The Legacy of 9/11: Views from North America 0228017319, 9780228017318

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t h e l e g a c y of 9 /1 1

The Legacy of 9/11 Views from North America Edited by

andrea charron alexander moens stéphane roussel

McGill-Queen’s University Press Montreal & Kingston • London • Chicago

© McGill-Queen’s University Press 2023 IsBn IsBn IsBn IsBn

978-0-2280-1731-8 978-0-2280-1732-5 978-0-2280-1797-4 978-0-2280-1798-1

(cloth) (paper) (ep df) (ep uB )

Legal deposit third quarter 2023 Bibliothèque nationale du Québec Printed in Canada on acid-free paper that is 100% ancient forest free (100% post-consumer recycled), processed chlorine free

We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts. Nous remercions le Conseil des arts du Canada de son soutien.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Title: The legacy of 9/11: views from North America / edited by Andrea Charron, Alexander Moens, Stéphane Roussel. Names: Charron, Andrea, editor. | Moens, Alexander, 1959– editor. | Roussel, Stéphane, 1964– editor. Description: Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20230163661 | Canadiana (ebook) 2023016370X | I sB n 9780228017318 (cloth) | I sBn 9780228017325 (paper) | I sB n 9780228017974 (epd f ) | Is Bn 9780228017981 (epu B) Subjects: lc sh : September 11 Terrorist Attacks, 2001—Influence. | l c s h : Canada—Economic policy—21st century. | lcsh : Mexico—Economic policy—21st century. | lc sh: National security—Canada. | lcsh : National security—Mexico. | lc sh : Canada—Defenses. | lcsh : Mexico—Defenses. Classification: lcc hv6432.7.l44 2023 | ddc 970.054/1—dc23 This book was typeset in 10.5/13 Sabon Pro.

For our students, who may not have experienced that day but seek to understand the consequences.

Contents

Figures and Tables Foreword

xi

xiii

Acknowledgments xv Abbreviations xvii 1 Introduction

3

Andrea Charron, Alexander Moens, and Stéphane Roussel 2 The Day and Beyond 13 Andrea Charron and Nabila De La Cruz-Garcia

part one: north amerIca 3 What Was Once So Near, Is Now Very Far: The “North American Idea” after 9/11 35 Greg Anderson 4 Was Not 9/11 Supposed to Change Everything? The Impact of the “September 11th Moment” on the Canada–US Relationship 51 Matthew Trudgen 5 A World Long Gone? 9/11 and Dominant Ideas in Canadian Foreign Policy Twenty Years On

68

Kim Richard Nossal and Stéphane Roussel 6 The “Kingston Dispensation” and the North American Stable Peace Post-9/11 83 David G. Haglund

viii

Contents

part two: Border, trade, and economIcs 7 Bordering Processes in North America from 11 September to Covid-19: Changing Canadian and US Approaches to Border Security and Migration 99 Laura Macdonald and Jeffrey Ayres 8 Into the Unknown: Trade and Security Twenty Years after 9/11

116

Geoffrey Hale 9 Ties That Fray: 9/11 and Its Aftermath 134 Kevin Budning and Fen Osler Hampson 10 A Tale of Two Border Closures: How the 9/11 Experience Prepared Canada and the United States for the 2020 Pandemic Shutdown 150 Meredith Lilly and Emily M. Walter

part three: securIty and socIety 11 Security Culture and Social Change in Canada and the United States since 9/11

171

Wilfrid Greaves 12 The Securitization and Internationalization of Quebec’s Public Security Policy, 2001–19

197

Jean-Christophe Boucher, Jean-François Payette, and Stéphane Roussel 13 The Post-9/11 Reorganization of Canada’s National Security Infrastructure 214 John Gilmour 14 Multilayered but Not Coordinated: National Security Policing in Canada after 9/11 229 Veronica Kitchen 15 Two Steps Forward, Two Steps Back: Mexico’s North American Security Policy 244 Athanasios Hristoulas

Contents

part four: defence of north amerIca 16 NORAD and 9/11: Looking Out, In, and Beyond 263 Andrea Charron, James Fergusson, and Elizabeth St John 17 The Terrorist Sleeper Threat in an Age of Anxiety Post-9/11 282 Shannon Nash 18 Canada’s Longest War as a Result of 9/11: The Price of Alliance Credibility 304 Justin Massie 19 9/11 and the Troubling Creation of a North American “Support the Troops” Discourse 318 Andrea Lane 20 North America, What North America? 335 Andrea Charron, Alexander Moens, and Stéphane Roussel Contributors 345 Index

349

ix

Figures and Tables

f I g u r es 10.1

Canada’s merchandise trade with the United States ($ billions, cad ), 2019–21. Data Source: Statistics Canada, Table 12-10-0011-01.

10.2

US vehicle entries to Canada, 2016–21. Data Source: Statistics Canada, Table 24-10-0002-01.

16.1

158

ucp as of 17 April 2002 268–9

t a Bl es 8.1

Canadian exports and total trade: 2000–19 (selected years), measured as % of gdp

8.2

119

US merchandise trade with Canada, China, and Mexico as % of gdp

8.3

153

120

Volume of travellers entering Canada by major mode of transport (year 2000 = 100)

124

Foreword

I was Canada’s newly appointed Chief of Defence on 9/11, having assumed my responsibilities at a Change of Command Ceremony held in Ottawa, Ontario, on 28 June 2001 under clear blue skies, not unlike those over New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania on that tragic and fateful day just over two months later. Canada’s response and support to its neighbour and closest ally to the south were immediate and all-encompassing and forever changed the way that we approach our North American Aerospace Defense (norad ) commitments and our national, continental, and international security. The aftermath also redefined the way that I executed my mandate as Chief of the Defence Staff and, later, my responsibilities as Chair of the nato Military Committee. This book accurately describes the actions taken in Canada, the United States, and Mexico during and after the terrorist attacks; the international response, including the first-ever declaration of Article V by the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (nato ); and the Global War on Terrorism subsequently engaged in by the United States and its allies. At the same time, it acknowledges that the world has been bombarded over the twenty-plus years since those deadly attacks by a series of political, economic, cultural, and security challenges, with significant and evolving consequences for our contributions to global security and our bilateral relationships with our continental partners, in particular the United States. The impact of decades of operations in Afghanistan, the introduction of a broad range of counter-terrorist initiatives in North America and abroad, and the realignment of concepts of operations for sea surveillance and the protection of North American airspace have been transformational,

xiv

Foreword

to say the least. The degree to which those changes have enhanced collective safety, security, and prosperity for Canada, the United States, and Mexico remains to be seen. This fact-filled and insightful book will give you much cause for reflection and will help you draw your own informed conclusions. General (Ret’d) Raymond R. Henault, cmm, msc, cd Former Chief of Defence for Canada, and Former Chair of the nato Military Committee

Acknowledgments

This book was inspired by the impending twentieth anniversary of 9/11 in 2021 and by the realization that many of our students were not yet born on that day and so did not fully appreciate the enormity of the event. Yet all of them live in its shadow. That observation began a debate: did 9/11 in fact change everything? So we set out to focus on the consequences of 9/11 for the “other” two states of North America. We owe a particular debt of gratitude to all of the authors who have contributed chapters to this edited volume and to Jane Boulden for her advice. We thank the North American and Arctic Defence and Security Network, and dnd’ s Mobilizing Insights in Defence and Security program, as well as the Canadian Defence and Security Network and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council, for their financial assistance. A special thank you to the anonymous reviewers who improved the manuscript, to Maura Blain Brown for compiling the index, and to Matthew Kudelka, Richard Ratzlaff, Grace Rosalie Seybold, and Lisa Aitken at mqup for their guidance. Most importantly, we thank the many students who have helped us with this project including Rowan Black, Ethan Boyda, Danielle Cherpako, Sam Chiappetta, Kieran Cucina, Nabila De La CruzGarcia, Jay Dion, Shannon Furness, Nicholas Glesby, Mohamed Soussi Gounni, Rory Heaslip, Daniel Kiesman, Pat McBurnie, and Elizabeth St John. Elizabeth deserves particular praise for her exceptional editing. Finally, and especially, a warm thank you to General (ret’d) Ray Henault for his kind foreword and support and leadership on 9/11 and beyond.

Abbreviations

1 cad 1 wtc 2 wtc 9/11 a/slcms aBm acsus

aIa aIs amlo anr aor apec asean awacs Bmd Bmd/na Bmdo Bmews Bnaa Bpg BrIcs BtB c/pve

1st Canadian Air Division North Tower, World Trade Center South Tower, World Trade Center 11 September 2001 Air/Sea Launched Cruise Missiles anti-ballistic missiles Association for Canadian Studies in the United States Afghan Interim Authority automated identification system [Mexican president] Andrés Manuel López Obrador Alaska norad Region area of responsibility Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation Association of Southeast Asian Nations Airborne Early Warning and Control System ballistic missile defence Ballistic Missile Defence of North America US Ballistic Missile Defense Organization Ballistic Missile Early Warning System British North America Act binational planning group Term referring to the emerging economies of Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa Beyond the Border initiative (Bloc Québécois) community engagement and prevention of violence

xviii

c2 c4Isr caf cancom canr canus caoc ccra cBp cBrn cBsa cds cedan cfacc cfB cIa cjcs cjoc coIn conr covId-19 cpc crc csa cse csIs csofc ct cusfta cusma d/cIa dea defcon dg

Abbreviations

command and control command and control + communication, computers, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance Canadian Armed Forces Canada Command Canadian norad Region Canada–United States Combined Air Operations Centre Canada Customs and Revenue Agency US Customs and Border Protection chemical, biological, radiological, and nuclear Canada Border Services Agency Chief of the Defence Staff Centro de Dialogo y Analisis Sobre America del Norte (Mexican Centre for Dialogue and Analysis on North America) Combined Forces Air Component Commander Canadian Forces Base Central Intelligence Agency US Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Canadian Joint Operations Command counterinsurgency doctrine Continental US norad Region sars-CoV-2, a coronavirus discovered in 2019 Conservative Party of Canada Canadian Research Chairs Canadian Space Agency Communications Security Establishment (Canada) Canadian Security Intelligence Service Canadian Special Operations Forces Command counterterrorism Canada–United States Free Trade Agreement Canada–United States–Mexico Agreement US Director of the Central Intelligence Agency US Drug Enforcement Administration Defense Condition 3 (1 thru 5, where 1 is the highest degree of military readiness for war) Director General

Abbreviations

dgspace dhs dnI d od dsca dsm dspaced eec ero

eu evonad faa fast fBI fdI fdr fema fIntrac flq francopol fta ftaa g20 g7

g8 gac gatt

xix

Director General for Space (Canada) US Department of Homeland Security US Director of National Intelligence US Department of Defense defense support of civil authorities dispute settlement mechanism Directorate of Space Development (United States) European Economic Community Especializada en Investigación de Delincuencia Organizada (Mexican Specialists in Organized Crime Investigations). Also, Enforcement and Removal Operations (US) European Union Evolution of North American Defense study Federal Aviation Administration free and secure trade US Federal Bureau of Investigation foreign direct investment US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt Federal Emergency Management Agency Financial Transactions and Reports Analysis Centre (Canada) Front de libération du Québec Réseau international francophone de formation policière (French-speaking international police training program) free trade agreement Free Trade Area of the Americas Group of Twenty – an intergovernmental forum comprising nineteen countries and the European Union Group of Seven – an intergovernmental forum of the wealthiest liberal democracies, consisting of Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, the United Kingdom, and the United States Group of Eight, an intergovernmental forum comprising the G7 plus Russia Global Affairs Canada General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade

xx

geo goc gpals gwot hcm hgv hhI IBet IcBm Ice Icmelo Ins Inset Irtpa Isaf Isds

IsIs Isr Itac Itar Itw/aa j3 jadc2 jfacc jttf leo marv mda mercosur mI mIkta mIr mIrv mlu mnd

Abbreviations

geosynchronous orbit Government of Canada global protection against limited strikes global war on terrorism hypersonic cruise missile hypersonic glide vehicle Herfindahl–Hirschman Index international border enforcement team Intercontinental Ballistic Missile US Immigration and Customs Enforcement integrated cross-border maritime law enforcement operations US Immigration and Naturalization Service integrated national security enforcement team US Intelligence Reform and Terrorism Prevention Act International Security Assistance Force (Isaf ) investor-state dispute settlement Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (aka Daesh) intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance Integrated Threat (now Terrorism) Assessment Centre (Canada) international trade in arms Integrated Tactical Warning/Attack Assessment Director of Operations joint all-domain command and control Joint Force Air Component Commander Joint Terrorist Task Force low earth orbit manoeuvrable re-entry vehicle US Missile Defense Agency South American trade bloc Mérida Initiative Intergovernmental forum consisting of Mexico, Indonesia, South Korea, Turkey, and Australia Quebec’s Ministère des Relations Internationales multiple independently targeted re-entry vehicle military liaison unit Canadian Minister of National Defence

Abbreviations

mrI n/j3 nc2c nadBank nafta nals nato navnorth nctc ndp neads ngo nIp norad nsa nvc nws nypd oas ocIpep one opp osIpep ost pats pco p/cve pest pjBd pm pmo po polad potus ppclI

xxi

Quebec’s Ministère des Relations Internationales norad Operations Directorate usnorthcom-norad Command Center North American Development Bank North American Free Trade Agreement, 1994–2020 North American Leaders’ Summit North Atlantic Treaty Organization US Naval Forces Northern Command US National Counter-Terrorism Center New Democratic Party US Northeast Air Defense Sector (norad ) non-governmental organization National Intelligence Program (US) North American Aerospace Defense Command  National Security Adviser (Canada) New Veterans’ Charter North Warning System New York Police Department Organization of American States Canadian Office of Critical Infrastructure Protection and Emergency Preparedness Operation noBle eagle (norad ) Ontario Provincial Police Office of Critical Infrastructure Protection and Emergency Preparedness (Canada) 1967 Outer Space Treaty Provincial Anti-Terrorism Section Privy Council Office (Canada) preventing and countering violent extremism political, economic, social, and technological analysis Permanent Joint Board on Defense (canus ) prime minister Prime Minister’s Office polar orbit policy adviser President of the United States Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry

xxii

ppe prIsm prt psc psepc ptsd qdr qIp rcaf rcmp rcn sac sdI seals Sec Def seIdo

shcp slBm smes socom spp sps sq ssBn sse ssn stca stracom stt thaad

Abbreviations

personal protective equipment planning tool for resource integration, synchronization, and management provincial reconstruction team Public Safety Canada Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness Canada post-traumatic stress disorder US Quadrennial Defense Review Quebec’s International Policy Royal Canadian Air Force Royal Canadian Mounted Police Royal Canadian Navy US Strategic Air Command US Strategic Defense Initiative US Navy Sea, Air, and Land Teams US Secretary of Defense Subprocuraduría Especializada en Investigación}de Delincuencia Organizada (Mexican Office of the Special Prosecutor for Organized Crime Investigation) Secretaría de Hacienda y Crédito Público (Mexican Ministry of the Treasury) submarine-launched ballistic missiles small and medium enterprises US Special Operations Command North American Security and Prosperity Partnership (Canada, Mexico, and the United States) Queen’s University School of Policy Studies Sûreté du Québec (Quebec’s police organization) US ballistic missile submarine Strong, Secure, Engaged (2017 Canadian defence policy) US Space Surveillance Network Safe Third Country Agreement US Strategic Command Support the Troops US Theater High Altitude Area Defense

Abbreviations

tmec tor tpl tpp tps transcom ucp ueIta

uIf UK unama unsc usaf useucom usmca usn usnct usnorthcom usspacecom usstratcom ustr us-vIsIt vac vacIs vpd vs wse wto y 2k

xxiii

Tratado entre México, Estados Unidos y Canadá (Trade Agreement between Mexico, the United States, and Canada) terms of reference True Patriot Love foundation Trans-Pacific Partnership Toronto Police Service US Transportation Command US Unified Command Plan Unidad Especializada en Investigación de Terrorismo, Acopio y Tráfico de Armas (Mexican unit specializing in investigation of terrorism and arms trafficking) Unidad de Inteligencia (Mexican Ministry of the Treasury, Intelligence Financial Unit) United Kingdom UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan UN Security Council US Air Force US European Command United States–Mexico–Canada Agreement US Navy US National Counterterrorism Center United States Northern Command US Space Command US Strategic Command US Trade Representative United States Visitor and Immigrant Status Indicator Technology System Veterans Affairs Canada vehicle and cargo inspection system  Vancouver Police Department Vigilant Shield Exercise (norad ) white supremacist extremists World Trade Organization events related to the formatting and storage of calendar data for dates beginning in the year 2000

t h e l e g a c y of 9 /1 1

1 Introduction Andrea Charron, Alexander Moens, and Stéphane Roussel

9/11 memorializes one late-summer Tuesday morning in September. “9/11” stands for 11 September 2001, the day North America was attacked by Al Qaeda operatives, who flew hijacked commercial aircraft directly and purposefully into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in New York and the Pentagon in Washington, dc. Another high-profile target (likely the White House or the Capital) would have been struck had Flight 93 not crashed into a field in Pennsylvania after the passengers on board that flight thwarted the original plan. In all, 2,977 people were killed (most of them American, but also twenty-four Canadians and between seventy to one hundred Mexicans) and more than 6,000 were injured. The skies above the United States and Canada were immediately closed to commercial air traffic, and thousands of travellers were “hosted” at airports in both countries.1 9/11 sparked fundamental changes to airport, port, and border security around the world. The UN and nato launched missions in Afghanistan, and Western security and defence agencies began asking themselves a fundamental question: “How did we miss this?” Despite ample evidence of the danger of such an attack, and despite a number of precursor events – including the recent bombings of the US embassies in Kenya and Tanzania, an attack on the uss Cole in the Gulf of Aden, and the discovery of terrorist cells in Jordan and Sudan – 9/11 came as a shock. The skyline of New York was forever changed and the Pentagon’s dangerously outdated architecture was reconfigured. The tragedy of Flight 93 is commemorated at a national memorial in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.

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w a kIn g u p t o t he a Bs ence o f a u nI t e d n o r t h amerIca “9/11 changed everything.” At least, that is how many of the contributors to this book felt at the time, twenty-plus years ago. That was also the feeling of most of the Canadian authors gathered by Jonathan Paquin and Patrick James for an important reflection on the consequences of 9/11 published in 2014.2 Books published immediately after 9/11 sounded the alarm that the world had forever changed.3 A nineteen-year reflection on the creation of the US Department of Homeland Security suggests that the Americans’ approach to protecting the “homeland” would never be the same after 9/11.4 Not everyone agreed, however, that 9/11 was a catalyst for worldwide transformation. Barry Buzan, for example, was less convinced that there had been a paradigm shift in world politics; he doubted that the major international relations theories would change significantly as a result of 9/11 even though it showed the power of non-state actors.5 We think that in the main, he was right. Elinor Sloan cautioned that as Canada shifted its focus to terrorist threats, it must not forget climate change, the Arctic, and ballistic missile defence.6 And Michael Cox counselled a rethink of research agendas: 9/11 might well be an extraordinary event, he noted in June 2002, but it was academics studying such events who needed to change.7 It might be human nature to seek historical analogies – to Pearl Harbor, for example – but we should try not to do so. Rather, academics should ask themselves whether they had examined US policy adequately, whether they were sufficiently attuned to other regions in the world (e.g., the Middle East and Africa), and whether they had considered new and different voices. Twenty years after the day, we might benefit from heeding the advice of Michael Cox (and that of other scholars) and ask ourselves whether 9/11 actually did change North America in fundamental ways. First, what do we mean by North America? Is it the North America of the North American Aerospace Defense Command (norad ), which includes only the United States and Canada? Or is it the trilateral North America of the North American Free Trade Agreement (nafta ) and its successor? Can one have North America with only Canada and Mexico and not the United States? North America can simultaneously refer to several different combinations: Canada and the United States in a binational or bilateral context; Canada, the

Introduction

5

United States, and Mexico in a trilateral context; or even the entire continent, which technically includes parts of Central America and the Caribbean.8 Is North America distinct from other regions of the world? North America is often referenced as a united whole by virtue of factors such as trade and and geography, but are we correct to characterize the continent in that way? Our understanding of North America and the relations among its constituent nations is especially important as we enter a new era of strategic competition in this time of great economic uncertainty. In a more pragmatic sense, the questions this book explores ultimately have to do with the decisions made by Canada and Mexico in a “North American” context, given the powerful shock suffered by the neighbour they happen to share – the United States. Even so, when asking what changed after 9/11, the answer will always be predicated on the issue or policy area being examined; thus, no single answer can ever suffice except to say that “it depends.” The changes have at times been profound: one cannot help but notice the new security measures, departments, processes, and policies that resulted because of 9/11. But at the same time, 9/11 did little to change the trajectory of the three separate states, with their very different histories, governments, publics, and concerns. One advantage of taking stock of the entirety of the twenty years since 9/11 is that the contributors can compare it to other events. Given that this book focuses on the less-studied Canadian and Mexican perspectives, it is not surprising that the Trump era figures prominently. Some thinkers, like Ackerman, contend that Trump’s rise to the presidency was directly connected to 9/11;9 others argue that it was Congress that changed as a result of 9/11, and that presidents then exploited that change.10 Clearly, though, the Trump presidency, the pandemic, shifts in political ideology, newly created approaches to border security, policing, and migration, and the consequences of the global war on terror (gwot ) can all be analyzed in relation to 9/11. This book takes as its starting points the world pre- and post9/11 and considers how that event changed ideas about “North America” and approaches to problems within it. The answers are decidedly mixed, and the different chapters will note the greater or lesser degree of continuity pre- and post-9/11. 9/11 accelerated the pace of change, with nations sometimes taking new and unexpected directions; yet there were other times when the decisions they made were consistent with previous policies.

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While 9/11 prompted many coordinated decisions by the three states, North America is no more integrated now than it was before. The 1990s remain the high-water mark for a more integrated region called “North America,” given the successful negotiation of nafta , which finally brought together all three North American states. But as Ann Capling and Kim Richard Nossal have argued elsewhere, nafta did not create a North American region, for it was never a trilateral agreement; rather, it was a dual bilateral arrangement.11 North America has elements of “regionalism,” but as we unpack the many “North American” decisions made following 9/11, we find ourselves convinced that Clarkson’s 2008 book Does North America Exist?12 was in fact asking a fundamental question. Did the responses to 9/11 help unify North America or further dismantle it? This book asks a further question: how did Canada and Mexico respond to 9/11 and adjust their relations with the US and with each other?

n o t j u s t s o w h a t , B ut now what? At the time of 9/11, the United States was the world’s undisputed hegemon. It was the winner of the “end of history.”13 Russia and China were not viewed as Great Power challengers or as proximate and pacing competitors respectively, which is how they are seen today. In the aftermath of 9/11, traffic at the border between Canada and the United States – the longest between two countries in the world – was slowed down for days and the US/Canadian airspace was closed to commercial traffic, with the result that billions of dollars in exports and imports languished in trucks and cargo holds on either side of the border. Mexico’s border with the Unted States was slowed considerably, requiring an entire day to process goods and people. North Americans who “looked” Muslim (i.e., were black or brown) were singled out for racist attacks in the form of slurs, accusations, and physical assaults. Everyone was about to have a crash course on religions, Osama bin Laden, and Asian geography. US President George W. Bush, previously the butt of jokes on Saturday Night Live and other comedy shows, had been thrust into the limelight as the wartime President. Canadian prime minister Jean Chrétien, always the pragmatist, made few pronouncements but did instruct his Cabinet to find ways to open the border fully and weather the changes that would inevitably come

Introduction

7

as a result of an attack on the United States that was now being likened to Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941.14 Mexican President Vicente Fox, who enjoyed a warm relationship with President Bush, offered his assistance and condolences. Nine days after 9/11, the US president addressed both houses of Congress, commending particular nations for their support. South Korea, Egypt, Australia, Africa, Latin America, Pakistan, Israel, India, El Salvador, Iran, Mexico, Japan, and Britain were all expressly mentioned. Indeed, the president declared that “America has no truer friend than Great Britain.”15 Canada was not mentioned at all, even though thousands of stranded American passengers and other foreign nationals had been hosted at Canadian airports under Operation Yellow Ribbon. (Years later, the success of the Broadway hit Come From Away, chronicling the warmth and charity of Newfoundlanders in Gander who hosted thousands of stranded travellers for days, would serve as a belated thank you of sorts.) Some Americans, to this day, harbour and repeat the belief that Canada (renamed “Canuckistan”) and its “lax” immigration policies provided the launching site for the 9/11 hijackers.16 For decades, terrorism – almost exclusively in its Sunni-based forms – was the security priority for the West, with many unintended consequences. In the wake of the Trump presidency, many are now reconsidering their former opinion of George W. Bush. The United States is no longer the global hegemon, and the world is now grappling with the Covid-19 pandemic, which has brought back borders with a vengeance. Especially since 9/11, Canada and Mexico have been prone to throw each other under the political bus to curry favour with the United States and distinguish their particular security and economic issues from those of the “other” North American partner.17 This was evident during the painstaking nafta 2.0 negotiations throughout 2018, which resulted in three identical but differently named agreements: the Canada–US–Mexico Agreement (cusma ), the Tratado entre México, Estados Unidos y Canadá (tmec ), and the US–Mexico–Canada Agreement (usmca ). New, unified command plans, reconfigurations of departments, and partnerships and coalitions of the “willing and billing”18 remained works in progress as North America fought several conflicts in the Middle East. Billions of dollars and hundreds of lives were lost in the fight against Al Qaeda and the Taliban in Afghanistan. The caf were part of that fight for twelve and a half years, the United States

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and nato allied forces for more than twenty. It seems to have been all for nought, given Afghanistan’s dismal record on poverty eradication, human rights, and rule of law. This book focuses on Canada’s 9/11 perspective and, to a lesser extent, on Mexico’s. It has four sections, which reflect on (1) North America, (2) the border, trade, and economics, (3) security and society, and (4) the defence of North America. Most readers will recognize this as a modified pest (political, economic, social, and technological) analysis, and indeed, pest serves as this book’s framework. This approach ensures that analyses consider more than the immediate and observable repercussions of an event and that the most obvious ideas do not dominate discussions. Developed by Harvard business professor Francis Aguilar, this analytical model is widely used in a number of disciplines because it is able to identify trends and interdependencies, encourage forecasting, and identify implications for the subject under study.19 Chapter 2 recounts the events of 9/11, the major decisions made both globally and within North America to respond to it, and the consequences. Chapters 3 to 6 explore ideas about North America from various perspectives. In chapter 3, Greg Anderson notes that one would have expected the “idea” of North America, as exemplified in the trilateral nafta , to be strengthened by the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the United States because they expanded dramatically the security agenda. But instead, 9/11 only briefly reanimated thinking about what a more integrated North America might look like. In chapter 4, Matthew Trudgen questions whether 9/11 in fact changed anything. He argues that the strategic defaults governing the Canada–United States (canus ) relationship were not fundamentally changed by the attacks because those defaults were by then deeply entrenched in Washington and Ottawa and because there were not enough senior figures in either capital, especially in Washington, who wanted to change them. In chapter 5, Kim Richard Nossal and Stéphane Roussel reflect on the dominant ideas about “North America” over the past twenty years. They argue that there is a significant disjuncture between the dominant image that Canadians continue to have of the international system and Canada’s place in it on the one hand, and the reality of an international system that is not conducive to internationalism on the other. In chapter 6, David Haglund re-examines the Kingston Dispensation of 1938 in the wake of 9/11 and Trump’s tumultuous four years in

Introduction

9

office. canus relations have been tested, but Roosevelt’s pledge to stand by Canada is holding, if just barely. Part Two examines the borders, trade, and economics since 9/11. Laura Macdonald and Jeffrey Ayres look at borders, immigrants, and asylum-seekers. Over time, the rationale for restricting the mobility of migrants, refugees, and asylum claimants in North America has morphed several times: from earlier US concerns about Mexican migrants, to fears that terrorists would take advantage of Canada’s supposedly lax immigration and refugee policies, back to the stoking of anti-Latino fears and wall-building during the Trump administration. The changes required of Mexico and Canada have been emphatically US-led. In chapter 8, Geoffrey Hale concludes that 9/11 launched an era of instability in Canada’s economic and security relationships within and beyond North America. Twenty years later, the canus relationship remains by far the most important in Canada’s foreign policy, security, and international economic relationships. This is underpinned, obviously, by geographic proximity and the breadth and depth of cross-border interdependence. However, 9/11-related security shocks, while significant to bilateral economic and security relations in subsequent decades, have been less significant to the evolution of these relations than subsequent political and economic shocks. In chapter 9, Fen Hampson and Kevin Budning argue that the sheer strength of the “shock” of 9/11 has generated frictions along the canus border that are still being felt today in the realms of travel, trade, energy, and foreign policy. They believe these frictions are likely here to stay. Meredith Lilly and Emily Walter, for their part, suggest in chapter 10 that 9/11 prepared Canada and the United States for the 2020 pandemic shutdown. The border closure policy put in place in response to the pandemic largely succeeded in minimizing disruption to the flow of goods across the border. Officials in both countries strove to ensure that merchandise trade would continue unimpeded during the pandemic border closure. Part Three (chapters 11 to 15) explores the issues around security – in particular, how Canadian society reacted to new institutions and approaches to securing the state. Wilfrid Greaves argues in chapter 11 that the security cultures in Canada and the United States have diverged in many areas, notwithstanding elements of convergence after 9/11. Chapter 12, by Jean-Christophe Boucher, Jean-François Payette, and Stéphane Roussel, analyzes Quebec’s response to 9/11.

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They conclude that Quebec’s tradition of paradiplomacy was emboldened by 9/11, in that the province succeeded in shifting the security relationship between Quebec and the United States outside the exclusive purview of the federal government. In chapter 13, John Gilmour asks which national security institutions changed post-9/11. He argues that Canada responded not by mimicking the United States but by developing its own unique approach to security. Veronica Kitchen, in chapter 14, argues that one legacy of the attacks was a thorough overhaul of the national security policing system in Canada. That restructuring has been massive and has led to the creation of Integrated National Security Enforcement Teams (Inset ) as well as new cross-border cooperative initiatives. However, the financial investment never quite seems to match the demand for security investigations. Part Three ends with Athanasios Hristoulas’s look at how Mexico responded to 9/11. Mexico, he argues, responded as required by the United States, but without ever joining, or desiring to join, a fully integrated North American security regime. Part Four (chapters 16 to 20) turns to the defence of North America. It begins with the North American Aerospace Defense Command (norad ). Andrea Charron, James Fergusson, and Elizabeth St John argue that today’s norad is not the same norad that failed in its primary mission to protect North American airspace during 9/11. Shannon Nash in chapter 17 explores the main preoccupation of security agencies since 9/11 – terrorist sleeper cells, a concept that plays on society’s inherent fears of the enemy within and in doing so exposes society’s vulnerabilities. Chapter 18 by Justin Massie follows naturally from Nash’s, tracing Canada’s contribution to the war on terror in Afghanistan – Canada’s longest war. Massie’s chapter pairs well with chapter 19 by Andrea Lane, which explores the goodwill Canadians extend to their military, largely as result of the Afghan experience. Such goodwill can, however, become a liability if it prevents politicians and the public from asking tough questions of its military. The book concludes with a reflection on broader questions. A truly integrated North America that works together to defend all citizens has yet to come to fruition. Instead, Canada, Mexico, and the United States are behaving more and more like three solitudes. All three states may recognize 911 as the phone number to call in an emergency, and all three enjoy a trilateral trade relationship and hundreds of bilateral connections. Despite this, 9/11, far from integrating “North America,” may have precipitated its dismantling.

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no t e s 1 Mexico did not close its airspace, but flights from Mexico were not permitted to travel into US air space. 2 Jonathan Paquin and Patrick James, eds, Game Changer: Impact of 9/11 on North American Security (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2014). 3 Fred Halliday, Two Hours That Shook the World: Causes and Consequences (London: Saqi, 2002); Strobe Talbot and Nayan Chanda, eds, The Age of Terror and the World After 9/11 (Oxford: Perseus, 2002). 4 Chappell Lawson, Alan Bersin, and Juliette N. Kayyem, eds, Beyond 9/11: Homeland Security for the Twenty-first Century (Cambridge, ma : mIt Press, 2020). 5 Barry Buzan, “The Implications of September 11 for the Study of International Relations,” draft manuscript, conference on the Research Agenda in International Politics in the Aftermath of September 11th, Swedish Institute of International Affairs, Stockholm, 10–11 April 2002. 6 Elinor Sloan, Security and Defence in a Terrorist Era (Kingston and Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2005). 7 Michael Cox, “Paradigm Shifts and 9/11: International Relations after the Twin Towers,” Security Dialogue 33, no. 2 (June 2002): 247–51. 8 For example, Puerto Rico, the US Virgin Islands, and other territories that fall within usnorthcom ’s area of responsibility. 9 Spencer Akerman, Reign of Terror: How the 9/11 Era Destabilized America and Produced Trump (New York: Penguin Books, 2022). In summary, as a result of the ill-conceived gwot that, at the core, preferences the lives of “whites” over non-whites, the conditions were created for Trump’s brand of populism. 10 Sarah Binder and Molly Reynolds, “20 Years Later: The Lasting Impact of 9/11 on Congress,” Brookings Institute, 27 August 2021, https://www. brookings.edu/blog/fixgov/2021/08/27/20-years-later-the-lasting-impactof-9-11-on-congress. 11 Ann Capling and Kim Richard Nossal, “The Contradictions of Regionalism in North America,” Review of British Studies 35 (Special Issue S1, Globalising the Regional, Regionalising the Global) (February 2009): 147–67. Also published in Globalising the Regional, Regionalising the Global, ed. Rick Fawn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). Many authors share this view about the “nature of North America,” for example, Stéfanie Von Hlatky and Jessica N. Trisko, “Sharing the Burden of the Border: Layered Security Co-operation and the Canada-US Frontier,” Canadian Journal of Political Science 45, no. 1

12

12 13

14

15 16

17

18

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(March 2012): 63–88; and Richard J. Kilroy Jr, Aberlardo Rodríguez Sumano, and Todd S. Hataley, “Toward a New Trilateral Strategic Security Relationship: United States, Canada, and Mexico,” Journal of Strategic Security 3, no. 1 (2010): 51–64. Stephen Clarkson, Does North America Exist? (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008). Francis Fukuyama, The End of History and the Last Man (New York: Free Press, 1992). This book posited that the end of the Cold War had confirmed liberal democracies (and their embrace of capitalism) as the pinnacle of state evolution. It was the follow on from his article “The End of History?,” The National Interest 16 (1989): 3–18. Stéphane Roussel, “Pearl Harbor et le World Trade Center: Le Canada face aux États-Unis en période de crise,” Études internationales 33, no. 4 (December 2002): 667–95. Speech to Congress (20 September 2001), https://www.govinfo.gov/ content/pkg/WCPD-2001-09-24/pdf/WCPD-2001-09-24-Pg1347.pdf. “Canada is a favoured destination for terrorists and international criminals” (Library of Congress research report 2004); “Far more of the 9/11 terrorists came across from Canada than from Mexico” (former US Speaker Newt Gingrich, April 2005 – later retracted and apologized); “We’ve got to remember that the people who first hit us on 9/11 entered this country through Canada” (then US Senator Conrad Burns, December 2005 – he later said he “misspoke”). See Kim Richard Nossal, Stéphane Roussel, and Stéphane Paquin, The Politics of Canadian Foreign Policy (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2015), 32–3. Stephen Clarkson, “The Disintegrative Effects of North America’s Securitisation on the Canada-Mexico Relationship,” in Paquin and James, eds, Game Changer. Credited to Joel Sokolsky at his presentation to the Wilson Center, Washington, dc , on 15 January 2004: “Realism Canadian Style: The Chrétien Legacy in Foreign and Defense Policy and the Lessons for Canada–U.S. Relations.” Francis Aguilar, Scanning the Business Environment (New York: Macmillan, 1967). He arranged the letters as etps . See Nitank Rastogi and M.K. Trivedi, “pestle Technique – A Tool to Identify External Risks in Construction Projects,” International Research Journal of Engineering and Technology 3, no. 1 (2016): 384–8.

2 The Day and Beyond Andrea Charron and Nabila De La Cruz-Garcia

The 11th of September 2001 was a beautiful, sunny day in most of North America. It was also the UN’s International Day of Peace.1 Within twenty-four hours, however, it would be widely understood that the events of that morning demanded action. This chapter outlines the events directly associated with 9/11 and the major decisions made in its aftermath involving the United States, Canada, and Mexico, to provide context for the chapters that follow. Most of the contributors to this volume will never forget where they were when they heard that a plane had crashed into the northern facade of the World Trade Center’s North Tower (1 wtc ). The Federal Aviation Administration’s Boston Center, which was tracking American Airlines Flight 11 (en route from Boston to Los Angeles), contacted norad ’s North East Air Defense Sector (neads ) at 8:37 a.m. to report a suspected hijacking.2 neads ’s battle commander, Colonel Robert Marr (usaf ), called two f- 15 alert aircraft at Otis Air Force Base in Falmouth, Massachusetts, to battle stations; he then ensured that the Continental norad Region (conr ) Commander Major General Larry Arnold (usaf ), and the norad battle staff at Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado Springs were made aware. The f-15s took off at 8:46 a.m., at about the same time that Flight 11 hit the North Tower in New York and around nine minutes after neads received notice that there had been a hijacking. Much has been made of those nine minutes, but this response time was the minimum required to launch after a norad scramble call. Crews must run to their aircraft, strap in, and initiate start sequences.3 The pilots had very little information regarding in which direction to

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head or what was happening on the ground and had been directed toward military-controlled airspace off Long Island to avoid air traffic in the New York City area. At 9:03 a.m., United Airlines Flight 175 (also en route from Boston to Los Angeles) flew into the South Tower just as neads received another phone warning of another hijacking. neads directed the f-15s to Manhattan, where they established a combat air patrol over New York City at 9:25 a.m., but by now they were low on fuel and there was no urgency to intercept immediately. This was a routine “peacetime” procedure to deconflict air traffic. faa controllers expected a period of time for negotiation, as in past hijackings. And, of course, no one was entirely sure which plane to intercept or even where they were headed. neads placed fighters from Langley Air Force Base in Virginia on battle stations, given the low fuel of the airborne interceptors and evolving events. At the norad Operations Center in Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado Springs, Major-General Eric Findley (Royal Canadian Air Force; rcaf ), the Director of Combat Operations, issued a norad-wide call to battle stations. This meant that all alert aircraft in every air defence sector and region were to be made ready for immediate air defence operations. Findley had been on shift all night to help run the semi-annual norad exercise vIgIlant guardIan. The Russians also had an exercise scheduled on 11 September and had long-range bombers in their high north. norad was tracking this activity as well. The norad Commander, General Ralph Eberhart (usaf ), was en route to the mountain from Peterson Air (now Space) Force Base a few miles away when the first planes hit. By now, the day shift had arrived, doubling the size of the battle staff at Cheyenne Mountain. The Deputy Commander of norad , Lieutenant General Ken Pennie (rcaf ), was in Washington, dc , on the morning of 9/11, having spent the previous day attending meetings at the Pentagon. MGen Findley directed the establishment of an air threat conference to ensure better situational awareness among all norad regions and air defence sectors. Many other agencies (Canadian and American) were added to this operational conference call. Meanwhile, American Airlines Flight 77 (en route from Washington Dulles to Los Angeles), reported missing by the faa and assumed crashed, was “reacquired” by the controllers at both Dulles and Reagan National Airport. The Reagan National controllers vectored

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an unarmed nearby National Guard C130H cargo aircraft to identify and follow the aircraft. The National Guard aircraft reported that the Boeing 757 hit the West Wall of the Pentagon’s E-ring at 9:37 carrying 7,000 gallons of jet fuel.4 The Pentagon was in the midst of its seventh year of renovations, ironically in response to terrorist attacks on the US embassies in Kenya and Tanzania, which had suggested that sites like the Pentagon needed fortifying. Thankfully, this meant that there were far fewer personnel in that part of the building. It also meant that the Pentagon lacked sprinklers and did not meet any current emergency codes in that part of the ring.5 LGen Pennie was picked up by norad personnel in Washington, dc. On his way back to Cheyenne Mountain, he flew over the smouldering wreckage at the Pentagon. By chance, neads was informed about Flight 77 while chasing down reports that American Airlines Flight 11 (the first plane to hit the World Trade Center) might still be airborne. It made sense to clear the skies, and norad and the faa discussed doing so. faa Command Center’s national operations manager Ben Sliney, on his first day in the position, ordered all faa facilities to instruct all aircraft in US airspace to land at the nearest airport and to ground/stop all flight operations. The 9/11 Commission Report notes that 4,500 commercial and general aviation flights landed without incident.6 At 9:36 a.m., faa ’s Boston Center called neads to report that an aircraft was closing in on Washington, dc . Airspace for the Langley fighters was cleared by neads , but those fighters were heading east, not north, for a number of reasons connected to the fog of information and misinformation. They were following normal procedures to deconflict with other air traffic. neads did not have the full radar picture, and the faa had lost the hijacked aircraft after its transponder was turned off by the hijackers. Only when the hijacked aircraft approached close enough to a radar near the airport did the faa reacquire it. By this time, it was clearly too late for neads to intercept the aircraft. Adding to the confusion were several false reports of additional aircraft to track. At 9:59 a.m., fifty-six minutes after being hit, the South Tower in New York (2 wtc ) succumbed to structural damage and collapsed; the North Tower, hit at 8:44 a.m., collapsed at 10:28 a.m. At 5:20 p.m., 7 World Trade Center collapsed due to fire and damage from debris that fell on it from the North Tower.

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norad was blind. Its radars were on the periphery of the United States and Canada looking outward, and the battle control system was designed to prioritize tracks (evidence of air threats) coming at North America from abroad. All new tracks, which were manually entered, would cause another existing track to be deleted, without the operator knowing. Russia cancelled its bomber activity as news of the attacks came out and assured norad personnel that they had no part in what was taking place. norad Exercise vIgIlant guardIan was terminated, and the Russian counter air operation was cancelled. Clearly, the situation was heightening tensions, and the question of how extensive the attacks would become forced the United States to declare Defense Condition 3 (defcon 3) for its forces globally. That was the fastest way to increase military preparedness and implement high force protection and cybersecurity conditions. The last of the hijacked planes, United Airlines Flight 93 (en route from Newark to San Francisco), was tracked by the faa ’s Cleveland Command Center, which requested military assistance from the faa ’s Command Center. While the faa was still fixated on the Pentagon strike, Flight 93 crashed in Pennsylvania at 10:03 a.m. before any action could be taken by the military. No one from the faa had requested military assistance per normal protocol, nor was information about Flight 93 passed along to neads , which was tracking the flight after a call from the military liaison at faa ’s Cleveland Center approximately four minutes after Flight 93 crashed.7 The faa had, however, notified the US Secret Service moments before Flight 93 crashed. The Secret Service, in turn, notified the White House, which informed the National Military Command Center. The Secret Service ordered jets to be scrambled “weapons free” from the Air National Guard at Andrews Air Force Base (now Joint Base Andrews) in Maryland by order of Vice President Dick Cheney via a White House official, although the 9/11 Commission Report notes that the exact timings and order of sequencing of events and who gave what permission is not entirely clear. Regardless, weapons-free meant that the decision to shoot rested with those in the cockpit. In the background, the White House was seeking confirmation from President George W. Bush for a shoot-down of Flight 93 to be communicated to norad for the neads fighter jets, but it was too late. A modified Security Control of Air Traffic was coordinated between norad and the faa . In effect, the faa retained control

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of the airspace, but all aircraft, other than those engaged in air defence and military operations, or first response (medical and law enforcement), were grounded immediately. At 10:24 a.m., the faa announced the diversion of all US-bound transatlantic and transpacific flights to Canada. Every ninety seconds, a pilot requested permission to enter Canadian airspace.8 Canada’s Deputy Minister of Transport Margaret Bloodworth authorized by phone the entry of these flights to Canada. By 11:30 a.m., the Canadian Forces took “executive control” of Canadian airspace; by 12:16 p.m., US airspace was cleared. Operation yellow rIBBon (made famous since then by the Broadway musical Come From Away) was launched at 12:28 p.m. by Transport Minister David Collenette as thousands of stranded international passengers were taken in by communities across Canada, including in Gander, Newfoundland.9 In all, 239 planes, with more than 30,000 people on board, were hosted by Canadians. As fate would have it, Prime Minister Jean Chrétien, who had celebrated his forty-fourth wedding anniversary with his wife Aline the evening before, was one of the few Canadian officials in Ottawa on 9/11. The House of Commons was on summer hiatus, so most of Canada’s key ministers and advisers were not in Ottawa. Foreign Affairs Minister John Manley was on an Air Canada flight from Frankfurt am Main, Germany, and was due to arrive in Toronto later that afternoon. General Ray Henault, Canada’s Chief of the Defence Staff (cds ), had arrived in Hungary from Italy aboard a nato -chartered aircraft around 3:00 p.m. local time (9:00 a.m. et ) and was attending his first Military Committee Tour with fellow nato Chiefs of Defence. Canada’s Minister of National Defence Art Eggleton was in Bulgaria visiting his counterpart for discussions regarding nato training. They each made hurried arrangements to return home as airspaces around the world began to shut. At 10:43 a.m, Transport Canada shut down Canadian airspace, which stranded the US Ambassador to Canada, Paul Cellucci, at Calgary International Airport. Canadian Minister of Transport David Collenette was delivering a keynote speech to more than 2,000 North American airport executives at Montreal’s Palais des Congrès on the morning of 9/11. News of the attacks spread quickly among the attendees and upended his speech. Finance Minister Paul Martin and Industry Minister Brian Tobin were also in Quebec. Health Minister Alan Rock was

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in Manitoba. Justice Minister Anne McLellan and the Solicitor General Lawrence MacAuley were with their provincial counterparts in Nova Scotia. Prime Minister Chrétien was at his residence at 24 Sussex when he received the news of the attacks. He was in a meeting with Saskatchewan premier Lorne Calvert that morning, but had to end it quickly to call his cabinet ministers and consult with staff. Ultimately, he decided on a low-key approach that eschewed quick conclusions about who might be responsible for the attacks.10 The rcmp Commissioner, Giuliano Zaccardelli, the National Revenue Minister, Martin Cauchon, who was also responsible for borders and customs, and Canada’s Ambassador in Washington, Michael Kergin, were all consulted. Chrétien also spoke to Canadian Alliance Leader Stockwell Day and to the leader of the Bloc Québécois Gilles Duceppe. However, Prime Minister Chrétien could not reach President Bush to offer his condolences and support. The Mexican president Vicente Fox Quesada, when he heard about the attacks, immediately cancelled his agenda for the day and summoned his Cabinet to a national security emergency meeting at Los Pinos, the presidential residence. He reportedly spoke with President George W. Bush, and noted in his official remarks addressed to the Mexican people later that day that “I have made known to President George Bush our feelings of sorrow and our solidarity in such difficult moments.”11 During the national security meeting, three different task forces were formed: (1) a Security Task Force, in charge of cross-referencing information about the events happening in New York and Washington in real-time; (2) a Communications and Energy Task Force, which would lead the protection of airports, border points, highways, and facilities related to telecommunications and energy infrastructure; and (3) an Economic Taskforce. The Mexican Armed Forces implemented “Operation Sentinel” (Operación Centinela), which focused on protecting vital infrastructure, such as energy grids.12 Mexican airspace was immediately shut down for the next seventy-two hours, except for incoming flights diverted from the United States right after the attacks. At least 480 flights coming from or going to the United States were cancelled on 9/11. Additionally, 30,000 security and military elements were deployed to protect the US Embassy and Consulates as well as American companies and facilities in Mexico. Finally, transit to and

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from Mexican land border sites was temporarily suspended, though this would slowly reopen the same day. The US President was visiting Emma E. Booker elementary school in Sarasota, Florida, on the morning of 9/11. He was whisked aboard Air Force One (code name Angel), and would remain airborne given the lack of information about the nature and scope of the 9/11 attacks. Angel was escorted by f -16 fighter interceptors.13 All communications on board were challenged by technical problems, which meant that messages to and from Angel were hit and miss. After stops for supplies at Barksdale Air Force Base in Shreveport, Louisiana (home of a US nuclear strike group that had been scheduled to begin Exercise gloBal guardIan earlier that morning),14 and then at Offutt Air Force Base in Omaha, Nebraska, where he was briefed on the day’s events at usstratcom ’s underground bunker,15 the president returned to Washington, dc , at 8:30 p.m. That evening, he addressed the American people and the world. The speech was brief and noted that the immediate priority was to care for the injured and to ensure protection of citizens around the world from further attack. He also foreshadowed the work ahead for Canada, Mexico, and allies when he stated: “America and our friends and allies join with all those who want peace and security in the world, and we stand together to win the war against terrorism. Tonight, I ask for your prayers for all those who grieve, for the children whose worlds have been shattered, for all whose sense of safety and security has been threatened.”16 Altogether, 2,977 people were killed on 9/11, including 2,624 Americans, 24 Canadians, 16 Mexicans, and 313 foreign nationals. The number of Mexicans killed is contested, given the many undocumented Mexicans who served as cleaners and labourers. The more likely number is closer to between 70 and 100. In the weeks, months, and years that followed, many first responders (at least 1,400) and other residents of lower Manhattan succumbed to lung disease and cancer as a result of inhaling the noxious fumes, smoke, and debris emitted from Ground Zero. The sea and air borders to the United States were closed, and the land borders allowed for only a trickle of trucks and vehicles to enter after extra inspections. Kilometres of cars and trucks on the Mexican and Canadian border waited for hours to be processed, because of extra checks and delays.

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a n d B e y o nd Action was needed and demanded. Some changes came quickly; others developed over years. The Central Intelligence Agency (cIa ) was quite certain that the attackers were affiliated with Al Qaeda, and in this regard, the cIa had long been trying to disrupt Al Qaeda abroad.17 Attention quickly turned to Afghanistan, which was controlled by the Taliban. They were known to be harbouring Osama bin Laden, the leader of Al Qaeda, who had established terrorist training camps in their country. Bin Laden was already on the radar of both the United States and the United Nations as the mastermind of the attacks on the US embassies in Nairobi and Dar Es Salaam (7 August 1998) and on the uss Cole (12 October 2000). It was also known that Sudan was supporting international terrorism by allowing bin Laden and his network to train there.18 It was the UN Security Council19 that responded first to 9/11. In the early hours of 12 September, it passed a resolution unanimously that fully supported the United States and unequivocally condemning the terrorist attack and reminding the world of the United States’ inherent right of self-defence enshrined in the UN Charter.20 With the unsc resolution in hand, the United States wasted no time. It sent special forces to Afghanistan, supported by allied forces (including Canada’s Operation apollo ), and launched a multipronged operation called endurIng freedom . This cemented the strategic pivot by the United States and its allies toward the Middle East and successive counterinsurgency (coIn ) doctrines. For more than a decade, coIn served as the security doctrine for the United States and Canada21 as well as many other Western allies. Only after Russia illegally annexed Crimea in 2014 and China heightened its provocations in the South and East China Seas did the allies shift their attention to great power politics and various other forms of extremism. In the late 2020s, right-wing extremist groups began gaining ground in the United States, with the blessing of President Trump. On 6 January 2021, with his encouragement, they attacked the US Capitol, and they remain a concern. On 4 October 2001, nato Secretary-General Lord Robertson informed then Secretary-General of the United Nations Kofi Annan that nato ’s twenty-one members had decided unanimously to invoke Article 5 of the Washington Treaty. The North Atlantic Council – nato’s principal political decision-making body – confirmed that

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the 9/11 attack was directed from abroad against the United States. Terrorism was not entirely new to nato ; its 1999 Strategic Concept recognized it as a growing problem.22 nato launched eight collective defence measures to assist the United States, including the first ever deployment of nato assets to assist norad with additional air surveillance over the continental United States.23 On 26 October 2001, nato launched actIve endeavour , in which elements of nato ’s Standing Naval Forces were sent to patrol the Eastern Mediterranean and monitor shipping to detect and deter terrorist activities, including illegal trafficking. Finally, nato members pledged to share more intelligence and provide blanket overflight clearance for American and other allies’ aircraft engaging in counterterrorism efforts. In the months after 9/11, the UN helped facilitate a summit in Bonn, Germany, with prominent Afghan leaders-in-exile. On 5 December 2001, the “Agreement on Provisional Arrangements in Afghanistan Pending the Re-establishment of Permanent Government Institutions” (the Bonn Agreement), was signed, establishing an Afghan Interim Authority (aIa ). It stipulated that in six months’ time, a Loya Jirga (the traditional Afghan Grand Council) would take over that country’s leadership. To assist the new aIa , the unsc blessed the creation of an International Security Force in Afghanistan (with Chapter VII authority). It was initially led by the United Kingdom.24 On 4 January 2002, the aIa signed a Military Technical Agreement with the International Security Assistance Force (Isaf ). The Isaf focused initially on Kabul and on providing support to the aIa . Isaf was initially a coalition of US allies. It later became a nato -led mission and spread out across the country. At the request of the Afghan government in March 2002 through Security Council Resolution 1401, the unsc also established a political mission called the UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan or unama . The international response to 9/11 was thus set in motion, but there was still the matter of how to protect North America and ensure that a 9/11-like event never happened again. The 9/11 Commission Report (formal title: The Final Report of the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States) would soon become a number-one bestseller.25 The Commission was established 442 days after 9/11 and released its report on 22 July 2004 after interviewing more than 1,000 people in ten countries and

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reviewing two and a half million pages of evidence. Canada features in the report, but mainly for its role in norad , and Mexico is mentioned only four times.26 The commission called for a global strategy focused on the Middle East and for significant changes to better defend the United States. Behemoth organizations, like the Department of Homeland Security (dhs ), were created and given broad mandates to protect the “homeland.” Before this, the closest the United States had come to planning for attacks at home involved “civil defense” after a nuclear attack.27 After all, why would the world’s hegemon need plans to guard the homeland from an attack emanating from inside North America? The US Unified Command Plan (ucp ), which carved the world into geographic and functional combatant commands, was reconfigured so that a geographic command was dedicated to defending North America. US Northern Command (usnorthcom ) defended the domains and areas (such as the US Virgin Islands, Puerto Rico, and the Bahamas) not covered by norad , which at the time was a binational aerospace warning and control command only.28 Canada and Mexico responded as well, but none of their organizations had the scope and scale of their US counterparts, nor did they copy the US approach. Public Safety Canada, established in 2003, sought to coordinate activities among Canada’s various security agencies. There had long been plans for such an agency to respond to events such as y2k in 1999 and the eastern North American ice storm of the year before. The Canadian Forces reorganized in 2006, creating Canada Command (cancom – the precursor to Canadian Joint Operations Canada [cjoc ]), which would be responsible for routine domestic, overseas, and continental operations (except for norad missions). In Mexico, three organizations were created. The Unit Specialized in Investigation of Terrorism and Arms Trafficking (Unidad Especializada en Investigación de Terrorismo, Acopio y Tráfico de Armas; ueIta ) was established in 2003 as part of the Office of the Special Prosecutor for Organized Crime Investigation (Subprocuraduría Especializada en Investigación de Delincuencia Organizada; sIedo ). Also in 2003, an anti-terrorism operations base Ixtoc-Alfa was created, to be run by the Mexican Navy (Armada de México), to prevent 9/11-like attacks on the strategic facilities in Campeche Sound in the Gulf of Mexico, a key economic generator for the country. Finally, the Intelligence Financial Unit (Unidad de Inteligencia Financiera; uIf ) was created in 2004 as part of the

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Mexican Ministry of Treasury (Secretaría de Hacienda y Crédito Público; shcp ) to prevent and combat money laundering and the financing of terrorism. Managing the borders better was the obvious priority for the United States. It soon became preoccupied with ensuring that Canada and Mexico would not be back doors to future attacks. There was a widespread and erroneous belief that the 9/11 attackers had slipped over the US border from Canada,29 and controlling migrants and drugs from Mexico was a perennial concern. In December 2001, Canada and the United States signed the Smart Border Accord, which included thirty measures to improve border security while facilitating trade. Both countries also agreed to the Free and Secure Trade (fast ) program, which would minimize security checks on cross-border trucks. This agreement was signed over the public objections of the American Commissioner of Customs and Border Protection.30 The Security and Prosperity Partnership (spp ) (2005) was a trilateral initiative. Its national security provisions focused largely on providing opportunities for Mexico to involve itself in discussions about cooperation with Canada and the United States.31 This arrangement did not last long, however, and had little impact. The Beyond the Border Action Plan was launched in 2011 to facilitate further coordination between Canada and the United States at shared borders; it included provisions to expand joint leadership on international cybersecurity efforts and to develop a framework for swiftly managing traffic in the event of an emergency. It was at airport checkpoints, however, that Canadians and Mexicans most noticed the scar that 9/11 had left on the United States. Screening at airports became more invasive. As well, the number of restricted items onboard airplanes grew longer and longer, as did the number of names on no-fly lists as a result of “enthusiastic” support by UN member-states, which contributed names to the unsc ’s list of targeted individuals (supposedly the names of Al Qaeda or Al Qaeda–inspired terrorist suspects), who were subject to asset freezes in addition to travel bans.32 Legal challenges soon followed as the world questioned and scrutinized the legislative power of the unsc , given the lack of evidence, transparency, and justifications for the ballooning list.33 Biometric screening quickly came into vogue, and passports became mandatory, even for land travel to and from the United States. Canadians and Mexicans, who were the lion’s share

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of travellers to the United States, were compelled to participate in the US Visitor and Immigrant Status Indicator Technology System (us-vIsIt ),34 which required entry and exit verification to regulate the flows of people in and out of the United States. Canadian nationals were issued exemptions for the Canada–US border, but Mexicans needed a “Laser vIsa ” (more commonly referred to as a “Border Crossing Card” or “Border Crossing Card visa”). Ironically, while the default position of the Canadian, US, and Mexican governments was to negotiate to keep borders open (with exceptions – most notably illegal migrants flowing from Mexico to the southern United States), the Covid-19 pandemic of 2020 and beyond saw the negotiations change: thereafter, the focus was on closing the borders to all but essential travel while ensuring the continued flow of goods through the supply chain. The United States adopted the usa Patriot Act on 26 October 2001 to give law enforcement more powers to prevent terrorism through enhanced surveillance and various other far-reaching measures. Money laundering and the financing of terrorism, for example, were now crimes.35 Canada’s version, the Antiterrorism Act (Bill C-51), did not come into force until 2015, after two domestic terrorist events in Canada. In the first, in rural Quebec on 20 October 2014, Martin “Ahmad” Couture-Rouleau drove his car into two Canadian Forces personnel, killing Warrant Officer Patrice Vincent; in the second, two days later, Corporal Nathan Cirillo, a reservist on ceremonial sentry duty at the National War Memorial in Ottawa, was fatally shot by Michael Zehaf-Bibeau. Al Qaeda became a household word, as did Osama bin Laden, its founder. Bin Laden was killed in Pakistan on 2 May 2011 by US Navy seal s by order of President Barack Obama. The same year marked the end of Canada’s combat mission in Afghanistan. Between 2011 and 2014, Canada shifted to a training role. Mexico’s constitution forbade its armed forces from being deployed internationally.36 However, Mexico was elected to the unsc for 2002–3, 2009–10, and 2021–22, and it kept abreast of military activities in Afghanistan and Iraq. The decision by the United States and the UK to extend the fight against Al Qaeda to Iraq in 2003 without the requisite unsc authority damaged relations among the permanent five members37 of the unsc for years. Mexico was on the unsc at the time and was accused of waffling on its initial position, which was to denounce the US’s action.38 Instead of achieving its initial

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goals, which were to disarm Iraq of weapons of mass destruction, to end Saddam Hussein’s support for terrorism, and to “free” the Iraqi people, the US- and UK-led mission (which Canada and Mexico did not join) “hardened” al Qaeda, which splintered and soon spawned an even more ambitious terrorist group – the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, or IsIl.39 The fight against IsIl spilled over into Syria, which by then was engulfed in a bloody civil war, in which one side was backed by the United States (in support of Syrian Democratic Forces) and the other by Russia (in support of the Syrian Assad regime). IsIl extended its reach into Africa and Asia, where it competed with Al Qaeda for territory and resources. Both groups killed thousands of innocent civilians. During the Afghan mission, Canadians adopted a number of US practices to celebrate their forces, including wearing red on Fridays, putting “Support our Troops’” yellow ribbons on cars, and, of course, standing at attention on overpasses of “the highway of heroes” (the section of Highway 401 leading from Canadian Forces Base Trenton, where Canadians killed in action were repatriated), waving flags and acknowledging their sacrifice in Afghanistan. In 2013, under Prime Minister Harper, the Canadian Forces were rebranded the Canadian Armed Forces (caf ). Goodwill toward the Canadian and US militaries remained exceptionally high until the 2020s, when accusations of sexual misconduct in the Canadian, Mexican, and US militaries tested the public’s confidence.40 It would seem that the shift in focus for the militaries from the various Middle Eastern conflicts to new concerns was providing room for other issues to come to light. Afghanistan, in contrast, was not benefiting from the shifting priorities. Promises to help Afghanistan (and other failed and failing states) to reach UN Millennium Development Goals were too little, too late. Afghanistan was not even close to achieving its goals. Poppy eradication programs seemed to spur more production rather than less, and more than a few Western generals made and ended their careers there. Most tragically, thousands of Afghan civilians and more than 2,300 Americans, 1,044 allied troops, and 158 Canadian soldiers and seven civilians (including a Canadian diplomat) lost their lives in Afghanistan after 2001. Some Canadian and allied soldiers are still living with the effects of Afghanistan, contending with post-traumatic stress disorder and other mental health issues. Some have committed suicide. Afghanistan never came close to achieving

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stability. After the sudden and chaotic pullout of the last US and allied troops to meet an arbitrary deadline to end all military operations before the twentieth anniversary of 9/11, the Taliban were firmly in control. Twenty years of modest gains in the rights afforded Afghan women and girls were erased in a matter of weeks. The effects of climate change were being noted well before 9/11, but the three North American states made little progress toward mitigating them. Mexican troops provided aid to thousands of hungry and homeless American victims of Hurricane Katrina in 2005.41 By 2021, 50 per cent of the military operations conducted by Canada and the majority of usnorthcom ’s missions were in support of civil authorities overwhelmed by fires, floods, hurricanes, and other consequences of climate change, and during the pandemic, they provided significant assistance to ensure vaccine rollouts. In 2022, the focus of Canada and the United States is on continental defence and norad modernization to deter Russian and Chinese aggression; terrorism has all but fallen off national security agendas. Mexico, meanwhile, continues to receive thousands of migrants from Central and South America, who are fleeing despotic regimes and the effects of climate change and trying to make their way to the United States. Since 9/11, the United States, Canada, and Mexico have all shifted their focus to climate change and Russian and Chinese aggression, and their policies and processes have followed. This book unpacks what has changed since 9/11 and what has not, especially for Canada and Mexico. not e s The authors are very grateful for the comments by Drs Jane Boulden and Kim Richard Nossal. Any remaining errors and omissions are the fault of the authors alone. 1 The date initially chosen was the regular opening day of the annual sessions of the General Assembly on the third Tuesday of September, which, in 2001, fell on 11 September. The day was changed to September 21 via un General Assembly (unga) Resolution 55/282 passed on 28 September 2001 found at https://documents-dds-ny.un.org/doc/UNDOC/GEN/ N00/576/07/PDF/N0057607.pdf?OpenElement. No mention of the events of 9/11 is made. Rather, the need to fix a day separate from the opening of the General Assembly is noted; it had been

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discussed and adopted at a General Assembly meeting on 7 September 2001 (A/55/PV.111). The 9/11 Commission Report: Final Report of the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks upon the United States (9/11 Report) (Washington dc, 2004), 20. There was a small delay before the call to neads was made to confirm information. All times in this chapter are Eastern Standard Time (et ) unless otherwise specified. Ibid., 21. Ibid., 25–6. Killed in the crash were 125 military personnel along with 55 passengers and 6 crew. 9/11 Commission Report, 29. Ibid., 31. Government of Canada’s Response to the Terrorist Attacks of 9/11 is found at https://www.publicsafety.gc.ca/cnt/ntnl-scrt/cntr-trrrsm/ sptmbr-11th/gvrnmnt-rspns-en.aspx. Ibid. Mark Kennedy, “9/11 puts Aviation Network to the Test,” Montreal Gazette, 6 September 2011, https://www.wingsmagazine.com/9-11put-canadas-aviation-network-to-test-5838/. Associated Press, “Address by President Fox,” 21 July 2015, https://www. youtube.com/watch?v=K2oxWGUwuj8. Raúl Benítez Manaut y Carlos Rodríguez Ulloa, “Seguridad y Frontera en Norte América: Del tlcan al Aspan,” in Seguridad y Defensa en América del Norte: Nuevos Dilemas Geopolíticos, ed. Raúl Benítez Manaut (San Salvador,: Fundación Dr. Guillermo Manuel Ungo fundaungo , April 2010), 221–44. Garrett M. Graff, “The Only Plane in the Sky,” Politico Magazine, 9 September 2016, https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2016/09/ were-the-only-plane-in-the-sky-214230. The exercise simulated an attack against “Slovonia” – a fictitious state. History Channel, “9/11: Inside Air Force One,” 11 September 2019. https://www.history.com/specials/911-inside-air-force-one. Presidential Address, 11 September 2001, cspan (Washington, dc ), https://www.c-span.org/video/?165970-1/presidential-address. The 9/11 Commission Report, 47–70. The unsc applied sanctions against Sudan, and the United States delivered an ultimatum to Sudan to oust bin Laden in the 1990s. Indeed, Sudan harboured Carlos the Jackal (Venezuelan militant), Abu Nidal (founder of

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Fatah), and other terrorist leaders. Bin Laden then fled for Afghanistan. See Andrea Charron, UN Sanctions and Conflict: Responding to Peace and Security Threats (New York: Routledge, 2011), esp. 153–78. Canada did not list Al Qaeda as a terrorist entity until 23 July 2002, even though Canada was mandated to comply with mandatory unsc measures. See Public Safety Canada’s Terrorism List at https://www.publicsafety.gc.ca/ cnt/ntnl-scrt/cntr-trrrsm/lstd-ntts/crrnt-lstd-ntts-en.aspx#6. Mexico pointed to Al Qaeda on the unsc ’s consolidated list of sanctioned individuals that was adopted on 6 October 2001. The unsc also passed other terrorism-related resolutions, including s/res/1373 (2001), which made it mandatory for all states to criminalize the financing of international terrorism, followed by s/res /1540 (2004), which required states to prevent the sale of material and technology in weapons of mass destruction to non-state actors. The United States was the lead drafter of these resolutions. The unsc unanimously adopted s/res /1368 on 12 September 2001. See s/pv. 4370 (2011) for the verbatim minutes of the meeting. In addition to the Permanent Members (China, France, Russia, United Kingdom, and United States), Bangladesh, Colombia, Ireland, Jamaica, Mali, Mauritius, Norway, Singapore, Tunisia, and Ukraine were on the Council. Article 51 enshrines the right of collective and self-defence in the UN Charter. Responding to a major terrorist attack was third among the critical missions listed for the Canadian Forces in the Canada First Defence Strategy (2008) under Harper. nato, The Alliance’s Strategic Concept, Press Release nac-s (99) 65 (24 April 1999). See esp. paragraph 24:“Any armed attack on the territory of the Allies, from whatever direction, would be covered by Articles 5 and 6 of the Washington Treaty. However, Alliance security must also take account of the global context. Alliance security interests can be affected by other risks of a wider nature, including acts of terrorism, sabotage and organised crime, and by the disruption of the flow of vital resources.” Seven Airborne Early Warning and Control (awac ) radar aircraft were deployed to the US. Operation Eagle Assist – from mid-October 2001 to mid-May 2002 – required a total of 830 crew members from 13 nato countries flying more than 360 sorties. See https://www.nato.int/cps/en/ natohq/topics_110496.htm#:~:text=Article%205%20provides%20 that%20if,to%20assist%20the%20Ally%20attacked. s/res/1386, 20 December 2001. The authors included five Republicans and five Democrats: Thomas Kean

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(Chair – R), Lee Hamilton (Vice Chair – D), Richard Ben-Veniste (D), Bob Kerrey (D), Fred Fielding (R), John Lehman (R), Jamie Gorelick (D), Timothy Roemer (D), Slade Gorton (R), and James Thompson (R). There were nine white men and one white woman (Gorelick). The 9/11 Commission Report, 81, 203, 388–90. Chappell Lawson and Alan Bersin, “Homeland Security Comes of Age,” in Beyond 9/11: Homeland Security for the Twenty-First Century, ed. Chappell Lawson, Alan Bersin, and Juliette Kayyem (Cambridge, ma : mIt Press, 2020), 1. usnorthcom’s area of responsibility includes air, land, and sea approaches and encompasses the continental United States, Alaska, Canada, Mexico, and the surrounding waters out to approximately 500 nautical miles. It also includes the Gulf of Mexico, the Straits of Florida, and portions of the Caribbean region including the Bahamas, Puerto Rico, and the US Virgin Islands. The commander of usnorthcom is responsible for theatre security cooperation with Canada, Mexico, and the Bahamas. Even Hillary Clinton, who was then a US Senator from New York, said that the United States should lobby Canada to tighten border security: “We need to look to our friends in the north to crack down on some of these false documents and illegals getting in.” See Janice Kennedy, “Blame Canada: Hillary Clinton Does It Again,” Ottawa Citizen, 23 August 2003, E5; and the popular tv series The West Wing, which after 9/11 rewrote the new season opener in which a Middle Eastern terrorist has crossed the border from Canada to the United States. Finally, the 9/11 Commission Report refers to Canada’s “lenient immigration laws,” 81. Stephen Azzi and Norman Hillmer, “Intolerant Allies: Canada and the George W. Bush Administration, 2001–2005,” Diplomacy and Statecraft 27, no. 4 (2016): 30–1. Greg Anderson and Christopher Sands, Negotiating North America: The Security and Prosperity Partnership (Washington, dc : Hudson Institute, 2008). s/res/1276 (1999) and the subsequent resolutions established an extensive list of individuals banned from travel expanding into the thousands. Today, it stands at 428. Now called the IsIl and Al Qaeda Sanctions Committee, it continues to add names to the travel ban and asset freeze list. See https://www.un.org/securitycouncil/sanctions/1267. Thomas Biersteker, “Targeted Sanctions and Individual Human Rights,” International Journal 65, no. 1 (Winter 2009–10): 99–117.

