How Is This Even Going To Work?
Reflections on an integrated continent going to (trade) war with itself.
I haven’t posted in this space for awhile. Partly because I’ve been swamped at work, and partly because I’m still processing…all of this. As the self-appointed Canadian ambassador to urban America, the idea of a trade war with the United States is almost unfathomable. But here we are.
I’m not going to focus on trade policy per se, even though the trade war is unfolding as I write (I’ll do that elsewhere). I want to talk about cultural (and economic) integration between Canada and the United States to set the stage for this incredibly self-defeating conflict being foisted upon us.
It used to be fashionable for a certain type of Canadian activist to fret about how the US border is a mere invisible line that was of no use to protect Canada from American cultural integration. There was something to that, though it was also kind of a pointless lament. We live just north of the cultural epicenter of the world. We can close our eyes and ears, but it’s still there. Besides, we like a lot of what passes through that invisible line.
We’re also incredibly similar, as much as some nationalists may protest. In a literal sense, it’s just true. You can walk through the forest of Minnesota into Manitoba and you’re not going to see a line. You’ll probably die trying, but your last sight will be a thicket of trees – and maybe some wolves. In a figurative sense, well, Donald Trump recently called the Canadian border an “artificially drawn line.”
We have a shared history going back further than the founding of either country, we’ve fought shoulder to shoulder in two world wars, among other conflicts. It’s hard to find two closer allies on this earth.
The notion of a hard border between the two countries is relatively modern. When the United States passed the Johnson Reed Act (otherwise known as the Immigration Act of 1924), Canada was excluded from the new immigration restrictions (as was Mexico). In 1960, Canadian immigrants made up ten percent of the American population. Canada wasn’t so much treated as a different country, but a two-way pressure relief valve. Americans could flee here when times were bad, and Canadians would go the other way when opportunities were lacking.
People used to cross the border fluidly until the 20th century without much thought. It was an artificial line, after all, so one might simply decide to move a few hundred miles (or kilometers) south to buy some land, or to take a job. During the Vietnam war, 40,000 Canadian kids went south to join the war and 40,000 American kids would moved south to avoid it. Interestingsymmetry.
Most Canadian celebrities spend at least some of the year living stateside, as do a large swath of our retirees. There’s a whole cottage industry around helping affluent Canadians move to Florida (for western Canadians, Arizona). No one seems to complain about Snowbirds crossing the border. They spend a lot of money there, after all.
While our border has thickened since 9/11 – inflicting deep wounds on border communities like Niagara Falls (Ontario) and, even more so, Niagara Falls (New York), ambitious Canadians still regularly stream south. We even have a name for it: brain drain. Canadians still flock south – young and old - to the benefit of American firms and the Treasury Department.
You can really see it when you spend a lot of time stateside. I left the continent this year for the first time since I was a teenager. I joked that it was my first time being a tourist. In some respects, it was. I’ve been to 42 of the lower 48 states. Unless you’re riding a moose or wearing a Team Canada sweater, no one has any idea you’re Canadian until they’ve heard you say a-boot a few times. Even then, people often just assume I’m from the Upper Midwest. When they do realize you’re Canadian, its met with roughly the same level of curiosity as being from another region of the United States unless people are particularly depressed about the state of American politics at the moment.
What really fascinates me about North American cultural integration isn’t what’s common throughout, but the regional variations. You’ve probably heard stories of properties that straddle both sides of the border, since they pre-date modern border controls. Or geographical oddities like the Northwest Angle, where the only way to get from a tiny sliver of Minnesota to any other part of America by land is through Canada. Or you might have heard the joke about Windsor being South Detroit (with apologies to Journey). And, no doubt, even if you don’t live by the border, you’re aware that the vast majority of Canadians live within a hundred miles of the United States.
These are pretty well-known factoids, but I don’t think they really get at the level of cultural and economic integration between regions that are bisected by the border. Remember the old NAFTA Superhighway conspiracy theory from the early Aughts? Don’t bother Googling it. It was just a highway expansion between Winnipeg and Mexico City that never happened. I lived in Winnipeg for many years, and spent a lot of time driving south through the Plains. I always had a good laugh about this driving down I-29. The reason, of course, is that Winnipeg is an important cog in North America’s distribution system, conveniently located for both east-west and north-south travel. Though much of that east-west travel goes through the United States, since it’s often faster to go through the United States to get from Canada to Canada.
As a kid who grew up cross-border shopping, I always had some idea of the level of integration between our two countries. But I didn’t quite appreciate the level of regional integration.
