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How Canada should operate in a TACO world

In politics, you can rarely put your faith in absolutes. Especially maxims coined by Wall Street traders. But this one has merit. After an extensive analysis, Bloomberg Economics recently showed that U.S. President Donald Trump only follows through on his tariff threats a mere quarter of the time.

So. Make that almost always chickens out.

No surprise, we’ve seen a market correction. The bluster has been priced in. Unlike this time last year, Trump’s outlandish pronouncements no longer carry the same power to send markets into freefall or plunge nation-states into panic.

And Trump’s Truth Social tantrum against Canada last weekend was a case in point. He threatened to slap a 100 per cent tariff on Canadian goods coming into the United States if Canada “makes a deal with China.”

National crisis? Emergency press conference? Hardly. Prime Minister Mark Carney barely gave the threat the time of day. Instead, Canada–U.S. Trade Minister Dominic LeBlanc calmly issued a statement, did some quiet behind-the-scenes work to clarify that no free trade agreement with China was in the works, and, almost on cue, the threat appeared to evaporate.

In the subsequent days, U.S. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent, who is about as mediagenic as a Madame Tussauds wax figure, has issued similar declarations, warning Carney not to “pick a fight” with Trump. But such behaviour is now table stakes.

So, the question then becomes: how does Canada operate in a TACO world? Crucially, how do we leverage what we know about Trump into the upcoming CUSMA negotiations?

Answering those questions requires a clarification. The critical point about TACO isn’t that Trump never follows through. He didn’t chicken out of his mass deportation strategy. He didn’t chicken out of steel and aluminum tariffs against Canada, nor from the Venezuela raid.

The point is that at least half of what he says is pure, unmitigated spectacle. And deliberately so.

He weaponizes that spectacle as a negotiating strategy. As CBC’s Andrew Chang explains, it begins with “maximalist threat — like, 100 per cent tariffs — then, he lets the threat simmer to create negotiating leverage. He then pulls the tariff threat back — with delays or decreases.”

The path forward, therefore, rests on (to steal a line from the prime minister’s excellent Davos speech) our ability to “name reality.” Especially reality that is eminently predictable.

It’s not a question of if Trump will threaten to tear up CUSMA for leverage in the coming weeks and months; it is when. And this isn’t just a problem for the PM. Every premier, every union leader, every CEO needs to be prepared. If the next threat triggers a collective sky-is-falling mentality, we will all suffer. This is coming. We may not like it. But this is the reality we’re in.

Overreacting to Trump’s provocations, especially in the media and political commentary, only amplifies his perceived influence. Canada’s task is not to stop them, but to ensure they no longer dictate our behaviour.

Amid the daily churn and chaos of the Trump administration, there are few moments that invite a pat on the back. These are, by any measure, grave times. But if you don’t acknowledge progress where it appears, you risk forgetting what worked.

There may have been some predictable noise in the media, but as a country, Canada did not overreact to these latest threats.

That is something worth noting and celebrating. More importantly, it offers a template for what comes next.

The coming CUSMA negotiations will be long and bruising. Trump may posture like a bully, but Canada has shown that when his threats are met without panic, they often retreat.

If that makes him a chicken, it’s only because we’ve learned not to run.

Canada needs to keep its eye on Marco Rubio

U.S. President Donald Trump’s Venezuelan adventure has generated a great deal of ink about the so-called Donroe doctrine. Commentators are eager to impose some form of coherence on a wide-ranging and often contradictory series of foreign-policy actions. But the subject resists.

The rhetoric of isolationism clashes with the covert action of a Delta Force raid to capture a foreign leader on foreign soil. The label of “president of peace” is not exactly consistent with gangster statecraft that threatens to acquire Greenland by any means necessary. Nor does it sit comfortably alongside the gutting of the State Department and foreign aid, the casual lobbing of tariffs, and what has become the habitual mistreatment of NATO allies.

Ideology is not, and never was, the way to understand the deeply transactional behaviour of Trump and the MAGA movement. The better lens is personality. And there is no personality more ascendant in MAGA politics today than Secretary of State Marco Rubio.

