Tag: America

  • The rural reality

    I was never a “real” rider. My parents were serious riders. My sister was too – she showed at national level. But by the time I came along, the youngest child by 20 years, no one had the energy for proper lessons, let alone the time it takes to seriously compete. Yet somehow, I’m the one who wound up with the family horse farm in New York’s Hudson Valley.

    My family’s involvement with horses goes back almost 80 years. My dad, a Bronx boy raised on Bonanza and Lone Ranger, grew up riding on summer vacation at a Borscht Belt resort. His love of horses shifted him from Jewish cowboy to showjumper and he eventually took over the equestrian center he learned to ride at. For more than 30 years, he bought, sold, boarded and trained horses in every discipline. He even met my mom when she came upstate to buy a horse; naturally, he ripped her off.

    The Borscht Belt is long dead and the business shifted and drastically downsized in the 2000s. It was a tough move. As a teenager, I remember rushing to unload dozens of horses as the resort abruptly closed, and we relocated to our 15-horse farm seemingly overnight. Business waned, my parents lost steam, and that would have been that for the family farm – if I hadn’t partied my way through college. I graduated with a low GPA and no job options. I did, however, have a little money saved up and some friends in Belgium with a small farm like ours.

    Belgian warmbloods come in a few variations, but all share similar characteristics. Warmbloods are a selectively bred mix between cold- and hot-blooded horses, the former quiet work horses like Clydesdales, the latter spirited breeds like Thoroughbreds. The mix of explosive speed and strength makes them ideal candidates for show jumping at the highest level. And while a green and unpedigreed foal may be quite common in the Belgian countryside, they’re highly sought-after in the US.

    If you think going through customs is a pain in the ass, just imagine what it’s like for a horse. International transport requires significant documentation, veterinary work and mandatory mosquito-free quarantine.

    Covid, of course, shut most of this down. The political world became my new day job and the business went back to its roots as a small, hands-off boarding operation, with some former clients keeping their horses with me full time. It pays the bills.

    More importantly, however, it keeps me rooted in community in a way that most DC transplants don’t understand. Owning any small business keeps one connected to the “real world” – the concerns that politicos discuss, debate and regulate, but often have little connection to or stake in.

    But having a rural horse farm that caters to largely upscale (but not ultra-wealthy) clients puts me in a unique position.

    On the one hand, I’m embedded in working-class America. The “locals” – staff, neighbors and friends upstate – are at the forefront of a new coalition that’s been the backbone of America First for nearly a decade. On the other hand, my clients – often New Yorkers with successful businesses – root me in a world where the bulk of American wealth still lies. It’s not hedge-fund managers or tech overlords who monopolize American social tastes and spending, but those with unglamorous regional businesses.

    For me, it’s easy to flip between the blue-collar worker and the country-home crowd and relate to either. Despite their stark differences, their fates are intrinsically linked.

    When the left complains about “white privilege,” it suggests a dismantling of these two distinct US social groups: a working-class, dependent and rudderless, and the destruction of bourgeois wealth reserves in order to pay for it. It’s not so much about redistributing wealth but punishing those who resist this new cultural order. But without these very independent, very American classes, America itself ceases to be.

    Many in my generation agree with this sentiment but still have no desire to resist it. It’s not just that they don’t want to go to trade school; no matter the industry, they don’t want anything to do with their parents’ businesses. But is a rootless, rent-poor, corporate life in a luxury Manhattan studio really all that much better? It’s pointless to feel that you’re above your childhood circumstances. While I grew up alienated from the family business, I applied the basic knowledge and familiarity of my upbringing with a little effort and did well. I learned as I went and carved my own path. The great thing about America is that you can, too. You can take over your parents’ farm – or local law firm – and make it your own: reimagine it, tailor it and build a life very much different, even better, than your parents’. And that’s the real spirit of life in the country.

    This article was originally published in The Spectator’s December 8, 2025 World edition.

  • Why winter is the best time for a barbecue

    Why winter is the best time for a barbecue

    Summer is usually associated with outdoor cooking which is a perfectly reasonable association. But standing over a hot grill or smoker when the mercury is rising is not the most pleasant of activities. Whatever you are cooking becomes seasoned with droplets of sweat.

    Another oft-overlooked issue, particularly when it comes to smoking meats, is that temperature regulation of the cooking apparatus can be difficult when the ambient heat surrounding it is working in synergy with the heat inside it. While I have a friend who does competition cooking and isn’t a stranger to winning (he pushes his smoker up to 300°F) most of us lack the requisite skill for smoking a pork shoulder or brisket at that heat and pulling out a tender product at the end. Summer is absolutely the wrong time to get out the smoker. Winter is absolutely the right one.

    It is true that the ambient temperature works in the opposite direction in winter, sometimes making it slightly more difficult to bring the smoker up to the desirable temperature of 225°F. But simply add some extra fuel and, voilà, problem solved. There is also very little likelihood of you adding sweat to the seasoning blend.

    When it comes to what you smoke and how you season it, that’s a matter of personal preference. While debates over regional styles are fun, the beauty of smoked meat is its versatility. Season it with just salt and pepper. Season with salt, pepper and garlic. Go for a rub with sugar, cumin, chili powder and various other candidates from the spice cabinet. Use a mustard binder. Try a sriracha one. Don’t use a binder at all. Whatever route you choose, you will find people willing to engage in friendly dialogue about your technique.

