Last week, Foreign Secretary David Lammy and Culture Secretary Lisa Nandy unveiled the UK Soft Power Council, a new initiative aimed at strengthening the country's global influence through cultural and creative industries, sports, education, and its venerable institutions.
On paper, this sounds like a noble and necessary pursuit—leveraging the UK’s rich heritage to forge stronger alliances and bolster its international standing. But in practice, it seems alarmingly detached from the geopolitical reality of our time.
The world is not merely shifting; it is convulsing under the weight of unprecedented challenges. Donald Trump has returned to the White House, already embarking on a path of provocative and destabilising rhetoric, including outlandish territorial ambitions. Meanwhile, Europe faces its gravest security threat since World War II, as Ukraine’s resistance to Russian aggression teeters under mounting pressure. Should Putin achieve his expansionist aims, the fallout will not be confined to Ukraine but will threaten neighbouring states, including NATO members.
At the same time, the spectre of conflict looms large in South East Asia, with China’s designs on Taiwan posing a grave risk to global stability. Xi Jinping, emboldened by an apparently disinterested Trump administration, may see this as his moment to strike, triggering a catastrophe that could reverberate across global markets and upend the world order.
Amid these harrowing developments, the UK’s decision to prioritise soft power feels woefully inadequate. While soft power remains an important element of any nation’s diplomatic toolkit, it cannot substitute for the hard power necessary to defend national interests in an era of escalating conflict and competition.
The hard truth
The UK's military shortcomings are not new, but the war in Ukraine has thrown them into sharp relief. Despite admirable cross-party support for Ukraine, the broader strategic reality has yet to prompt the level of introspection or reform that current circumstances demand. The conflict has laid bare a fundamental truth: in modern warfare, industrial capacity is as critical as technological sophistication. This is where the UK falters.
Reports indicate that the British armed forces would exhaust their ammunition reserves within ten days of a large-scale conflict. Years of underinvestment, compounded by the “peace dividend” mindset that followed the Cold War, have left the UK ill-prepared to sustain prolonged military engagements. The shift toward just-in-time production and lean inventories, optimised for peacetime efficiency, has rendered the nation incapable of rapidly scaling up arms production in response to emerging threats.
Although the government has pledged to increase defence spending to 2.5 percent of GDP, such commitments are unlikely to resolve the underlying structural issues. Decades of deindustrialisation have hollowed out the UK’s ability to produce essential materials like steel, leaving the country dangerously reliant on global supply chains that could be severed in a crisis. Moreover, the focus of defence spending has often been misaligned, favouring expensive, high-tech projects over the bread-and-butter investments needed to sustain a credible and deployable force.
Some argue that increased defence spending could spur economic growth through “military Keynesianism”—the notion that military expenditure creates jobs and boosts GDP. Proponents point to historical precedents, such as post-war investment in the arms industry, as evidence of its economic benefits. Yet, the empirical record suggests otherwise. Studies have consistently shown that military spending is among the least effective forms of public investment for generating long-term economic growth. Unlike infrastructure or education, defence expenditure rarely produces the kind of broad-based returns that lift an economy as a whole.
Indeed, the opportunity cost of military spending is significant. Diverting resources from the civilian economy to fund defence initiatives often reduces overall quality of life. While investment in military research and development can yield some positive spillovers, the bulk of defence spending—on equipment procurement and personnel training—offers limited benefits beyond its immediate purpose.
The UK’s defence policy over the past three decades has been characterised by a trade-off between quantity and quality. Successive governments have prioritised sophisticated, high-tech capabilities at the expense of scale, resulting in a military that is overstretched and underprepared for sustained conflict. For example, deploying a single armoured brigade would require the UK to commit nearly 80 percent of its total combat engineering capacity, leaving little room for flexibility or resilience. The notion of fielding a fully integrated division capable of prolonged engagement is, at present, little more than a fantasy.
