US toasts Blair but blushes over warmongering Bush

While Blair is often derided in Britain for being Bush’s poodle, in America it’s a different story. Over there he’s widely admired for his defence of the UN, a heroic, if ultimately futile, effort. Americans see Blair as a rock of principle next to the loose cannon Bush. Contrary to common assumptions, most of them feel decidedly uncomfortable with the way Bush has sullied America’s reputation within the community of nations.

Granted, it’s dangerous to make sweeping political predictions on evidence gathered from a fortnight in paradise, but my Florida experience leads me to believe that Bush is doomed. Florida in fact provides a useful barometer for gauging the American political mood. For one thing, the state is a microcosm of national political trends - at the last presidential election, it precisely duplicated the deadlock that gripped the nation as a whole. In addition, in April, the flood of tourists from all parts provides a neat cross-section of national opinion.

Just before my departure, British newspapers delighted in making mockery of American isolationism. Stories of restaurants re-naming French fries and Renaults being pelted with eggs were cited as evidence of a predominant xenophobia. But there will always be isolated Americans who act strangely, just as there are some very weird Brits walking the streets. The solitary lunatic who yells loudly does not speak for a nation. One cuckoo does not make a spring.

Instead of an America eager to kick ass, I found a nation in a slough of despond. Americans are uneasy about the direction their president is taking them and embarrassed by rhetoric more suited to a high school football coach. They are frightened by the way Bush, in the space of 18 months, has managed to squander all the international goodwill that followed the September 11 attacks.

Most Americans desperately want to be liked. They see their country as a force for good and are genuinely distressed that others see them differently. For this reason, they feel deeply wounded by the fact that, before the war, much of the world judged George Bush a greater threat than Saddam Hussein. They are frightened by a president much more adept at making enemies than at courting friends.

In the months after 9/11, America decked itself in red, white and blue. The flag became a fashion statement appearing on everything from beach towels to earrings to cornflake boxes. The flags are now largely gone, at least in comparison to when I visited last summer. Patriotism is still strong, but much more subdued. Americans seem aware that overt demonstrations of their love for their country can be interpreted as aggression.

As is the case in Britain, Americans exhibit a deep loyalty to their troops, but one struggles to find enthusiastic support for the war. I witnessed no great celebration when Baghdad fell, rather a profound sense of relief that the conflict had not been as difficult as feared and that the troops might soon come home. Though Rumsfeld’s Pentagon lackeys have flooded the press with photos of burly American GIs surrounded by smiling Iraqi children, the propaganda has not dispelled a deep unease about the mess that is now Iraq. Nor does anyone seem keen to turn the guns on Syria and Iran.

The president is decidedly out of step with his people. For this reason, it will be very difficult for him to capitalise politically on the victory that his troops have provided. For one thing, Americans are not entirely sure this war was necessary and therefore feel no great delight in winning. Nor are they certain that the world is indeed a safer place simply because Saddam has disappeared.

Misgivings will undoubtedly increase if the troops fail to find the all-important weapons of mass destruction. Bush’s spin-doctors have been decidedly quiet about that aspect of the war over the past fortnight. The war itself has been dubbed Operation Iraqi Freedom, as if to suggest that it was only ever intended to be a great humanitarian gesture. Yet, despite all the marketing of this war, Americans do not feel particularly heroic.

Nor are they convinced by the administration’s decision on Wednesday to lower the terror alert from orange to yellow, a rather feeble attempt to demonstrate the wisdom of this war. No matter what Bush might claim, Americans do not feel safer. Empty planes, deserted airports and bankrupt airlines are a useful barometer of their fear.

Bush is acutely aware that he might become the most prominent casualty of this war. Memories of his father’s fate weigh heavily. George Bush Sr won the war but lost the election a year later because he could not convince voters that economic recovery lay just around the corner. But the challenge facing Dubya is much greater. The first Gulf War was more popular than the sequel and George Bush Sr was much better than his son at courting world opinion.

Dubya faces a mammoth task: his war is unpopular, the economy is on the skids and he’s made a mess of international affairs. It’s therefore no surprise that, while looters were still collecting their booty in Baghdad, Bush announced plans for a massive tax cut. He wants reductions of around $800bn, though it’s doubtful that Congress will allow cuts that high. Nor is it certain that Americans will be fooled by this blatant attempt to buy the electorate.

Granted, Bush’s political future depends in large part on the Democrats. In the past, the Republicans have been saved by their opponents’ tendency to field uninspiring candidates - witness Dukakis, Mondale and Gore. If the Democrats are to capitalise on what seems to be an opportunity, they will have to field someone new and inspiring - a Bill Clinton, not a Dick Gephardt. Senator John Kerry, a Vietnam vet, would be a promising possibility in a post-war election. So, too, would General Wesley Clark, the retired Nato commander and CNN pundit who has tirelessly defended the UN line. Supporting Clark would provide a way of symbolically supporting the troops, while at the same time reaffirming the importance of the UN and Europe.

Americans wear their hearts on the bumpers of their cars. In Florida last week I struggled to find a single pro-Bush bumper sticker. There were plenty that read ‘Support our troops’ and others criticising the war. But the most ominous were two aimed directly at Dubya: ‘No more Bushit’ and my favourite, ‘Someone else for president’. Equally portentous were the street corner protests, small though they were. Florida is supposed to be fun. When people begin to leave the bars in order to make a political point in 90-degree heat, it’s time for the president to get worried. It could be a case of paradise lost.

Gerard de Groot is professor of modern history at St Andrews University