China, Digital Economy, Economic, International trade, United States

Essay: Hormuz has exposed flaws in Beijing’s economic model

CHINA’S ECONOMIC MODEL

Intro: As the US president prepares to visit Beijing, he may have ended China’s decades-long growth miracle. Trump’s war on Iran, and especially the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, has China in a chokehold

In the modern era, we have witnessed among many things, a robot that can win a half-marathon, a pilot-less plane, a soap opera made by AI, and an electric supercar with a top speed of 308 miles per hour.

Whenever a new bit of Chinese-made tech goes viral online, it seems to be something that goes further, faster, or smarter than ever before. And every time, it feels like a silicon-made metaphor for China’s coming of age as a global superpower.

As Donald Trump prepares to visit Beijing this month, he confronts a Communist Party regime that, on the face of it, looks on the up. Beijing controls access to critical minerals used by his military, and holds at least $700bn (£517bn) in outstanding loans to his government.

Little wonder that, even as he pours scorn on Sir Keir Starmer, Emmanuel Macron, Friedrich Merz and Mark Carney, Trump deferentially refers to his Chinese counterpart Xi Jinping as “the Highly Respected President of China”.

However, that doesn’t mean Trump is making things easy for Xi.

First he choked off the half-million daily barrels of oil that China was buying from Venezuela.

Now, his attacks on Iran, leading to the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, has squeezed another 40pc of Chinese crude supply.

An oil crunch is never good news, but Beijing was prepared for this. Through price caps, export bans, fuel stockpiles and home-grown alternatives to imported oil and gas, China has managed to stave off the early economic threat from the Iran War.

If the conflict drags on and the Strait of Hormuz remains closed, however, China could start to feel the pinch.  

A global slowdown or recession could cut demand for its exports, which have been almost single-handedly propping up the Chinese economy ever since the country’s great property crash of 2021.

And if that happens, Xi may struggle to keep a lid on three ticking time bombs sitting beneath China’s economy: its reliance on bloated factories churning out exports; its spiralling budget debts; and its alarmingly shrinking population.

Xi hopes to diffuse these problems by winning the global race on artificial intelligence, quantum computing, and robotics. But the Communist Party is also eager to stay in control, so it may struggle to make the most of this disruptive juggernaut.

The war against Iran isn’t going to plan for Trump. Yet whatever his intentions were, he may have triggered the tripwire that will blow up China’s decades-long growth miracle.

And this won’t be the only consequence of the Iran conflict that Xi is currently weighing up.

As ever, his thoughts will have quickly turned to Taiwan – an island whose reunification, he has previously said, is a task for his generation to fulfil.

He might like what he sees. The war in the Gulf may divert America’s attention, money, and resources away from the Pacific. It may strain alliances in which Taiwan has put faith.

If Iran’s asymmetric resistance to superior US forces is a play-book for Taipei, then Beijing can pick up strategies and tactics on how to push past it.

Chatham House, a think tank, says that a world in which the Trump administration is expressing a lot of transactionalism, and with the US maybe diminished by its failure in Iran, all of this opens up possibilities for Beijing vis-à-vis Taiwan.

Perhaps this is why Xi has been relatively quiet on Iran. Since the war began on February 28 he has only once picked up the megaphone, urging a swift reopening of Hormuz. This is likely to remain his top priority – the Chinese economy, and his regime’s legitimacy, may yet depend on it.

Economic shock

On Zhihu, a Reddit-style Chinese social media site, users enjoying a cloak of anonymity are swapping stories on the impact of the US-Iran war.

One user wrote: “My industry uses plastic as a raw material… Since plastic is a derivative of oil, the cost of raw materials has doubled and changes three times a day, with no stable price. As a result, global customers have stopped placing orders because they dare not order.

“Work has stalled, and the long-term high-pressure work is exhausting. I can’t change natural disasters or man-made calamities. Fine, I’ll go relax for a few days. But I realised that air ticket prices have also gone absurdly high, so I can’t go out.

“I have no choice but to squat every day in front of the Longjiang Braised Pork Leg Rice stall downstairs, asking, ‘Is it half price after 8pm?’”

China is powerfully exposed to the current of high costs rippling out from the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, the vital conduit for oil, gas, petroleum products, and fertiliser. China imports about 70pc of the oil it needs, of which about half comes from the Persian Gulf. Its shipments from there slumped by a third in March from a year earlier, and that number doesn’t even include the illicit Iranian oil.