    These are great guidelines, but they are not written in stone. The US government tells us to cook our chicken to 165, but more experienced pitmasters know that 175-185 is better for dark cuts as it gives things more time to soften and render into the meat, making it succulent and tender. For shoulders and briskets, 204 degrees or so is the magic number, but what you’re really looking for is probe tender. This is not something that words can describe: it can only be learned from experience. In short, though, it’s not exactly what the screen on the digital thermometer reads, it’s how much resistance you feel while inserting it.

    This result is also much easier to achieve when your smoker and the sun aren’t working in sinister harmony. In cooler weather, the heat from the smoker even gives the chef a bit of warmth during the process – useful when the cooking can stretch on for many hours, especially if you hit “the stall.” For those unfamiliar with the stall, it’s the point at which moisture evaporating from the meat begins to counteract the smoker’s heat, causing the internal temperature to hover stubbornly around 175 degrees. And sometimes it stays there for hours.

    Of course, you can combat this with the Texas Crutch – wrapping your meat in butcher paper or foil when it hits 175 and then getting it up to probe tender. That does sometimes over-moisten the crust that forms, known as the bark. So while the Texas Crutch is not as controversial as spice rubs and binders, using one will create more opportunity to engage in friendly debate with fellow enthusiasts. But the point is that it works. And since it’s your meat, you do you. Just make sure to let the meat rest before serving.

    A final point to make is that when smoking during the summer, you will need a hot shower afterwards to get the smell of the smoke bath off you. A hot shower during the summer just doesn’t hit the way it does when it’s cold outside, baby. Summer is not your friend, not your primetime, not the season in which you can totally shine.

    So my advice is this: do not be afraid to reserve summer for steaks seared in a cast iron pan in the comfort of your air-conditioned kitchen. Save the serious outdoor sessions for a time when you need a coat – and the condensation of your breath in the air matches the gentle whisps wafting from the smoker.

    This article was originally published in The Spectator’s December 8, 2025 World edition.

  • A poultry affair at the White House

    A poultry affair at the White House

    The call sheet for this afternoon’s event at the White House was as imposing as ever:

    WHO:

    The President

    Mrs. Melania Trump, First Lady of the United States

    Gobble, Turkey

    Waddle, Turkey

    Putin at 10, turkeys at 12, home to Mar-a-Lago for Thanksgiving by nightfall. A typical day in the Trump presidency.

    This year’s birds, Gobble and Waddle, hail from Wayne County, North Carolina, and will return to live out their days at North Carolina State University. Luckily they aren’t from Venezuela, else Pete Hegseth would have turned them into a cloud of red vapor and feathers already. Cockburn helped himself to a cup of hot apple cider from the White House staff and settled in at the back of the press area.

    Through a spattering of light rain, President Trump began his remarks in the Rose Garden by pointing out the excellent paving job that had been carried out under his direction. “You’d be sinking into the mud,” he said. Interrupted by the occasional gobble, the President said he was delighted to mark “a pardon day for a very important beast” and praised the “two handsome Thanksgiving turkeys.”

    That’s as apolitical as Trump managed. As he spoke from the podium, alongside the Presidential Wall of Fame with its Biden autopen portrait, he went on to declare, “last year’s turkey pardons are totally invalid” – before repardoning them himself. He noted how well he’d performed in the birds’ county of origin – “I won Wayne County by a lot” – and mentioned other turkey names that he had considered. “I was gonna call them Chuck and Nancy,” Trump suggested, “but then I wouldn’t pardon them.” The President mentioned that RFK Jr. – not in attendance – had declared the birds “the first ever MAHA turkeys,” then treated the audience to a diatribe on urban crime in DC and Chicago. “The governor is a big fat slob,” the President said of J.B. Pritzker. Shortly after, he said, “I don’t talk about people being fat, I refuse to talk about the fact that he’s a big fat slob.” Food for thought ahead of your Thanksgiving discussions on Thursday.

    Spotted in attendance: Vice President J.D. Vance and Usha, with their daughter Mirabel; Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent; FBI Director Kash Patel; Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth; Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick; HUD Secretary Scott Turner; EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin; deputy assistant to the President Dr. Sebastian Gorka, and Jason Miller.


    On our radar

    MTG BRB President Trump laid down the gauntlet to Marjorie Taylor Greene following her resignation announcement. “It’s not going to be easy for her” to revive her career in politics, he said, adding, “I’d love to see that.”

    KELLY CONSPIRACY? The Pentagon has launched an investigation into Senator Mark Kelly following last week’s video in which he urges active-duty military to ignore “illegal” orders. President Trump accused Kelly of “sedition,” which he states is “punishable by DEATH!”

    GET STUFFED Several major airports are experiencing serious delays heading into the Thanksgiving holiday due to inclement weather.


    Candace in the crosshairs?

