In the mid-2010s, prominent voices on Canada’s progressive left, including those aligned with Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s vision, leaned heavily into the idea of Canada as a “post-national state.” Trudeau himself famously told *The New York Times* in 2015 that “there is no core identity, no mainstream in Canada,” framing the country as a mosaic of identities unbound by traditional nationalism. This rhetoric dovetailed with a broader movement to reckon with Canada’s colonial past, exemplified by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission’s 2015 report, which labeled the residential school system a “cultural genocide.” Activists and academics pushed to dismantle symbols of national pride, arguing they propped up a settler-colonial legacy. Flags flew at half-mast for 161 days in 2021—over five months—following the alleged “discovery” of unmarked graves at former residential school sites, a gesture that underscored a narrative of shame rather than unity. Patriotism, in this view, was suspect, a relic of a Canada that needed deconstructing.

Fast forward to 2025, and the same progressive cohort now clutches the maple leaf with newfound zeal, spurred by fears of American annexation—whether economic, cultural, or political. The phrase “elbows up, just say no” has surfaced in leftist circles online, a gritty call to resist U.S. influence amid trade disputes and border security debates. This nationalist hyperbole marks a stark pivot from the earlier disdain for Canada-as-nation. Where once the Canadian identity was a punching bag—think of the 2020 toppling of Sir John A. Macdonald’s statue in Montreal by activists decrying his role in Indigenous oppression—now it’s a shield against the Stars and Stripes. The irony is palpable: a movement that spent years driving the notion of “Canadian-ness” into the ground suddenly hoists it aloft when sovereignty feels threatened.

So where was this patriotism when Canada’s symbols and history were being systematically dismantled? The progressive left’s about-face reveals a selective nationalism, dormant when reckoning with internal flaws but roused when an external foil like the United States looms large. The 2021 half-mast marathon, meant to signal humility, left little room for pride in the nation’s resilience or achievements. Yet today, as trade tensions flare—U.S. tariffs on Canadian lumber hit 17.99% in 2024, per the U.S. Department of Commerce—the same voices rally to “protect our way of life.” It’s a jarring contrast: a Canada once deemed unworthy of celebration is now a hill to die on, exposing the fluidity of ideology when convenience calls. The lesson? National identity, it seems, is only as disposable as the threat du jour allows.