When Donald Trump last year suggested Canada should become America’s 51st state, most Canadians treated it as another Trumpian jest. But the idea of joining a different union entirely has proven oddly appealing. A month or so later, a poll found that 46 per cent of Canadians support membership of the European Union—counterintuitive perhaps goven that Canada is even further from Europe than, well, Greenland.
Brussels, for its part, was ‘honoured’ by the attention, said a European Commission spokesperson, whilst carefully noting that only ‘European states’ can apply.
Geography, it turns out, still matters. Article 49 of the Treaty on European Union is clear on this point: “Any European State which respects the values referred to in Article 2 and is committed to promoting them may apply to become a member of the Union.” The word ‘European’ does most of the heavy lifting here. A 1992 European Commission document suggested the term “combines geographical, historical and cultural elements”. Morocco discovered these boundaries in 1987 when its application was politely declined on the grounds that it was not a European state.
Cyprus got in despite sitting closer to the Middle East than Europe, but that owed much to Greek lobbying and historical ties. Canada is 5,500 kilometres from Brussels.
Between theory and practice
The legal gymnastics required to accommodate Canada would be formidable. Peter Van Elsuwege, a professor of EU law at Ghent University, notes that membership in the Council of Europe—which includes 46 countries stretching to the Caucasus—provides one benchmark for ‘Europeanness’. Canada is not a member. Nor is it likely to become one. The treaties would need rewriting, requiring unanimous agreement from all 27 member states.
Canada could, in theory, tick the Copenhagen criteria boxes. Its democracy is stable, its market economy functions rather well, and it already applies much EU-style regulation through CETA, the Comprehensive Economic and Trade Agreement. The pact, in provisional force since 2017, has eliminated duties on 99 per cent of tariff lines and boosted bilateral trade to 118 billion US dollars in 2024. Canada has even joined an EU military mobility project, demonstrating its willingness to collaborate on security.
But scratch the surface and problems multiply. Agriculture would prove nightmarish. Europe’s Common Agricultural Policy would wreak havoc on Canada’s vast grain exporters. Fisheries present another headache. Canada’s coastal waters are rich, and Ottawa guards them jealously. The country would also become a net contributor to the EU budget, a tough sell to voters already grumbling about the cost of living. Language politics add spice: adding an Anglophone heavyweight might not thrill Paris.
Then there’s the small matter of distance. Brussels struggles to enforce standards in Romania, a mere two-hour flight away. Policing regulations in Toronto or Vancouver would test even the Commission’s legendary bureaucratic reach. Time zones alone would turn meetings into logistical nightmares. And whilst Canada shares certain European values such as multilateralism, regulated markets, and a fondness for queuing, it remains fundamentally North American in outlook and daily practice.
Not in, not out
The Norwegian model offers a more plausible path. Norway, Iceland and Liechtenstein participate in the European Economic Area, enjoying single market access without the political entanglements. EEA members adopt EU rules with no vote on shaping them, leading to what critics call a ‘democratic deficit’. Norway also pays into EU programmes and accepts free movement of people. For Canada, already outside Schengen and geographically distant, the arrangement would deliver modest gains whilst imposing considerable obligations.
Switzerland’s bilateral treaties present another option. The Swiss have negotiated access sector by sector, maintaining more autonomy than Norway but with added complexity. Brussels has made clear this patchwork approach has reached its limits. Canada would likely face similar resistance to cherry-picking benefits.
What Canada and the EU can do (and are doing) is deepen what they already have. CETA remains incomplete, with 10 member states still to ratify it (France’s Senate amended its ratification bill in 2024, essentially refusing approval). Finishing that job would strengthen ties considerably. The Strategic Partnership Agreement, signed in 2016, provides frameworks for policy coordination that could be expanded. Security cooperation through PESCO and EU missions offers another avenue.
Mark Carney, Canada’s prime minister, made his first official trip not to Washington but to Paris and London—a gesture heavy with symbolism as Trump’s tariffs (raised to 35 per cent in August) bite. The message was clear: Canada is looking beyond its southern neighbour. Full EU membership remains a fantasy, barred by geography and treaty law. But the Canada-EU relationship need not stay static. A large majority of Canadians want to reduce reliance on the United States, and Brussels is an obvious partner.
The EU has form in crafting bespoke arrangements. What matters is not the label (membership, association, partnership) but the substance. Canada could push for deeper integration on standards, expanded mutual recognition of qualifications, and stronger security ties. The two sides already share democratic values and similar regulatory appetites. Geography may make full union impossible, but it need not prevent a much closer embrace.
For Canada, the appeal is obvious: diversification away from an increasingly erratic America. For Europe, a reliable democratic partner with vast resources and technological prowess is hardly unwelcome. Formal membership may be off the table. A strategic alliance that matters, though, very much is not.
Photo: Dreamstime.
