The disintegration of the British Empire offers a stark contrast to the turmoil currently experienced in the United States and its global impacts. As the U.S. military reduces its global footprint, echoes of Britain’s colonial decline emerge, particularly in regions like Gaza, where the scale of violence is unprecedented.
U.S. foreign policy is characterized by a series of confrontations—proxy wars, economic disputes, and destabilization efforts—yet it struggles to exert control as it once did. While it manages fleeting successes, these often stem from chaos, the appeasement of corrupt leaders, and widespread repression, offering little hope to those living near its military bases abroad. Domestically, the situation is dire. A populace drained by greedy elites feels anger but lacks the political channels to express it. The economy is faltering, propped up only by the fleeting promise of artificial intelligence, while federal agents patrol the streets, mirroring the oppressive measures used abroad.
This raises questions about the future and whether the fall of the British Empire holds any lessons. I sought out Erik Linstrum’s Age of Emergency: Living with Violence at the End of the British Empire for insights. Linstrum, who is an associate professor of history at the University of Virginia and author of Ruling Minds: Psychology in the British Empire, examines the post-World War II period, focusing on how Britain’s brutal colonial campaigns in the 1950s reverberated back home.
The book’s narrow focus limits its scope, as it does not delve into the key battles or the pivotal moments marking the decline of British influence. My own background has given me an understanding of the British Empire mainly through its effects on Ireland. Age of Emergency, however, reveals how these events resonated within British society.
In this discussion, I’ll compare the American experience today to what Linstrum describes in his book. While there are notable similarities between the decline of the U.S. and that of Britain, there are also significant differences, some of which suggest that American elites may be drawing from British strategies.
Similarities
Numerous passages from Linstrum’s work could easily apply to the United States today, with only minor adjustments to dates and specific locations. For example, the tactics employed by the U.S. and its allies mirror those of the British:
In Malaya and Kenya, Emergency Regulations allowed for curfews, food restrictions, collective punishments, and detention without trial. An oppressive police state led to the Kikuyu population being swept into complex detention networks, where abuse and disease prevailed…
This closely resembles the treatment of detainees in Iraq and at Abu Ghraib, as well as the situation in Palestine. Depressing parallels are evident as the techniques of warfare used abroad increasingly find their way into domestic policing. Technologies, such as drones initially deployed in Gaza by Israel, are now being used over American communities. According to Linstrum, the psychological impact of warfare permeated British life:
…the British state’s dependence on warfare legitimized aggression while individuals in Britain internalized dehumanizing behaviors learned in conflict. Within the metropolis, authoritarian violence became a source of excitement because its consequences were felt elsewhere; it was a rhetorical ideal within an existing system rather than an effort to dismantle it.
In the U.S.—especially during the Trump administration—we see a rising normalcy of authoritarian violence. This extends beyond just masked agents and militarized police; it includes the pervasive violence of neoliberalism, which empowers oligarchs who engage in exploitative practices.
During the British Empire’s decline, parallels were drawn between its actions and those of the Nazis. Today, similar rhetoric surrounds American politics, with some labeling Trumpism as an anomaly. Yet, Linstrum’s observations about the British Empire apply equally to contemporary America:
The risk of labeling something as fascist is that it oversimplifies and marginalizes the homegrown illiberalism that is deeply rooted in the racial violence of an empire.
Just as the violent campaigns of the British Empire were an intrinsic part of capitalism and empire, today’s American imperialism reflects a similar trajectory, even if the locations and strategies shift.
…it was not the “total wars” that transformed civilian life but rather the “small wars” on the borders of the empire…It was the colonial subjects, not the British populace, who bore the brunt of these conflicts.
This sentiment resonates today, reflecting a constant undertone of American foreign policy:
Throughout the years, British soldiers were dispatched to various conflict zones, initiating new wars even before previous ones concluded. The same grim strategies persisted with uncertain outcomes, stirring the sentiment that fighting showcased rather than remedied Britain’s decline as a global power. As Graham Greene wrote from Malaya in 1950, “The war was like a mist; it pervaded everything; it sapped the spirits; it wouldn’t clear.”
Such reflections echo uneasily within the current context of American society.
