Canadians Have Always Hated Americans

[Ed. Note: To all of my Canadian readers, please accept my apologies if you find this essay offensive. Please take part of it as “tongue in cheek” humour, and remember, I am a Canadian citizen as well! I love you all!]

Maybe “hate” is too strong a word. I am pretty sure, though, Canadians have always thought themselves superior to Americans—nicer, smarter, more decent (well, that might be true).

When I first met my wife, who is a full-fledged Canadian, one of the first things she made clear to me was that Canada won the War of 1812 against the Americans. What? I didn’t even know America fought a war with Canada in 1812. Apparently, they did (even though Canada was not even a country at the time). Who cares? Well, apparently Canadians do, because it's baked into their national folklore. They trot it out as proof of their plucky underdog status, repelling those aggressive Yanks who dared to dream of manifest destiny stretching all the way to the Arctic Circle. Never mind that it was technically Britain doing the heavy lifting—Canadians claim the win like they invented hockey (which, okay, they probably did).

On several other occasions during our courting, it was made clear she believed that many Americans were basically heathens, and that most of the world did not like Americans, but adored Canadians. “Canadians are so nice,” she would say, “They are so kind and unselfish.” Right. As if politeness is a superpower that shields them from the realities of geopolitics. She'd point to how Canadians backpack around Europe, sewing flags on their packs to avoid being mistaken for Americans, because apparently, the world loves a Canuck but rolls its eyes at a Yank. It's that classic Canadian humility—bragging about how humble they are.

Look at all of the poverty in America, and look at how nice it is in Canada: National health care, consideration for the homeless, less hardcore drug addiction. (Is that true? Actually, Canada's opioid crisis is no joke, but their social programs do cushion the blow better than some US states.) It's the land of "sorry" and subsidized everything, where winters are brutal, but the government handouts keep you warm. But here's where the irony kicks in: That vaunted Canadian quality of life? It's not just maple magic—it's propped up by the very Americans they love to look down on.

But here's the punchline that always gets lost in the narrative: Canada's "betterness" isn't some innate moral superiority or a gift from the moose gods. It's largely thanks to their big, brash neighbour to the south—the United States—playing the role of the world's reluctant bodyguard. Think about it: While Americans are shelling out a whopping 3.5% of their GDP on defense (that's over $800 billion a year, folks, enough to buy every Canadian a lifetime supply of Tim Hortons coffee and still have change for a donut), Canada coasts along at a leisurely 1.4% (around $30 billion USD). That's like the US being the overworked parent paying the mortgage, car insurance, and college tuition, while Canada gets to splurge on spa days, organic kale smoothies, and that extra layer of universal niceness for everyone. Without the US's hefty military umbrella, Canada would have to crank up its own spending, meaning less cash for those enviable social programs that make them feel so superior.

Take NORAD, for instance—that's the North American Aerospace Defence Command, established back in 1958 during the height of Cold War paranoia, it's a binational setup where the US and Canada share the skies—one with stars and stripes, the other with a leaf. The US foots most of the bill and provides the bulk of it—think advanced radar systems, stealth fighter jets, and that ever-watchful, high-tech spy eye on Russian bombers flirting with the Arctic Circle. In return, Canada offers . . . well, prime real estate and a handful of personnel. Their vast, frozen north acts as a natural buffer, giving the US early warning against threats that could otherwise knock on America's door first. It's mutual, sure, but let's be real: Without Uncle Sam's muscle and tech wizardry, Canada might have to rethink that "peacekeeping" vibe and actually pony up for their own full-scale military arsenal. Instead, they get to redirect those savings into universal healthcare (which, by the way, Americans subsidize indirectly through pharmaceutical R&D—most groundbreaking new drugs come from US innovation, and Canada rides the coattails with price controls that keep costs low up north—but, of course, us shrews may not see all that as much of an advantage).

And don't get me started on NATO. Both countries are founding members, locked in since 1949. But the US is the one consistently hitting—and exceeding—that 2% GDP spending target, while Canada has been dragging its skates, hovering below it for years. They've pledged to catch up soon—maybe by 2035—but in the meantime, the alliance's Article 5 means any attack on Canada is treated as an attack on the US. That's not "protection" like a mafia shakedown; it's a partnership where the US's global might deters bad actors from even glancing northward. Result? Canada enjoys lower crime rates, fewer geopolitical headaches, and more budget room for things like pristine infrastructure, robust welfare nets, and those feel-good policies that reduce visible poverty.

