During his leadership campaign and now, as prime minister, Mark Carney reached for a loaded phrase:
鈥淭he old relationship we had with the United States is over. What exactly the United States does next is unclear. But what is clear is that we as Canadians have agency, we have power. We are masters in our own home,鈥 Carney said on March 27 after an urgent meeting with a cabinet committee on Canada-U.S. relations. He has used it many times before and since, in both official languages.
That Carney would invoke it now is no accident. With Canada increasingly cast as a geopolitical pawn, masters in our own house鈥澛爏uddenly has pan-Canadian appeal. For federalists, it鈥檚 a savvy move. Reframing economic sovereignty as a national project taps into real anxieties about trade dependence.
The expression in French 鈥 鈥淢a卯tres chez nous鈥 鈥 has a deep historical meaning. For generations of Quebecers, this wasn鈥檛 just a slogan. It was a cri de c艙ur, a rallying cry that captured a province鈥檚 thirst for self-determination and dignity during the Quiet Revolution. Originally a 1960s slogan that fuelled Quebec鈥檚 nationalist movement and the creation of Hydro-Qu茅bec, it symbolized a province taking control of its destiny.
But here鈥檚 the rub: invoking the language of self-determination could have unintended consequences: what starts as a reaffirmation of national independence can quickly become a rallying cry for regionalism.
Prime Minister Carney may be trying to signal strength on the world stage. But in doing so, he may also be giving rhetorical oxygen to a different kind of sovereignty movement 鈥 one that鈥檚 picking up speed in more than one province.
鈥淢a卯tres chez nous鈥聽may resonate more deeply in Quebec, but the sentiment isn鈥檛 exclusive to it anymore. In Alberta, Premier Danielle Smith has already flirted with the idea of provincial autonomy through her Sovereignty Act, and has now declared that she would support if that鈥檚 what the people of Alberta ask for.
In Saskatchewan, Scott Moe talks openly about jurisdictional independence. Even in Ontario, we鈥檝e seen increasing resistance to federal mandates, masked not in nationalist language, but in the assertion of provincial 鈥渇reedoms.鈥
If provinces see themselves as distinct and sovereign “masters in their own homes,” what does that mean for a unified Canada?
Even more, as we watch the King, Canada鈥檚 sovereign, read from the Throne, the multiple layers of “sovereignty” start to blur. It鈥檚 another reminder that while words can unify, they can also divide.
The risk here isn鈥檛 just semantic when provinces, emboldened by economic grievance or cultural frustration, begin to assert that they too want to be 鈥渕asters in their own house.鈥
Add to this the Parti Qu茅b茅cois鈥 embrace of Alberta鈥檚 Premier Danielle Smith, and we see just how slippery this slope may be.
When the PQ鈥檚 Paul St-Pierre Plamondon praises Smith鈥檚 willingness to stand up for Alberta鈥檚 autonomy, he鈥檚 not just supporting a fellow provincial leader. He鈥檚 normalizing the idea that sovereigntist sentiment now has legitimacy elsewhere. It signals a growing sense that the federal government is a common adversary. And when different regions start aligning around a shared grievance rather than a shared vision, national cohesion begins to fray.
Which brings us back to Carney鈥檚 words. 鈥淢asters in our own home鈥 may be useful in asserting Canada鈥檚 independence abroad, but at home, it鈥檚 becoming harder to know which 鈥渉ome鈥 we鈥檙e talking about.
If every province starts to see itself as a sovereign actor in a loose federation, then Ottawa risks becoming less a capital and more a suggestion. This is precisely what Donald Trump is hoping for.
Canada has long managed to stay united not because everyone felt the same way, but because enough people believed we were in it together. The danger in today鈥檚 sovereignty discourse is that it offers the illusion of strength while quietly dissolving that belief.
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