How Ted Cruz, the US Tea Party’s Darth Vader, is preparing for a tilt at the presidency

The end of American empire has presented difficult questions about what might come in its place – even for those who found the George W Bush “freedom agenda” so difficult to stomach.

The latest revelations about the activities of the National Security Agency (NSA) may still be reverberating in Europe and South America, but the impact here in the United States has been muted. If anything, the Obama administration is taking more heat for its technological incompetence than its Orwellian overreach. The dominant story in the media is that the website set up to allow Americans to enrol for health care under the Affordable Care Act is in meltdown, putting the Department of Health and Human Services under severe strain and prompting the president to order a “tech surge” to solve the problem.

It is hard to find much sincere outrage at the activities of the NSA – except from the libertarian right, whose main concern is homeland surveillance, in any case.

The reason why the NSA has been allowed to grow so large is that it gives the US a significant advantage in a world in which the cybersphere is becoming ever more important. To restrict its activities to terrorist threats would be to cede the field to nations that are prepared to use this space for a range of equally nefarious activities, including industrial-scale theft of intellectual property. China is already reported to have stolen from the Pentagon the blueprints for the US’s much-prized F-35 fighter jets.

At the heart of this scandal is a deeper truth – which is that the US is operating within a narrower conception of its core national interests than at any time since the cold war. President Obama’s arrival in office was perceived in the rest of the west as an era of rapprochement and multilateralism. While he has eschewed the adventurism of his predecessor, it is hard to make the case that he has been any less unscrupulous. He is certainly not any more engaged. A recent story in the New York Times described how he sat through discussions of Syria policy in the summer, chewing gum and scrolling through his BlackBerry.

This is not to say that Obama’s idealism was a mirage. But it is clearer than ever that his priorities are domestic and that he has a bold agenda fundamentally to change the role of government in American society.

This is far from unpopular with the US electorate. The National Interest magazine, enjoying something of a renaissance, leads with a story about the return to the primacy of the nation state, “surpassing in significance all the recent preoccupations over civilisational clash, globalisation, history’s end and great-power polarity”. In the same spirit, Obama’s national security adviser, Susan Rice, has just completed a review of US policy in the Middle East addressing the question of “core American interests”. “‘We can’t just be consumed 24/7 by one region, important as it is,” she has said, signalling a much more hard-headed approach in which American commitments are to be scaled down further. The support for democratic reform in Egypt, once seen as a cornerstone of US strategy, has been dropped, emphatically.

The end of American empire has presented difficult questions about what might come in its place – even for those who found the George W Bush “freedom agenda” so difficult to stomach. Saudi Arabia, in particular, has been grumbling about the failure of US leadership in Syria and about the vacillation of policy during the summer, which Riyadh believes is playing into the hands of Iran. The Saudi view is that the deal to dispense with Assad’s chemical weapons has taken the diplomatic pressure off him in the civil war. The Saudi decision to turn down a seat on the UN Security Council was intended as a sign of discontent directed at Washington.

Saudi Arabia is not the only ally to feel a little stung by the new realpolitik rationale in DC. After Pakistan’s prime minister, Nawaz Sharif, raised the issue of the ongoing drone campaign at a meeting with Barack Obama late last month, documents were leaked to Bob Woodward of the Washington Post proving that senior Pakistani officials co-operate closely with the CIA on its drone programme. This may be the worst-kept secret of US-Pakistani relations. But it defies the logic put forward in a book doing the rounds in DC – One Hundred Victories: Special Ops and the Future of American Warfare by Linda Robinson of the Rand Corporation – which suggests that “partnering” is the critical element of the new American approach to war.

GOP fallout

The Republican Party, meanwhile, continues its internal feud over the strategy that led to the US government shutdown last month.

As much as anything, the battle between the GOP and the Tea Party was about tone and tactics. On the substantive policy issues involved – opposition to the Affordable Care Act and belief in the need to cut government spending – they were fundamentally on the same page. The same can’t be said of the looming issue of immigration reform, shortly to appear on the legislative agenda. It represents the single greatest threat to party unity.

Senator Ted Cruz, the Tea Party hero who came to national prominence during the shutdown, continues to court the spotlight. Over the course of his 21-hour filibuster speech against “Obamacare”, the maverick Princeton-educated Texan imitated Darth Vader and read from Green Eggs and Ham by Dr Seuss. He spent last weekend drumming up support in the bellwether state of Iowa. That’s a sure sign he is preparing a run for the Republican presidential nomination.

Ted Cruz speaks about immigration in Washington, DC. Image: Getty

John Bew is a New Statesman contributing writer. His most recent book, Realpolitik: A History, is published by Oxford University Press.