On the gas front, about half of China’s gas imports come via pipelines from Russia, Myanmar and central Asia, with the rest arriving on LNG tankers. A third of that LNG comes via Hormuz, and imports plunged by 41pc in March.

For now, the damage may be less than these numbers might suggest, because China has spent the past decade building a huge and still growing domestic gas industry.

This insurance policy means home-grown output now satisfies almost two-thirds of China’s gas demand, so the Iran War has disrupted just 5pc of China’s total supply. It looks as if, in some ways, China has been preparing for this type of situation better than anybody else.

The Chinese have been similarly savvy with crude oil. Last year it bought 11.6 million barrels per day (bpd), taking advantage of lower prices to stockpile almost half a million bpd. By the end of 2025, that reserve totalled almost 1.4 billion barrels, vastly more than the rest of the rich world put together.

If China released supplies from this trove of black gold at a rate of 2 million bpd, a level that would largely negate the Hormuz closure, the stockpile would still last until at least the end of next year.

Still, the Chinese aren’t leaving anything to chance. Beijing told its refineries to stop exporting petrol, diesel, and jet fuel – in case supplies run low. But this has rebounded on Beijing. The move irked trading partners such as Vietnam, the Philippines, Singapore and Australia, whose fuel shortfalls have been exacerbated by China’s parsimony.

China appears to have now acknowledged that its stockpiles are almost too big, and that it needs to mend some fences. According to Bloomberg, exporters have now had approval to ship 500,000 tons to regular customers.

China’s biggest vulnerability to Iran, lies in its reliance on oil-based products like naphtha, which is vital to greasing the mighty Chinese industrial machine.

If you go back far enough in the chemical processing chain, or petroleum products, that’s where you’ll see the prices rise. Access to that is a continual problem, and that’s where the greatest fear is.

Producer price inflation, which was at or below zero last year, hit 1pc in March – the highest since the pandemic. Businesses, however, can’t pass these costs on to customers, largely because they are not spending.

Retail sales rose an annually sluggish 1.7pc in March, and in April car sales dropped by more than 25pc. The household savings rate was 37.8pc in the first quarter, the highest recorded (with the exception of the pandemic).

Consequently, if the situation continues to escalate and oil prices keep rising, then there is going to be some damage.

Exports to the rescue?

China’s get-out-of-jail card is its exports. The country’s use of coal, wind, and solar has insulated its producers from the global energy shock, helping to keep export prices competitive.

Export growth slowed to 2.5pc year-on-year in March, but a key indicator of activity at export-oriented firms in April hit 52.2, its highest level in more than five years.

That buoyancy in part reflects Chinese factories’ dominance of the supply chain for wind turbines, solar panels, batteries, and electric cars. The soaring oil price has brought green tech back into worldwide fashion.

Exports of solar cells doubled in March, and were up by more than a third for lithium-ion batteries.

Nonetheless, this tech, together with electric vehicles known in Beijing as “the new three”, still comprises just 7pc of China’s exports. The wider trading picture will be more worrying for China.

If the Strait of Hormuz remains closed for several more months, the blow to the global economy will get exponentially bigger – and the appetite to buy goods from China may wane. Exports to the Middle East are already suffering. On Zhihu, one post related how a toy exporter had seen a 20pc to 40pc drop in demand. “Even Saudi Arabia and the UAE are waiting and watching, afraid of escalating conflicts. No one dares to act recklessly.”

The real pain could come from south-east Asia. It has been a crucial shock absorber for Chinese exporters who have had to drop out of the US market since Trump returned to the White House. But many of these countries are Hormuz-dependent, and the war has hit them hard.

If its trading partners don’t want to buy so much, then China won’t be selling so much either.

This is the tripwire that could set off China’s first time-bomb. Beijing has spent decades subsidising its industries to produce more and more, but China’s massive domestic consumer base simply refuses to spend.

This means the only place for factories’ over-production is the world market. But, if demand for exports falters, the cracks in the Communist Party’s model will open wider and wider.

The trouble is, the only way out of this impasse could be a worldwide trade war.

A broken economic model

China’s most well-known company, these days, is probably the electric car giant BYD. In just two decades, it has risen to the pinnacle of the global EV market. Yet, all is not well. Its first-quarter profit is down 55pc, to a three-year low. Its inventory of unsold stock has stacked up by 16pc since the start of the year.

