For decades, Canada operated inside a set of quiet assumptions about how the world worked: trade would keep expanding, allies would stay aligned, the United States might be difficult at times, but it would remain fundamentally predictable, and Canada, a reliable middle power, could prosper by being open, reasonable, and patient.
Those assumptions no longer hold.
That reality came into sharp focus in two recent conversations on The Brian Crombie Radio Hour: one with Rick Anderson, Senior Fellow at the C.D. Howe Institute, and another with Drew Fagan, former head of policy planning at Global Affairs Canada. From different vantage points, both arrived at the same conclusion.
Canada is entering a world defined less by rules and norms, and more by power, leverage, and strategic choice.
The danger is not that this world is hostile. The danger is that Canada may still be acting as if it doesn’t exist.
Rick Anderson described Canada’s long-standing posture as a belief in a “risk-free status quo” — the idea that openness, compliance, and alignment carried few real downsides.
That model worked when global trade was expanding and U.S. leadership was broadly multilateral. It works far less well in a fragmented world.
Trade is no longer universally liberalizing. Supply chains are being re-regionalized. Energy, technology, and security have become instruments of state power. And the United States, especially under Donald Trump, has shown a willingness to use tariffs, rhetoric, and economic pressure not only against adversaries, but against allies.
The result isn’t chaos. It’s something more uncomfortable.
A world where countries are ranked, tested, and pressured. Where agreements function as leverage, not commitments, and where medium-sized economies like Canada must choose strategy over habit.
Drew Fagan framed the moment more starkly.
The post–Cold War era of global free trade may turn out to have been the exception, not the rule.
Historically, the United States rose to dominance behind tariff walls, not open borders. Figures like William McKinley and Theodore Roosevelt saw trade and power as inseparable. What we are witnessing now is not unprecedented, but a return to an older logic: mercantilism, dressed in modern language.
In that world, Canada is vulnerable. Not because it is weak but because it is exposed.
Canada’s economy remains deeply integrated with the U.S., even as that relationship becomes more transactional and less restrained by norms. Tariffs are no longer just economic tools; they are political signals. Public ridicule, nicknames, and pressure campaigns are not side-shows — they are tactics designed to soften resistance before negotiations even begin.
The question is not whether this approach is ethical.
It is whether Canada is prepared for it.
One of the most dangerous instincts in moments like this is to assume that disruptive leadership styles are temporary — that normalcy will simply return.
Both Anderson and Fagan cautioned against that belief.
Trump did not invent American dissatisfaction with globalization. He identified it — and exploited it. Skepticism toward multilateral trade, NATO commitments, and institutional restraint now runs deeper than any single presidency.
For Canada, that means planning for continuity in pressure, not a return to comfort.
If the old model is breaking down, what replaces it?
Both conversations pointed toward a form of middle-power realism. Not alignment with a single hegemon. Not moral posturing. But pragmatic diversification.
That means strengthening trade and energy relationships with Europe and Asia. Taking Canada’s untapped clean energy potential seriously, from offshore wind to critical minerals. Building economic partnerships grounded in ownership and agency, particularly with Indigenous communities. And finally, addressing the internal barriers that weaken Canada’s ability to act cohesively.
As Anderson noted, real economic sovereignty isn’t performative compliance with global norms. It’s the ability to make choices, absorb shocks, and sustain prosperity without over-dependence on any single partner.
One of the more unsettling themes raised in both discussions was how external pressure intersects with internal division: separatist rhetoric in Alberta, strains in Quebec, and interprovincial trade barriers that persist despite decades of promises.
In a more forgiving global order, these were manageable inefficiencies. In a mercantilist one, they become strategic liabilities. Canada’s leverage abroad increasingly depends on coherence at home.
Underlying both interviews was a question that goes beyond policy and into psychology.
Are Canadians emotionally prepared for this shift? Prepared to accept that goodwill may not be reciprocated, that openness carries risk and that strategy sometimes has to replace comfort.
This is not an argument for retreat or cynicism. It is an argument for clarity. The world has not become ungovernable. It has become more honest about how power works.
Countries that adapt — quietly, pragmatically, without nostalgia — will fare better than those waiting for old rules to return.
Canada is not out of options, but it is out of excuses.
The next chapter won’t be written by habit; it will be written by choice.
