There is substantial evidence supporting many criticisms directed at those leaders. Russia has imprisoned opposition figures, restricted independent journalism and invaded Ukraine in violation of international law. Russian teams were rapidly suspended from international sport following the invasion.
Yet the moral certainty projected by Britain and the EU begins to fracture when their own actions — and those of their allies — are judged by the same standards. The issue is not whether Putin, Xi or Trump deserve criticism. The issue is whether Britain and Europe apply their proclaimed principles consistently. Increasingly, the evidence suggests they do not.
The treatment of journalists Trevor Birney and Barry McCaffrey exposed this contradiction within Britain itself. The two Northern Irish investigative journalists were arrested after producing No Stone Unturned, a documentary examining alleged collusion surrounding the Loughinisland massacre. Their homes and offices were raided by police. An Investigatory Powers Tribunal later ruled that police surveillance of the journalists had been unlawful.
Britain cannot convincingly condemn Russia or China for suppressing dissent while elements of its own state apparatus have targeted journalists investigating alleged state wrongdoing.
That perception of selective enforcement deepened further with the British government’s treatment of Palestine Action. In 2025, Home Secretary Yvette Cooper moved to proscribe the organisation under terrorism legislation, arguing that its activities justified designation as a terrorist group. Critics, including civil-liberties organisations and legal experts, warned that the move blurred the distinction between violent terrorism and political direct action.
In 2026, the UK High Court ruled that the proscription of Palestine Action had been unlawful and disproportionate, concluding that the government had failed to apply legal standards consistently and that the ban represented a serious interference with freedom of speech and assembly.
For critics, the ruling reinforced the perception that Britain increasingly applies the language of extremism and counterterrorism selectively and politically. Governments that condemn authoritarian states for suppressing dissent were themselves attempting to criminalise support for a domestic protest movement opposing British arms sales and Israeli military actions in Gaza. The contradiction was difficult to ignore. Britain condemned Russia and China for restricting political expression yet attempted to use some of the most severe powers available under British law against activists challenging Britain’s strategic relationship with Israel.
Britain’s moral authority is weakened further by its long resistance to accountability for historic abuses in Kenya and Northern Ireland. In Kenya, the British government spent decades resisting compensation claims relating to torture and abuse during the Mau Mau uprising before eventually settling with victims after previously undisclosed colonial files emerged.
In Northern Ireland, investigations and court rulings repeatedly identified evidence of collusion between loyalist paramilitaries and British security forces alongside obstruction and investigative failures. Critics argue that the British state continues to prioritise institutional protection over accountability. That criticism intensified with the Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Act 2023, which sought to restrict prosecutions and inquests linked to Troubles-era killings while offering conditional immunity to participants in the conflict. Parts of the legislation were later ruled incompatible with human-rights law.
The same selective morality is evident in Britain and Europe’s relationship with Saudi Arabia and Mohammed bin Salman. A declassified United States intelligence assessment concluded that the Crown Prince approved an operation to capture or kill journalist Jamal Khashoggi in 2018.
Yet despite the global outrage surrounding Khashoggi’s murder, Britain and many European governments continued arms sales, defence cooperation and strategic partnerships with Saudi Arabia. The same governments that speak passionately about press freedom and human rights when condemning Russia or China adopted a far more restrained tone when dealing with an allied state central to Western security and economic interests. Critics argue that this demonstrated that geopolitical alliances and arms contracts outweighed proclaimed moral principles.
The same selective morality is evident in Britain and Europe’s relationship with Benjamin Netanyahu and the Israeli government. Western leaders routinely condemn aggressive nationalism, inflammatory rhetoric and collective punishment when associated with rival powers, yet many continue to support Netanyahu’s government despite repeated warnings from human-rights organisations, UN experts and international courts regarding Israeli conduct in Gaza and the West Bank.
Members of Netanyahu’s cabinet have used extreme language about Palestinians that would provoke outrage if spoken by officials from Russia, Iran or China. Israeli Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich stated in 2023 that the Palestinian town of Huwara should be “wiped out.” National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir has repeatedly advocated hardline measures against Palestinians and was previously convicted in Israel for incitement to racism and support for a terrorist organisation.
Meanwhile, violence and displacement in the West Bank have intensified. The United Nations and major human-rights organisations have documented repeated killings of Palestinians, settler violence, expansion of settlements considered illegal under international law, and the demolition or seizure of Palestinian homes and land.