BYD and fellow carmakers are capable of producing more than twice the number of vehicles each year that they can actually sell within China.

At home, this forces BYD and its rivals into a price war, squeezing margins. Domestic sales, though, have still declined for seven straight months.

Meanwhile, exports are booming. BYD’s overseas sales jumped more than 50pc in the first quarter, accounting for 45pc of all sales.

Its market share in Europe might still be only 2.2pc, but aggressive discounting in Germany has helped more than double this figure in the past 12 months.

BYD’s story is a microcosm of the successes, failures, and risks of China’s economic model.

The system builds powerful companies, but relies on the rest of the world to pick up the tab.

China’s trade surplus with the rest of the world hit $1tn last year. This is, in effect, a monetary gauge of the de-industrialisation of the West, and the stymieing of industrial development in poorer countries.

The rest of the world’s tolerance for this is gradually waning. Trump may have stepped back from his tariff war, but many observers suggest it’s only a matter of time before China provokes a wider backlash.

China’s strategy is always outbound, export driven, because they don’t have the demand. So, it’s not going to change. But of course, individual countries could change, the world could change.

The reckoning is already approaching. Countries are realising that they need some economic security. That means maybe not getting the absolute rock bottom price but having to pay something in order to have diversified suppliers.

The only way Beijing can head off the consequences of an export downturn would be to bolster demand at home. However, this is now a deeply entrenched problem.

China’s consumer confidence index stood at 92 points in February. That was a three-year high, but before the property crash the index was never below 100. It appears that the Chinese do not want to buy consumer durables; they buy consumer staples, cheap goods that are consumed every day.

Households face insecurity on every front. Their real incomes grew 4pc in the first quarter, but have been slowing for years from the 6pc-plus rate pre-Covid.

House prices, which plunged after the authorities called time on a property bubble in 2021, are still falling everywhere except Beijing, Shanghai, and a handful of other large cities.

Property is still the biggest asset held by Chinese households. If housing continues shrinking in value, that just works against the authorities’ other efforts to try and stimulate consumption.

The jobs market is also failing to inspire confidence. The unemployment rate of 5.4pc is at a three-year high. The youth jobless rate has been improving, but is still high at 17pc.

Graduates of elite universities are still finding jobs, and some businesses are still hiring, however life is tough for young people further down the ladder.

The government has tried to stimulate consumption, but in a piecemeal fashion. Its signature effort last year was a trade-in scheme for white goods, which delivered at best a mild and temporary boost.

Many hoped that a recent meeting of the Communist Party’s Politburo would recognise that the economic model was unsustainable. Disappointment followed.

There were no concrete measures or targets around anything that would boost household consumption, say analysts at Capital Economics.

Without targets for lower tiers of government, they say, nothing will change.

“A lot of the high-level policies are focused on boosting domestic self-sufficiency, on AI and tech development… It feels like those will continue to be the priorities. That might come at the cost of, or instead of, boosting support for households.”

Beijing has apparently decided that its export-oriented model won’t trigger a trade war, or hobble the profits of its companies.

Some say the regime may see more risk in changing course than in sticking to what it knows, and projecting stability. However, sitting on their hands represents the real risk.

As soon as Western countries start threatening demand, China will be severely hampered. It will mean factory closures. It will mean spiralling deflation, on top of the deflation we’re already seeing because of overcapacity and over investment. This will become catastrophic for the average Chinese household.

Two more time-bombs: No babies, no budget

The deep-seated consumer anxiety may be one reason why many Chinese are choosing not to have children.

A recent Rhodium report noted that the 7.9 million births last year was half the number a decade ago. Births are at 1939 levels – below even the time of the one-child policy (which ended in 2016).

As the death rate creeps up, the country will lose nearly 60m people in the next decade – a population almost the size of France.

Beijing has offered a 3,600-yuan (£390) subsidy per child for three years, starting last year. But government policy seldom reverses a demographic decline.

The population loss is going to make the problem of domestic under-consumption much, much worse.

That’s going to present a massive headwind to China’s economy, and that’s why they will be hoping to gain productivity benefits from new technology like AI, to offset that.

Rhodium says this will create a massive budget headache for Beijing, as the government is forced to support an older population with fewer taxpaying workers.

However, Beijing is already fiscally neuralgic. Government revenue is now almost static, with tax income flatlining and land sales declining.

