Back in February, when Donald Trump imposed sweeping tariffs on Canadian aluminum, lumber, and electric vehicles—while wrapping them in the usual “America First” rhetoric—his supporters hailed the move as tough, decisive, and long overdue.
But to anyone with even a basic grasp of geopolitics, or the faintest feel for the direction of Canadian domestic politics, it was clear that the move was strategically tone-deaf.
Canada was not drifting away from the United States; it was already moving toward a recalibration of its defense and trade posture.
Trump’s tariffs didn’t force that shift—they nearly derailed it. In what was a near-perfect violation of Sun Tzu’s maxim that “the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting,” Trump opted to fight—and in so doing, made it harder to achieve precisely the goals he claimed to be pursuing.
The U.S.-Canada Divorce, Thanks to Donald Trump
Let’s start with the obvious: Canada is not China. Nor is it Mexico. It is a NORAD ally, a G7 partner, a Five-Eyes partner, and a foundational element of the North American defense-industrial base. Yes, during Justin Trudeau’s tenure, Canada chronically underperformed on defense. Its procurement system became a global punchline. And the rhetoric out of Ottawa was often insufferably smug. But that never made Canada a strategic adversary. It made it an underperforming ally—one that required a mix of pressure and partnership, not a full-blown economic assault.
And make no mistake, that’s exactly what Trump launched. The across-the-board “Liberation Day” tariffs—10% on all imports, including from Canada—and the additional duties on specific Canadian products were not calibrated instruments of statecraft. They were campaign stunts disguised as policy. And they arrived at precisely the wrong moment. As Trudeau’s Liberals limped toward electoral defeat, Canada was poised for a political transition that—regardless of party—would have ushered in a more serious, defense-focused posture. The result of the April election, a Liberal minority under Mark Carney, has already signaled a desire to re-engage on NATO burden-sharing, Arctic security, and North American defense integration. Trump’s tariffs didn’t cause this. If anything, they complicated it.
There’s a reason this feels so counterproductive. Trump’s instincts on allies and trade are often directionally sound. He’s right that post-Cold War multilateralism has calcified into a kind of ritualized freeloading. He’s right that the U.S. has subsidized others’ security for too long. And he’s certainly right that trade relationships should serve national interests, not abstract liberal norms. But instincts aren’t enough. Strategy requires more than gut feeling. It requires timing, discipline, and the ability to distinguish between friends and adversaries.
Instead, what we got was a sledgehammer approach. At the very moment when Ottawa was beginning to rethink its defense priorities—because of Russia’s long war, China’s Arctic advances, and the collapsing credibility of the Trudeau era—Trump lit a match and called it leverage. The tariffs produced no meaningful economic benefit. They didn’t revive U.S. aluminum or battery manufacturing. They didn’t create new jobs. What they did do was stoke anti-American sentiment inside Canada, provoke retaliatory rhetoric, and make it harder for Carney’s government to sell deeper bilateral cooperation to a skeptical public.
Meanwhile, the real work of reinforcing the North American defense perimeter has suffered. As China expands its polar footprint and Russia adapts to long-term confrontation with the West, the U.S. and Canada should be aligning on Arctic surveillance, undersea domain awareness, and next-generation radar. Instead, they’ve spent the past few months entangled in a needless trade spat—arguing over tariffs when they should be coordinating on deterrence. It’s a failure of strategic prioritization.
There’s also a political misread here. Trump’s team seemed to believe Trudeau would cling to power or that Canada’s political class was too paralyzed to change course. But Canadian politics is more fluid than that. The Liberal Party, chastened by years of mismanagement and public fatigue, didn’t double down on globalist tropes. It shifted—modestly but noticeably—toward defense realism and economic pragmatism. That shift might not be everything Washington wants, but it’s a window. Trump could have helped push it open. Instead, he slammed it shut with tariffs.
Even now, with Carney’s government sending signals that it wants a reset on defense cooperation, the U.S. is playing catch-up. Quiet talks are reportedly underway to roll back some of the tariff measures in exchange for renewed Canadian defense commitments. But what should have been a natural convergence now requires diplomatic damage control. Trump got his headline, but Washington lost momentum. That’s not strength—it’s strategic amateurism.
And again, none of this was inevitable. It was a choice. The Canada file could have been handled with finesse—firm pressure behind closed doors, public encouragement where warranted, and tactical patience. Instead, Trump reached for the most theatrical tool in the toolbox, confusing noise with leverage. He made cooperation look like capitulation and gave ammunition to Canadian voices who want to hedge against U.S. unpredictability.
What Happens Now?
Which brings us back to Sun Tzu. “The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.” Trump isn’t at war with Canada, of course—but the principle holds. The best outcomes in geopolitics often come not from confrontation but from shaping conditions so that others move in your direction willingly. Sun Tzu also advised that when an opponent is retreating or shifting position, a wise strategist builds a golden bridge—an honorable path that allows them to change course without humiliation. Canada was already shifting. Trump could have built that bridge. Instead, he set it on fire with tariffs. It wasn’t smart. It wasn’t necessary.
And now, in the clear light of May 2025, it looks exactly as it was: silly, self-defeating, and strategically incoherent.
About the Author: Andrew Latham
Andrew Latham is a non-resident fellow at Defense Priorities and a professor of international relations and political theory at Macalester College in Saint Paul, MN.
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