When Barack Obama was first elected to the American presidency in 2008 he restored Europe's faith in his country without uttering a meaningful word.

The very fact of his existence was enough for a lot of people. Assumptions were made.

As some of us suspected at the time, these were rash. They depended on the idea that an idealist could be bigger than the office he occupied. Before the drone killings and the surveillance programmes became common knowledge, they also depended on the idea that Mr Obama was just such an idealist. At worst, he was not George W Bush. For too many Europeans, that was good enough.

He was feted wherever he went. He was welcomed as the peace-monger, the black man who had turned America's world upside down. They gave him a Nobel Peace Prize even as he was turning Afghanistan into a "war of choice". This president was given the benefit of every doubt even as he signed his "kill lists".

We know better now. In Europe, they know first and foremost that America's use of the word "allies" might not accord with common definitions. In Germany, France, Spain and Italy there has been outrage at the behaviour of the National Security Agency. This is not because spying on the citizenry is a novelty. It is because the US behaved as though power is its own justification.

Britain, as usual, provides a contrast. We already knew that GCHQ has long functioned as an arm of the American state. We could have guessed, long before the White House offered a reassurance, that there was no need to spy on David Cameron. What paltry secrets does Britain keep from the American friends?

It was hardly news, either, that the British public is indifferent to surveillance. If our complacency was based on trust, an argument for a social contract could be made. Instead, tapping and bugging and data harvesting are what we expect. We might not like it, but anger and protest are hardly worth the bother. Mr Cameron reflects this attitude perfectly. He would rather issue scarcely-veiled threats to the Guardian newspaper for publishing Edward Snowden's revelations than ask questions about our bizarre - but "special" - relationship with America.

The Prime Minister certainly has no interest in joining his European colleagues in making demands of Mr Obama. Service to a foreign power matters more to Downing Street than any rational argument over international relations or civil rights.

So a young former Glasgow student, Lauri Love, gets pulled in for hacking American systems. Clearly, that sort of thing will not be tolerated. But it invites a straightforward response. Why is precisely equivalent behaviour from US agencies supposed to be tolerable? The usual response is some nonsense about "anti-American" attitudes. In reality, quite a number of US citizens are also feeling a little anti-American at the moment. They too are the victims of mass spying. Worse, from their point of view, is the claim that even Mr Obama himself has not been kept informed of the extent of the surveillance programmes conducted with his authority.

So allies, like American citizens, becomes assets to be "mined". So the president himself is out of the loop. So the excuse that this is all an essential part of the war against terrorism becomes flimsier by the day when the targets are Angela Merkel, French businessmen, or anyone who types a key word into an email. What becomes clear is that none of those involved in this trade have any sense of limits. If it can be labelled information, they want it. Technology has become an ideology.

America has become fond of its self-image as a global guardian. Given history since 1941, you could make that case. Indignation when the US "fails to act", as over Syria, shows that double standards are alive and well. American power is detested until the use of American power is demanded. But the Snowden revelations take us into strange territory.

They make a nonsense of the idea that US might is being exercised by a national security establishment at the head of a posse of good guys. They render ridiculous the notion that these things are being done on behalf of the American people. Mr Cameron, with his huffing and puffing over a newspaper doing its job, merely tells us that a belief in alliances is archaic to those who run the software.

And who are they, exactly? Mr Obama might be operating, as presidents do, on the basis of deniability. He didn't know because he didn't want to know. It now seems more plausible to describe the national security mob as a state within the state, ranging free across borders, devoted first to self-preservation while treating everyone (that word has ceased to be an exaggeration) as guilty until they cease to be of interest.

Loyalty to country has become minimal. In the context of our little referendum argument, this raises a couple of questions. So Theresa May, Home Secretary, turns up in Edinburgh with doleful warnings that our ability to deal with terrorists will be "diminished" if we choose independence. But how will our ability to control the people who work, if nominally, for Ms May be affected?

The predictable reaction from people with fancy titles is to try to shut up the journalists. In Britain, given the enthusiasm among all parties for putting a leash on the press, this almost counts as funny. A young man like Snowden ruins his life because of a quaint belief in truth. A few newspapers redeem the reputation of the press. Mr Cameron's reaction is to start making menacing noises.

It leaves you with a few conclusions. Britain is being run in the interests of Americans who fail to act in America's interests. Point out wrong-doing and you stand accused of doing wrong. Ask why the wrong-doing is being kept secret and you will be categorised as abetting fanatics. Then General Keith Alexander, director of the NSA, will say publicly that "we ought to come up with a way of stopping" reporting.

The constitution of the United States, the one Gen Alexander is supposed to protect, has a few things to say about that. In Britain, we have no such document, and far fewer defences against those who see no problem with "suspicionless" mass surveillance. If you want to be melodramatic, the western world has acquired an enemy within, and it is not one comprised of a few witless jihadis.

It is also worth observing that all of this is costing vast fortunes in societies whose people are lectured constantly on what is and is not affordable. None of the budgets receives much scrutiny. If they do, that too is a secret. None of the decisions made by those doing the spying gets much attention. That would involve too many big, important secrets. The threats claimed are but rarely explained to those supposedly under threat. For the spooks, this is perfect.

Nevertheless, the Europeans have given the White House a fright. Reform, or the appearance of reform, might follow. Britain, needless to say, has played no part in this collective action. That ought to worry us more than anything. If the NSA does tap Mr Cameron's phone, the last word they'll hear is "Boo".