Critics argue that if another state engaged in comparable settlement expansion, population displacement and demographic engineering, Britain and the EU would likely describe it as annexation, ethnic persecution or even ethnic cleansing. When Myanmar carried out military operations against the Rohingya people involving village destruction, forced displacement and mass expulsions, Western governments condemned the actions as ethnic cleansing and imposed sanctions. When China was accused of mass detention, cultural repression and coercive assimilation policies against the Uyghurs, Britain, the EU and the United States described the actions as crimes against humanity, with some governments and legislatures referring to genocide.
Similar moral language was used regarding the violence in East Timor following the Indonesian occupation and the destruction carried out by pro-Indonesian militias after the 1999 independence referendum. Western governments condemned the killings, displacement and devastation, eventually supporting international intervention and accountability measures. Yet critics note that Britain and other Western states maintained diplomatic and military relations with Indonesia for years during the occupation, including periods of arms exports and defence cooperation despite longstanding allegations of abuses in East Timor.
Likewise, during the final stages of the Sri Lankan civil war in 2009, the large-scale killing of Tamil people civilians prompted allegations of war crimes and crimes against humanity from the United Nations and human-rights organisations, leading Britain and European states to demand investigations and accountability from Sri Lanka. However, critics argue that Western governments largely maintained normal diplomatic relations with Sri Lanka after the war and that international pressure never approached the scale of sanctions and isolation imposed on states viewed as strategic adversaries.
Despite this, Britain has maintained diplomatic, military and economic cooperation with Israel. Senior Israeli figures continued to be welcomed in London even amid growing allegations of war crimes in Gaza. Critics pointed particularly to the reception given to Israeli President Isaac Herzog by Downing Street while Gaza was under sustained bombardment and humanitarian catastrophe deepened. Opponents argued that officials associated with policies under international investigation should have faced diplomatic isolation rather than ceremonial welcomes.
The genocide issue must be stated carefully. The International Court of Justice has not issued a final ruling determining that Israel has committed genocide. However, the Court found South Africa’s case plausible enough to impose provisional measures requiring Israel to prevent genocidal acts and improve humanitarian conditions in Gaza. Israel strongly denies genocide allegations and argues that its operations are acts of self-defence following the Hamas attacks of October 7.
Yet despite the severity of the allegations and mounting civilian casualties, the EU refused to suspend its Association Agreement with Israel despite calls from some member states and human-rights groups to review the agreement under its human-rights clauses. Economic and diplomatic ties remained largely intact.
Germany in particular maintained some of the strongest support for Israel throughout the conflict. Chancellor Olaf Scholz repeatedly reaffirmed that Israel’s security formed part of Germany’s “Staatsräson” — a core national responsibility rooted in the legacy of the Holocaust. Critics argue that Germany therefore applies a very different standard to Israel than it applies to Russia in Ukraine.
Britain’s position regarding Israel, Gaza and the broader confrontation involving Iran further illustrates this contradiction. British governments frequently portray themselves as restrained or neutral actors seeking de-escalation in the Middle East, yet Britain remains deeply integrated into American and Israeli military strategy in the region.
Britain allows the United States to operate from British-controlled bases such as RAF Akrotiri in Cyprus and has historically provided logistical and operational support for American military actions in the Middle East. During the 2003 Iraq War — regarded by many legal scholars, diplomats and critics as illegal because of the absence of explicit UN Security Council authorisation — Britain presented itself as acting in defence of international security while simultaneously participating directly in regime-change warfare. The Chilcot Inquiry later heavily criticised the basis upon which Britain entered the Iraq War.
Critics argue that Britain continues the same pattern today regarding Israel and Iran: publicly presenting itself as cautious and balanced while privately enabling military operations through intelligence sharing, arms exports, logistical cooperation and diplomatic cover. Britain has continued approving military export licences to Israel and maintaining close security cooperation even while publicly calling for restraint and humanitarian protection.
This allows Britain to occupy two contradictory positions simultaneously. Domestically and diplomatically, it presents itself as a neutral actor seeking peace. In practice, however, it continues to facilitate and support one side militarily and strategically. Critics argue that neutrality becomes meaningless when one continues supplying intelligence, military components, diplomatic protection and access to strategic bases.
The contrast with Russia is impossible to ignore. Russia was subjected to sweeping sanctions, sporting exclusion, cultural boycotts and near-total diplomatic isolation within weeks of invading Ukraine. Israel, despite ongoing investigations, allegations of war crimes, mounting civilian casualties and immense destruction in Gaza, continues to receive diplomatic protection, military cooperation and preferential trade arrangements from many of the same governments presenting themselves as defenders of a rules-based international order.
