Canada’s 45th general election may have been about many things—housing, taxes, national security—but it was overshadowed by one figure who wasn’t even on the ballot: Donald Trump. The former (and once again current) U.S. president managed to hijack the tone, urgency, and focus of Canada’s election from start to finish, turning what should have been a sober national discussion into a referendum on cross-border sovereignty.
Prime Minister Mark Carney, newly installed and eager to differentiate himself from Justin Trudeau, didn’t shy away from making Trump the centerpiece of his campaign. Launching the election in March with a warning about “the biggest crisis in our lifetimes,” Carney declared that Canadian economic and foreign policy must be recalibrated in light of the Trump threat—particularly U.S. tariffs targeting everything from steel and aluminum to automotive parts.
While that messaging may have resonated with some voters—particularly those worried about the economy—Carney’s campaign at times felt more like a counter-Trump resistance than a bold new vision for Canada. His platform did make some notable shifts, such as scrapping the consumer carbon tax and canceling a capital gains tax hike, but the overarching narrative was clear: Canada must unify behind his leadership to withstand American economic aggression.
The Conservative leader, Pierre Poilievre, offered a different, though not necessarily clearer, path. His message of “change” lacked specificity at times, particularly in the early campaign days when the Liberals and Tories had yet to release their costed platforms. Poilievre distanced himself from Trump while subtly courting his themes, promising tax and red-tape reductions to make Canada more competitive. It was a pragmatic approach, albeit one that often came off as reactionary rather than visionary.
Yet while the major parties sparred over how to handle Trump’s looming shadow, foreign interference from Beijing quietly re-emerged. SITE Task Force officials revealed credible evidence that China sought to sway voters through targeted disinformation campaigns—one aimed at Carney, another at Conservative candidate Joe Tay, a Hong Kong democracy advocate running in Don Valley North. That Tay had a bounty placed on his head by Hong Kong authorities, and that a sitting Liberal MP allegedly joked about delivering him to the consulate, should have prompted immediate and forceful action from Carney. Instead, it took a political firestorm for the Liberal candidate to step down voluntarily. This is not what principled leadership looks like in the face of foreign threats.
Meanwhile, the Conservative camp was busy imploding from within. With Ontario Premier Doug Ford’s camp accusing Poilievre’s team of “campaign malpractice” and suggesting he might even lose his seat, it became clear that the right-wing movement in Canada is fractured. Kory Teneycke’s criticism that Poilievre wasn’t talking about Trump enough reveals the deep strategic confusion: Should Conservatives emulate Trump, reject him, or just ignore him? So far, the answer seems to be “all of the above,” depending on who you ask.
Then came the debates—traditionally a chance for leaders to make their case directly to the public. But instead of elevating the conversation, the debates were marked by spectacle, exclusion, and chaos. The Green Party was unceremoniously disinvited from the French-language debate due to failing to meet candidate thresholds. Independent media made rare appearances only to spark controversy, including when Rebel News asked Mark Carney a loaded question about gender and grilled Jagmeet Singh over his silence on church burnings. Singh refused to engage. Carney gave an answer that inflamed both sides of the culture war.
CBC News didn’t help matters. By erroneously stating on live television that “remains” of Indigenous children had been found at former residential schools—before issuing a correction the next day—they threw more gasoline on a fire that should’ve been doused with facts and compassion. The chaos led the Leaders’ Debates Commission to cancel media scrums altogether. A democratic low point.
By the end of it, Canadians weren’t just choosing between Carney and Poilievre. They were choosing whether to respond to external threats by retreating inward or adapting outwardly. Both parties promised tax cuts, both vowed to address the housing crisis, and both took predictable stances on guns, public broadcasting, and infrastructure. But only one theme truly defined the election: how to survive in a world where Canada’s largest trading partner is led by someone who publicly calls for it to become the “51st state.”
Trump’s election-day endorsement—“Good luck to the Great people of Canada”—read more like a provocation than a pleasantry. His statement that Canadians should “elect the man” who aligns with his vision made it clear: this election wasn’t just about policy; it was about identity.
No matter who forms government, the next Canadian leader must address the uncomfortable truth that Canada’s sovereignty is not just a diplomatic or economic issue. It’s an existential one. And in this election, that truth was made unavoidably clear—by a man who wasn’t even on the ballot.
