The special relationship has a habit of survival — but no assurance of it 

A week after taking office in January 1957, Harold Macmillan addressed Britain following the Suez Crisis. Public resentment toward the Eisenhower administration was palpable; many felt that Britain had been betrayed by its closest ally.

Yet Macmillan recognized that Britain ultimately faced a choice. Would it face a volatile world with the U.S., or without it? As Macmillan observed, “Any partners are bound to have their differences now and then. … We don’t intend to part from the Americans, and we don’t intend to be satellites.”

Today, the so-called special relationship finds itself under strain. After a fairly positive start to the second Trump administration and a successful state visit for the president to Britain, rhetoric from Washington has shifted markedly. The president recently compared Sir Keir Starmer to Neville Chamberlain. Meanwhile, Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth has singled out the “big, bad Royal Navy” for failing to aid American military efforts. 

Disagreements over the direction of the Iran conflict, Washington’s criticism of its allies, threats towards Greenland, and concerns about the legality of U.S. actions have placed the relationship under renewed pressure. The U.K.’s former National Security Adviser, Lord Peter Ricketts, has said that the U.K. should “completely forget” the idea of a special relationship with the U.S.

Nevertheless, the defining feature of the relationship is precisely its tendency to endure recurring crises. Anglo-American relations have rarely been free of tension, and several disputes have posed far greater risks to the partnership than current disagreements. 

The McMahon Act, passed by Congress only months after Winston Churchill popularized the term “special relationship” in his Iron Curtain speech, created........

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