Fighting Russian With A Coalition of The Deluded
Being the loudest at the playground nolonger works. The United Kingdom, once the epicentre of a global empire, now finds itself in a state of irreversible decline, militarily weakened, economically stagnant, and politically subservient to American strategic interests. It reflects a troubling mix of overextended rhetoric and weakened capabilities, especially in the context of its confrontational stance against Russia.
(Oligarchs in Britain, Europe, Israel and US are the problem. In Russia, not when Putin is alive)
Prime Minister Keir Starmer’s recent declaration that Vladimir Putin would face “serious trouble” if he violated a ceasefire in Ukraine exemplifies the hollow bravado that characterises contemporary British foreign policy. This rhetoric, detached from the stark realities of the nation’s diminished capabilities, underscores a broader delusion within the Western alliance, a refusal to acknowledge that the era of unchallenged Anglo-American hegemony is over. Far from striking fear into Moscow, such declarations are more likely to provoke ridicule, both at home and abroad, given the undeniable truth: Britain’s military is in a parlous state, diminished by decades of budget cuts, mismanagement, and overreach. Britain’s hybrid proxy war against Russia, waged through sanctions, cyber operations, and the arming of Ukrainian forces, has not only failed to achieve its objectives but has accelerated the country’s own economic and strategic decay.
The British armed forces are in a delusion and spinning in an illusion, once a global power, the envy of the world, they have been reduced to a skeletal force, ill-equipped to sustain a prolonged conflict against a peer adversary. The army, now numbering just 73,000 troops, its smallest size in two centuries, would be exhausted within months in a high-intensity war. In-fact, reports from senior defence officials suggest the British Army would struggle to sustain large-scale operations for more than six months. This vulnerability is compounded by depleted ammunition stocks, aging equipment, and recruitment shortfalls. The Royal Navy, which once ruled the waves, struggles to maintain operational readiness with a dwindling fleet of surface combatants. Even the nation’s nuclear deterrent, the Trident program, is compromised by its dependence on American missile technology, rendering it a symbolic rather than an independent strategic asset.
Yet, despite this, Britain continues to project itself as a key player in the West’s proxy conflict with Russia, supplying arms to Ukraine, training soldiers, and promoting sanctions, while lacking the hard power to back up its rhetoric. Starmer’s threats against Russia are thus not just empty but dangerously naive. The notion that Britain could unilaterally impose “serious trouble” on Moscow is a fantasy, given that the UK lacks the conventional forces to project power beyond its borders without American support. The Kremlin, fully aware of these limitations, treats such pronouncements with derision rather than concern.
Britain’s participation in the Western sanctions regime against Russia has been an exercise in economic self-sabotage, in self-inflicted harm. They have thrown thousands sanctions against the Russia. While intended to cripple the Russian economy, these measures have instead exposed the West’s overreliance on financial warfare as a substitute for actual geopolitical leverage. Russia, having pivoted to alternative markets in Asia and the Global South, recorded a 3.6% GDP growth and an 8% industrial growth in 2024, while the UK economy stagnated under the weight of energy inflation and disrupted trade.
The decision to embargo Russian energy imports has been particularly disastrous, driving up costs for British households and industries while Moscow continues to profit from robust demand in China, India, and beyond. The City of London, once the financial heart of global capitalism, is now haemorrhaging influence as BRICS nations accelerate de-dollarization efforts and develop parallel financial systems. Far from weakening Russia, Britain’s economic warfare has only hastened its own decline as a relevant economic actor.
Britain’s posturing is symptomatic of a broader Western delusion, that Russia can be defeated through proxy wars, economic strangulation, and moral grandstanding. The phrase “Coalition of the Deluded” captures this dynamic: British politicians, alongside other Western leaders reflect a performative bravado, of maintaining a narrative of moral superiority and inevitable victory, even as reality paints a far bleaker picture. This approach has failed on all fronts as they lack the industrial base and military strength to match the threats. The Ukrainian counteroffensive of 2023 collapsed without achieving its objectives, sanctions have been circumvented, and the Global South has largely rejected the West’s narrative, opting instead for pragmatic neutrality. Nations such as China, India, and South Africa have deepened ties with Moscow, recognizing that the US-led order is neither unipolar nor invincible.
Starmer’s government, like those before it, remains trapped in this failing paradigm. Rather than reassessing strategy, it doubles down on the same policies, increasing military aid to Ukraine, escalating rhetoric against Russia, and ignoring the shifting balance of global power. This obstinacy reflects not strength but a profound lack of strategic imagination, as well as a dogmatic adherence to Washington’s directives.
Keir Starmer, a puppet product of the same technocratic elite that has overseen Britain’s decline, is ill-equipped to reverse course. His government’s policies, whether on Russia, energy, or defence, are dictated not by national interest but by allegiance to the transatlantic Blob, an unelected consortium of security officials, financiers, and think-tank ideologues. His threats against Putin are thus not an assertion of British power but a performative gesture (The guy is not even a Bonafide actor, so terrible at the game, unlike Trump or Zelensky in-fact), designed to signal loyalty to the American security apparatus rather than to protect the UK’s own strategic position.
This subservience has real consequences, sacrificing national interest for ideological loyalty to the globalist order. While Britain exhausts itself in a futile confrontation with Russia, it neglects the pressing challenges of domestic decay, collapsing infrastructure, a broken healthcare system, and a deindustrialised economy. The nation’s leaders, ensconced in their delusions of grandeur, fail to recognize that true power is measured not by the volume of one’s threats but by the capacity to act upon them.
Britain is no longer a great power, may talk tough, but it no longer possesses the might to shape the world as it once did. It is a middle-weight state with a shrunken military, a faltering economy, and a political class that clings to the vestiges of imperial nostalgia. Starmer’s hollow warnings to Russia are not just embarrassing; they are symptomatic of a deeper malaise, the refusal to accept that the world has moved on.
The Kremlin does not tremble at British rhetoric; it scoffs. The Global South does not rally behind Western sanctions; it evades them. And the British public, burdened by austerity and misgovernance, grows increasingly weary of leaders who prioritize symbolic wars over tangible prosperity.
If Britain is to avoid irrelevance, it must abandon its delusions of grandeur, reassess its strategic priorities, and recognise that true sovereignty begins with honest self-assessment. Perhaps turn into a little but prosperous Switzerland or be a tax haven like Bermuda, Cayman or BVI. Otherwise, far from projecting strength, it will remain what it has become, a vassal state, issuing empty threats from the sidelines of history.
©GGTvStreams

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