As a Brit born to an American parent and a British parent—both of whom dedicated their careers to military and intelligence work—I’ve grown up with a unique perspective on the role of the armed forces in society. My upbringing straddled two nations with deep but differing military traditions. The British Armed Forces, shaped by a history of empire and a long-standing respect for professionalism, contrast with the United States’ more expansive military-industrial complex, which has become an integral part of American identity and policy.
From this vantage point, I’ve often reflected on the unique reverence with which Americans regard their military. While the UK respects its service members, there is a noticeable difference in the cultural narrative. In the United States, military service is elevated to near-sacred status, a fact I’ve observed both with pride and concern. This reverence, while often well-deserved, raises a pressing question: Has American military culture reached its tipping point?
This isn’t a critique of those who serve; my parents’ careers instilled in me a deep respect for the sacrifices made by military and intelligence professionals. Rather, it is a call to examine the broader structures, priorities, and narratives that have evolved around the U.S. military—and the potential consequences of their unchecked expansion.
The Rise of Military Exceptionalism
The United States, more than most nations, has built a culture around the exceptionalism of its armed forces. My American parent spoke often of the pride associated with service—whether through the GI Bill, which opened doors to education and home ownership, or the cultural admiration for veterans, particularly after World War II.
Post-9/11, I saw this dynamic evolve further. The military in America became more than a profession; it was sanctified as the ultimate form of service. Phrases like “thank you for your service” were ubiquitous, and military members were universally lauded as “heroes.” It was a striking contrast to the British attitude, where appreciation for the armed forces often comes with a more subdued pragmatism. In Britain, military service is respected, but it is not the sole definition of patriotism.
In America, however, the cultural pedestal has grown so high that it risks distorting the broader societal balance. A nation that places the military at the heart of its identity faces the danger of prioritising strength and discipline over adaptability, compassion, and civic innovation. This imbalance is not just cultural but also economic and political.
The Economic Weight of Militarisation
Having spent time in both the UK and the U.S., I’ve often marvelled at the sheer scale of American defence spending. The numbers are staggering—over $800 billion in 2023, more than the next ten nations combined. In contrast, the UK, with its smaller global role, maintains a much leaner military budget. While both countries argue that defence spending ensures national security, the U.S. approach stands out for its enormity and its entanglement with private industry.
This focus on military expenditure often comes at the expense of civilian priorities. During visits to the U.S., I’ve seen roads in disrepair, witnessed debates over the cost of healthcare, and heard countless stories about student debt. These challenges are far less pronounced in Britain, where social services receive more balanced attention despite the military’s respected place in society.
My British parent, having worked in intelligence, often spoke of the balance needed between maintaining a strong defence and ensuring a healthy, educated population. The United States, by contrast, seems to have tipped the scales too far. By investing so heavily in defence, it risks neglecting the societal infrastructure that underpins long-term stability.
The Civil-Military Divide
One of the starkest contrasts between the two nations is the civil-military divide. In the UK, where the military is smaller and conscription ended decades ago, the armed forces remain part of the national fabric but do not dominate public life. Military personnel are respected, but they are not placed on a pedestal.
In America, this divide feels more pronounced. Less than 1% of Americans serve in the military, yet the cultural narrative portrays them as the moral backbone of the nation. This disparity creates a curious tension. While the civilian population venerates the military, there is also a growing disconnect—a sense that military members are part of a distinct and, in some ways, separate society.
From my perspective, this gap has troubling implications. My American parent, who served in an intelligence role, often commented on the growing isolation of the military community. This isolation fosters an “us versus them” mentality, one where civilians may struggle to relate to the sacrifices of service members, and veterans may feel alienated from the civilian population. In Britain, this dynamic exists to some degree, but it is tempered by the smaller size of the armed forces and a cultural tendency toward understatement.
Militarised Policymaking: A Shared Concern
Both Britain and America have seen the militarisation of policymaking, though the scale and consequences are far greater in the U.S. In Britain, the armed forces remain firmly under civilian control, and while the military has influenced foreign policy, it has not overshadowed it. In the U.S., however, the military-industrial complex has blurred the lines between civilian governance and military priorities.
This influence is particularly evident in American foreign policy. My parents, having both worked in roles tied to national security, often discussed the contrast between America’s interventionist tendencies and Britain’s more cautious approach. The U.S. has engaged in continuous military operations for over two decades, from Iraq to Afghanistan, often with ambiguous objectives and mixed outcomes. Britain, despite participating in many of these conflicts, has done so with more explicit political debates and narrower commitments.
Domestically, the U.S. has also seen the militarisation of law enforcement, a phenomenon that feels alien from a British perspective. The transfer of surplus military equipment to police departments creates a dynamic where communities are policed as if they were battlefields. This has eroded trust in law enforcement and further entrenched the culture of militarism.
Cultural Repercussions and Patriotism
The elevation of military culture also shapes how Americans view themselves and their role in the world. In the U.S., patriotism is often equated with support for the military, leaving little room to celebrate other forms of civic engagement. In Britain, by contrast, patriotism takes a more multifaceted form, encompassing public service, the arts, and even dissent as expressions of national pride.
This difference in cultural narratives was a recurring topic in my household. My British parent often marvelled at America’s ability to unite around its military, while my American parent reflected on how this focus could sometimes overshadow other aspects of national identity. For instance, teachers, healthcare workers, and social workers—those who sustain the fabric of society—rarely receive the same level of recognition in America as they do in Britain.
Has the Tipping Point Been Reached?
From where I stand, it seems clear that American military culture is at a crossroads. Economic strain, social divides, and the growing isolation of the military community are signs of a system under pressure. The question is whether the United States will adapt or continue to double down on a path that prioritises defence at the expense of broader societal well-being.
Reform is possible, but it requires a cultural shift. Americans must broaden their definition of patriotism, valuing all forms of service equally. Veterans deserve respect, but so too do teachers, nurses, and others who serve their communities. Policymakers must also recalibrate the balance between military and civilian priorities, investing in healthcare, education, and infrastructure to strengthen the nation from within.
As someone who grew up between two worlds, I see the potential for a more balanced approach. Britain, for all its flaws, offers a model of how to respect the military without allowing it to dominate national identity. By learning from its allies and confronting its own challenges, America has the opportunity to chart a new course—one that honours its military while building a society that is truly worth defending.
The choice is clear: adapt or risk decline. For a nation that prides itself on resilience, the time to act is now.
