Last week, I spoke with a Canadian journalist regarding the cultural tensions occurring on American college campuses. After we concluded that discussion, she had one final inquiry.
“What in the world is Trump thinking about Canada?”
Her question extended beyond President Trump’s threats of tariffs; she was also curious about his peculiar tendency to call Canada the 51st state. While the tariffs may be somewhat understandable, albeit misguided, they are among Trump’s few consistent policy interests. He seems to have a stronger affinity for tariffs than for walls.
However, those who believe that Trump is merely jesting or trying to provoke with his ongoing references to Canada as the 51st state should consider my colleague Matina Stevis-Gridneff’s report stating that Trump expressed to former Prime Minister Justin Trudeau “that he didn’t believe the treaty defining the border between our countries was valid and that he wanted to revise the boundary.”
Trudeau informed Canadians that Trump desired “a complete collapse of the Canadian economy, as it would make it easier to annex us.” This is not a statement typically made lightly by any world leader, even one like Donald Trump.
And why wouldn’t Canadians feel concerned? Trump has been quite explicit about his intentions.
Let me quote Trump’s recent dialogue with Laura Ingraham, a host at Fox News.
“Here’s my issue with Canada,” Trump remarked to Ingraham. “Canada was supposed to be the 51st state because we subsidize Canada by $200 billion each year.”
When a confused Ingraham pressed him, stating, “You’re tougher on Canada than on some of our biggest adversaries,” Trump reiterated his point: “Only because it’s meant to be our 51st state.” Later, he added, “Canada is one of the most challenging countries to engage with.”
So, how did I reply to my new Canadian acquaintance? “Canada is Donald Trump’s Ukraine.”
It appears that Trump concurs. On Friday, he made this analogy clear. While addressing the press in the Oval Office, he once again touted Canada becoming the 51st state and compared Canada’s negotiation stance to that of Ukraine. “The phrase I use is some folks don’t have the cards,” he noted. “I mentioned this about a week and a half ago”—alluding to his infamous exchange with Ukraine’s President, Volodymyr Zelensky, when he told Zelensky: “You’re not in a favorable position. You don’t have the cards at the moment.”
I did not imply that Trump is preparing to invade or use military force against Canada. However, his intentions appear to involve dominating Canada, effectively reducing it to little more than a faction under U.S. control, making it nominally independent. To fully grasp Trump’s viewpoint on Ukraine, one must also understand his perspective on Canada (along with Mexico, Greenland, or Panama)—and vice versa.
Trump, in both words and actions, regards Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping as his legitimate counterparts. Conversely, he treats our allies as subordinate entities. It resembles a scenario in which Putin, Xi, and Trump act as feudal lords, each entitled to their own dominion.
It’s easy to overlook that Trump’s overt disdain for Ukraine is not the entirety of his response to the Russian invasion. The day after Putin expressed his intention to invade, as the Russian Army gathered at Ukraine’s borders, Trump told two conservative radio hosts, “This is genius.”
In that same interview, he even voiced admiration for Putin’s maneuver of declaring the independence of Eastern Ukraine. “Here’s a guy that says, you know, ‘I’m going to declare a significant part of Ukraine independent,’” Trump remarked. “He used the term ‘independence’ and said, ‘we’re going to go in and help maintain peace.’ You have to admit that’s pretty clever.”
It would be erroneous to label Trump as a historian, yet he does pay attention and learn from those he perceives as his peers (and they are all male). Consequently, his second term is already markedly distinct from his first. Initially, he had certain concepts, but much of his foreign and domestic policies seemed to stem from impulse rather than ideology. His senior advisors frequently resisted these impulses—sometimes to the extent of public disagreements and resignations.
For instance, Trump’s first Secretary of Defense, Jim Mattis, resigned in protest against Trump’s decisions, while his second Secretary of Defense openly opposed Trump when he proposed deploying active-duty troops to oversee American streets in 2020. It’s difficult to envision Pete Hegseth allowing any difference between himself and his superior.
The Biden administration has transformed both Trump and his movement. While Trump retains his typical impulses, he is now surrounded by individuals who possess strategies, allowing us to observe a significantly more coherent plan in action.