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34 Héctor R. Ramírez Partida, “Post-9/11 U.S. Homeland Security Policy Changes and Challenges: A Policy Impact Assessment of the Mexican Front,” Norteamérica 9, no. 1 (January–June 2014): 55–78. 35 You can find a copy of the act at https://www.fincen.gov/resources/statutes-regulations/usa-patriot-act. 36 Mexico contributed eight military observers to the UN Mission in Haiti (mInustah ) in 2016. Slowly, they are contributing more personnel to un missions. 37 The five permanent members of the unsc are China, France, Russia, the United Kingdom, and the United States – all with veto powers. 38 Ginger Thompson with Clifford Krauss, “Threats and responses: Security Council; Anti-war fever puts Mexico in quandary on Iraq vote,” New York Times, 28 February 2003, https://www.nytimes.com/2003/02/28/ world/threats-responses-security-council-antiwar-fever-puts-mexicoquandary-iraq-vote.html. Mexico had voted yes for s/res /1441 (2002) (passed unanimously), which required an enhanced inspection regime to ensure Iraq’s compliance with its disarmament obligations. For a transcript of the infamous presentation by Mr Colin Powell, US Secretary of State, to the unsc on 5 February 2003 to convince the unsc that Iraq had violated s/res /1441, see s/pv .4701, https://documents-dds-ny.un.org/ doc/UNDOC/PRO/N03/236/00/PDF/N0323600.pdf?OpenElement. 39 Canada preferred “Daesh” after its Arabic name “al-Dawla al-Islamiya fil Iraq wa al-Sham.” Phonetically, however, Daesh is very close to an Arabic term for “trampled” and was considered pejorative. 40 Statistics Canada produced a number of reports, the first in 2016, followed by two in 2019. The caf has created new positions and directorates to address the issues. In the United States, in 2021, at the direction of President Biden, Secretary of Defense Lloyd J. Austin III ordered a 90-Day Independent Review Commission (Irc ) on Sexual Assault in the Military to take bold action to address sexual assault and harassment in the military. The Irc made recommendations related to the following: accountability; prevention; climate and culture; and victim care and support. See https://www.defense.gov/Spotlights/Independent-ReviewCommission-on-Sexual-Assault-in-the-Military. In Mexico, government efforts to acknowledge sexual misconduct in its military started as part of a general implementation of public policies on Human Rights and Gender Equality in the late 1990s, but progress has been glacial, as a few reports suggest. https://insightcrime.org/news/brief/mexico-military-accused-ofsexual-abuse.

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41 undrr , “How Mexico’s Army Builds Resilience,” UN Office for Disaster Risk Reduction, 14 March 2017, https://www.undrr.org/news/howmexicos-army-builds-resilience.

pa r t o n e

North America

3 What Was Once So Near, Is Now Very Far: The “North American Idea” after 9/11 Greg Anderson

The 1994 North American Free Trade Agreement (nafta ) was negotiated in times of post–Cold War euphoria about the inevitability of liberal capitalism and liberal democracy as the possible future of global governance. Everywhere one looked, multilateral and regional integration schemes were on the rise. These included the transformation of the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (gatt ) into the World Trade Organization (wto ), the deepening of the European project, and the Common Market of the Southern Cone, to name a few. The ink on nafta had barely dried when proponents of even closer integration began thinking about building on what the nafta had constructed. For them, nafta could serve as the scaffolding on which an efficient, seamless continental economy could be built – or at least that was the “Idea.” For the balance of the 1990s, that “Idea” muddled along, shored up by academics, blue-ribbon panels, annual nafta ministerials, and occasional gatherings of heads of state. The 9/11 attacks changed everything, for they brought about a dramatically expanded security agenda, which included a rethink of what a more integrated North America might look like (also covered by David Haglund and Parts Three and Four of this volume), in ways even proponents of integration had dared not contemplate in the early 1990s. In many ways, that rethink was a failure, in that it marked the steady decline of the “Idea” in public policy thinking, as well as a return to a conception of North America as the product of two bilateral relationships anchored by Washington. In retrospect, nafta

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was the high-water mark for North American trilateralism. The years since 9/11 can be viewed today as the nail in the coffin of the “North American Idea.” They marked the beginning of anti-trade populism, the election of Donald Trump, the fraying of the nafta , and the rapid retreat of anything resembling the kind of trilateralism that could underwrite that “Idea.” This chapter has three parts. It begins with a brief review of the contention over what the North American Idea is, its merits, and its decline as a coherent field of public policy scholarship. The focus then shifts to the tumultuous years of policy activity after 9/11 and the growing populist opposition that eventually erased nearly all of the potential to realize parts of the “Idea.” The chapter ends with a look at the consequences of that failure in terms of what remains of North America after the near-dismantling of nafta between 2017 and 2019. This chapter is something of a eulogy to two of the foremost scholars of North American integration: American University’s Robert Pastor (1947–2014) and the University of Toronto’s Stephen Clarkson (1937–2016). Anyone involved in the public debate about North American integration would have been deeply familiar with their work; Pastor was a passionate advocate, and originator of the phrase “the North American Idea”;1 Clarkson was an ardent Canadian nationalist who was skeptical of that same “Idea.” Indeed, in 2008 Clarkson wrote an entire book titled Does North America Exist?2 This chapter begins with these two contending visions of North America. It will end by answering Clarkson’s question by arguing that 9/11 accelerated the decline of the “Idea” so that whatever existed of it now hangs by the thinnest of threads.

I . sI x d e g r e e s o f Integrat I on At first blush, Robert Pastor and Stephen Clarkson could not be more different: Pastor the hard-charging, sometimes irascible public intellectual and evangelist for North America, Clarkson the mild-mannered academic with a notable modesty given his scholarly reputation. Yet they also had much in common. Indeed, while their views on North American integration diverged, their ideological differences were less stark than some have assumed. At the time of the heated debates about free trade in North America in the late 1980s and early 1990s, Clarkson had a long progressive pedi-

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gree, having spent most of the 1970s dabbling in Marxist-Leninist theories of development, eventually turning his critical eye toward the neoliberalism of the 1980s and the advance of free trade.3 By the time Pastor started thinking about North America, he had written about US trade policy from his position at Emory University, helped craft US policy toward Latin America in the Carter administration, and worked on democracy and elections at the Carter Center for many years.4 But their most important shared attribute was their late-career passion for studying North American integration. Both gave their time generously to students, to young scholars, and to each other, often inviting the other to comment on their work or appear jointly at meetings. In many respects, the years immediately after nafta was implemented in January 1994 were a high-water mark for intellectual and public policy contributions to a host of issues embedded in what we now casually refer to as “globalization.” Indeed, in the afterglow of Francis Fukuyama’s famous declaration that we had reached the “end of history,” it seemed as though the entire planet was rapidly liberalizing its politics and economics. In this regard, 1994 was a very big year. In addition to the birth of nafta , that year saw the members of gatt complete their long-delayed Uruguay Round of trade liberalization, in the process transforming what had been a stopgap organization of twenty-three members created in the midst of rising Cold War tensions into the wto , which now has more than 160 members. nafta was merely one example of an explosion of regional integration schemes in this period. In December 1994, all of the Western Hemisphere (except for Cuba, because it was not a democracy) launched the ambitious Free Trade Area of the Americas (ftaa ). That same year, mercosur , the Southern Common Market, deepened regional economic ties among its South American members. And, of course, the most ambitious regional project of them all, the European Union, was implementing the 1992 Maastrict Treaty, which included plans for monetary union in 1999. Yet storm clouds were already forming. US President Bill Clinton spent much of his early political capital pushing for nafta ’s ratification in Congress. It turned into something of a Pyrrhic victory in the wake of two devastating blows. The first of these was the Zapatista Rebellion, launched on nafta’s first day of implementation and designed to draw attention

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to the inequality that had been exacerbated by the rapid advance of global capitalism in some of Mexico’s poorest states. The second was the Peso Crisis of late 1994, which forced the Clinton administration into a politically embarrassing bailout of its newest trade partner. This tainted nafta so deeply that Clinton seldom mentioned the agreement again for the rest of his presidency. By 1997, triumphal optimism was morphing into increasing doubts, perhaps typified by Dani Rodrik’s influential book Has Globalization Gone Too Far?5 Yet it wasn’t until the November 1999 wto Ministerial Meeting and the notorious Battle in Seattle that doubts about the pace and trajectory of trade liberalization entered the broader public consciousness. By this time, the nafta was becoming a four-letter slur, a kind of shorthand for everything that was “wrong” with the global economy. Robert Pastor and Stephen Clarkson found themselves swimming in this increasingly toxic stew. In early 2001, Pastor was about to publish a new manuscript on the future of North America: Toward a North American Community: Lessons from the Old World for the New.6 It was a vision of a more closely knit North American economic, social, and political governance that would build on what nafta had started. This book directly compared North America with the enormous postwar integration project unfolding in Europe. Pastor’s fundamental conclusion was that Europe had too many institutions, was overgoverned, and risked undercutting aspects of the impetus for the integration project. By contrast, North America was, in spite of nafta , hampered by the relative absence of institutional structure, and Pastor believed this had limited the mutual benefits that could be enjoyed by all three countries. For good or ill, Pastor’s book became a kind of bullseye for anyone thinking about the future of North America. For those who wanted to build on what nafta had started, it was a kind of roadmap for augmenting the benefits of North American integration while respecting each country’s unique history, culture, and sovereignty, for it encompassed a customs union, expanded labour mobility, and select areas of policy coordination aimed in part at closing the gaps between Mexico and its nafta partners. For skeptics, Pastor’s analysis highlighted the weaknesses of the nafta ’s structure and served as a warning shot across the bow that Europe’s path should not be replicated. One of these skeptics of North American integration was Stephen Clarkson, whose doubts were anchored in nationalist anxieties

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about Canada becoming too enmeshed in the US economic and political orbit. Indeed, some of Clarkson’s earliest writing on the subject of canus relations fretted about the political implications of economic dependence on the United States. In Clarkson’s view, the relationship was starkly asymmetrical, and this had long challenged Canada’s ability to maintain its autonomy as a sovereign state. As Canada contemplated free trade with the United States in the late 1980s, he worried about the implications of formalizing deeper economic ties for a host of other issues such as how to chart an independent foreign policy, defend Canadian culture, and manage natural resources. Odds and Ends All three governments continued to talk optimistically about “reinvigorating nafta .” Part of this involved halting progress on a built-in agenda anchored in the twenty-nine working groups created by the agreement. The annual communiqués of the nafta Commission (comprised of trade ministers) – the only trilateral meeting created by the agreement – offered platitudes about trilateral work. However, nothing resembling Pastor’s North American Community was ever contemplated. The Clinton administration was not uninterested in trade, but it spent its remaining political capital on winning support for China’s entry into the wto in 1999 – perhaps, in retrospect, a much more fraught enterprise. The United States was hardly the only nafta country reluctant to advance trilaterally toward a more integrated community. nafta was not a trilateral project in its conception. Indeed, as Geoffrey Hale chronicles in his chapter, nafta only became trilateral after Mexico City proposed free trade with Washington in February 19907 and Ottawa sought to participate as a matter of self-defence; Ottawa had inked its own deal with Washington in 1988 and didn’t want Mexico City getting a better one. Indeed, the historical ambivalence between Ottawa and Mexico City has been, and remains, an important impediment to trilateralism.8 President Ronald Reagan’s ambiguous call in 1979 for a North American Accord had taken flight in the form of nafta .9 But as the 1990s drew to a close, prospects for going any further had dimmed considerably, as had the broader public and political appetite for

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trade liberalization. The concept of trilateralism existed on paper (nafta ), but was a long way from reality. Moreover, any political capital for trade liberalization was being spent on much bigger projects, like the wto and the proposed Free Trade Area of the Americas (ftaa ). Then, in an instant, 9/11 made North America relevant again.

I I . s m a r t Bo r d e r s a n d the nas pp, 2001–09 The 9/11 attacks were a remarkable turning point in terms of the energy devoted to thinking about North America. The closing of North America’s airspace and near closure of land borders on that day concentrated minds on what North America could be in ways that nafta and its aftermath could not. nafta had always been envisioned as a rather shallow agreement over preferences, with minimal pooling of sovereignty; 9/11 now prompted serious consideration of whether it was time to move closer to the “North American Idea.” The increased control over North America’s airspace as well as thickening land borders (see the chapter by Kevin Budning and Fen Hampson) sent existential shudders through the hearts of policy-makers and parts of the private sector. All three governments had invested heavily in the pursuit of rules-based, barrier-free flow of goods, capital, and (to a limited degree) labour. Private-sector actors, who had invested heavily in ever more cost-efficient just-in-time supply chains, which depended on open, predictable land borders, were suddenly vulnerable. Indeed, supply chain management had become so lean and precise that auto manufacturing came to a halt just days after borders checks were slowed down. Perhaps more generally, 9/11 quickly laid bare the persistently deep asymmetries of power among the three countries.10 So in late 2001, with the blessing of a preoccupied George W. Bush administration in Washington, the Chrétien government in Ottawa proposed a set of concrete ideas for enhancing border security that overtly linked security to commercial openness. When those ideas were formally announced as the Canada–US Smart Border Declaration in February 2002,11 it was clear that a number of leftovers, orphans, and discarded initiatives from various efforts to “reinvigorate” parts of the North American agenda had been cobbled together into a shopping list of thirty proposals covering everything from immigration and

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customs inspection to trusted traveller programs, refugee and asylum procedures, data-sharing, joint border interdiction teams, and harmonization of biometric identifiers. In March 2002, Mexico announced a nearly identical set of twenty-two proposals with a slightly different name: the US-Mexico Border Partnership Action Plan.12 In some respects, it looked as if the Three Amigos were finally on the same page and working on a common set of objectives. Was this the start of work toward the North American Idea? Hardly. Indeed, the mere fact that there were two separate border action plans was a clear indication that even the semblance of trilateralism had been on life support for some time. Moreover, the smart border plans were effectively the starting point for the formal rebilateralization of North America, or North America as the story of two separate, asymmetrical relationships anchored on Washington.13 As all three governments worked to implement the two border accords, work began on what initially seemed to be an ambitious, genuinely trilateral project called the North American Security and Prosperity Partnership (spp ), formally hatched at Waco, Texas, in 2005.14 On the surface, the spp looked like an ambitious leap toward the North American Idea, one that would include enshrining annual leaders’ meetings. Yet it was also clear by the first North American Leaders’ Summit (nals ) that there were problems on the horizon. Canada’s agnosticism toward Mexico bled into lingering hand-wringing over its “special relationship” with Washington after President Bush chose Mexican President Vicente Fox, rather than Chrétien, for his first foreign visit (February 2001). Bush’s address to Congress on 20 September 2001 strongly suggested that Mexico had replaced Canada and Great Britain as America’s best friend. Yet these issues paled in comparison to the backlash provoked by the flaws in the spp . The initial spp Working Group Report to Leaders in June 2005 identified more than 300 separate irritants for one or more of the three governments.15 The spp offered an unruly and possibly unrealistic agenda and provided ammunition for a host of anti-globalization and anti-immigrant nationalists in all three countries. Those problems were compounded by bureaucratic/executive overreach (if only in appearance) and a lack of transparency. Moreover, the spp offered no role whatsoever for participation by national legislatures or civil society.

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For proponents of the North American Idea, the spp was a frustrating, low-ambition initiative designed to avoid legislative battles as well as public opposition by working within existing authority. On both counts, the spp managed to do the opposite. Unfortunately, the 2005 launch of the spp was also its high point. By 2007, only one of its initial sponsors, George W. Bush, was still in office. As Athanasios Hristoulas notes in his chapter, references to the spp in nals declarations disappeared in 2008, and the spp was purged from government websites the following year. It seemed that the North American Idea had imploded yet again. The legacy of the spp is undistinguished; there are no more summits, and two increasingly separate agendas are now anchored on Washington, dominated by security as applied to the continent’s two increasingly hardened international border crossings. Other authors in this volume evaluate the uneven impact of 9/11 on Ottawa’s and Mexico City’s bilateral relationships with Washington. Here, I simply note that the impact of 9/11 on the North American Idea was to accelerate its demise. The North American Idea continued to take hits after the effective demise of the spp and nals processes. In 2009, Canada suddenly imposed a new visa requirement on Mexican nationals, who it was claimed, were abusing Canada’s asylum rules. The new visa requirement effectively cut off an embryonic northbound leisure travel market. Under Prime Minister Stephen Harper, “rebilateralization” accelerated, in part out of a belief held by the prime minister and many of those around him that Canada could advance its interests in Washington more effectively without the baggage (immigration, drug trafficking) that Mexico brought to the table.16 Meanwhile, as traces of the spp and nals were removed from government websites in 2009, Canada and Mexico advanced their respective bilateral tracks with Washington, often on the exact same issues, and giving their initiatives nearly identical names: the Canada–US Regulatory Cooperation Council (February 2011), the US-Mexico High-Level Regulatory Cooperation Council (March 2011), the US–Mexico Framework on Clean Energy and Climate Change (2009), and the Canada–US Clean Energy Dialogue (2009). After his election victory in 2015, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau promised to reverse course with respect to Mexico, eventually making good on his promise to relax the visa travel requirement.17

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One underlying set of blows to the “Idea” of North America was the declining commitment to academic and public policy scholarship about North America at a time when it was arguably needed the most. Long-standing ideas were pulled off the shelf and cobbled into the Smart Border Accords and the ill-fated spp . But the dearth of sustained academic research into what the North American Idea could be was indicative of how little support the Idea had among the three governments. Contrast this with the European Union, which provided generous academic funding to study itself. Since the late 1980s, the eu has established more than 160 European Centres of Excellence and nearly 900 Jean Monet Chairs, in addition to earmarking billions of euros for the Erasmus+ Programme, which supports student mobility connected to European studies.18 Billions of euros have been devoted to supporting European Commission priorities at every level of the education system. In higher education, for example, the eu awarded sixteen Monnet Chairs to scholars based at North American universities between 2012 and 2018 (nine for Canada, seven for the US, and one for Mexico), while also establishing fourteen Monnet Centres of Excellence (three in Canada, eleven in the US).19 By contrast, no state-backed research funds dedicated to the study of North America have been directed at universities in any of the nafta countries. The few research clusters and centres that were created encountered a bleak funding environment that resulted in their consolidation or elimination.20 In Canada there are more than 1,800 Canada Research Chairs, not one of which is devoted to understanding North American integration or Canada’s relationship with its most important trading partner, the United States.21 All of this was made worse in 2012 when Ottawa eliminated all Canadian Studies funding in the United States, a considerable amount of which had been going to the study of North American integration. In 2017, there were eight Jean Monnet Chairs based at Canadian universities, each dedicated to facilitating an understanding of Europe. Regretably, one of the few remaining research centres dedicated to North America isn’t even in North America – the John F. Kennedy Institute for North American Studies is housed at the Free University of Berlin, founded in 1963.22 In 2002, the United States created the dhs , which was up and running by 2003. The dhs was the largest reorganization of the US federal government since the creation of the national security

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bureaucracy in the 1940s. Cobbled together from twenty-two existing agencies and with nearly 200,000 employees, the leviathan of dhs has focused all of its energies on fortifying and defending North America’s two international borders.23 Although John Gilmour notes the uniqueness of Canada’s post-9/11 national security structure, the advent of the dhs influenced Canadian and Mexican thinking about how to align their bureaucracies to facilitate and enhance cooperation with the United States. The robust post-9/11 security agenda briefly revived broad thinking and policy discussion about the North American Idea. But the dominance of dhs , with its largely defensive law-enforcement culture, made movement toward the “Idea” a virtual non-starter. If its founding in 2003 didn’t mark the end of the “Idea” of North America, the firebrand economic nationalism of President Trump was surely the final stake through the heart of the “Idea.”

III . n a f t a , 1 9 9 4–2019 Just months after Donald Trump’s election as President of the United States, his threat to withdraw from nafta concentrated minds and refocused attention on both the agreement and what that threat meant for North America as a region. The populist rhetoric of the 2016 US Presidential campaign, much of it directed toward supposed flaws in nafta (“The worst agreement ever . . .”), and more specifically toward Mexico, cast a pall. Instead of looking for ways to advance, deepen, or “fix” nafta ’s supposed ills, the renegotiation process took a largely defensive posture. The hope was to prevent the erosion of the nafta ’s benefits rather than build upon them. The renegotiation of nafta was very different from the process that brought it into being. Even so, as far as the façade of trilateralism was concerned, the two sets of talks were eerily similar. Recall that Canada’s interest in nafta was mostly defensive; Ottawa didn’t want Mexico City to get a better deal from the Americans, but at the same time, it often let the Mexicans deal with the United States on their own.24 In the spring of 2017, when the nafta renegotiation was launched, all three parties maintained that it would be a trilateral negotiation aimed at modernizing the existing structure. Canada and Mexico, in particular, made public efforts to project solidarity in their dealings with Washington. Indeed, Prime Minister Trudeau and

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President Peña Nieto made a public show of their new-found solidarity in advance of a June 2016 “Three Amigos’” summit, which included President Obama. That solidarity lasted through the announced modernization of the nafta in March 2017 and all the way through the early summer of 2018, when Canada suddenly disappeared from the negotiations. At least officially, the Canadians were in regular communication with their Mexican and American counterparts as those two parties sorted out issues specific to their bilateral relationship. However, when the United States and Mexico suddenly announced in late August of 2018 that they had struck a deal, it placed significant pressure on Canada to not only re-engage with the process but also find some way to strike a deal or be left out. The deal struck in October 2018, and modified toward the end of 2019, did improve the thirty-year old nafta by grafting text from recent pacts, such as the much-maligned Trans-Pacific Partnership. However, by any standard of evaluation, nafta 2.0 (i.e., the Canada, United States, Mexico Agreement [cusma ])25 has undercut notions of trilateralism and regional coordination, once again reducing North America to two bilateral relationships anchored by Washington. The cusma does so in three important areas. First, the Trump administration was obsessed with toughening the rules for qualifying for tariff-free treatment, and it directed most of those changes toward the perceived effects of low-cost Mexican labour, especially in automobile manufacturing. Mexican auto manufacturers now face a complex $17/hr minimum wage and a 75 per cent North American content rule to qualify for tariff-free treatment at the border. Labour rights advocates cheered the new rules, and so did organized labour in the United States and Canada, since the new thresholds would be much harder for Mexican manufacturers to achieve. Inexplicably, the cusma has eliminated dispute settlement mechanisms between the United States and Mexico; that is, disagreements between Mexico and the United States over dumping and subsidies will no longer have recourse to such mechanisms. nafta ’s dispute resolution mechanisms regarding trade had always faced criticism, but at least they allowed reasoned arguments to be made against their arbitrary application.26 It is puzzling that Mexico abandoned these mechanisms, given how hard it had fought to have them included in nafta . Canada similarly insisted that dispute settlement be enshrined in nafta and dug its heels in to maintain them between

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the United States and Canada in the cusma . Yet, for notions of trilateralism, the lack of alarm over their elimination vis-à-vis Mexico is troubling, since the mechanisms’ reduction to bilateral applicability weakens their import. A similarly odd outcome of the cusma relates to investment disputes. The investor/state dispute settlement (Isds) mechanisms contained in nafta ’s Chapter 11 began raising controversies in the 1990s wherever they were deployed.27 In response to criticisms from civil society organizations and anxieties from governments themselves, numerous reforms to Isds were being implemented around the world – everything from the elimination of Isds to world investment courts. Under the cusma , Canada and the US have agreed to eliminate the bilateral application of dispute settlement in investment. Mexico and the US, on the other hand, have agreed to continue applying Isds, but only in a narrowly defined set of sectors, most of which have to do with government contracting related to petrochemicals. In each of these areas, the cusma has eroded the broad application of trade rules to all three countries. Instead, we now have an uneven patchwork of trilateral and bilateral rules in important areas under the cusma , which together undercut the broader objective of a unified, efficient, North American economic space. In their chapter, Budning and Hampson refer to this regression as nafta 0.8 rather than nafta 2.0.

c o n c l u sIon In the wake of the cusma ’s retreat from trilateralism, many observers noted that it could have been worse. But for proponents of the North American Idea, the outcome of the cusma represented another big step away from the “idea” after 9/11 as an intellectual and policy guide for continental interaction. As Robert Pastor watched the post-9/11 debate about North America become overwhelmed by security concerns, his solution was to promote the aspirational “Idea” of a North America embodying ever deepening trilateral ties. As Clarkson watched the same events, he turned his lifetime of skepticism about continental integration toward answering the question Does North America Exist? In 2008, his answer was qualified. He wrote that North America is a geographic entity. But it had not become a community in the sense that Mexicans,

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Americans, and Canadians think of themselves primarily as members of their continent. There is a new, albeit weak, but also inflexible, legal-institutional reality with numerous rules and norms. In 2008, North America also had some coherence as a market, particularly in sectors connected to US multinationals. Moreover, trade and investment have increased substantially, albeit separately along the US–Mexico and US–Canada axes, with trinational automobile supply chains providing a notable exception.28 Neither Pastor (d. 2014) nor Clarkson (d. 2016) lived to see the advent of the cusma . Pastor had been frustrated for some time at how nafta had become a “piñata for pandering pundits and politicians.”29 He would undoubtedly have been horrified at the populist xenophobia that infused Donald Trump’s attacks on most elements of the “Idea.” He would have been equally offended by the rhetoric, but perhaps less surprised at the outcome. Interestingly, Clarkson and Pastor were on the same page in terms of their assessment of North America as an incomplete, fragile scaffolding, overwhelmed by security, and too heavily oriented toward trade. Both focused on similar consequences of that incompleteness for development, inequality, the environment, and policy coordination around a host of other issues. While Pastor tirelessly advanced the “Idea” and Clarkson remained skeptical of its utility, both would have been disappointed in the implications of the patchwork that the “Idea” continues to become. As the title of this chapter suggests, the continent has periodically flirted with the creation of a unique community anchored around a more integrated economic and, since 9/11, security space. The terrorist attacks of 9/11 briefly put the “Idea” back on the agenda. But security quickly overwhelmed any semblance of further economic cooperation, paving the way for a return to two asymmetrical relationships anchored in Washington (Hale’s “dual bilateralism”). All of this has been exacerbated by the demise of nafta itself as the pre-eminent symbol of progress toward the “Idea.” not e s 1 Robert Pastor, The North American Idea: A Vision of a Continental Future (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011). 2 Stephen Clarkson, Does North America Exist? Governing the Continent after nafta and 9/11 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008).

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3 Stephen Clarkson, Soviet Theory of Development: India and the Third World in Marxist-Leninist Scholarship (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1972); Stephen Clarkson and Stepan Wood, A Perilous Imbalance: The Globalization of Canadian Law and Governance (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2009); Stephen Clarkson, ed., An Independent Foreign Policy for Canada? (McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1968); Stephen Clarkson, “Economics: The New Hemispheric Fundamentalism,” in The Political Economy of North American Free Trade, ed. Ricardo Greenspun and Maxwell Cameron (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1993), 61–9. 4 Robert A. Pastor, Congress and the Politics of US Foreign Economic Policy, 1929–1976 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1980); Robert A. Pastor, “Continuity and Change in US Foreign Policy: Carter and Reagan on El Salvador,” Journal of Policy Analysis and Management 3, no. 2 (1984): 175–90; Robert A. Pastor, “Exiting the Labyrinth,” Journal of Democracy 11, no. 4 (2000): 20–4; Robert A. Pastor, “The United States and Central America,” in Double-Edged Diplomacy: International Bargaining and Domestic Politics, ed. Peter Evans et al. (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993); Robert A. Pastor, “The Latin American Option,” Foreign Policy 88 (1992): 107–25. 5 Dani Rodrik, Has Globalization Gone Too Far? (Washington: Institute for International Economics, 1997). 6 Robert A. Pastor, Toward a North American Community: Lessons from the Old World for the New (Washington, dc : Institute for International Economics, 2001). 7 Carlos Salinas de Gortari, Mexico: The Policy and Politics of Modernization (Barcelona: Plaza & Janes Editores, 2002), 48. Salinas recounts that the first proposal for a free trade agreement between the United States and Mexico came from President Bush on 22 November 1988 and was rejected. Mexico’s own proposal came on 1 February 1990 in a meeting between Commerce Secretary Jaime Serra Pucha and Carla Hills, US Trade Representative. 8 See Laura Macdonald, “Stronger Together? Canada-Mexico Relations and the nafta Re-negotiations,” Canadian Foreign Policy Journal 26, no. 2 (2020): 152–66. 9 Lou Cannon, President Reagan: The Role of a Lifetime (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1991), 461. 10 Greg Anderson, “David and Goliath in Canada–US Relations: Who’s Really Who?,” Canadian Foreign Policy Journal 25, no. 2 (2019): 115–36. 11 US Department of State, US–Canada Smart Border Declaration, 6 December 2002, https://2001-2009.state.gov/p/wha/rls/fs/18128.htm.

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12 US–Mexico Border Partnership Action Plan, 21 March 2002, https://20012009.state.gov/p/wha/rls/fs/8909.htm. 13 Robert A. Pastor, “The future of North America: Replacing a Bad Neighbor policy,” Foreign Affairs 87, no. 4 (July–August 2008): 84–98; Anderson, “David and Goliath in Canada–US Relations.” 14 Greg Anderson and Christopher Sands, Negotiating North America: The Security and Prosperity Partnership (Washington, dc : Hudson Institute, 2007); Jason Ackleson and Justin Kastner, “The Security and Prosperity Partnership of North America,” American Review of Canadian Studies 36, no. 2 (2006): 207–32; Jason Ackleson, “From ‘Thin’ to ‘Thick’ (and Back Again?): The Politics and Policies of the Contemporary US– Canada Border,” American Review of Canadian Studies 39, no. 4 (2009): 336–51. 15 See Anderson and Sands, Negotiating North America. 16 See Greg Anderson, “Canada and the United States in the Harper Years: Still Special, but Not Especially Important,” in The Harper Era in Canadian Foreign Policy: Parliament, Politics, and Canada’s Global Posture, ed. Adam Chapnick and Christopher Kukucha (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2016), 135–50. 17 “Canada to lift visa requirements for Mexico,” https://pm.gc.ca/eng/ news/2016/06/28/canada-lift-visa-requirements-mexico. 18 Yifan Yang, “Does the Academic Programme Work? The Jean Monnet Programme and European Union Public Diplomacy,” Journal of European Integration 37, no. 6 (2015): 611–28; See also European Commission, Erasmus+, https://ec.europa.eu/programmes/erasmus-plus/resources/ documents/erasmus-annual-report-overview-factsheets_en. 19 See European Commission, eacea , Jean Monnet, Directory, https://eacea. ec.europa.eu/JeanMonnetDirectory/#/search-screen. 20 See American University, Washington, dc , Center for Latin American and Latino Studies, https://www.american.edu/centers/latin-americanlatino-studies/north-america-research-initiative.cfm; Arizona State University, School of Transborder Studies, https://sts.asu.edu. 21 See Canada Research Chair program, http://www.chairs-chaires.gc.ca/ home-accueil-eng.aspx. 22 See John F. Kennedy Institute for North American Studies, Free University of Berlin, https://www.jfki.fu-berlin.de/en/index.html. 23 Donald F. Kettl, System under Stress: Homeland Security and American Politics (Washington, dc : cq Press, 2013). 24 Maxwell A. Cameron and Brian W. Tomlin, The Making of nafta : How the Deal Was Done (Cornell: Cornell University Press, 2002).

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25 By convention, the name of the treaty begins with the state in question. Thus, Mexico’s is Tratado México Estados Unidos Canadá (tmeuc ), US is usmca , and Canada goes by cusma . 26 Patrick Macrory, nafta Chapter 19: A Successful Experiment in International Trade Dispute Resolution (Vancouver, Bc : C.D. Howe Institute, 2002). 27 Greg Anderson, “How Did Investor-State Dispute Settlement Get a Bad Rap? Blame It on nafta , of Course,” The World Economy 40, no. 12 (2017): 2937–65. 28 Clarkson, Does North America Exist?, 454. 29 Pastor, The North American Idea, 3–30.

4 Was Not 9/11 Supposed to Change Everything? The Impact of the “September 11th Moment” on the Canada–US Relationship Matthew Trudgen

The terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001 were a traumatic event not only for the United States but also for Canada and other allied countries. For Canada, this trauma was rooted in more than the deaths of twenty-four Canadians; the American response seemed to herald a new American focus on North American security. And when the Bush administration tightened the canus border and created usnorthcom and the dhs , that focus became a reality.1 Canadians both inside and outside of government found this disturbing; they feared that such a security posture would involve a loss of Canadian sovereignty and even the possibility that Canada would be swallowed by an American-led Fortress North America.2 In particular, many Canadians, especially in the business community, took seriously the comments of the US Ambassador to Canada Paul Cellucci when he declared that “security trumps trade.”3 But this focus on North American security never quite materialized. Instead, the US confronted the threat of Islamic terrorism by fighting it overseas, intervening militarily in Afghanistan and later in Iraq. The major issue in the relationship shifted to Canadian participation in America’s foreign wars; Canada supported the Afghan mission but publicly opposed the invasion of Iraq. In the end, the Bush administration decided to play the “away game” with its gwot . More than twenty years after 9/11, it is worth asking: why did the United States and its allies focus on the away game rather than on homeland security, as American rhetoric had seemed to promise?

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This chapter argues that 9/11 did not change the canus relationship in a more fundamental way because it did not alter the strategic defaults that governed the relationship and how North American security was structured. Ultimately, while the border was thickened, the “9/11 moment” was ultimately shorter and less decisive than was expected at the time, with both positive and negative impacts on the canus relationship and the future of North America.

s t r a t e gIc d e f a u l t sett Ings Before examining how the 9/11 terrorist attacks impacted the canus relationship and North American security, it is worth briefly discussing how scholars have thought about the distinctive patterns of strategic thought that exist in different countries. One such patterm is the concept of strategic culture, of which several definitions exist. Military sociologist Kerry Longhurst writes that a strategic culture is a “distinctive body of beliefs, attitudes and practices regarding the use of force, which are held by a collective.”4 Another prominent definition is that of political scientist Alastair Ian Johnston, who argues that strategic culture is “the set of pervasive and long lasting strategic preferences [established] by formulating concepts of the role and efficacy of military force in interstate political affairs, and by clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that the strategic preferences seem uniquely realistic and efficacious.”5 Strategic culture can be seen as “the filter through which reality is perceived, limiting in the eyes of the decision makers, the available options.”6 A second concept is nationally distinctive ways of war. This concept was developed separately by military historians, although scholars such as Lawrence Sondhaus have linked it to strategic culture.7 For example, the idea of an American way of war was developed in the 1970s by Russell Weigley, who defined it as a quest for decisive battles and the employment of maximum effort and aggressiveness at all levels.8 Unfortunately, both of these concepts have their limitations. For example, the use of strategic culture is hampered by difficulty in defining the term culture. Moreover, the concept has undergone a convoluted development since being coined by Jack Snyder in the 1970s.9 Moreover, nationally distinctive ways of war are centred on the conduct of military operations and strategy, and there are many important elements of national security that do not fall into

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these categories. There is a need for a concept that is more straightforward than strategic culture and that is broader than historical ways of war, so this chapter proposes “strategic default settings.” This refers to a nation’s standard, preset, seemingly natural patterns of national security thinking and behaviour. These reflect and are strengthened by internal and external expectations about what a country will do when confronted with a national security problem. They can be based on long-standing principles and lessons of history, although the advocates of these default settings can be highly selective about which principles and lessons they cite. The final element is that changing or even challenging these defaults requires either significant external developments or great efforts by a nation’s civilian and military leadership.

t h e hIs t o r Ic a l d e f e nce relat I ons hI p: 1 9 4 0 – 2 0 01 What are these strategic defaults for the United States and Canada? For the United States, the roots of its response to 9/11 took hold in the 1940s. In that decade, the United States became a global superpower, first helping to crush the Axis Powers. Then, during the Cold War, the United States confronted the Soviet Union. It supported the creation of overseas alliance, such as nato , and it deployed military forces around the world to protect its allies. The cornerstone of this posture was its offensive forces, namely its nuclear deterrent. But what about North American defence, and with it, Canada? When the Soviet Union developed its own nuclear-armed long-range bombers in the early to mid-1950s, Canadian airspace suddenly became more important for US security. The United States worked with Canada to coordinate air defence forces and construct radar systems on Canadian and US soil. This defence cooperation was built not only on formal ties but also on informal relations, particularly between the two air forces and other senior officials. At its core, US military cooperation with Canada was functional; that is, it was for specific, technical purposes and not to reassure the Canadians of US support, of the sort that was needed by America’s European allies. The Americans cared about North American defence because Soviet bombers could fly over the Arctic to strike at the continental United States. The importance of this defence cooperation peaked in the mid1950s with the construction of the Distant Early Warning Line in the

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Arctic and the creation of the North American Air Defense Command (norad ); however, the development of intercontinental ballistic missiles (IcBm s) and thermonuclear weapons soon rendered the North American air defence system obsolete. In the mid-1960s, the Johnson administration recognized that all the Americans really needed was access to Canadian airspace and some token defence cooperation.10 Certainly, the economic relationship remained important, and political ties were often close. And institutions such as norad were maintained; indeed, the 1980s saw the construction of the North Warning System (nws ) in the Canadian Arctic as a response to concerns about Soviet cruise missiles. Even so, the canus defence relationship became increasingly – in the words of Joseph Jockel and Joel Sokolsky – “special, but not especially important.”11 This historical experience influenced Canada’s thinking about its relationship with the United Sates. Canadian thinking also evolved during and after the Second World War. While the defence of Canadian territory was the highest priority, Canada, like the United States, emphasized an offensive approach in its military posture. Beginning in the early 1950s, Canada stationed forces overseas to support nato ; it also sent a brigade group and air and naval assets to fight in the Korean War (1950–53). Canada’s commitments overseas were largely uncontroversial in this period. Continental air defence was very different, for it involved the presence of US personnel and installations on Canadian soil. Canada’s air defence policies were heavily influenced by political considerations, Canadian nationalism, and the demands of other government departments, including those charged with managing Canada’s electronics industry. For Canadian governments, the focus of the relationship was on balancing American air defence concerns with internal considerations. Unfortunately, as it managed the relationship, the Canadian government did not build a public consensus in favour of defence and security cooperation with the United States. Instead, Cabinet relied on secrecy, seeking to minimize any publicity that might create any political difficulties. In addition, Canadian ministers and officials proved to be vulnerable to uncertainties about American thinking and tended to chronically overestimate US interest in continental air defence.12 With the decline of the North American air defence system after 1957 and especially after 1963,13 Canada became increasingly focused on doing just enough to satisfy the Americans.14 US interest in the defence of North

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America declined sharply; meanwhile, Canada’s ability to satisfy the Americans’ increasingly limited requests was hampered by growing Canadian nationalist sentiment, particularly on the political left, and by the government’s increasing inability to keep defence measures secret. As these debates played out, norad and Canada’s participation in US missile defence programs became points of contention, especially in 1968 and in the mid-1980s.15 These controversies were mostly due to fears about Canadian sovereignty. Ironically, the United States had only limited interest in involving Canada in its missile defence programs because, unlike with continental air defence, Canadian territory was no longer essential to make those defence systems operational. Some Canadians inside and outside of government, particularly in the military, remained concerned about the relationship, but the Americans were largely complacent. For example, in the 1990s, the Clinton administration was concerned mainly about Canada’s contributions to UN peacekeeping missions in Haiti.16

t h e r e l a tIo n s hI p In 2001 By 2001, the defence relationship between the United States and Canada was governed by these established strategic defaults. On the American side, there was limited interest in the relationship and the military and security cooperation that did occur was functional in nature. Canada’s focus was on balancing American requests with political considerations, nationalist sentiments, and the desire for economic benefits. Canadians tended to overestimate US interest in military cooperation and demonstrated a limited capacity for dealing with any uncertainties in the defence relationship. There was also a reliance on informal connections to make the relationship work. 17 On 10 September 2001, the Bush administration and the government of Prime Minister Jean Chrétien reflected these default settings. The US administration’s senior leadership, including President George W. Bush, was committed to America’s global role. Vice President Dick Cheney, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, and other senior officials were associated with the Project for a New American Century, whose statement of principles argued: “We seem to have forgotten the essential elements of the Reagan Administration’s success: a military that is strong and ready to meet both present and future challenges; a foreign policy that boldly and

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purposefully promotes American principles abroad; and national leadership that accepts the US’ global responsibilities.”18 Setting aside the Bush administration’s interest in ballistic missile defence, this was not an administration invested in the canus relationship. The only advice that Paul Cellucci got from Washington when he was appointed US Ambassador to Canada was an off-handed comment from the Secretary of State, Colin Powell, that he should try to get Canada to increase spending on defence.19 This situation was even more the case in Canada with the Chrétien government. Jean Chrétien was, at heart, a “default settings’” prime minister. His primary focus was on retaining political power, and he was perfectly willing to play the anti-American card for his benefit, even though he had good personal relations with President Bill Clinton. It was a sign of the limited strategic importance of Canada that the Clinton administration largely tolerated these stances. Chrétien generally delegated his government’s foreign policy to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Lloyd Axworthy, who also rarely missed an opportunity to take anti-American position.

t h e “ 9 / 1 1 m o m e n t ” and why I t w a s j u s t a moment Following the 9/11 attacks, the United States quickly took steps to protect its territory. The Canada–US border was closed, and the United States tightened security at its ports and airports and deployed fighter jets over its cities (called Operation noBle eagle or one – see Charron, Fergusson, and St John’s chapter for details). In October 2001, Congress quickly passed the “Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism (usa patrIot ) Act,” which toughened US anti-terrorism laws.20 The most serious issue for Canadians, both inside and outside of government, was how the Bush administration would handle the border. Fortunately, the strategic defaults were already coming to the forefront in Washington. The Bush administration quickly determined that it would take the offensive with a gwot , its first target being Afghanistan. The then Head of the National Security Agency (and future Director of the Central Intelligence Agency) General (Ret.) Michael Hayden later averred that the United States was not interested in defending its goalmouth, namely the continental United States, but sought to take the offensive.21

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Other developments quickly surfaced in the Bush administration, including the separation in US thinking between national and homeland security. Responsibility for homeland security was taken from the National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice and given to the new Homeland Security Advisor, the former Governor of Pennsylvania, Tom Ridge.22 The administration established a Homeland Security Council as a counterpart of the National Security Council as well as an Office for Homeland Security in the White House. These initiatives allowed US national security institutions to focus on taking the offensive against Islamic terrorism while leaving homeland security issues to these newly created bodies.23 In 2002 and 2003, the Bush administration bolstered this homeland security establishment by creating two additional institutions. The first was usnorthcom , created on 1 October 2002 to provide for the “command and control of Department of Defense (d od ) homeland defense efforts and to coordinate defense support of civil authorities.” Its area of responsibility included “air, land and sea approaches and encompasses the continental United States, Alaska, Canada, Mexico and the surrounding water out to approximately 500 nautical miles.”24 The second was the dhs , which incorporated twenty-two previously independent agencies, including the Immigration and Naturalization Service and the Transportation Security Administration.25 Ridge was appointed the first Secretary of Homeland Security.26 While these initiatives looked impressive on paper, the reality was more limited. Rice noted that usnorthcom had been created largely to fill a gap in America’s military posture. She noted that the United States had military commands all over the world, but none for its own territory.27 usnorthcom has grown to serve as a useful twin command to norad , which despite its failures on 9/11 was retained and later given an expanded maritime warning mission.28 Moreover, it was clear, even in 2002, that political factors shaped the dhs . Senator Joseph Lieberman (D-Connecticut) was the first prominent figure to propose its creation, and the Bush administration took up this idea to avoid being outflanked by the Democrats.29 Moreover, the process in the administration that determined which agencies were to be included in the new department was rushed and haphazard. The Federal Emergency Management Agency and the Secret Service became part of the dhs but not the Federal Bureau of Investigation (fBI ). After its creation, Bush never showed much

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interest in the dhs .30 Ultimately, much of the heavy lifting to secure the American homeland was left to law enforcement organizations such as the fBI . This limited approach to homeland security was reflected in the administration’s attitude toward the canus border. Soon after Ridge’s appointment as dhs Secretary, Bush told him that “we had to do something different at the border because we had almost brought commerce to a screeching halt.”31 The Canadian Ambassador in Washington, Michael Kergin, found Bush’s Chief of Staff Andy Card “sympathetic” to Canadian concerns.32 This reflected the reality that the administration’s position was not simply security trumps trade; it was more nuanced than that, and the overall goal was a more secure border that still facilitated commerce. Meanwhile, Canada quickly took steps to demonstrate that it was able to secure its own territory. This included the passage of its own anti-terrorist legislation, as well as an agreement to share passenger flight information with the United States.33 But just as in Washington, default settings came into play, albeit in a more problematic sense. John Manley, who was appointed Minister of Foreign Affairs in 2000, recalled that Chrétien was focused on striking the “right balance between being seen to be doing nothing and being seen to increase the level of anxiety in the population”; Chrétien did not want to “overreact.”34 The prime minister even chose this moment to opine that the United States bore some responsibility for the attacks.35 When Cellucci began to discuss the idea of a security perimeter with the Canadian government, the Prime Minister’s Office was concerned that this initiative not be called a “perimeter” because of political considerations. Eventually both countries agreed on the term “zone of confidence.”36 Meanwhile, Canadian ministers and officials relied on the shock generated by 9/11 to ease the passage of security initiatives instead of trying to build a public consensus for greater cooperation with the Americans. This failure to create a political consensus reflected past practice and Chrétien’s caution. Fortunately, Manley and Ridge stepped in at this point to address many of the issues facing both countries. Manley was a pro-business, pro-American Liberal who recognized the need for a close relationship. Ridge was even more important because, as a former governor of Pennsylvania, he understood and cared about the economic aspects of the canus relationship far more than someone would have who had only a security or intelligence background. They

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quickly forged a close personal relationship and began to address the issues surrounding the border. Their focus was on functional cooperation, not grand political gestures. In December 2001, the United States and Canada signed the Smart Border Accord, which included thirty measures to improve border security while facilitating trade. Both countries also agreed to the Free and Secure Trade (fast ) program, which minimized security checks on cross-border trucking. This agreement, which was signed over the public objections of the US Commissioner of Customs and Border Protection, addressed many concerns about the canus border and helped calm Americans’ nerves in the months after 9/11.37 In the midst of all this, the 9/11 “moment” evolved into the gwot as the Bush administration intervened in Afghanistan. The administration’s newly crafted National Security Strategy of the United States of America called for an aggressive military posture and declared a willingness to carry out pre-emptive strikes.38 Canada responded quickly, dispatching troops to help the Americans in Afghanistan and to support the unsc -approved International Security Force for Afghanistan.39 (See Justin Massie’s chapter for details.) The gwot then evolved again into military operations against Iraq when the Bush administration decided to focus on Saddam Hussein and his alleged weapons of mass destruction. The Bush administration’s shift to Iraq proved to be the key to ensuring that 9/11 was a moment and not an era. It had both positive and negative outcomes for the US relationship with Canada. On the positive side, it meant that the United States did not embrace a more defence-centred strategy. Such an approach would have placed much greater responsibilities on Canada to help secure the continent than the functional measures that both countries undertook in the autumn of 2001. Once the United States decided to engage overseas, Canada mattered much less for US security. Indeed, the main issue became whether Canada would support the invasion and send a token force to help invade Iraq. These issues, while salient, were less important for the Americans. Ultimately, Canada opposed the invasion of Iraq and decided not to join the “coalition of the willing.” While the Canadian “no” has been hailed by many members of the Canadian foreign policy establishment as one of the best decisions of the Chrétien years, in truth the prime minister and his ministers handled the situation poorly.40 First, the decision was strongly motivated by political considerations,

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particularly a “wait and see” approach regarding which way the political winds were blowing, with no attempt to articulate a distinct Canadian path. This of course reflected a reassertion of the traditional defaults governing the relationship. Moreover, the government subcontracted much of its decision-making to the unsc . Finally, it sent mixed signals and communicated the decision in a way that seemed designed to irritate the Americans. In the end, the realities of Canada’s potential involvement in the conflict meant that the Americans were only annoyed. While the United States cut off Canada from intelligence-sharing for a time, the relationship was not seriously damaged.41 The Chrétien government’s response to the US invasion of Iraq does serve to highlight the problems that would have arisen had the Americans chosen a more defensive strategy. First, the government’s failure to create a public consensus in favour of security cooperation would have worsened the problem of balancing American demands with political considerations and nationalist sentiments. These issues would have been made more problematic by the uncertainty over the nature of the US requests and Canadians’ tendency to overestimate what the Americans might want. For example, concerns over Canada’s immigration and refugee policies would have emerged. Chrétien’s “default settings” attitude toward the relationship, and his close attention to public opinion, would not have been suited to this moment. And when one throws in figures such as Bush and Cellucci, the Chrétien government would have been caught between US security requests and a Canadian public that was unprepared for what was coming and enflamed by sovereignty concerns. The result was at best a difficult situation and probably the most serious crisis in the defence relationship since the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis. It was good news for the relationship that the United States chose to embark on a gwot . There was, however, a negative side to this shift: the short 9/11 moment left its own legacies, namely the thickened border and the dhs. As noted earlier, Bush, Rice, and Ridge did not want a border that impeded trade. But the invasion of Iraq distracted the Bush administration and then sapped its political capital. This was demonstrated during the Bush administration’s failed attempt to create a limited North American security perimeter, the spp . One weakness with the spp was that it was a trilateral initiative that included Mexico, which created problems because the US–Mexican border

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has issues that are distinct from those that plague the Canada–US border (see the chapter by Macdonald and Ayres).42 But the main problem was a lack of political will in Washington to make the initiative work, and it faded away with the end of the Bush administration. This lack of ongoing high-level attention to the border left a policy vacuum, and the result was that the dhs kept the border thick. Ridge’s successor as Secretary of Homeland Security, Michael Chernoff, was less interested in the commercial aspects of the border given that his background was as a New York–based prosecutor. Chernoff later recalled: “We tried to balance security and trade. Of course, the Canadians were always complaining that we were thickening the border.”43 Because of its security-centric thinking, the dhs took a risk-averse approach to border security, and this led to “friction” at the border (see the chapter by Budning and Hampson). For example, plans for trucking pre-clearances were scrapped in 2007 when Chernoff rejected the use of background and criminal checks for drivers crossing the border. He wanted to use fingerprinting, which the Canadians rejected because in Canada, fingerprints are taken only after an arrest, whereas in the United States, they are used to conduct security checks.44 The most serious issue that emerged involved dhs ’s tendency to view the canus border and the US–Mexican border in similar terms; that had not been the intention of the Bush administration when it created the dhs (as noted by Budning and Hampson). Canadian officials also showed a lack of imagination. For example, they were reluctant to raise the limits on goods that Canadians could bring into the country from the United States so that more resources could be allocated to security concerns.45 Thus, while the limited duration of the 9/11 “moment” had many positives, it also brought some lasting challenges.

c o n c l u sI on In the days after 9/11, it seemed that the terrorist attacks would be the defining event of our era. And certainly, in the twenty-plus years since, that day has remained a constant in the public imagination and public remembrance. This was reflected in the importance the Americans attached to the ultimately successful hunt for Osama bin Laden. The attacks had extraordinary consequences for the people of Afghanistan, Iraq, and the wider Middle East. But for Canada and North America, the impact was less than one would think.

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The strategic defaults that governed the canus relationship were not fundamentally changed by these attacks. This was partly because those defaults were entrenched in Washington and Ottawa but also because there were not enough senior figures in either capital, especially Washington, who wanted to change them. The result was a shortened 9/11 moment that left negative legacies, namely a thickened border and a dysfunctional dhs . It also exposed the limits of North America in the minds of US policy-makers. However, it is important to look at what could have happened. While the Canadian decision not to support the invasion of Iraq created controversy and tensions, a crisis would have been caused by a US attempt to create a serious continental security perimeter or even a Fortress North America. It is easy to look back and forget that so much was at stake besides a thickened border. What can be learned from this experience? One key lesson has to do with the role that both nations’ political and military leaders played in this process. As this chapter suggests, those leaders helped create these strategic defaults, sustained them, and ultimately decided to keep them in place. For example, in the days after 9/11, Bush and Rice looked to deal with US security concerns overseas. Meanwhile, Ridge and Manley pushed through functional canus security measures that reflected these defaults. In particular, Ridge’s interest in the economic aspects of the relationship helped ensure that the border did not become too thick. But if elites can help forge and sustain these defaults, they can alter them as well. Recent experience with the Trump administration has shown that a president, through his own actions or by enabling others, can shake a nation’s foreign policy to its core.46 It is important for policy-makers in both countries, but especially Canada, to understand how these defaults impact the canus relationship, even if only fleetingly. not e s 1 Patrick Lennox, At Home and Abroad: The Canada-US Relationship and Canada’s Place in the World (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2010), 118–19. 2 Three examples of this line of thought are Julian Beltrame, “Fortress North America: How Our World Will Change,” Maclean’s, October 2001, https://archive.macleans.ca/article/2001/10/15/fortress-northamerica; David Rudd and Nicholas Furneaux, eds, Fortress North

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America?: What Continental Security Means for Canada (Toronto: Canadian Institute of Strategic Studies, 2002); and Maude Barlow, Too Close for Comfort: Canada’s Future within Fortress North America (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 2005). Paul Cellucci, Unquiet Diplomacy (Toronto: Key Porter, 2006), 15. Kerry Longhurst, “The Concept of Strategic Culture,” in Military Sociology” The Richness of a Discipline, ed. Gerhard Kümmel, Andreas Prüfert, and Astrid Albrecht-Heide (Baden Baden: Nomos, 2000), 301–10. Alastair Ian Johnston, “Thinking about Strategic Culture,” International Security 19, no. 4 (1995): 47. Michel Fortmann and Martin Larose, “An Emerging Strategic Counterculture? Pierre Elliott Trudeau, Canadian Intellectuals, and the Revision of Liberal Defence Policy Concerning nato (1968–1969),” International Journal 59, no. 3, (Summer 2004): 538. Lawrence Sondhaus, Strategic Culture and Ways of War (New York: Routledge, 2006), vi. Antulio J. Echevarria II links the two concepts in a more critical way; see his Reconsidering the American Way of War: US Military Practice from the Revolution to Afghanistan (Washington, dc : Georgetown University Press, 2014). For more information see Russell Weigley, The American Way of War: A History of United States Military Strategy and Policy (New York: Macmillan, 1973). A.J. Echevarria II, “American Strategic Culture Problems and Prospects,” in The Changing Character of War, ed. Hew Strachan and Sibylle Scheipers (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 431–2. Greg Donaghy, Tolerant Allies: Canada and the United States, 1963–1968 (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2002), 109–12. Joseph Jockel and Joel Sokolsky, “Special but Not Especially Important: Canada–US Defense Relations through the Doran Lenses,” in Forgotten Partnership Redux: Canada–US relations in the 21st Century, ed. Gary Anderson and Christopher Sands (Amherst: Cambria Press, 2010), 149–68. For more information see Matthew Trudgen, “The Search for Continental Security: The Development of the North American Air Defence System, 1945 to 1958” (PhD diss., Queen’s University, 2011). In 1963 the Pearson government decided to equip the Canadian military with nuclear weapons. This decision fulfilled the commitments made by the Diefenbaker government in the late 1950s and represented the last major initiative to improve the North American air defence system until the North Warning System in the 1980s.

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14 Joel J. Sokolsky, “Realism Canadian Style: National Security Policy and the Chrétien Legacy,” Policy Matters 5, no. 2 (June 2004): 10. 15 1968 was the date for the first norad renewal; the 1980s saw the emergence of Reagan’s Strategic Defence Initiative. 16 The UN peacekeeping missions in Haiti were important because of the Clinton administration’s desire to prevent an exodus of refugees to Florida, which was a political problem for them. Kim Richard Nossal, The Politics of Canadian Foreign Policy (Toronto: Prentice Hall Canada, 1997), 77. 17 These observations are based on a reading of the scholarly literature. Joseph Jockel has discussed the tendency of Canadian officials to overestimate American interest in Canada and continental defence. Joseph Jockel, No Boundaries Upstairs: The United States and the Origins of North American Air Defence, 1945–1958 (Vancouver: uBc Press, 1987); Jockel, Canada in norad , 1957–2007: A History (Kingston: Queen’s Centre for International Relations and Queen’s Defence Management Program, 2007). Scholars such as Brian Bow and Sean Maloney have noted the importance of informal connections in the Canada-US relationship. See Brian Bow, The Politics of Linkage Power, Interdependence, and Ideas in Canada–US Relations (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2009); Sean M. Maloney, Learning to Love the Bomb: Canada’s Nuclear Weapons during the Cold War (Washington, dc : Potomac Books, 2007). My doctoral research indicated that Canadian officials reacted poorly to any uncertainty in the Canada-US defence relationship. Trudgen, “The Search for Continental Security.” 18 “Statement of Principles,” project for New American Century, https:// web.archive.org/web/20130621044610/http://www.newamericancentury. org/statementofprinciples.htm. 19 Cellucci, Unquiet Diplomacy, 75–6. Cellucci recalled that he was largely self-selected, as he had lobbied Bush for the position. 20 The Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism Act was signed by President G.W. Bush on 28 October. Lennox, At Home and Abroad, 117. 21 Michael Hayden, “Canada–US Security Interests,” 2011 Ottawa Conference on Defence and Security, 24 February 2011, http://www.cpac. ca/en/programs/public-record/episodes/16662012. 22 “Creation of the Department of Homeland Security,” Department of Homeland Security, https://www.dhs.gov/creation-department-homelandsecurity.

