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Correspondent

23 August 2024 at 4:29:04 pm

Britannia Adrift

After years of Conservative infighting, Brexit-induced turmoil and the brief farce of Liz Truss’s premiership, Labour’s landslide victory under Keir Starmer appeared to herald a return to calm government in Britain. Now, less than two years later, Starmer has resigned, becoming the sixth British prime minister in a decade to leave office before completing a full term. The immediate trigger is the return of Andy Burnham to Westminster. His emphatic victory in the Makerfield by-election...

Britannia Adrift

After years of Conservative infighting, Brexit-induced turmoil and the brief farce of Liz Truss’s premiership, Labour’s landslide victory under Keir Starmer appeared to herald a return to calm government in Britain. Now, less than two years later, Starmer has resigned, becoming the sixth British prime minister in a decade to leave office before completing a full term. The immediate trigger is the return of Andy Burnham to Westminster. His emphatic victory in the Makerfield by-election electrified sections of the Labour Party, many of whom view the former Greater Manchester mayor as a more compelling and politically resilient figure than Starmer. Labour’s disappointing performance in local elections had only sharpened those doubts. But Britain faces a larger question. Why has the office of prime minister become so precarious? Starmer’s departure is further evidence that Britain has entered an age of political restlessness in which governments struggle to survive long enough to solve the problems they inherit. For much of the post-war era Britain was governed by two broad churches. While Labour and the Conservatives alternated in power, both accepted the legitimacy of the political system and possessed enough internal discipline to absorb dissent. Governments rose and fell at elections, not through a perpetual leadership crisis. That consensus has steadily frayed. The financial crisis of 2008 shattered faith in economic management. Brexit fractured both major parties and exposed profound divisions within British society. The years since have produced a succession of leaders who promised national renewal but found themselves overwhelmed by structural realities. David Cameron gambled on a referendum and lost. Theresa May tried to reconcile irreconcilable factions and failed. Boris Johnson mastered electoral politics but struggled with government. Liz Truss discovered that markets could be more ruthless than party rivals. Rishi Sunak inherited a depleted administration. Now Starmer joins the procession. The striking feature is that Britain’s instability has survived changes of both party and ideology. The Conservatives were punished for appearing incompetent. Labour is now being punished for appearing ineffective. Part of the problem lies in a political culture increasingly addicted to instant gratification. Governments are expected to deliver quick solutions to problems decades in the making. Starmer won office promising pragmatism and competence. Yet once in government, Labour often appeared less interested in confronting difficult truths than in managing headlines. Faced with pressure from different constituencies, it oscillated between technocratic caution and populist gestures. The result satisfied nobody. Voters seeking change found incrementalism. Voters seeking stability encountered drift. Meanwhile, Britain’s political landscape has fragmented. The Greens have chipped away at Labour’s progressive flank. Nigel Farage’s Reform UK has transformed itself into a potent force among disillusioned voters. The old two-party duopoly looks increasingly fragile. Electoral volatility has become the norm rather than the exception. The real challenge now is not who governs Britain. It is whether anyone can govern it effectively anymore.

The Long Arm of Kyiv

Striking deep into Russia, Ukraine has rewritten the rules of war with its audacious ‘Operation Spiderweb.’

In the early hours of June 1, an allegedly battered Ukraine did something no one in Putin’s Moscow or in Trump’s Washington thought possible. ‘Operation Spiderweb,’ as it was later revealed, saw truck-borne drones piercing over 5,000 km of Russian territory and crippling as much as a third of Russia’s strategic bomber fleet. It was a feat not only of audacity but of unprecedented reach and sophistication. Ukraine has never possessed the airpower to match Russia’s vast aerial arsenal plane-for-plane, but in destroying 41 aircraft across multiple airbases including Tu-95MS bombers and a Beriev A-50U AWACS aircraft, it has wielded a scalpel to the jugular of Russia’s military capability.


And by publicly disclosing how it pulled it off, Kyiv has made clear that the battle for air superiority no longer belongs solely to those who own the skies. As details of the stunning operation emerged, 117 FPV (First-Person View) drones were hidden in decoy shipping trucks and launched remotely within Russian borders, making it a most potent act of psychological warfare in a grinding war which Putin began in 2022.


The result of Spiderweb has been to recast every cargo truck in Russia as a threat vector, every driver a potential saboteur and every highway a launchpad. If Ukraine’s chief aim was to thoroughly disorient Putin, it succeeded in spades.


The effectiveness of the operation, which was planned over 18 months, derives from its strategic insight that Russia’s aerial centre of gravity lies not in its missiles, but in the lumbering aircraft that deliver them. The Tu-95s, descendants of Cold War-era heavy bombers, are the modern-day equivalent of Britain’s Avro Lancasters or America’s B-17 Flying Fortresses. Just 55 are thought to remain. If, as reports say, as many as 32 were damaged or destroyed, then it would mean that Russia’s long-range strike capability has suffered a near-decapitation.


