Donald Trump’s America is clearly pursuing an isolationist ideology. His insane-seeming tariffs scheme, which has sent the stock markets careering and kicked off a trade war, is designed to force Americans to buy American. Trump seemingly can’t comprehend that trade deficits are mostly because American consumerism is famously rapacious, and now the world has to pay the price. Should we be boycotting the US right back?
Canadians and the Danes are already on it. Good for them. Trump has been threatening to annex territory from both, threatening to turn the entirety of Canada into the 51st US state and making a bid to swipe Greenland from Denmark.
In response, Canada has wholeheartedly embraced the motto of Elbows Up, pugnacious ice hockey parlance for taking an aggressive defensive stance. Bookings for flights across the border to the US have dropped sharply as Canadians swear off holidaying next door. US-made whiskey brands such as Jack Daniels have been pulled from shop shelves. Apps such as Maple Scan allow boycotting shoppers to assess whether a product is American and proffer home made alternatives.
Denmark’s largest retailer Salling Group has introduced an easy system for shoppers to shun American goods. A black star symbol on price labels now denotes that something was made in Europe. Other shops have stopped stocking Cheetos and Hershey’s chocolate (surely not much of a loss, it tastes foul) while some Danes are swearing off Coca Cola in favour of Danish brand Jolly Cola. The Danes are experienced boycotters; in 1981 when American chain McDonald’s tried to make inroads in Denmark, the Restaurant Trade Union response was so thorough that local construction workers, typographers and truckers refused to work for the brand.
In a capitalist system, politically motivated consumer boycotts are the sweet spot. It hits a brand where they hurt most — their profits— and is theoretically simple for civilians to adopt. Simply swap out your normal purchases and feel good about your activism through minimal disruption to your routine. It doesn’t require law-abiding citizens to engage in spiky (i.e. legally risky) direct action, but is stronger than fluffy activism like sharing a petition and calling it a day.
Is it time for the UK to join the boycott? Trump isn’t annexing us, yet, unless his enthusiasm for joining the British Commonwealth is a long con. But the 10 per cent tariff, plus 25 per cent on our cars, is coming despite Keir Starmer’s obsequious best. Our politicians won’t back a boycott, so it’s up to us to take grassroots action.
When friends and acquaintances started telling me, post-election, they were boycotting visits to America and American goods, I was initially ambivalent. I have a lot of family there, and a great affection for the country.
Should I boycott Microsoft Office on my work computer, refuse to use Zoom, shutter my Gmail account?
But that was before the new administration started disappearing student activists and deporting people without due process to an El Salvador super prison. British tourist Rebecca Burke was detained at the Canadian border by ICE as she tried to leave the US, shackled and detained for almost three weeks despite having the means to purchase a flight home. Visiting America now feels risky and unsafe, as well as a tacit condoning of the administration’s horrors.
Extracting myself from American goods is also something I can actually do. Oreos, sure, I can live without. Pringles will have to go too. I have no love for weird American cheese. Nike, McDonald’s, Burger King, Levi's, easy to avoid and save money. But then there are the sneaky ones. Boots is owned by Walgreens, Heinz by Kraft Food. At least Superdrug is owned by a Hong Kong conglomerate, and there are plenty of tasty British tomato ketchups to keep us going. Buying local is always better for the environment. Plus drinking French wine can now become an act of solidarity. Win-win.
But then there’s the services, culture and technology. My ancient phone and laptop are Apple products and they still work just fine. I could upgrade them to a non-US brand, but that would be wasteful and expensive. Should I boycott Microsoft Office on my work computer, refuse to use Zoom, shutter my Gmail account? Although escaping emails would actually be great, I don’t wish to become a total hermit. What about the cinema, books, my New York Magazine subscription, or all the streaming services — Netflix, Amazon Prime, Apple TV+, Disney+? Discomfort over missing shows isn’t the issue; my job as a culture journalist (and a soft emails job-haver) would become impossible right as we’re all barreling towards a recession.
Globalisation and American cultural and technological supremacy makes a full boycott nigh impossible, and perhaps Trump is banking on that. But I don’t think isolating ourselves right back is the answer. So for now I will content myself with staying away from their borders, boycotting physical American products, and reluctantly accept that I can’t take a moral stance on not replying to emails. Who’s with me?
India Block is a culture and lifestyle writer