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23 Condoleezza Rice, No Higher Honor: A Memoir of My Years in Washington (New York: Crown, 2011), 111–12. 24 “About Northcom,” US Northern Command, http://www.northcom.mil/ about_us/ aboutus.htm. 25 “Who Joined dhs ,” Department of Homeland Security, https://www.dhs. gov/who-joined-dhs. 26 Lennox, At Home and Abroad, 118. For more information on the creation of dhs , see John Gilmour, “The Post 9/11 Reorganization of Canada’s National Security Infrastructure” in this volume. 27 Rice, No Higher Honor, 111. 28 Phillippe Lagassé, “A Common Bilateral Vision: North American Defence Cooperation, 2001–2012,” in Game Changer: The Impact of 9/11 on North American Security, ed. Patrick James and Jonathan Paquin (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2014), 203 . 29 Jeffrey Rosen, “Man-Made Disaster,” The New Republic, 23 December 2008, https://newrepublic.com/article/64075/man-made-disaster. These political factors were only increased by the fact that Lieberman was Al Gore’s nominee for vice-president in 2000. Rosen also noted that the date of the dhs announcement may have been motivated by the need to deflect from revelations about intelligence failures involving the fBI leadership in the lead up to the attacks. 30 Dara Lind, “The Department of Homeland Security Is a Total Disaster. It’s Time to Abolish It,” Vox, 17 February 2015, https://www.vox. com/2015/2/17/8047461/dhs-problems. 31 Luiza Ch. Savage, “Security Trumps Trade at the US Border,” Maclean’s, 7 September 2011, https://www.macleans.ca/news/world/security-trumpstrade-at-the-border. 32 Alexander Panetta, “How the shutdown after 9/11 paved the way for the new Canada-US border response to covId -19,” cbc News, 20 March 2020, https://www.cbc.ca/news/world/coronavirus-covid-19-bordercanada-united-states-trade-1.5503192. 33 In 2003, Canada also created a new federal department, Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness Canada, which had a similar role in Canada as the dhs . Lennox, At Home and Abroad, 122–3. 34 Savage, “Security Trumps Trade.” 35 Chrétien asserted: “When you are powerful like you are, you guys, it’s the time to be nice ... And it is one of the problems – you cannot exercise your powers to the point of humiliation of the others. And that is what the Western world – not only the Americans but the Western world – has to

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realize.” Aaron Wherry, “Poverty, Terrorism and 9/11,” Maclean’s, 9 September 2011, https://www.macleans.ca/politics/ottawa/povertyterrorism-and-911/. Savage, “Security Trumps Trade.” Stephen Azzi and Norman Hillmer, “Intolerant Allies: Canada and the George W. Bush Administration, 2001–2005,” Diplomacy and Statecraft 27, no. 4 (2016): 30–1. “The National Security Strategy of the United States of America,” November 2002, https://history.defense.gov/Portals/70/Documents/nss/ nss2002.pdf?ver=oyVN99aEnrAWijAc_O5eiQ%3d%3d. s/res/1386 (2001). The mission, initially led by the UK, concentrated on Kabul to secure the airport. Isaf later became a nato -led mission and spread out across the country. The unsc also established a political mission in March 2002, at the request of the Afghan government, through Security Council Resolution 1401, named the UN Mission in Afghanistan or unama . Eugene Lang, “Chrétien was both courageous and wise on Iraq,” Times Colonist, 20 March 2013, https://www.timescolonist.com/ opinion/op-ed/comment-chr%C3%A9tien-was-both-courageous-andwise-on-iraq-1.94444. Azzi and Hillmer, “Intolerant Allies,” 34–6. It should be noted that a provincial election in Quebec and the prospect of a separatist victory motivated Chrétien’s thinking, although how much of that was based on his desire for a political legacy versus the actual danger of a third referendum is an open question. These issues include drug trafficking and illegal immigration. Jonathan Paquin and Louis Belanger, “Canada-US Security Cooperation under the Security and Prosperity Partnership: An Autopsy Report,” in Game Changer: The Impact of 9/11 on North American Security, ed. Patrick James and Jonathan Paquin (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2014), 93. Michael Chernoff, transcript of an oral history, 2012, President George W. Bush Oral History Project, Miller Centre, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, 2012; Bryan Craig, Briefing Materials Michael Chertoff (Charlottesville: Miller Centre, 2012), 12. Despite his years as Homeland Security Secretary, Chernoff was unable to remember that the trilateral summit meetings among US, Canadian, and Mexican leaders were part of the spp . But he remembered he got a tote bag! joc Staff, “US-Canada truck preclearance moves closer to reality,” Joc. com, 19 August 2019, https://www.joc.com/trucking-logistics/us-canada-

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truck-preclearance-moves-closer-reality_20190819.html. (joc is the Journal of Commerce online). 45 Savage, “Security Trumps Trade.” 46 The Trump administration’s dismissive attitude towards nato is just one example of many.

5 A World Long Gone? 9/11 and Dominant Ideas in Canadian Foreign Policy Twenty Years On Kim Richard Nossal and Stéphane Roussel

In June 2017, Chrystia Freeland, Canada’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, delivered a major speech on foreign policy in the House of Commons.1 That speech was clearly a response to the “America First” policies of Donald Trump, who had been inaugurated as President of the United States just months earlier, and who was highly critical of multilateralism, America’s alliances, international institutions, and free trade agreements.2 By contrast, the foreign policy priorities outlined by Freeland reflected a radically different world view – one that has dominated the intellectual universe of Canadian foreign policy since the Second World War: liberal internationalism. In addition to faith in multilateralism and international law, internationalism emphasizes Canada’s responsibility to contribute to the stability of the international order, the primacy of liberal values, including human rights and democracy, and Canada’s unambiguous membership in the “Western camp.” But this classic description of Canada’s place in the world, and the role it should play in global politics, was not simply a reflection of the views of the Liberal government of Justin Trudeau of which Freeland was a member, or of intellectuals like Roland Paris and Jocelyn Coulon, who helped shape Trudeau’s foreign policy views even before the 2015 election that would bring the Liberals to power. Rather, Freeland was articulating a legacy dating back seventy years, one that had been embraced by Liberal and Conservative governments alike. A common interpretation of Freeland’s defence of liberal internationalism in 2017 was that she was embracing a formula that had

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consistently proved its worth for Canada in international affairs.3 But it is also possible to see her speech in a much less rosy light. In this more critical view, Freeland was stubbornly clinging to the past, embracing a “default” position based on myths of a “golden age” of Canadian diplomacy. The ideas she articulated about Canada’s role in the world might be dominant in Canadian society, but they no longer reflected the profound changes that had occurred in global politics. As Thomas Walkom put it, the speech was a “nostalgic elegy” for a world whose “time has passed.”4 The disjuncture between the vision of the world in Freeland’s speech and the world that had given rise to the need for such a speech reveals a key consequence for Canada of the attacks of 11 September 2001. In retrospect, 9/11 had significant, long-term effects on the international order. The key factor that gave rise to the perceived need for Freeland’s speech in 2017 – the election of Donald Trump as President of the US – can be traced to those attacks. We argue in this chapter, however, that while 9/11 may have altered the path of global politics, it had paradoxically little impact on how Canadians view the world. This chapter identifies and explains the significant disjuncture between the dominant idea that animates Canadians about their country’s role in the world on the one hand, and the global order in which the Canadian government must operate on the other. We will look at internationalism as a dominant idea in Canada and then examine how the international order shifted in the decades after 9/11, resulting in a significant disjuncture between the image Canadians have of the global order and their country’s place in it, and the actual nature of that order. We argue that that gap between image and reality can be explained by two factors, both of which are driven by inertia. First, no alternative dominant idea has seized the imagination of Canadians in the twenty years since 9/11. Second, proponents of liberal internationalism have found it easier, and safer, to perpetuate this image rather than take a hard look at the realities of global politics and craft new policies that fit with those new realities. In this sense, ideas about a country’s place in the world tend to be deeply resistant to the kind of “paradigm shift” (in the Kuhnian sense5) that would have led to the embrace of alternative ideas about Canada and global politics.

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t h e Im a ge: Int e r n a tIo n a lIs m a s a dom I nant I dea We begin with a brief recap of the image that remains the dominant idea about international politics for Canadians. It has been said that Canadians have multilateralism in their dna .6 That trope, which is hardly unique – many countries and their leaders know that in today’s global politics, unilateralism is a losing proposition for small states – underscores the degree to which Canadians have an enduring view of their country’s role and standing in the world. In this view, Canada is a committed liberal internationalist, willing and able to influence global politics by playing a constructive role in managing global conflict, supporting multilateralism and the international institutions on which multilateralism depends, and contributing resources to the greater global good. In Canadian foreign policy, this is the standard definition of liberal internationalism.7 Moreover, it is clear that this Canadian attachment to internationalism has been exceedingly durable, extending from the beginning of the Cold War in the late 1940s, at which time it was very firmly entrenched in Canada, through the post–Cold War decade and well into the post-9/11 era. Indeed, Roland Paris8 demonstrated empirically that Canadians were still firm liberal internationalists when Justin Trudeau and the Liberal Party appealed to those internationalist ideals during the 2015 election campaign. It can be argued that the persistent dominance of this idea among Canadians contributed to the Liberal victory in that election. And it can be argued that the foreign policy of the Trudeau government after 2015 sought to play to that dominant idea. Trudeau was quick to declare that “Canada is back” in international politics; the government sought to encourage the idea that Canada was an active peacekeeper; Trudeau himself pushed a progressive trade agenda; and his government embraced a vaunted feminist foreign policy. To be sure, Trudeau’s foreign policy was marked by overreach and disappointment. The progressive trade agenda fell apart. The feminist foreign policy tended to be overly rhetorical.9 Peacekeeping continued to decline.10 And in 2020, Canada experienced an embarrassing defeat in its effort to secure election to the unsc .11 But there is no evidence that these failures had any impact on Canadians’ attachment to internationalist ideas.

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t h e r e a lIt y : t h e g l oBal I mpact of 9/11 By the time Freeland was giving her paean to the liberal international order in June 2017, the global geostrategic and geo-economic environment had radically shifted and the liberal international order of the post–Cold War era was taking a different shape. While John J. Mearsheimer, in our view, overstates the case that the liberal international order was “bound to fail,”12 we find it hard to disagree with the conclusion of Rita Abrahamsen, Louise Riis Andersen, and Ole Jacob Sending that “in a period of rising populism, nationalism, and authoritarianism, as well as growing protectionism, much of what is worth admiring about world politics since 1945 is at greater risk than it has been for many years.”13 The 9/11 attacks had a significant impact on Canadian foreign policy. The most important of these was on the bilateral relationship with the United States. In the days following the attacks, the United States dramatically tightened border controls; trade, much of which crosses the border by truck, slowed abruptly (see, especially, Part Two of this book). Given that two-thirds of its exports flow to the United States, Canada’s economy was hurt badly. To address the short-term problem of the slowdown and to forestall the possibility that American producers would reorganize their supply chains behind American borders, Canada set out to negotiate a series of joint border control measures. These were put in place between December 2001 and February 2002. There were also broader effects. In October 2001, Canada joined the American-led coalition to fight global terrorism, sending troops to Afghanistan, beginning a military commitment that continued until 2014 (see Justin Massie’s chapter).14 A year and a half later, in March 2003, the government of Jean Chrétien refused to join the coalition against Iraq led by the United States and the UK. The diplomatic crisis surrounding the outbreak of this war led to a weakening of international institutions, particularly the unsc . In addition to the direct consequences of 9/11, successive governments in Ottawa were confronted with other events that transformed the global environment in which Canada operates. The most notable of these were the financial crisis of 2007–09, which weakened all Western economies; the unexpected election of Donald Trump as President of the United States; and the Covid pandemic of 2020. But

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slower changes can also be observed, such as the transformation of the distribution of economic and military power in the international system. Economically, Canada faced increasing competition – and marginalization – from powers normally bundled into acronyms: the BrIcs – “emerging economies” such as Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa; and middle powers beyond the BrIcs , or mIkta – Mexico, Indonesia, South Korea, Turkey, and Australia.15 Militarily, the revisionism and revanchism displayed by Russia, and the aggressiveness of a China, which was beginning to openly defy American hegemony, placed Canada in an uncomfortable situation. In the Trump era, there was considerable doubt about the support that Canada could expect from Washington if it were confronted by Beijing or Moscow. This very brief survey of the changes that have taken place since 9/11 (whether or not they were related to these events) raises an interesting issue. Why is it that, despite the transformation we have seen in the international environment, the Canadian government continues to rely on a foreign policy approach formulated eighty years earlier? How can we explain this lack of imagination – that is, Canada’s inability to renew the foundations of its foreign policy? One answer is to be found in the politics of inertia and the dynamic of path dependence, which predicts how patterns of policy are perpetuated.16 To be sure, this inertia tends to contradict realist assumptions about foreign policy, which assume that states adjust their policies almost automatically when a transformation in the distribution of power occurs. It is true that the events of 9/11 did not bring about a transformation of a magnitude comparable to the one brought about by the collapse of the Soviet Union between 1989 and 1991 or by the rise of China in the first decade of the twenty-first century. Nevertheless, the 9/11 attacks profoundly transformed the international behaviour of the United States. The longer-term changes in US policy included measures to make American territory safe; an increasing willingness to act unilaterally (i.e., without having forged a consensus with allies); and a skepticism about international institutions that had grown into open contempt by the time Trump became president in 2017. Given that the relationship with the United States is by far the most important one for Canada, one might assume that the Canadian government would have rethought its approach to this central element of its foreign policy. Moreover, the damage to international

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institutions and inter-allied relations wrought by the administration of George W. Bush between 2001 and 2009 and then by the Trump administration between 2017 and 2021 profoundly challenged the cornerstones of internationalism. Those challenges certainly justified an in-depth reconsideration of the foundations of Canadian foreign policy. This indeed was done, but as we shall see, it failed to produce any significant change in how Canadians think about their country in global politics. On the contrary, it paved the way for the resurgence of internationalism after 2015. Next we consider why internationalism persisted despite changes in the international system.

t h e f aIl u r e o f a l t ernatIve I deas Responding to the idea that Canada should abandon its internationalist approach and instead adopt a policy of neutrality in international politics – an idea being pushed by the New Democratic Party in the 1980s – John W. Holmes, a former diplomat and professor at the University of Toronto, wrote that there was “no other way”17 for Canada except internationalism. Holmes maintained that the internationalist approach was still, in the mid-1980s, the best basis for Canadian foreign policy, and moreover, that finding a viable alternative would be difficult. A succession of governments, both Liberal and Conservative, had pursued a foreign policy based on international precepts. The unbroken line of prime ministers who had embraced internationalism – Louis St Laurent (1948–57), John G. Diefenbaker (1957–63), and Lester B. Pearson (1963–68) – reflected a form of consensus among the Canadian political class. The first serious attempt to formulate an alternative occurred in 1968, when Pierre Elliott Trudeau began his first term in office. Noting the rise of the Central European states and the new climate of détente between the United States and the Soviet Union, he contended that the notions of “middle power” and internationalism were no longer appropriate. Trudeau’s goal was to replace internationalism, which he dismissed as too idealistic, with a narrower definition of Canada’s national interest. As it happened, Trudeau would be the first victim of the inertia of internationalism: his attempts at reform were based on broad intellectual currents in Canada,18 yet they foundered on opposition within the bureaucracy.19 By the time Trudeau retired from politics in 1984, Canadian foreign policy was still largely based on internationalist precepts.

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Between 1984 and 2006, Trudeau’s successors embraced, explicitly or implicitly, internationalism as a key element of Canadian foreign policy. Where “innovations” were introduced, they invariably proved to be mere variations that did not challenge the foundations of the internationalist approach. For example, the Conservative government of Brian Mulroney (1984–93) used the term “new internationalism” to describe its policy.20 Under Jean Chrétien (1993–2003), the most original dimension of foreign policy – the adoption and implementation of a “human security” agenda – echoed the values of selfless responsibility, humanitarianism, and internationalism. The end of the Cold War, and the profound upheaval in the world order that ensued, did not spur a reformulation of Canada’s foreign policy as might have been expected. While the policies of the Mulroney and Chrétien governments sometimes tended to depart from certain precepts of this approach (such as the withdrawal of the Canadian Forces stationed in Europe in 1991), and while some commitments were more rhetorical than substantive (such as human security policy), neither government sought to break with the Pearsonian tradition, nor did it offer an alternative. This mixed record is probably best described as “internationalism lite.”21 The reaction of the Chrétien government to the 9/11 attacks and their consequences reflected the strength of internationalist ideas in Canada. Ottawa recognized the need to find practical solutions to ensure open borders with the United States (discussed by Laura Macdonald and Jeffrey Ayers and John Gilmour in their chapters) and access to the American market for Canadian products. But Chrétien refrained from inserting piecemeal measures into a broad security plan, whether it was the “security perimeter” proposed by the US Ambassador to Canada, Gordon Giffin, in October 2000, or the “Big Bang” projects proposed by economists and business people that proposed harmonizing Canada’s security measures with those of the United States in exchange for guarantees of access to the American market – proposals that are discussed in other chapters of this book. The Chrétien government cooperated closely with Washington, even while maintaining the “healthy distance” from the United States that internationalism implies. The pervasiveness of internationalist ideas also explains, in part, the Chrétien government’s refusal to join the coalition led by the United States and the UK against Iraq in March 2003. Although this initiative was presented by Washington as an extension of the “war

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on terror” in the aftermath of 9/11, the invasion of Iraq clashed head-on with four principles that are essential to the internationalist approach: respect for international institutions, in particular the unsc; the primacy of international law; the maintenance of transatlantic solidarity; and the limitation of unilateralist temptations on the part of the United States. The debates over the consequences of the 9/11 attacks and Canada’s participation in the war against Iraq in 2002 and 2003 saw the emergence of a new approach in Canadian foreign policy. Continentalist “security perimeter” and “Big Bang” proposals that called for greater integration with the United States were widely supported by the business community and found political resonance on the conservative side of politics in Canada. The influence of these ideas became more pronounced after Stephen Harper became leader of the Canadian Alliance in March 2002 and merged it with the Progressive Conservative Party under the banner of the Conservative Party of Canada. These “neoconservatives” refined the continentalist logic and complemented it with a vision of Canada’s place in the world as well as principles that gave it greater coherence. In many ways, it was the international extension of a national political agenda that emphasized law and order, the promotion of individual rights and economic freedoms, and a reduced role for the state. The most elaborate attempt to propose an alternative to liberal internationalism emerged most clearly under Stephen Harper. Although its roots can be traced back to the 1990s,22 and while it was stimulated by the 9/11 attacks,23 neoconservative thinking coalesced after Chrétien’s decision in March 2003 not to commit Canada to the coalition against Iraq. Neoconservatism in Canadian foreign policy is based on five core propositions: moral clarity, a reassessment of Canada’s place in the world (as more than a “middle power”), stronger support for the United States, an increase in Canada’s military power, and greater circumspection regarding international institutions.24 Many of the positions adopted by the Harper government between 2006 and 2015 reflected this world view, including on conflicts in the Middle East, the defence of Canadian sovereignty in the Arctic, and developments in Ukraine.25 However, the Conservative government accumulated disappointments with the United States, for example, regarding the Keystone xl oil pipeline project, and the 2007–09 financial crisis deprived Ottawa of the means to increase the defence budget.

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Overall, however, it is hard to pinpoint Harper’s longer-term legacy in foreign policy. Clearly, neoconservative ideas about Canadian foreign policy have not been much in evidence since the Liberals under Justin Trudeau won the October 2015 election. In part, this is because neither of Harper’s successors – Andrew Scheer, who led the cpc from 2017 to 2020, and Erin O’Toole, who led the party from 2020 to February 2022 – articulated a comprehensive foreign policy position. Moreover, while the Harper Conservatives did try to make foreign policy an election issue in 2006, arguing that the “damage” caused by fifteen years of Liberal “neglect” under Chrétien and Martin needed to be repaired, it was the Liberals who successfully seized this issue during the 2015 election campaign. After the election, Trudeau would loudly proclaim that “Canada is back” in international affairs – unwittingly appropriating a slogan originally used by Harper after his election win in 2006.26 In addition, by 2017, with a president in the White House who was widely disliked in Canada,27 an approach that explicitly advocated closer alignment with the United States was unlikely to be popular. It was little surprise that after the Harper era, internationalism regained its dominant position in Canadian foreign policy discourse.

s a f e t y I n I n ert Ia The second reason for the broadening gap between image and reality in Canadian foreign policy is that since 2005, governments in Ottawa have refused to subject Canadian foreign policy to a serious review. While there have been periodic reviews of Canadian defence policy since 1964, formal reviews of foreign policy are relatively rare;28 the last such policy review was conducted in 2005, when the Liberal government of Paul Martin published its International Policy Statement: A Role of Pride and Influence in the World.29 After the Martin review of 2005, there were no further reviews: neither the Conservative government of Stephen Harper (2006–15) nor the Liberal government of Justin Trudeau that took office in 2015 undertook one. In the case of the Harper government, that a foreign policy review was not launched when the Conservatives took power in February 2006 seemed to have been a purposeful decision, part of the broader Conservative effort to reject foreign policy approaches undertaken by previous Liberal governments.30 In this view, given that every new

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Liberal prime minister since Pierre Elliott Trudeau had conducted a foreign policy review on taking office, the Conservatives would break the mould by not engaging in one. That initial decision was never revisited in the nine years that the Conservatives held office, not even after they won a majority in the 2011 elections. The Liberal government under Justin Trudeau that took office in November 2015 initiated a defence policy review but chose not to accompany it with a foreign policy review. Roland Paris, who served as foreign policy adviser to Trudeau from January 2015 until June 2016, notes that while Trudeau outlined a broad agenda for reasserting Canadian activism internationally, he left the task of articulating a comprehensive statement of foreign policy priorities to his foreign affairs minister, Stéphane Dion.31 But before Dion had an opportunity to advance this initiative, Trudeau shuffled him out of the foreign affairs portfolio following the election of Donald Trump.32 In his place, Trudeau appointed Chrystia Freeland, who was considered a better “fit” with the new administration in Washington. The foreign policy apparatus in Ottawa was reorganized to address what was widely viewed as a major crisis in canus relations. Freeland did not have the luxury of launching a proper foreign policy review; instead she opted to try to articulate the Trudeau government’s foreign policy in her June 2017 speech. Since 2017, there has been no willingness to revisit the idea of a foreign policy review. Instead, the Trudeau government seems to have found it easier – and politically safer – to fall back on triedand-true formulas inherited from Liberal governments of the past, rather than conduct full international policy reviews that would have addressed the significant changes that had occurred in the interim.

c o n c l u sI on The 9/11 attacks certainly had an impact on Canadian leaders’ conception of their country’s place in the world. The Liberal governments of Jean Chrétien and Paul Martin tried to accommodate the situation created by these events without questioning the foundations of liberal internationalism, and they succeeded to some extent. But from the perspective of the study of dominant ideas in Canadian foreign policy, the most important consequence was that 9/11 fuelled the emergence of rival, and very different, ideas about foreign policy – generally speaking, a neoconservative approach for Canada

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in the world. However, despite the efforts of the Conservative government of Stephen Harper, the graft did not take; after a nine-year hiatus, internationalism returned. Ideas are tenacious, and people do not change their conception of the world and their country’s place in it so easily, especially if these ideas fit well with a society’s self-image and identity. In this sense, dominant ideas are like Kuhnian paradigms, which can survive for long periods of time despite the emergence of anomalies that contradict them. Only after enough anomalies accumulate can a shift be set in motion. Canadian foreign policy is approaching this critical stage. In this chapter, we have argued that there is a significant disjuncture between the dominant image that Canadians continue to have of the international system and Canada’s place in it on the one hand, and the reality of an international system that is not conducive to internationalism on the other. Why Canadians have not adapted their views to fit the changing global environment, and why a paradigm shift has not taken place, continues to be a puzzle. In this chapter, we have proposed two interrelated reasons for this disjuncture: the lack of an appealing alternative to the dominant idea of internationalism, and the unwillingness of a succession of governments to undertake a serious re-examination of Canada’s place in a world that has changed radically since the 9/11 attacks. We acknowledge, however, that these inertial reasons go only part of the way toward solving the puzzle and that further investigation is needed. no t e s The authors would like to thank Elizabeth St John (University of Manitoba) for her comments and suggestions. 1 Chrystia Freeland. “Address by Minister Freeland on Canada’s foreign policy priorities,” Ottawa, Global Affairs Canada, 6 June 2017, https:// www.canada.ca/en/global-affairs/news/2017/06/address_by_minister freelandoncanadasforeignpolicypriorities.html. 2 See for example, H.R. McMaster and Gary D. Cohn, “America First Doesn’t Mean America Alone,” Wall Street Journal, 30 May 2017, https:// www.wsj.com/articles/america-first-doesnt-mean-america-alone-1496 187426. 3 For example, the assessments in Levon Sevunts, “Experts praise Freeland’s ‘courageous’ foreign policy speech,” rci : Radio Canada International,

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6

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13 June 2017. https://www.rcinet.ca/en/2017/06/13/experts-praisefreelands-courageous-foreign-policy-speech/. Thomas Walkom, “Chrystia Freeland’s nostalgic elegy for a US-dominated world order,” Toronto Star, 8 June 2017, https://www.thestar.com/ opinion/commentary/2017/06/08/chrystia-freelands-nostalgic-elegy-for-aus-dominated-world-order-walkom.html. For one view of the application of Thomas Kuhn to international relations and foreign policy, see Nicolas Guihot, “The Kuhning of Reason: Realism, Rationalism, and Political Decision in Ir Theory after Thomas Kuhn,” Review of International Studies 42, no. 1 (2016): 3–24, https://doi. org/10.1017/S0260210515000054. Renato Ruggiero, “The Road Ahead: International Trade Policy in the Era of the wto ,” Ottawa, Fourth Sylvia Ostry Lecture, 28 May 1996, https:// www.wto.org/english/news_e/sprr_e/ottawa_e.htm. Kim Richard Nossal, Stéphane Roussel, and Stéphane Paquin, The Politics of Canadian Foreign Policy, 4th ed. (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2015). See also Tom Keating, Canada and World Order: The Multilateralist Tradition in Canadian Foreign Policy, 3rd ed. (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2013); Don Munton and Tom Keating, “Internationalism and the Canadian Public,” Canadian Journal of Political Science 34, no. 3 (2001): 517–49, https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008423901777992; and Adam Chapnick, “The Golden Age: A Canadian Foreign Policy Paradox,” International Journal 64, no. 1 (2008-09): 205–21, http://doi.org/10.1177/00207 0200906400118. Roland Paris, “Are Canadians Still Liberal Internationalists? Foreign Policy and Public Opinion in the Harper Era,” International Journal 69, no. 3 (2014): 274–307, https://doi.org/10.1177/002070201 4540282. Rebecca Tiessen and Emma Swan, “Canada’s Feminist Foreign Policy Promises: An Ambitious Agenda for Gender Equality, Human Rights, Peace, and Security,” in Canada among Nations 2017: Justin Trudeau and Canadian Foreign Policy, ed. Norman Hillmer and Philippe Lagassé, 187–205 (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018); Heather Smith and Tari Ajadi, “Canada’s Feminist Foreign Policy and Human Security Compared,” International Journal 75 no. 3 (2020): 367–82, http://doi. org/10.1177/0020702020954547. Graeme Young, “Political Decision-Making and the Decline of Canadian Peacekeeping,” Canadian Foreign Policy Journal 25 no. 2 (2019): 152–71, https://doi.org/10.1080/11926422.2018.1543713.

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11 Adam Chapnick, “Ottawa’s Ill-Fated Quest for a UN Security Council Seat,” Policy Options, 19 June 2020, https://policyoptions.irpp.org/ magazines/june-2020/ottawas-ill-fated-quest-for-a-un-securitycouncil-seat. 12 John J. Mearsheimer, “Bound to Fail: The Rise and Fall of the Liberal International Order,” International Security 43, no. 4 (Spring 2019): 7–50, https://doi.org/10.1162/isec_a_00342. 13 Rita Abrahamsen, Louise Riis Andersen, and Ole Jacob Sending, “Introduction: Making Liberal Internationalism Great Again?,” International Journal 74, no. 1 (2019): 5–14, https://doi.org/10.1177/ 0020702019827050. 14 Jean-Christophe Boucher and Kim Richard Nossal, The Politics of War: Canada’s Mission in Afghanistan, 2001–14 (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2017). 15 Andrew F. Cooper and Emel Parlar Dal, “Positioning the Third Wave of Middle Power Diplomacy: Institutional Elevation, Practice Limitations,” International Journal 71, no. 4 (2017): 516–28, http://doi. org/10.1177/0020702016686385. 16 James Mahoney, “Path Dependence in Historical Sociology,” Theory and Society 29, no. 4 (2000): 507–48, https://www.jstor.org/stable/3108585; Paul Pierson, “Increasing Returns, Path Dependence, and the Study of Politics,” American Political Science Review 94, no. 2 (2000): 251–67, https://www.jstor.org/stable/2586011. 17 John W. Holmes, ed., No Other Way: Canada and International Security Institutions (Toronto: Centre for International Studies, 1987). 18 Michel Fortmann and Martin Larose, “An Emerging Counterculture? Pierre Elliott Trudeau, Canadian Intellectuals and the Revision of Liberal Defence Policy concerning nato (1968–1969),” International Journal 59, no. 3 (2004): 537–56, https://www.jstor.org/stable/40203954. 19 J.L. Granatstein and Robert Bothwell, Pirouette: Pierre Trudeau and Canadian Foreign Policy (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1990), 3–35. 20 Parliament of Canada, Independence and Internationalism: Report of the Special Joint Committee on Canada’s International Relations (Ottawa: Supply and Services Canada, 1986). 21 Stéphane Roussel, “Pearl Harbor et le World Trade Center: Le Canada face aux États-Unis en période de crise,” Études internationales 33, no. 4 (2002): 667–95, https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/006661ar. 22 Duane Bratt, “Implementing the Reform Party Agenda: The Roots of Stephen Harper’s Foreign Policy,” Canadian Foreign Policy Journal 24, no. 1 (2018): 1–17, http://doi.org/10.1080/11926422.2017.1359195.

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23 Anne Boerger, “Rendre au Canada sa puissance. La politique étrangère et de défense canadienne vue de l’Ouest,” in Stephen Harper de l’École de Calgary au Parti conservateur, ed. Frédéric Boily (Québec: Presses de l’Université Laval, 2007), 121–45; Manuel DorionSoulié, “Le Canada et le monde vus de l’Ouest: la politique étrangère de David Bercuson et de Barry Cooper,” Revue canadienne de science politique 46, no. 3 (2013): 645–64, http://doi.org/10.1017/s000842391 3000863. 24 Nossal, Roussel, and Paquin, The Politics of Canadian Foreign Policy; Manuel Dorion-Soulié and Stéphane Roussel, “‘Oui’ à l’Irak? Le baptême du feu de Stephen Harper et l’émergence du néocontinentalisme (2002– 2003),” Canadian Foreign Policy Journal 20, no. 1 (2014): 9–18, https:// doi.org/10.1080/11926422.2014.906360. See also Manuel Dorion-Soulie, ed., “Special issue: Le tournant néoconservateur de la politique étrangère canadienne sous Stephen Harper: conceptualisation et études de cas,” Études internationales 45, no. 4 (2014): 507–697, https://www.erudit.org/ en/journals/ei/2014-v45-n4-ei01825. 25 Adam Chapnick and Christopher J. Kukucha, eds, The Harper Era in Canadian Foreign Policy: Parliament, Politics, and Canada’s Global Posture (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2016). 26 Kim Richard Nossal, “Promises Made, Promises Kept? A Mid-Term Trudeau Foreign Policy Report Card,” in Canada among Nations 2017: Justin Trudeau and Canadian Foreign Policy, ed. Norman Hillmer and Philippe Lagassé (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018), 31–53. 27 Michael Adams, “Canadian Public’s Opinion of US at Unprecedented Low,” Policy Options, 21 November 2018, https://policyoptions.irpp.org/ magazines/november-2018/ canadian-publics-opinion-of-us-at-unprecedented-low. 28 David Malone, “Foreign Policy Reviews Reconsidered,” International Journal 56, no. 4 (2001): 555–78, https://www.jstor.org/stable/40203604; Mary Halloran, John Hilliker, and Greg Donaghy, “The White Paper Impulse: Reviewing Foreign Policy under Trudeau and Clark,” International Journal 70, no. 2 (2015): 309–21, https://www.jstor.org/ stable/24709463; Nelson Michaud, Stéphane Tremblay, and Frédéric Mayer, “The Role of History in the Formulation of Canadian Foreign Policy Statements,” International Journal 75, no. 4 (2020): 576–93, https://doi.org/10.1177/0020702020979055. 29 Government of Canada, Canada’s International Policy Statement: A Role of Pride and Influence in the World (Ottawa: 2005), mirrored at https:// www.files.ethz.ch/isn/15094/IPS-Overview22.pdf.

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30 Kim Richard Nossal, “The Liberal Past in the Conservative Present: Internationalism in the Harper Era,” in Canada in the World: Internationalism in Canadian Foreign Policy, ed. Heather A. Smith and Claire Turenne Sjolander (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2013), 21–35. 31 Roland Paris, “The Promise and Perils of Justin Trudeau’s Foreign Policy,” in Canada among Nations 2017: Justin Trudeau and Canadian Foreign Policy, ed. Norman Hillmer and Philippe Lagassé (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018), 17–29, 23–4. 32 On the relationship between Dion and Trudeau, see Jocelyn Coulon, Un selfie avec Justin Trudeau: Regard critique sur la diplomatie du premier ministre (Montréal: Québec Amérique, 2018), 83–97.

6 The “Kingston Dispensation” and the North American Stable Peace Post-9/11 David G. Haglund

The four years that elapsed between the time Donald Trump recorded his surprising victory in the November 2016 presidential balloting and the victory of Joseph R. Biden in November 2020 were, to put it charitably, tumultuous ones for Canada–US relations. Almost single-handedly, a president, who obviously took much more delight in serving as disrupter-in-chief than as commander-in-chief, managed to so degrade canus relations as to call into serious question the old notion that there might be something truly “exceptional” about the ties that bound the two North American lands. That old notion bore the label of the “North American Idea,” the focus of the chapter by Greg Anderson in this volume.1 And though the particular denotative qualities of that “idea” have often been debated by scholars and others with an interest in the North American security community, few were so alarmist as to think that the Kingston Dispensation – shorthand for a special canus pledge that the two nations would protect each other – would collapse. The Trump interlude did have many Canadians (and others) wondering whether the broader North American idea, subsumed in Robert Pastor’s vision of a trilateral security community including Mexico, might well and truly be dead or dying. In some respects, this represented the antithesis of the continental mood immediately after 9/11. Against these swings from optimism to pessimism, however, must be balanced one highly significant bilateral reality that managed to survive intact the events of 9/11 as well as the chaotic Trump era. That reality was the solidity of the canus security community. This chapter will contextualize and theorize the origins and

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evolution of that security community, with specific reference to a pair of policy concepts: the “Kingston dispensation” and the “North American stable peace.” Before unpacking these two concepts, it is important to review the mood of twenty years ago, which in so many ways provides the subtext for all of the chapters in this book. Back then, the canus border had been emerging, for the first time in quite a while, as a topic of concern to American (and some Canadian) security analysts. Today, of course, new issues have overshadowed that era’s focus on terrorism, which was the main impetus for anxiety about the canus border post-9/11. Now, on a global scale, the “rise” of China and aggression by Russia against its neighbours have combined to hint at the ominous return of great-power conflict. On a continental scale, to the extent that border security remains a major policy concern, it is primarily with respect to the US southern frontier. In this changed environment, it can sometimes be hard to recall how things appeared two decades ago. At that time, many Americans were beginning to evince a degree of alarm about the integrity of the canus border. This was not simply a case of overexcited right-wing politicians eager to heap any criticism they could upon the Liberal government of Jean Chrétien, who was seen by many of them as an unreliable security partner. There really was growing and widespread anxiety, within the American political class, about the border. Emblematic of this anxiety was a story that made headlines during the Christmas season of 2002. Normally, when Yuletide stories recounted in the American media invoke Canada at all, they are either about a descending Arctic cold front (these days stylized as a “polar vortex”) or, on a much warmer note, about norad’s Christmas Eve tracking of Santa and his reindeer as they wend their way southward through Canadian airspace. The Canada-related Christmas news in 2002, however, featured a different and more lugubrious set of travellers, whose only resemblance to Santa Claus was that they were also fictitious. But for a time, many well-placed Americans actually believed that five (or more) potential Islamic terrorists were making their way southward from Canada on Christmas Eve. Among those who believed it was New York’s junior senator, Hillary Clinton. Canadian authorities were not amused. One of them, immigration minister Denis Coderre, demanded that Clinton apologize for scare-mongering, to which the senator replied that it was

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precisely because Americans had become so anxious about border security that even false alarms were becoming “all too believable.” She added that “I take very seriously my responsibility to speak out about the US government’s responsibility to allocate increased resources to the protection of our northern border, and I will continue to do so.”2 Senator Clinton was far from being the only American political figure to express concerns about the security of the country’s northern border, and the fact that she happened to be a liberal Democrat suggests that it was not simply “red-meat Republicans”3 who were thinking along those lines. Many Americans (and a few Canadians, for that matter) were worried that Canada had been turning into a safe haven for terrorism – but the worrying only took on serious proportions after 9/11. Reflecting those proportions was a cBs Sixty Minutes broadcast of late April 2002, which attracted a great deal of attention in the United States, featuring as it did interviews with two retired Canadian officials whose professional responsibilities once lay in the spheres of intelligence and immigration policy. As portrayed by the two – David Harris (formerly a contractor for csIs ) and James Bissett (of cBsa ) – Ottawa was running a refugee and immigration system that was, to put it mildly, so loosely supervised that even the most dim-witted terrorist would find it child’s play to set up shop in the country and use it as a base for attacking targets on American soil.4 But it was not just a matter of one television show, no matter how many millions were watching. In the aftermath of 9/11, many Americans were, just like Hillary Clinton, expressing anxiety about border security. Some, although not the New York senator herself, let their imaginations run so wild that they had bought into the fake news that at least a few of the 9/11 terrorists had entered the United States via Canada.5 One congressman, James Traficant, soon to be a former congressman because of a corruption scandal, declared in front of his House colleagues two weeks after the September attacks that “the two planes that struck the World Trade Center, those individuals came through Canada.”6 In fact, none of the hijackers had entered the United States from Canada. Try as they might to dispel the notion (and try they did), Canadian officials could not convince Americans that the border was secure in the weeks and months following the attacks. Part of the inability to take solace from Canadian assurances was Americans’ realization

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of how incapable their own border authorities had been of preventing terrorists from entering the United States directly from overseas. The implication was that if the sprawling US Immigration and Naturalization Service (Ins ), coupled with the vaunted and wellfunded American intelligence services, could not have prevented Al-Qaeda sleeper cells from setting up in America, then it was at least as likely, and probably much more likely, that relatively “laidback” Canada, with its propensity chronically to underspend on defence as well as to minimize the gravity of threats, was a magnet for terrorists. But there was something else jangling American security nerves whenever Canada came up. This was the “Millennium bomber,” whose own festive New Year’s Eve planning for 2000 called for the detonation of a powerful explosive at Los Angeles’s international airport. The plotter, an Algerian named Ahmed Ressam, never did succeed, for he was apprehended by the Ins on 14 December 1999 while trying to enter the state of Washington from the province of British Columbia by ferry from Vancouver Island – with a bomb-making kit stashed in the trunk of his rented car. If one assumes that Canadian and American intelligence had not been trailing him all along,7 it was a very close call. Almost as disturbing as the mayhem he had intended to unleash were the circumstances surrounding his presence in North America. Details of that came out during Ressam’s three-week trial in the spring of 20018 and were recounted in a cBc documentary titled Trail of a Terrorist, which was aired in both Canada and the United States in the late summer and early autumn of 2001.9 If ever one individual seeking asylum in Canada could be held to symbolize problems with the country’s refugee administration procedures, then that individual was Ahmed Ressam. In this post-9/11 moment, the concept “Kingston dispensation” first appeared in print, for reasons I explain in the next section of this chapter.

w h a t w a s ( o r I s ) the “ kIn g s t o n dI s p ens atIon”? This term was introduced in a paper delivered at a conference that was held in Texas in the autumn of 2001.10 The paper was co-authored by Michel Fortmann, of the Université de Montréal, and me. Reflecting the growing concerns about terrorism that were

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so depressingly obvious in that early post-9/11 period, we queried the future of canus cooperation in counterterrorism. My particular task, in our authorial division of labour, was to develop a conceptual framework for the paper; Professor Fortmann’s was to provide empirical context to evolving trends in Washington concerning a topic that was increasingly being referred to as “homeland security.” We titled the paper “Does the ‘Kingston Dispensation’ Still Hold? Canada and the Issue of Homeland Security.”11 That title alluded to an important policy address delivered by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt (fdr ) in 1938 at a Canadian university convocation ceremony. The question it carried testified to the changing mood in the United States post-9/11 regarding the possibility that the canus border might again become something that, in earlier centuries, it had been: a porous membrane through which “bad actors” could easily slip in a bid to inflict damage on the neighbouring country’s physical security. At one time, during the intercolonial wars that raged between France and Britain in North America (1689 to 1763), armed cross-border incursions were so frequent as to be simply a fact of continental life (or, more accurately, death). The pattern continued, diminuendo, following the American Revolution and the War of 1812. But by 1870, with the last of the Fenian raids against Canadian targets in the immediate aftermath of the American Civil War, such incursions, especially those conducted by “non-state armed actors,”12 effectively ended.13 What the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington did was reawaken those older fears about such non-state actors, only this time it was Americans, not Canadians, who were evincing the greatest concern for border security. Scholars, including me, puzzled by the return of a problem once thought to have been solved, sought means of conceptualizing and theorizing this conundrum. My own quest led me to concoct the label “Kingston dispensation” as a means to say something useful about the bilateral/binational dimensions of the challenges to homeland security in North America. My doctoral research project14 had focused on US grand strategy in the five years preceding Pearl Harbor, with a focus on security in the Western Hemisphere.15 I had become familiar with an important policy address that fdr had delivered in 1938 on the Queen’s University campus in Kingston, Ontario. I could not, of course, presume to affix at the time I was writing my dissertation a conceptual

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handle to that speech, but I did recall Roosevelt’s remarks as having constituted an important step in the direction of tighter canus security and defence cooperation. It was only during the second half of the 1980s, when I had become involved in planning an inaugural conference to be sponsored by the new Queen’s University School of Policy Studies (sps ) in Kingston, Ontario, that I once more turned my thoughts to Roosevelt’s address. That year happened to mark the fiftieth anniversary of the Roosevelt speech, which had been delivered before a large crowd assembled at the Queen’s football stadium (Richardson Field). As important anniversaries have a way of doing, this one virtually suggested itself as something we would want to highlight, ideally as an organizing theme of a conference exploring a variety of canus public policy issues.16 The Fall 2001 conference in Texas challenged me to theorize about that speech in the context of that bilateral issue area. I chose to use the word “dispensation” in framing its importance, but in so choosing I really only meant it as a synonym for “order” or “arrangement.” I thought it had a nicer ring than either of those synonyms, so I applied it, and it seems, for better or worse, to have stuck. I say for better or worse because dispensation has, as one of its drawbacks, an inherent ambiguity stemming from the various ways in which it is defined in English dictionaries. As well, it renders itself susceptible to being mistranslated in French, to suggest an act of “exemption,” connoting a distribution of favours, as in papal dispensation. This was definitely not what I had in mind. Instead, I had in mind not an exemption from undertaking an obligation, but just the reverse: a commitment to make and to keep an obligation. The obligation in question was the “neighbourly” one of taking seriously the legitimate physical security interests of the other country when developing one’s own policy on security and defence. This, to me, was what Roosevelt signalled he was doing with respect to Canadian security interests in his 18 August 1938 speech at Richardson Stadium. For what the president was saying was that if another war erupted in Europe (as it looked very likely to do at any minute, in that late summer of 1938), and if Canada, just as it had in August 1914, went off to war for a second time at Britain’s side, and if the European fighting were brought to North America by Canada’s enemies – if all these things transpired, then the United States, in fdr ’s famous formulation, would “not stand idly by” should Canada’s territorial security be threatened by one

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of those enemies.17 Roosevelt did not mention Germany by name, but in the context of the Sudetenland crisis, he did not need to – his meaning was lost on no one. The United States would defend Canada if it were attacked by a Germany infuriated by Canada’s making war against it. The Monroe Doctrine notwithstanding, the Kingston address constituted the first specific and credible pledge by the United States to come to its neighbour’s military assistance in the event that Canadian territory came under attack. For his part, Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King, speaking a few days later (though not in Kingston), pledged that Canada would ensure that nothing it did would jeopardize the physical security of the United States – a pledge made in a speech in Woodbridge, Ontario. The two leaders’ pledges constituted what I labelled the “Kingston dispensation.” For more than eighty years, the Kingston dispensation has represented the normative core of canus defence and security cooperation. It was, and remains, extremely important in international and continental security affairs. It was especially pertinent to the discussions about continental security that transpired in months and years following the 9/11 attacks. Before I turn to that penultimate section, a further observation needs to be made about what the Kingston address was sometimes seen to have represented at the time it was made. Especially significant is what it represented in terms of the American grand strategy of isolation from the European balance of power. American intervention in April 1917 had come to be remembered both by American leaders and by their public during the interwar period – especially throughout the 1930s – as having been a historical blunder of the first magnitude.18 Some of Roosevelt’s critics suspected that he was hatching an “interventionist” plot on Canadian soil. One such observer was the Irish-American nationalist Charles Callan Tansill, who accused Roosevelt of betraying the isolationist cause in Kingston. “Since 1932,” wrote Tansill, Roosevelt “had been lustily singing in a chorus of isolationists but had been furtively eyeing the exotic wench of collective security who waited in the wings for the cue that would inevitably come.” For the metaphorically minded Tansill, Richardson Stadium had provided the stage from which Roosevelt could deliver that cue.19 In fact, it was no such thing. But it certainly did mark a major development in the evolution of the North American “stable peace,” a concept to which I now turn.

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s t aB l e p e a c e t heory: t h e n o r t h a m e rI can pattern The Kingston dispensation was not quite an alliance, but it would only take two more years after this reciprocal exchange of commitments for an institutionalized bilateral alliance to be forged in North America, through an executive agreement in the summer of 1940 creating the Permanent Joint Board on Defense (pjBd ). It was signed by Roosevelt and Mackenzie King not far from Kingston, in Ogdensburg, New York, on 18 August, two years to the day after the president’s Kingston speech.20 That alliance remains America’s longest-lasting bilateral security pact, notwithstanding widely bruited tales about France being America’s “oldest” ally. It is also, although this is not as well-appreciated by students of international security as it might be, an exemplar of the phenomenon of peaceful change in the international system. Usually, when scholars turn to this kind of (happy) change, they focus their attention on a different part of the world from North America. They look at Western Europe as the locus of the international system’s first “pluralistic” security community.21 Security communities are those entities about which it can be said that their members neither use force nor even threaten to use force when it comes to settling disputes that arise between them.22 Notwithstanding this assumption that post–Second World War Europe constituted the seedbed of the modern pluralistic security community, it was really pre-Second World War North America that deserves that honour. To understand this transformation in the continental security environment, Charles Kupchan’s “stable peace theory” is a useful place to start, for it allows us to capture the stages of peaceful change in North America. Kupchan developed his theory in order to show how animosity could become transmuted into friendship through a three-step process dependent on (1) institutionalized restraint in diplomatic interactions;23 (2) the presence of compatible social orders between the interacting states; and (3) cultural commonality among them. Of these three conditions, Kupchan considers only the latter two to be necessary, with the first restraint merely being a “favouring” one.24 Kupchan also helpfully provides a second three-part distinction, stipulating the stages through which a developing irenic inter-state relationship proceeds on its path to stable peace. The first of these is rapprochement. The second is security community. The third and

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most intense phase of stable peace Kupchan refers to as “union,” which as I employ it here can be taken as synonymous with a certain species of deep and comprehensive security cooperation suggestive of the tight binational integration that so characterizes the Canada– US alliance – cooperation that came so prominently into play in the post-9/11 period.25 As Kupchan employs the same concept, union denotes the highest stage of stable peace, one in which the interacting states participate in the shaping of a new identity through a process of “narrative generation,” meaning that elites in one state can no longer quite see those in the other as being fundamentally different from themselves in matters appertaining to defence (in this case, in North America). This is why he says that in a theoretical sense, the iterative construction of stable peace starts in realism (rapprochement engendered by restraint), goes through liberalism (security community), and finishes in constructivism (collective identity).26 With Kupchan’s theory in mind, we can see that the Kingston dispensation has indeed generated a “narrative” about North American security cooperation that is, at one and the same time, consistent with assumptions about security communities but also implies something else. After all, within a security community, members undertake not to do something. What they abjure is using or threatening to use military force as a means of settling disputes that inevitably will arise between them. The Kingston dispensation takes measures further than that – not that there is anything to be discommended in states agreeing not to solve their quarrels with fisticuffs, quite the contrary. The dispensation has generated a narrative – we could call it a security “imaginary” – that removes any reason for policy-makers in either country (realistically, in our case, the most powerful of the pair) to exit the security community. Such an exit is mightily constrained by the “union,” and the union in turn is greatly enabled by the dispensation. For the latter really does require each of the countries to do something. It requires them to take into the most serious consideration the legitimate physical security interests of the neighbouring state. It does not require them to go to war elsewhere on behalf of the other country. The United States, though a bona fide ally as of August 1940, continued to remain out of Canada’s war until December 1941; Canada, though an ally, likewise abstained from participating in America’s wars in Vietnam (1955–75) and Iraq (2003). What is required is that they endeavour to collaborate seamlessly in safeguarding continental security – at least as seamlessly as circumstances permit.

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c o n c l u sI on It is highly doubtful, in the event that the Kingston dispensation were breached, that the security community, much less the alliance, could survive the damage. And that is why, from the perspective of canus security relations, the Kingston dispensation is so important. It remains what it has been since the summer of 1938, the central normative buttress of canus security and defence relations. It persisted after 9/11, and it endures. No policy-maker, in either country, should wish to imagine a future security setting from which this normative buttress is absent. Nor is it likely that any policy-maker would so wish. no t e s 1 An early instantiation of this felicific, indeed somewhat messianic, notion was James A. Macdonald, The North American Idea (Toronto: McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart, 1917). A much more recent, and modest, expression of North American exceptionalism is Robert A. Pastor, The North American Idea: A Vision of a Continental Future (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011). Unlike Macdonald’s vision of North America as involving only Canada and the United States, Pastor’s brings into the picture Mexico, the topic of Athanasios Hristoulas’s chapter in this volume. 2 Quoted in “Coderre Calls for Apology from Hilary Clinton,” Globe and Mail (Toronto), online edition, 9 January 2003. 3 Lawrence Martin, “Snarl-Spangled Banter,” Globe and Mail, 4 July 2002, A17. 4 Colin Freeze, “Canada Tarred Again as Haven for Terrorists,” Globe and Mail, 26 April 2002, A1, A14. The segment was broadcast on Sunday, 28 April. 5 One former US intelligence official, Vince Cannistraro, thought that as many as five of the 9/11 terrorists might have entered the United States from Canada, some travelling by ferry from Nova Scotia to Maine before going on to Boston’s Logan airport. See Jeff Sallot, Andrew Mitrovica, and Tu Thanh Ha, “Canadian Connection Suspected in Hijackings,” Globe and Mail, 13 September 2001, A1, A13. 6 Quoted in John Ibbitson, “US Points the Finger Due North,” Globe and Mail, 27 September 2001, A1, A11. 7 To their surprise, Canadian reporters were told on 3 December 2001, by no less a figure than the US attorney general, John Ashcroft, that Canada had

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9 10

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not bungled the Ressam affair, but had instead provided the United States with invaluable information. The attorney general, who was in Ottawa to sign a border agreement with Canada, lauded the “outstanding cooperation of Canadian authorities” in the matter. Daniel Leblanc, “Canada Praised for Tip to US on Ressam,” Globe and Mail, 4 December 2001, A1, A13. On 6 April 2001, after a three-week trial in Los Angeles, Ressam was found guilty on nine criminal counts for plotting to detonate explosives at the Los Angeles International Airport during the millennium celebrations. In 2012, he was sentenced to thirty-seven years in jail. See fBI , “Milennium Plot/Ahmed Ressam,” https://www.fbi.gov/history/famouscases/millennium-plot-ahmed-ressam. It was shown in Canada in September 2001, and in the US, on pBs , a month later. The conference was the 16th biennial meeting of the Association for Canadian Studies in the United States, held that November in San Antonio, Texas. It was subsequently published, under this same title, as an article in Canadian Military Journal 3 (Spring 2002): 17–22. Diane E. Davis, “Non-State Armed Actors, New Imagined Communities, and Shifting Patterns of Sovereignty and Insecurity in the Modern World,” Contemporary Security Policy 30 (August 2009): 221–45. See Peter Vronsky, Ridgeway: The American Fenian Invasion and the 1866 Battle That Made Canada (Toronto: Allen Lane, 2011); Hereward Senior, The Last Invasion of Canada: The Fenian Raids, 1866–1870 (Toronto: Dundurn Press, 1991); Wilfried Neidhardt, Fenianism in North America (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1975). Conducted at Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies in the 1970s. Subsequently published as Latin America and the Transformation of US Strategic Thought, 1936–1940 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1984). Indeed, so natural did the connection with Roosevelt seem that we initially explored the idea of having as keynote speaker one of fdr ’s successors in the New York governorship, Mario Cuomo (who at the time was being rumoured as a possible successor of Roosevelt in Washington). I recall with some amusement a telephone conversation I had in early 1988 with one of Cuomo’s advisers, who seemed to think that an invitation from us would be well-received by the governor, since “he was from Queen’s.” I politely remarked that we were not that Queen’s.

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17 Quoted in Samuel I. Rosenman, comp., The Public Papers and Addresses of Franklin D. Roosevelt, 13 vols (New York: Random House, 1938; Macmillan, 1941–50), 7:492. 18 Even today, an argument can be made that the 1917 intervention effectively sealed the doom of millions in a future generation because it prevented the kind of negotiated settlement of the First World War that would have obviated German revanchism and thus another world war. See, for an instance of this counterfactual contention, Michael Kazin, “The Great Mistake in the Great War,” New York Times, 6 April 2017, A28; as well as Michael Kazin, War against War: The American Fight for Peace, 1914–1918 (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2017), xv–xvi. 19 Charles Callan Tansill, Back Door to War: The Roosevelt Foreign Policy, 1933–1941 (Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1952), 410. 20 Christopher Conliffe, “The Permanent Joint Board on Defense, 1940– 1988,” in The US–Canada Security Relationship: The Politics, Strategy, and Technology of Defense, ed. David G. Haglund and Joel J. Sokolsky (Boulder: Westview, 1989), 145–65. Insight into the changing context of Canada–US security debates in the half decade preceding the accord can be found in Frederick W. Gibson and Jonathan G. Rossie, eds, The Road to Ogdensburg: The Queen’s/St Lawrence Conferences on Canadian– American Affairs, 1935–1941 (East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 1993). 21 Pluralistic security communities differ from amalgamated ones in that the latter require the merger of formerly disparate sovereign entities into a new political unit, while the former comprise two or more sovereign political entities (i.e., states). See Charles Pentland, International Theory and European Integration (London: Faber, 1973). 22 See Emanuel Adler and Michael N. Barnett, “Governing Anarchy: A Research Agenda for the Study of Security Communities,” Ethics and International Affairs 10 (1996): 63–98; as well as Karl Deutsch et al., Political Community and the North Atlantic Area (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957). 23 For a good analysis of restraint and accommodation as correlated with peaceful change, see T.V. Paul, Restraining Great Powers: Soft Balancing from Empires to the Global Era (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2018). 24 Charles A. Kupchan, How Enemies Become Friends: The Sources of Stable Peace (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2010), 6–8. 25 This is why, in the canus context, one frequently encounters security and defence cooperation being conceptualized in terms of “binationalism”

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rather than merely “bilateralism.” See, for these usages, Bernard J. Brister, The Same Yet Different: Continuity and Change in the Canada–United States Post-9/11 Security Relationship (Kingston: Canadian Defence Academy Press, 2012). 26 Kupchan, How Enemies Become Friends, 52.

pa r t t wo

Border, Trade, and Economics

7 Bordering Processes in North America from 11 September to Covid-19: Changing Canadian and US Approaches to Border Security and Migration Laura Macdonald and Jeffrey Ayres

One of the more memorable moments during the 1988 Canadian federal election came in the form of a Liberal Party of Canada campaign advertisement criticizing the Progressive Conservative government of Prime Minister Brian Mulroney for its support of the proposed Canada–United States Free Trade Agreement (cusfta ). The advertisement opens with what appears to be a US negotiator telling his Canadian counterpart, “Since we are talking about this free trade agreement, there is one line I’d like to change … it’s just getting in the way.” The line, of course, is the international border between Canada and the United States. The US official then proceeds to erase the line with a pencil eraser, while an accompanying sombre voice-over intones, “This is more than an election, it’s your future.” The advertisement illustrated the common sentiment of that era that old-style borders, seen as fixed lines separating state territories, were being eroded as a result of trade liberalization. In fact the cusfta , which came into effect in 1989, followed five years later by the North American Free Trade Agreement (nafta ), did usher in a rapid expansion of commercial flows and a deepening of economic integration between Canada, the United States and in turn Mexico. The nafta agreement, albeit unintentionally, also led to the increased flow of people across North American borders, particularly the US–Mexico border, unleashing a powerful political backlash still felt to this day. The terrorist attacks on the United

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States on 11 September 2001, however, dramatically slowed global and regional momentum toward the erasure of borders. This chapter analyzes the evolution of borders and bordering processes and in particular their effects on the mobility of people across North America after 9/11, focusing primarily on the Canada–US border. We argue that North America was beginning to “deborder” after cusfta and nafta and that the mobility of people was becoming more fluid at the US’s northern border. However, 9/11 launched a phase of “rebordering” the continent, which included the racializing of some categories of would-be border crossers. The conceptual literature on borders offers valuable tools for describing and explaining these processes. This historical period has seen conflicting tendencies regarding asymmetrical versus symmetrical approaches to the US northern and southern borders. Bordering processes that were previously limited to the US–Mexico border were transferred and/or adapted to the Canada–US border, with a particular focus on limiting the movement of people now seen as security threats. The chapter examines and compares Canadian and US government policies for regulating, demarcating, and characterizing the movement of persons across the countries’ shared border after the 9/11 attacks, with the more recent responses to the Covid-19 pandemic. The responses to the 9/11 crisis led to the intensification of controls over the movements of individuals. Under the Trump presidency, US border anxiety initially shifted away from possible terrorist threats toward xenophobic responses to Mexican and Central American migrants, whom Trump portrayed as a threat to American greatness. By contrast, the response to the Covid-19 crisis by the two governments focused on ensuring the continued movement of goods (examined in the chapter by Lilly and Walter in this book) and operation of supply chains, combined with unprecedented restrictions on the movement of persons in order to combat the spread of the virus. In this case, individuals’ mobility was constrained not just on a bilateral basis at the land borders between the two countries but also at the subnational level between states and provinces within each of the two countries. Over the last two decades, we see the overlapping and accumulation of multiple rationales and practices of border management.1

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c o n c e p t u a lI z Ing Borders a n d Bo r d e rI n g practI ces Over the past twenty years, scholarship on borders has evolved dramatically, as has the official view of the Canada–US border. Borders are no longer viewed (as in the cusfta political ad) as fixed territorial lines separating states;2 instead, they are seen as fluid, malleable, and active and as serving a variety of sorting and filtering functions and symbolic purposes. Territorial international borders have lessened somewhat in importance; at the same time, political, cultural, economic, social, and technological trends have encouraged new bordering processes that serve to order and categorize society. Borders are no longer viewed as static, fixed structures; instead, they are seen as historically and politically contingent processes,3 continuously refashioned and reinterpreted in response to shifts in political, economic, cultural, and social practices. Shaped by political debates, policy priorities, and conflicts, borders increasingly serve specific functions: they separate trade, investment, peoples, and ideas, and they facilitate political cooperation, economic innovation, and communication. In addition, symbolically, borders constitute collective identities, allowing individuals and groups to demarcate themselves from others. The concepts of rebordering and debordering provide a useful approach to understanding and explaining the multidimensional character and purposes of borders. As Herzog and Sohn have argued,4 borders and border institutions are continually changing and reinventing themselves, oscillating between moments of debordering and rebordering. Rebordering practices evolved as ways of demarcating, sorting, and filtering – they regulated processes of transformation but without stopping them. These practices and processes are not necessarily congruent with the territorial borders on a map, and they make human mobility more difficult, because they selectively include and exclude individuals.5 As discussed in the chapter in this volume by Jean-Christophe Boucher, Jean-François Payette, and Stéphane Roussel, the 9/11 attacks were followed by an adoption of the logic of securitization by national and subnational governments. This logic reflected in part an attempt to thicken territorial borders; such rebordering may work to sort people according to their association with different ethnic, cultural, national, social,

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economic, and political groups.6 Conversely, “debordering” reflects the increased permeability of territorial borders and the decreased capacity of states to completely close off and protect themselves against different sorts of cross-border activities.7 In other words, debordering occurs when economic systems, transnational identities, immigrants, or asylum-seekers cross territorial boundaries, often as a result of states’ failed efforts at rebordering. In short, while over the past twenty years since 9/11 border control efforts have evolved and changed in response to perceived changes in security threats against the US homeland, bordering practices and policies from the pre-9/11 period and then the Bush to Obama to Trump to Biden administrations have overlapped and accumulated, and have done so in a complex manner that continues to redefine insider/outsider and domestic/foreign categories of belonging.

9 / 1 1 a n d “ m e xIc an Izat Ion” o f t h e c a n a d a – u s Border reg Ime Historically, North American borders were relatively porous. Migrants within the continent were able to move with few impediments in response to labour market demands. Prior to 9/11, however, the US southern border had undergone decades of rebordering in response to perceived threats from undocumented Mexican migrants. Critics of US immigration policy argue that from its inception the US Border Patrol agency has been permeated by a culture of racism, directed in particular against Mexican citizens entering the United States along the southern border. This phenomenon can be viewed as part of a broader ideology of racialization – a historical process whereby social categories are delineated, largely based on physical features, “through a representational process of defining an Other.”8 During the 1980s, the United States adopted a series of measures to combat the flow of both narcotics and migrants by “sealing” its southern border (or at least projecting the image that it had done so). These measures included military deployments, physical fencing, the adoption of high-tech devices like electronic sensors, and the use of the Border Patrol.9 Canadians, by and large, were perceived by the American public and state as part of “them,” or at least reassuringly similar.10 nafta proponents in both Mexico and the United States hoped that the agreement would encourage new jobs in Mexico and

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thereby staunch the flow of migrants. Instead, it undercut traditional agriculture and displaced millions of migrants who moved north looking for jobs.11 Throughout the 1990s, the US–Mexico border thus became the site of intense anxiety and reinforcement, while the US–Canada border was largely ignored or overlooked, given that migrant flows across that border were relatively limited and that there were similar levels of economic and social development on the two sides, and also given the lack of racialization processes and perceptions at that border. This lack of attention toward the northern border ended suddenly and dramatically after the 9/11 attacks, resulting in rebordering practices aimed at both US borders. North America’s borders became intensified but also more mobile, diversified, and multi-sited.12 As we discuss below, the sudden turn away from an overarching concern with controlling the flow of migrants toward targeting Al Qaeda–inspired terrorists brought about a dramatic shift in the treatment of the Canada–US border and in the institutions and resources devoted to border control and policing at both borders. After 9/11, Canada’s relatively open policies toward immigrants and refugee claimants were viewed as threats to US national security. These “lax” policies were identified as a way in which terrorists could gain access to the North American continent and then enter the United States (see the chapters by Haglund and Nash). US policy now shifted toward what Andreas called the “Mexicanization” of the US–Canada border,13 as comparable policies and restrictive rationales were applied towards both borders.14 Peter Andreas writes that these measures unsettled the US–Canada special relationship and ended what had been a “mutually convenient low-maintenance approach to border control matters.”15 Both Canada and Mexico were increasingly viewed as security concerns by Washington, and both became painfully aware of the implications of their asymmetric interdependence on the United States.16 Immediately after 9/11, US border inspectors were placed on a Level 1 Alert, which dramatically slowed traffic at both borders. These border controls disrupted both cross-border trade (see the chapter by Lilly and Walter) and travel. While the alert was eventually removed, the US efforts toward rebordering to exclude potential security threats placed intense pressure on both Canada and Mexico to reform their immigration and refugee and border control policies.