Rubio was reportedly the most vocal proponent of the Maduro raid and now finds himself more front and centre in the MAGA media ecosystem than ever. Having the spotlight is always a dangerous thing with this president. But Rubio offsets that risk with a well-practiced grovelling to Trump’s “genius” at every conceivable opportunity — something that, as Dexter Filkins’s excellent profile in The New Yorker reveals, is entirely consistent with Rubio’s past behaviour. Filkins quotes a Miami political figure who puts it bluntly: “The one constant in Marco Rubio’s career is that he has betrayed every mentor and every principle he’s ever had in order to claim power for himself.”

An individual comfortable with logical contradiction, willing to go wherever the winds appear to be blowing, seems to be table stakes for membership in Trump’s cabinet. But it isn’t just Rubio’s flexibility on principle that has drawn attention. It is his ability to translate an unfocused and ever-changing foreign-policy posture, one driven largely by grievance, greed, and corruption, into something that sounds coherent and palatable to the American public.

Maddening as it may be, Canada needs to keep its eye on Rubio, on this court intrigue, and on where he is steering U.S. policy. It is never too early for a prediction of this magnitude: in my view, Rubio will be the Republican Party’s presidential nominee in 2028.

At this stage, the logic is simple. Rubio is not just, as Filkins notes, “at least in theory, the most powerful American diplomat since Henry Kissinger” (not a particularly flattering comparison), he is also head and shoulders the most effective communicator in the administration.

More importantly, his politics are a growth proposition. As Trump 2.0 approaches its one-year anniversary on Jan. 20, the reality is that Trump is a deeply unpopular second-term president. His favourability ratings are in the gutter, and his promise to “make America affordable again” does not, on the evidence, appear to be materializing, despite all the strong-arming of economists and nation-states alike.

Many assume Trump’s vice-president will be the natural successor. But the fact is JD Vance cannot grow the MAGA coalition or attract voters from the centre. He can only consolidate its most extreme elements.

Rubio, by contrast, may alienate some of the same far-right voters that Vance satisfies, but he can attract more centrist Americans, and he brings with him the added benefit of locking down Florida.

While he has played the loyal soldier and publicly stated that he would back Vance should the vice-president seek the nomination, a great deal can change between now and 2028. Momentum for Rubio’s candidacy will only accelerate if Republicans suffer a decisive defeat in the midterm elections this fall — a result that would intensify the party’s search for a figure who can expand the coalition.

Ultimately, Rubio’s rise is an indication of wag-the-dog foreign policy. It is a tried-and-tested political calculus, long a presidential playbook: when you are unpopular at home, you go abroad.

For Canada, that means more chaos ahead, more supply-chain disruptions, more conflicts, deeper NATO fractures, the works.

Marco Rubio will be the man tasked with stickhandling it all. And my bet is that he will also be the man Canada will be dealing with once his boss’s term draws to an end.

Canadian politics in 2026: Two fault lines that could alter the landscape

The year-in-review phase is over. It’s time to look ahead.

In Canadian politics, 2025 will be remembered as the year of Trump. In 2026, I regret to predict, very little will change. In my last column, I argued that the U.S. midterms — and President Donald Trump’s rhetoric in the lead-up — will turn Canada into an increasingly convenient political target, spelling trouble for our economy and particularly for the looming CUSMA renegotiations.

That is a seismic risk. But it is far from the only political story Canadians should be watching in the year ahead.

As 2026 dawns, here are two more consequential political fault lines to keep an eye on.

Quebec and the shadow of a referendum

Quebecers head to the polls in October, unless Premier François Legault pulls the plug earlier.

Despite Legault’s year-end insistence that Parti Québécois support is overstated and his laughable claim that his CAQ Party can recover, the writing is on the wall. Think Justin Trudeau in 2024-2025. Once a political narrative gets to this stage, it sets like concrete.

Perhaps even more beneficial for the PQ’s chances of forming a government, however, is the implosion of the Quebec Liberal party following Pablo Rodriguez’s resignation amid serious allegations of corruption.

Unless the Liberals rapidly find a credible, unifying leader, the path to a referendum becomes far more plausible as the PQ have promised a vote on sovereignty within its first term if elected.

History — Brexit in particular — teaches us these moments are not to be trifled with. Campaigns harden positions. Foreign actors interfere. Events spiral. And the consequences of Quebec breaking away from the federation would be economically and politically catastrophic.

Not to be outdone, in Alberta, a referendum looms with Elections Alberta approving a referendum question that now requires a petition with just 178,000 signatures to trigger a vote. In my view, the odds of a sovereign Alberta remain remote. But after a year marked by rare national unity, the renewed gravitational pull of separatist politics — in more than one province — is a reminder of how quickly the pendulum can swing. And how fragile our federation can feel when it does.

