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My friends up north are getting a raw deal, and not just on the price of lumber.
I have fished with Canadians for years. We have sat around campfires swapping stories about the ones that got away, the ones that nearly took us in, and the ones we still tell about with a straight face. They are my friends. Their kids call me by my first name. I have eaten their pancakes, borrowed their boats, and learned that a good campfire needs more marshmallows than anyone admits.
Now Donald Trump is treating them like a trade problem that needs solving with a sledgehammer.
The latest round of this economic war started with Trump’s now usual tariff threats. Fifty percent here, fifty percent there, on hockey sticks and wine and whatever else can be slapped with a number.
Then the talks collapsed, and suddenly the story shifted to language. Canadian Prime Minister Carney said the American side had pushed against Canadian French-language protections – bilingual labels, support for French media, the little rules that keep a culture from fading into the background noise of a bigger neighbor. He called these demands by Trump unacceptable. Then he walked away.
Donald Trump fired back on Truth Social. He said he would never interfere with Canadians speaking French. But he did. He called the whole thing a stupid idea, a lie cooked up by a weak prime minister chasing votes in Quebec. He added that he loves French Canadians. But Trump’s demands speak otherwise.
And I don’t believe him when he says he loves them. This is the way abusive men explain away their abusive actions. But I do believe my Canadian friends when they say the pressure is real. Understanding this reality is the annoying thing about Trump’s actions against our friends.
Here is the thing about language. It is not just words on a cereal box. It is the way a story gets told around a fire. It is a joke that only lands in one tongue. It is the quiet pride of a people who refuse to disappear just because the map next door is bigger. When you tell a neighbor to drop the second language, you are not saving them money on printing. You are asking them to shrink.
My Canadian friends do not need me to defend their sovereignty. They have been doing that for a long time, often with a grin and a polite refusal that somehow still stings. But I can say this. The people I know up there are not the problem. They are the ones who taught me how to tie a proper knot, how to read the water, and how to laugh when the fish are smarter than you.
This trade fight may or may not cool down. Tariffs get adjusted. Statements get walked back. Trump may very well rename a lake for a news cycle and then forget about it by Tuesday. The campfires will still burn. The stories will still get told. But our friends have been insulted, and that is hard, perhaps near impossible, to forgive.
So the next time Donald Trump decides that language is just another line item to negotiate, I hope he sits down with a real Canadian first. Maybe over a fire. Maybe with a fishing rod in hand. Maybe after a few too many marshmallows.
He might learn that some things are not irritants. They are the whole point.
And if Donald Trump really does love French Canadians, he can prove it the old-fashioned way – by leaving their words alone, respecting their culture, and letting the friendship developed over centuries do the talking.
Bill Gindlesperger is a central Pennsylvanian, Dickinson College graduate, Pennsylvania System Of Higher Education (PASSHE) Governor, former Shippensburg University Trustee, awarded numerous patents, as well as Founder and Chairman of eLynxx Solutions. eLynxx provides cloud-software for automated sourcing and managing of mail marketing, swag, packaging, and all things print. He is a board member, campaign advisor, successful entrepreneur, published author and commentator. He can be reached at Bill@eLynxx.com