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The United States intensified some of its policy directions toward rebordering the North American space that had begun in the 1990s, now with a new rationale. There was an escalation of securitization policies on the US side, with a doubling of the number of border guards and the deployment of the National Guard to the US–Mexico border. New surveillance technologies such as unmanned drones were deployed, as well as other military technologies, such as Stryker combat vehicles.17 The United States also created the dhs , rapidly merging twenty-two government departments into a single agency with the overarching objective of protecting the territorial United States from terrorist threats. Regarding border control, Congress adopted the Patriot Act, which required the detention of non-citizens if the Attorney General certified that there were reasonable grounds to believe that the “individual is a terrorist, a supporter of terrorist activities, or engaged in activities that endanger the United States.”18 The same act upgraded the technology used for screening entrants (so as to include seismic meters, infrared devices, magnetic sensors, and video surveillance systems). The US government tightened its visa application procedures and expanded the grounds for denying entry to non-citizens. President George W. Bush imposed a temporary moratorium on refugee admissions, primarily aimed at Middle Eastern citizens.19 The number of agents posted to the US–Canada border tripled from 300 to 900; 8,000 agents were stationed along the US–Mexico border.20 The new policies, however, involved more than hardening the border as a fixed site. They also included rebordering – that is, redeploying US border policies away from the 49th parallel and the Rio Grande toward internal sites within both neighbouring countries. “Smart” technologies were adopted to establish technology- and knowledge-intensive checkpoints both at traditional territorial borders and within the US territory; this shifted surveillance and control away from the physical border. This was an attempt to identify and sift out risky populations from safe populations (and commodities) to protect US national security.21 dhs agents were legally empowered to stop vehicles within 100 miles of the US–Mexico and US–Canada borders and to search private land within twenty-five miles of those borders. These practices illustrate the operationalization of “remote control” – that is, the expanded securitization functions of the border were increasingly delocalized and focused on policing, detaining, and relocating “mobilities” not in immediate

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proximity to the international legal border.22 The introduction of the Western Hemisphere Travel Initiative shortly after 9/11 required all travellers, US citizens and foreign nationals alike, to present a passport or other acceptable document denoting identity and citizenship when entering the United States. Chrétien’s Liberal government responded quickly to US perceptions of insecurity at the Canada–US border with a multifaceted strategy to reassure the Bush administration that the border was secure. In December 2001, Bill C-36, the Anti-Terrorism Act, was quickly adopted, which defined terrorism very broadly and enacted tougher sanctions on terrorism-related offences.23 The Canadian Parliament also passed Bill C-42, the Public Safety Act in 2002, which required airlines to provide information about passengers prior to travel and established penalties for assisting illegal border-crossing and trafficking. The same act included the provision that refugee determination processes could be suspended if there were reasonable grounds to believe that a claimant was involved in terrorism or a war criminal.24 As well, Bill C-11, the Immigration and Refugee Protection Act, was passed in June 2002 and included tougher penalties for immigration offences and declared that violators of international human rights, members of crime syndicates, and other individuals viewed as security threats were ineligible for refugee status.25 Canada also deployed new infrastructure and technology to the border as part of its own rebordering process. The December 2001 budget earmarked $433 million to the Canada Customs and Revenue Agency (ccra ) for investments in high-tech solutions to ensure safety at Canada’s land and sea borders and at airports. By 2003, the following investments had been made: · $22 million for eleven Vehicle and Cargo Inspection Systems (vacIs machines); · $7.3 million for more than sixty low-energy baggage and cargo X-ray systems; · $4 million for an additional eighty-one ion mobility spectrometers; · $1.5 million to purchase more than 200 hand-held inspection tools, including fibrescopes, density meters, and sophisticated pole cameras; · $1.1 million to fund the development and testing of new interdiction technology to detect traces of chemical and biological weapons or agents entering the country;

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· $6 million for the purchase of three gamma-ray pallet-scanning systems to assist in the examination of high-risk marine cargo; and · $4.6 million for the purchase of 400 document readers, to be deployed at fifty sites, including international airports, ferry terminals, and highway crossings.26 In addition, for the first time, Canada permitted US agents to be posted at Canadian ports of entry and departure. Stricter procedures were adopted related to refugees and asylum-seekers, including more thorough security and background checks on new refugee and asylum claimants. Another rapid response of the Canadian government was the negotiation of a “Smart Border Accord” with the United States. This was in addition to commitments to increase information-sharing, pre-clearances, shared border facilities, common standards and so on. It also included measures to share information on asylum-seekers in order to “identify potential security and criminality threats and expose ‘forum shoppers’ who seek asylum in both systems.”27 In addition, the Smart Border Accord called for a “Safe Third Country Agreement” (stca ), signed by the two countries in 2002 in order to manage the flow of asylum claimants at land border ports of entry. That agreement required any person arriving at a land port of entry between the two countries to make a refugee status claim in the first country in which they arrived. In practice, this meant that Canada would turn back refugee claimants at the land border and return them to the United States to make their claim given that the United States was most often their first point of entry. Overall, the post-9/11 period saw an intensification of controls at the Canada–US border, duplicating some of the forms of control earlier practised at the US southern border, including increased use of US customs and border patrols, spending significantly more resources on efforts to stop drug trafficking and illegal border crossings, and the erection of remote video surveillance towers using artificial intelligence and radar to track illegal activity.28 This hardening of the land border overlapped with new forms of bordering practised away from the two land borders. These rebordering and debordering processes would intensify after Donald Trump was elected president in 2016. Under the Trump administration, bordering processes served further to sort, filter, exclude, and deport people according to their

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membership in certain ethnic, racial, religious, and national groups. Rebordering was also accelerated through Trump’s use of executive orders, policies that dramatically curtailed refugee resettlement, and expanded powers for border security and immigration agencies to arrest, detain, and deport people. Arguably the most obvious manifestation of nativist and xenophobic tendencies was the social practices and discourses Trump deployed to produce and reproduce borders within the territorial boundaries of the United States. Trump’s fear-mongering characterizations of undocumented immigrants in his campaign speeches and Tweets presaged the issuance of several executive orders within the first week of his new administration connected to US immigration, deportation, and enforcement policies. These orders included: (1) Enhancing Public Safety in the Interior of the United States; (2) Border Security and Immigration Enforcement Improvements; and (3) Protecting the Nation from Foreign Terrorist Entry into the United States. The first of these ordered US law enforcement agencies to act aggressively to remove all undocumented migrants, even those not previously convicted of a crime, which was a notable change from the Obama administration.29 The second focused on fulfilling Trump’s central campaign promise of building a wall between the United States and Mexico, limiting the due process rights of asylum-seekers, broadening and expediting the detention of immigrants, and limiting rights of appeal. All three orders enhanced the deportation powers of key agencies within the dhs , including Immigration and Customs Enforcement (Ice ) and its key agency empowered with making arrests, Enforcement and Removal Operations (ero ), as well as Customs and Border Protection (cpB ). Arrests by the ero rocketed up over 40 per cent after these executive orders were issued.30 But the expanded arrests and deportations under the Trump administration were in fact part of a much broader expansion of the US border control–security–industrial complex that had been ongoing for several decades. The budget for securitizing the border has soared over the past several decades, and the number of agents has dramatically increased, creating what Staudt has referred to as a “extraordinarily more complicated and dangerous” border control bureaucracy, the effects of which “have spilled over into the entire country.”31 Evolving border policies of control and securitization under the Trump administration may not have deterred migrants from seeking

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refuge and asylum, but they did reinforce an idealized political community supposedly being made “great again” by administration policies. For all the public attention devoted to the southern border, the northern border has become a contested site in its own right, one where nativist, anti-immigration political effects play out. Leigh Barrick has documented how the expansion of US border patrol operations inland away from the international border with Canada in the Pacific Northwest resulted in the frequent questioning and detention of Latinos, non-timber forest workers, and people of colour in this predominantly white area. These actions generated a community backlash that eventually resulted in a decline in abusive practices.32 Increased efforts at border control by cBp and Ice are symptomatic of a broader disequilibrium in the current world order and the global rise in xenophobia, right-wing populism, economic protectionism, deepening inequality, and cross-border panic over mass migrations. In the last two years of the Trump administration, dislocation and disaggregation of border policies along the Canada– US border played out in several controversial ways: (1) through the discourse and contested policy pronouncements threatening an end to temporary protective status for migrants of certain countries; (2) through the increased visibility of the 100-mile internal checkpoint enforced by the cBp ; and (3) through more aggressive detentions and arrests of undocumented immigrants by the cBp and Ice .33 The levels of detention and harassment at the northern US border may not have compared with those experienced by racialized individuals at the southern border, but they replicated many of the techniques, technologies, and practices that were first developed at the border with Mexico.

r eBo r d e rIn g n o rth amer I ca d u rI n g c o vI d-19 On 21 March 2020, in response to the spreading coronavirus, Canada, the United States, and Mexico took unprecedented and separate bilateral actions to place restrictions on all “non-essential” travel across their shared land borders, while allowing the continued movement of commercial goods. This new bordering response continued the practice since 9/11 of differently labelling North American borders as security threats; this time, though, the identified

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threat to the territorial homelands was a virus, rather than terrorism or immigration. The decision to close the borders to all but essential traffic served important symbolic and political purposes. The Trump administration, which had already labelled Covid-19 the “China virus,” hoped that the border closure would assign blame elsewhere for the origins and spread of the virus, as well as garner public support by displaying purportedly forceful efforts to halt the virus’s spread. For the Liberal government of Justin Trudeau, the border closure signalled to the Canadian public the government’s engagement with combating the virus. These measures also served the government’s political interests by highlighting meaningful and consequential political and cultural differences between Canada and the United States. The decision to close Canada’s border to all but essential travel expanded smart bordering practices adopted in the post9/11 era to filter, sort, and exclude certain goods and people. The closure and subsequent monthly extensions dovetailed with the dramatic decline in Canadian public opinion of the United States during the Trump administration. As the virus surged in the United States, where infection and death rates were much higher than in Canada, Canadian support for the border closure soared.34 De- and re-bordering practices were also reflected in the emergence of new boundaries and borders as states and provinces implemented lockdowns and quarantines to fight the spread of the virus. On 20 March 2020, Canada’s federal government placed a restriction on non-essential travel between Canada and the United States.35 Only people who provided essential services – for example, truck drivers, who regularly crossed the border to maintain the flow of goods – were exempt from the quarantine requirements. By January 2022, both countries had implemented similar mandates prohibiting unvaccinated truckers from crossing into either country. Asylum-seekers who attempted to make a claim between the official ports of entry on the Canada–US land border (in an attempt to exploit the “loophole” in the stca) were sent back to the United States, as a “temporary measure.” In the United States, an initial bordering response to the emerging pandemic was to place a ban on people who had been in China on or before 31 January 2020. This was eventually expanded to a prohibition on non-essential travel, including tourism, from most

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countries. However, there were mixed messages from immigration enforcement. Ice initially said it would continue normal operations; then, as the pandemic accelerated, it announced that its operations would be guided by a public health perspective and that it would be ending random searches, arrests, and detentions. Ken Cuccinelli, second in command at dhs , then undercut this stance, tweeting that Ice should be able to continue normal operations in addition to enforcing public health and safety policies. At the same time, the Trump administration issued a ban on asylum-seekers, hoping to prevent cBp from being overwhelmed by people entering the country who might be carrying the virus. Responses to the coronavirus in both countries effectively overlapped with responses to the perceived threat of undocumented immigrants and terrorists, and some of the same mechanisms adopted in previous periods persisted under this new rationale, with the Biden administration relying on Centers for Disease Control restrictions on the US–Mexico border. The Canada–US and US–Mexico borders were reopened to non-essential traffic by late November 2021, but public opinion and political pressures continued to shape and sustain rebordering practices. The Americans’ delay in opening their border to Canadians at land ports puzzled many and infuriated local US politicians and business people. Canada had lifted the prohibition on travellers from the United States on 9 August 2021, albeit US citizens and legal residents were required to be fully vaccinated and test negative for Covid-19 within three days of attempted entry into Canada. With no explanation, the Biden administration delayed the opening of the US border for a full three months to 8 November 2021; the optics of the Biden administration purportedly responding more effectively than the prior Trump administration to contain the pandemic likely played a role in this delay. However, restrictions on non-essential travel continued to affect those seeking to cross from Mexico into the United States to claim asylum, and this undercut earlier campaign messaging by the Biden administration that had sought to draw a stark contrast between its purportedly more humane approach to immigration and asylum policy and that of its predecessor. The Trump administration had enacted two health codes to stop the spread of Covid-19 in March 2020. The Biden administration, despite widespread criticism from human rights activists and

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immigration lawyers, continued to enforce one of those codes, Title 42, to expel asylum-seeking migrants arriving at the border.36 Meanwhile, on 21 November, the Canadian government lifted its ban on asylum-seekers crossing from the United States; by early January 2022, several thousand migrants had crossed irregularly at Roxham Road into Canada to pursue refugee status. Thus, the easing of cross-border Covid-19 restrictions served to restart an unofficial debordering process, as the so-called stca “loophole” facilitated, anew, the irregular trekking of migrants from the United States to Canada, despite the political transition from Trump to the Biden administration.

c o n c l u sI on The Canada-US border has been transformed dramatically since the 9/11 attacks, partly as a result of a series of “shocks”37 that have undermined the earlier trope that depicted it as the “longest undefended border in the world.” The Mexican–US border was less affected post-9/11, as argued by Athanasios Hristoulas in his chapter. The US response to the 9/11 attacks resulted in a rebordering process that disrupted the relatively orderly and predictable movement of people across the Canada–US border. These changes were embedded in broader de- and re-bordering processes within the broader North American region. Over time, the rationale for restricting the mobility of migrants and refugee and asylum claimants in the region has evolved, from the earlier US concern with Mexican migrants, to a fear of terrorists taking advantage of what US critics viewed as lax immigration and refugee policies in Canada, back to the stoking of anti-Latino fears and the consequent wall-building by the Trump administration. The Covid-19 pandemic represents the latest in a series of policies that have thickened both US land borders. There have also been processes of debordering, ranging from the Smart Border Accords to the actions of asylum claimants at Roxham Road at the New York– Quebec border, who continue trying to evade the bordering effects of the stca . Efforts at rebordering, launched post-9/11, have accumulated and overlapped over time. The clash between the desire of states to secure their borders, and the rights of individuals to cross those borders, is ongoing.

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no t e s

1 2 3

4

5

6

7

8 9

10 11

12

We thank the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada for its financial support. We also thank Hannah Beltran and Micayla O’Connor for their research assistance. Evelyn Mayer, Narrating North American Borderlands: Thomas King, Howard F. Mother, and Jim Lynch (Berlin: Peter Lang, 2014). David Newman, “On Borders and Power: A Theoretical Framework,” Journal of Borderlands Studies 18, no. 1 (2003): 13–25. David Newman and Anssi Paasi, “Fences and Neighbours in the Postmodern World: Boundary Narratives in Political Geography,” Progress in Human Geography 2, no. 2 (2003): 186–207. Lawrence Herzog and Christophe Sohn, “The Co-Mingling of Bordering Dynamics in the San Diego–Tijuana Cross-Border Metropolis,” liser Working Paper Series, no. 2016-01 (2016): 14. Silvia Marcu, “Learning Mobility Challenging Borders: Cross-Border Experiences of European Immigrants in Spain,” Mobilities 11, no. 3 (2014): 343–61. Vladimir Kolosov and James W. Scott, “Selected Conceptual Issues in Border Studies,” Working Paper 4 eu Border Scapes (October 2013): 1–20. Mathias Albert and Lothar Brock, “De-Bordering the World of States: New Spaces in International Relations,” in Civilizing World Politics, ed. Mathias Albert, Lothar Brock, and Klaus D. Wolf (Lanham: Roman and Littlefield, 2000), 9–43. Robert Miles, Racism (London: Routledge, 1989), 75. Jason Ackleson, “Constructing Security on the US–Mexico Border,” Political Geography 24 (2005): 165–84; Joseph Nevins, Operation Gatekeeper: The Rise of the “Illegal Alien” and the Making of the US–Mexico Boundary (London: Routledge, 2002). Peter Andreas, “The Mexicanization of the US–Canada border,” International Journal 60, no. 2 (Spring 2005): 449–62. Gerardo Otero, “Neoliberal Globalization, nafta , and Migration: Mexico’s Loss of Food and Labor Sovereignty,” Journal of Poverty 15, no. 4 (2011): 384–402. Peter Andreas, “A Tale of Two Borders: The US–Canada and US–Mexico Lines after 9–11,” in The Rebordering of North America, ed. Peter Andreas and Thomas J. Biersteker (New York: Routledge, 2003), 1–23; Daniel Drache, Borders Matter: Homeland Security and the Search for North America (Halifax: Fernwood, 2004).

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13 Andreas, “Mexicanization of the US–Canada Border,” 449–62. For other uses of the term “Mexicanization,” see Özgün E. Topak, Clara Bracken-Roche, Alana Saulnier, and David Lyon, “From Smart Borders to Perimeter Security: The Expansion of Digital Surveillance at the Canadian Borders,” Geopolitics 20, no. 4 (2015): 880–99; Joel J. Sokolsky and Philippe Lagassé, “Suspenders and a Belt: Perimeter and Border Security in Canada–US Relations,” Canadian Foreign Policy Journal 12, no. 3 (2006): 15–29; and Bruno Dupeyron, “‘Secondary Foreign Policy’ through the Prism of Cross-Border Governance in the US–Canada Pacific Northwest Border Region,” Regional and Federal Studies 27, no. 3 (2017): 321–40. 14 The scare about the northern border was partly fuelled by the isolated case of Ahmed Ressam and is discussed in Shannon Nash’s chapter. The length of the Canada–US border and the 425 crossing points (some of which were closed at night, as US politicians pointed out in alarm) convinced Americans that that border represented a risk. 15 Andreas, “Mexicanization,” 449–50. 16 Ibid., 449–62. 17 Emily Gilbert, “Borders and Security in North America,” in North America in Question: Regional Integration in an Era of Economic Turbulence, ed. Jeffrey Ayres and Laura Macdonald (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2012), 203. 18 Joshua D. Freilich, Matthew R. Opesso, and Graeme R. Newman, “Immigration, Security, and Civil Liberties Post 9/11: A Comparison of American, Australian, and Canadian Legislative and Policy Changes,” in Migration, Culture Conflict, Crime, and Terrorism, ed. Joshua D. Freilich and Rob T. Guerette (England: Ashgate, 2006), 52–3. 19 Freilich et al., “Immigration, Security, and Civil Liberties,” 52–3. 20 Howard Adelman, “Canadian Borders and Immigration Post 9/11,” International Migration Review 36, no. 1 (Spring 2022): 15–28 at 20. 21 Isidro Morales, “The Governance of Mobility and Risk in a Post-nafta Rebordered North America,” in National Solutions to Trans-Border Problems? The Governance of Security and Risk in a Post-nafta North America, ed. Isidro Morales (Farnham: Ashgate, 2008), 65–94. 22 William Walters, “Border/Control,” European Journal of Social Theory 9, no. 2 (2006): 187–203. 23 The official name of the Act was An Act to amend the Criminal Code, the Official Secrets Act, the Canada Evidence Act, the Proceeds of Crime (Money Laundering) and other Acts, and to enact measures respecting the registration of charities in order to combat terrorism; Adelman, “Canadian Borders,” 17.

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24 Ibid., 22–3. 25 Stephen Clarkson, “Two Views from the Attic: Toward a Gated Continental Community,” in Peter Andreas and Thomas J. Biersteker, The Rebordering of North America: Integration and Exclusion in a New Security Context (New York: Routledge, 2003), 80. 26 Canadian Society of Customs Brokers, “Customs Invests in a Smart and Secure Border,” 11 September 2003, https://cscb.ca/article/customs-investssmart-and-secure-border. 27 US Department of State, US–Canada Smart Border/30 Point Action Plan Update (Washington, dc : White House, 2002). 28 Ron Alalouff, “Powerful Video and Radar Surveillance Helps Protect United States’ Northern Border,” ifsec Global, 10 March 2021, https:// www.ifsecglobal.com/video-surveillance/powerful-video-and-radarsurveillance-helps-protect-united-states-northern-border; Shaun Robinson, “How Has Border Security Changed in Vermont Since 9/11?,” vtd igger 10 September 2021, https://vtdigger.org/2021/09/10/how-has-bordersecurity-changed-in-vermont-since-9-11. 29 Dara Lind, “What Obama did with migrant families vs. what Trump is doing,” Vox, 21 June 2018, https://www.vox.com/2018/6/21/17488458/ obama-immigration-policy-family-separation-border. 30 US Immigration and Customs Enforcement, “Fiscal Year 2018 Ice Enforcement and Removal Operations Report” (Washington, dc : Department of Homeland Security, 2021). 31 Kathleen Staudt, Border Politics in a Global Era: Comparative Perspectives (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 2018), 67. 32 Leigh Barrick, “‘Possible Criminal Activity Afoot’: The Politics of Race and Boundary-Making in the United States Pacific Northwest Borderland,” acme : An International Journal for Critical Geographies 14, no. 3 (2014): 899–927. 33 Arvind Dilawar, “Border Patrol Arrests, Targeting of Immigrant Activists Rises Dramatically in Vermont,” 24 April 2018, https:// shadowproof.com/2018/04/24/border-patrol-arrests-targetingimmigrant-activists-rises-dramatically-vermont; Elizabeth Hewitt, “Border Patrol Checks Bus Passengers’ Citizenship in Burlington,” VTDigger, 9 May 2018, https://vtdigger.org/2018/05/09/border-patrolchecks-bus-passengers-citizenship-burlington. 34 Sophia Harris, “Why many Canadians support the Canada–US border closure, despite the costs,” cbc News, 15 September 2020. 35 Catherine Tunney and Katie Simpson, “US border temporarily closing to

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non-essential traffic to slow covId -19,” cbc News, 18 March 2020, https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/canada-us-border-deal-1.5501289. 36 American Immigration Council, “A Guide to Title 42 Expulsions at the Border,” 15 October 2021, https://www.americanimmigrationcouncil.org/ research/guide-title-42-expulsions-border. 37 Geoffrey Hale, “Canada’s Shifting Borders: An Overview of Market and Human Movements,” in Canada’s Fluid Borders: Trade, Investment, Travel, Migration, ed. Geoffrey Hale and Greg Anderson (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 2021), 20–44.

8 Into the Unknown: Trade and Security Twenty Years after 9/11 Geoffrey Hale

The events of 9/11 initiated an era of instability and change regarding Canada’s major economic and security relationships within and beyond North America. Twenty-plus years later, the canus relationship remains by far the most important of Canada’s foreign policy, security, and international economic relationships, underpinned by geographic proximity and the breadth and depth of cross-border interdependence. Yet 9/11-related security shocks, while significant to bilateral economic and security relations in the subsequent decade, have been less significant to the evolution of these relations than subsequent political and economic shocks. Most notably, the cascading effects of increased Chinese competition, growing US– Mexican economic integration, and changing patterns of energy production and distribution have fundamentally challenged many of the assumptions shaping North American integration (see the chapter by Budning and Hampson). Twenty-plus years after 9/11, Canada’s capacity for policy choice within North America increasingly depends on its capacity to engage diplomatic and economic contexts beyond North America, defined as including Canada, the United States, and Mexico.1 Successive political and economic shocks since 9/11 have undercut many of the assumptions guiding policy-makers in Canada, the United States, and other major industrial countries.2 Canada’s integration with North American and global markets has largely stagnated since the mid-2000s. For several major Canadian industries, domestic contestation of major US trade and environmental

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policies had undermined access to US markets under successive US administrations since 2013. Technological competition among major powers, and especially between the United States and China, has prompted new concerns over economic and national security. Great-power tensions have reinforced geopolitical competition and the increasing “weaponization” of economic networks.”3 These trends, reinforced by widespread unilateralism in national responses to the Covid-19 pandemic, suggest that structural changes are emerging in the global economic environment, potentially including a technological decoupling of the United States and China,4 with overlapping zones of influence. These changes, driven by mutually reinforcing economic and strategic insecurities among the major powers as after 9/11, have continued under President Joe Biden. This chapter examines the evolution of the legacy of 9/11 at three levels: (1) the evolving economic integration of North America, (2) the variable integration of Canada’s security and trade policies within North America, and (3) the disruption of the broader international trading system and its implications for Canadian trade policy. Dual bilateralism – the management of most North American relationships through bilateral dyads between national governments – remains central to cross-border relationships in North America. Canada–Mexico relations remain largely peripheral in most sectors, existing in the shadow of each country’s deeper engagement with its dominant neighbour.

c a n a d a ’ s e c o n omI c place I n n o r t h a m e rIc a : 2001 vs 2021 The Effects of External Policies of Major Economic Partners Canada’s economic history has frequently been shaped by major shifts in the external policies of its major economic partners, whether related to trade, investment, or their overlap with defence and security relationships.5 Unilateral British or US policy changes have often forced significant changes to Canadian fiscal and trade policies, whether systemic or sectoral. Shifting emphases in trade policies under the George W. Bush, Obama, Trump, and Biden administrations are ongoing reminders of Canada’s need to be agile

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amid the competition between larger states (or economic alliances) to shape the international economic system. Canada’s progressive economic integration into North American markets after 1989 (when the cusfta came into force) buffered its difficult economic and fiscal restructuring in the 1990s, when nafta was negotiated and signed. Integration also increased Canada’s vulnerability to growing US security concerns and domestic political disruptions after the terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001 and the 2008–09 financial crisis. Canada’s trade remains among the world’s most geographically concentrated, as measured by the Herfindahl– Hirschman Index (hhI ).6 Following modest diversification after 9/11, Canada became marginally more dependent on the United States for its export markets in the post-2009 decade.7 Its two largest export sectors, energy and automotive products, valued at 34.8 per cent of total exports in 2019, remain dependent on US markets for more than 90 per cent of their foreign and total sales.8 Both sectors were impacted disproportionately – 30.5 per cent and 26.9 per cent of sector exports (energy and automotive products respectively) – by trade disruptions initially occasioned by the Covid pandemic.9 This relative dependence strongly shaped Canada’s approaches to nafta’s renegotiation in 2017–19. The evolution of cross-border and North American economic networks since 2000 has varied widely across industry sectors and subsectors, reflecting varying mixes of North American and global economic trends. Table 8.1 summarizes trends in Canada’s relative trade and export intensity between 2000 and 2019. Overall exports (and trade) as a share of gdp declined between 2000 and 2008, partly in response to changing terms of trade (a rising Canada–US exchange rate; rapid growth in energy prices), and partly due to growing Mexican value-added in North American automotive and other supply chains as certain production processes shifted southward. Following sharp declines in absolute levels of goods (but not services) traded during the 2009 recession, merchandise trade grew slowly. However, Canada’s financial services sector has become increasingly integrated into North American markets; also, some major firms are diversifying into European and Asian markets. Three major external factors have helped alter Canada’s place in North American markets since 9/11: rising competition from China and, more narrowly, from Mexico; growing US energy independence; and growing public resistance to the globalization

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Table 8.1 | Canadian exports and total trade: 2000–19 (selected years) measured in % of gdp % of gdp

2000

2008

2014

2019

Total exports

44.2

34.4

31.7

32.8

Goods

38.2

29.5

26.6

26.8

Services

5.4

4.9

5.1

6.0

Total imports

38.6

32.6

32.6

34.5

Goods

32.8

26.8

26.3

27.6

Services

5.8

5.8

6.3

6.9

Sources: Statistics Canada Tables 36-10-0222-01, 36-10-0104-01.

policies of both major US political parties. The political and security dimensions of 9/11 have been rivalled by the slow-release impact of an economic 9/11: China’s entry to the wto on 11 December 2001. Relevant domestic factors include rising costs in many sectors, political barriers (or relative indifference) to regulatory adaptation, and, in some sectors, slow adaptation to exchange rate shifts. The massive post-2001 surge of Chinese exports to the United States displaced Canada as the latter’s largest source of imports by 2007 and of overall merchandise trade in 2015–1910 (see table 8.2). These trends, strongly reinforced by ongoing technological innovation, displaced enough US manufacturing employment – 5.6 million jobs in 2000–10 – to reinforce a growing public backlash against trade liberalization.11 Autor and colleagues12 have noted that negative economic shocks and greater trade exposure have contributed substantially to US congressional polarization on the political right and left. US goods trade deficits with China averaged 19.3 per cent of gdp between 2010 and 2018; US tariff retaliation depressed Chinese imports in 2019. These developments, which have undermined support for those political leaders in both major parties who are relatively favourable to trade liberalization, helped elect Donald Trump in 2016 and have brought about a partisan convergence in many areas of trade policy.

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Table 8.2 | US merchandise trade with Canada, China, and Mexico as % of gdp gdp

canada

Average

Exports

2015–19

14.5

2010–14

Imports

chIna

mexIco

Balance

Exports

Imports

Balance

Exports

Imports

Balance

15.3

-0.9

6.0

24.8

-18.9

12.5

16.3

-3.7

17.7

19.7

-2.0

6.8

25.9

-19.1

12.8

16.6

-3.8

2004–08

16.4

21.0

-4.6

4.2

21.0

-16.9

9.5

13.8

-4.3

1999– 2003

17.3

20.6

-3.3

1.4

8.5

-7.1

9.0

11.4

-2.4

1994–99

16.4

18.7

-2.3

1.4

6.9

-5.5

7.5

9.5

-1.9

Sources: US Census Bureau; author’s calculations.

Border Security Concerns Post-9/11 concerns over border security also reinforced political tensions in the United States over irregular migration, particularly from Mexico, and subsequently over shifts in manufacturing employment to that country (see also the chapter by Macdonald and Ayres). US goals in negotiating nafta originally combined the promotion of increased US and North American competitiveness by facilitating Mexico’s economic modernization and integration into North America on the one hand, and stabilizing market reforms to reduce the attractions of political radicalism that had disrupted other Latin American countries during the 1980s.13 However, Mexico’s difficult and prolonged adjustment to nafta destabilized many (especially rural) communities.14 About 10 million Mexicans migrated to the United States between 1994 and 2013, about 30 per cent through formal channels, the rest as “undocumented” migrants.15 Irregular migration flows across the Mexico–US border reached 500,000 annually by the mid-2000s, triggering widespread calls for stronger US border enforcement before the 2008–9 financial crisis and recession reversed these trends, resulting in “net zero migration” after 2008.

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The rapid growth of foreign direct investment (fdI ) in Mexico in the 2000s contributed to the steady growth of Mexican exports to the United States, as noted in table 8.2. Although growing supply chain integration enhanced the competitiveness of many firms based in the United States (and Canada), these flows reinforced trends toward the geographic redistribution of manufacturing employment within North America, particularly in the automotive and durable goods manufacturing sectors. As a result, “North American policies” became synonymous with US–Mexico relations for many Americans, especially after 9/11. This generated strong political headwinds against further integration, despite sizable US content in Mexican exports. These trends reinforced the Harper government’s inclination to pursue bilateral negotiations over border issues, security, and regulatory cooperation with the Obama administration, rather than the trilateral approach that the Bush administration had favoured. The result, noted in Anderson’s chapter, has been a reversion to “dual bilateralism” within North America except on specific issues, when US protectionist measures (most recently the Biden administration’s proposed subsidies for electric car production) have forced the convergence of Canadian and Mexican interests in self-defence.16 US Oil and Gas Production A third major factor that helped slow pre-9/11 trends toward North American integration was the rapid growth of US oil and gas production, which substantially reduced US dependence on Canadian natural gas (post-2006) and oil (post-2010). Technological innovation, especially hydraulic fracturing (“fracking”) and horizontal drilling, greatly increased US domestic oil and gas production and notably reduced production costs. Shifting ideological dynamics within the Democratic Party resulted in growing US opposition to imports from Canada. The failure of the Democratic-controlled Congress to pass cap-and-trade legislation to limit greenhouse gas emissions17 led many activist groups to challenge the development of new pipelines from Canada; their hope was to slow the growth of fossil fuel consumption and externalize the costs of climate change mitigation. As a result, the energy policies of nafta ’s first two decades became less complementary than before. After 2012, Canadian governments began to realize that developing export pipelines to Canadian tidewater had become a condition simply for maintaining, never

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mind increasing, access to US markets. Although American regulators have approved several significant domestic pipeline expansions, systematic litigation in both countries (sometimes combined with serious tactical mistakes and/or operational failures by pipeline operators and Canadian governments) has slowed regulatory approvals on both cross-border and domestic Canadian pipelines to a glacial pace.18 For example, Michigan’s threat to shut down Enbridge Line 5, which crosses Lake Michigan en route to Sarnia, Ontario, has created major risks to energy security for Ontario and Quebec. This led the Justin Trudeau government to invoke the 1977 bilateral Pipeline Transit Treaty in 2021.19 In the United States, these broader political and economic shifts have undermined public support for North American integration far more than the legacy of 9/11. But those shifts have been balanced to some extent by the evolving efforts of both governments to integrate trade, travel, and security policies, at least in the upper half of North America. The next section of this chapter focuses on these processes as ongoing consequences of 9/11.

t r a d e , t r a v e l , a nd s ecurI ty wI t h I n n o r t h amerI ca The legacy of 9/11 for cross-border trade and travel has taken different trajectories in Canada and the United States. Post 9/11, US insecurities encouraged cooperation by successive Canadian governments as a means to limit border thickening and maintain US market access. This strategy, shaped mainly by micro-regulatory and related economic initiatives, led to successive, mainly “dual bilateral” initiatives under the Smart Border Accord of 2001, the Security and Prosperity Partnership (spp , 2006–9), and the Beyond the Border (BtB ) initiatives of the Obama years. Its persistence, despite broader Trump-era disruptions, was reflected in limited disruptions to cross-border trade during the 2020–22 global pandemic, despite the closing of canus land borders to non-essential travel. Canadian officials’ first priority after 9/11 was to engage with their US counterparts to safeguard cross-border supply chains for key industries through an extensive network of “trusted trader,” “trusted traveller,” and information-sharing initiatives as outlined in the bilateral Smart Border Accord of December 2001. (The Bush

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administration subsequently negotiated similar arrangements with Mexico – see Athanasios Hristoulas’s chapter.) These measures focused initially on sectors with dedicated trucking networks, so as to expedite cross-border trade shipments by firms that had implemented extensive security controls, as well as on “container security” measures for shipping containers from outside North America.20 However, congestion and the unpredictability of cross-border traffic flows resulted in considerable border thickening, especially for smaller firms (see Budning and Hampson’s chapter).21 Former US Ambassador to Canada Paul Cellucci noted that “security trump(ed) trade” in the years after 9/11.22 The US “one border” policy moved screening processes on its Canadian border much closer to the rigid standards set for the US–Mexico border; Macdonald and Ayres in their chapter refer to this as the Mexicanization of the border.23 Efforts to engineer closer coordination through the nominally trilateral spp process of 2006–9 largely ran aground over conflicting national bureaucratic mandates and priorities.24 The bilateral BtB initiative has reported modest successes since 2011, including an expanded pre-clearance agreement (signed in 2015, ratified in 2019). However, the latter has been largely ineffectual in facilitating freight pre-clearance beyond periodic pilot projects. This is due to persistent differences in national legal norms and bureaucratic priorities. Traveller security measures took different forms along land, air, and marine borders. US passports or other “secure identification” became mandatory for cross-border air travellers in 2007 and for land travellers by 2009, with very different effects on “northbound” and “southbound” travel (see table 8.3).25 Rising Canada–US exchange rates and passport possession rates prompted growing cross-border travel by Canadians after 2005, with modest declines after 2013. However, cross-border travel by Americans declined sharply after 9/11, partly due to lower passport possession rates; for air travel, it recovered significantly only after 2013.26 After 2015, the two governments gradually implemented “entry/ exit” information-sharing processes, which had been pursued intermittently by Washington since the mid-1990s, to facilitate the two countries’ respective visa compliance processes. This also enabled the tracking of the “residence” of cross-border business travellers, truckers, and “snowbird” vacationers for tax purposes. These

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Table 8.3 | Volumes of travellers entering Canada by major mode of transport (year 2000 = 100) year

Mode of transport and passengers 2000

2005

2010

2015

2018

land Auto Canadians

100

88.0

109.5

99.8

92.4

Auto Americans

100

67.8

42.4

42.1

46.4

Other Foreign*

100

71.7

78.3

97.8

176.7

aIr Canadians from US

100

94.8

127.3

146.0

183.3

Canadians from other

100

138.0

193.1

256.3

273.7

Americans

100

98.0

84.0

104.9

129.1

Other foreigners

100

100.8

97.3

120.1

154.4

*all land travel modes Source: Geoffrey Hale, “Canada’s shifting borders,” in Canada’s Fluid Borders: Trade, Investment, Travel, Migration, ed. Geoffrey Hale and Greg Anderson (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 2021), 23.

developments suggest that bilateral border management cooperation is largely contingent on similar political and bureaucratic priorities in each country. The BtB initiative made less of a long-term impact than was hoped for. Budning and Hampson come to a similar conclusion in their chapter in this book.

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t r a d e , s e c u rI t y , a n d the evolut Ion o f t h e In t e r n a tI o n a l trad Ing system Intensified great-power competition and the rise of China have fundamentally changed the international context for Canadian trade policies and North American integration since 9/11. Before 9/11, North American integration complemented broader US efforts to reinforce and project its interests within the international economic system. After 9/11, US cooperation with Mexico and Canada was largely contingent on their accommodation of broader American economic and security priorities, especially int terms of securing international supply chains and travel flows. Since 2010, both countries have worked around fluctuating US approaches to the AsiaPacific region, especially China. The pre-9/11 decade saw significant changes to the international trading system, rapid growth in international trade, and the consolidation of three major trading regions: North America, the EU, and an AsiaPacific region initially centred on Japan as the region’s largest economy until 2010.27 The events of 9/11 partly reframed the politics of trade as the US (and other states) sought to integrate macro- and micro-security issues, with trade measures as tools for building alliances and projecting power. This was reflected in several trade deals negotiated by the Bush administration with smaller strategic and regional allies. The efforts of the US, the EU, and Japan to project their interests and shape “the rules of the road”28 through bilateral and regional trade negotiations during this period have been described variously as “competitive liberalization”29 and “competitive regionalism.”30 Medium-sized economies, such as Canada’s (after 2006), Australia’s, and Mexico’s, anticipated these negotiating strategies, forging parallel networks of trade agreements, reflecting Katada and Solis’s “emulation hypothesis.”31 In Canada, the Harper government viewed trade diversification as a hedge against growing US protectionist pressures, not least against efforts by powerful US domestic interests to landlock Canada’s energy exports. Canada successfully negotiated a trade agreement with the eu in 2009–17 and remained part of Trans-Pacific Partnership (tpp ) negotiations (2012–18), after the Trump administration withdrew from them in 2017.32 Initial US involvement sought to create an economic counterweight to growing Chinese power in East Asia while securing agreement with Japan on several outstanding trade issues.33

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However, after the 2014 Congressional elections, President Obama failed to win sufficient congressional support to ratify the tpp . President Trump’s withdrawal from the tpp signalled a fundamental division between the US and other North American governments regarding attitudes toward the international trading system. The subsequent Indo-Pacific Economic Framework, belatedly introduced by the Biden administration in 2022 to promote greater regional economic cooperation, appears to be little more than an aspirational gesture compared to the tpp . The Trudeau government has sought to expand Canadian trade in Asia since 2015 but has been hampered by a short attention span, competing priorities (including nafta renegotiations), and a persistent misalignment of interests and priorities between Canada and prospective Asian negotiating partners. Delays in Canada’s initiation of free trade negotiations with the Association of Southeast Asian Nations or asean bloc until 2021 reflect some of these cross-cutting factors. North American economic relations survived the Trump administration (2017–21) despite the latter’s “weaponization” of uncertainty,34 systematic efforts to disrupt the international trading system through unilateral actions, and growing conflicts with a Chinese government that has become increasingly assertive in projecting its international economic ambitions. Trump’s unexpected election win reflected profound American societal divisions over stagnant living standards and the unequal distribution of economic benefits and social status as a result of globalization discussed in several chapters, especially Wilfrid Greaves’s. The Trump administration challenged several core elements of North American integration: it tightened immigration policies substantially, forced the renegotiation of nafta , and used the national security provisions of US trade law (Section 232) to launch trade wars against several countries (including Canada and Mexico).35 Tax reforms in 2017 forced the repatriation of capital held abroad by US multinationals and penalized intellectual property income reported by foreign subsidiaries.36 Also, changes to US trade and investment laws tightened export controls over numerous technologies and products on national security grounds, building on previous International Trade in Arms regulations (Itar ).37 Trump also challenged major elements of the international trading system, using US trade remedy laws and unilateral tariffs to force

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trade concessions from South Korea, China, and Japan in separately managed trade agreements. It effectively neutered the wto’s dispute resolution mechanism (dsm) by blocking nominations of new appellate judges as their predecessors’ terms expired,38 measures largely maintained by the Biden administration. The Trump administration’s responses to growing Chinese economic influence and pursuit of global technological leadership were more erratic; eventually, though, they focused on systematic restrictions on technology sales and transfers to major Chinese firms as well as on efforts to persuade allies, including Canada, to ban Huawei from their next generation (5g ) wireless telecommunications systems.39 As one side effect of this campaign, Canada in 2018 arrested Huawei executive Meng Wenzhou after the United States issued an extradition warrant for her in December of that year. Her arrest resulted in strong retaliation by the Chinese government against Canada, which has chilled bilateral relations, even after the September 2021 release of Canadian hostages Michael Kovrig and Michael Spavor following a plea bargain agreement between Meng and the US Department of Justice.40 Canada’s Trudeau government finally introduced legislation to ban Huawei and other Chinese-supplied components from its 5g telecom systems in 2022, reinforcing prior business decisions by major domestic telecom firms, following actions to do the same by the other “Five Eyes” security partners (US, UK, Australia, and New Zealand). The negotiation and ultimate congressional ratification of cusma in 2017–20 reflected a carefully crafted strategy by US administration officials that effectively entrenched populist-nationalist discourse on trade and investment issues across much of the American political spectrum. Trade Representative Robert Lighthizer made successive efforts to exploit strategic differences between Canada and Mexico – not least by tightening automotive rules of origin to force higher valued-added quotas and exploiting Mexico’s 2018 presidential transition to pursue a separate bilateral deal. An interim trilateral agreement in September 2018 enabled Canada to meet most of its key objectives, especially the preservation of nafta ’s dispute resolution system. Republican losses in the 2018 congressional election led to partial cusma renegotiation with House Democrats, resulting in selective accommodation of Canadian concerns. The final product was a mix of protectionist measures – thickening borders for automotive products and other

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measures projecting US global priorities from previous tpp negotiations. The Biden administration elected in 2020 extended many of Trump’s protectionist measures, while taking a more conventional approach to projecting US interests.

In t o t h e u n k nown: n ort h a m e rIc a n In t e g r a tIon I n the 2020s The events of 9/11 initiated an era of instability and challenge to Canada’s major economic and security relationships through repeated political and economic shocks. Those shocks have intensified these interactions in some sectors and weakened them in others. Canadians and Mexicans have generally adapted to US border screening requirements. However, the gradual emergence of a “North American perimeter” to screen travellers entering their ports and airports in transit to the United States has not “thinned” their borders with the United States. The Biden administration’s strong endorsement of expanded “Buy American” restrictions on US government procurement, and the prospect that those restrictions will be extended to the emerging electric automotive sector, are likely to thicken borders further,41 even while more conventional approaches are taken to dealings with North American neighbours. Despite these shocks, key elements of the relationship have endured. The United States remains Canada’s largest trade and investment partner, although two-way American trade with Mexico has exceeded that with Canada since 2019.42 Total stocks of Canadian direct investment in the United States have exceeded US fdI in Canada since 2015,43 reflecting extensive integration of major sectors. Institutionalized cooperation in border management generally preserved key crossborder supply chains and movements of essential workers during the Covid pandemic, despite the unprecedented restrictions on nonessential travel for seventeen months in Canada, twenty months in the United States. (The difference was widely attributed to the US “one border” policy noted earlier and to broader US domestic political concerns over the Mexican border.) Cooperation among security and intelligence professionals remains close despite efforts by Canadian governments to maintain political discretion in selected areas. However, US domestic political disputes are likely to persist, so on many issues, there will be few opportunities to pursue shared North American approaches. As suggested by the late Stephen Clarkson

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(see Anderson’s chapter in this book), the global character of major issues facing the international system, combined with the weakness of shared North American institutions and sensitivities over policy discretion (“sovereignty”) in all three countries, has resulted in North America becoming “too big for the small issues and too small for the big issues.”44 These realities suggest that changes in policy relations will remain incremental, sectorally segmented, and subject to significant national discretion – just as in the post-9/11 evolution of security and trade policies. not e s 1 Geoffrey Hale, “Capacity and Conditions for Choice: Managing Canada’s International Policy Relations in an Unstable World,” Canadian Foreign Policy Journal 26, no. 3 (September 2020): 276–97. 2 Geoffrey Hale and Greg Anderson, “Canada at the Crossroads: Canada’s International Policy Relations in an Era of Political and Economic Uncertainties,” in Navigating a Changing World: Canada’s International Policies in an Age of Uncertainties, ed. Geoffrey Hale and Greg Anderson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2021), 3–14. 3 Michael Lind, “The Return of Geo-Economics,” National Interest, 13 October 2019; Henry Farrell and Abraham L. Newman, “Weaponized Interdependence: How Global Economic Networks Shape State Coercion,” International Security 44, no. 1 (Summer 2019): 42–79. 4 Anne Hoecker, Shu Li, and Jue Wang, “US and China: The Decoupling Accelerates,” in Technology Report: 2020: Taming the Flux, ed. David Crawford and Dana Aulanier (San Francisco: Bain and Co., 14 October 2020), 52–9. 5 Geoffrey Hale, Uneasy Partnership: The Politics of Business and Government in Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2018), 64–108. 6 Colin Scarffe, “Canada’s Need to Diversify Stronger than Ever” (Ottawa: Global Affairs Canada, Office of the Chief Economist, 24 January 2019); Global Affairs Canada, Canada’s State of Trade: 2019: 20th Edition (Ottawa: Office of the Chief Economist, 2019), 97, https://www. international.gc.ca/gac-amc/assets/pdfs/publications/State-of-Trade2019_eng.pdf. 7 Global Affairs Canada, Canada’s State of Trade: 2020 (Ottawa: July 2020); 16, 19. https://www.international.gc.ca/gac-amc/assets/pdfs/ publications/State-of-Trade-2020_eng.pdf.

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8 Global Affairs Canada, Canada’s State of Trade: 2019, 13. 9 Statistics Canada, “Measuring exposure and disruptions caused by the covId-19 pandemic to global value chains: An analysis based on imported specified intermediate goods in Canada” (21 July 2022), https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/pub/13-605-x/2022001/ article/00003-eng.htm. 10 US Census Bureau, “Foreign Trade: Top Trading Partners,” Washington, dc, 2020, https://www.census.gov/foreign-trade/statistics/highlights/top/ index.html#2019. 11 David Autor, David Dorn, Gordon Hanson, and Kaveh Majlesi, “Importing Political Polarization? The Electoral Consequences of Rising Trade Exposure,” nber Working Paper 22637, 2016, rev. 2017, https:// www.nber.org/system/files/working_papers/w22637/w22637.pdf. Irwin has noted that “productivity improvements” largely driven by technological change accounted for about 85 per cent of manufacturing job losses between 2000 and 2010. Douglas A. Irwin, “The Truth about Trade: What Critics Get Wrong about the Global Economy,” Foreign Affairs 95, no. 4 (July–August 2016), 84–95. 12 Autor et al., “Importing Political Polarization?” 13 Frederick W. Meyer, Interpreting nafta : The Science and Art of Political Analysis (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998); Gary Hufbauer and Jeffrey J. Schott, nafta Revisited: Achievements and Challenges (Washington, dc : Institute for International Economics, 2005). 14 Sidney Weintraub, “nafta and Migration,” National Forum 94, no. 3 (Summer 1994): 29–32, https://anthkb.sitehost.iu.edu/a104/mexico/ naftaimmig.htm. 15 Monica Verea, “Immigration Trends after 20 Years of nafta ,” NortêAmerica 9, no. 2 (July–December 2014): 109–43. 16 Steven Chase, “Mexico, Canada share concern over US proposal on American-made electric cars,” Globe and Mail, 29 October 2021. 17 Geoffrey Hale, “Canada–US Relations in the Obama Era: Warming or Greening,” in How Ottawa Spends: 2010–2011, ed. G. Bruce Doern and Christopher Stoney (Montreal and Kingston: McGill–Queen’s University Press, 2010), 48–67. 18 Geoffrey Hale, “Cross-Border Energy Infrastructure and the Politics of Intermesticity,” in Canada among Nations: 2018 – Canada–US Relations: Sovereignty or Shared Institutions, ed. David Carment and Christopher Sands (Aldershot: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 163–92; Monica Gattinger, “Canadian Energy in North America and Beyond: Between a Rock and a Hard Place,” in Navigating a Changing World: Canada’s International

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Policies in an Age of Uncertainty, ed. Geoffrey Hale and Greg Anderson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2021), 399–429. Government of Canada, “Brief of Amicus Curiae: State of Michigan et al. v. Enbridge Energy Partnership lp et al,” U.S. District Court, Western District of Michigan, No. 1:20-cv-01142-jtn -rsk , 11 May 2021; https:// www.canada.ca/content/dam/nrcan-rncan/documents/GOC%20 Amicus%20-%20EN%20FINAL.pdf; Steven Chase, “Canada invokes 1977 treaty with U.S. in bid to halt Line 5 closing,” Globe and Mail, 5 October 2021, A1; Agreement between the Government Of Canada and the Government of the United States Of America Concerning Transit Pipelines, E101884 - cts 1977 No. 29. Geoffrey Hale and Christina Marcotte, “Border Security, Trade, and Travel Facilitation,” in Borders and Bridges: Canada’s Policy Relations in North America (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2010), 100–19. Hanna F. Maoh, Shakil A. Khan, and William P. Anderson, “Truck Movements across the Canada–US border: The Effects of 9/11 and Other Factors,” Journal of Transport Geography 53 (2016): 12–21. Paul Cellucci, Unquiet Diplomacy (Toronto: Key Porter, 2005), 131–46. Christopher Sands, “The Canada Gambit: Will It Revive North America?” (Washington, dc : Hudson Institute, March 2011), 5. Greg Anderson, Christopher Sands, and Alicia Gluszek, “The Security and Prosperity Partnership and the Pitfalls of North American Regionalism,” NortéAmerica 9, no. 1 (January–June 2014): 7–54. Geoffrey Hale, “Politics, People, and Passports: Contesting Security, Travel, and Trade on the US–Canadian Border,” Geopolitics 16, no. 1 (2011): 27–69. Geoffrey Hale, “Canada’s Shifting Borders,” in Canada’s Fluid Borders: Trade, Investment, Travel, Migration, ed. Geoffrey Hale and Greg Anderson (Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press, 2021), 22–3; Geoffrey Hale, “CrossBorder Movements and Governance: A Multi-Dimensional Shifting Landscape,” in Navigating a Changing World: Canada’s International Policy Relations in an Age of Uncertainties, ed. Geoffrey Hale and Greg Anderson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2021), 127–32. Hale, Uneasy Partnership, 220. Michael B. Froman, “The Strategic Logic of Trade: Remarks to Council of Foreign Relations,” New York, 26 June 2014. Jeffrey J. Schott, ed. Free Trade Agreements: US Strategies and Priorities (Washington, dc : Peterson Institute for International Economics, 2004). Mireya Solis, Barbara Stallings, and Saori N. Katada, eds, Competitive Regionalism: fta Diffusion in the Pacific Rim (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009).

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31 Saori N. Katada and Mireya Solis, eds, Cross-Regional Trade Agreements: Understanding Permeated Regionalism in East Asia (Berlin: Springer, 2008); Solis, Stallings, and Katada, Competitive Regionalism. 32 Geoffrey Hale, “Triangulating the National Interest: Getting to ‘Yes’ on the tpp ,” paper presented to Fulbright Canada–suny Plattsburgh Colloquium on Canada, the United States, and the Trans-Pacific Partnership, University of Hawai’i, Honolulu, 24 February 2017. 33 Mireya Solis, The Geopolitical Importance of the Trans-Pacific Partnership: At Stake, a Liberal Economic Order (Washington, dc : Brookings Institution, 13 March 2015). 34 Meredith Crowley and Dan Ciuriak, Weaponizing Uncertainty (Toronto: C.D. Howe Institute, 20 June 2018). 35 Congressional Research Service, “Section 232 Investigations: Overview and Issues for Congress,” crs Report # R-45249 (Washington, dc : Library of Congress, updated 24 August 2020). 36 Jack M. Mintz, “Global Implications of U.S. Tax Reform,” Ifo Schnelldienst 7, no. 2018 (12 April 2018): 22–35. 37 Farhad Jalinous et al., Congress Finalizes cfius and Export Control Legislation (Washington, dc : White and Case, 26 July 2018); Mathilde Bourgeon and Élisabeth Vallet, “International Trade in Arms Regulations and Quebec’s Aerospace Industry,” in Navigating a Changing World: Canada’s International Relations in an Age of Uncertainties, ed. Geoffrey Hale and Greg Anderson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2021), 462–3. 38 Chad P. Bown and Soumaya Keynes, Why Did Trump End the wto ’s Appellate Body? Tariffs (Washington, dc : Peterson Institute for International Economics, 4 March 2020). 39 Kiran Stacey, “US tightens restrictions on suppliers to Huawei,” Financial Times, 17 August 2020. 40 Robert Fife and Steven Chase, “Canadians Michael Kovrig, Michael Spavor coming home after U.S. strikes plea deal to free Meng Wanzhou,” Globe and Mail, 25 September 2021, A3. 41 James McCarten, “From autos to our stockpiles, we’re going to buy American,’” Financial Post, 17 November 2020, fp1 ; Chase, “Mexico, Canada share concern.” 42 US Census Bureau, “Foreign Trade: Top Trading Partners – December 2020,” Washington, dc , 2021, https://www.census.gov/foreign-trade/ statistics/highlights/top/top2012yr.html. 43 Statistics Canada, International investment position, Canadian direct investment abroad and foreign direct investment in Canada, by country, annual. Table 36-10-0008-01 (Ottawa: 4 September 2020).

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44 Stephen Clarkson, remarks to the conference of the Association for Canadian Studies in the United States (acsus ), San Diego, November 2009, ctd in Geoffrey Hale, So Near Yet So Far: The public and hidden worlds of Canada–U.S. Relations (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2012), 329.

9 Ties That Fray: 9/11 and Its Aftermath Kevin Budning and Fen Osler Hampson

There is a general consensus that the 9/11 attacks on the United States in 2001 fundamentally altered the trajectory of canus relations, but perhaps less agreement about its direct impact on specific aspects of the relationship. For example, the “thickening” of the Canada–US border (discussed in several of the chapters, especially those by Laura Macdonald and Jeffrey Ayres) was a common refrain in the aftermath of new customs, immigration, and security provisions that were introduced following the attacks. As American North Country Public Radio reporter and producer Julie Grant wrote in 2011, “the United States has spent billions of dollars beefing up its northern border since 9/11: Upgrading ports of entry, increasing surveillance and technology, [and] more than doubling the number of border officers. Now, everyone coming in from Canada needs a passport, or another official form of identification. Nowadays, homeland security can stop drivers even when they’re not crossing the border.”1 But did these new provisions ultimately impede the movement of citizens, cars and trucks across the border? Did trade flows diminish in a significant way? What was the impact of 9/11 more broadly on defence and security relations? And were the effects short-term or long-lasting? In this chapter, we attempt to answer some of these questions. We argue that the enhanced security and intelligence collaboration between Canada and the United States emerged as a response to the friction that had developed at the border following 9/11. This friction arose as a direct consequence of the security precautions, restrictions, and safeguards that had been introduced by the United States immediately after the attacks. Somewhat paradoxically, intensified

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cooperation between the two countries on issues such as customs, immigration and border management, intelligence-sharing, counterterrorism, and defence did not completely alleviate frictions in areas such a trade and cross-border traffic – at least not in the short to medium term. In accordance with Geoffrey Hale’s findings, we suggest that bilateral economic relations were impacted more significantly by Canada’s declining competitiveness vis-à-vis other US trading partners, namely China and Mexico, and by a rising tide of protectionism in US economic policy than by the events of 9/11 itself.

I n t e g r a tI o n theory One way to conceive of canus relations in the aftermath of 9/11 is through the analytical prism of integration theory, especially when it comes to understanding the link between policy interventions and their consequences at the borders of states. Integration processes encourage the reduction or elimination of both tariff and non-tariff barriers to trade, thus increasing welfare by reducing the costs of goods and services to consumers and producers alike. The productivity gains from integration, which also reduce transaction costs, are enhanced by the economies of scale that accrue to individual firms, for they can operate in a larger market. In economic integration theory, economic borders are defined as “any obstacle which limits the mobility of goods services and factors of production between countries.”2 Jan Tinbergen, in his seminal treatise on economic integration, drew an important distinction between “negative integration,” which involves the removal of direct barriers to trade such as tariffs, as well as “positive integration,” which involves the harmonization and coordination of existing policy instruments and regulations such as tax regimes, competition policy, and fiscal and monetary policy.3 More recent scholarship in this vein has stressed the importance of supranational law and legal regimes in eliminating restraints on trade and distortions in market competition, especially where there are national impediments to policy-making at the intergovernmental level. In the case of European integration processes, as Scharpf notes, “the main beneficiary of supranational European law has been negative integration,” where the “basic rules were already contained in the ‘primary law’ of the treaties of Rome. From this foundation, liberalization could be extended, without much political attention, through

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interventions of the European Commission against infringements of treaty obligations, and through the decisions and preliminary rulings of the European Court of Justice.”4 Traditional functionalist understandings about the basis of cooperation, which stress the importance of intergovernmental processes and the technical expertise that is brought to bear on problems (which Andrea Charron, Jim Fergusson, and Elizabeth St John argue in their chapter were key to the creation and evolution of norad ) have been challenged on the grounds that sovereignty concerns and institutional asymmetries may thwart integration processes, especially where “the need for consensus remains high for measures of positive integration.”5 Where do defence and security issues fit into theories of economic integration, especially in terms of their impact on “negative” and “positive” integration processes? On the one hand, it is generally accepted that security considerations were at the heart of the origins of the European Steel and Coal Community and the Treaty of Rome, the cornerstones of a new cooperative economic and political framework for postwar Europe. The two main architects of the plan, Robert Schuman and Jean Monnet, sought to avoid a return to pre–Second World War rivalries by firmly anchoring postwar Germany as a partner in Europe’s new institutions. As the European enterprise evolved, defence and security cooperation was a laggard in the integration process because of French and British resistance to relinquishing state sovereignty.6 However, according to some scholars, key “structural variables from the international system,” such as the tenor and strength of alliance relationships and the overall geostrategic environment, have served as both drivers of and impediments to greater levels of defence and security cooperation.7 In terms of the implications of these perspectives on integration processes for canus relations, external security threats and the political responses to them are viewed in the literature as important drivers of “positive integration” processes, though obviously other factors may also be relevant, including the role of political agency and institutional and normative considerations. The same applies to defence and security cooperation in an economic community after it has formed, though again the level and degree of cooperation is affected by other factors, including existing patterns of intergovernmental cooperation and concerns about diminishing sovereignty. According to Tinbergen, “positive” and “negative” integration run in the same direction and indeed are mutually reinforcing.

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However, lessons from post-9/11 North America show that this may not always be the case. This paradox raises a number of questions, such as these: How have integration processes been affected by sudden shocks or changes in the external security environment, and have they elicited greater levels of cooperation (“positive integration”) between neighbouring states where close economic ties already exist? And have efforts to promote security cooperation yielded positive or negative impacts on border transactions, especially when there is already a high degree of “negative integration” in commercial and economic relations? All of this will be explored in the following pages.

t h e p u s h t o p o sIt I ve Integrat I on With the coming into force of the cusfta (1989) and nafta (1994) agreements, which led to the removal of major tariff and non-tariff barriers to trade (what Tinberger called “negative integration”), the boon to the Canadian economy (and, to a lesser extent, the US economy) came quickly.8 In 1980, two-way bilateral trade in goods and services represented 40 per cent of Canadian gdp . By 2005, that figure had increased to 52 per cent and was valued at C$710 billion annually or nearly C$2 billion per day; that was the largest twoway exchange between two countries in the world. Two-way flows of fdI similarly reached new highs: in the early 1980s the value of annual two-way flows averaged under C$10 billion; by the middle of the first decade of the twenty-first century, they had reached C$480 billion. This trading relationship grew especially rapidly in the years following the coming into force of nafta .9 As Hampson has noted elsewhere, “by demonstrating convincingly that Canada could compete on a level playing field in North America, the cusfta had a psychological impact as well, redressing historical anxieties about identity, ability, and sovereignty. It helped make Canada more confident not just in managing relations with the United States but also in charting a more outward-turning and more determined space globally.”10 When it came to border management, “prior to September 11,” as Kathryn Friedman explains, “Canada and the United States collaborated on border issues broadly defined, organizing and acting on a functional basis pursuant to international agreements and treaties.”11 Under the 1995 Shared Border Accord, the two countries

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agreed “to develop a vision for the border that develops and preserves its open character while protecting the communities ... by offering their citizens new and innovative programs and services.”12 The initiative’s main priority was to promote international trade while “protect[ing] against drugs, smuggling, and the illegal and irregular movement of people; and reducing costs to both governments and the public.”13 At the same time, the two countries agreed to modernize and improve the existing infrastructure at the border in order “to facilitate legitimate travel, ensure security, improve compliance with the laws of both countries, and efficiently manage increasing volumes of trade and travel to reduce pressures on border resources and infrastructure.”14 We maintain that everything changed on 9/11. Within hours of the attacks, the White House took swift action to close the airspace and increase control at the border, imposing a Customs Level 1 Alert. As Michael Kergin, Canada’s Ambassador to the United States at the time, recalled some years later, this action was taken without informing Ottawa.15 Almost immediately, massive lineups of cars and trucks formed at border checkpoints, some of these being almost 20 kilometres long. Canadian officials were quick to reach out to senior US officials to ease the restrictions as Canadian automakers began to shut down their plants. Initially, the response was ad hoc; some vehicles were waived through while others were turned away.16 Clearly, more had to be done to ensure that the high volumes of cross-border trade would not be jeopardized as Americans tightened their border security at the Canadian and Mexican borders. To put matters in perspective, some 30,000 trucks were carrying goods across the canus border every day; that was in addition to millions of tons of freight carried by planes, railcars, ships, and pipelines. Furthermore, about 100,000 passenger vehicles were crossing the Canada–US border on a daily basis. With such a massive amount of traffic, to say nothing of the existing bureaucratic frameworks, reconciling the open trade regime with the major new security restrictions at the border post-9/11 posed a major dilemma. Within two months of 9/11, however, Ottawa and Washington signed the Smart Border Declaration, which, as the New York Times reported, committed “the two nations to cooperation on a range of border control and law enforcement measures intended to guard against terrorists while speeding the free flow of trade.”17 These

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initiatives included coordinating low-risk traveller visas, managing the movement of refugees, investing in technological solutions to reduce border congestion, and promoting greater interoperability between the intelligence communities and enforcement agencies on both sides of the border. The initiative led to far-reaching policy discussions based on four pillars: (1) collaborating on the identification of security risks, including reviewing cargo manifests, managing refugees, and coordinating visas while expediting low-risk travellers; (2) adopting compatible standards of practice to secure goods at production and distribution centres, thus minimizing backlogs at the border; (3) promoting joint investment in technological solutions to border congestion; and (4) promoting greater coordination between the intelligence communities and enforcement agencies on both sides of the border. Out of this declaration and subsequent discussions flowed a broader process of collaboration (what can be characterized as efforts to promote “positive integration” in border security management and trade). This began in 2005 with the announcement of the spp . The trilateral initiative included Mexico and was to be managed by a collection of issue-based working groups that would seek to bring about greater integration of standards and practices in a wide range of policy areas related to economics, security, industry, and even ecology. Among the more significant initiatives that were eventually introduced were “biometric identifiers” for travel documents and “data exchanges” on high-risk travellers.18 (The spp is also discussed by Athanasios Hristoulas and Geoffrey Hale in their respective chapters.) Notwithstanding their significance, the spp and most of these initiatives were not without issues (as discussed by Greg Anderson in his chapter), and the general enterprise was criticized for lacking a coherent vision or sense of direction. It was generally recognized that if Canada was to reap the full benefits of cross-border economic integration with the United States, it would have to reduce the impact of the border and speed up the pace of regulatory convergence between the two countries – that is, measures to promote “positive integration” (or debordering, as referenced by Macdonald and Ayres in their chapter). Coordinating the border administration was a huge hurdle. In the aftermath of 9/11, the border bristled with additional prohibitions, restrictions, and regulations. Canadian and US border officials were responsible for ensuring compliance with

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more than 400 statutory instruments covering health, safety, labelling, government procurement, trade remedies, taxes, environmental considerations, and so forth. There were also mounting problems with existing infrastructure to manage the flow of goods and services across the border, which had tripled in volume since the 1980s. Thus, at the 2007 North American Leaders’ Summit in Montebello, Canada, there was a push to address these deficiencies by developing a more comprehensive strategic framework around the spp , one that would include: (1) Enhancement of the Global Competitiveness of North America; (2) Safe Food and Products; (3) Sustainable Energy and the Environment; (4) Smart and Secure Borders; and (5) Emergency Management and Preparedness. In February 2008, ministers and secretaries from the United States, Canada, and Mexico met in Baja California, Mexico, to review the progress of the working groups over the previous year and to discuss cooperative approaches for meeting challenges and opportunities in the five spp priority areas. In April of the following year, the North American leaders again pledged to continue work in the five spp priority areas. When Barack Obama was elected president in 2008, there seemed to be a reversion from the trilateralism of the spp to a policy of “dual bilateralism,” reflecting the preferences of both Ottawa and Washington at the time. Obama’s enthusiasm for closer collaboration between Canada and the United States resulted in a reduction of post-9/11 frictions at the border and on trade, as well as the strengthening of policies pertaining to energy, the environment, and bilateral security collaboration. Following a long-standing convention of newly elected American presidents (with the notable exceptions of George W. Bush and Donald Trump), Obama made his first visit outside the United States to Canada in February 2009. However, early hopes about a closer and deeper partnership with the new administration, one that would reinvigorate efforts to eliminate inefficiencies at the border and chart a new cooperative path, soon dimmed. Part of the problem was that much of the responsibility for border management had already been turned over to the dhs, which was created in 2002 by the Bush administration. As one observer of these developments noted, “the department increasingly applies symmetrical approaches to both the US–Mexico and Canada–US borders. The uniformity of policy applied to very different borders, coupled with burying the North American agenda in a technocratic and law enforcement mentality, makes it difficult

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to push North America up the US list of priorities.”19 Another difficulty was that the Obama adminstration’s dhs Secretary, Janet Napolitano, came from Arizona and had little direct knowledge of or first-hand personal experience dealing with Canada. The much touted BtB initiative, which President Obama and Prime Minister Harper announced in 2011, aimed to reduce border and regulatory blockages and inefficiencies. Though it aimed high in terms of lofty principles, it ultimately delivered little, as outlined in Geoffrey Hale’s chapter. There were, of course, some positive elements of cooperation that emerged, such as increased “mutual assistance in law enforcement” and the “increased intensity of information and intelligence exchanges related to combating terrorism, money laundering, and people smuggling.”20 The easing of travel barriers through agreements such as nexus and fast was also accomplished, despite both being a by-product of the Smart Border Accord some ten years earlier. Generally speaking, however, there was little appetite to promote deeper cooperation, especially as the 2008–9 recession took its toll on the US economy and consumed the energies and attention of President Obama and his senior officials. In sum, the events of 9/11 undoubtedly strengthened intergovernmental cooperation at the bureaucratic and political levels. But despite earnest steps to attain “positive integration” – especially through a host of economic and security policy initiatives – the effort ultimately fell short as political interest and leadership waned, and as attention, especially in Washington, shifted to more pressing concerns.

