Notebook
By Cristina Odone
02/01/2007
America had the world's sympathies after 11th September 2001. But not now.
'We are all American now." NOT, as they say. Since Europe's heartfelt response to the events of September 11, the Bush Administration has squandered our goodwill. Bungles in Iraq and gas-guzzling habits at home are bad enough. We have also witnessed George Bush's casual attitude to extradition: when he showed not the slightest concern over the fate of the NatWest Three (the London businessmen who were extradited to the US on charges relating to a transaction with Enron Corporation in 2000 when they were working for the City of London firm) , or the political pressure his intractable position put on Tony Blair, or the rage of their Middle England supporters, Bush dealt a body blow to the Special Relationship.
Once again thumbing its nose at old allies, America now demands a licence to snoop on Britons and other Europeans. Buy your plane ticket over the internet, and you risk having Uncle Sam examine your other credit-card purchases; he can also read all the messages you sent and received on the email address you used. Oh, and know whether you ordered a vegetarian or kosher airline meal. You can almost hear the catchy new advertising jingle: Fly to America, and leave your civil rights behind.
Crossing the Atlantic is already an ordeal. I speak as someone who regularly flies to Washington DC, where my father has been seriously ill. My repeated entries, with my toddler (now a dab hand at seat-belt fastening, ear decompressing and joining the dots in the booklet in the children's freebie bag), have grown ever more exhausting and humiliating.
There is the milk-bottle test (Mummy holds her nose as she glugs Baby's milk to prove it's not toxic or explosive); the shoe removal (embarrassing exposure of hole in sock); the frisking (passenger behind you cracks lewd jokes); the thumb-printing ("Again!" barks the immigration officer. "Your thumb is too sweaty to be legible!"); the inquisition (often in heavily accented English); and then, just as you think you're clearing Customs, the random baggage search (bras, knickers and a medley of Baby Gap left in a jumble to rearrange). All this plus jet lag, queues and delays: feeling unwelcome, and not a little intimidated, you want to sue the Statue of Liberty for misrepresentation.
Concerns about national security are valid, and universal. But Fortress America would have rather more credibility if it weren't for the 1,125-mile border with Mexico, through which thousands of immigrants slip every day. Any criminal or would-be terrorist can cross into the States in this way; while Britons wishing to visit America have to undergo ever more sinister inspections.
The Land of the Free. NOT.
telegraph.co.uk
By Cristina Odone
02/01/2007
America had the world's sympathies after 11th September 2001. But not now.
'We are all American now." NOT, as they say. Since Europe's heartfelt response to the events of September 11, the Bush Administration has squandered our goodwill. Bungles in Iraq and gas-guzzling habits at home are bad enough. We have also witnessed George Bush's casual attitude to extradition: when he showed not the slightest concern over the fate of the NatWest Three (the London businessmen who were extradited to the US on charges relating to a transaction with Enron Corporation in 2000 when they were working for the City of London firm) , or the political pressure his intractable position put on Tony Blair, or the rage of their Middle England supporters, Bush dealt a body blow to the Special Relationship.
Once again thumbing its nose at old allies, America now demands a licence to snoop on Britons and other Europeans. Buy your plane ticket over the internet, and you risk having Uncle Sam examine your other credit-card purchases; he can also read all the messages you sent and received on the email address you used. Oh, and know whether you ordered a vegetarian or kosher airline meal. You can almost hear the catchy new advertising jingle: Fly to America, and leave your civil rights behind.
Crossing the Atlantic is already an ordeal. I speak as someone who regularly flies to Washington DC, where my father has been seriously ill. My repeated entries, with my toddler (now a dab hand at seat-belt fastening, ear decompressing and joining the dots in the booklet in the children's freebie bag), have grown ever more exhausting and humiliating.
There is the milk-bottle test (Mummy holds her nose as she glugs Baby's milk to prove it's not toxic or explosive); the shoe removal (embarrassing exposure of hole in sock); the frisking (passenger behind you cracks lewd jokes); the thumb-printing ("Again!" barks the immigration officer. "Your thumb is too sweaty to be legible!"); the inquisition (often in heavily accented English); and then, just as you think you're clearing Customs, the random baggage search (bras, knickers and a medley of Baby Gap left in a jumble to rearrange). All this plus jet lag, queues and delays: feeling unwelcome, and not a little intimidated, you want to sue the Statue of Liberty for misrepresentation.
Concerns about national security are valid, and universal. But Fortress America would have rather more credibility if it weren't for the 1,125-mile border with Mexico, through which thousands of immigrants slip every day. Any criminal or would-be terrorist can cross into the States in this way; while Britons wishing to visit America have to undergo ever more sinister inspections.
The Land of the Free. NOT.
telegraph.co.uk
I'm Canadian.
