is precisely the message Trump craves.
Critics inside and outside government offered Starmer a clear off-ramp. Ed Davey’s warnings about humiliation, the Early Day Motion, the public polling, the Guardian letters—all pointed to the same conclusion, that the visit should be postponed, cancelled, or at minimum scaled back to a working visit without the full royal pageantry. Starmer decided to ignore them resulting in a self-inflicted wound. The King will arrive in Washington not as a symbol of continuity and dignity, but as the reluctant face of a policy that looks to much of the British public and many international observers, like appeasement hiding behind pageantry.
History will not be kind to Starmer for this decision. British history will note that in April 2026, with the Middle East in flames and the Atlantic alliance fraying, all due to Trump’s actions, a Labour government chose to send the King to break bread with a president whose actions endangered the world. They will record the predictable outcome—Trump crowing about how the British love him, the King placed in an impossible situation, and Canada by extension caught in the back wash. The special relationship is not being strengthened, it is being cheapened, and the monarchy is being politicized. With this visit the United Kingdom’s reputation for principled restraint is being further tarnished, and the likely political gain will be minimal.
There is still time—barely—for a last-minute adjustment. The Starmer government could issue a discreet clarification that the visit proceeds with reservations. The prime minister could use the remaining hours to impose stricter ground rules on what can be said in the presence of the King. But the wiser course would have been to cancel the visit weeks ago. Unfortunately, that ship has sailed.
This weekend’s events represent a colossal mistake born of a huge political miscalculation. Britain—and Canada—will be living with the consequences long after King Charles returns home and the state banquet candles are extinguished. Even as Canada and the UK’s allies redouble their efforts at traditional diplomacy—quiet negotiations, multilateral forums, and appeals to shared history—the Donald Trump’s unpredictable impulses suggest that fresh rounds of chaos, tariffs, territorial jabs, or diplomatic broadsides are likely to follow no matter the efforts to maintain “normal” relations with the US.
© 2026 The View From Here. © 2026 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.
Scheduled for April 27 to 30, 2026, the trip is billed as a celebration of the 250th anniversary of American independence. In reality, it unfolds against a backdrop of acute transatlantic strain—a US-led war in Iran that the UK has pointedly refused to support in full, and a president who has spent the past year publicly humiliating the British. By allowing the King to proceed with the visit, Prime Minister Keir Starmer’s government has handed Trump a glittering propaganda victory while exposing the monarchy to potential embarrassment and, crucially, dragging Canada—where King Charles is also head of state—into the political crossfire. This is not statesmanship. In the current political climate between the US and the UK it is a blunder of historic proportions.
The case for cancellation was never abstract. It has been spelled out in stark terms by opposition leaders in the British Parliament, senior Labour Party figures, and ordinary citizens. A YouGov poll for The Times found that 45% of the British public believe the visit should be scrapped outright. Liberal Democrat Party leader Ed Davey has been relentless, describing the trip as a reward for “bullying behaviour”, and an “illegal war” in Iran that is destabilising the Middle East and driving up energy bills for British families. Davey has repeatedly called Trump a “mafia boss running a protection racket” and accused Starmer of weakness for refusing to stand up to him.
Twenty-nine Liberal Democrat Members of Parliament signed a motion urging cancellation. Green Party leader Zack Polanski labelled Trump “dangerous” and “unpredictable” and condemned the government’s capitulation. Even within Labour, MP Emily Thornberry warned that the visit against the backdrop of an illegal war risks embarrassing the royals. Guardian letter-writers echoed the sentiment, arguing that Trump would see the visit as personal tribute rather than apolitical protocol, and calling the optics “awful”, accusing the government of pandering to Trump’s narcissism.
Yet Starmer’s government ploughed on, insisting the visit is “non-political soft diplomacy.” That claim collapsed the moment one examines how Trump operates. The president has never met a photo opportunity he did not turn into a personal endorsement. A state banquet, an address to Congress, joint appearances with the King in Washington, New York, and Virginia—these are not neutral ceremonies. They are catnip for a man who already boasts about restoring the “special relationship” on his own terms. Trump will frame every handshake, every toast, every regal flourish as implicit British (and therefore allied) approval of his most controversial policies—the Iran campaign, his confrontational style with NATO partners, and his willingness to berate allies in public. The visit becomes Exhibit A in his narrative that even the stuffiest of old-world institutions have come around to “Trumpism.” Starmer’s ministers may whisper that the monarchy is above politics, but Trump will shout the opposite from every podium.
Worse, the risk of real-time embarrassment is not hypothetical—it is almost inevitable. Trump’s well-documented penchant for straying from the script has already produced diplomatic disasters. He has dismissed the Royal Navy's ships as “toys,” sneered that Keir Starmer is “no Winston Churchill,” and accused his government of wrecking the special relationship. During the visit he could easily veer off-message with a casual aside about British military “weakness,” a boast about forcing allies to “pay up,” or a joke at the expense of the very man standing beside him. Buckingham Palace’s careful choreography—every word of the King’s speeches pre-vetted, every gesture calibrated for neutrality—will mean nothing if the American president treats the occasion like a political rally. The King, whose role demands dignified silence in the face of provocation, would be left either to smile awkwardly or to endure a breach of protocol that damages the institution he represents. No amount of post-visit spin can erase footage of the monarch standing mute while his host insults the country over which he reigns.
