Having lived an almost equal amount of my life in both the US and Canada, these are really weird times. I’m peering down from Canada at an America that I don’t quite recognize anymore. And judging by the reactions of many other Americans, this is not a function of having lost touch with the pulse of the nation. Many, many other Americans clearly share my dismay.
President Trump’s talk of annexing Canada has been perplexing. At first, it felt like more of his routine absurdity and bravado. Then it became tiresome as he kept needling, hurling insults and taunts. Then it felt calculated, a move in his game, where the sum always adds up to zero.
But the more I learn about it, the more I think about it, the more sinister it feels. Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau has voiced his warning that we should take Trump at his word. A recent news report has shed light on the reasons for Trudeau’s conclusion.
When we consider his talk of annexing Greenland, it adds to the concern. Regarding Canada, it would be easy to believe that his insults and threats are all part of his negotiating strategy. He wants to renegotiate the NAFTA agreement that he’d already renegotiated. Trump negotiates by bullying.
But with Greenland, the motivation isn’t as clear. Sure, there is strategic interest and some natural resources, but really, why Greenland? There’s no open negotiation that he’s trying to grind the Danes down on. It seems to come out of nowhere.
In trying to understand it, it has me reflecting on the America I know from my childhood.
Growing up, I don’t ever recall feeling in myself or in anyone around me a sense of America as an imperialist nation. It was quite the opposite, in fact. In the American origin story, America itself was the victim of an Imperial Britain—America, the colony that fought a war of independence to gain political autonomy, self-determination, and control of its own destiny. And yes, that included a policy of Manifest Destiny, stretching the country’s border from “sea to shining sea.” But even as we learned about this in history classes, it was never defined in the language of imperialism. Imperialism is not a stated feature of the American identity.
As the US came into its own as a nation, the world was moving beyond the era of the colonialism. The empires of Europe were disintegrating, and a new era in history was emerging. The US became an ideal–a democracy for other countries to emulate. We spread our influence through soft power, economic aid and cooperation, and strategic alliances.
History has to pick a narrative and sometimes the side stories get left out. It’s dawning on me now that there were probably always Americans who did want to keep expanding up and down and out beyond the borders we know as the United States of America today. Those voices were apparently never loud enough to carry into the classrooms of my youth. But I think we are hearing their echoes today, along with a seeping through of ugly truths we’ve long tied to deny. That policy of Manifest Destiny was imperialist, particularly to the Indigenous people who were massacred and forcibly displaced. It does matter that we never wanted to define ourselves as imperialist; it also matters that in many ways, we nevertheless always have been.
When you peer into the extremes of the American political spectrum, you find some very alien ideas. Not mainstream. Not familiar. Not even the shit your crazy uncle spouts off at the Thanksgiving table. But deep, core beliefs that seem to go against everything we thought we were and wanted to be.
It seems there are influences within Trump’s sphere that are pushing a vision of an openly imperial America. (Perhaps these influences are the very ones who are openly saluting Hitler—Nazi Germany was an imperial regime after all.) Soft power has no appeal in this vision. Strength equals force. What’s stronger than a country expanding its borders? He both admires and understands—and wants to emulate—what Putin has been doing in Europe. It’s part of why he’s abandoning Ukraine now, reorganizing long-standing alliances, and shuttering modes of diplomacy.
Someone, or a collection of someones, seems to have Trump’s ear and has told him a story of how he could be the leader of a newly great America showing force through acquisition and domination. He’s even claimed a divine mandate for this vision.
Like a king.
I agree now with my Prime Minister’s assessment that my President is serious when he says he wants to take over Canada.
And so I ask my fellow Americans: is this your vision of America, too? When he promised to “make America great,” is this what you imagined? Did I just miss that completely or has he pushed even those who thought they knew what they were asking for into new territory? I fear it will be a dangerous, cold place. It’s certainly not the America I’ve always been proud to call my home, imperfect though she is.
I guess the more important question is: even if this version of America is indeed rooted somewhere deep within us, is this what we want to cling to? Or can we grab a hold of something stronger?
the self-styled life 
This is the vision of a narcissist who could care less about America’s cherished values. Sadly, a cult of personality has evolved that appeals to those who feel diminished in some way. They can no longer see the truth: might does NOT make right and trying to eliminate the truths of American history will fail. Moreover, those who voted for Trump because they feel that they haven’t been given a “fair chance “are in for a rude awakening: the only people who will profit from this madman’s policies will be the wealthy, and it will come at the expense of the poor and needy.
On the bright side, if we subsume Canada and its liberal sensibilities a Republican would never win another election in the United States.
But, seriously, we’re living in a fun house down here where nothing feels real and no one knows what mania we’ll wake up to in the morning. I have deleted and reinstalled my NY Times app like 20 times since the inauguration because it’s all too much but I can’t look away.
I think a lot of this has always been in us as a nation, but a huge part of Trumpism is deciding we’re no longer embarrassed to put our worst foot forward. I think Trump has allowed his supporters to untether themselves from our constitutional norms (and basic human decency) in a way they’ve long wished was possible, and now they’ve all crossed some invisible line of self-control that is going to be difficult to come back from.
Trump sees all of life as a series of transactions that he’s ever attempting to get the better end of. That seems to literally be all there is to him as a person, and that’s the scariest part of him to me. That or the fact that this time around the most heinous people in the country (and world) have figured out that they can mold him into whatever they want as long as they flatter him enough because he’s so cripplingly insecure. In the end, I think the people around him are much more dangerous than Trump himself for this reason. It often feels like US policy is being created by whoever last whispered in Trump’s ear.