When Russia bombs civilian areas, it is described as barbarism, collective punishment and possible war crimes. Western leaders rightly condemn attacks on civilian infrastructure and the deaths of non-combatants in Ukraine. Yet when Israel devastates Gaza, destroys civilian neighbourhoods and causes mass civilian casualties, many of those same leaders retreat into the language of “Israel’s right to defend itself.”
The inconsistency is not confined to Israel. Russia has repeatedly been accused of war crimes and crimes against humanity for attacks on civilian targets in Ukraine. Yet when Ukrainian strikes hit civilian areas inside Russia — including attacks reported on apartment buildings, border towns or civilian infrastructure — Western reaction is often muted, qualified or framed as part of Ukraine’s legitimate military resistance rather than through the same moral and legal language applied to Russia. Critics argue that civilian deaths are either unacceptable in principle or they are not; their moral status should not depend solely upon which side carried out the strike or whether the government responsible is allied with the West.
That selective outrage creates the perception that international law is being applied politically rather than universally. Civilian suffering committed by adversaries is elevated into evidence of barbarism, while similar suffering caused by allies is softened through language, context and strategic justification.
This is the central hypocrisy of modern Western foreign policy. Britain and the EU do not consistently oppose repression, unlawful killings, collective punishment or attacks on civilians as universal principles. Rather, those principles are applied selectively depending upon whether the state committing the act is an ally or an adversary.
When China suppresses dissent, it is authoritarianism. When Britain obstructs investigations into abuses committed by its own forces in Northern Ireland or Kenya, it becomes “reconciliation” or “drawing a line under the past.”
When Putin uses nationalism and militarised rhetoric, he is condemned as dangerous. When members of Netanyahu’s cabinet use dehumanising language about Palestinians while settlements expand across occupied territory, Britain and Europe largely continue diplomatic business as usual.
When adversaries violate international law, sanctions and isolation quickly follow. When allies are accused of comparable violations, strategic interests, military alliances and trade relationships suddenly override moral principle.
None of this absolves Putin, Xi or Trump of criticism. But it does expose the fiction that Britain and the EU occupy a uniquely virtuous moral position. Their foreign policy, like that of every major power, is shaped less by universal principles than by strategic interests, alliances and selective morality.
⏩ Cam Ogie is a Gaelic games enthusiast.
Yet the moral certainty projected by Britain and the EU begins to fracture when their own actions — and those of their allies — are judged by the same standards. The issue is not whether Putin, Xi or Trump deserve criticism. The issue is whether Britain and Europe apply their proclaimed principles consistently. Increasingly, the evidence suggests they do not.
The treatment of journalists Trevor Birney and Barry McCaffrey exposed this contradiction within Britain itself. The two Northern Irish investigative journalists were arrested after producing No Stone Unturned, a documentary examining alleged collusion surrounding the Loughinisland massacre. Their homes and offices were raided by police. An Investigatory Powers Tribunal later ruled that police surveillance of the journalists had been unlawful.
Britain cannot convincingly condemn Russia or China for suppressing dissent while elements of its own state apparatus have targeted journalists investigating alleged state wrongdoing.
That perception of selective enforcement deepened further with the British government’s treatment of Palestine Action. In 2025, Home Secretary Yvette Cooper moved to proscribe the organisation under terrorism legislation, arguing that its activities justified designation as a terrorist group. Critics, including civil-liberties organisations and legal experts, warned that the move blurred the distinction between violent terrorism and political direct action.
In 2026, the UK High Court ruled that the proscription of Palestine Action had been unlawful and disproportionate, concluding that the government had failed to apply legal standards consistently and that the ban represented a serious interference with freedom of speech and assembly.
For critics, the ruling reinforced the perception that Britain increasingly applies the language of extremism and counterterrorism selectively and politically. Governments that condemn authoritarian states for suppressing dissent were themselves attempting to criminalise support for a domestic protest movement opposing British arms sales and Israeli military actions in Gaza. The contradiction was difficult to ignore. Britain condemned Russia and China for restricting political expression yet attempted to use some of the most severe powers available under British law against activists challenging Britain’s strategic relationship with Israel.
Britain’s moral authority is weakened further by its long resistance to accountability for historic abuses in Kenya and Northern Ireland. In Kenya, the British government spent decades resisting compensation claims relating to torture and abuse during the Mau Mau uprising before eventually settling with victims after previously undisclosed colonial files emerged.