9 / 1 1 – a s h o r t o r long ta I l? Somewhat paradoxically, despite the efforts of the two governments, at least initially, to achieve greater symmetry in their respective approaches to managing and regulating the border, the various policy initiatives and innovations essentially resulted in the opposite.21 In the years following 9/11, the number of goods and people flowing across the Canada–US border never returned to pre-“shock” levels, despite a near-parity exchange rate in 2011. In some respects, it can be argued that “negative integration” in trade and cross-border movements was compromised by policy interventions to promote greater “positive integration” in border security by both countries. As the cBc reported, despite all of the various innovations launched

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under the spp , “land traffic [across the border] never fully recovered from 9/11.”22 Indeed, the volume of passenger vehicles crossing into the United States was 25 per cent lower in 2019 than in pre-crisis 2001.23 In terms of canus trade more generally, the picture is somewhat mixed. A cursory review of trade statistics shows that bilateral trade dipped after 9/11 and then rose to its immediate pre-9/11 levels in the years that followed. There was a further dip in 2009–10 resulting from the 2008–9 financial crisis and ensuing recession in the United States. As Statistics Canada reported, “from 1990 to 2016, Canada’s total trade with the United States more than tripled.”24 However, “the most rapid growth occurred from 1992 to 1995, with exports to the United States increasing by 65.3% and imports rising by 56.2%.”25 In a detailed statistical analysis of canus trade following the introduction of new border restrictions after 9/11, economists Stephen Globerman and Paul Storer found that despite a few fluctuations, there were significant declines in trade between 2001 and 2002 – something that carried over into 2004 and eventually into 2008 with the global financial crisis. Having examined a series of trade indicators, including a regional analysis of trade flows, the authors concluded “that increases in border costs may have had significant impacts on trade” and “that the long-real living standards of both Canadians and Americans” were “adversely affected by post-9/11 border security developments.”26

o t h e r f a c t o r s a ffectIng cr o s s -B o r d e r t r a d e a nd pros perI ty Although efforts to “manage” the disruption caused by 9/11 and the ensuing securitization of the Canada–US border may not have helped eliminate frictions. A host of peripheral factors at play in the bilateral relationship have affected trade relations and the prosperity of Canadians. It is important to place 9/11 and its impact on cross-border flows in a broader economic and political context. As then Deputy Governor of the Bank of Canada, Tiff Macklem, explained: “Between 2000 and 2011, the labour cost of producing a unit of output in Canada compared with the United States, adjusted for the exchange rate, increased by 75 per cent ... Business sector labour productivity in Canada ... [over the same period grew] at an annual average rate of

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just 0.8 per cent ... compared with 2.3 per cent in the United States.”27 Canada was also losing market share to China, which by the end of the first decade of the twenty-first century had replaced Canada as the leading merchandise supplier to the United States and the second-largest supplier to the Canadian market.28 Meanwhile, US policies in sectors such as energy were becoming increasingly hostile to Canadian interests, which affected cross-border trade and investment. Energy accounts for almost one quarter of Canada’s trade with the United States and roughly 10 per cent of Canada’s gdp . The Obama administration’s decision not to issue a permit for the construction of the Keystone xl pipeline was a serious irritant in bilateral relations given Alberta’s financial investments and the number of jobs at stake (the US State Department estimated 42,000 in the United States alone). Because the pipeline would cross the US border, it required a presidential permit declaring that the project was in the national interest. Canadian heavy oil destined for US refineries would have replaced Venezuelan crude, thus complying with a fundamental principle of nafta guaranteeing the US security of supply in exchange for security of access to the US market for Canadian energy. President Obama ultimately denied a permit for the project in 2015, to the deep consternation of Western oil producers. The project was resuscitated by President Donald Trump days after his inauguration but failed to progress due to a variety of court challenges. And after taking office, President Biden again reversed US policy on the matter, issuing an executive order to block any future construction. This became a major roadblock to positive North American integration. It is not just in the energy sector that Canada was adversely affected. Despite shouldering a proportional share of the auto bailout to avoid the collapse of North American automobile manufacturers during the 2008–09 recession, Canada saw a diminished commitment from the Big Three (Chrysler, Ford, and General Motors) to maintain, let alone grow, automotive production in Canada. Notwithstanding generous r&d handouts from the federal and provincial governments, these firms spent a minimal 3 per cent of their r&d in Canadian plants.29 “Buy American” protectionist actions, introduced as part of Obama’s 2009 stimulus package to kick-start the US economy, hurt Canadian producers, as did labelling practices restricting shipments of Canadian beef, which reflected an American approach to trade that was increasingly protectionist. More recently,

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President Biden has pushed for a “Buy American” strategy to help the US economy rebound from the Covid-19 pandemic. As part of the Build Back Better Act, Biden proposed a host of protectionist measures, including a tax incentive for US-made electric vehicles. Canadian officials have warned that the provision runs counter to the newly signed cusma and that if passed, Canada will have no choice but to impose retaliatory measures.30 Under President Trump, the United States used its power to rectify what Trump and his key advisers contended was a serious trade imbalance with its North American partners. During the renegotiation of nafta , some elements of the tpp , which Trump had rejected, were brought into the cusma , which maintained a rules-based framework for continental trade. The final deal, dubbed nafta 0.8, was generally considered to be better than no deal because it maintained some measure of predictability in economic relations; however, the United States got the best out of its two smaller North American partners through its “divide and conquer” strategy. The United States made fewer concessions at the bargaining table than did Canada or Mexico. Canada conceded on dairy and on pharmaceutical patents, while Mexico conceded on autos. The only “concession” by the United States was a last-minute retreat from some of its more egregious demands, including its threat to abandon the dispute settlement provisions in the new agreement.31 Negotiation of the cusma also did little to curb Trump’s bullying tactics against Canadian (and Mexican) steel and aluminum; this ignored the importance of imports at favourable prices for US manufacturers of cars, aircraft, and ships.

a l o n g e r t aIl : a fghan Istan It can be said that 9/11 had lingering, if not lasting, effects on cross-border flows of people and goods. Canada’s defence policies were also significantly affected by 9/11. Canada’s involvement in Afghanistan began in late 2001 following President Bush’s call for help in routing Al Qaeda at a time when the Taliban government was giving them shelter. Initially, Canada was involved in a support role, mobilizing air and naval forces to the area. This was augmented in February 2002 with 750 Canadian Forces ground troops who were sent to Kabul. In 2003, Canada sent a second deployment of 2,000 Canadian soldiers to Kabul (see also Justin Massie’s chapter), partly to deflect Washington’s request for allies to send troops to Iraq.

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The Bush administration’s decision to launch a war against Saddam Hussein presented a dilemma for Prime Minister Jean Chrétien’s Liberal government. Chrétien was personally opposed to any Canadian involvement in a second Gulf War, and his officials were deeply skeptical of US intelligence reports that Saddam was intent on building weapons of mass destruction. They favoured a slower, more deliberate course that allowed time for UN inspectors to do their work. As the US and its “coalition of the willing” moved closer to war with Iraq in 2003, the Canadian government first expressed hesitation and then eventually declined, rather publicly, to participate in the mission. This caused friction between the US and Canadian governments, which was alleviated when Canada agreed to participate in the broader gwot as well as subsequent reconstruction efforts in Iraq. Canada’s early combat operations in Afghanistan and ratcheting up of that commitment were intended mainly to show solidarity with a neighbour that had been attacked at home and to ensure that relations with Canada’s most important trading partner remained secure so that Americans would not conclude that Canada had been derelict in its duty to confront the “axis of evil.” Pressure from Canada’s military leaders also played a role in building up that commitment.32 In 2005, Canadian forces were redeployed to Kandahar in southeastern Afghanistan, one of the more conflict-prone regions of the country. With this additional responsibility, Canada now increased its troop deployment to 2,500. In February 2005, Canada took over responsibility for the Provincial Reconstruction Team (prt ), and thus the bulk of all operations, in that province. It quickly became clear that Canada was ill-prepared; the decision had been taken without adequate analysis of the challenges it would pose.33 Prime Minister Harper, who inherited the mission in 2006, expressed his desire to continue the campaign even after it became apparent that it was floundering. Afghanistan’s National Security Forces were not prepared to take over from nato ’s Isaf . As the Taliban continued to gain in strength, the prime minister’s ardour for the mission cooled, as did the Canadian public’s support of it. Harper ultimately left a light training mission in place until 2014, when it was terminated. In all, 159 Canadian soldiers gave their lives in Afghanistan; 635 were wounded; another 1,412 were injured while on patrol or carrying out non-combat duties. A senior Canadian diplomat and seven civilians also gave their lives in Afghanistan.

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c o n c l u sIon It is often assumed that 9/11 brought Canada and the United States closer together. In many respects, this may be true: both countries have increased border protection, enhanced intelligence-sharing, and bolstered their respective security apparatuses. The 49th Parallel remains the longest “undefended” border in the world, notwithstanding enhanced security provisions introduced post-9/11,34 and the Canadian and US economies remain inextricably tied together. All of that said, the sheer size and “shock” of 9/11 generated frictions along the Canada–US border that are still felt today. Those frictions have emerged in the realms of travel, trade, energy, and even foreign policy. And they are likely here to stay. The simple fact is that a deep asymmetry exists between Canada and the United States. And, as Kim Richard Nossal and Stéphane Roussel argue in their chapter, there is a significant disjuncture between the world and Canadians’ conception of it. As the smaller, weaker, and more heavily reliant partner in virtually all sectors, Canadians have come to expect that their hands are tied when it comes to negotiations and policy – domestic and foreign alike. This reality – a phenomenon exacerbated by US protectionism and overdependence on Canada’s part – presents a timely question: how are we to reach “positive integration” in a post-pandemic environment in which there are no adverse repercussions for “negative integration?” That is a fraught question; however, the Biden presidency opens a window of opportunity. If possible, Canada should prioritize the following: · Re-examining and harmonizing relations when it comes to the Safe Third Country Agreement (stca ). Since 2016, Canada has turned away at least 4,400 asylum-seekers at the US border.35 The agreement, which has been criticized by refugee advocacy groups and border hawks alike, remains a serious point of disagreement in Canadian political circles, according to Macdonald and Ayres. To reach “positive integration” on this issue, the cBsa must work closely with its American counterparts in addressing some of the most glaring loopholes that persist (i.e., refugees who land in the US and then travel on foot to Canada). · Investing and enhancing our defence cooperation with the United States. As the global threat environment continues to change, Canada’s geography no longer serves a shield from hostile nations.

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Canada can further its “positive integration” with the United States on defence matters by investing heavily in norad modernization and reopening discussions about the Ballistic Missile Defence of North America (Bmd/na) proposal. Further integrating our militaries through tangible actions will make North America less vulnerable; it will also signal to the United States that Canada’s commitment to continental defence remains steadfast. As future shocks come and go, whether centred around politics, immigration, climate change, or a global pandemic, this chapter has shown that the more positively integrated our institutions, economies, and defence agencies remain, the less likely it is that our ties will fray. no t e s 1 Julie Grant, “US Canadian border changes since 9/11,” North County Public Radio News, 11 September 2011, https://www.northcountry publicradio.org/news/story/18372/20110909/u-s-canadian-border changes-since-9-11. 2 Andreas Kyriacou, “Economic Integration: Theory and Practice,” (Universitat de Girona): slide 2, http://www3.udg.edu/fcee/professors/ akyriacou/Economic%20Integration%20Theory.pdf. 3 Jan Tinbergen, International Economic Integration (Amsterdam: Elsevier, 1965). 4 Fritz W. Scharpf, “Community and Autonomy: Institutions, Policies, and Legitimacy in Multilevel Europe,” Community and Autonomy: Institutions, Policies, and Legitimacy in Multilevel Europe 68 (Berlin: Max Planck Institute for the Study of Societies, 2010), 91. 5 Ibid., 97. 6 Frédéric Mérand, European Defence Policy: Beyond the Nation State (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 1–27. 7 Tom Dyson and Theodore Konstadinides, European Defence Cooperation in eu Law and ir Theory (Houndsmill: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013), 113. 8 nafta was designed as a multisectoral agreement. Despite the selective and gradual elimination of non-tariff barriers in many sectors, in the aggregate, the agreement has played a major role in reducing cross-border frictions, for all three countries. 9 For more information about Canada’s relative trade and export intensity, see Geoffrey Hale’s chapter.

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10 Fen Osler Hampson, Master of Persuasion: Brian Mulroney’s Global Legacy (Toronto: Penguin/Random House, 2018), 14. 11 Kathryn Friedman, “The Border after 9/11 – Security Trumps All,” Policy Options, 1 February 2010, https://policyoptions.irpp.org/magazines/ after-copenhagen/the-border-after-911-security-trumps-all. The relevant treaties and agreements include the 1909 Boundary Waters Treaty, the Ogdensburg Announcement (1940 Press Release), the 1958 North American Air Defence Command (norad ) Agreement, and the 1995 Canada–US States Accord on Our Shared Border. 12 Ibid. 13 Ibid. 14 “Canada–United States Accord on Our Shared Border 1995,” https://www. airhighways.com/border.htm. Note that North American defence integration does not include Mexico. Although norad’s mandate was expanded in 2006 to include surveillance of maritime approaches, security integration between Canada and the United States remains deeply asymmetric. 15 Alexander Panetta, “How the shutdown after 9/11 paved the way for the new Canada–US border response to covId -19,” cbc News, 20 March 2020, https://www.cbc.ca/news/world/coronavirus-covid-19-bordercanada-united-states-trade-1.5503192. 16 For more details about the immediate security and economic consequences that ensued following the 9/11 attacks, see chapter 5. 17 Alison Mitchell, “A Nation Challenged: Border Security, Ridge, and Canadian Sign Antiterror ‘Action Plan,’” New York Times, 13 December 2001, https://www.nytimes.com/2001/12/13/world/nation-challengedborder-security-ridge-canadian-sign-antiterror-action-plan.html. 18 “Biometric identifiers” were actually born before the spp in an effort for the United States to harmonize international travel documents through the International Air Transport Association. Nonetheless, the US government proved to be slow-acting in bringing these measures to practice, especially compared to their Canadian counterparts. Note also that other cross-border measures on entry and exist, along with the mandatory use of passports, derived directly from subsequent legislation such as the 2004 Intelligence Reform and Terrorism Prevention Act (Irtpa ). 19 Greg Anderson, “The Fragmentation and Integration of North American Governance: Border Security and Economic Policy for the Obama Administration,” spp Briefing Papers 2, no. 4 (Calgary: School of Public Policy, University of Calgary, October 2009): 5. 20 Public Safety Canada, “Beyond the Border: A Shared Vision for Perimeter Security and Economic Competitiveness,” 14 February 2011, https://www. publicsafety.gc.ca/cnt/brdr-strtgs/bynd-th-brdr/index-en.aspx.

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21 One initiative that was not mentioned is the Regulatory Cooperation Council (rcc ). The rcc is essentially a forum for Canadian and US stakeholders to discuss and identify trans-national regulatory opportunities, limitations, and barriers. Despite its well-intended mandate, the rcc is generally viewed as relatively ineffective. 22 Panetta, “How the shutdown after 9/11 paved the way.” 23 Ibid. 24 Statistics Canada, “Canada’s merchandise trade with the US by state,” 19 June 2017, https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/pub/13-605-x/2017001/ article/14841-eng.htm. 25 Ibid. 26 Steven Globerman and Paul Storer, “The Effects of 9/11 on Canadian-US Trade: An Update through 2008,” Metropolitan Policy Program, Brookings Institution, Washington, dc , July 2009. 27 Quoted in Derek H. Burney and Fen Osler Hampson, Brave New Canada: Meeting the Challenge of a Changing World (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2014), 39. 28 Ibid., 42. 29 For more information about the impacts of the auto bailout on the Canadian automotive industry, and specifically within Ontario, see ScotiaBank’s 23 October 2018 Global Auto Report. 30 Michael Lee, “Explained: Why is Canada threatening tariffs over Biden’s proposed ev tax credit?,” https://www.ctvnews.ca/politics/explained-whyis-canada-threatening-tariffs-over-biden-s-proposed-ev-tax-credit-1. 5703736. 31 For more information, see chapter 5. 32 Geoffrey Hayes, “Canada in Afghanistan: Assessing the Numbers,” in Afghanistan: Transition under Threat, ed. Geoffrey Hayes and Mark Sedra (Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2008), 284. 33 Matthew Willis, “Canada in Regional Command South: Alliance Dynamics and National Imperatives” Whitehall Papers 77, no. 1 (2011): 49–67. 34 The securitization of the Canada–US border has increased dramatically over the past two decades (i.e., through drone surveillance and sensors); however, it remains largely unsupervised – especially in less travelled regions. 35 Kathleen Harris, “Canada has turned back 4,400 asylum seekers in 5 years,” cbc News, 24 November 2020, https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/ asylum-seekers-canada-us-trump-pandemic-1.5813211.

10 A Tale of Two Border Closures: How the 9/11 Experience Prepared Canada and the United States for the 2020 Pandemic Shutdown Meredith Lilly and Emily M. Walter

On 21 March 2020, land crossings between Canada and the United States were closed to all non-essential travel.1 The announcement was reminiscent of the last border closure between the two countries in the wake of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. The 2001 closure was a sudden and swiftly implemented decision, made unilaterally by a US administration in crisis. International airports were thrown into chaos as US-bound passengers found themselves stranded when US airspace was closed (see Charron, Fergusson, and St John’s chapter). Shipments of fresh produce spoiled in trucks at land crossings. Major automakers with integrated cross-border supply chains were forced to suspend operations while awaiting the arrival of new components from across the border. Although the canus border reopened a few days later, the introduction of new US security processes led to long delays and serious trade disruptions. It took years of dedicated effort and political commitment by both countries to restore safe and efficient trade. Even then, some aspects of the canus trade relationship never fully recovered.2 Nearly two decades later, the canus border closure of 2020 emerged from a totally different set of circumstances: the recognition that Covid-19 had begun to spread rapidly in North America. Officially, the decision was undertaken jointly by the two countries to reduce the spread of Covid-19. Foreign nationals in both countries were advised to return home, where they could access national

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health care if they became ill and which would reduce demand for consular services. Unofficially, mounting evidence suggests that the closure was initiated by the Canadian side in response to domestic pressure to stop Americans and returning Canadians from travelling north with the virus. As provincial premiers began closing their internal borders, they appealed to Prime Minister Justin Trudeau to do the same at the US border.3 Yet it is clear that even as officials from both countries devised a plan to close the border, Canadian officials were seeking to avoid replicating the US securitization policies that had damaged canus trade for more than a decade following 9/114 (see the chapters by Geoffrey Hale and Kevin Budning and Fen Hampson). This was especially important given that President Donald Trump had a penchant for punitive border policies.5 So, unlike the 2001 closure, which had been imposed unilaterally by the United States with no consideration for the trade consequences, the 2020 closure was devised jointly and positioned as a cooperative effort. From the outset, the 2020 plan prioritized the continuing free movement of goods and the ongoing ability of essential workers such as health care personnel to continue crossing the border for employment.6 Each of these elements reflected lessons that had been learned from the post-9/11 border-thickening experience (see Macdonald and Ayres’s chapter).7 This chapter reflects on the broad themes that were identified during that period and applies them to an analysis of the Covid-19 pandemic border closure policy that was launched in March 2020 and lasted for more than a year. We contend that many of the recommendations for improvement over the post-9/11 border closure insulated the bilateral trading relationship from greater economic damage during the Covid-19 pandemic. Specifically, careful development of the 2020 policy helped minimize disruptions to goods transiting canus land crossings. Also, anticipation by Canadian policy-makers that the Trump administration would repeat the post-9/11 securitization policy stance in 2020 enabled Canada to act quickly to arrange exemptions from aggressive US treatment toward other countries.8 Notwithstanding these successes, some aspects of bilateral trade suffered during the pandemic. In addition, despite the original effort to introduce a temporary policy, aspects of the border policy have endured, underscoring the importance of treading even more carefully in the future.

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Bo r d e r l e s s o n s f o r BI lateral trade f r o m t h e 9 / 1 1 lIterature A 2018 systematic review by Smith and colleagues summarizes the impacts of the 9/11 border closure on canus trade, highlighting lessons for border policy planning in the context of increasingly protectionist bilateral trade.9 First, Canadian firms were more negatively impacted by the 9/11 closure, as US businesses could more easily substitute domestic components if imports from Canada were delayed by border policies. This reality placed the onus on Canada to minimize border disruptions moving forward. Additionally, Canadian sectors with time-sensitive exports, such as agriculture and automotive, were highly vulnerable to economic loss and US substitution. The US and Canadian governments developed trusted traveller programs such as nexus and fast to expedite border clearance in response to 9/11 border inefficiencies; however, provinces like Ontario, which depend on cross-border supply chain integration, invested more heavily in border infrastructure than those in western Canada. Furthermore, small businesses were less equipped to navigate the additional regulatory burdens introduced by the United States after 9/11 and were more likely to abandon exporting entirely. Finally, the increased scrutiny facing Canadians at the border cut half of all same-day visits to the United States, especially for shopping and tourism. In the two decades following 9/11, much progress was made to facilitate cross-border trade and travel. In addition to the developments noted above, the BtB initiative (see the chapter by Budning and Hampson) was launched by President Barack Obama and Prime Minister Stephen Harper to focus officials on facilitating safer and better two-way trade. The initiative underscored the reality that it takes daily effort at many levels to maintain open trade with the United States.10

k e y e l e m e n t s o f the 2020 p a n d e mI c Bo r d e r clos ure Nearly twenty years after 9/11, policy-makers considered closing the border again to control the spread of Covid-19. This time, the crisis impacted all countries and aspects of society simultaneously, and many factors influenced Canada’s trade flows during this period.

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Even if the canus border had not closed during the pandemic, bilateral trade would still have been negatively affected by the economic shutdown and weaker US demand for Canadian goods.11 Figure 10.1 shows the magnitude of the drop in bilateral trade with the United States in the early months of the pandemic. Still, there were clearly elements of the 2020 border closure policy that helped insulate bilateral trade from worse outcomes, and these reflect lessons learned from the post-9/11 literature. The first lesson stemming from the post-9/11 experience relates to the bilateral nature of the closure, which did not occur until 21 March 2020. By then, Prime Minister Trudeau had already ordered Canadians to remain at home, to avoid all travel, and to return to Canada if they were abroad.12 The federal government was criticized for not closing international borders sooner and for exempting the United States from the international border closure policy once it was introduced on 16 March.13 The prime minister indicated that his hesitation was due to the trade relationship and extensive border cooperation: “We recognize that the level of

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integration of our two economies, and the coordination that we’ve had over the past while, puts the United States in a separate category from the rest of the world.”14 In fact, officials from both countries had already been working behind closed doors to prepare for, and execute, a joint border closure plan to ensure that Canadians would not be cut off from needed food and supplies.15 It appears that the 2020 joint border agreement came just in time to avoid aggressive US policy toward Canada and Mexico. Roughly one week after the policy was announced, a leaked document by the US dhs (which predated the border agreement of 21 March) indicated that the department was seeking authority to place 1,000 military troops at the Canadian border and more than 500 additional troops at the Mexican border to stop infected individuals from entering the United States.16 Though the US plan did not proceed, it created alarm and confusion in Canada.17 Early US signals framing the Covid-19 pandemic as a threat from abroad underscored the urgency of Canada’s joint approach.18 In the years following 9/11, US border policy had been dominated by security priorities and focused on keeping foreign threats away from the homeland.19 Twenty years later, indications that Trump was adopting a similar orientation to the pandemic undoubtedly contributed to Canada’s strategy of pursuing a joint border closure policy.20 That way, Canada might wield greater control over the measures adopted and ensure its exemption from more stringent unilateral policies crafted in Washington.21 The second lesson from the post-9/11 era reflected the strong awareness in 2020 of the importance of maintaining trade flows as the Covid-19 crisis broadened and evolved. From the outset, the border closure policy clearly stated that travel for trade and commercial purposes would continue. This reflected recognition of Canada’s reliance on trade with the United States: “All essential and business travel will continue unimpeded. Both governments recognize the importance of preserving vital supply chains between our two countries. These supply chains ensure that food, fuel, and life-saving medicines continue to reach people on both sides of the border.”22 The statement issued by the Prime Minister’s Office on 20 March 2020 defined “non-essential” travel as tourism and recreation. In other words, travel for employment and to facilitate trade could continue, but any type of travel that was not tourism or recreation could

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be deemed acceptable. Canada’s “negative list” approach reflected an understanding among officials that they would be unlikely to fully capture all forms of economic travel between Canada and the United States by defining a long list of acceptable categories. In contrast, US documents outlining the policy did define categories of “essential travel”: these included travel for “work and study, critical infrastructure support, economic services and supply chains, health, immediate medical care, and safety and security.”23 Canada’s negative-list tactic was more permissive; however, both approaches gave border officials significant discretion in terms of allowing travel for various purposes. Despite this early demonstration of flexibility, questions were eventually raised in both countries about the nature of essential travel. We address these later in the chapter. Nevertheless, when the policy was first introduced in 2020, the goal was to ensure that trade continued relatively uninterrupted, and early signs suggest that the policy was effective. Whereas Canadian goods exported to the United States dropped 9.1 per cent in March 2020, they declined more than 20 per cent to countries such as China, France, and Italy.24 Of course, those three countries were very negatively impacted by the pandemic at that time, and broader economic factors also impacted those trade flows. However, Global Affairs Canada (gac ) also noted that trade disruptions with other countries varied according to the form of transportation: goods travelling by air and sea were most affected, while goods travelling by road were less impacted.25 Since all Canadian imports and exports transported by road transit via the United States, this implies that the 2020 joint closure policy succeeded in minimizing disruptions. In addition, the dearth of media reports in 2020 about fresh produce rotting at the border suggests that border facilitation for commercial trucks had improved considerably since 2001. Still, some sectors reported delays in the delivery of goods, and supply chain disruptions continued in highly integrated sectors, such as automotive.26 The final essential element of the 2020 policy that reflects a lesson learned from 9/11 was the insertion of an automatic expiry clause. If the policy was not renewed every thirty days, it would automatically lapse and normal border flows would resume. The inclusion of this sunset clause served two purposes. First, it required Canadian and US officials to maintain close contact and cooperate on renewing the closure in response to ongoing events. Second, it ensured that the policy did not become de facto permanent due to

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negligence, systemic inertia, or unrelated political factors. Although there was no comparable sunsetting action in the post-9/11 period, the insertion of the expiry clause clearly reflected a deliberate effort by officials to ensure that the 2020 closure was regarded by both governments as exceptional, and that an open border should characterize the normal state of canus relations. Despite this aim, the border was closed for more than a year, and eventually, the monthly renewal became the “new normal.” While the election of President Joe Biden and the creation of a canus border reopening task force in early 2021 were thought to signal efforts to restore normal border relations,27 reopening plans faced tremendous challenges, which we return to in the conclusion.

dI v e r g e n c e s o f t h e 2020 approach f r o m t h e 9 / 1 1 per Iod Canada’s approach to the 2020 border closure reflects clear lessons learned about trade from the post-9/11 period. However, other experiences from that era represent a poor fit for replication in the pandemic context. First, early in the Covid-19 crisis, Canada had stronger public health measures in place, and many Canadians worried that Americans travelling north would spread the virus. The high infection rate in the United States, combined with the Trump administration’s poor management of the crisis, led most Canadians to support the 2020 closure on public health grounds.28 It also emboldened the Liberal government to express much stronger sovereignty concerns in framing the 2020 border closure domestically, as stated by Deputy Prime Minister Chrystia Freeland on 16 April 2020: “Decisions about Canada’s border are taken by Canadians. Full stop. And when it comes to easing border restrictions of all kinds, our government will only do that when it is appropriate and when it is not a risk to the health and safety of Canadians.”29 In this sense, the post9/11 emphasis on quickly restoring cross-border trade and travel was less relevant to the 2020 context, which instead underscored maintaining strong border measures and deterring travel.30 Despite a deliberate effort by officials to minimize trade disruptions, the 2020 policy still imposed negative consequences for trade with the United States. Much as in 2001, the impact fell disproportionately on small businesses and trade in services. Small businesses were hardest hit by the pandemic generally; 58,000 Canadian small businesses

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became inactive in 2020, with one in five at risk of permanent closure by 2021.31 The 2020 joint border closure only amplified those problems for trade-reliant businesses, echoing the post-9/11 experience. In March 2020, exports by small and medium enterprises (smes) dropped 10.7 per cent versus 8.3 per cent for large firms.32 Since 96 per cent of Canadian exporters are small businesses with fewer than 500 employees, this represented significant economic loss.33 Also, the ability to “pivot” by adapting to changing market conditions was a stronger determinant of business resilience during Covid-19 than post-9/11, and small businesses were less equipped to weather the storm. For example, the dramatic increase in online shopping during the pandemic benefited large multinational shipping firms at the expense of small, local businesses, which were less likely to have an online presence or export internationally.34 Small businesses that established online stores or shifted their supply lines to produce essential goods, such as masks and hand sanitizer for domestic markets, were more successful.35 To support exporting small businesses during the pandemic, the Canadian government announced measures to help them develop or expand their e-commerce platforms; it also subsidized fees for pandemic-related export regulations.36 However, some businesses viewed these supports as failing to address systemic challenges associated with the relationship between globalization and greater self-reliance in critical sectors of the economy.37 Services trade is another area that has been badly damaged by the 2020 border closure. While merchandise trade largely recovered after June 2020, and had grown beyond pre-pandemic levels by 2021,38 services trade continued to drag badly behind 2019 levels throughout the pandemic.39 This was in large part because hospitality and tourism represent major categories of services trade for Canada, and both were targeted by the 2020 border closure. canus air and business travel also experienced extreme declines.40 Consistent with the post-9/11 period, this meant that trade on the west coast was more negatively impacted than in eastern Canada, for bilateral trade in the Cascadia region reflects much higher levels of trade in services.41 Given that travel for shopping and recreation was the deliberate target of the 2020 joint border closure policy, it is obvious that these forms of trade in services would be most negatively impacted. Normally, the United States is Canada’s top source country for tourist visitors; in 2018, Americans made more than 24 million visits to Canada, with two thirds travelling by car, while Canadians made 44

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400,000 1,200,000 1,000,000 800,000 600,000 400,000 200,000

Figure 10.2 | US vehicle entries to Canada, 2016–21.

million trips to the United States in the same year, more than 75 per cent by car.42 The 2020 closure effectively halted most trips in both directions. Figure 10.2 presents Statistics Canada data on the volume of US passenger vehicle entries to Canada over the five years from 2016 to 2021.43 Prior to the pandemic border closure, a stable seasonal baseline of US vehicle travel to Canada had been clearly established. After the closure in March 2020, US vehicle entries dropped precipitously, by an average of 84 per cent for the rest of 2020 and by 79 per cent in the first half of 2021, relative to the same periods in 2019. Even when non-essential travel was permitted to resume in August 2021, US vehicle entries to Canada for the next three months remained on average 67 per cent lower than in the 2019 reference period. This reflects another lesson from the post-9/11 period: it took well over a decade to restore leisure travel following 9/11, and same-day visits by Canadians to the United States have never fully recovered.44 Since many Canadian communities depend on revenues from US and international travellers, sustained efforts to support the return of tourists to Canada are needed.45 Unfortunately, Canada’s border measures have most negatively impacted Americans with deep attachments to Canada: those living in border communities, those with family

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members separated by the border, and owners of Canadian property. In the years ahead, it will also be necessary to take active steps to restore these relationships with Canada’s closest friends.46 Finally, public health quarantine requirements for all forms of cross-border travel conflicted directly with the joint border agreement’s objective, which was to minimize trade disruptions. Rules were not coordinated; rather, they were determined unilaterally by each country, with variation at the state and provincial levels. For example, although the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recommended a series of protocols for returning travellers, the United States did not officially require Canadian travellers to quarantine upon arrival.47 However, Canada required most business travellers to self-isolate for fourteen days, including Canadians returning from the United States.48 Only truck drivers and select essential workers, such as health care personnel who crossed the border daily for employment, were exempt.49 Despite these measures, more than one million Canadians flew to the United States in 2020 after the border closure began,50 exploiting inconsistent rules across different forms of travel.51 After President Biden’s inauguration in 2021 and with the onset of more contagious Covid-19 variants, the two countries began requiring proof of a negative test prior to entry,52 and Canada began requiring incoming air travellers to quarantine in government-authorized hotels.53 This overall discrepancy between the countries’ health policies highlights their differing public priorities and values (see Wilfrid Greaves’s chapter). It also meant that bilateral business travel continued to suffer throughout the closure, with disproportionately negative impacts for Canadian competitiveness relative to the United States.

B e g g a r t h y n eI gh Bour: p a n d e mIc e x p o r t controls Other aspects of the 2020 border closure show a remarkable contrast to the post-9/11 period. Most striking in this regard has been government action to seize exports legally bound for other countries, such as medical supplies.54 In the post-9/11 period, US border policies were focused on detecting criminal activity and preventing illegal shipments, weapons, and terrorists from entering the United States, as discussed in several chapters in this book. The added focus in 2020 on stopping essential goods from leaving the United States was new, and violated the country’s international trade obligations.

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The fear that imports from the United States could be blocked was very threatening to Canadians, given that the United States is Canada’s top source country for medical supplies.55 The highest-profile example of an export ban impacting Canada was former President Trump’s invocation of the Defense Production Act on 2 April 2020. He authorized dhs officials to “use any and all authority” to appropriate n95 respirators produced by 3m Company for the use of Americans; this would have prevented millions of masks from being exported to Canada and other countries.56 After furious protests by 3m and affected countries,57 a second presidential order was issued the next day that took a softer stance, focusing on stopping scarce personal protective equipment (ppe) materials from being diverted overseas by “brokers.”58 A White House statement accompanying the 3 April 2020 order further clarified that “nothing in this order will interfere with the ability of ppe manufacturers to export when doing so is consistent with United States policy and in the national interest of the United States.”59 Later that week, the US Federal Register published a complex formula that would enable 3m to continue shipping a portion of its products to countries, such as Canada, that had long-standing commercial contracts in place.60 In the span of a week, Canadian officials had successfully resolved the situation by gaining exceptional relief from US policy. In this way, a trade dispute with potentially deadly consequences was avoided. Yet most Canadians remained unaware that Trump’s threat never materialized, and calls grew for greater self-reliance in medical supplies to avoid a similar outcome in the future. In the wake of the controversy, Ontario Premier Ford told reporters: “I can’t stress how disappointed I am with President Trump for making this decision ... I’m not going to rely on President Trump, I’m not going to rely on any prime minister or president or any other country ever again.”61 Four months later, the Ontario and federal governments announced a joint initiative with 3m to establish an n 95 production facility in Brockville, Ontario.62 By April 2021, the plant was operational; by December 2021, it had produced more than 55 million masks.63

c o n c l u sI on The pandemic closure of 2020–21 was the longest canus border closure in history. With Trump’s departure from office and a determination by President Biden to work with allies to manage the

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pandemic, some in the business and trade community hoped that the border would reopen early in 2021. However, Canada’s sixmonth vaccination lag relative to the United States, and December 2020 holiday travel by prominent Canadian politicians against public health guidance, meant that reopening efforts became mired in political controversy for the Trudeau government.64 Additionally, the ongoing spread of Covid-19 variants two years into the pandemic created further challenges to maintaining an open border in 2022.65 In the end, we conclude that the tourism and recreation sector and the services trade were largely sacrificed in the interests of public health and political expedience. Rising economic nationalism threatens to pose further cross-border trade issues, as the trend toward localizing supply chains for the manufacture of such products as ppe has led to inefficiencies, higher costs, and bilateral trade challenges for both countries. But setting aside the challenges outlined here, positive lessons from the 9/11 shock were evident in the 2020 border experience. Unlike the 9/11 border closure, the 2020 pandemic border policy largely succeeded at minimizing disruption to the flow of goods across the border: 9/11 had met with a swift, unilateral suspension of cross-border activity by the United States that damaged trade for both countries; by contrast, the Covid-19 response reflected coordination and conscious bilateral efforts to ensure that merchandise trade continued relatively unimpeded, as demonstrated by the early restoration of trade to pre-pandemic levels. Without Canada’s 2001 experience, the importance of prioritizing trade might not have been anticipated or appropriately planned for in 2020. A panicked and uncontrolled closure due to the pandemic could have added to the economic devastation, jeopardizing Canadians’ access to essential goods during the crisis. Canada’s joint approach to the border closure helped secure its exemption from harsher US policies toward other countries. Despite all this, the 2001 and 2020 closures serve to remind citizens in both countries of a shared lesson: when the border between Canada and the United States is closed, life is not normal. May we always remember that. The next section of the book (Part Three) focuses on security and society post-9/11.

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no t e s 1 Prime Minister’s Office, “Prime Minister Announces Temporary Border Agreement with the United States,” Prime Minister of Canada, 21 March 2020, https://pm.gc.ca/en/news/news-releases/2020/03/20/prime-ministerannounces-temporary-border-agreement-united-states. 2 Matthew J. Smith, Sayan Basu Ray, Aaron Raymond, Micah Sienna, and Meredith B. Lilly, “Long-Term Lessons on the Effects of Post-9/11 Border Thickening on Cross-Border Trade between Canada and the United States: A Systematic Review,” Transport Policy (April 2018): 198–207, https:// doi.org/10.1016/j.tranpol.2018.03.013. 3 Meredith Lilly, “Lilly: Canada–U.S. Border May Be Necessary but Will Bring Additional Economic Pain,” Ottawa Citizen, 19 March 2020, https://ottawacitizen.com/opinion/columnists/lilly-canada-u-s-borderclosure-may-be-necessary-but-will-bring-additional-economic-pain; David Staples, “The Road to Canada’s covId -19 Outbreak, Pt 3: Timeline of Federal Government Failure at Border to Slow the Virus,” Edmonton Journal, 3 April 2020, https://edmontonjournal.com/news/ national/the-road-to-canadas-covid-19-outbreak-pt-3-timeline-offederal-government-failure-at-border-to-slow-the-virus. 4 Geoffrey Hale, “Politics, People and Passports: Contesting Security, Travel, and Trade on the USCanadian Border,” Geopolitics 16, no. 1 (2011): 27–69, https://doi.org/10.1080/14650045.2010.493768. 5 Smith et al., Long-Term Lessons, 206. 6 Prime Minister’s Office, Announces Temporary Border Agreement. 7 Smith et al., Long-Term Lessons, 198–207. 8 Meredith Lilly, “Managing Relations under Trump Will Be about More Than Just nafta ,” Policy Magazine 23 (February 2017): 10–11. 9 Smith et al., Long-Term Lessons, 206. 10 Public Safety Canada, “Beyond the Border,” 21 December 2018, https:// www.publicsafety.gc.ca/cnt/brdr-strtgs/bynd-th-brdr/index-en.aspx; US Department of Commerce, “U.S. Canada Beyond the Border,” 2011, https://legacy.trade.gov/nacp/btb.asp. 11 edc , “Global Export Forecast – Autumn 2020,” 2020, https://www.edc. ca/en/guide/global-export-forecast.html. 12 Prime Minister’s Office, “Prime Minister Announces New Actions under Canada’s covId -19 Response,” Prime Minister of Canada, 16 March 2020, https://pm.gc.ca/en/news/news-releases/2020/03/16/prime-ministerannounces-new-actions-under-canadas-covid-19-response. 13 Staples, “The Road to Canada’s covId -19.”

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14 Ibid. 15 Lilly, “Border Closure May Be Necessary.” 16 Ken Klippenstein, “The Coronavirus Is Trump’s Latest Excuse to Militarize the Border,” The Nation, 26 March 2020, https:// www.thenation.com/article/politics/border-coronavirus-militaryimmigration. 17 Bruno Dupeyron, “Why Trump Tried to Use the Coronavirus Crisis to ‘Mexicanize’ the US–Canada Border,” The Conversation, 2 April 2020, http://theconversation.com/why-trump-tried-to-use-the-coronaviruscrisis-to-mexicanize-the-u-s-canada-border-135011. 18 Department of Homeland Security, “Homeland Threat Assessment October 2020,” 26 October 2020, https://www.dhs.gov/sites/default/files/ publications/2020_10_06_homeland-threat-assessment.pdf; Ileana I. Diaz and Alison Mountz, “Intensifying Fissures: Geopolitics, Nationalism, Militarism, and the US Response to the Novel Coronavirus,” Geopolitics (July 2020): 1–8, https://doi.org/10.1080/14650045.2020.1789804. 19 Hale, “Politics, People, and Passports”; Peter Andreas, “The Mexicanization of the US–Canada Border: Asymmetric Interdependence in a Changing Security Context,” International Journal 60, no. 2 (2005): 449–62, https://doi.org/10.1177/002070200506000214. 20 Smith et al., Long-Term Lessons, 206; Lilly, “Managing Relations under Trump,” 11. 21 Dupeyron, “Mexicanize’ the U.S.–Canada Border”; Andreas, “Mexicanization of the US–Canada Border.” 22 Prime Minister’s Office, “Announces Temporary Border Agreement.” 23 US State Department, “covId -19 Related Travel Restrictions across the US Borders with Canada,” US Embassy and Consulates in Canada, 18 September 2020, http://ca.usembassy.gov/travel-restrictions-fact-sheet. 24 Nancy Blanchet and Julia Sekkel, “covId -19 Intensifies Challenges for Canadian Exporters: Trade by Exporter Characteristics,” Global Affairs Canada, 19 June 2020, https://www.international.gc.ca/trade-commerce/ economist-economiste/analysis-analyse/challenges-covid-19-defis.aspx? lang=eng. 25 Global Affairs Canada, “State of Trade 2020,” 3 June 2020, https://www. international.gc.ca/gac-amc/publications/economist-economiste/state-oftrade-commerce-international-2020.aspx?lang=eng#20. 26 edc , “Global Export Forecast”; Global Affairs Canada, “State of Trade 2020.” 27 Stéphanie Fillion, “Task Force to Look at How to Reopen the Canada–US Border,” Forbes, 24 November 2020, https://www.forbes.com/sites/

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stephaniefillion/2020/11/24/task-force-to-look-at-how-to-reopen-thecanada-us-border. Sophia Harris, “Why Many Canadians Support the Canada–US Border Closure, Despite the Costs,” cbc News, 15 September 2020, https://www. cbc.ca/news/business/canada-u-s-border-closure-support-mayorstourism-trump-1.5722974. Global News, “Coronavirus outbreak: Decisions about Canada’s border will be made by Canadians ‘full stop,’” 16 April 2020, Video, 4:17, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7afop0IxFs. cBsa, “Coronavirus Disease (covId-19): Information for Canadian Citizens, persons registered as Indians under the Indian Act and permanent residents,” 2020, https://www.cbsa-asfc.gc.ca/services/covid/ canadians-canadiens-eng.html#s2; cBsa , “Coronavirus Disease (covId -19): Information for Non-Canadians,” 2020, https://www. cbsa-asfc.gc.ca/services/covid/non-canadians-canadiens-eng.html#s1. cfIB, “181,000 Canadian Small Business Owners Now Contemplating Pulling the Plug, Putting 2.4 Million Jobs at Risk,” 21 January 2021, https://www.cfib-fcei.ca/en/media/news-releases/181000-canadian-smallbusiness-owners-now-contemplating-pulling-plug-putting-24. Blanchet and Sekkel, “covId -19 Intensifies Challenges.” Ibid. cfIB, “Pandemic Threatens to Deepen Divide between Big and Small Businesses,” 21 October 21, https://www.cfib-fcei.ca/en/media/newsreleases/pandemic-threatens-deepen-divide-between-big-and-smallbusinesses. Yvette Brend, “Distillers Scrambled to Make Hand Sanitizer for Free. Then the Federal Government Moved On,” cbc News, 8 December 2020, https://www.cbc.ca/news/business/distillers-hand-sanitizerpandemic-1.5813509; “How These Toronto Small Businesses Pivoted during the Pandemic,” HuffPost Canada, 11 September 2020, https:// www.huffingtonpost.ca/entry/how-these-toronto-small-businesses-pivotedduring-the-pandemic_ca_5f903c70c5b686eaaa0d2569. Global Affairs Canada, “Minister Ng Announces New Measures to Help Canadian Small Businesses Access Global Markets amid covId -19,” 3 November 2020, https://www.canada.ca/en/global-affairs/news/2020/11/ minister-ng-announces-new-measures-to-help-canadian-small-businessesaccess-global-markets-amid-covid-19.html. Parliament of Canada, “House of Commons Debates: Edited Hansard No. 048,” 11 December 2020, https://www.ourcommons.ca/documentviewer/en/ house/latest/hansard; Brend, “Distillers Scrambled to Make Hand Sanitizer.”

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38 Statistics Canada, “Table 12-10-0011-01 International Merchandise Trade for All Countries and by Principal Trading Partners, Monthly (x 1,000,000)” (2022), https://doi.org/10.25318/1210001101-eng. https:// www150.statcan.gc.ca/t1/tbl1/en/tv.action?pid=1210001101. 39 edc , “Global Economic Outlook: The Fork in the Road,” 29 September 2021, https://www.edc.ca/en/guide/global-economic-outlook.html; Statistics Canada, “Table 12-10-0011-01 International Merchandise. 40 Laurie Trautman, “The covId -19 Border Restrictions and Cascadia,” Western Washington University, 2020, https://cpb-us-e1.wpmucdn.com/ wp.wwu.edu/dist/0/2226/files/2020/09/Puget-Sound-Econ-Forecaster-_ Trautman-002.pdf; edc , “Global Export Forecast.” 41 Trautman, “covId -19 Border Restrictions and Cascadia.” 42 Statistics Canada, “Travel between Canada and Other Countries, December 2018,” The Daily, 21 February 2019, https://www150.statcan. gc.ca/t1/tbl1/en/tv.action?pid=2410000201. 43 Statistics Canada, “Table 24-10-0002-01 Number of Vehicles Travelling between Canada and the United States” (2021), https://doi.org/10.25318/ 2410000201-eng. https://www150.statcan.gc.ca/t1/tbl1/en/tv.action?pid= 2410000201. 44 Smith et al., Long-Term Lessons, 205. 45 Trautman, “covId -19 Border Restrictions and Cascadia.” 46 Edward Alden, “The Human Cost of Endless Pandemic Border Closures,” Foreign Policy, 26 February 2021, https://foreignpolicy.com/2021/02/26/ covid-19-pandemic-border-closures-travel-restrictions-human-cost; Trautman, “covId -19 Border Restrictions and Cascadia.” 47 cdc , “Coronavirus Disease 2019 (covId -19),” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 11 February 2020, https://www.cdc.gov/ coronavirus/2019-ncov/travelers/faqs.html. 48 cBsa , “Information for Canadians”; cBsa , “Information for Non-Canadians.” 49 Public Safety Canada, “Guidance on Essential Services and Functions in Canada during the covId -19 Pandemic,” 2020, https://www. publicsafety.gc.ca/cnt/ntnl-scrt/crtcl-nfrstrctr/esf-sfe-en.aspx; Prime Minister’s Office, “Announces Temporary Border Agreement.” 50 Sophia Harris, “There have been more than 7 million entries into Canada since covId -19 began. cBsa explains why,” cbc News, 17 December 2020, https://www.cbc.ca/news/business/canada-u-s-border-travel-covid-191.5843872. 51 Paula Newton, “Canada Wworking with the US to close travel ‘loophole,’” ctv News, 23 January 2021, https://www.ctvnews.ca/health/

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coronavirus/canada-working-with-the-u-s-to-close-travel-loophole1.5279406. The White House, “Executive Order on Promoting covId -19 Safety in Domestic and International Travel,” 21 January 2021, https://www. whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2021/01/21/ executive-order-promoting-covid-19-safety-in-domestic-and-international-travel; Government of Canada, “Orders In Council – pc Number: 2021-0075,” 14 February 2021, https://orders-in-council. canada.ca/attachment.php?attach=40252&lang=en; Paula Newton, “Canada Working with the US.” Global Affairs Canada, “covId -19: Travel, Quarantine, and Borders,” 17 December 2020, https://travel.gc.ca/travel-covid. Simon J. Evenett, “Flawed Prescription: Export Curbs on Medical Goods Won’t Tackle Shortages,” in covid -19 and Trade Policy: Why Turning Inward Won’t Work, ed. Richard Baldwin and Simon Evenett (London: cepr Press,2020),49–61,https://voxeu.org/content/covid-19-and-trade-policywhy-turning-inward-won-t-work. Industry Canada, “Canadian Imports (naIcs 33911 – Medical Equipment and Supplies Manufacturing),” Form, 22 January 2019, https://www.ic.gc.ca/app/scr/tdst/tdo/crtr.html;jsessionid=0001E-LG8ICLa ahimAMPlkoNo1U:368HJEO15C?lang=eng&hSelectedCodes= 33911&searchType=BL&productType=NAICS¤cy=CDN&runReport=true&grouped=GROUPED&toFromCountry=CDN& naArea=9999&timePeriod=CustomYears&reportType=TI&countryList=TOP&customYears=2019. The White House, “Memorandum on Order under the Defense Production Act Regarding 3m Company,” 2 April 2020, https://www. whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/memorandum-order-defenseproduction-act-regarding-3m-company. Daniel Leblanc and Adrian Morrow, “Trump gives fema power to restrict trade of essential goods into Canada despite warning from Trudeau,” Globe and Mail, 3 April 2020, https://www.theglobeandmail. com/canada/article-trudeau-warns-us-over-restricting-the-trade-ofessential-goods-into. The White House, “Memorandum on Allocating Certain Scarce or Threatened Health and Medical Resources to Domestic Use,” 3 April 2020, https://www.whitehouse.gov/presidential-actions/memorandumallocating-certain-scarce-threatened-health-medical-resourcesdomestic-use.

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59 The White House, “Statement from the President Regarding the Defense Production Act,” 3 April 2020, https://www.whitehouse.gov/ briefings-statements/statement-president-regarding-defense-productionact-3. 60 Federal Register, “Prioritization and Allocation of Certain Scarce or Threatened Health and Medical Resources for Domestic Use,” Federal Register, 10 April 2020, https://www.federalregister.gov/ documents/2020/04/10/2020-07659/prioritization-and-allocationof-certain-scarce-or-threatened-health-and-medical-resources-for. 61 Leblanc and Morrow, “Trump Gives fema Power.” 62 David Cochrane and Vassy Kapelos, “3m to make critical n 95 masks at Brockville, Ont., plant,” cbc News, 20 August 2020, https://www.cbc.ca/ news/politics/n95-ford-trudeau-ppe-covid19-brockville-1.5693766. 63 Economic Development, Job Creation and Trade, “Made-in-Ontario n 95 Respirators Begin Rolling Off the Production Line at the 3m Brockville Plant,” Ontario Newsroom, 7 April 2021, https://news.ontario.ca/en/ release/61028/made-in-ontario-n95-respirators-begin-rolling-off-theproduction-line-at-the-3m-brockville-plant; Ronald Zajac, “Brockville’s 3m mask plant expected to hire in new year,” Ottawa Citizen, 23 December 2021, https://ottawacitizen.com/business/ brockvilles-3m-mask-plant-expected-to-hire-in-new-year. 64 “Here are the Canadian politicians facing qeestions over travel amid covId-19 restrictions,” cbc News, 2 January 2021, https://www.cbc.ca/ news/politics/canadian-politicians-pandemic-travel-1.5859785; Daniel Tencer, “Canada’s vaccination rollout will lag 6 months behind US, Europe: Forecast,” HuffPost, 27 January 2021, https://www.huffingtonpost.ca/entry/canada-vaccination-forecast_ca_60117d85c5b6784 8ee7d15d8; Paula Newton, “Canada further restricts its borders, sets up fines for Covid-test violations,” cnn , 9 February 2021, https://www.cnn. com/travel/article/canada-travel-restrictions-fines/index.html. 65 Government of Canada, “Omicron – sars – CoV – 2 – Variant of Concern,” 15 December 2021, https://travel.gc.ca/travelling/health-safety/ travel-health-notices/226; U.S. Embassy and Consulates in Canada, “covId -19 Information – Canada,” 17 December 2021, https://ca. usembassy.gov/covid-19-information-canada-3.

pa r t t h r e e

Security and Society

11 Security Culture and Social Change in Canada and the United States since 9/11 Wilfrid Greaves

In the twenty-first century, social values in Canada and the United States have continued their decades-long trend of divergence. Exacerbated by institutional differences, distinct geopolitical roles, the traumatic events of 9/11 and their aftermath, and the destabilizing effects of the Trump presidency, this divergence has become increasingly visible with respect to many issues that affect both countries’ national security interests. Paradoxically, US and Canadian security practices with respect to border security, counterterrorism, the vestigial “global war on terror,” and the international deployment of military force largely converged post-9/11 even as the two countries’ underlying values grew further apart. Viewed through the lens of security culture, 9/11 signified an important milestone, but one that marked neither a beginning nor an end to the canus relationship. In this chapter, I use social values research to explore the links between domestic political attitudes and specific security cultures in Canada and the United States, and to assess the persistence of a common North American security culture, especially post-9/11. While reflecting their own dominant security cultures, both countries also exhibit notable subnational security cultures, or security subcultures, which exert significant influence on the national security culture and may account for the overall divergence between Canada and the United States. Assessing North American security culture is important because it speaks to the relative durability of the canus security community. As regions of “non-war” characterized by “dependable expectations of peaceful change” among their members,1 security communities

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comprise zones of peace where state actors have overcome mutual suspicion to renounce inter-state violence on the basis of amity, shared identity, and mutual trust leading to a common conception of their security interests. Though this is often overlooked, Canada and the United States began to institutionalize peaceful relations in the late nineteenth century making them “the oldest and most stable bilateral security community in the world.”2 Shared membership in such a long-standing security community, combined with the highly institutionalized nature of canus defence relations, denotes a common security culture and similar understanding of external threats. If divergent trajectories of social change in the two countries have resulted in distinct and sometimes conflicting domestic attitudes and political priorities, the question is whether the canus security community can endure without a common security culture. After 9/11, both countries entered a period of strong foreign and domestic security policy alignment. Canada enacted sweeping counterterrorism legislation and quickly negotiated a new “Smart Border Declaration” to satisfy American concerns over border security while limiting impediments to bilateral trade.3 Canada was an early participant in the US-led invasion of Afghanistan in October 2001 and in nato ’s subsequent Isaf (see Justin Massie’s chapter). However, bilateral relations, always prone to diplomatic disputes, had soured by the end of the George W. Bush administration; they remained cool during the Obama presidency and deteriorated to new lows after the election of Donald Trump before rebounding somewhat with the election of Joe Biden. As I argue elsewhere,4 the Trump administration seriously harmed the canus security community, but this only compounded the longer-term divergence in social and distinct security cultures in each country. As such, Trump was principally a symptom and accelerant of broader processes that preceded his time and conduct in office. Seen from a vantage of more than twenty years later, 9/11 stands out as a key inflection point, rather than as a beginning or end, in this longer process of North American cultural divergence. This chapter explores the sociological underpinnings of the security cultures in Canada and the United States. I argue that their divergent trajectories of social change have undermined the coherence of the common security culture on which the North American security community rests. I first outline research on social values and cultural differences between Canada and the United States,

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and on the emergence of a common North American security culture. I then discuss security cultures and subcultures in Canada and the United States, and examine four areas of foreign and security practice that reflect their cultural differences: canus bilateralism, multilateral internationalism, international activism and leadership, and domestic democracy. I conclude with reflections on the trajectory of the common security culture that has linked Canada and the United States for more than eighty-four years, as argued in David Haglund’s chapter.

s o c Ia l v a l ues and n o r t h a m e rI c a n s e c u rIty culture(s ) The question of cultural similarity and difference between Canada and the United States has been extensively studied, especially in Canadian social sciences. Two theories famously articulate rival perspectives. Echoing aspects of the Hartz–Horowitz thesis, which argued that Canada and the United States possessed distinct cultural “fragments” of their founding European peoples, Seymour Martin Lipset argued that the different circumstances of their national founding, and the historical interactions between each country’s founding and the other polity, produced enduring cultural differences between them.5 James Curtis and Edward Grabb counter that dominant English cultures in Canada and the United States are actually quite similar and that national differences largely emanate from their respective regional subcultures: Quebec and the American South.6 These subregional variations manifest themselves as distinct influences on security culture and policy in both countries, since the “four sub-societies frequently array themselves in a consistent pattern or order ... in which Quebec occupies one end of the continuum ... the American South stands at the other, and the other two regions fall relatively close to one another ... Quebecers are consistently the most liberal ... with southern Americans being least liberal.”7 (For more on Quebec policies, please see the chapter by Jean-Christophe Boucher, Jean-François Payette, and Stéphane Roussel). In many ways, the debate focuses on the degree of difference between Canada and the United States, for there is general agreement on both the relative similarity of Canadians and Americans, especially historically, and on numerous quantifiable differences in social values and national culture.

