I’ve crossed the border between Windsor, Ont., and Detroit, Michigan, more times than I can count. Growing up in a city where American television was as readily available as hockey broadcasts, I thought I knew everything about the United States — at least the slice of it that spread out just past the Ambassador Bridge.
As a teenager, I’d slip into Detroit to buy cheaper CDs. My mother would head over for groceries at Kroger or Meijer, collecting coupons from the Sunday paper to stretch a dollar a little further. Gas was cheaper, clothes were cheaper, everything was cheaper. And when you’re young, you’re easily seduced by the thrill of new stores, big city lights, and even the possibility of meeting new friends — or in my case, going on a date or two with someone whose accent sounded just different enough to be intriguing.
Yet I never forgot which side of the border was home. Where I belonged. The feeling of crossing back into Canada after a day or evening spent in Michigan was always strangely comforting — like slipping into a familiar sweater.
That intangible difference was there in the way people spoke, the way they treated each other, and the sense that while our country might not have the neon glare of Times Square or the glam of Hollywood, it offered something else entirely: a promise that if you fall on hard times, if you get sick, if you need a helping hand, the country will try to catch you.
That sense of security is woven into our universal health care system. The system isn’t perfect, and complaining about it is sort of a national pastime. But the idea that you’ll never be turned away from a hospital because your insurance plan wasn’t accepted, or that you won’t go into debt over a broken leg, remains a point of national pride. It sets us apart.
We recognize health care isn’t something we should treat as a profit centre. It’s a fundamental pillar of what we consider a decent and livable society.
We take a similar approach to social programs. Of course, not everyone agrees on how robust they should be, and Canada is no stranger to political debates about the size and scope of government. But undergirding these debates is a core notion that we need a social safety net. Maybe it’s because for half the year, stepping outside in many parts of Canada means braving ice and snow, and you can’t just leave a neighbour out in the cold.
Maybe it’s the mosaic of cultures we have, which necessitates a spirit of co-operation. Or maybe it’s decades of forging a distinct identity, one that leans toward looking out for each other. Whatever the reason, this sense of community feels fundamentally Canadian.
Rumblings from the south
Contrast that with the rumblings from south of the border these days, where the new U.S. president has demonstrated little interest in continuing the polite veneer that used to define American-Canadian relations. It has been a rollercoaster of announced and pulled back tariffs, threats both real and imagined. Right now, there’s a 25% tariffs on Canadian steel and aluminum, with more tariffs slated to hit by April 2 — penalties that could devastate key sectors of our economy. Mind you, all of that could change again by lunch.
And let’s not mince words: Donald Trump has declared that he would prefer to see Canada as the 51st state, referring to our Prime Minister Justin Trudeau as the “governor of the Great State of Canada.” Regardless of where you fall on the political spectrum, that’s more than a casual dig. That’s an affront to the sovereignty of a neighbour and ally. It’s not funny.
The resignation of Justin Trudeau in the face of these challenges has left the leadership reins in the hands of Mark Carney, and who knows what new chapter that might bring. Carney’s leadership will be tested from day one — he must find a way to deal with a White House that has thus far been unapologetic about undercutting the Canadian economy and questioning our right to exist as a nation. And he will need to stand firm for the values that Canadians often tout as uniquely ours: compromise, decency, and a willingness to meet others halfway without sacrificing our identity.
Some people might ask: Why does it matter if we’re viewed as just an extension of the United States? We speak (mostly) the same language, watch many of the same television shows, share a massive border, and enjoy close cultural and economic ties. It’s true that Canada has often struggled to define its distinctiveness.
Trudeau, in an interview with CNN’s Jake Tapper, summed up the thoughts of many citizens: “One of the ways we define ourself most easily is, well, we’re not American.”
But to me, there’s something deeply meaningful in that small measure of independence. Being Canadian is about the space, possibility, and respect we give each other. It’s about believing that while individual freedoms are crucial, we also have an obligation to ensure that collectively, we do all right.
Consider gun control. We’re not without firearms in Canada, nor are we ignorant of how valuable they can be for subsistence hunters, farmers, or even those who enjoy the sport. But we generally accept that guardrails are necessary. And this acceptance doesn’t come from some naïve utopian vision. It comes from a desire to see fewer tragedies and to uphold the idea that “rights” involve community responsibilities. These laws don’t eliminate every risk, but they set a tone: we would rather err on the side of caution than see mass shootings become a routine occurrence.
This isn’t to say we’re perfect. We have our problems — systemic inequality, struggles with Indigenous reconciliation, racism, climate challenges, and more. But we also have a certain humility about these flaws that compels us to keep trying. If you’re searching for a country without hypocrisy or contradiction, you won’t find it here — nor, I suspect, anywhere else. But there’s an earnestness to Canada’s brand of progress.
We’re not always the loudest voice in the global room, and that’s by design. We tend to seek consensus, to find compromise, or at least to avoid hubris when addressing complex issues. Some might call that timidity; others see it as respect.
Canada under siege
That spirit of communal respect is now under siege by the harsh light of economic realpolitik. If new tariffs slam our biggest industries and intentionally try to weaken our national standing, what should Canada do?
We can’t respond with the same brashness, nor should we. After all, meeting fire with fire might scorch the entire region. Still, it’s clear we need a strategic plan that protects our workers and our economy — and we need to do it without abandoning the decency that has long been our hallmark.
Carney has a complicated task ahead of him: maintain Canada’s friendships and alliances around the world, hold steady in negotiations, and push back against what is shaping up to be the most overt attempt to undermine our sovereignty since the War of 1812. (And let’s not forget that, 200 years ago, Thomas Jefferson opined that the conquering of Canada would be a “mere matter of marching.” Two years, and a burned-down White House, later the Yanks found out otherwise. Or… FAFO as the kids say today.)
Solidarity is an asset
When I cross the border today — which at this point is only when I have to for work — I still feel that soft sense of relief when I return. It’s not just that I can once again see Tim Hortons signs on every corner, or that the speed limits flip back to kilometres per hour. It’s the knowledge that, whatever the challenges, this place is mine.
The differences may not always be as glaringly obvious, but they’re real. You notice them in the politeness of everyday interactions and the recognition that while we may often differ with one another, we haven’t succumbed to a screaming match as the only mode of communication. You see it in the simple willingness to believe that solidarity isn’t a weakness; it’s an asset.
More antagonist than ally
That’s why this moment isn’t just about economics or trade. It’s about identity. It’s about whether Canadians are willing to stand up for their sense of country in the face of a neighbour that is, for the time being, more antagonist than ally.
My hope is that we’ll respond in the way we know best: with persistence, courtesy, and an unyielding commitment to the values that keep us distinct. Yes, you can visit the States for cheaper goods, bizarre cereal flavours, or a shopping binge in Detroit. Yes, you can admire certain American innovations and achievements. But there’s a reason we come back — and that reason is profoundly worth defending.
In no scenario are we better off as the 51st state. To quote Trudeau, there’s a “snowball’s chance in hell” of that ever happening. But simply saying it doesn’t make it so.
So let’s not mistake politeness for passivity or courtesy for compliance. Canadians have always known how to stand our ground — whether on a sheet of ice, at a negotiating table, or in a packed hospital waiting room.
We believe in fairness and, yes, we believe in each other. That’s why you can levy tariffs, lob insults, or try to recast us as a mere extension of somewhere else, but you can’t break the sense of home that binds us.
Being Canadian is the promise that together, we push through the storm. It’s an identity we defend not with bluster, but with the quiet assurance that we know exactly who we are — and we wouldn’t trade that for all the cheap gas and Hollywood signs in the world.