Beyond issues of equipment and capacity, the armed forces face a litany of other challenges, from recruitment and retention to training and housing. These systemic deficiencies further constrain the UK’s ability to project power and defend its interests in a volatile world.
Perhaps the most glaring vulnerability is the UK’s industrial base—or lack thereof. The closure of key facilities, such as steelworks in Port Talbot, has left the country incapable of producing the raw materials necessary for defence production. This dependency on foreign suppliers is a strategic liability, particularly in a global conflict where supply chains are likely to be disrupted.
Rebuilding industrial capacity is not merely a matter of national pride; it is a strategic imperative. A credible defence strategy requires a robust and resilient industrial base capable of producing everything from ammunition and armour to electronics and energy infrastructure. This will necessitate significant investment not only in traditional defence sectors but also in critical industries such as steel, semiconductors, and renewable energy.
Despite these challenges, the UK continues to act as though it can maintain a “full-spectrum” military capability, offering a bit of everything but excelling at little. This approach has left the armed forces stretched thin, unable to field a cohesive and credible force capable of withstanding the rigours of modern warfare. While the UK can make valuable contributions to coalition efforts, its ability to operate independently is increasingly in doubt.
The establishment of the Soft Power Council underscores this disconnect between aspiration and reality. While soft power can play a vital role in shaping global perceptions and building alliances, it is no substitute for the hard power needed to navigate an increasingly dangerous world. The UK’s current trajectory risks leaving it unprepared and vulnerable, relying on goodwill and cultural influence in an era where brute force is making a chilling comeback.
Actions, not words
The geopolitical shifts of the 21st century demand a fundamental recalibration of the United Kingdom's strategic priorities. The post-Cold War era of relative stability, where soft power and international norms were deemed sufficient to safeguard national interests, is rapidly eroding. Instead, a multipolar world order defined by the resurgence of great power competition, economic coercion, and regional instability is emerging. These changes are forcing the UK to confront its vulnerabilities and reassess its position within an increasingly hostile international environment.
The current geopolitical turbulence has often been compared to the late 1930s, when Britain scrambled to rearm in the face of growing threats from Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy, and Imperial Japan. At that time, Britain’s economic recovery from the Great Depression was incomplete, and the scars of the First World War lingered, both economically and socially. Despite these challenges, the National Government initiated a major rearmament programme that, while initially insufficient, eventually allowed Britain to withstand the Axis powers until the industrial might of the United States turned the tide.
Today, the UK faces a similar inflection point. The world is witnessing the re-emergence of militarised competition, particularly in Europe and the Indo-Pacific. The war in Ukraine has demonstrated the enduring relevance of hard power, and the growing tensions in the Taiwan Strait underscore the importance of military readiness. Yet, the UK’s defence capabilities are alarmingly insufficient. Rob Johnson, the former director of the Ministry of Defence’s Office of Net Assessment and Challenge, has starkly warned that the UK armed forces are “operating with a bare minimum” and are unprepared for “conflict of any scale”.
According to Johnson, the UK cannot adequately defend its homeland and would quickly deplete its resources in any significant military engagement. The need for modernisation is acute, encompassing everything from ammunition stockpiles to advanced technologies and infrastructure. However, achieving this will require a substantial increase in defence spending—a controversial proposition given the current fiscal climate.
The UK currently allocates just over 2 percent of GDP to defence, a figure that has steadily declined since the post-war era when defence spending exceeded 7 percent of GDP. In July, Labour committed to increasing defence spending to 2.5 percent of GDP, but this pledge comes with significant caveats. The government insists that any increase must be supported by economic growth, a cautious approach that reflects the broader fiscal constraints it faces.
The Conservatives in opposition, on the other hand, now advocate for a more ambitious target of 3 percent, aligning with the spending levels of Poland and the Baltic states, who would be on the frontline of any expansion of Russian aggression against NATO. This divergence has sparked a heated debate about priorities. While the Conservatives accuse Labour of dovishness, Labour argues that reckless spending without addressing the underlying economic challenges is unsustainable.
