This article originally appeared in The Hub.
By Christopher Dummitt, March 19, 2026
Should Canada put the national interest first? The Canadian answer has usually been: Sort of. Maybe. Kinda. It depends.
Even claiming that Canada has a single national interest has often triggered a cascade of questions. Who is a part of it and who is not? Does it conflict with the special claims of Quebecers? What about Aboriginal rights? Can we even speak of a single Canadian culture? Shouldn’t we instead celebrate diversity as our culture?
Mark Carney’s government is living through a modern version of these struggles as it tries to identify projects of national significance.
Our long, divisive history
This is nothing new under the cold Canadian sun. In the 1870s, the young Canadian government wondered whether it could build a national railway to the Pacific. Maybe—but critics soon asked whether the project unfairly benefited Eastern capitalists. And even if it did tie the nation together from east to west, others now argue that it should not be celebrated because it destroyed Indigenous livelihoods and sovereignty.
The pattern appeared again in wartime. Should Canada impose conscription to fight a total war against Germany and Japan? That might be what many English Canadians wanted—but would French Canadians rebel?
Or consider social programs. Could Canada create a national pension plan? It sounded like a good idea. But shouldn’t Quebec be allowed to opt out with compensation and create its own version?
Canada even had its own “Canada First” movement in the 19th century. After the assassination of D’Arcy McGee, a group of British Canadians dreamed of building a culturally nationalist movement that could transcend these divisions within the new country. But it collapsed almost immediately. Canada Firsters spoke in the 19th-century language of race and religion, too easily pitting Catholic against Protestant and English against French. The movement divided the nation it wanted to unite almost as soon as it appeared.
Even in the 20th century, when John Diefenbaker asserted a civil-rights-based “One Canada” vision—a celebration of unhyphenated Canadianism—he was ultimately criticized for ignoring the country’s divisions. Diefenbaker dared to suggest that Canadians should be Canadians first. His critics called the idea naïve. Foolish.
Then came Lester Pearson, who advanced the notion of two founding nations. With Quebec separatism looming in the background—and FLQ bombs and murders pushing Ottawa to act—Pearson embraced a more asymmetrical federalism. Quebec would create its own pension plan and gradually assume control over areas such as immigration and aspects of foreign relations that had once been clearly federal responsibilities. We were told it had to be done.
Perhaps it did. But actions have consequences.
Canadians today live with the consequences of building a country in which the national interest has often ranked second to local, provincial, or ethnic identity.
In 1982, Pierre Trudeau and the premiers agreed to include Section 35 in the Constitution, guaranteeing “existing Aboriginal rights.” Was this a vague concept that few people at the time could define? Yes. Did some warn that it could lead to a major expansion of rights claims and challenges to provincial and federal sovereignty? They did.
Many participants at the 1982 constitutional table would likely be startled by how courts have since interpreted Section 35, expanding the scope of those rights in ways that were never explicitly agreed upon. Yet this concession, too, was made in order to “go along, to get along.”: another accommodation, another effort to pursue justice by dividing authority within the national framework.
The best of intentions.
Better together?
But when a country continually subdivides itself—parceling out powers, exemptions, and special arrangements to nations within the nation—it becomes increasingly difficult to claim a single national interest exists at all.
And once that pattern is established, it should not be surprising when other regions make similar demands for special accommodation.
Hello, Alberta separatists.
Danielle Smith’s proposed referendum questions contain some Western Canadian quirks, but in several areas—immigration authority, the ability to opt out of national programs with compensation—they merely echo concessions Ottawa has long granted Quebec. In effect, they demand their own form of asymmetrical federalism, backed by the implicit threat of separatism. Plus ça change.
The same logic also echoes many Indigenous political claims: demands for local control, economic ownership of resource projects, and forms of sovereignty, accompanied by the silent threat of blockades or prolonged litigation if concessions are not granted.
For some Canadians, this entire process is admirable. They argue it is precisely what defines Canada: a country united by its willingness to accommodate differences and reconcile competing claims.
But if you happen to live in Alberta, you might notice that some differences are more readily accommodated than others. As Orwell put it: “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.”
Taken as a whole, this legacy of national hesitation makes governing difficult. Is it any wonder that Carney spends so much time abroad signing international agreements? Foreign policy is one of the few areas where a Canadian government can still act as a single whole with relative clarity about the national interest.
But Carney’s real test will come when he finally returns home.
Canada’s genius has always been accommodation. But accommodation, repeated often enough, can gradually hollow out the idea that the country itself even has a single political purpose.
When Carney eventually tries to move forward with projects deemed nationally significant—whether mining developments, high-speed rail, or (God forbid) a new pipeline—he will run directly into Canada’s familiar pattern of internal division.
That’s when we’ll truly find out who is willing to embrace an “Elbows Up” style of nationalism. Until then, we’re left wondering: whose elbows? Defending which nation?
Christopher Dummitt is a professor of history at Trent University and host of the podcast 1867 & All That (www.1867allthat.com). He is also the author of “Unbuttoned: A History of Mackenzie King’s Secret Life”.
