OPINION – BY TOM SINCLAIR, EDITOR

THE KING is not a politician. He is, however, the Commander-in-Chief of the British Armed Forces. That distinction matters, because it draws a line between everyday diplomacy and something more fundamental: respect for service, sacrifice, and the people this country asks to stand in harm’s way.

On that basis, the scheduled state visit to the United States in April should not go ahead as planned. It should be postponed indefinitely — and the reason should be made clear, quietly but firmly: Britain will not wrap ceremonial honour around rhetoric that demeans those who serve.

That is the crux of it. The issue is not a petty spat, a bruised ego, or an argument about “who said what” on social media. It is the principle of how allies speak about allied forces — and whether the United Kingdom is prepared to smile, toast and wave through remarks that, in the eyes of many serving personnel, veterans, and military families, amount to a straight insult.

You can hear it in the public reaction. People who would rarely write to a King or comment on foreign policy are suddenly saying the same thing in plain language: if the Head of the Armed Forces carries on regardless, it feels like a slap in the face to those who “stood the line” — and to the families of those who did not come home. Some are calling for a postponement “until there is an apology”. Others say: don’t postpone — cancel. Underneath the anger, there is a consistent instinct: dignity matters, and so does loyalty.

Now add the awkward history. Not so long ago, Donald Trump received the full ceremonial treatment in Britain. A banquet. The gold-trimmed theatre of state. All presented as diplomatic necessity, above politics, in the national interest.

Did it work? Did it moderate language, build respect, reduce volatility, improve conduct? If anything, it taught the opposite lesson: that Britain will keep offering prestige even when it gains nothing in return. The Crown’s soft power was put on display, and the recipient treated it like another trophy.

That is why doing it again now would be worse than a mistake. It would be a pattern.

Supporters of the trip will reach for the familiar argument: Britain’s relationship is with the United States, not with one individual. And that is correct. Defence, intelligence, trade and security cooperation are too important to be thrown around as gestures.

But a state visit is not the machinery of government. It is the highest honour we can confer. It is symbolism in its most potent form. It is an embrace.

And there is a difference between continuing diplomacy and offering ceremony.

Britain can and should continue the serious work through ministers, ambassadors, defence chiefs and officials. That work is robust enough to survive a postponement of pageantry. What it cannot survive — at least not without cost — is the impression that the country’s top symbol of service is prepared to overlook contempt directed at service.

There is also a constitutional realism that needs saying out loud. The King does not freelance. He acts on ministerial advice. That means the responsibility for this does not sit with one man in one palace. It sits with the government of the day. If the visit goes ahead, it will not be interpreted internationally as a “neutral royal engagement”. It will be interpreted as a British national choice.

Which raises a simple question: why would Britain choose, voluntarily, to place its Commander-in-Chief into the middle of America’s partisan furnace — where every handshake becomes a headline and every photograph becomes a message?

The monarchy’s strength is that it is not supposed to take sides. Yet the more polarised the environment, the harder neutrality is to maintain. A state visit in April risks being treated as an endorsement by one camp and a provocation by the other. That is not only unfair to the King; it is dangerous for the institution. No head of state should be used as a campaign prop, least of all one whose constitutional role depends on being above the fight.

So what should happen?

The government should advise postponement on grounds that are unarguable and non-partisan: respect for allied forces and the need to keep the Crown out of domestic political controversy abroad. The Palace should keep the language measured: a desire to reschedule at a more appropriate time, in a way that reflects the enduring UK-US relationship and the importance of mutual respect between allies.

And if there is to be a condition for reinstating the visit, it should be simple: a clear, public reaffirmation of respect for NATO service personnel and the sacrifices made by military families. Not a grovelling performance. Not a media circus. Just a statement of basic decency that any ally should be able to make without choking on it.

Some will say Trump never apologises. That may be true. But the point is not to choreograph an apology. The point is to stop granting honours as if they are automatic.

Because Britain has already tried the “butter him up and hope for the best” approach. We’ve seen the banquet. We’ve watched the pageantry. We’ve heard the rhetoric continue.

At some stage, a grown-up country has to decide what it will and won’t dignify.

If the King is the head of our armed forces in name, then he must be the head of our armed forces in meaning too. That means he cannot be asked to raise a glass to a man whose words have demeaned the very people the Crown is meant to honour.