Domestically, his administration appears to be striving to reinvent the constitutional framework by placing the president at the center of the American governmental structure, subordinating legislative and judicial branches to his commands, and bestowing upon himself unchecked powers—including, most recently, the authority to remove individuals from American streets and dispatch them to El Salvadoran prisons without due process.
Economically, Trump has extolled the Gilded Age. Shortly after his inauguration, Trump stated: “We were at our wealthiest from 1870 to 1913, during which we were a tariff nation.”
In terms of foreign policy, his actions no longer seem isolationist; rather, they appear as a revival of Manifest Destiny, the belief that it was America’s divine right to expand across the continent and beyond, alongside the Monroe Doctrine, which asserted U.S. dominance in the Western Hemisphere.
This perspective is one reason why the Trump administration refrains from holding Russia accountable for initiating the war. In this view, claims of authentic independence by neighboring countries are perceived as threats, even when they don’t pose a military challenge. They threaten the great power’s desire to extend its influence. Under this perspective, Zelensky and Trudeau have both committed the same fault — they have refused to submit when the feudal lord believes they ought to be subservient.
The MAGA movement is driving America back to 19th-century principles in multiple aspects, but it is important to note that this was a century marked by the U.S. invading Canada during the War of 1812 and threatening further military action over the Oregon Territory border in the 1840s. The slogan “54-40 or fight” (referring to the northern border of the Oregon Territory at 54 degrees 40 minutes latitude) became synonymous with the Polk administration, one of the most expansionist and militaristic in American history.
Canadians are well aware of this history. I must admit that visiting the Canadian Naval Museum in Halifax, Nova Scotia, a few years ago was an eye-opening experience, with exhibits honoring victories against American forces in the War of 1812. Successfully defending Canada from American aggression played a crucial role in shaping Canadian national identity.
The pattern is unmistakable. Trump has questioned our defense commitments to Japan, an allied nation located merely a few hours from China, while Taiwan anxiously observes as Trump accuses it of appropriating America’s semiconductor industry. Trump threatened to impose devastating tariffs on Taiwan until the Taiwanese semiconductor manufacturer TSMC consented to establish new manufacturing facilities in Arizona.
There exists an old term in foreign policy for this newly adopted Trump strategy: spheres of influence. According to this theory, every major power maintains its zone of dominance. Consider, for instance, the Warsaw Pact during the Cold War — the nations within the pact were ostensibly independent, but if they showcased real independent tendencies, they would swiftly find Soviet tanks in their streets.
Alternatively, consider the competing spheres of imperial influence during the 19th century, where imperial powers like France, Russia, Britain, and Germany constantly clashed.
America has not been exempt from the desire for dominance. I’ve already mentioned past conflicts with Canada, but the history of Latin America is riddled with American military interventions.
The issue with spheres of influence is their inherent instability. Smaller nations resist subjugation, while larger countries may not agree on the delineation of their respective zones of influence. Consequently, an approach that theoretically separates great powers often leads to clashes as they resort to violence to define the full extent of their reach.
In practice, spheres of influence aren’t distinct. They resemble a Venn diagram, with overlapping regions—frequently, it is within these intersections that wars ignite.
The intrinsic injustice and volatility of spheres of influence (as seen in August 1914 and September 1939) is a key reason the Western alliance has pursued voluntary cooperation as a competing model. The United States is the most influential nation within this alliance, exerting significant influence, but not to the point of Soviet-style control.
This dynamic has contributed to nearly eight decades of peace among great powers, while free trade and mutual cooperation have facilitated extraordinary levels of prosperity for the nations in the Western alliance and our Asian allies.
I am far from the only person to observe the parallels between Canada and Ukraine. Will Saletan from The Bulwark penned an insightful article last week highlighting the striking similarities between Trump’s comments on Canada and Putin’s statements about Ukraine. However, a broader recognition of these patterns is necessary.
The MAGA movement is rooted in substantial ideas, and these concepts are likely to persist beyond Trump’s whims once he departs from the political landscape. We have witnessed the consequences when great powers feel entitled to their zones of influence, and when the strong seek to dominate the weak.
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