Canada's 150 Years Of Dependence

JULY 1ST, 2026 | NATHAN DANIEL

Every country eventually develops a national myth. Americans have the Revolution. The French have the Republic. The British have Parliament. Canadians have something much less inspiring: the comforting belief that history simply happened to us.

We tell ourselves that Canada became what it is because geography demanded it, because compromise was virtuous, because moderation was wise, and because stability was always preferable to ambition. It's a pleasant story. It's also one that conveniently excuses nearly every major strategic failure in Canadian history.

My view is simpler. Canada spent more than 150 years making choices that rewarded dependence over independence. Not colonial dependence alone, but economic, military, technological, and political dependence. Each decision looked reasonable in isolation. Together, they built a country that rarely led, rarely risked, and almost never acted without leaning on someone larger.

By the time Canadians began asking why the country seemed unable to solve its own problems, the habit of dependency had already become part of the national identity.

Confederation itself reflected this instinct. The Fathers of Confederation were not revolutionaries. Unlike the American founders, they were loyal subjects of the British Crown seeking greater autonomy without severing imperial ties. Confederation in 1867 was designed to create a more efficient dominion inside the British Empire, not a fully independent republic. That decision was understandable given the era, but it established an important precedent. Canada's political culture would favour gradual accommodation over decisive independence.

For decades afterward, Britain remained Canada's strategic shield. London controlled foreign affairs well into the twentieth century, and Britain remained Canada's principal military protector. Canadian governments accepted that arrangement because it was cheaper than building great-power capabilities of their own.

When Britain's global power declined after the Second World War, Canada faced a defining choice. It could begin developing the institutions of an independent middle power capable of defending its own interests, or it could simply find a new patron.

It chose Washington.

The transition happened so gradually that many Canadians barely noticed it. Britain's Royal Navy gave way to American aircraft carriers. Imperial trade preferences gave way to continental integration. British strategic leadership gave way to NATO, NORAD, and an increasingly American-led security order.

None of this was necessarily irrational. The United States was richer, closer, and militarily dominant. Aligning with it brought enormous benefits. But alignment slowly became dependence.

Canada rarely built military capabilities based solely on its own strategic requirements. Defence spending repeatedly lagged behind NATO targets. Procurement became painfully slow. Equipment aged. Successive governments assumed that, in any truly serious crisis, the United States would ultimately guarantee North American security.

That assumption has held for decades. It is also the definition of strategic dependency.

The same pattern emerged economically. Rather than cultivating diverse export markets early, Canada became overwhelmingly reliant on access to the American economy. Energy, manufacturing, agriculture, forestry, and countless supply chains oriented themselves southward. Trade agreements produced genuine prosperity, but they also concentrated risk.

Every American tariff dispute, regulatory change, or border disruption reminded Canadians how little leverage they actually possessed.

A genuinely independent economic strategy would have required difficult choices: greater domestic investment, more aggressive industrial policy, stronger capital markets, and larger infrastructure projects linking Canadian regions together. Those choices were expensive. Dependency was cheaper.

Canada repeatedly chose the cheaper option.

The country's relationship with natural resources illustrates the same habit. Canada possesses extraordinary reserves of oil, natural gas, uranium, potash, timber, critical minerals, and fresh water. Few countries have been blessed with such geographic wealth.

Yet for much of its history, Canada has primarily exported raw commodities while importing higher-value finished products and technologies. Instead of consistently building complete industrial ecosystems around its resources, governments often settled for being suppliers to larger economies. That model generated income, but it also reinforced Canada's role as a junior partner in global value chains.

Technology tells a similar story.

Canada has produced world-class innovators. Insulin, IMAX, BlackBerry, Canadarm, and countless scientific breakthroughs demonstrate that Canadian talent has never been the problem.

The problem has been scale.

Innovative companies frequently struggle to grow domestically before being acquired by foreign firms or relocating to larger markets. Venture capital remains comparatively limited. Productivity growth has lagged behind peer nations for years. Rather than creating national champions consistently capable of competing globally, Canada often serves as an incubator for businesses that eventually mature elsewhere.

Again, the easier path prevailed.

Higher education followed a comparable trajectory. Canadian universities became exceptionally good at producing skilled graduates. Many of those graduates then left for higher salaries, larger research budgets, and broader career opportunities abroad, particularly in the United States. Canada effectively subsidized human capital that increasingly benefited competing economies.

