The End of Americanisation?

For the better half of the last century, America has been the largest exporter of pop culture to the rest of the world. Burgers, Disney Channel, cowboys and westerns, Hollywood, high school clichés, Coca-Cola, slushies, Route 66, reality TV, bubblegum, blue jeans, bagels, the American Dream — the list goes on. This was my vision of America. Not only was this my vision, but it was also what everyone around me looked up to: the guidelines for what seemed to be 'cool'. I must preface that I am not an American, and that the European vision of America is largely a parody. Growing up in the Eastern Bloc, my parents and grandparents would tell me stories of American soldiers giving out that “great pink bubblegum” they'd chew for weeks and the Levi’s jeans they'd smuggle across borders — all in the name of getting just a taste of the American Dream. It represented freedom and what was cool; it was a complete infatuation. American pop culture was a beacon for the rest of the world, something to imitate and admire. The question was always: how do they do it in America?

Now, the allure of the fictional American Dream is waning — as is the reach of American pop culture. As we watch the so-called sinew of democracy crumble, we also see its ‘soft power’ — its cultural influence — lose its potency. I know, it's funny to talk about the decline of Americanisation in a town full of Americans. But are we seeing Americans move away from their own culture? Americans in Barbours, Americans greeting with a cheek kiss, Americans developing some sort of Transatlantic accent. Some even hesitate to admit their Americanness, preferring instead to claim their minority heritage — they’re 12.5 per cent Italian.

Statistically, is this decline of American cultural hegemony measurable? Hollywood’s success can act as a sort of barometer in this case. Hollywood box office numbers are in freefall and production has gone down 40 per cent, no longer the global monolith it once was as audiences turn to homegrown cinema. In the UK, YouGov polling suggests that younger generations see American influence as excessive and would like to see it reduced. Globalisation, once a capitalist accelerant for Americanisation, has now enabled a diversification of cultural power. Netflix produces films in Spain, Korea, and Germany, and foreign-language series like Squid Game and Lupin achieve the kind of worldwide success that once belonged only to American blockbusters. Teens no longer look to America for fashion trends, instead turning to the Scandi-aesthetic or frazzled-Englishwoman. Tech and social media, once synonymous with Silicon Valley, now find themselves outpaced — TikTok, a Chinese app, dictates global trends far more than Facebook or X ever did, and US stocks plummeted after the launch of China’s AI model DeepSeek. What we’ve seen in the past is an erosion of local culture in lieu of a single homogeneous world culture led by America. You could once find a McDonalds in any corner of the world; now, their sales are down, and Fife Council won’t even let us open one here.

This shift reflects deeper changes in how the world views success. American values — individualism, hyper-capitalism, relentless ambition — once defined aspirational living. But in the face of economic instability, climate crisis, and growing backlash against unbridled consumerism, these ideals seem increasingly outdated and even harmful. The billionaire entrepreneur, the suburban dream, the constant hustle: are these still the markers of success, or are they the relics of an America that no longer holds the same grip on our collective imagination?

Needless to say, I no longer feel the stifling influence of American culture in my daily life. The blueprint of ‘cool’ is no longer dictated by what’s trending in LA. While the question still remains, how do they do it in America? it seems we now strive to do the opposite. The world has woken up from its American-induced coma and is finally looking elsewhere.

Image from Wikimedia Commons