In Northern Ireland, investigations and court rulings repeatedly identified evidence of collusion between loyalist paramilitaries and British security forces alongside obstruction and investigative failures. Critics argue that the British state continues to prioritise institutional protection over accountability. That criticism intensified with the Northern Ireland Troubles (Legacy and Reconciliation) Act 2023, which sought to restrict prosecutions and inquests linked to Troubles-era killings while offering conditional immunity to participants in the conflict. Parts of the legislation were later ruled incompatible with human-rights law.
The same selective morality is evident in Britain and Europe’s relationship with Saudi Arabia and Mohammed bin Salman. A declassified United States intelligence assessment concluded that the Crown Prince approved an operation to capture or kill journalist Jamal Khashoggi in 2018.
Yet despite the global outrage surrounding Khashoggi’s murder, Britain and many European governments continued arms sales, defence cooperation and strategic partnerships with Saudi Arabia. The same governments that speak passionately about press freedom and human rights when condemning Russia or China adopted a far more restrained tone when dealing with an allied state central to Western security and economic interests. Critics argue that this demonstrated that geopolitical alliances and arms contracts outweighed proclaimed moral principles.
The same selective morality is evident in Britain and Europe’s relationship with Benjamin Netanyahu and the Israeli government. Western leaders routinely condemn aggressive nationalism, inflammatory rhetoric and collective punishment when associated with rival powers, yet many continue to support Netanyahu’s government despite repeated warnings from human-rights organisations, UN experts and international courts regarding Israeli conduct in Gaza and the West Bank.
Members of Netanyahu’s cabinet have used extreme language about Palestinians that would provoke outrage if spoken by officials from Russia, Iran or China. Israeli Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich stated in 2023 that the Palestinian town of Huwara should be “wiped out.” National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir has repeatedly advocated hardline measures against Palestinians and was previously convicted in Israel for incitement to racism and support for a terrorist organisation.
Meanwhile, violence and displacement in the West Bank have intensified. The United Nations and major human-rights organisations have documented repeated killings of Palestinians, settler violence, expansion of settlements considered illegal under international law, and the demolition or seizure of Palestinian homes and land.
Critics argue that if another state engaged in comparable settlement expansion, population displacement and demographic engineering, Britain and the EU would likely describe it as annexation, ethnic persecution or even ethnic cleansing. When Myanmar carried out military operations against the Rohingya people involving village destruction, forced displacement and mass expulsions, Western governments condemned the actions as ethnic cleansing and imposed sanctions. When China was accused of mass detention, cultural repression and coercive assimilation policies against the Uyghurs, Britain, the EU and the United States described the actions as crimes against humanity, with some governments and legislatures referring to genocide.
Similar moral language was used regarding the violence in East Timor following the Indonesian occupation and the destruction carried out by pro-Indonesian militias after the 1999 independence referendum. Western governments condemned the killings, displacement and devastation, eventually supporting international intervention and accountability measures. Yet critics note that Britain and other Western states maintained diplomatic and military relations with Indonesia for years during the occupation, including periods of arms exports and defence cooperation despite longstanding allegations of abuses in East Timor.
Likewise, during the final stages of the Sri Lankan civil war in 2009, the large-scale killing of Tamil people civilians prompted allegations of war crimes and crimes against humanity from the United Nations and human-rights organisations, leading Britain and European states to demand investigations and accountability from Sri Lanka. However, critics argue that Western governments largely maintained normal diplomatic relations with Sri Lanka after the war and that international pressure never approached the scale of sanctions and isolation imposed on states viewed as strategic adversaries.
Despite this, Britain has maintained diplomatic, military and economic cooperation with Israel. Senior Israeli figures continued to be welcomed in London even amid growing allegations of war crimes in Gaza. Critics pointed particularly to the reception given to Israeli President Isaac Herzog by Downing Street while Gaza was under sustained bombardment and humanitarian catastrophe deepened. Opponents argued that officials associated with policies under international investigation should have faced diplomatic isolation rather than ceremonial welcomes.
The genocide issue must be stated carefully. The International Court of Justice has not issued a final ruling determining that Israel has committed genocide. However, the Court found South Africa’s case plausible enough to impose provisional measures requiring Israel to prevent genocidal acts and improve humanitarian conditions in Gaza. Israel strongly denies genocide allegations and argues that its operations are acts of self-defence following the Hamas attacks of October 7.
Yet despite the severity of the allegations and mounting civilian casualties, the EU refused to suspend its Association Agreement with Israel despite calls from some member states and human-rights groups to review the agreement under its human-rights clauses. Economic and diplomatic ties remained largely intact.