Party infighting: The real battles are internal 

In 2026, the most consequential fights may not be between parties, but within them.

For the Conservatives, the risk is straightforward. Pierre Poilievre must prevent further floor crossings that could hand Mark Carney a majority government. If more MPs defect, Poilievre’s leadership will come under immediate threat, particularly ahead of a leadership review that would suddenly feel far less academic.

For the Liberals, unity may look deceptively strong following the additions of Michael Ma and Chris d’Entremont. But the Carney version of Liberalism has yet to be fully tested.

Stephen Guilbeault’s departure from cabinet may be the first of several moments of internal friction as Carney rolls out a more fiscally conservative governing agenda. Watch for more Trudeau-era ministers to decide to spend more time with their families.

But here’s the good news: infighting may be bad for parties, but it’s good for everyday Canadians.

Rigid partisanship serves ideologues and party elites, not voters. Most Canadians don’t care what jersey a politician wears. They care whether their lives are getting more affordable and their streets safer.

We’ve already seen the trend. In 2025, voters who once leaned Conservative moved toward Mark Carney. In the U.S., voters who supported Trump backed Zohran Mamdani. These are not anomalies, they are signals. The era of automatic party loyalty is eroding.

2026 will belong to politicians who can move with that reality, who are willing to shed tribal instincts, adapt their language, and focus relentlessly on results over ideology. That is the real political story of the year ahead.

Canada is the perfect target for Trump’s midterm survival strategy

Let’s start with a few assumptions.

U.S. President Donald Trump has reached his political ceiling.

He will never again enjoy the high-water mark he hit on election night last year. What remains is a slow, steady leaking of his support — drips at first, then larger spills as the inevitable crises he provokes roll in.

Historically, polls have understated Trump’s support. This time, I believe they are closer to the mark — not because they’ve suddenly become more accurate, but because Trump finds himself in a position he has never managed to successfully navigate: owning a struggling economy.

And yet, he promised Americans the moon — a booming, cheaper, more prosperous future. That promise will go unfulfilled. And as every unpopular president eventually learns, the midterms are when voters stop listening to excuses and start demanding results.

In short, 2026 will be a very bad year for Donald Trump.

But he won’t go down without a fight.

It’s impossible to overstate how damaging it is for any U.S. administration when their party stands to lose both the House of Representatives and the Senate — an outcome that now seems more likely than not. It is tantamount to governing with both hands tied behind your back.

The president’s advisers understand the gravity of this situation. Trump’s chief of staff has already telegraphed their plan: instead of hiding an unpopular president, they intend to nationalize the midterms around him. He will campaign like it’s 2024 all over again.

Which brings us to what all of this means for Canada. In reality, there are only two options ahead.

Option one: Trump reverses course. He halts most tariffs, normalizes trade relations and frees American consumers from the self-inflicted price shocks. This would presumably help him politically.

We can dream.

Option two: He blames Canada. He doubles down and escalates tariffs.

I would bet the farm on option two.

Whether Trump likes it or not, the 2026 midterms will be a referendum on the state of the U.S. economy. And Trump’s core challenge is not the performance of the stock market. Wealthy Americans are doing just fine. His real vulnerability lies with low- and middle-income households — the voters who decide elections and who feel the pain of every grocery bill.

Those Americans don’t care if Nvidia posts a record quarter. Their lives are getting more expensive by the day.

And far from changing his spots, admitting that tariffs have helped create this affordability crisis, Trump — especially on the campaign trail — is likely to lean even harder into the narrative that has always underpinned his politics: that America is the victim, that someone else is taking advantage of them.

In that narrative, Canada will be in the crosshairs.

And we will be in the crosshairs because of who we are.

No matter how warmly Trump may speak about our prime minister, Canada remains fundamentally out of step with the administration’s ideological world view. As JD Vance’s social-media feed reminds us regularly, Canada is held up as the textbook example of liberal excess — a country too socially progressive and too immigration friendly.

But the clearest signal of this shift is found in the administration’s update to America’s national security strategy. I will spare readers the tedium, but the thrust is unmistakable: nations that once counted as America’s closest friends are now cast as potential adversaries. Old alliances are disposable.

