August marks 85 years since the declaration of the Atlantic Charter in Placentia Bay, Newfoundland. Britain and its Empire were already almost two years into the Second World War, while the United States had yet to enter. For Churchill, the first task of the meeting was to bring the Americans into the war, or at the very least to secure more military aid. For Roosevelt, the meeting and the Charter were intended to establish a set of common post-war aims that would become the bedrock for the United Nations. But it was Churchill who came out on top in the long run.
Some of the aspects of the Charter were tough for Churchill to swallow. The principle of self-determination posed a threat to the Empire’s longevity, and he fiercely resisted any notion that Britain was to decolonise. A year later, addressing the Lord Mayor’s Banquet at Mansion House, Churchill remarked: “I have not become the King’s Minister in order to promote the liquidation of the British Empire.”
Roosevelt’s desire to pressure Britain, and by extension other European powers, towards decolonisation was simply a continuation of an established American tradition. American national identity since its founding 165 years prior had been shaped by a rejection of imperial rule and a belief in self-determination. The American War of Independence was framed as a struggle against imperial authority, with the new United States conceived as an ’empire of liberty’ built on the consent of the governed. Woodrow Wilson’s liberal internationalism extended this principle onto the global stage after the First World War. The fifth of his Fourteen Points laid before Congress in 1918 called for the adjustment of colonial claims with the equal voice of all those governed, though the hopes of anti-colonial nationalist leaders were soon frustrated.
The question soon became not how far America would push European powers, but how that anti-imperialist identity would fare as the US became the senior partner in the transatlantic relationship — the Romans to the British Greeks — and the world entered a new phase: the Cold War.
Less than a year after the conclusion of the Second World War, George Kennan, then the acting US ambassador in Moscow, wrote his Long Telegram, outlining the psychology of Soviet foreign policy and its expansionist tendencies. The 8,000-word cable would become the foundational document in the policy of containment. Referencing European colonies as potential targets of Soviet strategy, Kennan regarded that Kremlin policy would be “directed toward weakening of power and influence and contacts of advanced Western nations, on theory that in so far as this policy is successful, there will be created a vacuum which will favor Communist-Soviet penetration.”
Britain entered its most significant phase of decolonisation following Macmillan’s ‘Winds of Change’ speech in 1960, and it is often argued that American pressure was the driving force behind the process. Yet, the long-standing commitment to anti-imperialism was increasingly subordinated to containment. Britain’s remaining imperial commitments were seen as a way to constrain and prevent the dominoes falling in the Kremlin’s favour.
Take British Guiana, a small colony of less than a million people in South America, which had been set for independence in the early sixties. As Britain laid the groundwork for the colony’s independence, Washington’s paranoia over Fidel Castro’s solidification of power in Cuba was growing. The prospect of another leftist, Soviet-aligned government in the Western Hemisphere was intolerable, and the prospective leader of Guiana, Cheddi Jagan, was seen as “going the way of Castro Cuba.” Britain remained determined to decolonise, though under extensive pressure from Washington, Westminster resolved itself to delay independence and change the governance system to benefit Jagan’s opponent. President Kennedy even outlined that America would “go all out to the extent necessary” to provide diplomatic backing for the decision.
A similar dynamic emerged in the Middle East, although here Britain was more reluctant to decolonise, as Aden — nowadays broadly the country of Yemen — was the gateway to the Red Sea and thus vital for British economic interests. Links between the Soviet Union and a Yemeni coup leader, Abdullah al-Sallal, risked undermining the US, and that the region might fall into the Soviets’ orbit. Several countries had already fallen under Moscow’s thumb, including Iraq. Consequently, the containment of Soviet influence in the Middle East, and that of its proxies, necessitated “a general British position” in Aden, so regarded the American Embassy in the new United Arab Republic. The White House went as far as to lobby Arab leaders, including the Egyptian Colonel Nasser, to accept Britain’s continued role.
Last, decolonisation in South East Asia, where America was focusing much more of its attention, was made conditional: Britain could only withdraw if it retained a considerable military presence in Singapore. The domino theory had truly taken hold in Washington. Vietnam was one example. The power of Chinese-backed communist insurgents in Laos likewise intensified similar fears. What, American policymakers wondered, would happen to Malaya and Singapore without the British? It was therefore an American priority to press home the importance of a British presence east of the Suez. Indeed, when Britain did announce its withdrawal from the region, President Johnson remarked that he would “no longer consider the UK a valuable ally in any strategic theatre.”
Ultimately, Roosevelt’s ambitions for the Atlantic Charter failed to survive the realities of the Cold War. The Charter undoubtedly laid the foundations for the creation of a now extinct rules-based order built around multilateralism. Yet, its commitment to self-determination could not overcome the imperatives of great power competition. The US entered the Cold War with a commitment to anti-imperialism. But when confronted with the threat of Soviet expansion and global influence, that principle repeatedly gave way to the demands of containment: demands which, 85 years on, still continue to dominate how we look at the US’s role on the global stage.
Original photo from the collections of the Imperial War Museum portrays FDR and Churchill seated on the quarterdeck of HMS Price of Wales for a Sunday service during the Atlantic Conference.