The debate is further complicated by external pressures. NATO allies are already discussing raising the alliance’s spending target to 3 percent, with some member states like Poland aiming even higher. Donald Trump has gone a step further, calling for NATO members to spend 5 percent of GDP on defence. While this target is widely viewed as unrealistic, it underscores the growing expectation that European allies must shoulder a larger share of the burden.
The call for higher defence spending comes at a time when the UK is grappling with a severe fiscal crisis. Public finances are under immense strain, with rising welfare costs, an ageing population, and stagnant economic growth. Allocating more resources to defence would necessitate difficult trade-offs, potentially involving tax increases or cuts to other critical areas such as healthcare, education, and social welfare.
One area under scrutiny is the welfare bill, which has ballooned in recent years. According to the House of Lords Economic Affairs Committee, annual spending on health-related benefits has risen by 40 percent in real terms since 2013, reaching £64.7 billion in the last financial year—20 percent more than the UK spends on defence. While reducing welfare spending might free up resources for defence, such measures would likely provoke significant political backlash and undermine Labour’s commitment to improving living standards for all.
The broader question is not just whether the UK can afford to spend more on defence, but whether it can afford not to. Neglecting defence capabilities in the face of escalating threats could leave the UK vulnerable and diminish its global influence. Focusing on “soft power” at a time when the international arena cares increasingly more about “hard power” is naive at best, and fatal at worst.
The UK’s strategic challenges are not limited to defence spending. The government’s handling of the Chagos Islands dispute exemplifies the broader mismanagement of strategic assets. The islands, which host the Diego Garcia military base—a vital joint UK-US facility—are of immense strategic value, particularly in the context of rising tensions in the Indo-Pacific.
Despite this, the Labour government appears determined to cede sovereignty of the Chagos Islands to Mauritius, citing legal and moral obligations. This decision is based on a 2019 advisory opinion from the International Court of Justice, which argued that the UK’s administration of the islands is a vestige of colonialism. While the opinion is non-binding, the government fears that legal challenges could jeopardise the future of the base.
Critics argue that this is a strategic blunder. By conceding to Mauritius, the UK risks undermining its own security and bolstering China’s influence in the Indian Ocean. Mauritius has increasingly warmed to Beijing, raising concerns that the islands could eventually fall under Chinese sway. This would not only weaken the UK’s position in a critical region but also erode the broader strategic framework that underpins Western security.
Moreover, the government’s rationale—that adhering to international law will enhance its moral authority on issues like Ukraine and the South China Sea—is deeply flawed. Drawing false equivalences between the UK’s legal ownership of the Chagos Islands and the aggressive actions of Russia and China undermines the very norms it seeks to uphold. Neither Moscow nor Beijing shows any regard for international law, and the UK’s unilateral adherence to these principles projects weakness rather than strength.
To navigate these challenges, the UK must adopt a more pragmatic and strategic approach:
The government must commit to modernising the armed forces, even if it requires politically difficult decisions. This includes investing in advanced technologies, replenishing ammunition stockpiles, and enhancing cyber capabilities.
While increased defence spending is necessary, it must be accompanied by measures to boost economic growth and address inefficiencies in defence procurement. Labour’s cautious approach—linking spending increases to economic performance—is a sensible starting point but must be paired with bold initiatives to stimulate growth.
The government should reconsider its stance on the Chagos Islands and other strategic assets. Preserving these assets is crucial for maintaining the UK’s global influence and ensuring its security in key regions. If we insist on giving up control of the islands, we must cede control to our American partners, rather than hand them over to an ally of our great power rivals.
The UK must also work closely with NATO allies to ensure a coordinated response to shared threats. This includes pushing back against unrealistic demands while contributing meaningfully to collective defence efforts.
The shifting global order presents profound challenges for the UK, but it also offers an opportunity to redefine its role on the world stage. By addressing its strategic vulnerabilities and embracing a more assertive posture, the UK can navigate this period of upheaval and emerge stronger and more resilient.