And in this world view, Canada becomes something between a bargaining chip and a vassal state.

Which only serves to underline the point: the politics of grievance fuel the politics of tariffs. And Canada is a convenient target. That vulnerability will only grow as the 2026 midterms approach.

A president campaigning on grievance, tariffs, and “America First” will see CUSMA not as a stabilizing framework but as yet another arena to extract concessions and manufacture conflict.

If there is a silver lining, it is this: should Republicans face significant losses in the midterms, the political logic of tariffs will shift. As the party turns toward the 2028 presidential race, there will be enormous pressure on its nominee to campaign on an economy that is stronger, cheaper and growing — a difficult proposition with self-inflicted tariffs still in place.

A sliver of hope, to be sure. But in a Trump-dominated environment, even a sliver is worth something.

Mark Carney’s pipeline marks a shift from values-based trade-offs to economically grounded ones

“This is Canada working. This is co-operative federalism.”

That is how Prime Minister Mark Carney framed the recent memorandum of understanding between Ottawa and Alberta to build a pipeline to Canada’s west coast.

Credit where credit is due: it’s a sharp line.

But it didn’t take long for rhetoric to collide with reality.

Just hours after Carney and Alberta Premier Danielle Smith were smiling for cameras in downtown Calgary, B.C. Premier David Eby denounced the deal, insisting his government could not support any arrangement that revives tanker traffic on the province’s coastline. He went further, labelling the pipeline project an “energy vampire” that would drain federal, Indigenous, and provincial resources.

What our optimistic prime minister calls “co-operative federalism” might, in practice, be better described as “waterbed federalism”: push down to accommodate one province and righteous anger rises up elsewhere. Sometimes in the form of a premier. Sometimes from within your own caucus.

Maddening as it is, this is the Canada we have.

And while critics may wish to pretend otherwise, no one in the Carney government is under any illusion about this reality and the risks it presents. They are simply choosing to engage with them anyway.

Because the bet Carney is making is straightforward: that he can outmuscle the opponents of this project with the administrative force of the new Major Projects Office, the regulatory and convening tools of the federal government, and the broad public support — across parties and regions — that wants this built.

But make no mistake: it is still a bet. A big one.

And his most important instrument in executing it isn’t some new legal tool — rather, it’s a new political language. Not the virtues-forward moralism of the Trudeau years, but a more pragmatic, materially focused economic nationalism.

Which brings us to the larger picture.

This pipeline is not just about soothing Alberta. It is about diversifying our export markets, loosening our dependence on the United States, and opening pathways to new partners.

That ambition requires a shift from “values-based” trade-offs to economically grounded ones — both at home and abroad.

Of all the globe-trotting Carney has done in his time as prime minister, nothing has been as concrete or consequential as the agreement he signed with the United Arab Emirates earlier this month. Under that deal, Canada and the UAE will jointly invest more than $1 billion to expand critical mineral processing here at home. More remarkably still, the UAE has pledged up to $70 billion in investment across Canada’s economy.

That is genuine economic statecraft. Not just foreign financing, but foreign partners sitting at the table, sharing risk, supply-chain exposure, and industrial ambition.

Of course, such deals come with complications. Carney was asked about reports the UAE is fuelling ethnic violence in Sudan, a grim and legitimate concern.

But if Canada wants the massive international capital required to build the infrastructure of our future, we must accept an uncomfortable truth: new partners do not come without new complexities.

This is part of a broader pivot, not only away from American dependence, but toward a more hard-headed, globally competitive posture.

For a man who literally wrote a book about values, this shift might seem jarring to some. Even politically hazardous.

They could not be more wrong.

In fact, any opportunity that allows Mark Carney to differentiate himself from Justin Trudeau is a political gift. Every Trudeau-era cabinet minister who steps aside, every change in message, tone, or emphasis, every move away from moralistic internationalism toward economic pragmatism — signals to voters: this is not the same Liberal party.

Carney is consolidating his power and reshaping the party in his own image.

That is not a vulnerability. Most parties struggle for years to rid themselves of the lingering scent of a former leader. Carney is doing it with purpose and speed.

And that matters.

Because the prime minister’s entire project — the pipeline, the global investment strategy, the shift away from the Trudeau brand — will depend on whether Canadians see not continuity, but reinvention, a government defined not by moral posture, but by a commitment to material progress.