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The general trajectory of social values in Canada and the United States is of growing divergence due to differing societal consensuses on the sweeping changes produced by the following: the rise of the welfare state and changing state–society–market relations; women’s rights and the sexual revolution; and multiculturalism and tolerance of ethnocultural differences. Since the 1960s, these shifts have increasingly constituted Canada/United States as self/other, as “at the most basic level – the level of our values, the feelings and beliefs that inform our understanding of and interaction with the world around us – Canadians and Americans are markedly different, and becoming more so.”8 Social values research demonstrates that Canadians and Americans remain similar in comparative terms but that their differences have grown as Americans have polarized over questions of tolerance and inclusion, deference to authority, the welfare state, and the US’s global role; whereas Canadians remain relatively united around national values of human rights, gender equity, respect for rule of law, and ethnic and cultural diversity.9 National data render differences in overly stark terms, but overall, Canadians are more accepting of “outgroups” and supportive of minority rights; they are more skeptical of state institutions yet engaged in democratic processes; and they experience lower levels of inequality and are more optimistic about change.10 By contrast, values that have characterized American life for centuries have become sites of social and political struggle. Lipset described American culture as “revolutionary ... much more individualistic, antistatist, antielitist, supportive of laissez-faire, and less obedient.”11 “Laissez-faire individualism,” in particular, has provided the throughline of US political culture since 1776: “The value that derives from the Revolutionary belief that ordinary citizens can and should shape both their own destiny and the nature of the community in which they live without need of guidance by elites.”12 Although relatively minor during the nineteenth century, this underlying cultural difference became increasingly visible following the social and economic transformations in the wake of the Great Depression and Second World War. All security communities require “compatibility of major values relevant to political decision-making,”13 and the canus community was shaped by the two countries’ experiences of democracy and relative domestic stability during the decades when Europe was oscillating between empire, revolution, weak democracy, and

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authoritarianism. As the first half of the twentieth century was the period during which the canus security community really emerged (see David Haglund’s chapter), the common North American security culture – defined as “an intersubjective system of meanings about international threats and their required solutions”14 – actually preceded the emergence of distinct, post–Second World War national security cultures.15 In this respect, democratic norms and institutions were fundamental to the emergence of a bilateral security community based on shared identity and mutual trust, particularly for Canada to overcome fears of US domination or annexation.16 The result was a “we feeling” that linked first Canadian and US elites, then general publics, in a shared identity based on “cultural similarity, democracy, openness, the undefended border, and the enlightened use of arbitration and other depoliticized methods of conflict resolution.”17 The security community helped produce a broader affinity between Americans and Canadians that reflected not just their cultural and institutional similarities but also common national and security interests. Recognizing that their “geography also implies shared threats to their security and common environmental challenges,”18 Canada and the United States honed a security culture in which “friendship is above all structural. It is built on normative foundations that rest on security and interests, and it subsequently draws on the various roles and functions of substate actors and societies.”19 But inter-state amity is never fixed (despite the particularly close relationship forged via norad ; see the chapter by Charron, Fergusson, and St John), and the divergent trajectories of social change in Canada and the United States have significant negative implications for the shared perception of threat that underpins their common security culture.

s e cu rIt y c u l t u r e ( s ) In canada and the us Not all cultural factors contribute equally or even significantly to security culture, per se, but they do shape the underlying conditions and attitudes through which security culture is formed. Ultimately, national security cultures reflect underlying sociopolitical attitudes; “collectively shared systems of meanings about the state” based on common values, norms, and practices that mediate and structure the types of phenomena understood to threaten its core interests and the appropriate range of responses.20 Since national identities are

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neither pre-social nor unchanging, “the international and domestic societies in which states are embedded shape their identities in powerful ways.”21 Unsurprisingly, differing values, distinct geopolitical roles, an asymmetrically interdependent relationship, and institutional arrangements and cultural differences arising from their formative national events produced distinct security cultures in Canada and the United States. While social values research reveals numerous aspects of national identity that are relevant to security culture in Canada and the United States, the mechanisms that connect social values to political institutions and policy-makers are indirect. Decision-making within democracies is broadly responsive to public opinion, however,22 and societal actors can influence outcomes by shaping the general policy-making environment or influencing specific policy choices.23 While social attitudes can be important cultural indicators in their own right, they also affect the opportunity structures for domestic political mobilization; thus, “in the international policy domain, public attitudes are best viewed as parameter-setting.”24 If attitudes differ significantly among states within a security community, their policy-making parameters will also differ, producing conditions for misalignment or disagreement.25 Policy and norm entrepreneurs are therefore critical for shifting those parameters by translating cultural attitudes and beliefs into specific policy or institutional shifts. For instance, “the US-Canadian case suggests ... actors’ beliefs and preferences are not static but are instead acquired through experience and reflection. New behavior or new ideas can lead actors to revise their preexisting images of one another and generate new understandings of their relationship.”26 In the case of an existing security community, cultural trends may lead domestic actors in divergent policy directions, and their domestic political behaviour may produce unintended consequences for the bilateral relationship. Canada’s national identity is obviously affected by domestic factors, but also by expressly international factors related to its status and relationships in the world.27 In his analysis of Canadian national security culture, Alan Stephenson notes that studies of political culture in Canada have omitted security considerations, but he also identifies “five distinct sets of norms [that] emerge from [the] identity, values, culture, and interests that shape national security preferences: sovereignty, particularism, collectivism, respect for authority and

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pragmatism.”28 Some scholars have examined rival cultures specifically surrounding Canada’s international use of military force, which Justin Massie identifies as continental soft-bandwagoning, defensive internationalism, and soft-balancing Atlanticism.29 Though regional subcultures play a distinct role, Roland Paris stresses the durability of a nationwide liberal internationalist framework for normative understandings of Canada’s international behaviour (as do Nossal and Roussel in their chapter).30 Other differences distinguish Canada from its neighbour, such as greater fiscal conservatism, civilianization and bureaucratization of the defence leadership, ambivalence toward nuclear deterrence, insularity, techno-pessimism, and general limited concern over continental defence and other perceived conventional security threats.31 In the United States, security culture has been interpreted largely in terms of strategic culture and “the American way of war.”32 This strategic culture was informed by a “finite set of variables ... until the end of the 19th century ... includ[ing] America’s vast territorial extension, the myth of manifesting a destiny of national success, and the unusually large resource base.”33 These factors fuelled the United States’ rise to global power following its victory in the Spanish-American War and the annexation of the Kingdom of Hawai’i, both in 1898. The United States now possessed overseas colonies and thus, for the first time, global strategic interests; the defence of the US homeland thereby became tied to the forward deployment of military force. That meant it had just joined the great power competition, with all the grand strategy that entailed. This fostered a security culture focused on, first, “homeland defence, protection of the Western Hemisphere and projection of American power overseas in imperialist conflicts,” and then, after the Second World War, “taking the offensive against America’s enemies overseas [keeping] threats to their security as far from their shores as possible.”34 In this context, US security culture since the 1940s has been characterized by “leadership of the Western alliance ... with a preference for multilateral action; nuclear deterrence; and a shared belief in the utility of military force to achieve security objectives.”35 When the 9/11 attacks brought foreign violence to the US homeland, the Bush administration acted quickly to restore “Fortress North America,” thus igniting new conflicts that returned the strategic focus abroad.36

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Regional Security Subcultures Security culture is not monolithic in either Canada or the United States. Informed by distinct historical and sociological factors, subnational distributions of social values result in regional security subcultures that affect national security culture overall. In Canada, two regions deviate from the dominant security culture: Quebec and the Prairie West. Quebec’s distinctiveness on foreign policy issues compared to English-speaking Canada extends back at least as far as resistance to conscription during the First World War and, in a sense, back to the British conquest of New France. Quebec’s “pacific society” in terms of reluctance to use military force is empirically clear, even if the strength of anti-militarism is sometimes overstated. Debates continue over how different Quebec really is from the rest of Canada, and even whether Quebecers are the most faithful adherents of Canada’s “Pearsonian” foreign policy traditions.37 Attitudes in the Prairie West, especially Alberta, are “diametrically opposed” to those in Quebec;38 with greater support for coercive use of military force, continental integration with the United States, and skepticism of Canada’s international role.39 At least part of this divide is attributable to partisanship, with more Conservative Party supporters in the Prairies skewing the region in favour of militaristic, pro-American, and anti-multilateral foreign and security policies.40 The principal subculture in the United States emanates from the American South. That region plays a disproportionate role in US national and security cultures due to factors such as the legacy of the Civil War, institutional racism and segregation, the role of the South in US electoral politics, and the density of military facilities in the southern states. Its general political culture reflects “anti-elitism and the desire for local autonomy, plus the desire for ‘states rights,’ ‘intense localism,’ and ‘local communalism’ [shaped by] the elephant in the room, i.e., the social and economic organization of slavery and its consequences for the fundamental rights of Blacks over the past 300 years.”41 The elephant is significant for security culture; though racism is endemic in the United States, as in Canada, there is a distinct relationship in the South between white supremacy, electoral politics, and culture that distinguishes that region from other English-speaking regions of North America: “Slavery did make the South distinctive, and in ways that were incompatible with equality and other Revolutionary principles.”42 The intersection of the

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revolutionary ethos of laissez-faire individualism and anti-statism with the South’s institutional manifestations of anti-Black racism and federal antipathy produced the most illiberal of the four North American subcultures. Given that social values in Quebec and the American South diverge the most among the four North American subcultures, it is significant that each exerts outsized influence over its respective national politics. The US Senate and electoral college both favour less populous states, including many in the South, while in recent decades southern voters have consolidated substantial electoral support for the Republican Party across all levels of government.43 As discussed below, this has had significant consequences for democratic erosion and institutional instability in the United States. In Canada, meanwhile, Quebec voters have been essential for most majority governments in Canadian history. Members of Parliament representing Quebec electoral ridings account for half the prime ministers since 1948, including the incumbent Justin Trudeau, and have governed for more than two thirds of that period, including all but a decade since 1968. Quebec’s distinctiveness drove national debates and constitutional negotiations throughout the latter twentieth century and has influenced key foreign and security policy decisions, such as Canada’s refusal to join the 2003 invasion of Iraq.44 Notably, the only significant prime ministers in the post-1948 period from outside Quebec have represented the Prairie West, reflecting historical swings of the political pendulum in Canada. The political influence of subregions thus drives much of the divergence in national culture between Canada and the United States. In the remainder of this chapter, I examine four areas of contemporary foreign and security policy that reflect distinct Canadian and US security cultures: canus bilateralism, multilateral internationalism, international activism and leadership, and domestic democracy. CANUS Bilateralism The most important determinant of security in Canada is unquestionably its relationship with the United States, which has always been shaped by popular concerns regarding the sovereignty, identity, and economic implications of the proverbial Canadian mouse getting too close to the American elephant.45 But the US role in Canadian security culture is ambivalent, given that “anti-American

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and pro-American sentiments have both a longer lineage in Canada than anywhere else in the world.”46 The canus security community is deeply institutionalized (as noted in Charron, Fergusson, and St John’s chapter on norad ), and its fundamental paradox is that “the only continuous, direct, existential threat to Canadian sovereignty and independence has been and continues to be assimilation of its society and polity into the United States.”47 Illustrated by official and popular reactions to issues as diverse as free trade, the Americanization of Canadian media, the hollowing of Canada’s corporate sector, perceived American intrusions into Canada’s Arctic sovereignty, and the view that Canada’s security and defence policy must primarily defend against unwanted American help,48 the fear of US domination is a recurring feature of Canadian politics. Simply put, “in practically every way – cultural, religious, legal and political – the roots of modern Canada lie in the effort to secure the northern colonies against the United States and prevent the domination of North America by the new nation.”49 By contrast, the United States doesn’t think too much about Canada when it comes to security and defence. This tendency to neglect Canada is despite the fact that the US’s ability to secure its own national territory – be it against the Germans and Japanese, Soviet missiles, or transnational terrorism – has required close cooperation with its northern neighbour, making this otherwise parochial relationship vital to the national defence of the world’s foremost military power. Research on public attitudes in Canada and the United States reflects the general asymmetry of their relationship; far more has been written about Canadian attitudes toward the United States than vice versa, and it is generally recognized that Americans typically know less about Canada due to their “cognitive isolationism.”50 Limited knowledge provides fertile ground for misunderstanding, which can produce confusion and fuel inaccuracies about Canada’s role in US national security. Amid the deep contours of ongoing technical cooperation across a range of issues, Canada has experienced serious security policy disputes with every US administration this century. The Bush administration was famously surprised and frustrated at Canada’s refusal to join the invasion of Iraq in 2003 and later to not participate in continental missile defence. During the Obama administration, Canada and the United States diverged on conventional security issues such as the Israel–Palestine conflict and the Iran nuclear agreement, as well as

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unconventional issues such as the Keystone xl pipeline and climate change.51 The Trump presidency marked the most acute rejection of common North American security interests in the history of the canus relationship, not to mention the greatest harms ever deliberately inflicted on Canada’s national interests by a US president.52 In addition to numerous other disagreements, Trump ordered the withholding of protective equipment during the early stages of the Covid-19 pandemic, supported militarizing the canus border, and designated Canadian steel and aluminum imports a threat to US national security, undermining the very idea of a common security culture (see the chapter by Macdonald and Ayres). But it is not unprecedented for Canada to be characterized as a threat to the United States: the myth that Canada’s lax border security could expose the United States to terrorism has persisted since at least 1999 and was repeated frequently post-9/11, including by President Obama’s dhs secretary, Janet Napolitano, who told cBc News that while Canada lacked the drug wars that so vexed the Mexican border, the Canadian frontier was on America’s radar as a potential gateway for terrorist threats.53 The “security-ness” of the relationship is thus bidirectional for both countries. On the one hand, they are deeply, albeit asymmetrically, interdependent for national security and continental defence. Canada has strongly supported the US’s global leadership and has participated in a range of US-led military conflicts. Though Canada famously declined to join the 2003 invasion of Iraq, since 9/11, Canada has participated in US-led combat operations in Afghanistan, Libya, and Iraq as part of the coalition against the Islamic State, as well as in nato deterrence operations in Eastern Europe.54 Internationally, Canada remains overwhelmingly aligned with the United States; the paradox is that Canada’s security interests are entangled with a more powerful neighbour that for two centuries has both deterred foreign adversaries and posed the definitive threat to its national sovereignty. But anxieties over the United States are primarily an elite concern, for “Canadian society does not perceive the United States in terms of ‘a threat’ per se. Instead, [it] conceives national security in terms of state protection of acquired values that are in need of safeguarding primarily from a hegemonic neighbour and only secondarily from an inconsistent, dynamic international environment.”55 This is consistent with the consensus on the high-level of sociological similarity between English Canadian and northern American publics.56

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Multilateral Internationalism Alongside Canada’s relationship with the United States is an affinity for multilateral internationalism, widely considered one of the defining features of Canadian foreign policy and discussed by Nossal and Roussel in their chapter.57 Indeed, Canada pursues a multilateral foreign policy precisely to balance its dependence on the United States: “On the one hand, Canada recognizes that it has a bilateral obligation to contribute to the security of its powerful neighbor while, on the other hand, it has generally emphasized a multilateral approach to international peace and stability through international institutions.”58 Canada is a well-known founder and joiner of multilateral institutions and international organizations; it also “belongs to the most important groups in the architecture of contemporary global governance,” notably the g 7.59 Most observers agree Canada’s post– Second World War foreign policy has been characterized by liberal internationalist policies emphasizing international responsibility, multilateral cooperation, support for international institutions, pursuit of collective goods, and international law.60 Support for multilateralism runs so deep that “many Canadians’ self-definitions of their country are tied to the belief that Canada has a role in the international community.”61 Even after Stephen Harper’s government spent a decade trying to shift the narrative of Canada’s place in the world from “helpful fixer” or “honest broker” to “courageous warrior,” “the apparent tenacity of the Canadian public’s attachment to liberal internationalist values and symbols suggests that Conservatives ... underestimated the capacity of populations to resist top-down change.”62 Even after this attempted “diplomatic counter-revolution,”63 a majority of Canadians in all regions still express “globalist” attitudes on issues such as globalization, technology, and immigration and diversity.64 Multilateral internationalism remains a robust aspect of Canadian security culture. The United States’ relationship to multilateral internationalism is more complicated. On the one hand, the United States was a founding and leading member of the same post–Second World War international institutions as Canada, particularly the un , the Bretton Woods system, and nato . These served as institutional reflections of America’s commitment to capitalist democracies elsewhere in the world and were critical for the postwar global extension of US power. Guided by the lessons of US isolationism during the interwar period, US officials

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after the Second World War embraced the view that national security could only be secured through multilateral engagement.65 As such, America’s global role has been undergirded by a system of liberal international institutions, and “the American postwar multilateralist agenda consisted above all of a desire to restructure the international order along broadly multilateral lines.”66 This reliance on multilateral institutions foreshadowed the challenges to US strategic culture after the Cold War. With the apparent triumph of the West, the strategic rationale for American institutional leadership disappeared at the same time that the growth of new institutions threatened to constrain American power within a system of its own making. During the 1990s, rifts emerged as America adjusted to unipolar status, European integration deepened, and nato reoriented for an altered global security environment.67 In this context, the United States resisted the establishment of new multilateral institutions, principles, and legal agreements, rejecting the preferences of its Canadian, European, and Asian allies. These rifts widened further when the Bush administration illegally invaded Iraq, ignoring objections from many allies and dividing the transatlantic community.68 The “strategic restraint”69 that had characterized US leadership since the end of the Second World War appeared to be over. Though not without precedent, the invasion of Iraq signified a new era of relative unilateralism in the pursuit of US foreign and security policy. By the end of the Bush presidency, the United States’ international reputation was in tatters, as was its global economy. Barack Obama’s election restored the United States’ international stature, but marked only a partial return to multilateral institutionalism in a fundamentally changed context: On the international side, other states ... now insist that the United States abide by institutional rules and procedures on an equal basis: no more hegemonic prerogatives ... On the domestic side, the absence of a great power threat has rendered presidential authority in foreign policy once again open to challenge ... Groups that oppose multilateral commitments ... can maneuver within the decentralized structure of American politics to veto US engagement abroad.70 The fragmented landscape of US domestic politics affords opportunities for actors to leverage isolationist attitudes for electoral advantage,

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thereby disincentivizing multilateral action abroad. The Trump administration capitalized on precisely such attitudes in its efforts to replace the multilateral tenets of US grand strategy with a policy of “America First” whose cornerstones included rejecting international obligations, alienating traditional allies, bolstering foes, and generally hastening the transition to a multipolar international system.71 Joe Biden’s election restored the possibility for renewed US multilateralism, but at the time of writing this remains partly realized, at best. Evidence suggests that multilateralism matters more to US foreign policy elites than to the general public,72 raising doubt over how significant a part of US security culture it will remain. International Activism and Leadership For Canada, support for multilateralism is instrumental as well as principled, since Canadians consistently express a desire for activist international engagement that is enhanced through cooperation with other countries. Canadian leadership on a range of international issues is usually well-received domestically, as “it is Canada’s more activist international policies that resonate with citizens’ definitions of what it means to be Canadian. Given this, the Canadian public may be reluctant to see Canadian policy step away from an activist international role.”73 As expressed through Canada’s typical focus on solving discrete international problems, Canadians like to see their foreign policy make an impact in the world: “While Canadians may agree or disagree on specific policies, there seems to be a broad agreement – or, more precisely, a broadly shared assumption – that Canada should perform certain general roles in international affairs.”74 This expectation has persisted over time and suggests that what differentiates various groups is their views on what Canada’s foreign and security policies should focus, not whether Canada should demonstrate international leadership. Canadians’ perceptions of their country’s significance on the world stage do not always reflect reality, an example being the perennial but anachronistic view of Canada as a peacekeeping nation;75 they do, however, demonstrate that there is ongoing support for international activism and leadership within the cultural foundations that underpin Canada’s international behaviour. For the United States, international activism and leadership looks rather different. Given its status as a superpower with unparalleled

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military and economic capabilities, activism in US foreign and security policy often resembles unilateralism. In this sense, international activism should be distinguished from “doing good.” While undertheorized, the hallmark of an activist international policy is the desire to change a status quo, not to achieve a particular type of outcome. According to Barry Posen, the United States’ activism has entailed a long list of ambitious foreign policy projects. Washington has tried to rescue failing states ... attempted to defend human rights, suppress undesirable nationalist movements, and install democratic regimes. It has also tried to contain so-called rogue states ... In pursuit of this ambitious agenda, the United States has consistently spent hundreds of billions of dollars per year on its military ... This undisciplined, expensive, and bloody strategy has done untold harm to U.S. national security.76 The Bush Doctrine of preventive inter-state war accompanied by a global campaign against a nebulous terrorist threat constituted an activist foreign policy. Donald Trump’s incoherent “America First” stance grafted onto a facsimile of post–Second World War international leadership was similarly activist in its desire to transform the status quo.77 Joe Biden’s decision to withdraw US troops from Afghanistan and so end America’s longest war could also be read as activist foreign policy, though it paved the way for a rapid Taliban return to power. By contrast, Barack Obama’s efforts to restore the status quo ante of pre-Bush US leadership and prestige without resolving the military conflicts Bush had started, coupled with his hesitation to embrace major changes in the existing international order, exemplified a non-activist foreign policy.78 Ultimately, “activism” may be a poor lens for interpreting the international behaviour of a superpower that both upholds the status quo and possesses an unrivalled capacity to disrupt it when it wants to do so. Domestic Democracy In addition to the gaps between Canadian and American approaches towards bilateralism, multilateralism, and international activism, there is a deeper crack in the foundations of their common security culture: differing commitments to domestic democracy. As one of the “major

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values” of the canus security community, democracy is the normative centrepiece of North American security culture. For Canada in particular, democratic accountability in the United States is both an expression of common values and a requirement if this country is to have confidence in its North American partner. Simply put, for Canada, US democracy is the principal bulwark against the coercive exercise of US power against Canadian interests and independence.79 The erosion of democracy in the United States since 9/11 is thus a core factor in North American security culture today. While championing a global “Freedom Agenda,” the Bush administration undermined constitutional rights and protections as well as the international rule of law.80 The gwot (see Shannon Nash’s chapter) entailed sweeping and now infamous counterterrorism practices that “put in place a radical expansion of power that sought to place the president outside domestic and international law.”81 These developments only exacerbated longer-standing concerns over the democratic deficit derived from gerrymandering and other partisan interference in the electoral process, excessive polarization in public policy-making, and persistent racial inequalities in the electoral and legal systems.82 As serious as democratic erosion was during the Bush era, it accelerated after the 2016 election of Donald Trump. In that year, the Economist Intelligence Unit downgraded the United States to “flawed democracy” due largely to the polarization and poor functioning of government combined with low levels of political participation.83 This coincided with a historic sixty-year year decline in Americans’ trust in government to barely 20 per cent by 2015.84 The United States’ freedom index score dropped by 3/100 points the year Trump took office, and his presidency was subsequently distinguished by sustained, purposeful, and widespread assaults on democratic norms and institutions.85 As a result, by 2020, the United States ranked fifty-third globally in democratic quality, far behind Canada (ranked fourth), with some organizations further downgrading the United States from democracy to “anocracy ... a regime that mixes democratic with autocratic features.”86 Trump’s unfounded contention that the 2020 election was stolen from him, supported by more than 70 per cent of Republican voters; his incitement of mob violence, which led to the 6 January 2021 sack of the US Capitol; and the ensuing Republican campaign to deny its own responsibility and prevent accountability indicate clearly that democratic erosion has not stopped.87 Republican voters and elected officials overwhelmingly

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support Trump and the use of overtly anti-democratic practices if it hampers Democrats and sustains Republican electoral power.88 Considered alongside the use of state violence against protesters, citizens, and journalists throughout 2020; the ongoing turmoil wrought by the Covid-19 pandemic; overt Republican support for sedition against the federal government; and the continued presence of insurrectionists within Congress and throughout the Republican Party, democratic “deconsolidation” in the United States will not be rectified solely by the election of a new president and is likely to persist through the 2024 election cycle.89 Restoring the health of US democracy will require overcoming the entrenchment of anti-democratic politics within the Republican Party, the most electorally dominant US political party in this century. Here, the significance of regional subcultures comes back into focus, as the South is the Republican Party’s electoral and ideological heartland and its neo-Revolutionary values identify laissez-faire individualism and anti-statism as the very ideals that make America exceptional. Since southern political culture places “emphasis on the right of individuals to decide for themselves how to engage and shape the civil order, and a corresponding disdain for rules imposed top down by the state,”90 it fosters resistance to addressing security issues that require collective solutions. Anti-liberal and anti-statist sentiments in the southern subculture are contributing to the ineffectual response and incomplete securitization of a range of contemporary issues, including racially motivated violent extremism, white nationalism in law enforcement and the military, climate change, and provision of improved social welfare.91 Whatever these values’ supposed merits for US domestic politics, their influence on security culture is incompatible with the mutual interests and interdependence required for and produced by a security community. Given the similarity between English Canada and the non-southern United States, the anti-liberal subculture of the South and its outsized role in US politics is driving divergence in social values, ultimately weakening the North American security community.

co n c l u sI o n : a c o m m on culture st Ill? From the late twentieth century, Canada and the United States built and then maintained a bilateral friendship that produced a common North American security culture. Their similar publics, shared

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interests based on North American geography, and dense networks of interpersonal, institutional, and elite ties enabled a bilateral security community founded on shared identity, mutual trust, and domestic democracy. Canadians and Americans trusted each other sufficiently that “even when domestic political actors have behaved in ways contrary to those [shared] identities, they were unable to undermine the basic trust that existed between Americans and Canadians.”92 In the first decades of the twenty-first century, the bonds of trust accompanying the North American identity have been repeatedly tested as underlying social values in Canada and the United States have continued to diverge in the face of persistent foreign policy disputes. In the process, trust has declined and identities based on shared values have frayed. This process began before 9/11, but it certainly accelerated afterwards. Driven forward by the contradictions and disagreements associated with the global war on terror, the ensuing polarization of US society, and the political radicalization of a large segment of American society, the result is neighbouring societies with more substantive disagreements and less in common than perhaps ever before. There are thus reasons to doubt whether a North American security culture still links the two countries, or that it will continue to inform elite and popular attitudes toward security decision-making. Although closely aligned in the immediate aftermath of the 9/11 attacks, Canada and the United States subsequently diverged with respect to several key foreign and security issues. Their differing approaches to canus bilateralism, multilateral internationalism, and international activism and leadership, and the United States’ wavering commitment to domestic democracy, reflect underlying cultural differences that inform their distinct national security cultures. Neither country is homogenous, and overall, they may remain more culturally similar than distinct, but the core values of individualistic anti-statism in the United States differ substantially from the statist, elitist, and collectivist aspects of Canadian society. In the face of a shifting security environment both internationally and domestically, the result is distinct national consensuses on the nature of particular security problems and the appropriate scope and methods for government to respond. What this means for the longer future of the canus security community is hard to assess, as the United States remains in a period of significant, perhaps transformational, constitutional crisis and

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political uncertainty. Through the lens of security culture, what is clearer, however, is that 9/11 was a milestone, albeit one that marked neither a beginning nor an end in the bilateral relationship. The divergence in social values that has today grown so acute was already long under way, as was the close alignment of Canada with US foreign and security preferences. Like the later crisis of the Trump presidency, the social and political consequences of 9/11 were largely symptomatic of forces already at work in American society. The 9/11 attacks and the response to them, like Donald Trump and his political movement, were produced by preceding forces, which they came to represent, even if they also exacerbated and accelerated those same phenomena. Throughout this period, Canada’s commitment to the bilateral security community – based not on altruism or neighbourly goodwill, but on its centrality to Canadian national interests – has helped it weather the tumult of contemporary US politics. However, if social values in Canada and the United States continue to diverge, their common security culture may be strained beyond the breaking point. Should domestic political actors and new norm entrepreneurs advance disparate, perhaps incompatible, visions for their societies, the shared conception of security required for a security community may become too frayed to bridge the gap in social values and popular attitudes. Ironically, if the North American security community does not endure, it will render the citizens of both Canada and the United States less secure than they have been over the course of their long friendship. not e s 1 Karl W. Deutsch, Sidney A. Burrell, Robert A. Kahn, Maurice Lee, Martin Lichterman, Raymond E. Lindgren, Francis L. Loewenheim, and Richard W. Van Wagenen, Political Community and the North Atlantic Area (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957), 5. 2 Todd Hataley and Christian Leuprecht, “Canada–US Security Cooperation: Interests, Institutions, Identity, and Ideas,” in Canada–US Relations: Sovereignty or Shared Institutions?, ed. David Carment and Christopher Sands (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 101. 3 Patrick Lennox, “From Golden Straitjacket to Kevlar Vest: Canada’s Transformation to a Security State,” Canadian Journal of Political Science 40, no. 4 (2007): 1017–38.

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4 Wilfrid Greaves, “Democracy, Donald Trump, and the Canada–US Security Community,” Canadian Journal of Political Science 53, no. 4 (2020): 800–20. 5 These interactions mostly reflect American influence on Canada: Lipset argued that the American Revolution produced lasting cultural differences in both countries, and Confederation of the British North American colonies in 1867 was partly driven by fear of annexation by the post–Civil War United States. See Seymour Martin Lipset, Continental Divide: The Values and Institutions of the United States and Canada (New York: Routledge, 1990). For discussion in relation to the Hartz–Horowitz thesis, see Doug Baer, Eddward Grabb, and William A. Johnston, “The Values of Canadians and Americans: A Critical Analysis and Reassessment,” Social Forces 68, no. 3 (1990): 693–713. 6 For a review of this debate, see Michael P. Carroll, “Who Owns Democracy? Explaining the Long-Running Debate over Canadian/ American Value Differences,” Canadian Review of Sociology and Anthropology 42, no. 3 (2005): 267–82; James Curtis and Edward Grabb, “Rejoinder to ‘Who Owns Democracy?,’” Canadian Review of Sociology and Anthropology 42, no. 4 (2005): 467–78. 7 Edward Grabb and James Curtis, Regions Apart: The Four Societies of Canada and the United States (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2005): 244–5. 8 Michael Adams, Fire and Ice: The United States, Canada, and the Myth of Converging Values (Toronto: Penguin, 2003), 4. 9 Ibid.; Michael Adams, Could It Happen Here? Canada in the Age of Trump and Brexit (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2017); Maire Sinha, “Canadian Identity, 2013” (Ottawa: Statistics Canada, 2015), https:// www150.statcan.gc.ca/n1/en/pub/89-652-x/89-652-x2015005-eng. pdf?st=bxt2_5OU. 10 Curtis and Grabb, Rejoinder to “Who Owns Democracy?,” 469. 11 Seymour Martin Lipset, “Steady Work: An Academic Memoir,” Annual Review of Sociology 22 (1996): 23. 12 Michael E. Carroll, “Who Owns Democracy? Explaining the LongRunning Debate over Canadian/American Value Differences.*” Canadian Review of Sociology 42, no. 3 (August 2005): 267–82 at 274. 13 Deutsch et al., Political Community and the North Atlantic Area, 66. 14 Vincent Pouliot, “The Alive and Well Transatlantic Security Community: A Theoretical Reply to Michael Cox,” European Journal of International Relations 12, no. 1 (2006): 123.

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15 Sean M. Shore, “No Fences Make Good Neighbours: The Development of the Canadian–US Security Community, 1871–1940,” in Security Communities, ed. Emanuel Adler and Michael Barnett (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 333–67. 16 Stéphane Roussel, The North American Democratic Peace: Absence of War and Security Institution-Building in Canada–US Relations, 1867–1958 (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2004), 9–10. 17 Shore, “No Fences Make Good Neighbours,” 348. 18 Timothy B. Gravelle, “Love Thy Neighbo(u)r? Political Attitudes, Proximity, and the Mutual Perceptions of the Canadian and American Publics,” Canadian Journal of Political Science 47, no. 1 (2014): 136. 19 Caroline Patsias and Dany Deschênes, “Unsocial Sociability: The Paradox of Canadian–American Friendship,” International Politics 48, no. 1 (2011): 107. 20 Justin Massie, “Canada’s ‘Irrational’ International Security Policy: A Tale of Three Strategic Cultures,” International Journal 64, no. 3 (2009): 630; Arnold Wolfers, “‘National Security’ as an Ambiguous Symbol,” Political Science Quarterly 67, no. 4 (1952): 481–502. 21 Peter J. Katzenstein, “Introduction: Alternative Perspectives on National Security,” in The Culture of National Security: Norms and Identity in World Politics, ed. Katzenstein (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996), 23. 22 Paul Burstein, “The Impact of Public Opinion on Public Policy: A Review and an Agenda,” Political Research Quarterly 56, no. 1 (2003): 29–40; François Petry and Matthew Mendelsohn, “Public Opinion and Policy Making in Canada 1994–2001,” Canadian Journal of Political Science 37, no. 3 (2004): 505–29. 23 Kim Richard Nossal, Stéphane Roussel, and Stéphane Paquin, The Politics of Canadian Foreign Policy, 4th ed. (Montreal and Kingston: McGill– Queen’s University Press, 2015), 119. 24 Loleen Berdahl and Tracey Raney, “Being Canadian in the World,” International Journal 65, no. 4 (2010): 996. 25 Arguably, this captures part of the dynamics in the context of the 2003 US-led invasion of Iraq; differing levels of public support for the invasion and the ideas that underpinned it produced different parameters for action for Canada and the United States. See Ipsos-Reid, “Majority (71%) of Canadians think Canada did “right thing” by not supporting U.S. in war against Saddam Hussein,” 2004, https://www.ipsos.com/en-ca/

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majority-71-canadians-think-canada-did-right-thing-not-supporting-uswar-against-saddam-hussein. Shore, “No Fences Make Good Neighbours,” 359. Will Kymlicka, “Being Canadian,” Government and Opposition 38, no. 3 (2003): 357–85. Alan J. Stephenson, Canadian National Security Culture: Explaining Post 9/11 Canadian National Security Policy Outcomes (PhD diss., Carleton University, 2016), 123. Massie, “Canada’s ‘Irrational’ International Security Policy.” Roland Paris, “Are Canadians Still Liberal Internationalists? Foreign Policy and Public Opinion in the Harper Era,” International Journal 69, no. 3 (2014): 299. Alexander Gordon Salt, “Cultural Differences: Transformation and the Future of American-Canadian Defence Relations,” Canadian Foreign Policy Journal 2, no. 3 (2014): 264–5. Jeffrey S. Lantis, “Strategic Culture and National Security Policy,” International Studies Review 4, no. 3 (2002): 87–113; Lantis, “American Perspectives on the Transatlantic Security Agenda,” European Security 13, no. 4 (2004): 361–80; Antulio J. Echevarria, Reconsidering the American Way of War: US Military Practice from the Revolution to Afghanistan (Washington, dc : Georgetown University Press, 2014). Brice F. Harris, “United States Strategic Culture and Asia-Pacific Security,” Contemporary Security Policy 35, no. 2 (2014): 294. Matthew Trudgen, “The Key to the Canada–United States Relationship: Homeland and Continental Defence in American Strategic Culture,” Canadian Foreign Policy Journal 22, no. 2 (2015): 187–8. Lantis, “American Perspectives on the Transatlantic Security Agenda,” 363. Ilan Peleg, The Legacy of George W. Bush’s Foreign Policy: Moving beyond Neoconservatism (Milton Park: Taylor and Francis, 2009); Jonathan Paquin and Patrick James, eds, Game Changer: The Impact of 9/11 on North American Security (Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press, 2014). Jean-Sébastien Rioux, “Two Solitudes: Quebecers’ Attitudes Regarding Canadian Security and Defence Policy,” Journal of Military and Strategic Studies 7, no. 3 (2004); Justin Massie, “Regional Strategic Subcultures: Canadians and the Use of Force in Afghanistan and Iraq,” Canadian Foreign Policy 14, no. 2 (2008): 19–48; Massie, “Canada’s ‘Irrational’ “International Security Policy”; Stéphane Roussel and Jean-Christophe Boucher, “The Myth of the Pacific Society: Quebec’s Contemporary

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Strategic Culture,” American Review of Canadian Studies 38, no. 2 (2008): 165–89. Massie, “Regional Strategic Subcultures,” 20. Paris, “Are Canadians Still Liberal Internationalists?” 298-299. Massie, “Regional Strategic Subcultures”; Bruce Anderson and David Coletto, “Public Opinion on Stephen Harper’s Approach to Foreign Affairs,” Abacus Data, 22 September 2014, https://abacusdata.ca/ harpers-approach-foreign-affairs-isis-threat; Bruce Anderson and David Coletto, “Globalism and Nationalism in Canada,” Abacus Data, 9 May 2017, https://abacusdata.ca/globalism-and-nationalism-in-canada. Curtis and Grabb, “Rejoinder to ‘Who Owns Democracy?,’” 474. Ibid., 475. Emphases in original. Charles Bullock, Susan A. MacManus, Jeremy D. Mayer, and Mark J. Rozell, The South and the Transformation of US Politics (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019). Joseph Fiorino, “Why Canada Really Didn’t Go to Iraq in 2003,” nato Association of Canada, 9 June 2015, https://natoassociation.ca/whycanada-really-didnt-go-to-iraq-in-2003. Richard Nimijean, “Where Is the Relationship Going? The View from Canada,” in Canada–US Relations: Sovereignty or Shared Institutions? ed. David Carment and Christopher Sands (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), 39–59. Gravelle, “Love Thy Neighbo(u)r?,” 138. Stephenson, Canadian National Security Culture, 6. Donald Barry and Duane Bratt, “Defence against Help: Explaining Canada–US Security Relations,” American Review of Canadian Studies 38, no. 1 (2008): 63–89. Norman Hillmer and J.L. Granatstein, For Better or for Worse: Canada and the United States into the Twenty-First Century (Toronto: Thomson Nelson, 2007), 5. Stephen Brooks, As Others See Us: The Causes and Consequences of Foreign Perceptions of America (Peterborough: Broadview, 2006), 15; Gravelle, “Love Thy Neighbo(u)r?” Jonathan Paquin, “US Partisan Perceptions of Stephen Harper’s Shift in Foreign Policy,” International Journal 73, no. 2 (2018): 282–98; Wilfrid Greaves, “Environmental Security, Energy Security, and the Arctic in the Obama Presidency,” in One Arctic: The Arctic Council and Circumpolar Governance, ed. P. Whitney Lackenbauer, Heather Nicol, and Wilfrid Greaves (Ottawa: Canadian Arctic Resources Committee and Centre for Foreign Policy and Federalism, 2017), 101–25.

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52 Greaves, “Democracy, Donald Trump, and the Canada–US Security Community.” 53 Mitch Potter, “US official resurrects terror link to Canada,” Toronto Star, 21 April 2009, https://www.thestar.com/news/2009/04/21/us_official_ resurrects_terror_link_to_canada.html. 54 Jeffrey Rice and Stéfanie von Hlatky, “Trudeau the Reluctant Warrior? Canada and International Military Operations,” in Justin Trudeau and Canadian Foreign Policy, ed. Norman Hillmer and Philippe Lagassé (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018), 285–302. 55 Stephenson, Canadian National Security Culture, 6. 56 See Curtis and Grabb, “Rejoinder to ‘Who Owns Democracy?,’” 471. 57 Tom Keating, Canada and World Order: The Multilateralist Tradition in Canadian Foreign Policy. 3rd ed. (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2012); Adam Chapnick, “Canadian Foreign Policy 1945–1968,” in Readings in Canadian Foreign Policy: Classic Debates and New Ideas, 3rd ed., ed. Duane Bratt and Christopher J. Kukucha (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2015), 28–41. 58 Stephenson, Canadian National Security Culture, 7. 59 Nossal, Roussel, and Paquin, The Politics of Canadian Foreign Policy, 41. 60 Kim Richard Nossal, “The Liberal Past in the Conservative Present: Internationalism in the Harper Era,” in Canada in the World: Internationalism in Canadian Foreign Policy, ed. Heather A. Smith and Claire Turenne Sjolander (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2013), 21–35; Paris, “Are Canadians Still Liberal Internationalists?” 61 Berdahl and Raney, “Being Canadian in the World,” 1004. 62 Paris, “Are Canadians Still Liberal Internationalists?” 306. 63 Adam Chapnick, “A Diplomatic Counter-Revolution,” International Journal 67, no. 1 (2012): 137–54. 64 Anderson and Coletto, “Globalism and Nationalism in Canada.” 65 G. John Ikenberry, After Victory: Institutions, Strategic Restraint, and the Rebuilding of Order after Major Wars, 2nd ed. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019). 66 John G. Ruggie, “Multilateralism: The Anatomy of an Institution,” International Organization 46, no. 3 (1992): 589–90. 67 Thomas Risse, “Beyond Iraq: The Crisis of the Transatlantic Security Community,” Die Friedens-Warte 78, nos. 2–3 (2003): 173–93; Elizabeth Pond, Friendly Fire: The Near Death Experience of the Transatlantic Alliance (Washington, dc : Brookings Institution Press, 2004). 68 Michael Cox, “Beyond the West: Terrors in Transatlantia,” European Journal of International Relations 11, no. 2 (2005): 203–33.

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69 G. John Ikenberry, “Institutions, Strategic Restraint, and the Persistence of American Postwar Order,” International Security 23, no. 3 (1998–99): 43–78. 70 David Skidmore, “The Obama Presidency and US Foreign Policy: Where’s the Multilateralism?,” International Studies Perspectives 13, no. 1 (2012): 44–5. 71 Keren Yarhi-Milo, “After Credibility: American Foreign Policy in the Trump Era,” Foreign Affairs (January–February 2018), https://www. foreignaffairs.com/articles/2017-12-12/after-credibility; Daniel W. Drezner, “This Time Is Different: Why US Foreign Policy Will Never Recover,” Foreign Affairs (May–June 2019), https://www.foreignaffairs.com/ articles/2019-04-16/time-different; Stephen M. Walt, “The Tragedy of Trump’s Foreign Policy,” Foreign Policy (5 March 2019), https://foreignpolicy.com/2019/03/05/the-tragedy-of-trumps-foreign-policy. 72 Joshua Busby, Craig Kafura, Jonathan Monten, and Jordan Tama, “Multilateralism and the Use of Force: Experimental Evidence on the Views of Foreign Policy Elites,” Foreign Policy Analysis 16, no. 1 (2020): 118–29. 73 Berdahl and Raney, “Being Canadian in the World,” 1004. 74 Paris, “Are Canadians Still Liberal Internationalists?” 303. 75 Ibid., 302–5; Canada’s World Survey 2018: Final Report (Toronto: Environics Institute, 2018), 14. 76 Barry R. Posen, “Pull Back: The Case for a Less Activist Foreign Policy,” Foreign Affairs 92, no. 1 (2013): 116–28. 77 Aaron Ettinger, “Trump’s National Security Strategy: ‘America First’ Meets the Establishment,” International Journal 73, no. 3 (2018): 474–83. 78 Jeffrey Goldberg, “The Obama Doctrine,” The Atlantic Magazine, April 2016, https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2016/04/ the-obama-doctrine/471525. 79 Shore, “No Fences Make Good Neighbours,” 338–9; Greaves, “Democracy, Donald Trump, and the Canada–US Security Community,” 10–14. 80 Josef Braml and Hans-Joachim Lauth, “The United States of America – A Deficient Democracy,” in Regression of Democracy?, ed. G. Erdmann and M. Kneuer (Weisbaden: Springer Verlag, 2011), 103–32. 81 Vincent Warren, “The 9/11 Decade and the Decline of US Democracy,” Center for Constitutional Rights, 2011, https://ccrjustice.org/home/ blog/2015/11/17/911-decade-and-decline-us-democracy. 82 Jeffrey R. Lax and Justin H. Phillips, “The Democratic Deficit in the States,” American Journal of Political Science 56, no. 1 (2012): 148–66.

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83 Economist Intelligence Unit, “Democracy Index 2016: Revenge of the ‘deplorables,’” (London: The Economist, 2017). 84 Ibid., 14. 85 Freedom House, “United States,” in Freedom in the World 2020 (Washington, dc : Freedom House, 2020), https://freedomhouse.org/ country/united-states/freedom-world/2020. 86 Mike Abramowitz, “The Struggle Comes Home: Attacks on Democracy in the United States,” in Freedom in the World 2019: Democracy in Retreat (Washington dc : Freedom House, 2019), https://freedomhouse.org/report/ freedom-world/freedom-world-2019/democracy-in-retreat; Center for Systemic Peace, “Democracy Cannot Be Defended by Force: It Is Enforced through Accountability,” (2020), systemicpeace.org/index.html. 87 Catherine Kim, “Poll: 70 percent of Republicans don’t think the election was free and fair,” Politico (9 November 2020), https://www.politico.com/ news/2020/11/09/republicans-free-fair-elections-435488; Philip Rucker, Ashley Parker, Josh Dawsey, and Amy Gardner, “20 days of fantasy and failure: Inside Trump’s quest to overturn the election,” Washington Post, 28 November 2020, https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/trumpelection-overturn/2020/11/28/34f45226-2f47-11eb-96c2-aac3f162215d_ story.html. 88 Greaves, “Democracy, Donald Trump, and the Canada–US Security Community,” 10–14. 89 Roberto Stefan Foa and Yascha Mounk, “The Signs of Deconsolidation,” Journal of Democracy 28, no. 4 (2017): 5–15; Paul Howe, “Eroding Norms and Democratic Deconsolidation,” Journal of Democracy 28, no. 4 (2017): 15–29. 90 Carroll, “Who Owns Democracy?,” 273–4. 91 Philip Bump, “fBI Director Wray reconfirms the threat posed by racist extremists,” Washington Post, 2 March 2021, https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2021/03/02/fbi-director-wray-reconfirms-threat-posedby-racist-extremists; Elaine Kamarck, “The challenging politics of climate change,” Brookings Institute Report, 2019, https://www.brookings.edu/ research/the-challenging-politics-of-climate-change. For a contrasting perspective, see Stephanie Rugolo, “Human Security in the United States,” (2020), https://www.cato.org/publications/human-security-united-states. 92 Shore, “No Fences Make Good Neighbours,” 355–6.

12 The Securitization and Internationalization of Quebec’s Public Security Policy, 2001–19 Jean-Christophe Boucher, Jean-François Payette, and Stéphane Roussel

The 9/11 attacks brought about profound changes in security policies in most states, especially in the West, albeit to varying degrees. Canada is no exception, as several of the chapters in this book argue. Less well-known, however, is the impact of these policies on Canadian provinces. By virtue of the Canadian constitutions, provinces have little say in this matter because security and, above all, defence issues are the responsibility of the federal government. However, provinces do have constitutional powers in the field of public security to protect citizens from internal threats, especially those of a constabulary nature or arising from outside the province from other parts of Canada. The federal government, for its part, is meant to deal with threats external to the entire state. The 9/11 attacks on New York and Washington, dc , partly nullified this interior/exterior distinction1 and upset this separation of powers. It is in Quebec that we find the most complete expression of a desire to exercise these security powers in the field of public safety.2 In the fall of 2001, the Quebec government was faced with the problems caused by the near-closure of the border with the United States. It sought to reassure the American authorities that it was safe to resume cross-border activities. Provinces, however, do not have this authority. Nevertheless, in this area, as in many others, Quebec stands out from other Canadian provinces. Quebec’s initiatives culminated in the publication of a policy

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document (the equivalent of a “white paper”) on international relations in 2006.3 That a province published such an “international policy” is, in itself, a rare phenomenon;4 that it has a “security” component is even more unusual.5 This security theme was not an isolated example for Quebec: the policy paper that followed in 2017 devoted sections to this subject, and the 2019 one renewed these commitments. This chapter focuses on this phenomenon of “securitization” of certain activities and the “internationalization” of the concerns expressed by the Quebec government, especially post-9/11. “Securitization” here refers to the process whereby a social actor succeeds in transforming a social or economic issue into a “security problem,” thus allowing the state to use means to deal with what is perceived as a threat.6 Internationalization refers to the process whereby these security concerns are inserted into an international rather than a national security policy. We begin by describing the Quebec government’s policy from 2001 to 2019, which was the year the most recent international policy statement was published. We then analyze the constitutional logic that has allowed Quebec to insert itself into the field of security. After that, we examine why the Quebec government developed an international security policy in the first place. Quebec is a rather minor player in the vast North American complex; even so, this case has notable features since Quebec is one of the few non-sovereign states that has launched, on its own initiative, international security initiatives.

t h e s e c u rI tIz a tIo n of que Bec’s I n t e r n a tIo n a l p o lI cy (q Ip) In September 2001, Quebec was led by a Parti Québécois government under Bernard Landry. His initial response was similar to that of many other governments: after expressing sympathy for the American people, the Quebec government sought to reassure its own people. Emergency plans were updated, with public places that might be subject to attack – for example, places of worship or the Montreal Metro – receiving special attention.7 No extraordinary measures were immediately taken; all of these initiatives were about maintaining internal public safety within the purview of the provincial and municipal police.

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The 2006 QIP Not until five years after the 9/11 attacks, and three years after Jean Charest’s Liberal government was elected (in April 2003), did Quebec’s unique response to 9/11 became apparent. The slow management of this policy is explained by the fact that it required numerous consultations and discussions, including with US elected officials. For example, in May 2004, Quebec’s international relations minister Monique Gagnon-Tremblay travelled to Washington to discuss security-related issues with the US Department of State. The following year, in April 2005, Quebec Premier Charest discussed the issue with Michael Chertoff, the US Secretary of Homeland Security.8 It is in this context that on 24 May 2006, the Government of Quebec published a new and somewhat surprising policy document titled Quebec’s International Policy: Working in Concert. Its purpose was to outline the province’s priorities in international affairs. Especially noteworthy about this document is its statement that future international activities of the Government of Quebec would focus on security issues, namely by “contributing to the security of Québec and the North American continent.”9 It breaks with the past by proposing to develop an international capacity in terms of “public security”10 that would expand beyond the usual sphere of public safety. In a related document produced in November 2006, the province confirmed its ambitions by noting that “the responsibilities that Québec assumes over its territory ... makes it a key player in the hierarchy of interventions necessary to maintain national security and build a safer world ... Québec will do its part in meeting commonly shared continent-wide and international security objectives.”11 Quebec’s 2006 international policy statement could have remained on paper as an example of a straw policy produced by a bureaucracy in search of a mission. However, the Government of Quebec deployed significant resources to implement its newly minted international policy. The policy formulation process was invested with clear instructions to identify ministries responsible for executing the security initiatives outlined in the document as well as various milestones to facilitate policy evaluation. Thus, the Ministère des Relations Internationales (mrI ) published two action plans encompassing the years 2006–09 and 2009–14, which highlighted

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priorities and targets.12 Furthermore, the mrI produced six “progress reports,” one for each year between 2006 and 2012, to assess how well the Government of Quebec was executing its action plans and to indicate the various challenges encountered by the responsible ministries. Action Plan 2006–2009 followed closely the priorities and objectives laid out in Quebec’s white paper. Thus, it highlighted two principal priorities related to security issues. The first priority identified was to ensure rapid and reliable access to strategic information and to contribute to non-military security work, at both regional and international events. In hindsight, this priority dealt with Quebec’s internationalization of its security apparatus and the province’s general engagement with the world (mostly, but not exclusively, with states of the US Northeast) by signing agreements and participating in international forums that discussed non-military security issues. As we will see in more detail in the next section, Quebec signed agreements to exchange information and cooperate in security matters with four US states (Vermont: 2003, 2010, 2013; Maine: 2004, 2013; New Hampshire: 2004; New York: 2004, 2008), as well as with Massachusetts (2007). In this respect, the mrI is responsible for overseeing and conducting international relations with foreign partners.13 The second priority established by Action Plan 2006–2009 concerns the fluid and secure circulation of people and merchandise at the canus /Quebec border as well as the reinforcement of critical infrastructure in Quebec. This priority dealt mostly with strengthening Quebec’s domestic actions against external threats and improving its security infrastructure. Action Plan 2009–2014 significantly changed how security issues were addressed under Quebec’s international affairs agenda. The theme of security, so central to the 2006–9 plan, was subsumed as a focal point of Quebec’s strategy with respect to the United States. The document identifies two main priorities of the Government of Quebec regarding security matters: to continue Quebec’s security-related efforts with its US partners, and to set up a program to fight transborder crime.14 In this regard, the securitization of Quebec’s international policy after 2010 is narrower and falls exclusively under the Quebec Government Strategy to the US, also published in 2010.15 In its US strategy, Quebec asserts that it will contribute to the security of the North American continent.

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I m p l e m e n tIn g the q I p o n t h e I n t e r n a tIonal s tage On matters related to security issues, Quebec had signed different types of international agreements which fell into three categories. First, between 2003 and 2007, the Government of Quebec signed agreements related to the transfer of information destined for the execution of the law and the protection of public safety with the states of Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, and Massachusetts in order to “establish a mutually beneficial partnership to reinforce the internal security of Canada and the United States and protect their shared border.”16 Second, the Government of Quebec signed a cooperation agreement in 2004 with the state of New York – replaced by an expanded version in 2008 – regarding matters related to homeland security. The Quebec–New York agreement was more extensive than other agreements with US states; it included such items as reinforcing transborder cooperation between police forces as well as relevant public safety apparatus; sharing information related to both terrorism and criminal activities that could endanger the populations and critical infrastructures of Quebec and the state of New York; and participating in exchange programs and conducting joint exercises. The Quebec–New York agreement aimed to engage the two partners in a formal relationship in which Quebec would accentuate the securitization of its international policy. Finally, Quebec’s commitment to engage international partners on matters related to security was not restricted to the states immediately to its south. In 2011, the province signed a joint declaration with the German state of Bavaria to encourage collaboration on security matters such as terrorism, organized crime, illegal drug trafficking, prostitution and human trafficking, extortion, and child and juvenile pornography.17 At the regional level, Quebec tried to increase its international representation at security-related forums by participating in a series of associations and regional initiatives. Quebec was already engaged with the United States through permanent representatives and bureaux in Washington, dc , New York, Boston, Chicago, Los Angeles, and Atlanta. Quebec also monitored the work of the Organization of American States (oas ) through its Washington bureau, especially on sectoral issues of public security and justice, in order to contribute to strengthening the security of the North American continent. Expressly on the issue of security, Quebec has

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been steadily increasing its involvement in the annual Conferences of New England Governors and Eastern Canadian Premiers. Also, Quebec, along with ten US states, Ontario, and New Brunswick, is contributing to the Northeast Regional Homeland Security Directors Consortium. The consortium’s mandate is to increase collaboration and information sharing between its members on matters of security and anti-terrorist activities. Quebec has been a strong advocate for a regional strategy on border security that reinforced partnership between northeastern US states, the US government through the dhs , and the federal government in Ottawa. Von Hlatky and Trisko argue convincingly that Quebec’s activism on border security helped drive regional initiatives that instituted “layered security cooperation” between Canada and the United States.18 In real terms, Quebec was contributing to national and regional security and was working with its various Canadian and US partners to further integrate border policies. Rather more modestly, Quebec is pursuing representation at the international level beyond North America, specifically with Francophone countries. For example, Quebec was a founding member of the Réseau international francophone de formation policière (francopol ) in 2008. Its mission is “to promote the pooling of best practices, encourage research and reflection on police expertise and formation ... francopol also aims at increasing the competence of law enforcement agencies to better serve its citizens.”19 By helping establish francopol , Quebec engaged with France and Belgium on matters of security. Meanwhile, Quebec’s provincial police, the Sûreté du Québec (sq ), invested resources to bolster its international presence. As early as 2003, a senior sq inspector was posted in Paris, mainly to network with French intelligence agencies. That person’s responsibilities varied, but included establishing contact with French intelligence agencies, representing the sq at international conferences, coordinating the deployment of police officers in foreign countries, and maintaining and expanding the sq –European network.20 Quebec has been playing an active role in international security by lending its resources, namely from the sq , to peacekeeping efforts around the world. These initiatives are usually in conjunction with federal governments, but Quebec insists that its provincial police officers deployed on UN peacekeeping missions are “provincial” representatives. Since 2004, Quebec has participated in UN peacekeeping efforts in Haiti and Ivory Coast.

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In 2017, the Government of Quebec published a new international policy statement in which security appears as one of eleven priorities, broken down into five components: 1 Work closely with North American partners to prevent security risks while at the same time promoting the efficient movement of people and goods; 2 Pursue efforts to establish and maintain cooperation mechanisms and share expertise in the areas of emergency management, prevention, investigation, and prosecution; 3 Establish and strengthen international partnerships in response to threats such as transnational organized crime and radicalization leading to violence; 4 Contribute to the reinforcement of cybersecurity cooperation; and 5 Prevent and contain the international propagation of infectious diseases and the risk of pandemics.21 The reformulation of these priorities testifies to the emergence of a new concern for cross-border security, namely the new focus on radicalization as a result of 9/11, which saw several Canadians seek to join the jihad in Iraq and Syria and to carry out terrorist attacks on Quebec soil. In October 2015, a caf soldier was killed and a second injured in a car-ramming attack in St-Jean-sur-le-Richelieu (see the chapters by Andrea Charron and Nabila de la Cruz-Garcia and Shannon Nash). Furthermore, since 2017, Quebec has been confronted with a problem that it had not earlier faced, at least seriously, namely the highly publicized arrival at the canus border of an increasing number of migrants claiming refugee status. Although the security aspect of this migration is questionable and has been contested, various media outlets, as well as some political figures and members of the public, have interpreted the phenomenon through the prism of transborder security.22 The 2019 statement is an update by the Coalition Avenir Québec government, elected the previous year. That document does not address security, but it does underscore that the new government intends to follow the guidelines defined by its predecessor in 2017.23

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Thus, although the efforts initiated during the 2006–10 period were not pursued with the same intensity, the interest shown by the Government of Quebec in security issues has continued. What explains this interest?

t he l o gIc o f q u eB e c ’ s s ecur I ty pol I cy: t h e e x p a n sIo n o f s e c urI ty and the c o n s tIt u t I on That a federated state carries out activities in the field of internal security is not unusual, but its implementation deployed at the local level, be it prevention, law enforcement, or responses to major incidents, is different. Canada’s police forces are organized in a way that reflects a certain division in levels of intervention. Quebec, Ontario, and Newfoundland and Labrador, as well as many municipalities and Indigenous communities, have their own police services. Only Quebec, however, has securitized and internationalized security. The capacity of the Government of Quebec to engage in such a process stems from constitutional considerations. The division of powers between the central and provincial governments was specified in sections 91 to 95 of the British North America Act (Bnaa ). Article 91 lists the twenty-nine powers that are the exclusive jurisdiction of the federal government; Article 92 lists sixteen issues that are the exclusive jurisdiction of the provinces; Articles 92a , 94, and 95 define the areas of jurisdiction shared by the two governments, including agriculture, immigration, and the exploitation of natural resources. However, the 1867 Constitution was silent on international relations, for at that time, they were under the sole jurisdiction of the British Empire. Accordingly, in the early 1960s the Government of Quebec claimed the right and responsibility to carry out activities on the international stage that were within its exclusive or shared competences. This right, which Quebec defends to this day, is called the “Gérin–Lajoie Doctrine,” after the Minister of Education who formulated it in April 1965. Since then, Quebec has engaged in paradiplomacy in a wide range of functional (economic development, energy, health) and identity-based (education, culture) interests; this arguably makes the province one of the most active subnational entities on the international scene.24

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Defence is under federal jurisdiction (Article 91.7). However, Articles 92.14 (“The Administration of Justice in the Province, including the Constitution, Maintenance, and Organization of Provincial Courts, both of civil and of criminal Jurisdiction, and including Procedure in Civil Matters in those Courts”) and 92.1 (“The Imposition of Punishment by Fine, Penalty, or Imprisonment for enforcing any Law of the Province”) of the 1867 Constitution confer certain powers to the provinces. This has allowed the Quebec government to broaden the application of the concept of security and, above all, to extend the activities that result from this enlargement onto the international scene – that is, internationalization. To support its engagement in the area of security, the Government of Quebec has argued that the world faces new and atypical security challenges that require states and subnational states to devise new policies and expand the understanding of what security means and how it can be achieved. Thus, Quebec in 2006 identified six key security threats that compelled the government to enhance and expand its international policy: terrorism, transnational organized crime, border security, public health (including the fight against pandemics), environmental risks, and natural disasters. “Securitization,” then, is a double process whereby the Government of Quebec purposefully attempts to characterize specific dimensions as needing protection from dangers, such as pandemics, terrorism, environmental disasters, food shortages, access to water, immigration, and the abolishment of the external/internal limits of state sovereignty where security threats permeate and transcend the sole responsibility of the sovereign state (here, Canada). Furthermore, Quebec has identified broader concerns and its capacity to protect its own citizens. To be sure, this understanding of security plays to Quebec’s strength by emphasizing policy domains, such as health care and the environment, which were allocated to the provinces in 1867. Far from challenging Ottawa’s jurisdiction on traditional security issues, Quebec argues that these new security challenges fall under the province’s responsibility. The Government of Quebec contends that all of these “new” security threats relate to legislative competences that the constitution has conferred on provinces. In this regard, Quebec argues that although “sovereign states must deal with traditional wars ... preventing and handling new sources of danger often depends on

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federated states and local communities.”25 This is especially the case when these security threats are related to health care, environmental issues, natural disasters, or the administration of justice. Quebec defends its legislative right to act and develop policies on these issues in its domestic and international areas of responsibility. In other words, if the federal government is responsible for legislating and dealing with the international ramifications of traditional security matters, the provinces are fully competent and sovereign to address international problems that fall under their constitutional jurisdiction and that have been securitized. Following this line of reasoning, Quebec’s International Policy Statement notes that within the Canadian federal context, national security involves a range of different powers, some provincial, and some federal. The powers exercised by the provinces regarding the administration of justice, public safety, health care, the environment and agriculture reflect the important role they play in building a more secure world.26 Notwithstanding the frictions between Ottawa and Quebec that led to the implementation of the Gérin–Lajoie Doctrine in the 1960s, however, security cooperation between the two levels of government was more harmonious in the decade following 9/11.27 This lack of jurisdictional wrangling is probably what prompted Quebec to invest in this area of activity. It probably would not have been possible were it not for the spotlight that 9/11 turned toward the protection of North America generally.

r a tI o n a lIt y a n d Ident I ty Why is it that the Government of Quebec wants to occupy, more insistently than any other province, the field of security and carry its actions onto the international scene for the past ten years? Indeed, this desire has been maintained steadily by governments of three different allegiances – the Liberal Party of Quebec, the Parti Québécois,28 and Coalition Avenir Quebec. Two reasons are suggested here, and together they probably explain why. Historically, both reasons have been linked to the expression of Quebec’s national identity. That is what has prompted the provincial government to invest in international relations.29

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It is interesting to study the securitization shift of 2006 through the lens of Quebec’s search for and affirmation of an independent identity. Professor Didier Bigo correctly recognized that “securitization discourses” involve more than simply identifying specific and evolving security issues that may challenge states and their populations. States and subnational states select or highlight “what is a problem of security and what is not a problem, what is fatality, what is opportunity of change, and what is a political, social, or security problem.”30 One result is that securitization discourses generate a rather fuzzy us versus them mindset and create and reinforce the identity of communities, in this case of Quebec’s society.31 As Bélanger also noted: “Some noncentral governments are pursuing paradiplomacy in the name of identity-based interests. In those cases, the existence of a common identity and of a certain kind of ‘national interest’ gives coherence and continuity to the involvement in international affairs, while subjecting it to the politics of identity and nation-building.”32 By engaging forcefully in a securitization narrative, Quebec deepens the formation and affirmation of a specific identity, different from what Ottawa exports. An identity-based explanation tells us why this security process has been conducted as part of an international policy statement rather than as part of a national security policy. The target audience seems to be more external than internal. This security policy does not stem from a demand from civil society, nor was it in the 1960s when Quebec entered the international arena. 33 Most Quebecers have little interest in these issues, and in the months and years following the 9/11 attacks, they did not express any particular concerns about the threat posed by terrorism. From this perspective, securitization and internationalization go hand in hand, one reinforcing the other. However, this explanation has a weakness: it is diffuse as well as difficult to demonstrate empirically. It can and indeed must be supplemented in terms of rational calculation and functional objectives. Quebec’s international policy statements certainly play an identity role, but they also place a great deal of emphasis on economic and commercial matters, to the point where some of them, such as those of 1991 and 2019, sound more like trade policy than actual international policy. Immediately after 9/11, one of the main concerns in Quebec City was to ensure continued cross-border trade flows. This concern reappeared in the 2006 statement and continued to grow in importance

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in the various action plans for maintaining cross-border trade, to the detriment of measures to ensure internal security. In 2010, trade relations with the United States were unquestionably the main concern of Quebec’s international security policy, given that it was also included in Quebec’s Government Strategy for the United States. Hence, Quebec’s security policy is mainly concerned with maintaining economic relations with the United States. Because Quebec’s economy is so heavily dependent on cooperative and open access to US markets, the government is essentially reacting to a security imperative dictated by external factors (i.e., US threat perceptions; see the chapters by Macdonald and Ayres, Budning and Hampson, and others). Thus, security issues are viewed through an instrumental lens as a means to increase Quebec’s prosperity.34 In this respect, Quebec’s action plan focuses the government’s international actions on border security. Quebec’s strategy vis-à-vis the United States and its Action Plan 2009–2014 identify two main priorities of the Government of Quebec on security matters: to continue Quebec’s security-related efforts with its US partners, and to set up a program to fight transborder crime.35 In the 2017 policy announcement, this Quebec/US dimension was clearly present: The Government of Québec takes actions and supports, where appropriate, Canadian and American government initiatives to facilitate the flow of people and goods through such means as pre-clearance systems and facilities and investments in border infrastructure while at the same time strengthening continental security in a manner respectful of the rights of citizens. Québec also aims to ensure that train stations and airports within in its boundaries and that the border it shares with four American states are given the priority that reflects their importance in the implementation of these initiatives.36 The emphasis placed on the commercial dimension and on maintaining good relations with the United States, rather than on the identity aspects of this policy, explain the absence of tension between Ottawa and Quebec, as well as the ease with which the two governments have been able to collaborate. Indeed, the two governments have pursued similar objectives. According to Stéfanie Von Hlatky and Jessica Trisko, “the actions of Quebec have enhanced Canada’s

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position vis-à-vis the United States because of a clear alignment in the policy objectives of these two actors.”37 At the same time, this could support Ben Rowswell’s suggestion that Quebec–Canada relations in international affairs are highly cooperative on issues that are not related to identity.38

c o n c l u sI on The securitization and internationalization processes in Quebec after 9/11 are intriguing, for few federated governments have followed a similar path. This phenomenon is all the more striking given that these processes continued from 2006 to 2019 despite changes of government in 2012, 2014, and 2018. So it seems to have entailed a consensus among the political elite and therefore has not generated any debate within civil society. While not all of the plans and actions contained in the various Quebec proposals came to fruition, Quebec did assign resources to many of them, and the Quebec’s policies cannot be dismissed as empty. The audience targeted by the Quebec government’s security discourse seems to have been US leaders, both in Washington and in the states, especially those in the northeast. In this, the interests of Quebec differ neither from those of the Canadian federal government nor from those of the other provinces whose prosperity depends just as much on trade with the United States. The question therefore remains: what has motivated Quebec to act so differently from other provinces? Identity considerations, briefly discussed here, certainly play a role. But there are other factors that require more research, including the different conceptions in Quebec of the role and responsibilities of the state, and even bureaucratic interests that push the Quebec state to occupy as much security policy space as it does. Regardless, this unique take on security is another indication that Quebec society and the state maintain a “strategic culture” that, without necessarily being in opposition to that of other Canadians, remains distinct in certain aspects. It has been prompted, however, in large part, because of the scale and consequences of 9/11.

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no t e s 1 Didier Bigo, “The Möbius Ribbon of Internal and External Security(ies),” in Identities, Borders, Orders: Rethinking International Relations Theory, ed. M. Albert D. Jacobson and Y. Lapid (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2001), 91–116. 2 For a comparison with other provinces, see Christian Leuprecht, ed., America’s Open Border Paradox: Nuanced Strategy in Managing Bilateral Security (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2023). 3 Government of Quebec, Québec’s International Policy: Working in Concert (Quebéc: Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec, 2006). Hereafter qip 2006. 4 The government of Quebec did it twice before 2006: Ministère des Relations internationales, Le Québec dans le monde. Le défi de l’interdépendance (énonce de politique internationale du Québec) (Quebéc: Gouvernment du Québec, 1985); Ministère des Affaires internationales, Le Québec et l’interdépendance. Le monde pour horizon (Éléments d’une politique d’affaires internationales) (Québec: Gouvernment du Québec, 1991). 5 Nelson Michaud, “La politique internationale du Québec et les questions de sécurité,” Policy Options (July–August 2006): 59–62. 6 Ole Waever, “Securization and Desecurization,” in On Security, ed. Ronnie D. Lipschutz (New York: Columbia University Press, 1995), 46–86. 7 Jean-François Payette, “Tentative de représentation des impacts des attentats du 11 septembre 2011 sur le Québec: perspectives de membres du gouvernement de l’époque,” in Vous avez dit terrorisme ! Le 11 septembre ébranle les consciences, ed. Jean-François Payette and Lawrence Olivier (Montréal: Fides, 2011), 217–40. 8 Ministère des Relations internationales et de la Francophonie, Chronology and Legislative Foundations, http://www.mrif.gouv.qc.ca/en/ministere/ historique/chronologie-et-fondements-legislatifs. 9 qip 2006, 76. 10 As Christian Leuprecht noted, “Quebec refers to public security whereas the rest of Canada tends to refer to public safety. The distinction turns out to be more than just semantics. For instance, security commonly refers to threats to territorial integrity and sovereignty, but Quebec’s conception is broader than that, in part because it has a different, more dirigiste, understanding of the state and its obligation towards citizens.” Leuprecht, forthcoming 2023.