Less poverty? Check—though let's not pretend Canada doesn't have its own urban underbellies. Better homeless support? Arguably, with programs that actually house people instead of just shuffling them along. Fewer hardcore addicts? Debatable, especially with fentanyl flowing in, but their social safety nets sure help mitigate the fallout, and guess who's enabling that fiscal freedom? The US, by keeping the continental peace so Canada doesn't have to.

Economically, it's the same lopsided story wrapped in a bow of mutual benefit. The US is Canada's largest trading partner—heck, they're each other's biggest customer, with billions crossing the border daily. Under deals like USMCA (the sequel to NAFTA, because everything needs a reboot these days), Canada exports oil, lumber, and lots of other goodies south, while soaking up American investments that create jobs and stability. Canada supplies critical minerals for US defence tech (uranium, rare earths—you name it, they've got it buried under all that Canadian tundra), but the US pours money into Canadian industries, from tech hubs in Toronto to energy projects in Alberta. Without that intertwined economy, Canada's "nicer" society might not look quite as nice.

Now, layer on the historical baggage, and you see why this superiority complex persists. That War of 1812 thing? It's not just a quirky anecdote; it's a cornerstone of Canadian identity, symbolizing resistance against American expansionism. American forces invaded what was then British North America, aiming to annex it amid grievances over trade and impressment. Local militias, British troops, and Indigenous allies pushed back, burning the White House in retaliation (a fact Canadians love to remind us of, as if it were their idea). The war ended in a stalemate with the Treaty of Ghent, but Canadians spin it as a victory because they didn't lose territory. This narrative fuels the "we're the polite survivors" myth, ignoring how the US's post-war growth actually stabilized the border and opened trade doors that benefited both.

Fast-forward to today, August 2025, and this age-old superiority complex is bubbling over amid the latest tariff tantrum. With the US slapping 35% duties on some Canadian goods (steel, autos, you know the drill—non-USMCA compliant stuff that's got everyone in a tizzy), Canadians are in full "Elbows Up" mode. This grassroots movement, inspired by hockey legend Gordie Howe's tough style, has folks boycotting US products, avoiding Florida vacations, and even holding border rallies chanting defiance. Polls are at historic lows: Only 34% of Canadians hold positive views of the US, down from over 50% last year, with 59% now seeing America as their biggest threat—biggest threat???!!!—up from a mere 20% in 2019. Social media is ablaze with "betrayal" talk, and boycotts are real: 80% say they're buying more Canadian goods, 66% skipping US travel.

The average Canadian might shell out an extra $183 to $244 a year from retaliatory tariffs (Canada hit back with 25% on $30 billion in US imports like orange juice and appliances), but compared to the post-COVID inflation nightmare, it's chump change. This is what all of the fuss is about? $183 to $244 extra burden a year, ultimately due to Trump's tariffs? You’ve got to be kidding.

Remember that "COVID nonsense"—lockdowns, supply chain snarls, and policy blunders that led to rampant inflation worldwide—Canada's food prices jumped 3-5% this year alone, pushing a family of four's annual grocery bill up $802. A decent dinner for two at a mid-range spot? Easily $150-$250 now, up from $100-$150 pre-2020, thanks to lingering disruptions in shipping, labour, and energy. Tariffs adding $300 or even $1,000 per person annually (if you factor in indirect GDP hits of 0.5-1%) pales next to that. Yet Canadians are "losing their cookies" over it, framing the US as the villain while ignoring how global factors—including shadowy "globalist agendas"—stoke these divisions. It's like blaming your neighbour for a leaky roof when the storm came from elsewhere.

This emotional flare-up smells of manipulation: Media hype, political rhetoric, and social algorithms firing up "pride" and "resolve" to distract from real issues. As a shrew observer might note, it's classic divide-and-conquer—pitting allies against each other while bigger forces pull strings.

My Canadian wife still ribs me about American "heathens," but deep down, even she admits the symbiosis. Canadians aren't haters; they're just masters of the humblebrag, perched on a pedestal partly built by American grit. Maybe it's time for a cross-border Molson/Bud Light summit: acknowledge the mutual wins, drop the superiority schtick, and remember that without each other, we'd both be a little less "great." After all, who else is going to keep the continent safe from invading polar bears—or worse, bad trade deals? Let's thaw this frost before it turns into another ice age.