Sent to Die Abroad, Betrayed at Home
Sent abroad for photo-ops, betrayed at home, and hunted through the courts — this is no way to treat Britain’s soldiers.
Imagine you’re a young lad from Crewe or Consett, looking at a career in the forces. You want to serve your country, learn a trade, and maybe stand for something bigger than yourself in a modern world in which everything is so instant and vapid. Then you turn on the news and see Sir Keir Starmer swanning around Paris, grinning like a schoolboy who’s just been patted on the head by Emmanuel Macron.
The “Paris Declaration.” It sounds grand, doesn’t it? Starmer has committed British troops to a “peace force” in Ukraine. “Military hubs” in Donetsk. “Reassurance forces” in Kyiv. He’s found an “iron-cast commitment” to defend a border 1,500 miles away with your life and your tax money. Yet, when it comes to the invasion at Dover, he’s about as firm as a wet paper towel.
Let me be clear, because the usual bad-faith brigade will try to twist this. This is not an argument against Ukraine, nor against our armed forces, nor against young men and women choosing to serve. Quite the opposite. Those who put on the uniform — like my late grandfather before them — are heroes in my eyes. They deserve honour, protection, and a country worthy of their sacrifice.
Nor is it unreasonable for Britain to support allies abroad. A serious country can walk and chew gum. But what Starmer is proposing isn’t solidarity — it’s sanctimony. He has found moral clarity, political will, and unlimited rhetoric for a border 1,500 miles away, while treating Britain’s own border as an embarrassing inconvenience best ignored.
That is the problem. Not Ukraine. Not the Army. Not the young lad from Consett or Crewe thinking about signing up. The problem is a political class that will happily wrap itself in borrowed heroism overseas while abandoning the very people who do the fighting — and the country they come home to.
If you’re thinking of signing up, you have to ask: Why? Why risk your life for a government that treats our own borders like a suggestion, but treats a frozen trench in Eastern Europe like the last stand of civilisation?