I didn’t really appreciate it until I started travelling outside of the coasts. America’s big coastal cities are such melting pots that regional cultures are muted. But when you cross the border from Winnipeg to North Dakota, you realize pretty quickly that while you’ve left the country, you haven’t left the culture. At least, not all of it.
The first time I drove to North Dakota I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find somewhere to watch the hockey game that night. I knew UND had a top-flight hockey program, but I didn’t know whether the state was as hockey mad as, say, Minnesota. Almost immediately upon crossing the border I saw hockey themed advertisements. North Dakota is also the only place outside of Manitoba where I’ve heard the song One Great City (aka I Hate Winnipeg) by the Weakerthans playing at a bar (multiple times). North Dakota is American, but it’s also practically Manitoba. While you notice some differences on the other side of that invisible line, the cultural difference between crossing to Manitoba is nothing compared to the culture shock someone leaving North Dakota for the first time would feel in Florida or New York.
Generally speaking, it’s hard to tell which region Canadians are from. There are a few distinct regional accents, but you’d have a hard time guessing where most born and bred Canadians were raised without some hints. One potential hint is which hockey team they cheer for, but it’s not especially reliable. Western Canadian teams are a bit of a hint (though if you say you’re an Oilers fan, I won’t rule out Saskatchewan roots). The Leafs and Canadiens are a crapshoot, since they’ve got fans all over (and Torontonians have diverse hockey loyalties). Football is a different story. If someone tells me they’re a Lions fan, I assume they’re from Windsor. Diehard Bills fan? I’ll guess you’re from somewhere between London (Ontario) and Windsor. Sure, it’s not a perfect predictor. But neither is being a Vancouver Canucks fan.
I’m so used to crossing the border that it still hasn’t really dawned on me that my economy might be in conflict with the one I most often visit. I thought about taking a quick trip to Florida recently. That same day the Government of Canada hinted that it might put a tariff on Florida orange juice in the event of a tariff war. It would be strange to spend tourist dollars in a state explicitly being targeted by Canadian tariffs in an attempt to show Americans what they stand to lose from a trade war. I then thought about Nashville, since it’s one of the few non-Florida American destination WestJet services from Toronto. The Government of Ontario has claimed it might stop purchasing bourbon as part of our trade-war countermeasures. Should I spend my tourist dollars in Tennessee, then? Doesn’t feel quite right.
It's hard to imagine what a thicker border would look like. Car components typically cross the border seven or eight times during the construction process. I think back to anecdotes about post-Soviet economies that made specific niche components that were no longer needed after the fall of the USSR. The end of communism was, of course, very good. But there were transition pains. Even in the unlikely event that American re-shoring from Canada was somehow better for either party (using existing factories that already have the skilled labour in place seems better than trying to build new factories with full employment while you’re trying to wrestle down inflation), the transition would be rocky. Unlike the transition from communism in the former Soviet Union, it's hard to see how what comes after free trade is better, unless we're all keen on patriotically paying higher prices. If I remember the last few years correctly, I don't think anyone really wants that.
While there would be broad costs to North American disintegration, some of the localized costs would be even steeper. Think back to the example of Niagara Falls. There used to be robust two-way tourism between the two before 9/11. The thickening border made it more difficult for American tourists. You’d think that would have hit the Canadian side harder. Instead, Niagara region has pressed ahead as its economy has diversified in part through expansion (and improvement!) of its wine industry. Niagara Falls, New York, on the other hand, is kind of sad. I say that as someone who love New York State, including Western New York. It just hasn’t recovered.
Now think of Windsor and Detroit. If tariffs stunt two-way trade between Canada and the United States, a lot of the components that flow over the border might get replaced by American parts. There’s no guarantee those will be built in Michigan. In fact, it seems quite plausible to me that this would accelerate the movement of auto production away from union friendly states like Michigan towards right to work states. It’s hard to shoot Ontario without hitting Michigan. This could be a blow to Detroit’s hard-fought comeback, which seemed unlikely even a decade ago. I guess I am talking a bit about trade policy. Sorry.
It seems likely to me that some form of trade war is coming, whether anyone really wants it. I hope it’ll be more of a show trial than a real trade war. Posturing to seem tough. But even a limited trade war could have unforeseen consequences. Hopefully nothing too disruptive. I’d like to keep my post as unofficial ambassador to urban America a little longer without guilt (or friction). We’ve got a pretty good thing going here, guys. Hopefully we can keep it together. Disintegration won't be easy, and won't end well for anyone.