Brain drain became normalized.

Rather than asking why ambitious people kept leaving, Canadians often congratulated themselves for producing talent attractive enough to recruit away.

Housing exposed another weakness.

Instead of treating affordable housing as essential economic infrastructure, governments increasingly treated rising home values as proof of national success. Construction failed to keep pace with population growth in many regions. Municipal zoning constrained supply. Immigration expanded faster than housing capacity. Real estate became one of the country's most politically protected industries.

The result was predictable.

Capital flowed into existing homes rather than new productive investment. Younger Canadians accumulated debt instead of wealth. Economic dynamism weakened while property speculation strengthened. Dependency evolved again. This time, it was dependence on ever-rising real estate values to sustain household balance sheets and political stability.

Healthcare reflects the same institutional instinct. Universal healthcare remains a defining national achievement, but successive governments often prioritized preserving the image of the system over confronting its structural weaknesses. Aging populations, staffing shortages, fragmented administration, and expanding demand steadily lengthened wait times.

Rather than embracing substantial reform, governments frequently settled for incremental adjustments. Political consensus rewarded preserving existing structures even when outcomes deteriorated.

Stability again took precedence over adaptation.

Immigration policy reveals another long-term pattern. Canada has benefited enormously from immigration throughout its history. Economic growth, demographic renewal, and cultural diversity have all been strengthened by newcomers. But immigration cannot substitute for productivity.

When labour shortages, housing shortages, fiscal pressures, and demographic decline are all addressed primarily through population growth, governments risk postponing deeper structural reforms. Immigration becomes a management tool rather than one component of a broader national strategy.

That approach can generate impressive headline growth while leaving underlying productivity stagnant.

Canada increasingly found itself measuring success by population instead of output. The country's political culture reinforced these tendencies.

Canadian governments generally reward consensus, compromise, and incrementalism. Those qualities can be strengths during stable periods. They become weaknesses when structural change is required. Major national projects often take decades. Regulatory systems grow increasingly complex. Jurisdictional disputes multiply. Political leaders promise transformation while governing cautiously.

Over time, caution becomes ideology.

Even Canada's federal structure contributes to this pattern. Provinces possess significant constitutional authority, often making coordinated national action slow and politically difficult. While federalism protects regional diversity, it can also encourage fragmentation. National strategies frequently become negotiations among competing provincial interests rather than unified long-term plans.

Other federations face similar challenges.

Few embrace them quite so comfortably.

Foreign policy reflects the broader pattern. Canada has historically preferred multilateral institutions, international rules, and coalition politics. Those commitments have often produced diplomatic influence beyond Canada's size.

But influence is not sovereignty.

When military capacity declines, industrial capacity weakens, and economic leverage narrows, diplomacy increasingly depends upon relationships maintained by stronger allies.

Canada became exceptionally skilled at working within systems designed largely by others.

That is useful.

It is not the same as leading them.

None of this means Canada is uniquely incompetent. Quite the opposite. The country consistently ranks among the safest, wealthiest, and most stable democracies in the world. Canadians built functioning institutions, maintained peaceful transfers of power, welcomed millions of immigrants, and avoided many of the upheavals that plagued other nations.

Those achievements deserve recognition.

The criticism is different.

Canada became so comfortable with stability that it gradually surrendered ambition.

Whenever difficult choices appeared, governments often selected the option that required the least disruption. Whenever strategic independence demanded significant investment, dependency looked more affordable. Whenever long-term competitiveness conflicted with short-term political comfort, comfort usually won.

No single decision transformed Canada into a junior partner.

Thousands of small ones did.

Perhaps that is why so many Canadians today sense something has changed without quite identifying what. The country remains prosperous by global standards, yet increasingly struggles to build infrastructure quickly, improve productivity, modernize defence, expand housing, commercialize innovation, or project influence independently abroad.

These are not isolated policy failures.

They are the accumulated consequences of a political culture that consistently preferred adaptation to leadership.

Whether that path was inevitable is ultimately unknowable. History offers no controlled experiments.

But it is difficult to escape one conclusion.

Canada did not become dependent because fate demanded it.

It became dependent because, for more than 150 years, dependency was repeatedly the easiest choice.

Eventually, the easiest choice became the national habit.

And habits, more than constitutions or speeches, are what determine the future of nations.