The public debt-to-GDP ratio is about the same as Britain’s. The budget deficit was 9pc of GDP last year, and could widen further. By 2030 this would be entering crisis-level territory.

Meanwhile, the public and private lending that washes through the Chinese economy, putting China “in a league of its own”, according to Capital Economics, is “a signal that all is not well”.

Rhodium’s warning is even more stark: “The era of fiscal trade-offs has already arrived, and the stress is deepening . . . This is what fiscal and financial decay looks like.”

Searching for a prop

Beijing hopes that AI and robots will defuse these time-bombs. Tech-fuelled productivity growth could prop up the economy if China’s population is falling and the world is turning away from its export wares.

China has one big advantage. In a command-and-control economy, the Communist Party can get businesses to adopt AI, and can build out the infrastructure to support it.

The Chinese also seem to be taking to it very quickly, to a greater extent than the average consumer in the US or in Europe. AI is being directly embedded into the commercial stacks that people use on a daily basis, the e-commerce or content platforms that the Chinese use.

The government is also on board. Technology isn’t just an economic panacea; it’s a must-have in Beijing’s relentless quest for self-reliance.

Just days ago, Ding Xuexiang, the vice-premier, said: “China’s AI must take the path of independent innovation, to have the confidence to withstand any containment or suppression”.

And yet, the Communist Party may also be its own worst enemy. Beijing’s refusal to rely on America for chips – instead pushing companies to use domestic Huawei alternatives – is holding back development.

Officials will also be fretting that AI might destroy more jobs than it creates – an outcome the regime wouldn’t be able to stomach.

What you might see is a lot of companies adopting AI, seeing productivity improve, but then not being able to follow through with the kind of lay offs that would result from that in most other economies. And, then, you don’t actually see a boost to labour productivity.

Beijing also has a broader insecurity about technology: it must rely for innovation on the private sector, which the leadership simply doesn’t trust.

The feeling is mutual. Xi’s 2020 attack on Jack Ma, founder of the fintech firm Ant, left lasting scars on China’s entrepreneurial class.

Such fears have been renewed with Beijing kyboshed Facebook owner Meta’s proposed merger with Singapore-based AI firm Manus. Manus’s Chinese founders had moved the company to Singapore, but not beyond the reach of the Communist regime. Some say that if you’re a private entrepreneur in China, what incentives do you have in trying to go global, if this can always happen, and the Party can just come in and say, ‘All of your work, it’s ours now’?

Other analysts are of the opinion that the Xi regime’s innate fear of losing control will be its undoing, and hobble its tech push. The signature feature of Xi Jinping and his administration is how conservative it is. It is not a radical, progressive, transformative regime. In the back of their mind, they’re always thinking, ‘We can’t change too fast’.

China has built a robot that can win a marathon. The question, though, is whether it can build an economic model that can keep the country competitive.

Trump’s war in Iran, if it lasts well into the year, may force out an answer.

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History, Military, Politics, Second World War

Chamberlain had courage. Does Starmer?

POLITICAL HISTORY

Intro: Trump’s comparison between the pair misses the point. Despite what the critics say, whilst Chamberlain did make some grave errors he did have courage. What will Starmer’s legacy leave on the pages of history?  

Just a few days ago Donald Trump delighted in comparing our Prime Minister, Sir Keir Starmer, to Neville Chamberlain. Winston Churchill’s predecessor is blamed for the failed policy of trying to appease Hitler rather than confront German expansionism across Europe in the years before the Second World War.

Chamberlain is the most vilified of British prime ministers, “the guilty man” who, it is argued, failed to deter Hitler and left us almost defenceless when he resigned in May 1940.

Had Donald Trump studied history a little more carefully, he would not have made the comparison, however. Far from failing in his duties, Chamberlain was the author of the rearmament policy from the mid-1930s that made it possible for Britain to stand firm in 1940.

To compare our current prime minister to him does a grave disservice to Chamberlain, while some might say it greatly inflates Starmer’s political courage and grasp of strategy, neither of which is in evidence in his policies or speeches. Despite frequent public denigration today, Chamberlain’s reputation among historians is higher than might be expected.

As Chancellor from 1931-1937, and then as Prime Minister, he stuck to a double strategy: try to ease tensions with Germany through diplomacy, while at the same time rearming. Rearmament would not only prepare Britain for any future conflict, but would also deter German aggression by showing that we had the means and commitment to fight.