    After the death of her friend Charlie Kirk, Candace Owens spent the fall warning the public of alleged conspiracies behind his assassination… involving, you guessed it, Israel. Now she is concerned for her own safety. On Sunday night, she shared with her 7 million X followers that she had received “credible” evidence of a plot to kill her. “I even have names,” she wrote. The most important name: Emmanuel Macron. The French first couple has been a subject of Owens’s concern for a while now. The podcaster is being sued for making a documentary branding Brigitte Macron secretly transgender. If President Macron employs French assassins to kill her, in a 21st-century retelling of Luc Besson’s Leon, it would be a mistake. Per “comic” Dave Smith’s post on X, “taking out Candace Owens will turn all of us into Candace Owens.” Perish the thought.

    Subscribe to Cockburn’s Diary on Substack to get it in your inbox on Tuesdays and Fridays.

  • The global cottage industry gaming America’s culture wars

    The global cottage industry gaming America’s culture wars

    It is the 9/11 of the blue ticks, the Hindenburg of the grifters, the dotcom bubble of the slop-peddlers.

    The influencer industry has been left reeling by a new function on X which allows readers to see the location from which any given account is operating. The latest update makes it possible to establish when and where an X account was set up and whether it has changed its name since then.

    A sensible measure, you might think, but not if X is where you make your living and do so by inserting yourself into other countries’ internal politics. There are no firm figures on how many earn a crust this way but even the most cursory glance through the Hellsite Formerly Known as Twitter will tell you the number isn’t insignificant.

    It’s near impossible to scroll down the “For You” stream without spotting an account with US flags in the profile and header pics and a litany of posts, images and especially videos highlighting the worst of US political, cultural and racial divisions. Yet while this is posed as the output of Americans frustrated by one thing or another, it is sometimes – perhaps often – the work of foreigners who do not live in the United States, never have, have no connection to the country whatsoever, but who have figured out a way to make bank off the need of very online Americans for validation of their pre-existing attitudes.

    This is the result of Elon Musk allowing users to monetize their accounts via a premium subscription. Flipping the blue tick from an imprimatur of an account’s authenticity to a marker of someone on the make ought to have been sufficient warning for users, but on social media as in commerce the emptor seldom heeds the caveat.

    And now everyone can see just how many of those blue ticks aren’t what they seem.

    You’ve got to admire their entrepreneurial pluck. It’s all too easy to sit back and coast at your nine-to-five, but these guys have identified a gap in the market and created a whole new industry serving up rageslop to Westoid midwits who can be roused to anger about anything – race, gender, Jews, chemtrails, White House refurbishment – other than the civilization crumbling around them.

    Farming culture-war engagement is a slog, especially when you work to build an audience for one grievance then events (or impressions data) require you to pivot to another one. It’s more effort than reward in most advanced economies but in poorer climes pandering to prejudices and pathologies can bring in a nice chunk of change. First World problems pay Third World mortgages.

    And is there really all that much harm done?

    If you’ve been following @Zoomer_Rhodesian, who claims to be a twenty-something e-girl from Galveston, for her “Is it them again, Yogi?” memes and her keen interest in Waffle House CCTV footage, does it matter that the account is actually the work of Manjeet, a Gen-X father of eight from Ghaziabad?

    If you’re in the market for a desperate Gazan whose only son is shot dead by the IDF every few weeks, and someone in Romania is happy to play that role for engagement, what have you to complain about? You created a market and the market responded accordingly. Service sought, service rendered, cash collected.

    The follower of such an account is being deceived, of course, but only in the same sense that the subscriber to OnlyFans is deceived when his favorite camgirl confesses with a moan that he gets her so hot.

    Where phony accounts can be a source of harm is when their fictions are amplified without verification by the mainstream media. The greatest risk of this comes with accounts which purport to document issues journalists care most about, from a perspective journalists most strongly agree with, in parts of the world where access for journalists is restricted or financially prohibitive. Which is a long-winded way of saying “Palestine.”

    Even here, though, the substantive harm is not done by the Indonesian random inventing ever more lurid stories about Israeli villainy but by the journalist who fails to do that most basic of diligences: check your sources.

    The origin update isn’t all downsides, though. If you’ve ever been unjustly accused of being a foreign influence op, Elon’s latest innovation brings sweet vindication. I should know from my own X account. Contrary to what I’m sometimes told, I don’t tweet from an air-conditioned basement suite at the Mossad headquarters – more’s the pity – but from across the pond in good old Blighty. Look, I have the certificate to prove it.

    This, however, raises another possibility: that accounts flagged as American or otherwise Western will now become very valuable, valuable enough for Westerners to make a fast buck of our own flogging our log-in details to Indian influencers and Ghanaian grifters. Finally, globalization is working in our favor again.

  • How America fell in love with the G&T

    How America fell in love with the G&T

    The gin and tonic has had quite the journey. From humble beginnings protecting British explorers against malaria, it has become the country’s favorite cocktail. Abroad, Italians grown tired of spritzes now opt for it come aperitivo hour. The Japanese bow before it. The world stumbles after it. Yet there is one land the G&T has been slow to conquer: America, the land of vodka sodas and zero-calorie seltzers.

    In recent years that has begun to change. While overall consumption of spirits is down, sales of gin in the US are on the rise and expected to grow some 6.5 percent a year for the rest of this decade. Craft distilleries are in the vanguard: in California, gin is infused with citrus and coastal herbs. In the South, it might be perfumed with watermelon rind or magnolia blossoms. And while US liquor stores still devote more space to vodka and whiskey than anything else, gin is getting more of a look-in. Whole Foods stocks cans of ready-to-drink Tanqueray gin and tonic. After all, there’s only so many shots of kombucha one can stomach.

