When I first landed in Canada in the early 2000s, I was struck by a peculiar quirk in how Canadians explained themselves. Two adages seemed to dominate conversations about identity: “Canada is everything the United States isn’t” and “We are better than the United States.” Neither resonated with me. To be honest, they felt hollow, even insecure – less a declaration of selfhood and more a reaction to something else. What does “but we’re not them” even mean? It’s an odd framework, one that tells you nothing of substance. No other country defines itself in such terms. If someone asked who I was, I wouldn’t respond, “I’m not Alex.” That would tell them nothing about me. Worse, it would reveal uncertainty, perhaps even confusion, about who I am.
Yet, this peculiar habit persists, and not just in casual conversation. It is embedded in Canadian culture, often implicitly shaping how the nation presents itself. Even now, amidst heightened rhetoric from figures like Donald Trump, this reactive framing feels inadequate. In fact, it feels like a disservice – one that exposes an underlying truth many would rather avoid: Canada lacks a cohesive, clearly articulated sense of identity.
To some, this might sound overly critical. Isn’t Canada’s strength its diversity? Its openness? Its pluralism? Yes, absolutely. But pluralism and cohesion are not mutually exclusive; in fact, they depend on each other. Diversity flourishes within the structure of shared values and common purpose. Without that, pluralism can begin to feel like fragmentation – disparate parts operating without a unifying whole.
Without this, pluralism risks devolving into disunity, with fewer shared reference points to navigate collective challenges. What Canada needs is not nostalgia for a singular past but a vision for a shared future. This includes celebrating our differences while emphasizing common values like fairness, innovation, and resilience. I believe building frameworks that support this shared identity will demand thoughtful policies, inclusive institutions, and cultural narratives that remind Canadians of what they have in common, even as they celebrate their distinctiveness.
The problem with defining Canada primarily in contrast to the United States isn’t just that it’s reactive; it’s that it’s reductive. It reduces a rich, complex nation to a shadow defined only by what it isn’t. Worse, it fosters a kind of cultural complacency – a belief that being “not America” is sufficient as a guiding principle. But identity requires more than negation. It demands affirmation. It demands introspection and effort. Who are we? What do we stand for? What binds us together?
Ironically, Trump’s words – antagonistic and brash as they often are – may have inadvertently done Canadians a favor by exposing this frailty. His critiques, however divisive, compel Canadians to ask difficult questions. What exactly unites us as a nation? What is our shared reality? Do we even have one? In highlighting the gap in Canada’s self-definition, his rhetoric has forced us to confront an uncomfortable but necessary truth: that a lack of a cohesive identity is not a strength, but a vulnerability.
These are uncomfortable questions, but they are necessary. Without a shared identity, it becomes harder to foster social cohesion, civic engagement, or even basic governance. People need something to rally behind – something bigger than themselves. Canada’s pluralism is remarkable, but it isn’t self-sustaining. It requires a framework, a foundation that holds the pieces together.
Defining that foundation doesn’t mean clinging to the past or enforcing a monolithic view of “Canadian-ness.” It means building a narrative that is inclusive yet specific, dynamic yet anchored. It means celebrating diversity not as an end in itself but as part of a broader story about what makes Canada unique.
Imagine a Canada defined not by what it isn’t but by what it is: a country that values fairness, innovation, resilience, and community. A place where pluralism isn’t just tolerated but embraced as a source of strength. A nation that sees its diversity not as a patchwork of disconnected identities but as a mosaic bound by shared purpose. Where we all honor and celebrate our unique personal identities – our historical, generational, geographical, ethnic, linguistic, religious, cultural, political, gender, social, and personal differences and our different abilities – without feeling the need to let go of them or to conform, yet united by a shared commitment to the core values that define what, we all collectively agree, it means to be Canadian.
Building this kind of identity isn’t easy, but it’s possible – and necessary. It requires effort from all sectors of society: from policymakers who must embed these values into institutions, to educators who shape the narratives taught in schools, to individuals who participate in the cultural and civic life of the nation. It requires moving beyond easy slogans and confronting the hard work of defining who we are, on our terms.
Canada has the ingredients for a compelling national identity. It is one of the few places in the world where pluralism and democracy coexist so harmoniously. It has a rich history, though not without its flaws, and an incredible capacity for reinvention. But these strengths mean little if they aren’t woven into a coherent story – one that Canadians of all backgrounds can see themselves in.
During a recent holiday dinner, the conversation turned to the question of a shared Canadian identity. Someone I deeply respect posed a striking question: In today’s Canada, do we still carry the spirit, the loyalty to our land and to each other, to write a chapter as defining and courageous as Vimy Ridge, should such a moment ever call for it again? The room fell quiet, the weight of the question sinking in. I found myself caught off guard, forced to pause and reflect. And in that moment of honesty, I realized I wasn’t sure.
“Not the United States” is not enough. It never was. Canada deserves more than a reactive identity. It deserves a narrative that inspires, that unites, that elevates. And the good news is, that narrative is waiting to be written. The question is whether Canadians are ready to write it.