The fireworks over the National Mall last night were not the only cause of a warm glow in Washington. Across the northern border, Canadians were marking America’s 250th birthday with a fervour that seemed almost... enthusiastic. Maple leaf flags mingled with Stars and Stripes at block parties from Vancouver to Halifax. Social media lit up with #HappyBirthdayUSA trending north of the border, outpacing domestic chatter about poutine and hockey. For those who track the subtle choreography of international sentiment, this is more than just neighbourly cheer. It is a data point in a shifting equation.
For decades, the ‘special relationship’ between Britain and the United States has been the bedrock of Western alliance. But the ground beneath it is shifting, and Canada’s public affection for its southern neighbour reveals a cultural realignment. A recent Pew survey showed that 68 per cent of Canadians view the US favourably – a figure that has risen steadily since 2020. Meanwhile, British warmth towards America has cooled to its lowest point in a generation, with only 55 per cent expressing a positive view. The cause is not hard to find. Trade tensions, Brexit’s lingering shadows, and a sense that the UK is looking inward have eroded the easy familiarity that once existed.
But for the person on the street, what does this mean? In Toronto’s Distillery District, I watched families gather around a giant screen broadcasting the Washington fireworks. ‘We share everything,’ said Sarah, a nurse, as her son waved a tiny US flag. ‘We share the continent, the culture. Britain feels far away now, even though we have the Queen on our money.’ That sentiment – of geography trumping history – is a quiet revolution. Canada’s identity has long been defined in opposition to the US: we are not them. But perhaps that binary is dissolving. As America enters its third century, its northern neighbour seems to be saying: we are with you.
For the UK, the implications are uncomfortable. The special relationship has been a source of pride and influence. But if Canada – a Commonwealth ally with a shared monarch – can so publicly embrace the American project, what does that say about the gravitational pull of the Anglosphere? The British government is scrambling to secure a post-Brexit trade deal with the US, but the clock is ticking. Meanwhile, Canada is already deep in negotiations for a comprehensive agreement. The subtext is clear: the world’s largest economy is not going to wait for London to sort out its domestic disputes.
This is not a crisis. Alliances are not broken by birthday parties. But they are revealed by them. The cheerful Canadian celebrations are a mirror held up to Britain – a reminder that loyalty is earned, not inherited. As one Tory MP confessed to me, ‘We assumed they’d always be our proxy in North America. Now we’re not so sure.’
The fireworks have faded. But the after-image lingers. And in that light, the special relationship looks a little less special, and a little more like a relationship that requires constant work.
