HECK, YEAH:

Many Americans, certainly those I've spoken to but also others in the media, appear supremely confident about a post-Covid-19 recovery that is both economic and societal in nature. One reason such ebullience is so striking is because it contrasts so sharply with how Brits tend to speak and act nowadays when discussing Covid-19 and opening up. That cautious, sucking-through-your-teeth hesitation appears to be a national default position.

In her book A State of Fear: How the UK Government Weaponized Fear During the Covid-19 Pandemic, Laura Dodsworth argues that the pandemic has left us "one of the most frightened countries in the world." From the government's behavioural scientists straight out of a cautionary Aldous Huxley novel, to "roadside signs telling us to 'Stay Alert', the incessantly doom-laden media commentary, to masks literally keeping the fear in our face, we've become afraid of each other," Dodsworth says. 

She cites an international study last September of public attitudes across Europe, the US and Asia which found that people in the UK had the highest overall levels of concern about Covid-19, while another study reported that Britons were the least likely to believe that the economy and businesses should open if Covid-19 was not "fully contained."

Dodsworth has much sympathy for the British population and their reactions -- as do I for the same reasons -- primarily stemming from their being coerced through fear-mongering tactics. In a recent article about the risks of over diagnosing post-traumatic stress disorder, I noted how after a profound disruption like Brexit, it's plausible that Brits and their emotional well-being were more vulnerable than other nationalities to the arrival of a new virus.  

Either way, it's clear there isn't a solid bedrock in this country for breeding confidence and instigating that virtuous feedback loop, as Robertson notes, whereby "confidence begets more confidence." Robertson highlights the "disturbing" findings of a Prince's Trust survey done mid-pandemic in 2020. From 2,000 people in the UK aged 16 -- 25 years old, it found that 41 per cent of respondents felt that their future goals now seemed "impossible to achieve" and 38 per cent felt they would "never succeed in life." 

If that's an accurate indicator across the entire age group, it's hard not to share Robertson's concern that "such a drop in the confidence of nearly half a generation could reverberate for decades in the social, economic and political fabric of Britain." Cue the inspiration of Lady Liberty and those sporting events and everything else happening, and opening up, in the US to spark confidence here.

Another unexpected reminder of the potent spiritedness of the US happened as I read Simon Akam's brutal takedown of the British Army's conduct since 9/11 in his book The Changing of the Guard. A clear theme throughout the book is how dependent the British military is on the might of US forces. Without it, we became unstuck, basically, hence the US military had to keep bailing out the British Army in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Amid the depressing story, I found a strangely uplifting moment. Akam recounts a British officer during the 2003 invasion of Iraq liaising with US forces regarding their providing fast jets 10 minutes ahead of the British force and a swarm of attack helicopters in close support. The British officer "asks how long they can keep that act up for," aware, as an ex-pilot, of the massive logistical challenges of providing air power. The reply from the Americans: "Indefinitely, sir." Akam notes how the British officer's "jaw drops so far that another American -- out of genuine attempted kindness -- elaborates: "That means forever, sir."

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