Illustration: Andrea Ucini
Jan 2nd 2025
As international conflicts go, none did so little to disrupt the global order as the “whisky wars” that pitted Canada against Denmark for four decades. Flaring up in 1984, the unlikely spat involved a one-square-kilometre island in the middle of an icy Arctic channel marking the border between Greenland (now a self-ruling part of Denmark) and the Canadian territory of Nunavut. Both sides assumed the rock was theirs. What might have been considered a casus belli by lesser countries became, for the northern duo, an exercise in diplomatic civility. Canadian officials visiting the island marked their territory by leaving whisky and flags; Danes asserted sovereignty by snaffling the booze and leaving their own schnapps for Canadians to enjoy. In lieu of shots fired, polite letters were occasionally exchanged. When the quarrel grew tiresome a working group spent years agreeing to split the island down the middle, ending all hostilities in 2022.
With enemies like these, who needs friends? As it turns out, both Europe and Canada may be in the market for upgraded alliances. Donald Trump’s return to the White House on January 20th brings with it the prospect of tariffs and jingoistic bluster. Nerves are jangling on both sides of the north Atlantic. Places on the fringes of the European Union are rethinking their ties to the club. Switzerland has agreed to a closer alliance, and Iceland will hold a referendum in 2027 on joining. Greenland, which left the EU in 1985 after gaining autonomy from Denmark, might consider rejoining, given Mr Trump’s obsession with it. But Canada may have the most to fret about. Mr Trump is goading his neighbour by suggesting it is about to become America’s 51st state and referring to its prime minister as “Governor Justin Trudeau”. Officials from Ottawa and EU capitals have been trading notes on how to handle another bout of Mr Trump. Charlemagne, who enjoys both European and Canadian heritage, has a ready solution to both places’ woes: the EU should invite Canada to become its 28th member.
The (not entirely straightforward) case for CanadEU predates Mr Trump. It is, in short, that Canada is vast and blessed with natural resources but relatively few people, while the EU is small, cramped and mineral-poor. Sure, EU rules reserve membership to “European states”. Yet despite a residual attachment to the frontier spirit, Canadians can be thought of as honorary Europeans. The country has endured three sets of colonists from the old continent, starting with a brief Viking incursion. Like Europeans, Canadians believe that markets work but must be tempered by welfare states. Their governments offer similar deals to citizens: high taxes, messy parliamentary politics (Canada may soon have a new “governor”, given Mr Trudeau’s unpopularity) and good living standards for nearly all. Both trade openly, fret about global warming and dislike guns, the death penalty and Russian aggression.
But Europe has more to gain from a tie-up with Canada than access to Quebec’s strategic maple-syrup reserve. Europeans can be sold on enlargement by the prospect of their union tripling its surface area while adding only 40m Canadians to a population of 440m. The EU would go from having a population density not far from China’s to that of America—assuming enough Greeks or Belgians volunteer to live in rather chilly conditions. Europe is short of energy, too; Canada has lots of oil, gas and hydro power. A rich new joiner would help the EU’s finances.
France, historically reticent to enlarge the EU, would jump at the chance of a new French-speaking member—though it might settle for letting in just francophone Quebec, which is again mumbling about seceding. Welcoming King Charles III, the Canadian head of state, to EU confabs would please those who still mourn Brexit. Europeans could learn from Canada how to allow immigration in a fashion that the population embraces rather than tolerates, though a housing crunch has frayed that consensus of late. Canada’s inclusive treatment of its indigenous peoples, at least in recent decades, could be emulated by Europeans (though First Nations Canadians might fairly object to closer ties with ex-colonists). Canada’s ties to the Pacific, thanks in part to large migrant inflows from Asia, would round out Europe’s regional focus. The euro would look far more global if it were accepted in Vancouver.
Europe has a few lessons of its own for Canada, which might show off the benefit of EU membership to its own populace. The Brussels antitrust machinery has done a fine job keeping competition vibrant in areas such as banking, airlines and telecoms, giving Europeans a better deal than Canadians get. Canada talks about cutting carbon emissions but has yet to really do so, while Europe’s emissions are down over one-third from their peak. EU countries have figured out how to create a single market (flawed as it is) that makes it easier to trade between them than it often is for Canadian firms to trade across the 13 provinces and territories of their own nation. European members of NATO as a whole now spend over 2% of GDP on defence, meeting the target set by the alliance in 2014. Canada is at a meagre 1.4%.
Maple syrup, meet Belgian waffle
Alas, Europe still insists the EU is for Europeans. Canada would be reticent to join a customs union that would jeopardise its vital trading ties with America. Oh well. If CanadEU remains but a geopolitical thought experiment, that does not preclude an ever-closer relationship. Canada already takes part in several European schemes, such as military mobility and space travel. More could be done: Canada’s gas cannot reach EU shores because of a lack of LNG shipping infrastructure. The Canada-EU trade deal, enacted in 2017, is the bloc’s most ambitious, but remains in “provisional” application; ten EU countries have yet to ratify its most far-reaching measures. Short of bringing Canada into the club, Europeans could start by getting that deal over the line.Source (Archive)