    As youngsters turn away from alcohol and toward their smartphones, those still drinking increasingly look for smaller quantities of better-quality alcohol. Slamming shots is out; “mindful drinking,” low-ABV tipples and “savoring the mouthfeel” are in. Bright young things have discovered that the G&T looks chic without adding to the waistline. In a social media age, its “old money” good looks are important. It is certainly more photogenic than a whiskey and Coke.

    It helps that the G&T is so easy to make: during the pandemic, we saw the rise of home bartending. Many Americans discovered they could make a better G&T at home than they’d ever got from a harassed Manhattan bartender. You can dress it up with rosemary sprigs or a cucumber slice – but you don’t have to. All you really need is a highball glass and a slice of lemon or lime, and you’ve got something that looks suitably sophisticated.

    But the G&T’s rise is about culture, not just calories or convenience. Gin has never occupied the same place in the American psyche as other cocktails. Hemingway drank his way across the States, from Michigan trout streams to Florida sunsets, but he was a man of daiquiris, rum and whiskey, rather than the gin and tonic. Meanwhile, Don Draper may have toyed with a G&T while lounging in a well-cut Brooks Brothers suit on a summer afternoon, but Mad Men’s soul was really soaked in martinis and old fashioneds. It is gin’s foreignness that creates the G&T’s appeal today. The biggest-selling gin brands in the US are British – Gordon’s, Tanqueray and Bombay Sapphire. And in an era where everything must be artisanal, sustainable and storied, the G&T arrives pre-packaged with a sense of history and exoticism. Once a form of medicine, soaked in Empire, gin is a drink with a grand story. Gin’s curious-sounding botanicals create a sense of sophistication. “Juniper, coriander seed and angelica root have the reassuring ring of Old World complexity and Continental charm.”

    Americans import European drinks – and drinking rituals. The aperitivo hour was once alien; then suddenly every rooftop bar in New York was a sea of Aperol spritzes. Never mind that Europe today is economically stagnant and politically fractious; culturally, it remains unimpeachable. To sip a G&T on a Brooklyn terrace is to feel oh so suave, to be in touching distance of London.

    Nostalgia for the aristocratic drawing room may have helped leaven the G&T moment. The real-life Downton Abbey – Highclere Castle in Hampshire, England – produces its own gin, which it sells across the US. Adam von Gootkin, who co-founded the brand alongside the 8th Earl of Carnarvon (whose family seat is Highclere), told me: “American palates are rediscovering the elegance of gin. People want story, terroir and craftsmanship. The gin and tonic is the revenge of the classics. For too long, we let neon drinks and novelty shots steal the spotlight. Now, people want authenticity – and you can’t fake that with food coloring.”

    Inevitably, celebrities are getting in on the act. Ryan Reynolds has Aviation Gin. Margot Robbie – who has confessed that she used to stash vanilla rooibos teabags in her handbag to rescue bad G&Ts at London nightclubs – is behind Papa Salt Coastal Gin.

    Perhaps tonic will be the next component to get the celeb treatment: the market for premium bottled mixers is booming. The British brand Fever-Tree is doing spectacularly well in the US. It now holds the pole position for both tonic water and ginger beer. Not bad in a country with a long-standing attachment to soda from a gun.

    America will inevitably make the G&T its own. Espressos were for Italians, then Starbucks came along. Sushi went from Japanese delicacy to everyday LA lunch. The G&T may never dethrone the vodka soda or the bourbon old fashioned but a drink that’s journeyed from the balmy terraces of the British Raj to Brooklyn will take a fair bit of stopping. Downton’s preferred drink is coming downtown.

    This article was originally published in The Spectator’s November 24, 2025 World edition.

  • Why bother banning US booze in Canada?

    Why bother banning US booze in Canada?

    You know what they say about America: beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain and purple mountain majesties above the fruited plain. But its fruited plains – specifically its vineyards – and amber waves of grain aren’t doing her neighbor to the north much good at the moment – at least not in the beverage department.

    In the Loyalist province of Ontario, just as in la belle province of Québec, no California wines have graced the store shelves for more than half a year. American tipple is out. As far as eastern Canada is concerned, the minions of Francis Ford Coppola crush grapes in vain, all is quiet along the Yakima and it matters not whether pinot noir still reigns supreme in the Willamette Valley. Ask not for whom the Napa flows; it’s not for thee.

    Last spring, as part of a pushback against Trump’s tariffs, a number of provinces, including Ontario, Québec, Saskatchewan, Alberta and British Columbia, put a ban on the sale of American alcoholic beverages. The move didn’t soften the Trumpian heart, nor did it weaken his resolve. But it did leave Canadian consumers scratching their heads, wondering why all the rum was gone from the Kraken shelf.

    It had, as it turned out, been strong-armed off the displays, along with California wine and Tennessee whiskey. It was not, as in Pirates of the Caribbean, used to build a massive distress-signal fire, but packed sternly away into warehouses on pallets, sealed in layers of plastic wrap and red tape. Shops weren’t even allowed to sell off the stock already imported.

