The bright side of a transatlantic rift - FT中文网
登录×
电子邮件/用户名
密码
记住我
请输入邮箱和密码进行绑定操作:
请输入手机号码,通过短信验证(目前仅支持中国大陆地区的手机号):
请您阅读我们的用户注册协议隐私权保护政策,点击下方按钮即视为您接受。
FT商学院

The bright side of a transatlantic rift

Culturally, it’s not the worst thing if Europe and America have less to do with each other

In the US, in common speech, the word “Asian” has tended to mean East or Southeast Asian. In the UK, the same word more often refers to the Indian subcontinent. Look, I don’t decide these things. It has to do with historic patterns of migration: who went where. It is also liable to change. But it shows that America’s exposure to the world’s largest continent is nothing like Britain’s. 

That is the least of the differences. The forebears of a Black Briton probably arrived in the country after 1945, willingly. Those of a Black American might have come centuries ago, forcibly. In America, the settlers’ treatment of people who were already there is recent enough to be a raw topic. As harsh as the Emperor Claudius no doubt was, the displacement of “native” Britons has lost some of its salience over the intervening millennia. 

“Woke”, if that means a focus on group identities, has turned out to be a bad fit in the US. But at least it was dreamt up with the US in mind. What possessed people in Britain to think it made sense in their different (which isn’t to say better) context? Or in Europe’s? I’d toast the apparent demise of this dogma but even the crusade against it in Britain has a US flavour — faintly religious, very online — which will unnerve the public in no time. 

There is but one consolation in what Donald Trump has done of late. Strategically, the transatlantic rift is a disaster. Culturally, it might not be the worst thing if America and Europe have a bit less to do with each other. Their educated elites in particular should start seeing other people. 

Looking back, the relationship was at its healthiest in the cold war, when the political enmeshment was almost airtight but there was much less pretence of sameness

The undue obsession isn’t all one way. How did JD Vance become so exercised about free speech in Britain that he raised it in a televised Oval Office setting? If we fall short of First Amendment standards, that is because we don’t have a First Amendment, because we are a different country. As with Elon Musk’s dabblings in Germany, the conceit here — born of the internet, I think — is that the north Atlantic is a common cultural space.  

Still, the fault lies mostly with Europe. The US is not “culturally imperialist”. It has CNN but no public mission to shape world news, at least not one to match the BBC, France 24, Deutsche Welle and Al Jazeera. It has no Melville Institute to go against those named after Goethe and Cervantes. Its grip on film, academia and postwar painting was never a conscious, top-down project, even if the CIA was more of a cultural actor in the cold war than was known at the time.  

No, it is a European choice to live vicariously through America. (Not just a British one, unless I am misremembering those George Floyd protests in France.) I myself am always setting the continent’s feeble economic growth rate against America’s, as though it were the natural comparator. Given their respective ages and histories, is it? Even if Europe is the Norma Desmond of continents, drunk on the past, how could it not be?  

Looking back, the relationship was at its healthiest in the cold war, when the political enmeshment was almost airtight but there was much less pretence of cultural sameness. A staple of 20th-century Toryism was mild distaste for the US, which often informed a corresponding fancy for the European project. (Jeremy Clarkson, a subtler conservative than his schtick implies, is an echo of that world.) This sentiment crossed over at times into witless anti-Americanism. But it helped to inoculate the continent against laughably out-of-context ideas and practices. As a child in the height of the Atlantic bond, I never heard “upspeak”, that tic by which grown men and women in modern Britain adopt the vocal cadence of 13-year-olds in Pasadena. What we have lived through is the inverse of the cold war: political estrangement alongside deepening cultural mimicry. 

Perhaps the Trump shock will bring a cooling off on all fronts. Last weekend, in a startling speech as Canada’s Liberal leader, Mark Carney cast the US as Other, in its approach to language and the absorption of immigrants and other cultural fundamentals. Whether to regret his belligerence, or wish our prime minister would say the same, it is hard in these times to know.

janan.ganesh@ft.com

Find out about our latest stories first — follow FT Weekend on Instagram and X, and sign up to receive the FT Weekend newsletter every Saturday morning

版权声明:本文版权归FT中文网所有,未经允许任何单位或个人不得转载,复制或以任何其他方式使用本文全部或部分,侵权必究。

北欧国家驳斥特朗普关于中俄舰船出现在格陵兰周边的说法

随着特朗普关于夺取格陵兰的言论日益强硬,他把这些舰船当作论据提出。

伊朗警告美国政府不要干预

内乱构成伊斯兰共和国多年来面临的最大威胁。

特朗普对美国国防工业的攻击令投资者不安

总统要求限制股东回报和薪酬,同时也提出军费开支大幅增长的前景。

文华东方CEO:‘客人就是上帝,这是事实’

这位最近才进入酒店业的高管希望在该国际酒店品牌的扩张中注入对奢华的新诠释。

“强迫式追踪”并不能衡量真正重要的东西

几百年来精妙的度量技艺,如今已让位于动辄吐出一串数字的仪器。

委内瑞拉与黎巴嫩真主党的关联

跨越数千英里,这个黎巴嫩激进组织与被美国孤立的加拉加斯政权建立了非法商业联系。
设置字号×
最小
较小
默认
较大
最大
分享×