This article first appeared in the 30 October 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Should you bother to vote?

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Why hasn’t British Asian entertainment built on the Goodness Gracious Me golden age?

It is 20 years since the original radio series of Goodness Gracious Me aired. Over two decades, the UK media portrayal of Asians hasn’t used its success to evolve.

Save for a handful of special one-off episodes, Goodness Gracious Me hasn’t occupied a primetime TV slot for nearly two decades. Yet still it remains the measuring stick for British Asian comedy.

The sketch show, which transitioned seamlessly from radio to screen (it started as a BBC Radio 4 series in 1996), has stood the test of time and is as much a staple of modern British Asian culture as Tupperware or turning up an hour late.

What Goodness Gracious Me did so expertly was to take a set of serious issues facing first, second and now, I suppose, third generation migrants, and turn them on their heads. 

In making light of the pressures of academic expectation or family drama, Goodness Gracious Me wasn’t playing down the poignancy of such concerns; it was raising awareness and combatting their uglier side with humour.

It offered resonance and reassurance in equal measure; it was ok to have an embarrassing uncle who insisted he could get you anything much cheaper, including a new kidney, because other people like you did too.

That Goodness Gracious Me was broadcast on a mainstream channel was also a victory for minorities; it made us feel integrated and, perhaps more importantly, accepted. Against the backdrop of Brexit, what wouldn’t we give for that treatment now?

Really, though, the jewel in Goodness Gracious Me’s crown was its willingness to recognise diversity within diversity. It is a relic of a departed era when discourse on TV around Asians was different, when the broad church of that term was truly represented, rather than reduced to one catchall perception of British Muslims.

Goodness Gracious Me offered insight into the experiences and idiosyncrasies – religious or otherwise – of Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Sri Lankans and even English people. It’s what made it so accessible and, in answering why subsequent programmes have failed to reach similar heights, this is a good starting point.

Without the flexible sketch format, the modern Asian sitcom Citizen Khan has struggled to cover multiple topics, and, by being specifically about a Muslim family, it leaves many non-Muslim Asians wondering: where’s ours?

I hasten to add that I feel plenty of sympathy for the British Muslim community, hounded by tabloid headlines that attack their faith, but it would be disingenuous to suggest that non-Muslim Asians are sitting pretty in 2016 and don’t need a similar level of support in terms of positive public perception.

The current volume of British Asian media products is fairly good. The BBC has its dedicated network, The Good Immigrant essay collection was one of the outstanding reads of the year, and we still have champions of comedy in Romesh Ranganathan and Nish Kumar.

But I think ultimately it comes down to the broadness of appeal, rather than the quantity of products. Goodness Gracious Me was not only able to engage the full spectrum of British Asia; it transcended its target audience and was on terrestrial TV.

The British Asian media on offer now is up against it, released as the country’s attitude towards foreigners completes a full circle back to the same suspicion my grandfather encountered in the Sixties.

Fewer outlets are willing to explore the stretch of what it means to be Asian, either by denying it due consideration in mainstream shows or by peddling their own monolithic observations. The BBC Asian Network, for example, is laudable in its existence, but does little to engage the young Asians who aren’t into techno spliced with Bhangra.

The mainstream representations of Asians in Western film and television that are commissioned, meanwhile, are irritatingly limited and sometimes inaccurate. In an article for the Guardian last year, Sara Abassi lamented the disproportionate appetite for “gritty post-9/11 films about conservative Pakistani families”, and that the researchers of American series Homeland failed to realise that the national language of Pakistan isn’t Arabic.

When I interviewed the actor Himesh Patel for the No Country for Brown Men podcast, he suggested that the answer to re-establishing Asians in mainstream media, both here and in America, was three-fold. The first challenge to overcome was for outlets to acknowledge that not all Asians fit the same religious or cultural profile; the second was to be open to placing Asians in non-Asian specific products to better reflect their presence in society.

Patel, who is best known for his portrayal of Tamwar Masood in the soap opera EastEnders, made his third recommendation based on this role. He felt that characters should be written with only their personality in mind, making the ethnicity of the actor who plays them incidental. Tamwar’s awkwardness but underlying kindness, Patel said, was what defined him – not his skin colour.

Goodness Gracious Me, though a primarily Asian show and a comedy at that, actually taught some salient lessons about representation. It succeeded in providing a window into a multiplicity of cultures, but at the same time wasn’t a total slave to the politics of identity – several of the 100-plus characters needn’t have been Asian at all. It was reflexive to the times we lived in and a perfect advertisement for empathy. That is why we still talk about it today.

Rohan Banerjee is a Special Projects Writer at the New Statesman. He co-hosts the No Country For Brown Men podcast.