    Alberta, growing into its future role as the voice of Canadian common sense, soon rescinded the ban, but others – notably Ontario, whose short-sighted premier Doug Ford came up with the plan in the first place, and Québec – stayed stuck on the program.

    How times change. Once, America was the country dumping tea into the harbor, prohibiting alcohol, pouring Champagne down the drain and generally playing havoc with the nation’s drinking supply. Back then, Canada sat cheerfully up north, light-hearted and reasonable, sipping on tea, whiskey, bubbly and anything else it fancied, while happily expanding its national economic activity to bootlegging and the manufacture of ginger ale.

    Indeed, if it weren’t for the American temperance movement, Canada Dry might never have gotten off the ground. Its ginger ale sold well in Prohibition-era America, because the extra sugar in ginger ale was just the thing to cover up the taste of bathtub gin.

    Canadians are just as easygoing as they used to be, but it’s now their leaders’ turn to launch into political theatrics, loudly banning American drinks until morale improves. As most Americans don’t worry a huge amount about Canada, let alone what people drink here, the main audience for this little bit of performative whimsy is, sadly, the citizens of Canada. It’s a virtue-signal, intended to make Canadians feel – every time they go grocery shopping – that Something is Being Done, however pointless.

    If you try to buy American products online from the Liquor Control Board of Ontario (the Crown corporation that controls the import and distribution of alcoholic beverages) you’re told, rather sanctimoniously, “This US product is no longer available in response to US tariffs on Canadian goods. Check out our recommended Canadian alternatives.”

    Supporting Canadian winemakers and distilleries (and there are some very good ones, such as Grey Monk in BC or Eau Claire Distillery in Alberta) is not the problem. It’s the hypocritical pretense that the government is helping Canadians, when actually, it’s capitalizing on one more petty method of controlling them. As the Jack Daniel’s man said, why not simply impose a counter-tariff?

    Still, they can go ahead and ban it if they want to. The Canadian smuggling tradition is too good to lose. Canadian author Farley Mowat recounts in The Boat Who Wouldn’t Float, published in the 1960s, how he was invited to participate in a smuggling venture running alcohol between Saint-Pierre and Miquelon and Newfoundland. As Mowat was, in his own words, in favor of anything that takes the mickey out of duly constituted authority whenever that authority intrudes on the freedom of the individual, and (also in his own words) in favor of inexpensive booze, he agreed.

    The local lads on Saint-Pierre helped him prepare his craft: on the sailboat deck, they installed wooden troughs to hold the crates – hinged, so that with the simple pull of a rope, the cargo could be jettisoned in case of visitation by the coast guard.

    In the dark of night, the crates were delivered to the boat and installed in the troughs, each one lashed to a heavy sack. The practice was to tie bags of fisherman’s salt, known as “insurance,” to the smuggled goods. If the crates were thrown overboard, the heavy bags of salt would drag them down to the bottom of the sea. In 15 to 24 hours, depending on the size of the bag, the salt would dissolve and the crates would pop back up to the surface, ready to be collected by any boat that happened to be lingering in the area.

    Out they sailed toward the shore of Newfoundland, ill-gotten goods lashed to the hinged contraptions on deck, keeping a weather eye out for the cops. Sure enough, the RCMP boat roared down upon them in the fog, siren wailing horribly. Mowat and his pal hurled themselves upon the ropes, tossing everything into the sea.

    They were greeted with self-satisfied smiles from the constabulary, who noted that not only had they tossed their cargo unnecessarily, having made it safely into international waters, but that they, the fuzz, were on to the salt bag game and intended to lie in wait on that very spot until each and every crate floated back up. “And we’ll sink every last one of them!” they promised.

    Mowat and crew headed off despondently to the shores of Selby’s Cove, where they were greeted with wild enthusiasm. As it turns out, their operation was only a decoy, and the jettisoned cargo consisted of rocks, attached to sacks not of salt, but of sand. The real operation arrived on shore a few hours later: three boats packed to the gunwales with kegs and cases of smuggled alcohol.

    In the subsequent rejoicings, it is hard to say if anyone spared a thought for the poor coast guard officers, eyeing the waters that never give up their dead.

    This article was originally published in The Spectator’s November 10, 2025 World edition.

  • Britain’s reverse imperialism

    Britain’s reverse imperialism

    Britain’s post colonial reckoning can be summed up in a single sentence delivered last June at the Glastonbury music festival when rapper duo Bob Vylan shouted “You want your country back? You’re not getting it back!” to an overwhelmingly white, middle-class audience roaring its approval. The message was unmistakable: Britain has been colonized – and its dominant culture not only accepts, but celebrates, it.

    Britain’s transformation has been driven not by invasion, but by invitation. The country’s population, political culture and national cohesion has been radically reshaped by immigration – one wave in the 1950s, driven by post-World War Two labor shortages, and another following Brexit. They brought an estimated 10-15 million immigrants, primarily from Africa and South Asia.

    And the more recent surge of what the British euphemistically call “irregular migration,” that is in fact illegal immigration, has only deepened the challenges.

    But the immigration debate is no longer simply about “uncontrolled” migration. The deeper threat lies in what legal immigration from certain regions has produced: reverse imperialism.