Pro-Ukraine commentators in the West, who have long lauded President Zelenskyy as a latter-day Winston Churchill, were effusive in their praise. Second World War historical analogies flew thick and fast across the social media spectrum, with Ukraine’s audacious drone strike being likened to the British attack on Taranto in 1940, which incapacitated much of Mussolini’s fleet and emboldened Japan to try the same tactic at Pearl Harbor in 1941.


Putin’s discomfiture is being likened to that of another dictator 84 years ago: Joseph Stalin, who had reportedly been caught napping when Nazi leader Adolf Hitler broke the non-aggression pact to launch ‘Operation Barbarossa’ – the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union.


Ukraine’s surprise drone attack is being compared with the German Luftwaffe’s initial success on June 22, 1941 during Barbarossa, when it annihilating over 2,000 Soviet aircraft on the ground, bringing the Wehrmacht two years of uncontested air supremacy. Ukraine’s attack shares these operations’ DNA: the targeting of a vital military asset far from the front lines with the aim of rewriting the strategic map overnight.


But there are caveats. Operation Spiderweb, while bold and effective, is no Pearl Harbour or Barbarossa in scale or consequence as yet. Those strikes opened new theatres of war. Ukraine’s has not, though it might shift the internal calculus in the Kremlin.


Kyiv’s aim was to generate a cascading effect. Just as Israel’s devastating electronic ambush on Hezbollah in September 2024 by using thousands of compromised walkie-talkies and pagers had crippled the group’s leadership in a single night, Ukraine’s drone strike may force Moscow to pull back key aerial assets, reducing their ability to menace Ukrainian cities from afar. Whether this success is fleeting or decisive depends on what comes next from Russia.


Still, the operation’s strategic implications reach far beyond Ukraine’s borders. With NATO’s Strategic Defence Review (SDR) documents leaking to the British press almost simultaneously with the attack, it is hard not to draw comparisons and raise alarms. While Ukraine has demonstrated cutting-edge operational innovation, NATO’s review offers vague promises of future capabilities. One might ask whether NATO airbases, let alone civilian infrastructure, could withstand a similar onslaught, especially from an adversary as determined and resourceful as Ukraine has become.


There is also a broader warning for the West. Ukraine’s combination of tactical drone warfare, guerrilla logistics and psychological misdirection shows how 21st-century military strategy is increasingly post-industrial. This is not about how many tanks you have or how large your defence budget is, but how nimble your thinking is.


Some Western analysts have raised eyebrows at Kyiv’s decision to disclose so much information about the operation. But the logic is clear. In an age of satellite imagery, social media leaks and open-source intelligence, secrecy is temporary. Ukraine has chosen to own the narrative and to weaponize it. By demonstrating what it can do, Kyiv sends a message not only to Moscow but to those Western capitals whose support is fraying. This is not just Ukraine’s war; it is, increasingly, a war for the balance of global deterrence.


In fact, one wouldn’t be surprised if Ukraine took a leaf from India’s playbook during Operation Sindoor. The air campaign waged by Russia in recent months had grown unbearable as long-range missiles and drone swarms had rained down on Ukrainian cities night after night. Operation Spiderweb has, at least temporarily, stemmed the tide. But it also underscores how asymmetric tactics, when correctly targeted, can paralyse a superior force.


And therein lies the most important lesson for NATO, for Washington and for Beijing: the global rules of engagement have changed. It is no longer sufficient to rely on heavy platforms, industrial-scale manufacturing, or the presumed invulnerability of assets stationed deep inside national territory. The battlefield has become everywhere. Your enemy’s drone may already be in your backyard, launched not from a distant front but from the back of a lorry just outside your capital.


Even Russia’s formidable S-400 and S-500 air defence systems, designed to guard against conventional attacks from NATO or the United States, were powerless to detect or intercept low-flying FPV drones piloted remotely with first-person goggles.


The precedent is as much psychological as tactical. If Ukraine, with its limited resources, can paralyse Russia’s air force 5,000km from the front lines, what might a better-resourced adversary achieve elsewhere in the world? What happens when similar tactics are turned against Western infrastructure, command systems, or even civilian targets? Cyberwarfare, misinformation and economic coercion already dominate modern geopolitical confrontation. Now, the age of ultra-long-range drone strikes from within enemy borders has arrived.


Kyiv’s brilliance lies not just in its tactical execution, but in understanding that wars today are fought as much for perception as position. The choice to reveal the operation was a masterclass in information warfare. Ukraine showed the world (and the doubters in the West) that it remains a live player in this war, not merely a recipient of aid or pity. This was strategic theatre, as much a message to Berlin and Washington as to Moscow.


But surprise cannot be repeated. As Taranto, Pearl Harbor and Barbarossa all show, deep strikes work best when they are not isolated blows, but preludes to broader campaigns.


Washington, meanwhile, watches on. Some in the Pentagon admire Ukraine’s ingenuity while others fear escalation. But what is clear now is that the war in Ukraine has evolved far beyond trenches and tanks. It has become a crucible for modern warfare. And while Kyiv fights for survival, it also inadvertently writes the playbook for the next great power conflict. The world should pay attention.

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