this entire post from @EliotPence is just... perfect. "Our choice is clear. We can remain the Canada of 1867 — safe, stable, and secondary. Or we can become once again the Canada of Mackenzie and Simpson — a country that ventures farther, builds faster, and dreams bigger than anyone expects. The latter is harder, riskier, and more uncertain. But it is also more faithful to who we are." -------------------- The Canoe and the Crown: Canada’s Past — and Its Path Forward October 6, 2025 By Eliot Pence Canada has always been a country of two stories. One is written in Hansard debates and legislative preambles, etched into marble in Ottawa and celebrated every July 1. The other is told in logbooks, oral histories, and fading maps — a history of canoes cutting through blackwater rivers, of trading posts rising in remote forests, of men and women pushing beyond the known. Both are true. But only one can guide us into the century ahead. The official story of Canada begins in 1867. It is the story of Macdonald and Cartier, of the Fathers of Confederation gathered in Charlottetown and Quebec City to design a country that would be safe, stable, and enduring. These were men shaped by the failures of 1848 revolutions, by the trauma of America’s Civil War, and by a pervasive fear of mob rule and republican excess. They built Canada as a bulwark against chaos — a Dominion under the Crown that prized order over passion, gradualism over rupture, and compromise over conviction. The Dominion they designed reflected those instincts. It was federal but cautious in its decentralization. It preserved monarchical symbols as ballast against populism. Its economy was anchored to imperial trade routes and British capital. Its motto, peace, order, and good government, spoke volumes about priorities. And for a century and a half, this constitutional conservatism has served us reasonably well. We are a safe, predictable country. We muddle through. We avoid extremes. But this is only half the story. The deeper Canada — the one that predates Confederation and transcends it — was built not in parliamentary chambers but in the wilderness. It was forged by coureurs de bois and voyageurs who paddled thousands of kilometres into an uncharted interior. It was shaped by Indigenous guides like Thanadelthur and Matonabbee, who taught survival and navigation long before surveyors arrived. It was financed by bold commercial enterprises like the Hudson’s Bay Company, whose charter predates the country itself by two centuries and whose fur brigades were, in effect, the first continental supply chains. These were not bureaucrats but builders. They were risk-takers and deal-makers, often operating at the edge of law and empire. Alexander Mackenzie reached the Arctic Ocean by canoe in 1789 and the Pacific in 1793 — twelve years before Lewis and Clark set out from St. Louis. George Simpson, the “Little Emperor” of Hudson’s Bay, ran a commercial empire that spanned a continent from Labrador to the Columbia River. Catherine Parr Traill and Susanna Moodie chronicled the raw, improvisational struggle of settlement, while entrepreneurs like John Molson and Timothy Eaton turned colonial outposts into thriving markets. This Canada — restless, ambitious, commercial — is too often treated as a footnote in our national narrative. It shouldn’t be. It’s too easy to see our current challenges as similar to those that shaped the confederation debate — fending off an American invasion and stitching together jurisdictions and colonies. The reality is we are confronting a far more fluid, competitive, and unforgiving world — one defined by technological upheaval, geopolitical realignment, and existential tests of sovereignty in the Arctic, in cyberspace, and beyond. In such a world, caution and incrementalism will not suffice. They risk consigning us to irrelevance. What will matter instead are precisely the qualities embodied by those early explorers and entrepreneurs: speed, ingenuity, risk tolerance, and a willingness to operate far from familiar ground. We need more Mackenzies — Canadians willing to strike out into the unknown, whether that’s in artificial intelligence, quantum computing, or resource development in the North. We need more Simpsons — leaders who build continental-scale businesses and global supply chains. And we need governments that understand their role not as guardians of the status quo but as catalysts for ambition. This does not mean rejecting the achievements of 1867. The institutions the Fathers of Confederation built remain essential. But they must now serve as platforms for dynamism rather than obstacles to it. Our regulatory regimes, procurement systems, and public-sector risk appetites were designed for a different era. They must be re-engineered to support rapid experimentation and decisive action — the modern equivalents of loading a canoe with trade goods and pushing west. There is, ultimately, no contradiction between these two Canadas. The explorers and the legislators, the traders and the constitutionalists, were all nation-builders in their own ways. But if the first century of our history was defined by the architecture of order, the next must be defined by the spirit of exploration. The future will not reward the most cautious country. It will reward the boldest. Our choice is clear. We can remain the Canada of 1867 — safe, stable, and secondary. Or we can become once again the Canada of Mackenzie and Simpson — a country that ventures farther, builds faster, and dreams bigger than anyone expects. The latter is harder, riskier, and more uncertain. But it is also more faithful to who we are.