    After World War Two, Western colonial empires were dismantled, and their histories of economic exploitation, cultural dominance and political control were broadly condemned. It was hoped that the post-colonial world would look very different. But history is ironic. The racial superiority of the British raj has been replaced by the moral and religious supremacism of its Muslim population.

    The flow of migrants today, particularly from former colonies to their former colonizers, has initiated not a new chapter in diversity, but a quiet conquest by demographic, cultural and political means while Britain’s elites, paralyzed by guilt and progressive dogma, have permitted the erosion of core values in the name of multiculturalism.

    Legal immigration during both postwar periods has significantly increased the UK’s Muslim population – from negligible levels in 1950 to almost seven percent of the population today. But numbers alone don’t tell the whole story. In urban centers like Bradford and Tower Hamlets, their numbers are concentrated, climbing to over 35-40 percent in some neighborhoods.

    These are not merely demographic shifts but cultural. Increased levels of welfare dependency and low levels of female workforce participation in these enclaves – often influenced by cultural and religious values – have raised concerns about an extraction of state resources without corresponding integration. To some critics, this dynamic resembles a kind of “reverse imperialism.”

    Muslim concentration in cities also translates into political power – from “sharia councils” as well as power reshaping local elections, influencing national policy and asserting itself most clearly within the Labour party.

    Let us clarify: Not all Muslims are Islamists. But those who are do not merely reject integration; they actively seek the transformation of their host society. Dawah (religious outreach) funded by zakat (charity), as well as political organizations are used to embed Islamist ideals within public institutions – from schools to local governments and even Parliament itself. This is reverse imperialism – not by armies, but by slow, deliberate cultural and institutional conquest.

    Britain’s robust protections for freedom of speech and religion have been turned into shields for anti-assimilationist movements. Public displays of Islamic religiosity – mass prayers staged in Whitehall and along Tower Bridge, for instance – are not mere cultural expressions. They are demonstrations of societal power.

    Similarly, protests purportedly against the war in Gaza increasingly reveal themselves as anti-Israel, even anti-Semitic. The normalized antisemitism in parts of the Islamic world has quietly embedded itself in Britain’s urban centers and beyond. Consider the British-Palestinian NHS doctor in bucolic Gloucestershire, genuinely stunned to be arrested in October 2025 for hate speech and pro-Hamas posts – as if her deeply held belief in Islamist moral superiority should have granted her immunity. Its presence is most visible in double standards: pro-Palestinian marches in London receive full police protection, while pro-Israel rallies often proceed with minimal security – or none at all.

    And while violence is the most visible symptom, the intellectual and political conquest is quieter but no less potent. Even the once-iconic Oxford Union has become a stage for extremist voices. Far from challenging Islamist ideology, elite British institutions are increasingly complicit in legitimizing it.

    Underlying this societal vulnerability are two postwar developments that have hollowed out British resilience.

    First, Britain has become a post-Christian society. In 1950, 85 percent identified as Christian. In 2025, that number has collapsed to 46 percent. Second, pacifism has replaced patriotism. British youth, increasingly disconnected from national history or pride, express little willingness to defend their country. An Ipsos poll in April 2025 reported that 48 percent said they would not fight for Britain “under any circumstance.” A society that no longer believes in itself is easy to replace.

    Britain’s leaders have offered not resistance, but accommodation – and in doing so, they’ve allowed the institutions of state and society to be gradually reshaped in the image of their most assertive minority factions. These factors are not, as yet, visible in America.

    Many Americans assume that Britain’s postcolonial dilemmas don’t apply here. After all, the US never had colonies in the same sense. Our national reckoning has focused on slavery and civil rights – not empire. But this is a dangerous misconception.

    The United States has long defined itself not by “blood”, but by allegiance to a common set of civic values. But Arthur Schlesinger’s The Disuniting of America, emphasized that unity depended on assimilation – on the willingness to become Americans.

    Today, that process is under threat. Consider Dearborn, Michigan, where the Muslim mayor unapologetically declared a Christian pastor “unwelcome” after he objected to renaming a road after a known Hamas supporter. This is not an isolated event but reflects a broader trend: the emergence of parallel societies with different values and civic loyalties.

    America’s constitutional protections – especially of religion and speech – may ironically be accelerating this process. Foreign flags now fly at US protests. Demonstrators chant for causes antithetical to the American creed. These aren’t just calls for global solidarity – they signal a growing rejection of national unity itself.

    Britain is a cautionary tale, not just about immigration policy, but about “cultural surrender.” The postcolonial legacy has produced fragmentation, the rise of groups with a supremacist agenda resisting integration and a populist backlash. But even populism may come too late if a nation’s sense of self has already withered.

    Trump understands this. His administration’s efforts to redefine immigration, restore assimilation and reassert national identity mark a sharp contrast with Britain’s passivity.

    But a course correction requires more than political leadership. It requires that Americans confront what the British have already endured: that legal immigration absent assimilation can be a mechanism not of enrichment but of replacement, even subjugation.

    Britain’s reversal of empire and identity is well underway. It’s time we learned from those who failed to prevent it.

  • Will Israel always have America’s backing?

    Will Israel always have America’s backing?

