Finn McRedmond: Easier to outline America’s myriad faults than engage with its triumphs

In the earliest days of the pandemic, the media rushed to rank and categorise the efficacy of every nation’s response. In hindsight this was naively premature, and resulted in some huge errors of judgment. Nevertheless, one powerful consensus emerged: the United States was among the countries most grievously failing its people. British magazine UnHerd was not unique when it declared the US, as early as June 2020, to be “a failed state.” And so, western Europe leapt on this period as proof of a long-standing suspicion: something is rotten in America’s soul.

Neither coronavirus, the election of Donald Trump, nor the January 6th Capitol riots were the source of this antagonism to 21st-century America, though they provided expedient justification for an otherwise ill-defined, impressionistic prejudice. This broad-stroke anti-Americanism is typified by disdain for the national character (they are brash and lack taste), the contours of its politics (they are susceptible, perhaps even prone, to fits of populism) and its cultural output (bland Hollywood is responsible for artistic atrophy).

This sneering at the United States – particularly potent in Britain but evident in Ireland and much of Europe too – is a modern phenomenon. Twentieth-century America was beloved and feared – celebrated as a bastion of democracy; a national experiment that sought to link its people not by ancient heritage but by civic belonging; a country far from flawless but still a lodestar for old Europe to aspire to. In fact, as Janan Ganesh pointed out in the Financial Times, plenty of countries have heeded the American example: boasting large migrant and naturalised migrant populations, with market economies and no-longer-relevant aristocracies. In short, Europe owes a lot to its weirdest ally.

Trump severely eroded this reputation, but the rest of the West had been sceptical for some time. A Pew Research Centre Global Attitudes Project poll found “favourable opinions” of America between 2000 and 2006 to have fallen from 83 per cent to 56 per cent in the United Kingdom; from 62 per cent to 39 per cent in France; and most precipitously, from 78 per cent to 37 per cent in Germany. The Iraq War had caused an obvious, and predictable, dent in international goodwill. By 2017, a survey of 19 countries conducted by the BBC World Service revealed 14 had a negative impression of the United States. Anecdotally, friends who are otherwise tolerant and open absent-mindedly suggest Americans are too sincere, lacking in culture, unrefined, unfunny.

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Snobbery and poshness

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It feels cynical. Of course the US has had a troubled five years. Like everywhere, the pandemic revealed fissures in its social tapestry. January 6th was evident of a country divided and unhappy with itself. But we speak of it as though Europe is not currently locked in a serious right-wing resurgence – with Italy, Finland and Greece lurching that way; The Alternative for Germany (AfD) party, carefully watched for suspected far-right extremism, is outpolling chancellor Olaf Scholz’s Social Democrats. We have forgotten that Ireland itself is currently falling for Sinn Féin’s own brand of left-wing populism, while anti-migrant protesters on occasion fill the streets.

Nevertheless, the idea of America’s uniquely corrupted heart persists. And the self-flagellating response from establishment American media seems to indicate it gets a kick out of all the sniping from across the pond. “The World Is Taking Pity on Us”, “How the Government is Failing Americans Uprooted by Calamity”, “The Unique US Failure to Control the Virus” read three headlines in the New York Times. “We are living in a failed state” the Atlantic chastises.

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It seems a much easier project to enumerate a nation’s myriad faults than sincerely engage with any of its triumphs. In fact, anti-Americanism has become a justified cultural snobbery, a means to indicate elevated taste, intelligence and highbrow proclivities. In reality, this is boring cynicism masquerading as insight.

Instead we can remind ourselves of several things: that America is responsible for most of the film, music and television we consume – if not directly, via their huge influence on the shape of our own artistic production; that Americans are comedic trailblazers no matter how fashionable it is to suggest they aren’t funny; that the American dream – no matter its patchy execution – remains one of the most powerful ideas of the 20th century; that America is home to serious and world-changing innovation – there is no real European equivalent to the behemoths of Amazon and SpaceX and Google; that it boasts a throng of elite research and education facilities; that the Biden administration has directed more than $75 billion in assistance to Ukraine.

In fact, the Biden administration has also been particularly kind to Ireland – wielding its considerable heft to ensure fair treatment of Northern Ireland through the course of Brexit.

The United States has its share of problems. As the election unfolds next year we will hear about them, ceaselessly. But the Americans still possess an admirable capacity for earnestness and optimism. It’s a tonic to a bitter world.