The domestic cost to Britain is already evident. Cancellation would have been a principled signal that London will not legitimise unilateral wars, will not reward public insults to its armed forces, and will not allow the monarchy to become a prop in someone else’s political agenda. Instead, the British government’s decision has deepened divisions in that country. It has handed the opposition in Westminster a ready-made stick with which to beat Starmer as “weak on bullies.” The decision to go ahead with the visit has alienated the very voters who expect the British government to do far better. And it has squandered whatever remaining moral authority that the Starmer government claims on the world stage. When the prime minister’s office insists the visit is “on government advice,” it merely confirms the parliamentary opposition’s claims that the Labour government lacks the spine to say no—even when the national interest screams otherwise.
The repercussions extend beyond the United Kingdom. King Charles is not only the United Kingdom’s monarch, he is also Canada’s head of state. The visit therefore implicates Ottawa in ways that haven’t even been considered in London. Canadian public opinion has long been critical of Trump’s style and policies. Many Canadians continue to be outraged at the trade war launched by Trump, about tariffs on Canadian steel and aluminum, his threats about possibly cancelling the USMCA, and his repeated expressions of disrespect directed at former Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and current Prime Minister Mark Carney. A royal state visit—complete with Trump’s inevitable claims of restored friendship—will be interpreted by many in Canada as tacit endorsement of the very administration with which Ottawa now has an adversarial relationship.
Polls in Canada already show unease about the monarchy’s relevance, and this episode could turbo-charge republican sentiment. More dangerously, it risks complicating Canada-US relations at a delicate moment. If Trump uses the King’s presence to pressure Canada, Ottawa will find itself caught between loyalty to the Crown and the need to protect Canadian interests. The constitutional fiction that the King acts solely on British ministerial advice offers little comfort when the images will be broadcast live from the White House lawn. Canadians did not ask for their head of state to become a prop in Trump’s diplomatic theatre. And the fact that Canada wasn’t consulted given Canada’s close economic and military ties with the US (far closer than what the UK has) is deeply troubling.
The UK government’s defenders will trot out the usual bromides—tradition, the 250th anniversary, the importance of the special relationship. But tradition does not require grovelling before a leader who has spent months disparaging Britain. Anniversary symbolism cannot justify tacitly endorsing a war against Iran that the UK itself has declined to join. And the so-called special relationship has never been more lopsided. Trump’s own disparaging words towards the British reveal how he views the UK. It should be noted that a state visit is not a repair kit, it is a reward. By granting it, Britain signals that insults can be forgotten, that unilateral aggression carries no diplomatic cost, and that even the monarchy can be co-opted. That is precisely the message Trump craves.
Critics inside and outside government offered Starmer a clear off-ramp. Ed Davey’s warnings about humiliation, the Early Day Motion, the public polling, the Guardian letters—all pointed to the same conclusion, that the visit should be postponed, cancelled, or at minimum scaled back to a working visit without the full royal pageantry. Starmer decided to ignore them resulting in a self-inflicted wound. The King will arrive in Washington not as a symbol of continuity and dignity, but as the reluctant face of a policy that looks to much of the British public and many international observers, like appeasement hiding behind pageantry.
History will not be kind to Starmer for this decision. British history will note that in April 2026, with the Middle East in flames and the Atlantic alliance fraying, all due to Trump’s actions, a Labour government chose to send the King to break bread with a president whose actions endangered the world. They will record the predictable outcome—Trump crowing about how the British love him, the King placed in an impossible situation, and Canada by extension caught in the back wash. The special relationship is not being strengthened, it is being cheapened, and the monarchy is being politicized. With this visit the United Kingdom’s reputation for principled restraint is being further tarnished, and the likely political gain will be minimal.
There is still time—barely—for a last-minute adjustment. The Starmer government could issue a discreet clarification that the visit proceeds with reservations. The prime minister could use the remaining hours to impose stricter ground rules on what can be said in the presence of the King. But the wiser course would have been to cancel the visit weeks ago. Unfortunately, that ship has sailed.
This weekend’s events represent a colossal mistake born of a huge political miscalculation. Britain—and Canada—will be living with the consequences long after King Charles returns home and the state banquet candles are extinguished. Even as Canada and the UK’s allies redouble their efforts at traditional diplomacy—quiet negotiations, multilateral forums, and appeals to shared history—the Donald Trump’s unpredictable impulses suggest that fresh rounds of chaos, tariffs, territorial jabs, or diplomatic broadsides are likely to follow no matter the efforts to maintain “normal” relations with the US.
© 2026 The View From Here. © 2026 Fareed Khan. All Rights Reserved.
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