No one looking at Britain today, with its naval ships and fleet under constant repair, its tanks numbering at only a few dozen, and its Army unable to field anything larger than a brigade – about 5,000 men – for about a month of fighting, would be deterred by the readiness of our Armed Forces.

Chamberlain was the principal author of defence plans from 1936 that committed £1.5bn – then a vast sum – over five years to rearmament. He recognised that Britain’s defence would depend on airpower and set a target of nearly 2,000 front-line planes for the RAF. Were it not for this far-sightedness we would not have had the Spitfire and Hurricane and would likely have been invaded in 1940. New warships were commissioned for the Navy; older ships were modernised.

After Hitler’s invasion of the Czech provinces of Moravia and Bohemia in March 1939, this programme was rapidly accelerated. The Ministry of Supply was established to oversee the production of military equipment, and peacetime conscription began. The Territorial Army was doubled in size. Just as war began in September 1939, the famous chain of radar stations around Britain’s coastline became operational.

Revealingly, Chamberlain had been attacked during the 1935 election campaign by the deputy leader of the Labour Party, Arthur Greenwood, for the “disgraceful” suggestion “that more millions of money needed to be spent on armaments”.

Chamberlain understood something else about war readiness: the need for strong finances. Any war would likely be a long one, and a strong economy with reserves to spend would play a vital part in any struggle. He planned for what is now called headroom, fiscal surpluses that could be used in time of national emergency. In 1937, he put up income tax to 5s in the pound.

Today, our peacetime taxes are at the highest levels since the end of the Second World War and yet we have no headroom at all. Everything points to cuts in expenditure, above all to pay for a ballooning welfare bill. Starmer, though, does not have the courage or political capital to tell his backbenchers, as the former Labour prime minister, Jim Callaghan, told the Labour Party conference during the 1976 International Monetary Fund (IMF) crisis, “the party’s over”: the spending on benefits has to stop.

Chamberlain is rightly blamed and held accountable for giving Germany the Sudetenland, then part of Czechoslovakia, at the 1938 Munich Conference, and for taking Hitler at his word by believing his protestations of peace. These were crucial failures of judgment. Then, when war came and Britain’s position looked increasingly hopeless, Chamberlain lacked the resolve to fight.

It was in this context, in May 1940, that the Conservative MP Leo Amery, speaking in the House of Commons, and using words attributed to Oliver Cromwell, demanded of Chamberlain: “In the name of God, go!”. If the upcoming local elections in May don’t finish off Starmer, it is quite likely that someone will say these words to our current prime minister.

For military campaigners and those on the political right will surely argue it would be excellent if Starmer could behave with Churchillian resilience and bravery by living up to our responsibilities to NATO and the free world. Failing that, it would be enough if he could follow Chamberlain’s example and at least lay a basis for having a stronger military and economy that we now require.

If Starmer really did behave like Chamberlain he would leave a better legacy, and also do something that would save his future reputation among historians. Time is short and running out for Starmer politically, but he still has time to act.

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Britain, Defence, Europe, Military, NATO, United States

Without the US, can NATO survive?

NATO ALLIANCE

Intro: If Trump follows through on his threat to pull out of the alliance, the West will face its most profound crisis in 80 years

For eight decades, NATO has weathered internal disputes, enemy plots, and shooting wars in Bosnia, Kosovo and Afghanistan. America’s departure of this historic alliance would be the biggest divorce in history.

If Donald Trump acts on his threat to finally pull the US out of NATO – having said publicly that he is “strongly considering pulling out” after allies failed to join his war on Iran – the transatlantic family will be torn asunder.

At which point, the club that calls itself the most successful alliance in history may as well close its doors.

And the pain could match that of the most acrimonious of break-ups.

The numbers are stark enough: the United States alone accounts for more than 60 per cent of NATO’s total defence spending and provides the bulk of the alliance’s firepower, particularly at sea, in the air, and in nuclear deterrence.

The US has 1.3 million active military personnel – a full million more than Turkey, the next largest NATO force.

The United States is, however, not simply the largest and richest member of the club. It is the linchpin, the tent pole around which the entire edifice has been constructed.

It has logistical capacities in airlift and shipping, as well as satellite and signals intelligence, that other NATO allies rely on to get them into battle and help them fight. And it has always provided the leadership that has kept the alliance together.

Europe

The most profound threat would be for European members, the primary beneficiaries of the Article 5 promise that “an armed attack against one or more of them in Europe or North America shall be considered an attack against them all”.