Differences
Since the September 11 attacks, American actions have generated widespread violence and upheaval across the globe. However, a significant distinction between the United Kingdom’s Empire and contemporary America is that this violence occurs within the framework of late-stage neoliberal globalization.
When Linstrum notes that “The challenge for the British people was to find ways of living with the violence that they simply could not ignore,” he highlights a markedly different experience for Americans today. Many U.S. citizens—especially those not in the military—have become adept at overlooking violence abroad. This isn’t necessarily because they support endless wars, but because immediate personal concerns take precedence.
The ongoing economic collapse poses a more visible threat. As we witness impoverished communities and a surge of despair-related deaths, masked federal agents inhabit the streets, echoing trends in escalating wealth inequality. The decline of the American empire unfolds amidst a backdrop of deindustrialization and intense competition among billionaires, reducing much of the public to a colonized state of vulnerability.
During Britain’s imperial decline, society was more cohesive and had a foundational social safety net that America lacks today. Notably, the UK experienced a shift toward greater economic equality even as it saw the end of its empire.
Consider this striking observation regarding British sentiment during that period:
…violence against relatively defenseless enemies offended British pride.
Such moral concerns appear largely absent among American hawks, who often prefer to target the vulnerable.
Lessons Learned?
Unlike the U.K., America has moved away from conscription—a legacy of the Vietnam War that has helped minimize widespread opposition to military operations.
Opposition to warfare in Britain historically framed it as a trade-off between foreign aggression and domestic welfare, stating, “the country cannot have schools, houses, and hospitals and also build huge bombing planes, warships, and A and H bombs.” Yet, such a discourse is hard to find in the contemporary U.S., where a tightly controlled two-party system stifles dissenting voices and enables a growing police state.
British military service in the colonies bred concerns of fostering a hardened generation. Today, this resonates in America, where elites seem eager to nurture a martial, authoritarian state. Linstrum’s observations also bring forth fears akin to those expressed in Britain during its colonial wars:
…violence is much harder to challenge when it is already in plain sight. Colonial brutality rarely left a mark on British political lexicon. A quiet tradition of “liberal militarism,” favoring advanced weaponry over mass mobilization, may represent the de facto ideology behind military force, exposing a societal inclination accepting of aggressive policies aimed at establishing dominance.
In this context, contemporary American portrayals of military actions—from viral videos showcasing ICE activities to mainstream media narratives—reflect a troubling acceptance of violence under the guise of maintaining order. The Democratic Party’s embrace of “liberal militarism” indicates broader complicity.
Meanwhile, the military-industrial complex benefits regardless of ideological alignment, yet, increasing evidence of corruption and strategic failures, such as the debacle surrounding Suez Canal investments, looms over future military endeavors.
As American elites become increasingly threatened by their own declining power, historical resentments may fuel dangerous calls for a return to aggressive nationalism, echoing sentiments from the aftermath of 9/11.
A Better Comparison?
The most significant distinction lies in the nature of the decline. The British relinquished their empire to a former colony that shared cultural ties, allowing them to maintain influence in a junior partnership. Americans face a more painful reckoning: accepting a diminished role in a post-Western world order.
The American economic landscape parallels Russia’s tumultuous 1990s—a period remembered as a catastrophic loss for many. This dire situation is not unfamiliar to many working-class Americans, with the prospect of escalating crises under a “shock therapy” model appearing imminent.
Stephen Bezruchka, author of Inequality Kills Us All: Covid-19’s Health Lessons for the World, warns that the U.S. might replicate the health disasters seen in post-Soviet Russia:
The 2021 United Nations Human Development Report revealed alarming health disparities, with life expectancy lagging behind that of 43 countries. If we eliminated our three leading causes of death—heart disease, cancer, and COVID-19—we would still struggle to maintain health standards. The only rich nation experiencing a decline in life expectancy continues to face severe socioeconomic challenges post-pandemic. Will the U.S. mimic the persistent decline seen in Russia?
In an era marked by high stress and alarming rates of opioid use, the question remains whether American society will remain mired in a downward spiral, much like Russia did, without taking significant action to address income inequality.
Ultimately, the U.S. finds itself unprepared to uphold global dominance, possibly leaving it vulnerable to foreign influences as its elite contemplate unsavory financial alliances to maintain power.
