My journey into the heart of America began at the age of 19 when a missionary uncle delighted in welcoming wayward young relatives who arrived at his doorstep in Los Angeles. I still vividly remember our inaugural drive up the sun-kissed coast to San Francisco, pondering why Americans felt the need to travel to Ireland when they had such breathtaking natural splendor right at home.
In the backdrop resonated the pressing issues of 1970s America – Vietnam, student protesters met with deadly force, the turmoil of busing riots, Watergate, stagflation, the oil crisis, and the disgraceful resignations of a vice president and later a president, all unfolding against the grim reality of three assassinations.
It was evident that the youth had lost faith in everything they had been conditioned to trust, but to this wide-eyed observer, what distinguished these Americans from us was their boundless optimism.
In many respects, those trips, filled with the warmth of working-class Irish-Americans who served dinner on shamrock-patterned plates, shaped my perception of every American tourist I encountered in Ireland. It was easy to poke fun at their loud attire and emotional expressions, yet often hidden beneath was a sincere generosity and bravery that would put many of us native Irish to shame, had we given it any thought. Above all, there was that (almost) contagious, wide-eyed optimism.
It’s that version of America I struggle to recall now amidst the barrage of angry generalizations about all Americans, which elevate Hillary Clinton’s “basket of deplorables” remark to a national identity.
A pre-tariff-wars YouGov survey conducted in early March across seven EU nations revealed a sharp decline in favorable sentiments toward the US, with only 20% of Danes feeling positively, 29% of Swedes, and Germans, French, and British opinions ranging from 32% to 37%. Anecdotally, some Irish are also distancing themselves. Friends who can no longer bear supporting Maga America have canceled their annual visits to their emigrant children. Many with subscriptions to respected US media outlets are reconsidering their commitments. An air of embarrassment is now associated with Tesla.
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Now, post-tariffs, the desire to assert ourselves and retaliate is palpable. Informal boycotts are emerging. Liam Kennedy, a professor of American Studies and director of the Clinton Institute at University College Dublin, noted in these pages that “boycotts of American goods and services from outside the US – something that would once have been unthinkable – are on the rise in both number and intensity.”
Some propose that a flag sticker be placed on all US goods to enhance consumer awareness. According to a Sunday Independent/Ireland Thinks poll, half of us are incensed enough to support self-destructive retaliatory tariffs on US products. The fury extends beyond economic concerns; nearly 80% believe that Donald Trump disrespected Ireland by inviting Conor McGregor to the White House on St. Patrick’s Day, indicating that disdain for this version of America also encompasses violations of basic decency, which are implicitly endorsed by half of the US electorate and Maga-influenced kin scattered across the globe. A friend who visited a luxury hotel in the Indian Ocean last week was transfixed by a group of partying Russians wearing red baseball hats that read, “Make Volatility Great Again.”
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For many, the absurd ignorance underpinning White House policies and actions evokes memories of the Brexit battles, which began the same year as Trump’s first election in 2016. Our anger at the displayed carelessness and historical ignorance was so intense that we often had to remind ourselves that while one half of England had succumbed to the Brexit mentality, the other half was in despair. Thus, it may be a fitting moment to reflect that within months of its supposed Independence Day, the entire project had begun to shrink into a painfully embarrassing family secret that dares not speak its name, yet continues to inflict enduring wounds.
It’s challenging to resist the impulse to hold voters accountable for their governments, especially those who were warned repeatedly. Despite the narrative, it was never solely about the so-called “left-behinds”. During Trump’s first term, I encountered groups of affluent American and Irish accountants buzzing with excitement over the fortunes up for grabs. However, the liberal, decent, and brave America that many of us used to know—that was deeply flawed yet still brimming with generosity, intellectual curiosity, and audacity—remains; it clings to the wreckage. That America is being terrorized by official intimidation, horrified by the abduction of legal residents from the streets by masked government agents and far-right trolls compiling lists of public servants to be dismissed. It is mortified by the behavior of politicians, universities, lawyers, and tech giants who are fueled by greed. It is the same America that felt shame as allies and neighbors were insulted and humiliated, yet still showed up in droves at anti-Trump demonstrations over the weekend.
It’s that version of America that we need to remember and support.
[ Could boycotts be an effective way of protesting against the Trump administration?Opens in new window ]
We are too interconnected for it to be any other way, and the relationship is always reciprocal. Our significant exposure to the North American tourist market is already being felt. In many areas, not a household is untouched by tourism or the presence of US multinationals.
A lighthearted question posed in 2016—when both Brexit and Trump seemed unlikely prospects—was which would you pick if given the choice: Brexit or Trump? The “correct” response was Trump, as his presidency would ultimately be temporary. He will be. That other America will regroup and rediscover its courage and optimism once again.
