Should Canada Join the U.S.—or Should the U.S. Just Move South?
One of Donald Trump’s more bizarre proclamations was the suggestion that Canada could become part of the United States. His followers dutifully followed suit, referring to the Canadian Prime Minister as “Governor.”
But if Trump’s fantasy ever came true, the joke would be on him. Adding Canada as a U.S. territory would bring at least 10 new states—meaning 20 new senators and roughly 57 new members of the House. The result? A Congress dominated by Democrats for generations. Universal healthcare, Canadian-style, would be on the agenda.
What Trump really seems to be outlining is a new Monroe doctrine – an American sphere of influence stretching from Greenland to Panama. In this vision, countries like Canada and Mexico don’t join the U.S., but become subservient to it. Washington picks their governments. National sovereignty becomes an illusion.
So far, that vision has flopped.
Trump’s attempts at economic control—mainly through tariffs—have been on and off more times than a stripper’s knickers.
Justin Trudeau, who American right-wingers loathed for being articulate, successful, and annoyingly good-looking, recently stepped down. For a while, it looked like the Conservatives had the next election in the bag, but Trump’s meddling seems to have backfired. Now the Liberals, under ex-central banker Mark Carney, are poised for a comeback.
Still, with national boundaries suddenly up for discussion, it’s worth asking two big questions:
1. How did the current U.S. borders come to be?
2. Is America in the right place?
Drawing the Borders: North and South
The northern U.S. border was set after the War of Independence and the War of 1812—long before “modern America” existed. By the 1780s, the new states were split: some abolished slavery, others clung to it. Congress left it to each state to decide.
By 1804, the balance was 8 slave states and 8 free states. But free states grew faster, economically and demographically. That shift tilted control of the House toward the anti-slavery North. The Senate and Electoral College, in turn, were designed to protect the power of slaveholding states.
California was settled by East Coast liberals and entered the Union as a free state. Liberal free states sprung on the West Coast and along the Canadian border.
It became increasingly difficult to maintain the balance. Free states could be carved out anywhere; slave states needed land suitable for plantation agriculture. Free states had more economic opportunities, which attracted more people to live in them.
To tip the scales, slave owners pushed for the annexation of Texas and a war with Mexico. U.S. troops advanced as far as Mexico City, but post-war negotiations pulled the border back to the Rio Grande. Why? That line gave America the maximum amount of slave territory without having to absorb large numbers of Hispanic citizens.
The racial logic was clear. Spanish colonizers had mixed with Indigenous populations. White settlers brought white wives. A multiracial citizenry of European descent was a problem for the racial caste system of slavery.
So America took the land, not the people.
Soon, these new slave states were populated with enslaved Africans. But that system collapsed with the Civil War. The result: former slave states without slaves—and with far fewer Hispanic landowners, many of whom had been pushed out.
The Porous Border: A Temporary Solution
To solve the labor problem, the U.S. tolerated a porous southern border. Mexican workers came north seasonally to work in agriculture, then returned home. It was an informal, pragmatic system—cheap labor without citizenship.
That arrangement worked for over a century. But in recent decades, the border has hardened and militarised. Why? Because white Americans in southern states are anxious about demographic change. The border states are, slowly but surely, becoming Hispanic again. Politicians have exploited this fear to win elections—and without the advantages of a flexible labour force it’s left those same states poorer, more dependent on federal support, and economically stagnant.
This all stems from a racist decision: drawing the southern border at the Rio Grande, minimizing the Hispanic population.
What If the Borders Had Been Drawn Differently?
What if the U.S. had drawn its borders based on geography, economics, or community ties—not racial exclusion?
Move the southern border 200 miles south and the U.S. gains 15 million additional workers and a more coherent southern boundary—one aligned with the southern tip of Florida.
Shift the northern border 200 miles south and suddenly cities like Seattle, Portland, and Vermont end up in Canada—where frankly, they’d probably be happier. Meanwhile, the U.S. picks up Toronto, which already plays in American sports leagues. From a cultural and economic standpoint, it kind of makes sense.
Sure, it’s a thought experiment. But these arbitrary lines, drawn centuries ago, still shape the U.S. today in profound ways.
America’s Real Divide
The U.S. is deeply polarised. High-income, diverse, liberal states power the economy with world-class industries. Meanwhile, poorer, less educated, conservative regions depend heavily on federal subsidies. Rather than showing gratitude, they respond with resentment, cultural warfare, and outright hostility.
This divide isn’t just political or economic—it’s historical. The Southern border, in particular, was forged in the fires of slavery and racial hierarchy. Those roots still twist through American politics today.
So no, we’re not literally redrawing the map. But understanding why it looks the way it does—and who that map was designed to serve—helps understand how much racism shaped modern America.
