Until seven years ago, one of the key centres of American power in Europe was a few minutes’ walk from the consumer frenzy of Oxford Street in London. Reassuring or enraging, depending on your view of American hegemony, for more than half a century the enormous US embassy, by far the largest in the capital, provided diplomatic, immigration and intelligence services – and an irresistible target for protesters. Its strikingly skeletal grey building on Grosvenor Square, which opened in 1960, became steadily more surrounded by fences, concrete blocks, bollards and other defences: signs of the increasing effort required to maintain the US’s worldwide ascendancy.
So it’s strange to visit the square and find that all the defences have gone. You can walk right up to the building, as protesters never managed to in large numbers, on to pavements once menacingly guarded by the embassy’s detachment of US marines, and peer through the rows of windows at an interior eerily transformed.
Like the exterior, it has been almost entirely dismantled and then reconstructed over several years, its grey bones warmed and softened with a lavish new colour scheme based on gold. The signal being sent to visitors and passersby is not subtle. The building’s new role is to serve those around whose needs and wishes the centres of London and other prestigious cities are increasingly being reshaped: the 1%.
Staying at the Chancery Rosewood, as the former embassy is now known, will cost between £1,520 and £24,102 a night – the latter half the annual median salary in London – when the hotel’s first guests arrive on 1 September. Among other amenities, they will have an “immersive wellness area”, “courtesy Bentley cars” and a “curated art exhibition with art concierge”. The combination of material ostentation, health micromanagement and exclusive cultural opportunities required by the very wealthy these days will be provided by a formerly American hospitality chain, now owned by a conglomerate based in Hong Kong. The building itself is owned by Qatar’s sovereign wealth fund. As so often in Britain, the ambition of some non-western countries to reverse their relationship with the old imperial powers is hiding in plain sight.
Enclaves for ultra-wealthy guests are proliferating across a widening swathe of central London. Some of these hotels, such as Raffles London at the OWO (Old War Office) and the Waldorf Astoria London Admiralty Arch, follow a similar formula to the Chancery. Famous, well-located properties sold off by the state – the Old War Office and Admiralty Arch disposed of during the deep spending cuts by David Cameron’s government – are having their history and faded grandeur commodified into something glitzier.
By its final years, parts of the Grosvenor Square embassy were actually quite shabby, with worn carpets and frayed office furniture. Maintaining large government premises in expensive city-centre locations, exposed to protests or potential terrorist attack, can ultimately become unappealing for the state, not least because its revenues are limited by the reluctance of many of the 1% to pay their taxes. So the London boom in luxurious office-to-hotel conversions may have been partly prompted, in an indirect way, by the self-interest of some of those who now stay in them. As so often in the 21st century, the behaviour of the 1% feels impervious to satire or condemnation.
Fifty-seven years ago, at the height of protests against the Vietnam war, Grosvenor Square filled with demonstrators, among them the leading activist Tariq Ali. In his memoir of the 1960s, Street Fighting Years, he recalls that he and his more excitable comrades “dreamed” of forcing their way into the building, and “using the embassy telex to cable the US embassy in Saigon and inform them that pro-Vietcong forces had seized the premises in Grosvenor Square”. Only mounted police charges and mass arrests saved the London embassy from invasion.
Yet now luxury capitalism has managed to do what protesters could not, and take over the building from the spooks and diplomats. With Donald Trump transparently running the US for the benefit of the rich, it feels fitting that the building has become a place for them, rather than Americans in general. The hotel will be open just in time for his September state visit. Perhaps some of his wealthier supporters will take the opportunity to stay.
For any guest who worries about the potential provocation of yet another elite hotel, operating at a traditional protest site, in a country in which most people are struggling with a seemingly endless cost of living crisis, the Chancery does have some discreet security. Cameras cover the hotel’s perimeter, and guards circle the building after dark.
Meanwhile a couple of miles to the south, in a new London landscape of residential towers and windswept roads at Nine Elms, the successor to the Grosvenor Square embassy stands in the middle of its own, far more extensive security zone, including a partial moat and a defensive wall disguised as a waterfall. The huge pale cube of the current US embassy dominates its neighbourhood even more than its predecessor did. It’s also much further away from the usual routes of London political marches.
Some protesters have already adjusted. Thousands of people supporting Palestine walked to the embassy in February, to show their fury at Trump’s backing for Israel. The symbolic contrast between their defiant flags and flimsy placards and the fortress-like building did not work in the US’s favour. The Grosvenor Square embassy may be gone, but the business of challenging the US goes on.
Andy Beckett is a Guardian columnist