Germany in particular maintained some of the strongest support for Israel throughout the conflict. Chancellor Olaf Scholz repeatedly reaffirmed that Israel’s security formed part of Germany’s “Staatsräson” — a core national responsibility rooted in the legacy of the Holocaust. Critics argue that Germany therefore applies a very different standard to Israel than it applies to Russia in Ukraine.
Britain’s position regarding Israel, Gaza and the broader confrontation involving Iran further illustrates this contradiction. British governments frequently portray themselves as restrained or neutral actors seeking de-escalation in the Middle East, yet Britain remains deeply integrated into American and Israeli military strategy in the region.
Britain allows the United States to operate from British-controlled bases such as RAF Akrotiri in Cyprus and has historically provided logistical and operational support for American military actions in the Middle East. During the 2003 Iraq War — regarded by many legal scholars, diplomats and critics as illegal because of the absence of explicit UN Security Council authorisation — Britain presented itself as acting in defence of international security while simultaneously participating directly in regime-change warfare. The Chilcot Inquiry later heavily criticised the basis upon which Britain entered the Iraq War.
Critics argue that Britain continues the same pattern today regarding Israel and Iran: publicly presenting itself as cautious and balanced while privately enabling military operations through intelligence sharing, arms exports, logistical cooperation and diplomatic cover. Britain has continued approving military export licences to Israel and maintaining close security cooperation even while publicly calling for restraint and humanitarian protection.
This allows Britain to occupy two contradictory positions simultaneously. Domestically and diplomatically, it presents itself as a neutral actor seeking peace. In practice, however, it continues to facilitate and support one side militarily and strategically. Critics argue that neutrality becomes meaningless when one continues supplying intelligence, military components, diplomatic protection and access to strategic bases.
The contrast with Russia is impossible to ignore. Russia was subjected to sweeping sanctions, sporting exclusion, cultural boycotts and near-total diplomatic isolation within weeks of invading Ukraine. Israel, despite ongoing investigations, allegations of war crimes, mounting civilian casualties and immense destruction in Gaza, continues to receive diplomatic protection, military cooperation and preferential trade arrangements from many of the same governments presenting themselves as defenders of a rules-based international order.
When Russia bombs civilian areas, it is described as barbarism, collective punishment and possible war crimes. Western leaders rightly condemn attacks on civilian infrastructure and the deaths of non-combatants in Ukraine. Yet when Israel devastates Gaza, destroys civilian neighbourhoods and causes mass civilian casualties, many of those same leaders retreat into the language of “Israel’s right to defend itself.”
The inconsistency is not confined to Israel. Russia has repeatedly been accused of war crimes and crimes against humanity for attacks on civilian targets in Ukraine. Yet when Ukrainian strikes hit civilian areas inside Russia — including attacks reported on apartment buildings, border towns or civilian infrastructure — Western reaction is often muted, qualified or framed as part of Ukraine’s legitimate military resistance rather than through the same moral and legal language applied to Russia. Critics argue that civilian deaths are either unacceptable in principle or they are not; their moral status should not depend solely upon which side carried out the strike or whether the government responsible is allied with the West.
That selective outrage creates the perception that international law is being applied politically rather than universally. Civilian suffering committed by adversaries is elevated into evidence of barbarism, while similar suffering caused by allies is softened through language, context and strategic justification.
This is the central hypocrisy of modern Western foreign policy. Britain and the EU do not consistently oppose repression, unlawful killings, collective punishment or attacks on civilians as universal principles. Rather, those principles are applied selectively depending upon whether the state committing the act is an ally or an adversary.
When China suppresses dissent, it is authoritarianism. When Britain obstructs investigations into abuses committed by its own forces in Northern Ireland or Kenya, it becomes “reconciliation” or “drawing a line under the past.”
When Putin uses nationalism and militarised rhetoric, he is condemned as dangerous. When members of Netanyahu’s cabinet use dehumanising language about Palestinians while settlements expand across occupied territory, Britain and Europe largely continue diplomatic business as usual.
When adversaries violate international law, sanctions and isolation quickly follow. When allies are accused of comparable violations, strategic interests, military alliances and trade relationships suddenly override moral principle.
None of this absolves Putin, Xi or Trump of criticism. But it does expose the fiction that Britain and the EU occupy a uniquely virtuous moral position. Their foreign policy, like that of every major power, is shaped less by universal principles than by strategic interests, alliances and selective morality.
⏩ Cam Ogie is a Gaelic games enthusiast.
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