    Marc Lynch is angry. The word “rage” appears six times on the first page of America’s Middle East: The Ruination of a Region, and comes in response to Israel’s war in Gaza. This should be sufficient warning to anyone expecting a cool, calm, dispassionate analysis of the Middle East that they might have picked up the wrong book. That is not to say that Lynch, who runs the George Washington University’s Middle East program, is not worth reading. On the contrary, and despite the occasional lapse into the sort of political-science-speak favored by academics, he is a fierce and compelling voice.

    Lynch dates the beginning of America’s Middle East to 1991, the conclusion of a swift military campaign against Saddam Hussein’s Iraq and the end of the bipolar era in which the US and the Soviet Union had for decades shared the responsibilities of international mediation. Contrast the hopes for the region then – Israeli-Palestinian peace, the spread of democracy and liberalizing economic reforms – with the reality of what followed: multiple wars between Israel, Hamas and Hezbollah; another war and a decade-long insurgency in Iraq; civil wars in Syria, Yemen, Libya and Sudan; and continued internal repression by regimes that can be classified as autocracies, if you are being kind, or varying shades of dictatorship if you’re feeling less charitable.

    Both Israel and the United States come in for a vigorous kicking, more so than the region’s Islamists, Hamas foremost among them. This is a pity, as well as a mistake, because it undermines a wider analysis of American policy towards the Middle East that is otherwise brave, bracing and original.

    It is Washington’s complicity with Arab autocracy combined with the impunity it allows Israel, irrespective of whether Republicans or Democrats are in government, which infuriates Lynch. And much of the rest of the world, too. The author is unsparing in his critique. The US, he writes, consistently likes to present itself as “seeking to liberate the people they are immiserating”. Washington’s inability or refusal to take regional public opinion seriously has long been its “fatal flaw”. “The starting premise of American policy has always implicitly been that Palestinians are not fully human beings.”

    As an avowed Obama fan who advised both presidential campaigns, he cuts the former president a lot of slack, though the title of this chapter, adapted from Obama’s memoir, gives the game away: “The Audacity, and Failure, of Hope”. Given Obama’s much vaunted hopes of changing both American policy in the region and the mindset behind it, the charge sheet against him makes depressing reading: a free pass to Gulf forces to help Bahrain’s monarchy crush its Arab Spring uprising in 2011; failure to uphold his “red line” in 2012 over Syrian president Bashar al Assad’s use of chemical weapons against his own people; the refusal to brand the 2013 Saudi- and UAE-backed rising against the democratically elected Muslim Brotherhood government in Egypt a coup. In the words of a 2016 Brookings report, not quoted by Lynch, “when it comes to Israeli-Palestinian peacemaking, no US president has promised more and accomplished less than Obama”.

    The years ahead, Lynch argues, should cause concern for Israelis. The younger generation of Americans, who do not have political memories extending to Israel’s foundation in 1948, are considerably more pro-Palestinian than their parents. When the US finds itself alone, again and again, wielding its Security Council veto in defense of Israel, that demographic shift should ring alarm bells in Jerusalem and Washington. Likewise, as Lynch observes, for decades the bipartisan consensus in the US on Israel barely needed to be openly defended. Today it is under active discussion at every level.

    There is a reason that Benjamin Netanyahu refuses to discuss “the day after” the war in Gaza has ended. We know that it does not involve the beginning of talks with the Palestinians leading to a two-state solution, because he has ruled out a Palestinian state. In many minds, the obvious alternative, a single state, will be tantamount to apartheid. Lynch notes that the quartet composed of Human Rights Watch, Amnesty International, the Israeli human rights organization B’Tselem and the International Court of Justice considers “the international legal criteria for the crime of apartheid” to have been met already.

    On 16 September, a UN report accused Israel of committing genocide, adding to the country’s deepening international isolation days ahead of the planned recognition by a handful of countries, including the UK, France, Canada and Australia, of the state of Palestine at the UN’s General Assembly.

    What comes after Gaza? Like many experts, Lynch has already written off the two-state solution and reckons “an unsustainable apartheid may be a surer route towards the attainment of Palestinian rights than the perpetual pretense of the fantasy of two states”. To quote the title of the Egyptian-American writer Omar El Akkad’s excoriating book on the West’s complicity in the horrors of Gaza, One Day Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This.

    The article first appeared in The Spectator’s UK edition.

  • American sports fans are an embarrassment

    American sports fans are an embarrassment

    Transatlantic tensions and heckling boiled over at the Ryder Cup Saturday, with multiple fans reportedly escorted off the property at Bethpage Black Golf Course.

    On the international stage, Americans are known for often being loud, brash and utterly uncouth. The attitude is a product of the country’s endearing patriotism and unfettered confidence. The Ryder Cup is a case in point of this. The limits of unruly behavior from American fans have known no bounds since the start of the tournament in Long Island. Chants of “U-S-A” quickly shifted to straight-up jeers at European players, notably the duo of Rory McIlory and Shane Lowry, both of whom snapped back in reaction.

    McIlroy was approaching his shot on the 16th green when several members of the crowd began shouting. One American man yelled, “freedom.”

    The Northern Irishman and recent Masters winner stepped back from his tee and said, “Guys, shut the fuck up.” Earlier in the day, McIlroy had blown kisses back at the crowd in agitation and was even caught on camera flipping off fans.