Postpone the state visit. Keep the diplomacy. Protect the institution. And, above all, stand by the men and women who stood for us.

DONALD TRUMP’S claim that Nato allies in Afghanistan “stayed a little back… a little off the front lines” is not merely inaccurate. It is morally careless — and in Wales it lands like an old wound being torn open.

Afghanistan was not an abstract foreign policy debate for this country. It was a roll call of funerals, amputations, trauma and lives reshaped in an instant. The conflict claimed 457 British service personnel, and Welsh regiments were repeatedly deployed into some of the most dangerous ground in Helmand Province, where roadside bombs, ambushes and close-quarter fighting were part of daily routine.

When a leader speaks loosely about who did — and didn’t — stand on the line, they are not scoring points in a spending argument. They are talking about the dead. And in Wales, names are not statistics.

Lance Corporal Christopher Harkett, of 2nd Battalion The Royal Welsh, was killed by an explosion on patrol near Musa Qala in March 2009. Private Richard Hunt, also of 2nd Battalion The Royal Welsh, died from wounds suffered in an explosion while on a vehicle patrol near Musa Qala in August 2009. Their families did not lose sons in a “rear area”.

That is why the political reaction in the UK has been so blunt. Prime Minister Keir Starmer described the remarks as “insulting and frankly appalling” and said an apology would be the minimum standard if he had spoken that way. Across party lines, the criticism has been clear: this was a distortion that dishonours service.

Prince Harry’s response carried weight precisely because it avoided the usual political noise. He didn’t name Trump. He didn’t turn it into a culture war. He simply stated what soldiers and families know: allies answered America’s call after 9/11, friends were made, friends were lost, and those sacrifices “deserve to be spoken about truthfully and with respect”.

The facts are not complicated. Nato’s collective defence clause — Article 5 — was invoked after the attacks of September 11, 2001. Allies joined the mission, fought, and died. The idea that they mostly hovered at the margins collapses under even the most basic measure of coalition sacrifice: casualties, deployments, combat operations and the testimony of those who served alongside each other.

Yes, the United States spends more on defence than any other Nato member. Burden-sharing is a legitimate argument. But spending figures do not give anyone permission to rewrite the history of a war. You can press allies to invest more without pretending they did not fight. And you can debate budgets without casually wounding people who have already paid the highest price.

The damage here goes beyond offence. It is strategic. Alliances are held together by trust — by the belief that when one nation bleeds beside another, that sacrifice will be remembered honestly. When a US president suggests allies would not show up, or implies they did not show up properly last time, he weakens that trust and offers an easy gift to any rival watching for division.

An apology would not be weakness. It would be leadership. It would sound like this: I was wrong. Allied troops fought and died alongside Americans. I honour their service and the families who carry the grief. We can argue about spending without questioning courage.

Because the fallen do not get to reply. Their families in Welsh communities do. Their comrades do. And when the truth is treated as optional, so is the respect that keeps a military covenant intact.

TENBY residents gathered in solemn reflection at the town’s cenotaph this on Sunday (Nov 8) to mark Armistice Day and honour all those who gave their lives in service to their country.

Rain fails to dampen spirits

Despite the drizzle, a large crowd assembled at the war memorial on South Parade as the clock struck 11:00am. The Last Post was sounded, followed by two minutes’ silence observed across the town.

Civic leaders and young representatives

The Mayor of Tenby, town councillors, veterans, members of the Royal British Legion and representatives from youth groups, cadets, emergency services and local schools took part in the wreath-laying ceremony. Among them was a young boy who stepped forward to lay a poppy wreath—symbolising the next generation’s gratitude for those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

A service of unity and respect

As the names engraved on the cenotaph were read aloud, the assembled crowd stood shoulder to shoulder, remembering those from Tenby and beyond who never returned home. Local clergy led prayers, and the service was accompanied by music from the Salvation Army Band.

Following the ceremony, the parade marched through the town walls led by the Royal British Legion standard bearers, with applause from residents lining the streets.

The annual service once again showed Tenby’s deep respect for its history, its veterans and the continuing legacy of remembrance.

Lest we forget.

Photos by Gareth Davies/Herald