For the first time in 80 years, they would have to face Russia shorn of that basic security guarantee, even as war rages on the continent.

Trump allows other NATO countries to requisition US kit for Ukraine via a programme called The Prioritised Ukraine Requirements List, but has curtailed direct US military aid to Kyiv.

Nonetheless, Moscow has not doubted the seriousness of the NATO alliance. For four years, it has avoided risking a direct confrontation with NATO powers, to the point of refusing (for the most part) to bomb the airbases and railway depots in Poland that supply Ukraine.

But remove American conventional and nuclear power from the equation, and the risks of doing so suddenly look much more palatable. Vladimir Putin has long made the destruction of NATO and creation what he calls a “new European security architecture” one of his dearest and cherished ambitions.  

That does not make a direct Russian attack on Europe inevitable, should the US abandon the alliance. But the chances of Putin taking a gamble would increase substantially.

Greenland and Canada

Quitting the alliance would not only absolve Trump of the obligation to come to allies’ defence. It also opens the way – at least in theory – to one would-be former ally attacking another, a scenario NATO itself would never have been able to survive.

Canada, in particular, would face difficult new realities. Trump, who has ordered attacks across 13 countries since he returned to the White House, has coveted their country (a NATO founding member) as a future “51st state”. Suddenly uncoupled from its enormous neighbour and security partner, Ottawa would no longer live with the certainty that North America is a safe and secure home.

War is perhaps most likely in Greenland. In recent weeks, it emerged that the Danish military had secretly prepared to repel a possible American assault on the island amid repeated threats from Trump to annex it.

Troops were equipped and ordered to blow up key runways and even flew in blood bags to simulate treating the wounded from the anticipated battle.

These nightmarish prospects present serious dilemmas for Canada and Denmark’s remaining allies.

Would Britain, France, and Germany send troops and ships to fight off an American invasion? Or out of dependence on and fear of American might, would they turn their backs? Leaders in Britain will be praying that they never have to make such a choice.

Everything from Britain’s nuclear missiles, which must be serviced at American facilities, to GCHQ’s signals intelligence network, which overlaps with the US National Security Agency, is enmeshed in the apparatus of the US security system.

America

Like any major break up, the pain would not be one way. America, too, would suffer.

Since its founding, NATO has allowed the US to project power globally. US airbases in Britian and Germany, for example, are currently being used for American operations against Iran.

NATO states also house and accommodate American early warning systems. It is the UK and Norway, for example, whom the United States relies on to keep an eye on Russia’s nuclear missile submarines operating out of Kola Peninsula and the Barents Sea. And while some NATO members – France, Spain, and Italy – may have baulked at the war with Iran, the alliance has proved vital in other US-led engagements.

Its member states joined the Americans in ending the Serbian genocide in Kosovo in 1999, for example, and in the 20-year campaign in Afghanistan. Many also showed up for both the first and second Gulf Wars.

If the United States does find itself embroiled in the much feared and potentially epochal war with China in the Pacific, such former allies will be missed.

The consequences

For these reasons, and the fact that Trump cannot withdraw from NATO without approval of a two-thirds Senate majority or an act of Congress, it is possible the worst fears about transatlantic relations may not come to pass. Indeed, even in a future without the formal North Atlantic alliance, American will need allies and to maintain bilateral ties.

And since Trump’s public doubts about NATO and his threats against Greenland have already undermined the deterrent power of Article 5, perhaps losing it altogether would not do much more damage.

Conventional defence spending in Europe is already rapidly increasing, especially in the east and north of the continent. No sensible Russian general is likely to believe a fight with Poland would be a walk in the park.

Although small compared with America’s, Britain’s nuclear arsenal, which, unlike the French one, is committed to the defence of NATO, is potent enough to act as a serious deterrent. The UK would, however, have to develop a domestic delivery system if it is to eventually wean itself off dependence on US Trident missiles.

There is also the suggestion that the alliance could continue in some form, even shorn of the US. Trump’s repeated attacks on the alliance have already prompted some British and European strategists to think about how to preserve it without America.

The remaining allies could, for example, retain the North Atlantic Council, NATO’s main decision-making body, and the mutual defence clause.

Perhaps, then, there is a very narrow but plausible path to enduring a divorce and not suffering too greatly.

But should Trump or another incumbent president come to see Canada and Europe as enemies, the world will change profoundly.

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