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11 Government of Quebec, Playing a Role in Building a More Secure World or the Security Challenge Facing Québec (Quebéc: Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec, 2006), 2, emphasis added. 12 Government of Quebec, La Politique internationale du Québec. Plan d’action 2006–2009 (Quebéc: Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec, 2006); Government of Quebec, La Politique internationale du Québec. Plan d’action 2009–2014 (Quebéc: Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec, 2009). 13 Government of Quebec, Plan d’action 2006–2009. 14 Government of Quebec, Québec’s International Policy: Measures for 2009– 2010 (Quebéc: Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec, 2010). 15 Government of Quebec, Quebec’s Government Strategy to the US (Quebéc: Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec, 2010). 16 Protocole Complémentaire à l’Accord de coopération entre le Gouvernement du Québec et le Gouvernement de l’État du Vermont relative à l’échange de renseignements destinés à l’exécution de la loi. Preamble, 4 December 2003. 17 It is surprising that Quebec and Bavaria maintain close relations. This relationship can be explained not only by certain similarities in the international identity ambitions of the two states, but also by the activities of individual politicians, such as Bernard Landry and Jean Charest. David Sauriol, L’identité dans les relations internationales du Québec : le cas des relations québec-bavière, ma thesis, Université du Québec à Montréal, 2007; Ingo Kolboom, “Partenaires sans le savoir? Réalités et opportunités d’un rapprochement germano-québécois,” in Les relations internationales du Québec depuis la Doctrine Gérin-Lajoie (1965–2005), ed. Stéphane Paquin, Louise Beaudoin, Robert Comeau, and Guy Lachapelle (Québec: Les Presses de l’Université Laval, 2010), 195–213. 18 Stéfanie Von Hlatky and Jessica N. Trisko, “Sharing the Burden of the Border: Layered Security Co-operation and the Canada–US Frontier,” Canadian Journal of Political Science 45, no. 1 (2012): 63–88. 19 francopol , “Présentation de Francopol,” 19 February 2021, http:// francopol.org/sinformer-sur-francopol/a-propos (our translation). 20 Payette, “Tentative de représentation,” 229–32. 21 Government of Quebec, Québec on the World Stage: Involved, Engaged, Thriving: Québec’s International Policy (Québec: Ministère des Relations internationales et de la Francophonie, 2017). 22 David Morin, Stéphane Roussel, and Carolina Reyes Marquez, “The Politicization of Québec’s Border Security,” in Christian Leuprecht, ed., forthcoming 2023.

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23 Government of Quebec, Proud and Doing Business around the World! Québec’s International Vision (Québec: Ministère des Relations internationales et de la Francophonie, 2019), 4. 24 Kim Richard Nossal, Stéphane Roussel, and Stéphane Paquin, The Politics of Canadian Foreign Policy (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2015), 356–7; Louis Bélanger, “The Domestic Politics of Quebec’s Quest for External Distinctiveness,” in Contemporary Quebec: Selected Readings and Commentaries, ed. Michael D. Behiels and Matthew Hayday (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2011); Jean-François Payette and Stéphane Roussel, “Nordicity and Quebec Arctic Diplomacy,” in Mapping Arctic Paradiplomacy – Limits and Opportunities for Sub-National Actors in Arctic Governance, ed. Mathieu Landriault, Jean-François Payette, and Stéphane Roussel (Abingdon: Routledge, 2021), 17–35. 25 Government of Quebec, Playing a Role in Building a More Secure World or the Security Challenge Facing Québec (Québec: Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec, 2006), 67. 26 Ibid. 27 Jean-François Payette, Politique étrangère du Québec. Entre mythe et réalité (Quebéc and Paris: Presses de l’Université Laval/Éditions Hermann, 2020), 26–9; Payette, “Tentative de représentation,” 229–32; Von Hlatky and Trisko, “Sharing the Burden.” 28 The Parti Québécois was briefly in power from 2012 to 2014 and was unable to publish a policy statement. It was preparing to present its own “American strategy” but lost the Fall 2014 election. 29 Kim Richard Nossal, Stéphane Roussel, and Stéphane Paquin, Politics of Canadian Foreign Policy, 4th ed. (Montreal and Kingston: McGillQueen’s University Press, 2015), 352 (see also 354). The concept of paradiplomacy refers to international activities conducted by a nonsovereign government. On identity as the main driver for Quebec’s paradiplomacy, see also Bélanger, “The Domestic Politics.” 30 Bigo, “The Möbius Ribbon,” 92. 31 Mark B. Slater, “Canadian Border Policy as Foreign Policy: Security, Policing, Management,” in Canadian Foreign Policy in Critical Perspective, ed. J. Marshall Beier and Lana Wylie (Toronto: Oxford University Press, 2010), 72–82. 32 Bélanger, The Domestic Politics, 762 33 Luc Bernier, De Paris à Washington: la politique internationale du Québec (Montréal : Presses de l’Université du Québec, 1996). 34 Government of Quebec, Quebec’s Government Strategy to the US.

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Government of Quebec, Québec’s International Policy. Government of Quebec, 2017, section 3.2.5. Von Hlatky and Trisko, Sharing the Burden, 64. Ben Rowswell, “The Federal Context: Ottawa as Padlock or Partner?,” in Contemporary Quebec: Selecting Readings and Commentaries, ed. Michael Behiels and Matthew Hayday (Montreal and Kingston: McGillQueen’s University Press, 2011), 778.

13 The Post-9/11 Reorganization of Canada’s National Security Infrastructure John Gilmour

The 9/11 attacks had a significant impact on the Canadian government’s policy agenda. Safety and security issues uncharacteristically rocketed to the top of the policy batting order, particularly with regard to the role civilian agencies would play in mitigating the threat posed by transnational terrorism. 9/11 resulted in unprecedented changes to Canadian federal policy and processes, with most of the corresponding organizational changes occurring after December 2003, under the incoming Liberal government of Paul Martin, which adopted Canada’s first and only national security strategy, titled Securing an Open Society: Canada’s National Security Policy, in April 2004. This chapter traces those changes. It begins with the US changes and the corresponding Canadian changes to debunk the myth that Canada’s were simply a replication of US efforts. In the academic and media communities, there have been two common perceptions regarding why Canada organized its national security infrastructure the way it did post-9/11. The first assumption is that Canada simply set out to replicate the organizational restructuring that was taking place in the United States at the time, the creation of the dhs being the best example. The second assumption, which is somewhat related, is that reorganization was required in order to mitigate the impact related to the “stove-piping” of information and intelligence among Canadian agencies. The inability or unwillingness of US agencies to share information among themselves was identified by the 9/11 Commission Report1 as a principal reason why the US government failed to anticipate the 9/11 attacks. In Canada, it was assumed that challenges with information and

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intelligence sharing existed among security agencies here as well; by extension, those challenges must have been key drivers behind the reorganization of this country’s national security infrastructure. In fact, while similar broad policy objectives served as an impetus behind reorganizational efforts in the United States and Canada, how those objectives were ultimately achieved in the two countries displayed significant differences in structure and rationale. I contend that those differences were sufficient to undermine the present-day view that the Canadian government was merely mimicking US efforts. And while the means by which the 9/11 attacks were undertaken were just as much of a shock to Canadian national security agencies, there is little evidence that those agencies faced the same level of pre-9/11 systemic stove-piping when it came to sharing information regarding transnational terrorism. To support this argument, I will first examine the three main organizational efforts undertaken by the George W. Bush administration – the creation of the dhs , the office of the Director of National Intelligence (dnI ), and the National Counter-Terrorism Center (nctc ) – and then consider how comparable Canadian organizational initiatives were undertaken.

o r g a nIz a tI o n a l I n ItIat Ives w It hI n t h e u nIted states Prior to 9/11, US federal agencies with national security, law enforcement, intelligence collection, and/or emergency response mandates were already well-positioned to deal with transnational terrorism. A series of terrorist-related events, from the 1983 bombing of the US Marine barracks in Beirut to the attack on the uss Cole in 2000, had raised the profile of transnational terrorism within US agencies, even resulting in efforts to enhance inter-agency integration and establish terrorist-related fusion cells. As noted by Pillar, “while the audacity and the enormity of the attacks made the threat seem new to many, the who, what, why, where and even most of the how of the attacks were not new.”2 In 2000, the US counter-terrorism budget was already $10 billion.3 The 9/11 Commission Report noted that, notwithstanding these stronger efforts at inter-agency cooperation, the various agencies were unable or unwilling to share and coordinate the information they held so that a complete and timely “all-source” threat picture could be

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developed. The difficulty getting serious policy traction regarding the nature of the threat as no longer limited to “over there” was another contributing factor. Consequently, after 9/11, three agencies were created and assigned the task of improving coordination and consultation between existing agencies. The Office of Homeland Security (founded on 20 September 2001), later renamed the Department of Homeland Security (November 2002), was established in the aftermath of 9/11. This was one of the Bush administration’s first initiatives in its broader gwot (see Shannon Nash’s chapter). Its creation was characterized as “the most significant transformation of the US government in over half a century,” yet at its founding, there were no preconceptions about what it would look like.4 Under a single Cabinet position, the dhs ultimately brought together twenty-two existing agencies charged with border and transportation security (“who and what enters the homeland”5), emergency preparedness and response (including the Federal Emergency Management Agency; fema ), chemical, biological, radiological, and nuclear  (cBrn ) countermeasures and responses, the protection of critical infrastructure, cybersecurity, information analysis, and various “outlier” agencies, such as the Secret Service and the US Coast Guard – all without “growing government.” The first dhs secretary, Pennsylvania’s Governor Tom Ridge, described the newly created dhs as a holding company, with complex relationships among existing enterprises, mergers, acquisitions, and start-ups, and with a focus on a new collective mission, albeit in parallel with traditional mandates.6 He described its role as that of providing management and coordination of policy, program, and “architecture” development; its overarching mandate was to prevent terrorist attacks within the United States, reduce vulnerability to terrorism, and ensure recovery from attacks that did occur. It also assumed primary responsibility for coordinating federal efforts with state and local responders.7 Responsibility for domestic law enforcement and intelligence collection abroad remained with the Department of Justice (fBI ) and the cIa respectively. (For a detailed analysis of Canada’s policing changes post-9/11, see Veronica Kitchen’s excellent chapter). In response to underlying concerns regarding the sharing and coordination of intelligence, the 9/11 Commission Report8 recommended that inter-agency coordination no longer fall to the cIa Director (d/cIa ) but rather to a newly created (another level of bureaucracy)

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Director of National Intelligence (dnI ). That person’s role would be to “oversee national intelligence centers on specific subjects of interest across the US government and to manage the national intelligence program and oversee the agencies that contribute to it.”9 The dnI position was formally created under the National Security Intelligence Reform Act of 2004. While the dnI had managerial oversight of civilian agencies under the National Intelligence Program (nIp ) budget, those intelligence organizations with remits under the Secretary of Defense (with their substantially larger budgets, between 75 to 80 per cent of the intelligence budget10) remained within the Department of Defense (d od ). The dnI was “to manage and direct the tasking of collection and analysis production and dissemination of national intelligence by approving requirements and resolving conflicts.”11 With access to intelligence from all sources, the dnI was tasked with ensuring that all intelligence across the foreign/domestic divide was disseminated throughout the intelligence community. For the same reasons that drove the creation of the position of dnI, the 9/11 Commission Report also recommended the establishment of a US National Counter-Terrorism Center (nctc ) that would “serve as a centre for joint operational planning and joint intelligence.”12 The nctc was intended to improve inter-agency coordination and dissemination of assessments. It was also expected to contribute to both strategic and operational counterterrorism (ct ) planning domestically and abroad. Accordingly, the nctc became more engaged in both the operational and corporate management sides of the US’s broader gwot strategy. It assumed responsibility for the planning of “discrete counterterrorism tasks” (i.e., specific operations), which were to be carried out by designated agencies,”13 but it did not engage in actual operations. It also housed centralized databases on international terrorist identities to support US federal, local, and international partner watch-lists.

c a n a dIa n “ c o u nterparts” In Canada, the federal government developed security-related mandates for nearly a dozen different departments and agencies as a means to implement counterterrorism strategies and policies which now focused on the prevention of terrorism. In addition, the government had to integrate within the national security community

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non-traditional policy centres that had been securitized under the 2004 Open Society policy. All of this required an organizational structure that provided not just for better collaboration (as in the United States) but also for enhanced policy coordination and prioritization and information-sharing among a greater number of entities. It also filled certain operational gaps. To dispute the view that Canadian efforts simply mimicked those of the United States, a comparison between the three US agencies referenced and their closest Canadian counterparts is offered here. They are compared in terms of their respective mandates and structures and when they came “online.” I will then consider separately whether there were issues related to information stove-piping, First, some background on the Canadian counterparts. When Paul Martin became prime minister in December 2003, one of his first acts was to announce the creation a new department: Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness Canada (psepc now called Public Safety Canada or psc ). Given the enhanced importance of national security within the federal government’s broader agenda and policy priorities, there was a need to boost the status of the department responsible for national security in general and counterterrorism strategies specifically, as well as to buttress the government narrative presented to the Canadian public regarding the threat posed by transnational terrorism. The remit of the new public safety department resulted in that agency assuming responsibility for a number of portfolios, both existing and newly created. Perhaps most significant in all of this reorganizing was that the first public safety minister happened to also be the new deputy prime minister, Anne McLellan. Besides significantly enhancing the department’s profile and mandate around the Cabinet table, her appointment and presence provided the necessary authority to get things done (e.g., the promulgation of a new national security policy) and overcome bureaucratic lethargy. As a very senior cabinet minister who held the mandate for domestic safety and security matters, and who also held the newly created position of National Security Advisor to the Prime Minister (see below), she significantly increased the profile of the national security agenda within the political machinery. The new department took over those agencies that had been under its precursor (i.e., the Office of Solicitor General, responsible for the rcmp , csIs , Correctional Service Canada, the National Parole

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Board, and the Canadian Firearms Program). It also assumed direct responsibility for the newly created cBsa (which had been separated from what had been the Canada Customs and Revenue Agency) and the Office of Critical Infrastructure Protection and Emergency Preparedness (osIpep ), which had been housed in the Department of National Defence (dnd ). Public Safety Canada’s operational remit was quite broad, somewhat akin to that of the dhs ; it included national security, border security, cybersecurity, protection of critical infrastructure, and planning in response to natural disasters. psepc officials were also expected to provide objective advice to senior decision-makers regarding applicable legislation and governance (ideally in consultation with the National Security Advisor [nsa ]), operational concerns such as terrorist entities and “no-fly” listings, sectoral strategies for prevention, responses to industrial, financial, trade, and transportation disasters/attacks, and strategies for how best to work with private sector entities (especially social media and utility providers) and with other levels of government and local communities. The closest Canadian counterpart to the US dnI is the nsa . Given the increased number of departments and agencies with links to national security issues, it made sense to task some form of “secretariat”-type unit with helping cabinet members and the Prime Minister’s Office (pmo ) coordinate policies and programs, and with monitoring activities within the community. Before 9/11, there had been a Coordinator of Security and Intelligence within the Privy Council Office (pco ), who coordinated the security and intelligence activities of all government civilian agencies and who, through the Clerk of the Privy Council (Canada’s senior bureaucrat), advised the prime minister on security and intelligence matters. Soon after 9/11, the security coordinator’s role was grafted onto the position of deputy clerk and counsel, and subsequently onto the position of associate clerk. This multitasking was of some utility from a machinery-of-government perspective in the immediate post-9/11 period; however, when new counterterrorism legislation and policy were crafted, the coordinator found it difficult to devote sufficient attention to the coordination function within the national security community. There was a greater demand for the prime minister’s attention regarding national security matters and, with that, a greater need for his senior advisers to focus on security matters (i.e., no more “double-hatting”). Hence, the position of nsa , designed to

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be the senior bureaucratic pipeline to the pm on issues of national security threats, intelligence assessment, and coordination of government policy, was announced under the new Martin government in December 2003. The 2004 Open Society national security policy led to the creation of the Integrated Threat (now Terrorism) Assessment Centre (Itac ). Its mandate somewhat resembles that of the US nctc , in that it is meant to serve as a single-source forum for producing comprehensive threat assessments for distribution within the federal government’s intelligence community and among senior decision-makers, international partners, and relevant first-line responders, such as law enforcement, critical infrastructure stakeholders, and the private sector. Its assessments evaluate both the probability and the potential consequences of identified threats. Ideally, Itac provides the organizational framework for detecting and disrupting high-risk individuals or groups by sharing and analyzing information among represented agencies. It also shares jointly produced products with front-line responders and international partners. Typically, Itac based assessments focus on the short to medium term or on special events held in Canada, such as the Olympics and g 7 meetings, as opposed to broader strategic or geopolitical matters. Itac is also responsible for measuring the  National Terrorism Threat Level, which is updated regularly.14 Itac has representation from various intelligence and law enforcement agencies, as mandated under the Open Society policy. These agencies include traditional security-based departments such as psepc , csIs , rcmp , the Communications Security Establishment (cse ), dnd , and cBsa . They also include gac , the Financial Transactions and Reports Analysis Centre (fIntrac ), pco, Correctional Service Canada, Transport Canada, the Canada Revenue Agency, and representatives from two external law enforcement agencies: the Ontario Provincial Police (opp), and the sq .

k e y o r g a nIz a t Ional a n d m a n d a t e dIfferences The most common reference point in support of the view that Canadian reorganization efforts have mimicked those of US agencies focuses on the comparison between the US dhs and Canada’s psepc. In December 2003, roughly a year after the dhs was estab-

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lished, Prime Minister Martin announced the creation of psepc . Their respective mandates encompassed prevention and response not only to threats posed by terrorism but also to natural disasters and global challenges. The latter included pandemics, threats to the environment, and what then was an emerging problem – cyberattacks on key infrastructure. Both departments were expected to provide leadership on the strategic architecture for domestic security going forward, as well as policy and program development and implementation, in addition to developing engagement strategies with local governments and the private sector. Both dhs and psepc served as the Cabinet-level departments charged with coordinating federal responses to threats to each country’s national security at the domestic level, however defined. Consistent with the dhs ’s primary focus on border security, arguably the most comprehensive reorganization initiative within the national security purview of Canada’s federal government involved the creation of the cBsa , which eventually was housed within psepc . The creation of the cBsa strengthened the prevention and enforcement capacity of the “human” element of border control that had been addressed legislatively by the Immigration and Refugee Protection Act of 2001, in parallel with the processing of commercial goods under the canus Smart Border Accords of 2002. Canada’s federal reorganization efforts also transferred responsibility for the inter-agency coordination of critical infrastructure protection and emergency preparedness from dnd to psepc , again similar to dhs , in recognition that national security required a nexus between prevention and response capabilities (crisis management and consequence management) within the federal government as well as between Ottawa and other levels of government and first responders. Agencies engaged in this mandate had already been established (fema in the United States, the Office of Critical Infrastructure, Preparedness and Emergency Planning [ocIpep ] in Canada), so there was no need to reinvent the wheel. They were absorbed into dhs and psepc respectively.15 The creation of a Public Safety department in Canada immediately generated comparisons with the dhs . For example, Bronskill reported: “Taking a cue from the United States, the federal government created an overarching public security ministry to help Canada deal with everything from terrorist threats to natural disasters.”16 This view is supported by Keeble, who noted that in many ways,

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psepc “is the Canadian counterpart to US dhs, to ensure the kind of coordination necessary in a post-September 11 world to oversee intelligence and security functions as well as conduct border operations.”17 The one-year gap between the creation of dhs and psepc could have provided Canadian officials with sufficient time to structure their new ministry along somewhat similar lines as the dhs in terms of both mandate and composition; however, the new psepc minister (and deputy prime minister) Anne McLellan took great pains to explain that it was not a “mirror image of the one south of the border” and that, in the interest of providing a capacity to ensure a more coordinated response to unexpected calamities, “it would have been created regardless of whether the United States had created its Homeland Security Department.”18 Furthermore, three years before the 9/11 attacks, concerns about protecting critical infrastructure and the need for broader organizational oversight and planning, akin to psepc ’s ultimate structure and mandate, came to be widely recognized as a result of the federal government’s struggle to deal with the aftermath of the North American ice storm of 1998, which saw one of the largest deployments of caf personnel ever, and the preparations for the Y2K rollover, not just for computers but also for all other key infrastructure and utilities.19 As observed by Roach, “the new ministry [psepc ] was designed in part to allow for ... a more comprehensive and ‘rational’ approach to the various risks Canadians face as eventually reflected in the National Security Policy.”20 More broadly speaking, both dhs and psepc provided a higher profile and a broader platform for issues related to domestic security within their respective administrations. In terms of actual organization, however, there were significant differences between the two agencies. As noted, dhs was an amalgam of some twenty-two agencies; existing security-related mandates brought under line management control of a single department and secretary. In integrating and assuming direct line responsibility for twenty-two different agencies, dhs adopted a classical hierarchical approach to the management of its subagencies. psepc’s mandate was based on a more networked approach. While the department does have managerial responsibility for some key agencies (csIs, rcmp, cBsa), it also has a mandate to coordinate with, but not to directly manage, the many other federal and a few provincial agencies that have a domestic security mandate. These latter agencies still enjoy managerial and accountability independence. This is institutionally

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consistent with and respectful of Westminster principles and is buttressed by the concept of Cabinet collective responsibilities. As noted by the former National Security Advisor Rob Wright (2003–5), psepc was never intended to have direct oversight of the key agencies responsible for security-related issues. Its role was primarily one of coordination. “Nobody wanted to duplicate the dhs. It was a disaster.”21 Former pespc Deputy Minister Margaret Bloodworth stated unequivocally: “It wasn’t the job of the [public safety] minister to run other agencies that had a security-related mandate.”22 Furthermore, the dhs did not have the same internal capacity regarding the collection and analysis of intelligence as did psepc through its line responsibility for the federal law enforcement (rcmp ) and national security (csIs ) agencies. These same functions remained outside the remit of dhs (fBI and cIa respectively). Also, while psepc did have a mandate to enforce immigration and refugee policies and statutes through the cBsa , broader policy and program functions remained within Immigration (now Citizenship) Canada. Unlike Canada, the United States chose to fully securitize immigration policy by including it in the mandate of the dhs . There are three key points to make relative to the position of the nsa as it pertains to the “mimic” question. First, unlike its US counterpart (dnI ), the nsa ’s responsibilities did not initially include the civilian foreign policy/security remit within the pco , although there was obviously close cooperation between the two policy centres. (These functions were ultimately made the responsibility of the nsa close to ten years later, only to be separated organizationally once again at a later date.) Second, as was the case with psepc , the nsa did not have line or budgetary responsibility for those security-mandated agencies located outside of the pco that it dealt with on a day-to-day basis, as did the dnI . Finally, the primary roles and functions of the nsa and its precursor, the Coordinator of Intelligence and Security within the pco , were established well before the actual creation of the position of dnI in 2004. The primary mandate of Itac – better inter-agency coordination and dissemination of assessments – resembles at least one core mission of the nctc , which is to fuse a number of government agencies in support of all-sources-based assessments. But that is where the similarity ends. The broader mandate of the nctc also obliges it to contribute to both strategic and operational counterterrorism planning domestically, but with an increasing focus on US counterterrorism efforts

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abroad. Under statutory mandate, the nctc is engaged in planning the operational and corporate management sides of the US’s broader gwot strategy. Itac’s role in Canada’s broader counterterrorism strategy is much more constrained. The timings of the organizational changes are important from another perspective. The nctc was created after Itac . The new Canadian nsa position was announced a year before the dnI , and its core functions had been in place before 9/11 in the office of the Coordinator of Security and Intelligence in pco . psepc came one year after dhs was created, so while dhs could have been used as a model, this was not the case. As noted earlier, the need for a psepc -type agency was identified as an outcome of the lessons federal government had gleaned from the ice storm and its y2k planning experience. I posit that both Canada and the United States were obliged to rethink national security because of the common threat posed by transnational terrorism, especially at the domestic level. Both countries needed to create domestic counterterrorism strategies that were based on prevention, not just response, led by civilian agencies. Both governments took the opportunity to have their lead domestic agencies expand the concept of national security to provide for prevention, response, and recovery elements, and to include non-traditional events such as natural disasters, pandemics, and environmental security within their purview. Both saw the need for greater cooperation and coordination with other levels of government, first responders, and the private sector, seeing this as key to national security strategies. Therefore, in the broadest of terms, the reorganizations that occurred in the respective countries were undertaken in response to similar drivers. Yet there were also differences that were significant enough to argue that Canadian initiatives did not mimic parallel US efforts. For one thing, the mandates, responsibilities, and remits of the newly created nctc and dnI went beyond those of their Canadian counterparts. Second, the dhs and dnI assumed direct managerial responsibility for the twenty-two existing agencies, departments, and civilian intelligence agencies that reported to them. By contrast, management of, and accountability for, security-related mandates within departments and agencies of the Canadian government remained largely the responsibility of the respective individual ministers. The dhs assumed a hierarchical approach to its organization. Canada’s domestic strategy was more networked.

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wh a t aB o u t In f o r m a t Ion stove-p IpIng? Regarding national security within Canada, and counterterrorism specifically, 9/11 and transnational terrorism had a significant impact on the role of intelligence. The shift to a counterterrorism policy and strategy grounded in prevention rather than response meant that intelligence needed to take on a significantly enhanced role. Besides having to work within a more ambiguous, complex, and multisourced threat environment, intelligence agencies were now tasked with identifying “what could happen” as opposed to “what just happened.” Furthermore, the federal government’s counterterrorism strategy and the Open Society policy required that a greater number of policy centres be brought into the intelligence-sharing loop, with a corresponding variety of intelligence requirements. Key Canadian participants and decision-makers at the time of 9/11 have stressed that in the lead-up to that event, there were few if any challenges associated with federal agencies’ willingness to share intelligence and information. Moreover, from an operational and investigative perspective, these same agencies concurred on the threat posed to Canada by transnational terrorism. For example, they were able to quickly and collectively establish that there had been no Canadian connection to the 9/11 attack (despite persistent accusations in the United States to the contrary). The csIs director at the time of the attacks, Ward Elcock, stated that there were few stove-piping concerns related to management of the terrorism threat domestically. There was nothing to suggest that a comprehensive reorganizational fix was necessary to facilitate the flow of information, nor was there the need for an equivalent to the US Patriot Act to remove institutional constraints to information sharing of the sort that were present in the United States.23 This view is supported by Richard Fadden, Coordinator of Intelligence and Security within pco at the time of the 9/11 attacks. He noted that the community of Canadian security agencies is much smaller than in the United States, which smoothed inter-agency cooperation and consultation, both formal and informal: “If challenges were encountered, we simply picked up the phone.”24 More to the point, the federal law enforcement agency and the main intelligence-gathering agency – rcmp and csIs – were already located within the same ministry (Office of the Solicitor General) prior to 9/11. As well, there were representatives

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from csIs , cse , rcmp , and others within the pco ’s Security and Intelligence Secretariat who supported the coordinator’s consultation/coordination mandate. The Canadian intelligence community is smaller than those of other countries, and this allows for and indeed encourages a cohesion that is impossible in larger security and intelligence communities. “This is fostered through both formal and informal interdepartmental structures, and complex of interpersonal and professional relationships and communication links.”25 Even at the senior Cabinet level, the sharing of information was not seen as an issue. John Manley, Minister of Foreign Affairs during 9/11, was tasked with developing Ottawa’s initial policy response to 9/11. He noted, “I don’t think that I ever heard there was an issue regarding stove-piping as there was in the US. It never emerged. There wasn’t a problem that one hand didn’t know what the other was doing. Nor was there an external/domestic split. We were already collecting abroad.”26

c o n c l u sIon Despite the narrative reflected in Canada’s sole national security policy that “there can be no more important obligation for a government than the protection and safety of its citizens” and that “security is the foundation of our prosperity.”27 The extent of the threat revealed by the 9/11 attacks “came as a shock to the political system, and Canadian responses to security threats post-9/11 were a reflection of the trauma occasioned by the event.”28 Jeffrey notes that “the need to reassure Canadians of their own safety drove the [governing] Liberals into uncharted waters. Not since the invocation of the War Measures Act in 1970 had a federal government been confronted with such a perceived threat to the state and its citizens.”29 Despite the fact that Canadian-based Sikh nationalists had been responsible for the 1985 Air India bombing, which was at the time the world’s single worst act of aviation-based terrorism,30 most Canadians barely registered the threat from terrorism. After 9/11, however, they took that threat seriously and turned to the federal government to protect them. Canada did not simply copy the US response to 9/11. In Canada, the main driver of the federal government’s restructuring of its national security infrastructure was an understanding among key decision-makers that the threat posed by transnational terrorism

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required the involvement of a greater number of policy/agency centres within the federal government. A more comprehensive whole-of-government response and strategy was required. It is something of a testament to those involved in the Canadian federal government’s response to 9/11 in general, and in the reorganization of Canada’s national security infrastructure between 2001 and 2004, that the legislation, policies, programs, and organizations that were put in place at the time have remained largely unchanged, even as the threats to Canadians and Canadian interests have evolved over time. By any possible and plausible measure, Ottawa’s choices twenty plus years ago have provided Canadians with an enviable balance of security while respecting those norms and values inherent in a democratic society. not e s 1 National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States, The 9/11 Commission Report (New York: W.W. Norton, 2004), 403. 2 Paul Pillar, Terrorism and US Foreign Policy (Washington, dc : Brookings Institution Press, 2003), viii. 3 Ibid., 25. 4 Department of Homeland Security, “Proposal to Create the Department of Homeland Security,” 24 September 2015, https://www.dhs.gov/creationdepartment-homeland-security. 5 Ibid. 6 Interview with Governor Thomas Ridge, 7 June 2018. 7 Ibid. 8 National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States, The 9/11 Commission, 411. 9 Ibid., 403. 10 Mark Lowenthal, Intelligence – From Secrets to Policy, 7th ed. (Los Angeles: cq Press, 2017), 467. 11 Government of the United States, Intelligence Reform and Terrorism Prevention Act of 2004, Public Law 108–458 (17 December 2004), 11, https://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/PLAW-108publ458/pdf/PLAW108publ458.pdf. 12 National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States, The 9/11 Commission Report, 403. 13 Richard Best, “The National Counter-Terrorism Centre (nctc ) – Responsibilities and Potential Congressional Concerns” (Washington, dc :

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crs Report for Congress, Congressional Research Service, December 2011), 6. Government of Canada, “National Terrorism Threat Levels,” 11 December 2018, https://www.canada.ca/en/services/defence/ nationalsecurity/terrorism-threat-level.html. Ridge interview. Jim Bronskill, “Public Safety Ministry Combines several agencies,” Canadian Press, 12 December 2003. Edna Keeble, “Defining Canadian Security: Continuities and Discontinuities,” American Review of Canadian Studies (Spring 2005): 11. Drew Fagan, “Security agency won’t mirror US operation, McLellan says,” Globe and Mail, 13 December 2003. Marina Rountree, Horizontality and Canada’s Office of Critical Infrastructure, Protection and Emergency Preparedness: A Case Study, ma thesis, Department of Political Studies, University of Manitoba, 2005, 6. Kent Roach, The 9/11 Effect: Comparative Counterterrorism (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 421. Rob Wright interview. See also criticism in Alan Cohn and Christian Marrone, “Organizing Homeland Security: The Challenge of Integration at dhs ,” in Beyond 9/11: Homeland Security for the Twenty-First Century, ed. Chappell Lawson, Alan Bersin, and Juliette Kayyem (Cambridge, ma : mIt Press, 2020), 41–56. Interview with Margaret Bloodworth, 28 June 2018. Interview with Ward Elcock, 5 June 2018. Interview with Richard Fadden, 16 May 2018. Senate of Canada, The Report of the Special Committee on Security and Intelligence (January 1999), chapter 4, https://sencanada.ca/content/sen/ committee/361/secu/rep/repsecintjan99-e.htm. Interview with Hon. John Manley, 18 April 2018. Government of Canada, Privy Council Office, Securing an Open Society: Canada’s National Security Policy (Ottawa: April 2004), vii, 1. Wesley Wark, National Security and Human Rights Concerns: A Survey of Eight Critical Issues in the Post-9/11 Environment (Ottawa: Canadian Human Rights Commission, 2006), 16. Brooke Jeffrey, Divided Loyalties: The Liberal Party of Canada, 1984– 2008 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2010), 355. Standing Committee on National Security and Defence, “Countering the Terrorist Threat in Canada: An interim report” (2015), 1, https:// sencanada.ca/Content/SEN/Committee/412/secd/rep/rep18jul15-e.pdf.

14 Multilayered but Not Coordinated: National Security Policing in Canada after 9/11 Veronica Kitchen

National security policing in both Canada and the United States has evolved dramatically since 9/11, and there is substantial cooperation across the border on a case-by-case basis. That being said, there is little in the past twenty years to suggest that we can talk about national security policing as a “North American” project. National security policing in Canada can best be conceptualized as multilayered, with formal and informal cooperation at various levels of government. As I have argued elsewhere,1 this is an adaptive if probably inadvertent strategy that avoids the politicization of security initiatives that would lead to their likely demise in the strong light of public scrutiny. Here, I start by reviewing the general trends in Canadian national security policing, as well as the evolution of the perceived threat from terrorism. I review some of the formal and informal practices of cooperation in North America and, finally, conclude with a discussion of current challenges to national security policing. In Canada, the rcmp retained the capacity to investigate national security incidents after the rcmp Security Service was removed and csIs was founded in 1984, but few officers were assigned to the latter, and national security investigations received little attention. Nor were other law enforcement organizations, such as provincial or municipal police, typically involved in terrorism or national security directly. This would change rapidly after 9/11. Security policing continues to exist in the post-9/11 North American security agreements, although the focus in these has tended to be more on border security than on counterterrorism.

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The 2001 Smart Border Accords regularized and expanded programs like the Integrated Border Enforcement Teams (IBet s), began taking steps to coordinate intelligence for counterterrorism, and initiated Canadian participation in counterterrorism readiness exercises. The spp (2005) was trilateral rather than bilateral, and its national security provisions – which primarily concerned providing opportunities for Mexico to become involved in discussions about cooperation with Canada and the United States2 (see Athanasios Hristoulas’s chapter) – amounted to very little in the short and undistinguished life of that agreement. The Beyond the Border Action Plan (2011) brought a renewed focus on law enforcement at the border and also, ambitiously, proposed the development of integrated law enforcement teams in both maritime and land contexts (see below). While there has been some appetite for high-level political coordination of national security initiatives, the actual practice of cooperation on national security policing in North America reflects the fact that counterterrorism and the prevention and countering of violent extremism (p/cve ) are ultimately both global and local endeavours. As such, with the not insignificant exception of border security, canus relations in national security policing tend to resemble links that each country also has with other countries – that is, they do not reflect a special relationship – or else they reflect the fact that while best practices and intelligence can be shared, much of counterterrorism and p/cve is hyper-local and inevitably addresses local contexts. Even on border security, many nationally coordinated initiatives have languished or have been aborted.

ev o l u tI o n o f t h e p e rceIved threat Approaches to national security policing have evolved as perceptions of the threat have evolved. In the immediate post-9/11 period, national security policing focused on Islamist-inspired terrorism originating outside Canada (see the chapters by Shannon Nash and David Haglund). Since first responders, including law enforcement, are the first officials present after a terrorist attack, an “all hazards” approach3 to terrorism prevailed in this period. This approach recognized that although some challenges (such as the need to preserve evidence) are unique to terrorist attacks, for the most part, any manufactured or natural disaster requires a similar response.4 The

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all-hazards approach shaped institutional adaptation in both Canada and the United States during the establishment of Public Safety Canada and the dhs in the United States (see John Gilmour’s chapter). The idea that terrorism was something that came from outside of North America was reinforced by prevailing rhetoric that fighting terrorists and addressing grievances was part of an “away game” (see the chapter by Charron, Fergusson, and St John) whereas mitigating and responding to terrorist attacks was part of a “home game.”5 This initial perception shifted in the mid-2000s after the Madrid railway bombings6 and the 7/77 attacks in the UK highlighted the problem of “homegrown terrorism” or “domestic radicalization.” In Canada, this came to the public eye with the arrest of the Toronto 18 in 2006.8 Eventually, this problem came to include concerns about foreign fighters after the first cluster of Canadians travelled to Syria from Calgary in late 2012; they may one day return to Canada and conduct terrorist activities here.9 Around the same time, researchers and policy-makers identified the phenomenon of “lone wolf” (now more commonly called “lone actor”) terrorists, who were radicalized primarily through online social networks rather than in-person cells.10 This led to a shift in focus to p/cve at home, as well as the development of different sets of skills in various police departments to address these challenges (see below). At the federal level, the establishment of Public Safety Canada’s Centre for Community Engagement and Prevention of Violence in 2017 was pivotal in institutionalizing this shift in focus.11 After Donald Trump was elected US president in 2016, media and policy attention turned to the threat of right-wing extremism in Canada, although it has taken time to determine which cve approaches designed for Islamist-inspired terrorism can be carried over to address right-wing extremism, and for the policy machinery to catch up.12 The same has been true of incel terrorism (short for involuntary celibates), regarding which Canada has the distinction of being the first country to lay a terrorism charge for an act related to this ideology.13 Today, together with cybersecurity, terrorism continues to dominate the national security policing agenda in Canada, although as I will discuss in the conclusion, this agenda should probably be broadened to include reflection by police and policy-makers on gendered and racialized violence by the police.

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In s t It u tIo n a l changes National security policing formally falls under the jurisdiction of the rcmp in Canada and includes the investigation of “activities that undermine the security of Canada,” including terrorism, espionage, and foreign influence. From the first days after 9/11, it was clear that policy-makers viewed those attacks as a failure of information- sharing, and the appropriate response as closer integration among the various security actors. The 9/11 attacks in the United States were perceived by analysts as having resulted from a lack of cooperation between different parts of the security bureaucracy. The importance of inter-agency cooperation was identified in the 9/11 Commission Report (US), in Canada’s national security strategy, Securing an Open Society (2004),14 and in the UK’s report on the 7/7 transit bombings in London.15 In Canada, the idea of integration in national security policing manifested itself mainly in the development of integrated national security enforcement teams, or Inset s. These replaced the rcmp ’s National Security Investigations Service. They were first mentioned in the media only a month after 9/1116 and were formally launched in June 2002.17 This kind of integration had existed before in the realm of national security. Faced with a threat from the Front de libération du Québec (flq ) in the 1960s, the rcmp , the sq , and the Montreal Police established the Combined Anti-Terrorism Squad to respond to separatist political violence. It was disbanded in 1970 after the October Crisis.18 The Inset s have a mandate to collect and share intelligence among partners, enforce laws related to national security, and strengthen Canada’s capacity to combat national security threats. Each Inset comprises representatives from the rcmp , csIs , cBsa, and provincial and municipal police forces. There are now Insets in Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal, Edmonton, and Vancouver. In other parts of the country, national security investigations are conducted through National Security Enforcement Sections in regional rcmp divisions. All the while, provincial and regional police forces were developing their own expertise in national security. This was a natural outcome of the all-hazards approach to threats which privileges first responders. In Ontario, for instance, the Provincial Anti-Terrorism Section (pats ) was established almost immediately after 9/11, and it continues to oversee cooperation between the opp and other regional

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police services. It is also a legacy of the institutional structure of the Insets and of mega-events like the Vancouver Olympics and the Toronto g 20, both of which were governed by integrated security units, drawing in police officers from law enforcement organizations across the country. This meant that expertise on mega-event security and security governance travelled back to local police jurisdictions with the officers who participated.19 p/cve efforts by different law enforcement organizations have often been in tension, however. Harris-Hogan and colleagues distinguished between forms of p/cve : primary (community prevention), secondary (intervention with individuals who show signs of radicalization to violence), and tertiary (disengagement from radical groups).20 Some primary intervention programs, notably the rcmp ’s National Security Community Outreach Program, have been criticized for targeting only those communities seen to be a problem, as well as for building community relationships for the main purpose of gathering intelligence from communities and facilitating investigations (i.e., rather than for true prevention).21 This view is exacerbated by the rcmp ’s continued insistence on referring to its community prevention efforts as taking place in the “pre-criminal space,” as if everyone has an equal chance of radicalizing to violence, and by its emphasis on interventions in predominantly racialized and Muslim communities.22 Police and intelligence agencies eventually turned their attention to other violent groups, such as right-wing extremists. However, 9/11 shifted the focus of policing practice back to Islamist-inspired terrorism, this time from outside of North America.23 By contrast, other law enforcement organizations – more typically local police – have developed a model of primary intervention that more closely follows a public health model of prevention,24 targeting a range of social determinants of health that include risk factors for radicalization to violence but also protective ones.25 To that end, “hubs” or “situation tables” have been implemented across Canada in local communities. They bring together various community agencies to discuss cases of individuals who are at high risk of violence to themselves or to others, for any reason, and to plan interventions. Although these hubs somewhat de-emphasize the police role, we know from various sources that law enforcement organizations view these interventions as an important tool for preventing radicalization.26 It is easy to see how these two models, by virtue of how they lead communities to perceive the police, could be at odds with each other.

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To foster research on terrorism and violent extremism in Canada, the Department of Public Safety created the Kanishka Project, named after the Air India Flight 182 plane that was bombed in the worst terrorist act in Canadian history, killing 329 people, most of them Canadian, on 23 June 1985. Between 2011 and 2016, this project funded research on terrorism-related issues affecting Canada, such as preventing and countering violent extremism.27 This project was replaced by Public Safety Canada’s Centre in 2017. In recognition of the need for p/cve initiatives to be locally directed in response to local contexts, the Canada Centre has a funding and coordinating function rather than a service delivery function. There has been some sharing of best practices with the United States, but as Kubicek and King note in their overview of the Canada Centre, because the United States invested in domestic p/cve initiatives relatively late, Canada was as likely to look to other jurisdictions, such as the UK and Australia, for models and lessons learned.28 The result is that cooperation between Canada and the United States on security has tended to focus more on counterterrorism (intelligence sharing and preventing attacks) than on preventing violent extremism.

p ol Ic e lI aIs o n s a n d In f ormat I on-s har I ng Cross-border cooperation between police forces needs to be formalized, given the sensitivity of the information exchanged. Indeed, this was one of the most important lessons of the early post-9/11 period. In September 2002, Maher Arar, a Canadian citizen, was detained in New York on his return to Canada from Tunisia. Instead of returning him to Canada, US officials sent him to Syria, where he was also a citizen. For more than a year, he was held and tortured on suspicion of terrorism. An inquiry into his detention determined that he had been tortured, that there was no evidence that he was a terrorist, and that the rcmp and csIs had indirectly contributed to his arrest, detention, and torture because of their sloppy information-sharing, including the lack of caveats the rcmp attached to the information they had shared with US officials that would have made the context and reliability of the information clearer.29 In that context, we can distinguish between formal structures of cooperation that enable case-by-case information-sharing between Canada and the United States, and formal and institutionalized structures for day-to-day cooperation.

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As the lead law enforcement organization for national security policing, the rcmp has police liaisons in several countries abroad, including the United States, to facilitate information-sharing and assist with international aspects of Canadian investigations. It is clear from news reports30 that there is information exchange between the fBI and the rcmp . In Project smooth, rcmp Insets cooperated with the New York Joint Terrorist Task Force (jttf ) to investigate and disrupt a plot to bomb a vIa Rail train.31 The fBI alerted the rcmp to the activities of Canadian naval Sub-Lieutenant Jeffrey Delisle, who was allegedly working as a Russian spy, even though csIs apparently had evidence of it already.32 Finally, the rcmp’s arrest (and killing) of Aaron Driver was precipitated by an fBI alert about a potential attacker; the rcmp was able to add enough detail to make an arrest.33 The sq operates a similar program that focuses mostly on Francophone countries but does include cooperation with the fBI . As is to be expected given their focus on the p/cve side of national security policing, municipal cross-border links are more sparse, but we know, for instance, that the New York Police Department (nypd ) sends a liaison officer to the Toronto Police Service (tps). The Vancouver Police Department’s (vpd) Military Liaison Unit (mlu) has relationships with the US armed forces and engages in joint training exercises with the US National Guard in the state of Washington with the goal “to train military officials on how the police model and [unmanned aerial vehicle] technologies might be incorporated into urban warfare tactics, as well as for municipal police to identify and incorporate military tactics and advancements in aerial surveillance into their own urban-based operations.”34 (In their chapter, Jean-Christophe Boucher, Jean-François Payette, and Stéphane Roussel cover the many ways that Quebec cooperates with neighbouring US states.) In each of these cases, cooperation is operational and diplomatic rather than institutional, and certainly it does not constitute a cohesive national strategy for North American cooperation.

In s t It u t Io n a l c ooperat I on In North America, regularized and institutionalized security cooperation has focused on policing at the border – or rather at the points of entry that constitute the diffuse border through a set of governance structures and practices. The rcmp was among a set of partner agencies that piloted the first IBet at the BC/Washington border

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in 1996; this was regularized across Canada in 2002 as part of post-9/11 cooperative efforts. The IBet s have a mandate to “investigate, identify, and interdict” individuals or groups engaged in illegal activities at the border. IBet s are coordinated nationally by US and Canadian officials. They share information but cannot enforce laws in each other’s jurisdictions.35 IBet s had limitations as a model for national security policing: US and Canadian officials essentially “mirrored” each other on each side of the border, without authority to cross over or enforce laws on the other side of the border.36 The Integrated Cross-Border Maritime Law Enforcement Operations (Icmelo ) pilot program, nicknamed “Shiprider,” built on the IBet model, allowed US Coast Guard officials to ride on rcmp vessels, and vice versa, so that police forces could travel freely across maritime borders to enforce laws under the supervision of the officer with formal authority in the jurisdiction.37 This program was proposed in the National Security Strategy “Securing an Open Society.” It was piloted during the SuperBowl in Detroit in 2005, reiterated in the Beyond the Border agreement, and implemented across Canada between 2005 and 2014. The program was justified in political rhetoric as a national security, intelligence-driven initiative; operationally, however, it focused more on day-to-day maritime policing.38 Nonetheless, the 2011 Beyond the Border Agreement called for the extension of Shiprider to land ports of entry, a project nicknamed “Next Generation” or “NxtGen.” Like Shiprider, NxtGen was supposed to give US police officers nominal operational authority at some reasonable distance from established land ports of entry, as well as broader investigative authority in cooperation with Canadian partners – and vice versa. However, the project never really got off the ground, and as of 2015, it was apparently in permanent abeyance, although Shiprider continues. Political will seems to have evaporated as the public and policy-makers wrestled with the idea of US police officers enforcing the law in an undefined range of Canadian territory. There were also the challenges of negotiating with multiple US partner law enforcement agencies, as well as policy disagreements related to things like the use of firearms.39 Again, such challenges and failures are not unexpected; as canus initiatives intersect more closely with individuals’ daily lives, they become politically more controversial and start to raise nationalist hackles.

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c h a l l e n g e s a n d c o u rs e-correct Ions Two decades after 9/11, law enforcement organizations in Canada responsible for national security policing have made some adaptations, but they also face new challenges in addition to ongoing ones. As the focus of p/cve programs shifts from Islamist-inspired extremism as a result of 9/11 to right-wing, incel, and other extreme ideas, these programs must reckon with their embedded gendered and racialized assumptions, which may hinder their effectiveness.40 Moreover, the rcmp , and other local police forces, must deal with structural racism as well as white supremacist symbols being worn by uniformed officers, in addition to an ongoing problem with sexual violence.41 There is structural violence in extremist views when they are espoused in a law enforcement organization, even if they are not (always) directly implicated in violent actions. It is fairly clear that there has not yet been a full reckoning by Canadian law enforcement organizations of how their actions make some communities more secure and others less so. The rcmp , in particular, needs to recognize the ways in which its colonial history with Indigenous peoples implicates national security in processes of reconciliation.42 As law enforcement organizations are fundamentally challenged with enforcing particular visions of order, understanding national security policing should also include understanding how the human security of particular marginalized communities is harmed through that enforcement.43

c o n c l u sI o n : l e g acI es of 9/11 In national security policing, the legacy of 9/11 is visible in the complete institutional overhaul of the national security policing system in Canada. The institutional restructuring has been massive: it has led to the creation of Inset s and new cross-border cooperative initiatives. However, the funding for this type of policing never quite seems to match the demand for security investigations. The impact on personnel is also significant: career paths in national security policing have been established that did not exist prior to the 9/11 attacks when it was considered a less than desirable assignment.44 The next step is to recognize the ways in which policing culture can be at odds with efforts to promote reconciliation and prevent violence. Despite efforts along the way, specifically North American

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cooperative institution-building efforts have been relatively thin. There are a few formal structures that predate 9/11, and a few new ones that work moderately well. How much does this matter for the future of Canadian security? Is Canadian or US security compromised by the multiple layers of cooperation and an absence of coordinated response? If the 9/11 attacks, with all of the change they wrought as outlined in the many chapters of this volume, have failed to prompt a unified response, it seems unlikely that, in light of greater divergence in security culture,45 another threat short of that magnitude will prompt one. Other national security threats, such as cybersecurity, are probably best dealt with globally rather than bilaterally or trilaterally in North America because of their global origins and impacts. But it is also true that continuing to create an environment where multilayered bilateral and trilateral cooperation can emerge could improve North American security. Even where cooperative institutional efforts were less than successful (as in the various canus security agreements) or where they have been global rather than continental (as in much of the cooperation on counterterrorism and p/cve), it seems likely that they have created political space and professional capacities to foster the multilayered cooperative efforts that have characterized the post-9/11 period in North America. no t e s 1 Veronica Kitchen, “Smarter Cooperation in Canada–US Relations?,” International Journal 59, no. 3 (2004): 693–710. 2 Greg Anderson and Christopher Sands, Negotiating North America: The Security and Prosperity Partnership (Washington, dc : Hudson Institute, 2008), http://www.hudson.org/content/researchattachments/ attachment/680/hudson_negotiating_north_america_final.pdf. 3 William L. Waugh Jr, “The ‘All Hazards’ Approach Must Be Continued,” Journal of Emergency Management 2, no. 1 (2004): 11–12. 4 See Alex Wilner, “Public Safety Canada (psc ),” in Top Secret Canada: Understanding the Canadian Intelligence and National Security Community, ed. Stephanie Carvin, Thomas Juneau, and Craig Forcese, Institute of Public Administration of Canada Series in Public Management and Governance (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2021), for a discussion of the origins and evolution of Public Safety Canada. 5 Joel Sokolsky, “Canada and North American Maritime Security: The

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Home and Away Game at Sea,” Policy Options, 1 May 2005, https:// policyoptions.irpp.org/magazines/defending-north-america/canada-andnorth-american-maritime-security-the-home-and-away-game-at-sea; Paul Viotti, “Toward a Comprehensive Strategy for Terrorism and Homeland Security,” in Terrorism and Homeland Security: Thinking Strategically about Policy, ed. Paul Viotti, Michael Opheim, and Nicholas Bowen (Boca Raton: crc Press, 2008), 4. The Madrid railway bombings took place on 11 March 2004. Spain accused the national Basque separatist group eta and even encouraged and endorsed a unanimous un Security Council resolution (s/res /1530 (2004)) accusing them of the attacks when it was, in fact Al Qaeda affiliates. 7/7 stands for the date of the Al Qaeda–inspired attacks in London on 7 July 2005. Four coordinated bomb attacks killed 50 people and injured more than 700. John McCoy and W. Andy Knight, “Homegrown Terrorism in Canada: Local Patterns, Global Trends,” Studies in Conflict and Terrorism 38, no. 4 (2015): 253–74, https://doi.org/10.1080/1057610X.2014.994349. Lorne Dawson and Amar Amarasingam, “Canadian Foreign Fighters in Syria and Iraq, 2012–16,” in Terrorism and Counterterrorism in Canada, ed. Jez Littlewood, Lorne L. Dawson, and Sara K. Thompson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2020), 54. Ramón Spaaij, “The Enigma of Lone Wolf Terrorism: An Assessment,” Studies in Conflict and Terrorism 33, no. 9 (16 August 2010): 854–70, https://doi.org/10.1080/1057610X.2010.501426. Brett Kubicek and Michael King, “The Canada Centre and Countering Violent Extremism,” in Top Secret Canada: Understanding the Canadian Intelligence and National Security Community, ed. Stephanie Carvin, Thomas Juneau, and Craig Forcese (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2020). Ryan Scrivens and Barbara Perry, “Resisting the Right: Countering RightWing Extremism in Canada,” Canadian Journal of Criminology and Criminal Justice 59, no. 4 (2017): 534–58, https://doi.org/10.3138/ cjccj.2016.0029. Jessica Davis, “Opinion: Incel-Related Violence Is Terrorism – and the World Should Start Treating It That Way,” Globe and Mail, 20 May 2020, https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/article-incel-relatedviolence-is-terrorism-and-the-world-should-start. For an overview of the idea of integration as a mode of governance in security, see Veronica Kitchen and Adam Molnar, “The Promise and Perils

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of Integrated Models of Public Safety in Canada,” in Social Networks, Terrorism, and Counter-Terrorism: Radical and Connected, ed. Martin Bouchard (London and New York: Routledge, 2015), 175–95. Intelligence and Security Committee, “Intelligence and Security Committee Report into the London Terrorist Attacks on 7 July 2005” (London: hmso, May 2006), https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/ uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/224690/isc_terrorist_ attacks_7july_report.pdf. John Steinbachs, “Police Forces Team Up,” Ottawa Sun, 13 October 2001. Allan Woods, “Four Antiterror Squads Launched,” Globe and Mail, 18 June 2002, https://www.theglobeandmail.com/incoming/fourantiterror-squads-launched/article1174151. The October Crisis refers to a chain of events that started in October 1970 when members of the separatist flq kidnapped the provincial labour minister Pierre Laporte, and British diplomat James Cross, and culminated in the enactment of the War Measures Act. Reg Whitaker, “Apprehended Insurrection? rcmp Intelligence and the October Crisis,” Queen’s Quarterly 100, no. 2 (1993): 383–406 at 387. See also Stephen Schneider and Christine Hurst, “Obstacles to an Integrated, Joint Forces Approach to Organized Crime Enforcement: A Canadian Case Study,” Policing: An International Journal 31, no. 3 (2008): 359–79 at 362, https://doi. org/10.1108/13639510810895759. Confidential interview, rcmp , 2009. Shandon Harris-Hogan, Kate Barrelle, and Andrew Zammit, “What Is Countering Violent Extremism? Exploring cve Policy and Practice in Australia,” Behavioral Sciences of Terrorism and Political Aggression 8, no. 1 (2016): 6–24, https://doi.org/10.1080/19434472.2015.1104710. Charlie Edwards, Calum Jeffray, and Raffaello Pantucci, “Out of Reach? The Role of Community Policing in Preventing Terrorism in Canada,” rusi Occasional Papers, 2015, 42–3, https://rusi.org/sites/default/ files/201502_op_out_of_reach.pdf; Jeffrey Monaghan, “Security Traps and Discourses of Radicalization: Examining Surveillance Practices Targeting Muslims in Canada,” Surveillance and Society 12, no. 4 (2014): 485–501 at 493, https://doi.org/10.24908/ss.v12i4.4557. For the rcmp ’s use of “pre-criminal space,” see, for instance, rcmp , “The rcmp and Prime Minister’s Youth Council Agree: ‘Personal Resilience’ Is Key to Countering Radicalization of Youth,” 30 October 2018, https:// www.rcmp-grc.gc.ca/en/news/2018/the-rcmp-prime-ministersyouth-council-agree-personal-resilience-is-key-countering?re=&

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wbdisable=true. For a discussion of the problems with this term, see Charlotte Heath-Kelly, “The Geography of Pre-Criminal Space: Epidemiological Imaginations of Radicalisation Risk in the UK Prevent Strategy, 2007–2017,” Critical Studies on Terrorism 10, no. 2 (2017): 297–319, https://doi.org/10.1080/17539153.2017.1327141. For a discussion of police outreach in Somali communities in Canada, see Sara K. Thompson and Sandra Bucerius, “When ‘Soft Security’ Is Smart: On the Importance of Building Strong Community–Police Relationships in the Context of National Security,” in Terrorism and Counterterrorism in Canada, ed. Jez Littlewood, Lorne L. Dawson, and Sara K. Thompson (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2020), 283–306. Seth G. Jones and Catrina Doxsee, “The Escalating Terrorism Problem in the United States,” csis Briefs (Washington, dc : Center for Strategic and International Studies, 17 June 2020), https://www.csis.org/analysis/ escalating-terrorism-problem-united-states. See also the Canadian Incident Database, at www.cidb.ca. Kamaldeep S. Bhui et al., “A Public Health Approach to Understanding and Preventing Violent Radicalization,” bmc Medicine 10, no. 16 (2012), https://doi.org/10.1186/1741-7015-10-16. Galib Bhayani and Sara K. Thompson, “smart on Social Problems: Lessons Learned from a Canadian Risk-Based Collaborative Intervention Model,” Policing: A Journal of Policy and Practice 11, no. 2 (June 2017): 168–84, https://doi.org/10.1093/police/paw040. Stewart Bell, “‘We Need to Get Ready’: rcmp Planning for Return of Canadian IsIs Members,” Global News, 27 February 2019, https:// globalnews.ca/news/5004932/rcmp-preparing-for-return-isis. Kanishka Project, https://www.publicsafety.gc.ca/cnt/ntnl-scrt/cntr-trrrsm/ r-nd-flght-182/knshk/index-en.aspx. Kubicek and King, “The Canada Centre and Countering Violent Extremism,” 183. Commission of Inquiry into the Action of Canadian Officials in Relation to Maher Arar, “Report of the Events Relating to Maher Arar: Analysis and Recommendations” (Ottawa: 2006), http://www.sirc-csars.gc.ca/pdfs/ cm_arar_rec-eng.pdf. “Kingston, Ont. youth pleads guilty to terror charges after January 2019 arrest,” ctv News Ottawa, 28 July 2020, https://ottawa.ctvnews.ca/ kingston-ont-youth-pleads-guilty-to-terror-charges-after-january-2019-arrest-1.5042495. Stewart Bell and Graeme Hamilton, “Third suspect related to alleged vIa Rail terror plan discussed bacteria plot to kill ‘100,000 People’:

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Documents,” National Post, 9 May 2013, https://nationalpost.com/news/ canada/fbi-arrested-third-suspect-related-to-alleged-via-rail-terror-plot. Jim Bronskill and Murray Brewster, “Jeffrey Delisle case: csIs secretly watched spy, held file back from rcmp ,” Toronto Star, 26 May 2013, https://www.thestar.com/news/canada/2013/05/26/jeffrey_delisle_case_ csis_secretly_watched_spy_held_file_back_from_rcmp.html. The Delisle case also points to the separate challenges of securely sharing information between Canadian security agencies, such as csIs and the rcmp . Canadian Press, “fBI tip led rcmp to thwart possible terrorist act by Aaron Driver in Strathroy, Ont.,” cbc News, 10 August 2016, https:// www.cbc.ca/news/canada/terror-threat-arrest-rcmp-1.3715969. Driver was a known IsIs supporter who was under a peace bond intended to curb further radicalization and prevent him from taking violent action. It prevented him from accessing the internet. In this case, the peace bond did not prevent him from planning a terrorist attack, which was halted by the rcmp before he could complete it, although he did manage to detonate an explosive device in a taxi and injure the driver. Adam Molnar, “The Geo-Historical Legacies of Urban Security Governance and the Vancouver 2010 Olympics,” Geographical Journal 181, no. 3 (2014): 235–41, https://doi.org/10.1111/geoj.12070. Chad C. Haddal, Border Security: The Role of the US Border Patrol (Washington, dc : Congressional Research Service, 11 August 2010), 23, https://www.fas.org/sgp/crs/homesec/RL32562.pdf. Veronica Kitchen and Kim Rygiel, “The Border as Mission: Canada, the United States and Post 9/11 Security Co-Operation” (unpublished manuscript, 2015). rcmp, “Canada–US Shiprider,” 25 June 2010, http://www.rcmp-grc.gc.ca/ ibet-eipf/shiprider-eng.htm. Kitchen and Rygiel, “The Border as Mission.” Ibid. Rachel Schmidt, “Investigating Implicit Biases around Race and Gender in Canadian Counterterrorism,” International Journal 75, no. 4 (December 2020): 594–613, https://doi.org/10.1177/0020702020976615. Catharine Tunney, “rcmp could easily identify officers accused of sexual assault, says former Supreme Court justice,” cbc News, 2 December 2020, https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/michel-bastarache-rcmp-sexualassault-1.5825438; Nick Westoll, “Toronto police officer wearing ‘Punisher’ skull patch on uniform faces disciplinary action,” Global News, 8 September 2020, https://globalnews.ca/news/7322616/ punisher-skull-patch-toronto-police-uniform; Morganne Campbell,

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“rcmp directive eliminates wearing of ‘Thin Blue Line’ patch while on duty,” Global News, 11 October 2020, https://globalnews.ca/news/ 7392282/rcmp-directive-thin-blue-line. Alison Howell, “Forget ‘Militarization’: Race, Disability, and the ‘Martial Politics’ of the Police and of the University,” International Feminist Journal of Politics 20, no. 2 (2018): 117–36, https://doi.org/10.1080/1461 6742.2018.1447310. Ainsley Hawthorn, “opInIon : If we want to reform our police forces, we have to overcome their history of racial violence,” cbc News, 17 October 2020, https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/newfoundland-labrador/ hawthorn-policing-opinion-1.5763826; Gary Kinsman and Patrizia Gentile, The Canadian War on Queers: National Security as Sexual Regulation, illustrated ed. (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2010). Since 1984, when csIs was created, the rcmp has been responsible for investigating cases related to national security, including espionage, subversion, and other crimes with a security nexus, including terrorism. See Greaves, this volume.

15 Two Steps Forward, Two Steps Back: Mexico’s North American Security Policy Athanasios Hristoulas

Especially since 9/11, security cooperation among the three North American trade partners has increased significantly. Much of that cooperation has been conducted on an ad hoc institution-to-institution basis rather than through formal arrangements. The ad hoc nature of cooperation in North America has made it easier for Mexico, Canada, and the United States to work together. Many of the informal policies are designed and implemented by mid- to high-level policy-makers, away from politicians, who are often likely to take electoral interests exclusively into account when designing security policy. A clear example of this is Donald Trump’s border wall to “defend” US sovereignty and national security.1 Most policy-makers contend that a more formal approach to border management is needed – that is, infrastructure that can adequately manage the inflow and outflow of people and cargo, rather than more security. According to this point of view, which was expressed by Seth Stodder, who was President Obama’s Assistant Secretary for Border, Immigration, and Trade Policy (2016) and, before that, Assistant Secretary of Homeland Security for Threat Prevention and Security Policy (2015–16), the problem at the southern border is the ad hoc implementation of technology and cooperation between Mexico and the United States. Moreover, the solution to the problem is increased cooperation and information-sharing.2 Security is a by-product of order, not the other way around. Thus, these officials favour the use of technology and bilateral/trilateral border management mechanisms. This is not to suggest that all decisions made by politicians ignore good public policy in favour of political considerations. Rather, what appears to be occurring is that the pop-

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ulist wave – especially in Mexico and the United States – is having an ongoing negative impact on the effective management of North American security threats and risks. By contrast, Canada’s decision to pursue a smart border agreement with the United States immediately after 9/11 has led to order and security. Canada’s political leaders recognized immediately that the canus border would very likely be severely affected by the terrorist attacks. Canada’s bureaucrats and specialists concurred. Working with the pjBd – a Canada–US binational mechanism designed to help the two nations develop a common understanding of, and workable approaches to, continental security and defence challenges – Canada’s political elite presented a smart border action plan to US authorities for approval and implementation. The end result has been a much more efficient, safe, and orderly border that is managed bilaterally. The entire process has been a win–win for politicians, bureaucrats, and indeed the public on both sides of the border. “Bad” politics can sometimes drive “bad” public policy. When that happens, it is probably the closest we get to a nightmare scenario as far as decision-making is concerned. The Trump administration’s political decision to detain and separate asylum-seeking Central American parents from their children was a horrific example of bad politics. And it was made worse by the decision by the US dhs to follow through with especially hard-line, zero-tolerance White House orders to apprehend and detain migrants and separate families. There are still children who, for a host of reasons, including poor record management, have not yet been reunited with their parents.3 This chapter explores how the three North American nafta partners have developed security mechanisms in the two-plus decades since 9/11. It examines how this process has been negatively affected by “bad” politics in the case of Mexico. When Mexico has moved two steps forward and had positive results, it has been because policies were designed for a particular purpose and implemented appropriately. Alternatively, the two or even three steps back have been made when populist presidents have crafted policies purely for political expediency. This analysis is timely, given that a populist president, Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador (Amlo), has taken the reins in Mexico. The final section of this chapter paints an especially negative picture of the future of security cooperation in North America as far as Mexico is concerned.

