Let’s drop our obsession with America and stop importing its problems
BLM protest, London 2020 (Shutterstock)
Is Britain’s obsession with American politics understandable, or is it baffling — even embarrassing? We don’t follow elections in France, or Germany, or Russia via blanket TV news coverage through the night, nor do we argue about those countries’ politicians and parties as if they were our own.
Admittedly, the 2020 election felt particularly significant for the rest of the Western world as well as the United States, even if the intensity of our interest was still excessive. China, which battled coronavirus first, is now experiencing growth, while every other major economy falters. As mainland Europe endures another wave of terrorism, the Continent argues about whether its values are under attack, or whether its societies bring violence on themselves by being insensitive to Islam.
These themes are not reflected in US politics directly, but we saw the contours of similar debates across the Atlantic. Joe Biden’s campaign tried to reflect more traditional class allegiances, but the angry scenes that engulfed America’s streets this summer showed the election would inevitably be a battle between political and cultural tribes that see the world very differently. The final result was much tighter than expected, because Americans were motivated most by that which they opposed.
Whether or not it was fair, many voters associated Biden with the kind of “woke” identity politics espoused by a cohort of people on the Left who favour the Democrats. They didn’t necessarily like Trump’s rudeness and outlandish statements, but they worried more about Black Lives Matter’s demands to “defund” the police. It’s not difficult to draw parallels with Britain, where traditional Labour supporters switched to the Tories in 2019 because they were deeply uncomfortable with Jeremy Corbyn and his platform.
Let’s be honest, though. It’s not the first time that politically engaged people across the UK have obsessed over a US election, as if it were being contested in their own country. We’ve long had a worryingly deferential attitude to America, taking our cues from its culture and fretting excessively over Americans’ attitudes to the UK.
We will see in time what Biden’s presidency brings, but he treated Britain disdainfully during the election campaign. That’s either because he sympathises with Irish nationalism, or because Boris Johnson cultivated a close relationship with Donald Trump, depending upon whom you ask. His attitude toward the UK will likely mellow in office, but the incoming US administration will find British ministers desperate to retain its favour, so there is little incentive for Biden to moderate his tone.
The Foreign Secretary, Dominic Raab, spoke recently about our trans-Atlantic relationship remaining in “great shape”, due to shared economic and cultural interests, irrespective of the final election result. That is all very well, but the Government should be willing to challenge insulting American behaviour, rather than take an obsequious attitude if Biden continues to lecture and patronise Britain on issues like Northern Ireland. Equally, we cannot let a prospective trade deal be used to put our economy in the service of America’s trade and foreign policy objectives.
It is an unhappy paradox that some of the people who were keenest to see the UK assert its independence from the EU also seem happiest to accept US dominance, through our junior role in the so-called “special relationship”. They say that we are America’s “closest ally”, but what does that actually mean? We’ve certainly become embroiled in military action initiated by the US, but when in the recent past have Americans offered the UK similar support during any foreign policy entanglement, never mind war?
The world is changing and, despite its cultural sway, there is no prospect that the anger and divisions disfiguring American society will heal quickly. We’ve already imported the US culture wars, identity politics and a noisy movement protesting about the police shooting black people, even though our officers are mostly unarmed.
Admittedly, there are deep problems in much of the West. We are struggling to preserve our way of life and the fundamentals of liberal democracy, while trying to integrate a surge of immigrants from very different cultural and religious backgrounds. And we’ve chosen to combat coronavirus by putting our economies in a chokehold that we tighten and ease depending upon the disease’s movement through our communities. Meanwhile, China and other Asian countries are returning to growth quickly and vigorously.
If we break step with the US, our problems will certainly not go away. But we’re not helping our society by assuming that American politics can be closely mapped unto our own. It’s risky to make our future and the success of our culture and our economy so dependent upon links to America.
The transatlantic obsession has, at times, been a lot of fun, but the uncertainty and convulsions of the US do not have to be our own. Maybe it’s time to admit that the “special relationship” brings with it diminishing returns. So long, America: we can still be friends, but we’re going our own way.
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