    He went on to deliver a clean shot onto the green and propel himself and Tommy Fleetwood toward a win over the U.S. pair of Harris English and Colin Morikawa. But he refused to bite his tongue in response to the day’s extracurricular activities.

    “I don’t mind them having a go at us. That’s to be expected. That’s what an away Ryder Cup is,” said McIlroy. “Whenever they are still doing it while you are over the ball and trying to hit your shot, that’s the tough thing. In between shots, say whatever you want to me. That’s totally fine. But just give us the respect to let us hit shots, and give us the same chance that the Americans have.”

    Shane Lowry’s anger also flared in the tournament. His caddie was caught on video appearing to physically restrain him before Lowry singled out an unruly fan to security.  

    Here’s the thing: In a sport similar to tennis for its supposed decorum, to the point of having a cliche gesture called the “golf clap,” this raucous behavior by fans is antithetical to the game’s nature of calm and quiet focus. This inflamed unruliness may be a byproduct of cameras and social media existing everywhere and at the touch of our fingertips – everyone wants attention, for good or for bad. Or, perhaps, Americans simply are proving their own inability to host a prestigious international event.

    Take college football, unique in its cultural imprint on American fall weekends. Friday night, the University of Virginia upset 8th-ranked Florida State University in overtime. The entire student section stormed the field, while FSU receiver Squirrel White was still laying in the corner of the end zone. Moments later, an adult Virginia fan took a picture (which has since gone viral for its crudeness) of himself flipping off a Florida State player on the field.

    Fortunately, nobody was hurt in the stampede, but the ACC fined the University of Virginia $50,000. Sure, thousands of fans joyously celebrating on a field looks cool…but at what cost to basic human decency?

    It is that same lack of dignity we all are witnessing at the Ryder Cup. Sure, McIlory is mercurial and known to let his temper get the best of him sometimes on the tour. But he and every other European player has the right to compete with fair treatment, just like the Americans.

    “Go big or go home,” we say in America. But if Americans cannot attend a top-tier professional event with manners, maybe they should simply stay home. Let the players compete without a live audience. Ryder Cup officials should consider whether these spectators deserve a viewing place on the greens. The onus is on them to make changes to ensure this kind of frat-bro behavior does not repeat itself in the coming years – on these shores, or abroad 

  • The Facebook police come calling

    The Facebook police come calling

    In the United States, despite an attorney general who appears unclear on the concept, we enjoy the freest speech laws of anywhere in the world. Not so in the UK, where police casually drop by to harass citizens about their Internet activity. They visited the wrong cottage this summer, as we see in a video released this week by the UK’s “Free Speech Union”. The Thames Valley Police paid a visit to the home of “an American cancer patient and Trump supporter,” who wasn’t having it.

    “You can come in,” she said, “but you’d better have a damn good reason for being here.”

    They did not.

    “I’ll have Elon Musk on you so quick your feet won’t touch,” she said, in a statement that may have carried more weight in June than it does today.

    The officer, who seemed to have no idea he’d bumbled into a Key and Peele sketch, sat on an orange blanket and said, “Something that we believe you’ve written on Facebook has upset someone.”

    “You’re here because somebody got upset?” she said. “Is it against the law? Am I being arrested?”

    “You’re not being arrested.”

    “Then what are you doing here?”

    The officer said he wanted her to make an apology to the person she’d offended.

    “I’m not apologizing to anybody,” she said. “I can tell you that.”

    Well then, said Officer Friendly, perhaps you can come in for an interview. This “allegation,” he said, has been reported to the police.

    “So what?” the woman said. “Are there no houses that have been burgled lately? No rapes? No murders?”

    “Yeah, that’s all going on as well.”

    “Well then why aren’t you out there investigating those?”

    “Because I’ve got to investigate everything that’s reported.”

    “You’re not investigating houses being burgled?”

    “No,” the officer said. “That’s not my job today.”

    His job was to be the thought police. That didn’t make our heroine very happy.

    “Do you know how many houses in this neighborhood have been broken into?” she said.

    “I don’t look after this neighborhood,” he said.

    “No, of course you don’t. Unless there’s a tweet. Then you do… you should not be doing this. I’m a cancer patient. You can see that because I’m bald.”

    We should point out that the video is from the woman’s point of view, so we don’t see that she’s bald.

    “Well, I didn’t know that before I came,” the officer said. “But it still doesn’t say anything. You still can’t break the law. If you don’t break the law, nothing happens.”

    Some laws are meant to be broken, she implied, and we agree. In fact, some laws shouldn’t be laws at all.

    “The public knows what you guys are doing,” she said. “We know what’s going on in this country.”

    Thank you, random Internet lady with cancer. All the people in my feed today – and there are hundreds of them – fulminating about the free-speech violation of Jimmy Kimmel, one of the wealthiest and most prominent voices on the American stage, should take a peek at this case, and hundreds like them, taking place in a country that truly doesn’t support free speech.

    As the Free Speech Union points out, the Thames Valley Police is guarding President Trump as he makes his UK rounds this week. Wouldn’t Trump like to know what the cops are up to on their regular rounds? As long as Donald Trump is visiting the British Isles, he should consider staging a bloodless coup to free UK citizens from the busybody free-speech police, who literally knock on doors and tell sick ladies to stop making mean tweets.