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h o w w e g o t here Immediately after the 9/11 attacks, interest developed in expanding nafta (known as nafta + in Mexico) and forming a so-called North American security perimeter. Mexico, in early October of 2001, under President Vicente Fox, stated that Mexico “considers the struggle against terrorism to be part of the commitment of Mexico with Canada and the United States to build within the framework of the North American free trade agreement a shared space of development, well-being and integral security.”4 Later that year, Jorge Castañeda, the foreign minister at the time, said that “Mexico would favour a continental approach to border security issues, extending a North American partnership that already operates at a trade level.”5 In the same speech, he signalled that the Mexican government would prefer to take perimeter security “as far as possible, but that depends on the Canadians and the Americans.” Even before 9/11, Castañeda had repeatedly proposed a deepening of the trilateral relationship to encompass security and political cooperation.6 Mexico was directly impacted by the attacks. Around 100 Mexicans were killed when the wtc towers collapsed.7 Also, Mexico was confronted with vehicle-by-vehicle inspection at the border which led to waiting times calculated not in hours, but in days.8 Immediately after the attacks, Mexico placed its armed forces on full readiness. As the days passed, it became clear that Mexico was not a target of Al Qaeda.9 The concern after that, in both the United States and Mexico, was that Al Qaeda would hire criminal organizations to help them cross the US border along many of the routes commonly used by undocumented migrants. The Mexican Navy had an additional concern – that the country’s offshore oil rigs could be targeted, and to this day, it maintains an ongoing deployment to protect oil companies’ installations in the Gulf of Mexico.10 Travellers from Muslim countries arriving at the country’s airports were immediately profiled, and many of them were placed under surveillance by Mexico’s intelligence service.11 Given the limited number of visitors, the resources for this ongoing operation were not excessive; even so, the practice was deeply troubling. To begin the process toward greater border management cooperation in line with statements made immediately following the terrorist attacks, Mexico signed its own version of the Smart Border agreement in 200212 (a thirty-two-point plan between Canada and the

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United States, and a twenty-two-point plan between Mexico and the United States). Mexico’s was designed to take a bilaterally coordinated approach to border management. Canadian decision-makers had opposed a trilateral approach, citing differences in the borders as well as different pre-9/11 policies. In 2005, in Waco, Texas, the three countries signed the Security and Prosperity Partnership (spp ).13 The leaders declared their desire to “develop new avenues of cooperation that will make our open societies safer and more secure, our businesses more competitive, and our economies more resilient.”14 The terrorist attacks had triggered a shift toward a more unified North America; the end result was three countries bound together not only by economic necessity but also by a desire to coordinate security, political, and perhaps even social policy.15 Mexico strongly supported closer integration with Canada and the United States; Canada was less enthusiastic. So instead, more regional integration beyond simply nafta became the goal of the three countries. Note that these formal arrangements posed a significant risk to Mexico’s political elites. Mexico had to deal with public sentiment as well as press coverage that was hostile to the idea of cooperating with the United States on these matters because it was viewed as a violation of the country’s sovereignty.16 Yet the Mexican government pushed forward, recognizing that, given the complicated events unfolding in the post-9/11 world, the country had little choice but to work toward a mutually beneficial deepening of the relationship. Taking the smart border agreements and the spp into account together, the North American security agenda seemed to be going quite well as of March 2005. The spp was meant to be a trilateral and permanent process for enhancing cooperation in North America. It had two main pillars. The first, the prosperity agenda, was designed to promote economic growth, North American competitiveness, and quality of life. The second, the security agenda, was intended to (1) protect North America against common external threats, (2) prevent and respond to threats internal to the region, and (3) enhance the efficient transit of goods, services, and people across the common borders.17 The spp established a number of working groups which were intended to implement the spp by consulting with stakeholders, setting the due dates for initiatives, and providing progress reports. Leaders of the three countries met six times over the four-year span of the agreement. Ambitious in design, the spp was referred to as

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nafta+ in Mexico. Yet in retrospect, it accomplished little, and by August 2009 the project had been terminated – its website was simply taken down, with no prior public warning. The reasons for the spp ’s demise are unclear, as none of the three governments released an official statement. The agreement, which had been signed under the G.W. Bush administration, had focused on terrorism, which was not a particular issue for either Mexico or Canada; those two countries had been motivated more by the economic promises of the partnership. When Barack Obama was elected US president in 2008, he wanted to shift US foreign policy away from anti-terrorism. A further problem with the agreement was that Mexico was making excessive demands on the United States for economic assistance and border concessions that simply could not be fulfilled.18 The plan had been based much more on political goodwill than on good public policy.19 From Mexico’s perspective, the spp initiative turned out to be the high point of North American cooperation. This was not the case with respect to Canada and the United States; they signed the Beyond the Border agreement in 2008, which moved these two partners further along with respect to integration – at the expense of Mexico.

m e x Ic o In n o r t h amer Ica In the immediate aftermath of 9/11, Mexico took steps to demonstrate its political solidarity with the United States. President Fox called G.W. Bush, and they spoke briefly about the attack. At the time, the Mexican government saw continental and border security as offering multiple opportunities in the areas of trade, security, migration, and even social development. Much like Canada, Mexico worried that enhanced security at the border would hurt free and open trade with the United States. However, although open and free trade was Mexico’s immediate concern when security cooperation was enhanced, a possible migration deal designed to regulate rather than criminalize the movement of people across the Mexican–US border was not far from the minds of Mexican decision-makers. A migration deal had been a priority for the Fox administration prior to the terrorist attacks.20 Mexican decision-makers hoped that giving the Americans what they wanted in security matters would have positive spill-over effects in other areas of concern to Mexico.

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When the smart border idea arose, Mexico approached both Canadian and US officials about the possibility of signing a trilateral border agreement. That idea was resisted by the Canadians, who argued that the challenges at the two borders were profoundly different and could not be addressed together in a single agreement. Mexican officials sensed that part of the problem for the Canadians had to do with the ongoing competition between the two countries over their particular bilateral relationship with the United States, which dated back to the original nafta negotiations in the early 1990s.21 Mexico soon found itself unable to keep up with the changes taking place in North America as a result of the 9/11 attacks. It had signed the border agreement, but there were some parts of it that to this day have not been fully implemented. This was not the case along the canus border. The twin agreements were similar, but it goes without saying that the canus version was much more comprehensive. The Mexican agreement included those aspects referring to smart border technology, pre-clearance, joint training and exercises, and intelligence-sharing with US authorities, much like the Canadian agreement. But it stopped there. It did not include biometrics, interoperability between agencies (including expansion of the IBet s), resident cards, refugee and asylum-seekers’ issues, and cooperation under nexus – all of which were part of the canus version.22 Two other obstacles limited Mexico’s ability to fulfil the promises made by President Fox immediately after 9/11. First, the Mexican government lacked the capacity to respond to the perceived terrorism threat. Mexico is a developing nation; by definition, it has less capacity than its two North American partners. Add to this, its constitution places strong restrictions on defence missions outside the country. Second, there was intense political infighting within the Fox administration between the different ministries. The decision-making structure of the state was saturated with personal and institutional competition. This meant that intense inter-agency competition existed at the crucial moment when Mexico was deciding how it would pursue North American security cooperation. Combined with the fact that the Mexican Congress was deeply divided, this led to a situation where the country’s leaders simply could not make any significant decisions. Even so, there was some institutional evolution to help Mexico manage the threat. In 2003, the Unit Specializing in Investigation of Terrorism, Collection, and Arms Trafficking (Unidad Especializada

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en Investigación de Terrorismo, Acopio y Tráfico de Armas; ueIta) was cobbled together from existing institutions and the Office of the Special Prosecutor for Organized Crime Investigation (Subprocuraduría Especializada en Investigación de Delincuencia Organizada; sIedo ).23 Also in 2003, Mexican special forces (marines) received anti-terrorist training from their US counterparts. Their main mission was to monitor the country’s maritime oil infrastructure in the Gulf of Mexico.24 Third, a new branch of the Mexican Ministry of the Treasury, Unidad de Inteligencia Financiera (the Intelligence Financial Unit; uIf ), was created in 2004. The uIf ’s main goal is to “prevent and fight the crimes of money laundering and financing of organized crime and terrorism.”25 However, unlike Canada, which created agencies similar to those of the United States, such as Public Safety Canada, Mexico continues, to this day, to manage the threat by creating specialized units in an ad hoc manner. The Mérida Initiative (mI ),26 announced in October 2007, is viewed as a turning point in US–Mexico relations – and most definitely a two-step-forward moment. It pledged US$1.5 billion over three years in military and law enforcement assistance to Mexico to combat organized crime. Never before had the United States earmarked so much money for military and police assistance to Mexico. Before the Mérida Initiative, Mexico was receiving an average of US$30 million27 in assistance from the US through the International Narcotics Control and Law Enforcement Agency. However, Mexico did not receive the money directly. Rather, it was used to purchase muchneeded military and law enforcement equipment, such as Blackhawk helicopters and armoured personnel carriers, as well as surveillance equipment, such as drones. Cooperation between the Mexican and US authorities, specifically in the area of training, increased dramatically as a result of the agreement. More than an assistance package, “the Initiative should be seen as a central element in a broader strategy of growing cooperation between the United States and Mexico to address a shared threat presented by organized crime.”28 Others have argued that the mI “serves as an important element in building confidence and cooperation between the two countries.”29 Once signed, it would be renewed every three years or so. The second phase of the project – known as Mérida 2.0 – placed more emphasis on reforms, institution-building, and social programs. The mI sought to place the problems of organized crime, drug trafficking, and the violence associated with both in a multination

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context. Unlike in the past, when the two countries blamed each other for not doing enough to stop the consumption, production, or trafficking of illegal drugs, the mI recognized that the United States and Mexico must share in the responsibility for the serious public security and public health problems associated with illegal drugs, and that the best approach was to cooperate with each other. Also, while Mexico and the United States had sometimes cooperated in the past, the mI marked the first time that Mexico had asked for US assistance to strengthen its institutional capacity to respond to organized crime.30 Ultimately, however, the program was cancelled by the Lopez Obrador administration, which saw it as a violation of Mexican sovereignty. The mI also carried great political risk for the administration of Felipe Calderon, for it amounted to an admission that the country needed help. The Mexican press and public opinion took it as an admission, by the government, that the country had lost sovereign control over parts of its own territory. Furthermore, there were significant concerns about the extent to which US authorities would be operating in Mexican territory – an expression of Mexico’s long-standing cultural paranoia. Calderon proceeded regardless, because, from a public policy standpoint, Mexico did need help to even begin to manage the very real threat posed by organized crime. Bullying its way forward against overly nationalistic Mexican public opinion, the government went ahead with the initiative.31 After Calderon left office in 2012, a seemingly more nationalist government returned to Mexico under Enrique Peña Nieto, whose campaign focused on a return to the country’s traditional political values of defence of sovereignty and maintaining a comfortable distance from the United States. But in the first trilateral meeting attended by Obama, held in Mexico, he came for only a few hours, flying back the same day, embarrassing Peña Nieto. Meanwhile, public disagreement between Peña Nieto and Prime Minister Stephen Harper of Canada over the issue of Mexican visas stoked Mexican public discontent.32 Mexican presidents may see North America as important, but the United States and Canada have not helped quell the Mexican public’s perception that they treat Mexico as a North American outsider.33 Notwithstanding his campaign rhetoric, Peña Nieto continued and even deepened the cooperation with the United States that had begun under Calderon. For instance, under Peña Nieto, Mexico sent

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liaison officers to usnorthcom to participate in a number of joint exercises focused on the Mexican border and Mexican waters.34 In addition, agreements were signed between the Mexican federal police and the US Border Patrol to jointly patrol the border, and the joint Canada–Mexico–US patrols in the Gulf of Mexico, initiated prior to 9/11, were enhanced. The US Drug Enforcement Administration (dea ) was instrumental in the capture of a number of Mexican drug kingpins, including “El Chapo.” The mI was expanded to include areas such as local law enforcement training and social cohesion programs in the most affected areas of Mexico. Finally, in 2016, after seemingly endless debates that had begun under Fox, Mexico decided to participate in UN peacekeeping operations (as observers for now). Other Western countries, including the United States, had been pressing Mexico to do this for a very long time. After all, Mexico had been on the UN Security Council five times authorizing such missions.35 Under Peña Nieto, Mexico also established the Ventanilla Unica (“single window”), intended to serve as the clearing house for information going through Mexican and US law enforcement agencies. Under this new policy, most of the country’s law enforcement agencies were required to report and clear any information they wished to share with US counterparts with Mexico’s Interior Ministry. All communications between US and Mexican agencies were to be filtered through this ministry. The idea was a good one – it was meant to centralize communication with the US and thereby avoid confusion, overlap, and even contradictory messaging. In practice, however, this effort eventually collapsed because the Interior Ministry simply did not have the resources to manage that amount of information. Also, the Mexican navy and army did not participate in the program even though they were Mexico’s answer to Homeland Security and were often assumed to be Mexico’s lead actors in North American cooperation. The differences between Calderon and Peña Nieto were more in style than in substance. Peña Nieto, fearing public backlash, especially in the context of his presidential campaign, downplayed any cooperation with the United States and made no announcements with respect to programs involving it. Information about programs was posted on government webpages but in a manner that made it difficult to find. It was often easier to get the information on what was happening in the bilateral relationship from US websites than

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from Mexico. Overall, under Peña Nieto, there was a serious attempt to move two steps closer toward cooperation with the United States, but he faced some significant challenges. All of that was about to change with the new populist and ultranationalist president Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador (Amlo), starting in 2018. The election of US President Donald Trump in 2016 altered the delicate balance that had been developed by leaders on both sides of the border. Trump declared Mexico to be a “enemy” and proposed a Berlin-style border wall along the Mexican border. Experts on the ground in the United States recognized that such a wall would do little if anything to resolve the security issues facing the two countries. When Amlo was elected Mexican president, a new “security law” mood swept the United States with disastrous results. The overlap of these two populist presidencies could have caused significant damage to the relationship. Instead, the opposite seemed to occur. Amlo and Trump were able to find common ground on a number of issues. First, the three North American countries were able to renegotiate a new trade agreement; indeed, Mexico’s congress was the first to pass nafta 2.0 into law (Tratado entre México, Estados Unidos y Canadá; tmec ). Keeping the border open was clearly a priority for Amlo. Second, the transmigration issue – which for decades had been a sore spot in bilateral US–Mexico relations – was finally put to rest as Mexico deployed federal troops to its southern border to stem the flow of Central American migrants into Mexico.36 The good news was that for much of 2018–19, nothing really changed on the ground as far as the public policy of security cooperation was concerned. However, in 2020 the United States and Mexico moved dramatically further apart on matters of security cooperation. Amlo had been critical of the mI during his electoral campaign but had left the program untouched until 2019, when Mexico formally withdrew.37 It is unclear why the Mexican government did this, given that it had agreed to stem the flow of migrants from Central America through Mexico and into the United States in 2017 and 2018. This necessarily implied a cost for Mexico that was at least partly covered by mI funding. It seemed fiscally irresponsible for the Mexican government to cancel the program in 2019, nor was it particularly good public policy.38 Under Amlo, Mexico also de-emphasized the battle against the drug cartels despite the rising levels of violence.39 Indeed, to the dismay of US officials, the Mexican government adopted a policy

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of “abrazos, no balazos” (hugs, not bullets),40 with questionable efficacy. Increasing homicide rates are wholly explained by guns entering Mexico illegally. By then, 40 per cent of illegal weapons in Mexico originated in the United States.41 More and more of them were now entering Mexico illegally from Asia and Central America. The Mexican government refused to acknowledge this reality, preferring to return to the 1970s-style anti-American rhetoric prevalent in Latin America. In similar style to the Trump presidency, Amlo had opted to put in place functionaries who were more interested in selling the pointless political idea of anti-Americanism than in designing and implementing adequate public policy.42 US–Mexico security cooperation had reached a low point. The former Mexican Secretary of National Defence, Salvador Cienfuegos Zepeda, was arrested at Los Angeles International Airport in October 2020 on organized crime and drug trafficking charges without the knowledge of the Mexican government.43 This is standard operating procedure so that individuals are not forewarned of a coming arrest. Two weeks later it was announced by Mexico’s foreign minister and by the US Attorney General that Cienfuegos Zepeda was being released and that he would be investigated and charged in Mexico.44 But the former secretary was not charged with anything in Mexico; indeed, the crisis resulted in significant adjustments to the freedoms exercised by US authorities in Mexico. As was so typical of him, Amlo had painted this as a populist issue of national pride and national sovereignty. He set out to punish the United States by restricting the activities of its law enforcement agencies in Mexico (two steps back) through a new law called the Ley de Seguridad (Security Law). That law strips US law enforcement in Mexico of any diplomatic immunity and compels its agents to share any intelligence they obtain with Mexican officials.45 The law is designed specifically to restrict the freedom of action of the fBI , dea , and Ice . It also requires that local, state, and federal Mexican agents inform the Mexican federal government of any telephone calls, meetings, or communications of any sort that they have with foreign agents within three days after they have taken place. The arrest of Cienfuegos Zepeda deeply wounded Mexican pride at a time when law enforcement activities were being co-opted by the Mexican military. Winning over public opinion about the new arrangements was complicated by this event. Criticisms of the military’s involvement in law enforcement had focused almost exclusively

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on the issue of human rights abuses. The issue of corruption within the military had rarely been raised. In fact, according to public opinion polls, the military had the highest reputation for honesty.46 The general’s arrest had the potential to be a game changer. In keeping with the “two steps back” theme, this law has halted all ongoing investigations and ultimately will increase the flow of drugs into the United States and lead to even more violence. There is also the fear that the law could cause US law enforcement agencies to create work-arounds that completely circumvent the law’s intent. The big winner here is, of course, the Mexican army, which will continue and probably increase its nefarious activities now that at least one more check on its unfettered powers has been neutralized.

a n d h o w It m Ig ht all end All politicians sacrifice good public policy for political gain to some degree. The Mexican presidencies discussed in this chapter are guilty as charged. Amlo, the ultranationalist populist president in power as of this writing, is especially dangerous because he has repeatedly shown a willingness to prioritize politics even if it results in extremely bad policy. Many of the programs implemented by his predecessors, such as the enhanced interinstitutional cooperation that took place under Fox and Calderon, the mI , “Ventanilla Unica,” and exercises with usnorthcom have now been scaled back or cancelled. Amlo has even picked a fight with President Joe Biden. First, he refused to recognize Biden’s victory until 15 December 2020. Second, in his letter finally congratulating Biden on his victory, he warned the new president that business was no longer to be as usual and that the days when the United States could systematically violate Mexican sovereignty were over. That letter, of course, was for domestic consumption in Mexico. It expressed profoundly bad public policy, nevertheless. It is important to note that Amlo has no incentive to punish cooperation with the United States as things stand right now. Mexican public opinion has matured significantly since the heyday of Cold War anti-Americanism. Mexicans do recognize that the particularly anti-Mexican rhetoric of the United States was Trump-specific. Also, the US–Mexican security institutions – which twenty-five years ago would have been inconceivable – have benefits in terms of training, exchanges of intelligence, and even joint operations. Many law enforcement agencies in Mexico

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would be the first to oppose any attempts by the Mexican president to undo them. The problem lies in the fact that the Mexico–US relationship simply has not generated the momentum to sustain itself through these political difficulties. Might the two steps back taken by Lopez Obrador be permanent? Time will tell. We now turn to Part Four, where we explore the implications of 9/11 on the defence of North America. no t e s

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The author would like to thank the invaluable research assistance of Ana Regina Nájera, Ines Gomez, and Nabila de la Cruz-Garcia. Panayota Gounari, “Authoritarianism, Discourse, and Social Media: Trump as the ‘American Agitator,’” in Critical Theory and Authoritarian Populism, ed. Jeremiah Morelock (London: University of Westminster Press, 2018), 207–28. Athanasios Hristoulas, “Episode 14: Ex Homeland Security Undersecretary and Border czar Alan Bersin,” 5 March 2017, The Security Perimeter Podcast, produced by Podomatic, mp 3 audio, 55:44, https://open.spotify.com/episode/5JTVazzHyRl7agXQmivxhe. Joseph V. Cuffari, cbp Separated More Asylum-Seeking Families at Ports of Entry Than Reported and for Reasons Other Than Those Outlined in Public Statements, special report prepared in response to congressional requests by the Office of Inspector General, Department of Homeland Security (29 May 2020), https://www.oig.dhs.gov/sites/default/files/ assets/2020-06/OIG-20-35-May20.pdf. Canadian Press, “Mexico would support shift to security perimeter with U.S. and Canada,” 2 February 2002, www.cp.org/english/hp.htm (site discontinued). Ibid. Ibid. “Casualties by Country,” Memorial Mapping: Transnational 9/11 Memorials, University of Notre Dame College of Arts and Letters, American Studies, http://www.memorialmapping.com/casualties-bycountry. Christopher Wilson, “The Lessons of Post-9/11 Border Management,” Wilson Center–Mexico Institute, 18 November 2015, https://www.wilsoncenter.org/article/the-lessons-post-911-border-management. Interview with an intelligence officer who prefers to remain anonymous.

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10 Carlos Reynoso Castillo, “Industrial Relations in the Oil Industry in Mexico,” International Labour Organization (2005), https://www.ilo.org/ wcmsp5/groups/public/---ed_dialogue/---sector/documents/publication/ wcms_161191.pdf. 11 Interview with an intelligence officer who prefers to remain anonymous. 12 Smart Border: 22 Point Agreement—US—Mexico Border Partnership Action Plan, 2002, prepared by the Office of the Press Secretary, The White House (Washington, dc , 21 March 2002). 13 Security and Prosperity Partnership of North America, 2005, prepared by The White House (Washington, dc , 23 March 2005). 14 Security and Prosperity Partnership of North America, 2005. 15 Andrés Rozental, “The Security and Prosperity Partnership: An Overview,” International Journal 61, no. 3 (2006): 541–4. 16 Rafael Fernández de Castro and Érika Ruiz Sandoval, eds, La agenda internacional de México 2006–2012. México en el mundo (Mexico City: Ariel, 2006). 17 James Thompson, Making North America (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2014), 3–4, 110. 18 Athanasios Hristoulas, “Why North American Regional Cooperation Will Not Work,” in The State and Security in Mexico: Transformation and Crisis in Regional Perspective, ed. Brian Bow and Arturo Santa Cruz (Toronto: Routledge, 2013). 19 Alicja Gluszek, The Security and Prosperity Partnership and the Pitfalls of North American Regionalism (Mexico: Universidad Autónoma de México, 2014), 20–2. 20 Emma Aguila, Alisher R. Akhmedjonov, Ricardo Basurto-Davila, Krishna B. Kumar, Sarah Kups, and Howard J. Shatz, “Moving Out: Historical Background of Mexican Migration Policy,” in United States and Mexico: Ties That Bind, Issues That Divide (Santa Monica: rand , 2012), 15–22. 21 Interview with a member of the nafta negotiation team who prefers to remain anonymous. 22 According to the rcmp ’s official Web page, the IBet program “is a multi-faceted law enforcement initiative comprised of both Canadian and American partners. This bi-national partnership enables the five core law enforcement partners ... to share information and work together daily with other local, state and provincial enforcement agencies on issues relating to national security, organized crime and other criminality transiting the Canada/US border between the Ports of Entry,” http://www.rcmp.ca/ security/ibets_e.htm.

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23 Saúl Hernández, “México y la Cooperación Internacional para la lucha en contra del terrorismo (2008–2013),” LXII Legislature of the Mexican Chamber of Deputies, Mexican Congress and the Online Parliamentary Researchers Network (Mexico City, 2014), 14. 24 Hernández, “México y la Cooperación Internacional,” 17. 25 Presentación Unidad de Inteligencia Financiera, 2015, prepared by the Mexican Ministry of Treasury (Secretaría de Hacienda y Crédito Público) (Mexico City, 24 September 2015), https://www.gob.mx/shcp/ documentos/shcp-unidad-de-inteligencia-financiera-uif. 26 The Mérida Initiative is a security cooperation agreement among the United States, the government of Mexico, and the countries of Central America, with the declared aim of combating the threats of drug trafficking, transnational organized crime, and money laundering. The US assistance includes training, equipment, and intelligence. 27 Andrew Selee, “Overview of the Merida Initiative,” Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, 7 May 2008, https://www.wilsoncenter. org/sites/default/files/media/documents/publication/overview_merida_ initiative.pdf. 28 Selee, “Overview of the Merida Initiative,” 2. 29 Eric Olson, “Six Key Issues in United States–Mexico Security Cooperation,” Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars (July 2008). 30 The Merida Initiative, December 2008, fact sheet prepared by the US Embassy in Mexico in July 2015, https://photos.state.gov/libraries/ mexico/310329/july15/MeridaInitiativeOverview-Jul15.pdf. 31 Ibid. 32 Julio César Rivas, “Harper viaja a México sin resolver dos serios “irritantes” con sus socios,” La Vanguardia (Mexico City), 16 February 2014, https://www.lavanguardia.com/politica/20140216/54401229925/ harper-viaja-a-mexico-sin-resolver-dos-serios-irritantes-con-sus-socios. html. 33 Georgina Olson and Jorge Ramos, “No hay región del mundo con más potencial que Norteamérica: Biden,” Excelsior (Mexico City), 21 February 2009. 34 Relayed to me by a Mexican Air Force officer who participated in the joint exercise and wishes to remain anonymous. 35 Mexico served in 1946, 1980–81, 2002–3, 2009–10, and 2021–22. 36 Perla Pineda, “Despliegue de la Guardia Nacional en la frontera sur inicia el lunes: Marcelo Ebrard,” El Economista (Mexico City), 8 June 2019.

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37 Jannet López Ponce, “amlo corrige a Durazo: no más Iniciativa Mérida,” Milenio (Mexico City), 8 May 2019. 38 Mary Speck, “Great Expectations and Grim Realities in amlo ’s Mexico,” Prism 8, no. 1 (2019): 68–81, https://www.jstor.org/ stable/26597311. 39 Arturo Angel, “En 2020, la violencia en México se mantuvo en niveles récord; en 11 estados aumentaron asesinatos,” Animal Político (Mexico City), 29 December 2020. 40 José Antonio Belmont, “Con ‘abrazos, no balazos,’ amlo promete reducir violencia,” Milenio (Mexico City), 12 April 2018. 41 National Centre for Analysis, Planning, and Intelligence against Organized Crime of the Attorney General’s Office of Mexico. 42 Mexican Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Secretaría de Relaciones Exteriores) is a good example of this. 43 Azam Ahmed, “Mexico’s former defense minister is arrested in Los Angeles,” New York Times, 16 October 2020, https://www.nytimes. com/2020/10/16/us/mexico-general-cienfuegos-dea.html; Kevin Sieff and Shayna Jacobs, “Mexico welcomes U.S. release of accused former defense minister, but episode has deepened mistrust on both sides,” Washington Post, 18 November 2020, https://www.washingtonpost.com/world/the_ americas/mexico-cienfuegos-drug-charges-dropped/2020/11/18/a0fbe72429af-11eb-8fa2-06e7cbb145c0_story.html. 44 Jorge Monroy, “Gobierno de México libera de cargos sobre narcotráfico al exsecretario de la Sedena, Salvador Cienfuegos,” El Economista (Mexico City), 14 January 2021, https://www.eleconomista.com.mx/ politica/Gobierno-de-Mexico-libera-de-cargos-sobre-narcotrafico-alexsecretario-de-la-Sedena-Salvador-Cienfuegos-20210114-0130.html; “Salvador Cienfuegos: claves de su liberación y regreso a México,” El Universal (Mexico City), 21 November 2020, https://www.eluniversal. com.mx/nacion/ salvador-cienfuegos-claves-de-su-liberacion-y-regreso-mexico. 45 David Agren, “Mexico: New security law strips diplomatic immunity from dea agents,” Guardian, 15 December 2020. 46 Kate Linthicum and Patrick J. McDonnell, “Mexico’s military gains power as president turns from critic to partner,” Los Angeles Times, 21 November 2020, https://www.latimes.com/world-nation/story/2020-1120/the-military-is-consolidating-power-in-mexico-like-never-before.

pa r t f ou r

Defence of North America

16 NORAD and 9/11: Looking Out, In, and Beyond Andrea Charron, James Fergusson, and Elizabeth St John

The 9/11 terrorist attacks on the United States laid bare all that was wrong with defence and security organizations on both sides of the canus border. The North American Aerospace Defense Command (norad ) was no exception: it lacked important civilian feeds of information that would allow personnel to “see” the internal North American air picture and react quickly to a crisis. This meant that a radical shift in thinking was needed by both militaries post-9/11. No one had imagined or foreseen a 9/11-style attack, and norad was fixated on air threats from outside North America. Even allowing all of that, the command had failed in its fundamental mission, which was to defend the airspace above the continental United States and Canada. In response to that failure, norad reoriented its approach toward the defence of North America; since then, successive norad commanders have championed the need to defend “the homeland.” There was never any doubt that norad would continue to exist; it was, and remains, essential to both the United States and Canada, though it has been overlooked and even forgotten at times. This chapter discusses how norad evolved both before and after 9/11 as well as ideas about “homeland defense,” as the Americans call it, or “continental defence,” as the Canadians call it. norad shifted from focusing exclusively on threats from away pre-9/11, to threats within North America post-9/11, and now to threats from away again. Each shift in thinking has addressed a particular immediate vulnerability while also opening possibilities for new blind spots to develop. It may look as if norad has simply reverted to its pre-9/11 self, but in fact, norad has fundamentally changed as a result of 9/11.

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n o r a d B e f o re 9/11 When it began operations in 1957, what was then the North American Air Defense Command was responsible for the air warning and air defence of the continental United States and Canada. The Distant Early Warning line, the main source of air information for norad , was slowly replaced by the North Warning System (nws ) beginning in 1985.1 The nws was one of the last major spending projects on norad assets until post-9/11.2 After the Cold War, there was a marked decline in the amount of air surveillance and the number of air sorties required, given that the main US adversary – the Soviet Union – no longer existed. norad now sought new missions, and given the United States’ focus on the “war on drugs” for much of the 1990s,3 it lent its air surveillance skills to assist with tracking small-engine aircraft, the primary means of smuggling drugs north from South America. The United States had no peer competitor in the 1990s (after all, it was “the end of history”).4 The 1990s was a decade of civil wars and of significant cuts to the US and Canadian military budgets. Both countries surmised that the best way to defend North America was to take the fight to other countries so as to stop the violence from spreading.5 norad now served as a just-in-case security blanket. After the Cold War, it was decidedly defence-minded, playing only a small role in the away fight. That meant it enjoyed a less frenetic operational tempo compared to overseas commands.6 In this environment, norad had a difficult time convincing either government to spend resources on upgrading sensors and computer systems and to consider homeland defence as important as the operations of other combatant commands. No attention was paid to the airspace above North America except for those times when norad was contacted directly by a Federal Aviation Administration (faa ) official and told that a plane had “squawked” the hijack code or was unresponsive. Otherwise, attention on both sides of the border was “up and out.” norad was technically blind during 9/11, for it lacked vital direct feeds of information from the faa and navcanada that would show the internal North American air picture. norad ’s aging and limited tracking radar algorithms, designed to prioritize tracks coming at North America, could not absorb any new tracks, which had to be manually inputted and meant deleting an existing track. The years of financial neglect and reliance on old technology would have dire consequences.

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9/11 norad’s procedures, after detecting a threat, are to assess the nature of the attack, deploy national resources dedicated to the command, and execute the air defence of North America on a regional basis. On 9/11, needing to react quickly, and based on information coming from mainly civilian sources, the immediate norad response was from one of its sectors rather than from norad headquarters in Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. The US Northeast Air Defense Sector (neads ) under norad Continental Aerospace Command Region (conr ) was the first to be notified of a rogue plane. The US responses were investigated and documented in the 9/11 Commission Report, but scant attention was paid to Canada.7 Yet Canada was central to norad ’s response on 9/11. Canadian Major-General (at the time) Eric Findley (rcaf ), the norad Director of Operations, made norad ’s initial decisions on behalf of the United States and Canada on that historic day. norad Commander General Ralph Eberhart (usaf ) was still en route to the mountain when the first plane hit the Twin Towers. The Deputy Commander of norad , Lieutenant-General Ken Pennie (rcaf ) was in Washington, dc , on the morning of 9/11, having spent 10 September at the Pentagon attending meetings prior to flying back to norad headquarters later that day. norad was engaged in an annual exercise called Exercise vIgIlant guardIan . It was still in progress on the morning of 9/11 but was quickly terminated in the aftermath of the attacks. Russia, which also had an exercise planned that morning and had been probing norad defences in response to the latter’s exercise, cancelled its counter air manoeuvres and assured everyone that they had no part in what was taking place. The question of how extensive the 9/11 attacks would become forced the United States to declare Defense Condition 3 (defcon 3) for its troops globally. This entailed a rapid increase in military preparedness and the implementation of high force protection and cybersecurity conditions. General Findley, at the norad operational headquarters in Cheyenne Mountain, convened an air threat conference to ensure better situational awareness among all norad regions and air defence sectors, as well as other participants. He initiated air patrols over North American cities and other potential targets (including the White House), codified as Operation noBle eagle (one ). The Canadian norad Region (canr ) and the 1 Canadian Air Division

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Commander in Winnipeg coordinated the rcaf response in Canada.8 canr was commanded by Major-General Steve Lucas (rcaf), but he was at Canadian Forces Base Bagotville on 11 September. BrigadierGeneral Angus Watt (rcaf ), the canr Director of Operations, was quick to declare that every available fighter was operationally ready for employment. Discussions with Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chrétien were initiated should a terrorist attack come to Canada and the pilots need permission to intercept rogue planes.9 By the end of the day, the airspace across North America was closed except for military and emergency flights.

p o s t - 9 / 11 North America had been attacked, and norad hadn’t seen it coming. This failure launched a series of committees to reconsider what it meant to “defend” North America – the United States in particular.10 At no time, however, was there any talk of norad being dissolved. Rather, attention quickly turned to reversing the years of budget cuts that had resulted in an inadequate air picture of North America. Millions of dollars were pledged by Washington to increase the number of data feeds into norad headquarters, including direct feeds from the faa and navcanada . Also, faa personnel would be assigned to the norad watch floor in Colorado Springs. It was also recognized that faa radars needed upgrading, for they had depended too heavily on secondary transponders from cooperative aircraft, and the 9/11 hijackers had turned those off to avoid detection. The faa had lost the aircraft immediately and had had a hard time finding them again.11 It would take years of investment to complete the final upgrades before norad finally acquired an integrated internal and external air picture of North America. norad could now see both “out” and “in.” At the same time, the US Unified Command Plan (ucp ) was re-examined and reconfigured. The ucp divides the world into geographic and functional commands (although in 2021, those adjectives were dropped) and assigns a four-star US general/admiral to provide command and control over its forces. General Richard Myers (usaf ), then Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (cjcs ), had been the norad Commander from 1998 to 2000, and he was keenly aware of the importance of norad and the indivisibility of North American airspace. While a review of the ucp had been planned

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prior to 9/11, General Myers suggested that now was the appropriate time to consider a new ucp configuration.12 Canada’s Minister of Defence Art Eggleton, aware of the planned ucp review, wrote to Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld in October, remarking that it would be useful for us to meet soon to review how we can best move forward on the defence and security agenda of North America. This would be especially useful before you come to any final conclusions with respect to changes in your Unified Command Plan. This is something that might have an impact not only on our partnership in norad but also on any potential new arrangements we might consider in the broader context of responding to new challenges in our security environment.13 The US Quadrennial Defense Review (qdr ), published on 30 September 2001, underscored the importance of homeland defence and even mentioned the need to keep US commitments to norad . This was a rare reference to the binational command in US defence doctrine.14 During considerations of a new US homeland defence command, the issue of norad , and thus Canada’s relationship, emerged. On the one hand, norad could be the solution for an integrated binational, multidomain defence command. This would, of course, require Canadian agreement. On the other, there was the option of a separate US homeland defence command which would involve reviewing norad ’s role as the air defence component and its relationship to the new command. On 17 April 2002, Rumsfeld and Myers announced changes to the ucp . A new combatant command, usnorthcom , was created and assigned the mission to defend the continental United States (the lower forty-eight states, Alaska, and US territories such as Puerto Rico) and provide the full range of Defense Support to Civil Authorities (dsca ) – that is, military support to state governors during crises and natural disasters. US Joint Forces Command, formerly responsible for land and maritime continental defence and assistance to civil authorities, shifted its focus to transforming US military forces. useucom took over more of the European side of the Atlantic and extended into the Arctic 15 (figure 16.1). As for norad , its relationship with usspacecom , whose commander was dual-hatted, was severed. The usnorthcom Commander would now be dual-hatted as usnorthcom and

Figure 16.1 | ucp as of 17 April 2002.16

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norad Commander. norad thus maintained its aerospacee defence role for North America, which limited usnorthcom ’s continental defence mission to the land, maritime, and cyber domains.17 norad’s centrality to the air defence of North America was clearly ingrained in Canadian and US thinking. There is little evidence that scrapping norad in favour of strictly national responses was ever considered. Even so, the marriage of norad to usnorthcom created a politically problematic image that norad had simply become the subordinate air arm of a US-only command. That image was only reinforced by the presence of a combined norad and usnorthcom headquarters at Peterson Air (now Space) Force Base in Colorado Springs18 and the integration of a usnorthcom -norad Command Center (nc2c ). Canadian norad personnel served alongside US norad and northcom personnel in all functional areas, except in the norad operations directorate (n/j3 ), given the very different mandates of the two commands.19 Partly to allay the resulting image problem, Canada and the United States established an overarching tricommand structure consisting of norad , usnorthcom , and Canada Command (cancom ); the latter was subsequently replaced by Canadian Joint Operations Command (cjoc ). In addition to a new ucp , Defense Secretary Rumsfeld tasked norad with examining deeper and broader canus North American defence cooperation, which Canada subsequently agreed to with the signing of the Canada–United States Agreement for Enhanced Military Cooperation in December 2002.20 norad responded initially by establishing a binational planning cell and upgrading it to a binational planning group (Bpg ) under the Deputy Commander of norad , General Pennie. Given the need to consult with both Canada and the United States on all decisions relating to norad , the planning cell was a logical solution. The Bpg issued an interim report in 2004, followed by a final report in 2006. Both reports examined and made recommendations regarding the full scope of possible, expanded canus /North American defence and security cooperation. The Bpg found that, from national perspectives, both Canada and the United States had already articulated the need for enhanced security cooperation in their national strategy documents, as well as in the Security and Prosperity Partnership (spp ) signed by Canada, the United States, and Mexico in 2005.21 In this context, norad seemed the optimal

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organization to address the gaps in national policies because it was an extant agreement that did not require new funding sources or yet another new organization. norad also had the crucial continental mandate and had proven to be a flexible organization. However, the Bpg also recognized that norad was focused solely on the aerospace domain. Crude cruise missiles, and cargo ships carrying large quantities of explosives or nuclear weapons, could be employed by terrorists to strike at North American ports, and their cargoes could be transported along the North American rail network to strike at inland targets. Given that norad had provided the functional solution to the air defence issue in the wake of 9/11, it was the obvious functional response to have norad warn about threats emanating from the maritime domain. In addition, long-standing maritime cooperation between the Royal Canadian Navy (rcn ) and the US Navy (usn ), as well as between the countries’ respective Coast Guards, and long-standing bilateral protocols on land cooperation in response to natural disasters, reinforced the viability of a hypothetical all-domain North American Defence Command – even the acronym could remain unchanged. In the end, only the recommendation concerning maritime warning was adopted and added to the norad mission suite on the occasion of the 2006 norad Renewal Agreement. This was not as far-reaching as it could have been; nonetheless, it was a significant step away from norad ’s function as strictly an aerospace and air force institution. In addition, norad was renewed in perpetuity, which eliminated political issues, especially in Canada, that always attended the long-standing five(ish)-year renewal process. In its place, the parties agreed that either could initiate a review of the agreement at any time but at least every four years.22 Operationally, however, norad ’s focus remained on the airspace, above the continental United States especially but also above Canada, evident with thousands of one sorties. one , which soon became institutionalized, was a decidedly US phenomenon conducted by Air National Guard assets (in the main) assigned to norad. Olympics, Super Bowls, g8, and nasa launch events, all held within North America, summoned increased air surveillance coordinated by norad . The events of 9/11 also compelled heightened attention to terrorism, especially Sunni-based terrorism, given that Al Qaeda had orchestrated those attacks. This almost exclusive focus on

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one particular subgroup proved to be incredibly short-sighted and unproductive for norad , for this form of terrorism was and remains extremely rare in North America. Nevertheless, guests of the norad Combat Operations Center (now combined with the usnorthcom Joint Operations Center as nc2c and, as of 2006, based out of Peterson Space Force Base rather than Cheyenne Mountain – now the alternate command centre) were treated to a glance at the “subway” chart – a timeline of all the terrorist acts that had taken place in the continental United States. It looked like a city metro plan, but only Sunni-based forms of terrorism were indicated. A focus on this one particular threat source within norad made sense in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, for it recognized that Al Qaeda viewed civilian air carriers as a soft target. However, such a narrow view of the threat spectrum discounted the fact that civilian aviation has been targeted by non-Sunni threats in the past (Lockerbie, Air India) and may be targeted by other non-Sunni sources in the future as threats to the homeland continue to diversify. Successive norad and usnorthcom commanders have continued to worry about staying ahead of threats to North America. An omnibus norad Next study was initiated by Army General Charles Jacoby Jr, norad and usnorthcom Commander (2011–14), to study and promote modernization efforts within the command toward 2025–30, but this study never came to full fruition. norad’s maritime warning mission was slow to be accepted both within and outside norad , given that norad had always been considered an (exclusively) air force command. Not until 2010 did it issue its first maritime warning, which really didn’t fit well with the need to simply warn about a vessel of interest. norad ’s first maritime warning case involved the m/v Sun Sea, a Thai cargo ship carrying 492 Sri Lankan asylum-seekers, which had been tracked off the coast of British Columbia by national agencies and norad . After that incident, norad created another form of maritime communication, the norad Maritime Advisory message, which enables norad to advise the two governments and binational mission partners of an emerging threat to allow agencies more time to plan.23 But norad ’s attention was about to shift again; 2014 was an inauspicious year.

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n o r a d t u r n s o u tward agaI n a n d In t o m o r e o f Its new s elf In 2007, Russia resumed its long-range aviation patrol activities around the North American Arctic and down the continental coastlines. The number of sorties it sent out increased year after year.24 The Russians also began deploying a new generation of long-range, advanced air- and sea-launched cruise missiles (a/slcm s); subsequently they began testing hypersonic weapons. All the while, they were making major investments in modernizing their nuclear and conventional forces. Around this time, political relations with Russia began to deteriorate, occasioned by the 2008 Georgian War, which was followed by the 2014 Russian annexation of Crimea, military support to the Eastern Ukrainian secessionist movement, and interventions in Syria’s civil war. In this context, General Jacoby’s successor, Admiral William Gortney, usn (2014–16), came into office determined to compel norad to reconsider how it operated. He started by forcing changes to an otherwise predictable annual norad exercise called vIgIlant shIeld, typically held in the fall.25 Gortney was trying to force norad to consider not only bona fide attacks on North America, but also many attacks at the same time or in quick secession, to test the limits of norad ’s command and control architecture. In addition, he forced a new command and control structure onto the exercise, reflecting his experience with uscentcom as a Combined Forces Air Component Commander (cfacc ). Gortney’s successor, General Lori Robinson (usaf ) (2016–18), took a similar approach. Besides pushing the cfacc concept forward, she initiated a follow-on to the defunct norad Next study to consider the defence of North America beyond simply a norad centric review. The Evolution of North American Defense (evonad ) was an ambitious study, blessed by the pjBd , that tasked norad , usnorthcom, cjoc, and the norad regions and subordinates, as well as the defence departments on both sides of the border, with examining future requirements in all domains (air, land, maritime, space, cyber, and cognitive, the latter being the domain where mis-, dis-, and mal-information is perpetuated). Robinson, who had been the Air Component Commander in uspacom, exercised – in subsequent vIgIlant shIeld Exercises –

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a norad cfacc , co-located with norad Continental Regional Command (conr ) in Tyndall, Florida. A cfacc was necessary because of increased Russian activities challenging North America, which threatened norad ’s ability to detect, deter, defend, and defeat. In testimony to the Senate Armed Services Committee in 2017, General Robinson stated:

usnorthcom and norad operate in a strategic environment that is as ambiguous and dangerous as any in our recent history. Threats to the United States and Canada are increasingly global, transregional, all-domain, and multi-functional in nature. Forged by an indispensable partnership, the Commands operate both independently and synergistically, conducting complementary missions with a shared purpose of common defense. The synergies that exist between the two Commands enable us to conduct our missions expeditiously and seamlessly in the face of very real threats.26 The cfacc is designed to harmonize operations across the entire (global) norad area of operations (ao ) through a single commander rather than via three independent regional norad commanders. This ensures that the norad Commander is able to think “up and out” rather than “down and in” on details such as air tasking orders. The norad cfacc concept was later blessed by then Canadian Chief of the Defence Staff General Jonathan Vance and US Secretary of Defense James Mattis in 2018 on the sixtieth birthday of norad under its existing Terms of Reference. Since then, however, the cfacc idea has been put in a holding pattern, attention having turned to the need for more sensors in all domains to be linked together so as to provide a more complete operating picture. The goal is to see deeper into time and space so that threats can be picked up earlier and the norad Commander has more time to prepare options. Russia had long been a threat to North America, and now China was emerging as another – indeed, as the most formidable peer competitor (the pacing competitor) to the United States complete with advanced technologies, such as a/slcm s and hypersonic weapons. Robinson’s replacement, General Terrence O’Shaughnessy (usaf ) (2018–20), echoed her belief that homeland defence needed to be

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made a priority at every opportunity. North America’s avenue of approach was no longer safe, and the Arctic was no longer a “fortress.” Indeed, he was so concerned about the vulnerability of North America to this threat environment that, upon his retirement, along with then current Deputy Director of norad Operations (Brigadier General Peter Fesler, usaf ), he penned a White Paper on “hardening the shield and wielding the sword” of homeland defence.27 In that paper, which was directed primarily at a US audience, they argued that the credibility of the North American deterrent was in serious question, because adversaries were now able to “pin” US military capabilities and assets in North America. Ironically, twenty years after 9/11, their call to defend the homeland more robustly was fixed decidedly outward, as was norad ’s attention. Echoing arguments made by previous commanders dating back to Jacoby, they called for norad to be “modernized,” including its command and control structures. Also, the outdated North Warning System (nws ) needed to be replaced with multidomain sensors and access to all-domain awareness via new data links and systems to move large amounts of information quickly and effectively. Of course, norad modernization has been on both countries’ defence agendas for several years, though it has yet to move significantly beyond the exploratory stage as of 2022.28 It is an open question whether the consistent calls for investment in modernizing norad and North American defence by previous commanders as well by the present norad and usnorthcom Commander, General Glen D. VanHerck (usaf ) (2020–), will ensure that homeland defence is an, if not the, investment priority for both countries. The Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022 has helped highlight the vulnerability of all states (including North America) to armed attack, but as the aggression against Ukraine drags on, the concern is that attention will return to an “away” focus rather than remain on continental defence. Notwithstanding the technological barriers faced by system integration, modernization will be costly, especially for Canada, and especially in light of post-pandemic fiscal challenges. norad modernization will still have to compete with other defence priorities on both sides of the border and overcome a shared culture at senior political and military levels that has long prioritized the “away” game over the “home” game.

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c o n c l u sIon At its core, norad remains a “functional” solution to the problem of how to best coordinate the air defence efforts of Canada and the United States so as to create a single, effective system of continental air defence. A maritime warning function has been added, but it gets very little attention from either Canada or the United States. norad began its operational life squarely focused on the Arctic approaches to North America and the threat from the Soviet Union. The events of 9/11 demanded a rethink of norad ’s priorities and operations. Operation noBle eagle (one ) necessarily drew the attention of norad to surveille the airspace within North America in ways it had never done before. one ensured that norad assets were ready to enforce and defend temporary air restriction zones above cities like Washington, dc , or wherever the potus travelled in North America, as well as above critical infrastructure. Major international events in Canada (such as the 2010 Winter Olympics and the g7 meetings at Kananaskis in 2002, Muskoka in 2010, and Charlevoix in 2018), demanded additional air surveillance in ways not previously considered by norad . With the return of great power competition and the US focus on its deterrence credibility coupled with new technologies that allow an attack on North America from anywhere in the world, norad’s attention has necessarily shifted outward, so that today it looks more like its old self. However, it would be an error to assume that norad has reverted to its pre-9/11 self. norad today is unlike the norad of the past. As a function of the legacy of 9/11, and its relationship with usnorthcom, norad can no longer be understood as a simple, single domain facing a single threat, or as exclusively an arm of the air force. Today’s norad is involved in other domains, confronts multiple, evolving threats, and engages with a range of non–air force actors, inside and outside the organization. Most importantly, the rest of the US military command structure is beginning to prioritize homeland defence, in recognition that norad is the air domain solution. What is more, it is clear that by means of new aI -inspired projects, such as “Pathfinder,”29 the United States is determined to achieve information dominance and is not afraid to rethink the ucp , including its relationships with other organizations such nato , other partners (e.g., Greenland in the

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future?), and the other unified commands. Canada, while still banking on the quality versus quantity argument, is contributing where it can to assist with modernization efforts – for example, by installing new over-the-horizon radar systems, selecting a replacement for cf-18 fighters (on guard during 9/11) and improving communication links in the Arctic. A lack of Canadian funding and disastrous procurement records on both sides of the border are the obvious brakes on modernization. At a time when both economies are suffering the worst recession since the 1930s because of the Covid-19 pandemic, both militaries are expected to do more with less. This is perhaps why the new norad and usnorthcom Commander, VanHerck, is interested in exploiting information and making the most of any and all data available to current systems and sensors via aI algorithms and systems, such as Pathfinder.30 norad is determined to seek out any and all advantages to ensure that they have “the Watch.” Given that 9/11, a failure for norad , was not enough to see it “disappear,” the question is whether anything could jeopardize norad. As has always been the case for its sixty-plus years of operations, it is marginalization that could be its undoing. If Canada and the United States do not continue to value its role and invest in its capabilities, norad will become obsolete relative to the threats it faces. Apathy is norad ’s worst enemy. no t e s 1 Secretary of Defense Caspar W. Weinberger and Canadian defence minister Erik Nielsen signed the North American Air Defense Modernization Memorandum that authorized the building of the nws . See norad , A Brief History of norad as of 13 May 2016 (Office of the Command Historian: norad , 2016), 26, https://www.norad.mil/ Portals/29/Documents/History/A%20Brief%20History%20of%20 norad_May2016.pdf?ver=2016-07-07-114925-133; Marina Devine, “As It Happens,” cbc , 16 July 1993, https://www.cbc.ca/archives/entry/ dew-line-handed-over-to-canada. 2 The other was the building of Canada’s Canadian norad regional headquarters in Winnipeg in the late 1990s, when Canada announced the planned transition of Canadian norad Region (canr ) headquarters’ functions to a consolidated 1st Canadian Air Division and Canadian norad Region Headquarters (1cad/canr hq) in April 1996. Region

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Air Operations Center, North Bay, Ontario, transferred operational responsibilities to the new Canadian norad Region (canr ) Headquarters in Winnipeg on 1 April 1997. norad , A Brief History of norad as of 13 May 2016 (Office of the Command Historian: norad , 2016), 26, https://www.norad.mil/Portals/29/Documents/History/A%20 Brief%20History%20of%20NORAD_May2016. pdf?ver=2016-07-07-114925-133. norad Anti-Drug Network Standard Operating Procedure, 22 May 1996, https://www.hsdl.org/?abstract&did=437534. This is in reference to Francis Fukuyama’s famous essay, which became a book titled The End of History and the Last Man (New York: Free Press, 1992). Written by Lieutenant-Colonels Huba Wass de Czege and L.D. Holder, Field Manual 100-5 Operations 1982 (Washington, dc : Headquarters, Department of the Army, 1982) outlined the Air Land Battle, which was essentially based on a philosophy of “deep attack,” whereby American forces would disrupt a Soviet attack by striking and destroying enemy tanks behind the Soviet lines. The 1990s kept that same thinking, but now it was in response to fighting rebels in civil wars. The 1986 Field Manual 100-5 Operations was similar to the 1982 version. See Andrew A Gallo, “Understanding Military Doctrinal Change during Peacetime” (PhD diss., Columbia University, 2018), 168–72, https://www.google.com/ search?client=firefox-b-d&q=US+military+doctrine+%2B+1990s. norad did provide warning of scud missile attacks to Central Command, which alerted the forward deployed patrIot batteries during the 1991 Gulf War. Since then, norad has been replaced by forward deployed warning systems. The 9/11 Commission report noted that norad ’s planning scenarios occasionally considered the danger of a hijacked aircraft being guided to US targets, but only aircraft coming from overseas. The 9/11 Commission Report: Final Report of the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States (9/11 Report) (New York: W.W. Norton, 22 July 2004). The Royal designation did not return until 2011. It remains classified who had the final authority from the onset until now to order a hijacked civilian aircraft to be shot down. Confidential sources suggest that this differs between Canada and the United States. Canadian authority appears to remain vested with the prime minister, and US authority with the Secretary of Defense.

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10 For the first time ever, nato assets were deployed to the United States to help defend the airspace and prevent another attack. Following the 9/11 terrorist attacks against the United States in 2001, nato provided seven nato Airborne Early Warning and Control Systems Aircraft (awacs ) to the United States to help defend its airspace and prevent further attacks. Called Operation Eagle Assist, this counter-terrorist initiative began on 9 October and was terminated on 16 May 2002. Over seven months, 830 crew members from 13 nato countries patrolled US skies for 4,300 hours in more than 360 operational sorties. See nato , “The Day After,” 2 November 2016, https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/declassified_137124.htm. 11 faa radars had not been “tuned” to get raw data for years, so they were only efficient with cooperative targets using transponders, which amplify the radar return signal. 12 This was followed up with a twenty-four-star letter (representing six fourstar generals) to Secretary Rumsfeld advocating for a ucp review. Edward J. Drea et al., History of the Unified Command Plan: 1946–2012 (Washington, dc : Joint History Office, Office of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, 2013), 81, https://www.jcs.mil/Portals/36/Documents/ History/Institutional/Command_Plan.pdf. 13 Letter to Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld from Minister of Defence Art Eggleton. Dated 31 October 2001. atIr A-2001 – 00360. Originally found n Philippe Lagasse, “A Common Bilateral Vision,” in Game Changer: The Impact of 9/11 on North American Security, ed. Jonathan Paquin and Patrick James (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2014), 209n2. 14 Department of Defense, Quadrennial Defense Review (Washington, dc , 30 September 2001), 18, https://archive.defense.gov/pubs/qdr2001.pdf. 15 useucom had had responsibility for most of Africa since the end of the Second World War. usafrIcom was declared fully mission capable on 1 October 2008. A vestige of the eucom legacy, usafrIcom ’s headquarters remain in Germany. 16 Edward J. Drea, Ronald H. Cole, Walter S. Poole, James F. Schnabel, Robert J. Watson, and Willard J. Webb, History of the Unified Command Plan 1946–2012 (Washington, dc : Joint History Office, Office of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, 2013), https://www.jcs.mil/ Portals/36/Documents/History/Institutional/Command_Plan.pdf; Global Security, “Unified Command Plan,” n.d., https://www.globalsecurity.org/ military/agency/dod/unified-com.htm. 17 At the time, the location of the new command was still to be decided. Canadian officials feared that a move to Washington dc might

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marginalize norad in favour of issues facing the new US command. Info memo, Principal Deputy usd (Policy) for DepSecDef, usc (Policy), Unified Command Plan 2002 and Canada (U), 6 February 02, S, doc 1677uepl, Feith Papers, Special Collections Library, ndu as outlined in Edward J. Drea et al., History of the Unified Command Plan: 1946–2012 (Washington, dc : Joint History Office, Office of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, 2013), 84, https://www.jcs.mil/Portals/36/Documents/ History/Institutional/Command_Plan.pdf. It was named the Eberhart–Findley Building in honour of US Air Force General (Ret.) Ralph E. Eberhart and Royal Canadian Air Force Lieutenant-General (Ret.) Eric A. Findley to mark the importance of 9/11. norad has always shared space with a US command – norad and conad, norad and adcom, norad and usspacecom – so norad and usnorthcom was nothing new. The separation of the J-3 was primarily a function of usnorthcom ’s differing missions, including its ballistic missile defence mission, which Canada had decided not to participate in, and its dsca missions. In the nato system, different functions are assigned a number. E.g., Intelligence is 2, Operations is 3, and so on. Binational Planning Group, “Executive Summary,” Interim Report on Canada and the United States (canus ) Enhanced Military Cooperation (13 October 2004), 5. The Security and Prosperity Partnership of North America (spp ) was launched by the leaders of Mexico, Canada, and the United States in March 2005. It aimed to improve cooperation and information-sharing for the purpose of increasing and enhancing security and prosperity in the three states. Agreement Between the Government of Canada and the Government of the United States of America on the North American Aerospace Defense Command (E 105060) 28 April 2006. See Article III. The first renewal of the agreement came in March 1968. The norad Agreement has been reviewed, revised, renewed, or extended several times since then: May 1973; May 1975; May 1980; March 1981 (when the name was changed to “North American Aerospace Defense Command”); March 1986; April 1991; March 1996; June 2000; and May 2006, when the agreement was signed in perpetuity. National Maritime Intelligence-Integration Office (nmIo ), “Technical Brief,” 2 April 2012, 7, http://nmio.ise.gov/docs/NMIO_QuarterlyVOL2. pdf.

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24 Frédéric Lasserre and Pierre-Louis Têtu, “Russian Air Patrols in the Arctic: Are Long-Range Bomber Patrols a Challenge to Canadian Security and Sovereignty?,” in 2016 Arctic Yearbook, ed. Lawson Brigham, Heather Exner-Pirot, Lassi Heininen, and Joël Plouffe, https:// arcticyearbook.com/arctic-yearbook/2016; Mathieu Boulège, Russia’s Military Posture in the Arctic: Managing Hard Power in a “Low Tension” Environment (London; Chatham House Russia and Eurasia Program, 2019), https://www.chathamhouse.org/sites/default/files/2019-06-28 Russia-Military-Arctic_0.pdf. 25 Vigilant Shield is the annual norad war-gaming exercise, which also includes, in varying degrees, other Canadian and American commands, including on a biennial basis US Strategic Command (usstratcom ). Exercise Vigilant Shields 16 and 17 (held in the fall of 2015 and 2016 respectively) employed a new command-and-control process by vesting air-tasking authority (control) initially to Continental norad Region. 26 General Lori J. Robinson, Commander, “norad and usnorthcom Testimony to the Senate Armed Services Committee Posture Hearing” (6 April 2017), 3, https://www.armed-services.senate.gov/imo/media/doc/ Robinson_04-06-17.pdf. 27 Gen. (Ret.) Terrence O’Shaughnessy and Brig.-Gen. Peter Fesler, Hardening the Shield: A Credible Deterrent and Capable Defense for North America (Washington dc : Wilson Center, 2020), https://www. wilsoncenter.org/publication/hardening-shield-credible-deterrent-capabledefense-north-america. 28 In one of the first steps taken to give norad more time to react to potential incursions, Canada “aligned” its air defence identification zone to match Canada’s land mass rather than the reach of the nws farther south. Government of Canada, “Canadian Air Defence Identification Zone now aligned with Canada’s sovereign airspace,” Transport Canada: Canadian Air Defence Identification Zone (24 May 2018), https://www.canada.ca/ en/department-national-defence/news/2018/05/canadian-air-defenceidentification-. 29 Pathfinder is a US initiative that uses aI to help analysts see more of what norad radars were detecting that old algorithms were not detecting. 30 Rachel Cohen, “Pentagon’s Silicon Valley Hub Is Helping norad Monitor US Airspace,” Air Force Magazine, 23 October 2020, https:// www.airforcemag.com/pentagons-silicon-valley-hub-is-helping-noradmonitor-us-airspace.

17 The Terrorist Sleeper Threat in an Age of Anxiety Post-9/11 Shannon Nash

The term “sleeper agent” often evokes the image of a spy or terrorist living next door, laying low, blending in, and waiting to be called upon to carry out an operation. This notion of an enemy within is frightening, for it plays on society’s perceptions of security. While Russian espionage practices during the Cold War set the mould for the idea, there is today a fluid boundary around what constitutes a sleeper. This is especially salient because it involves a translation of the operational concept from a world of state-on-state action to a world centred on the possible use of sleepers by non-state actors for the purpose of advancing terrorist objectives. In the wake of the terrorist attacks of 11 September 2001, investigations revealed how the hijackers concealed their intentions and blended in with their host country for a period of time before executing their mission. The reality of Al Qaeda operational tactics, including those deployed in plots before and after 9/11, diverged from the notion of sleepers as deepcover agents to that of operatives more akin to “nappers.” Al Qaeda had an interest in associating with and utilizing operatives with sufficient security awareness to avoid detection in foreign countries for a shorter rather than a longer time frame.1 That organization valued attempted operations it was either directly or indirectly involved in during the 1990s, despite their lack of success, for they provided critical operational experience in entering and embedding.2 These people included Ahmed Ressam (discussed in David Haglund’s chapter), who planned to attack Los Angeles International Airport before his plot was foiled at the Canadian border in 1999. The memory of Ressam’s plot crystallized in the wake of 9/11, and the narrative

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that terrorists might launch their next attack from Canada gained traction. Through the vector of the sleeper threat, the United States and Canada viewed each other as both necessary to stop the threat and potentially vulnerable to the other.3 However, the reality that authorities discovered no true sleepers in North America after 9/11 was largely eclipsed by the socially and politically adopted perception that Al Qaeda used sleepers to attack and that more were in waiting.4 According to the 9/11 Commission Report, the 9/11 attacks revealed a failure of imagination; North America compensated for this with an excess of imagination after 9/11.5 A consequence of the exaggerated concern that Al Qaeda operatives were already here and patiently waiting was that it hindered an appreciation that the terrorist threat had shifted in the mid-2000s to lone actors and home-grown terrorists using low-sophistication tactics to commit high-impact violent attacks. This contributed to a misallocation of resources and less effective counterterrorism operations, including an overmilitarized approach (see Justin Massie’s chapter) with expansive objectives. After 9/11, Canada and the United States followed a jihadi-centric threat narrative, and this has almost exclusively defined the way North America has understood and labelled terrorism over the past twenty years. The perception that terrorists are “foreign” or “other” has persisted, and there has been a complacency in defining terrorists along racial and ethnical lines as not “us,” but “them.” This became even more complicated as home-grown, radicalized individuals or groups became enemies operating within inspired by jihadist causes and actions. The “Muslimization” of terrorism6 after 9/11 was a consequence of the search for an enemy within, and it has fomented Islamophobia. Hate and prejudice have become uncomfortably mainstream; according to a 2020 US Homeland Threat Assessment, “racially and ethnically motivated violent extremists – specifically white supremacist extremists (wse s) – will remain the most persistent and lethal threat in the Homeland.”7 Adapting to evolving terror threats outside of the jihadi-centric framework requires a reckoning with the unfair and misleading Muslimization of terrorism. In this chapter I first look at Ressam, then turn to North American fears of sleepers after 9/11 and the reality of the sleeper threat, including the shift to “homegrown terrorism.” I conclude with thoughts about the implications for North American perceptions of sleepers post-9/11.

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t h e “ r e s s a m effect” In the lead-up to 9/11, the idea that Al Qaeda was trying to use sleepers in its operations did not begin to develop until quite suddenly, albeit briefly, in December 1999, when two plots linked to Al Qaeda were disrupted. The first was a plot hatched in Jordan that targeted US interests abroad; this one had connections to individuals in the United States. The second was a plot by Ahmed Ressam, an Algerian living illegally in Montreal, who attempted to travel to the United States to carry out an attack on Los Angeles International Airport on or around 1 January 2000.8 On 14 December 1999, Ressam drew the attention of a US Customs agent as he attempted to cross the border by ferry from Victoria, Bc , to Port Angeles, near Seattle. Inspectors examining his rental car found more than 100 pounds of explosive materials and four timing devices.9 According to officials at csIs , Ressam had been under surveillance in Montreal from 1996 to 1998 as part of a broader investigation of a suspected terrorist ring, but they were unaware of his alias, and he was not detected until the “chance” intervention of US border security.10 A summer 2001 news report depicted Ressam’s arrest as triggering “an allergic reaction: more US and Canadian customs inspectors and airport surveillance cameras, broader binational sharing of criminal-intelligence data, and joint law-enforcement operations that were formerly unthinkable.”11 Ressam was linked to associates of Al Qaeda, and he had been trained in Afghanistan but he had conceived and prepared for the attack largely on his own, and he had not been acting under the direction of Osama bin Laden.12 After discovering that Ressam had been laying low and plotting to attack the United States using his terrorist connections, authorities began to associate terrorist sleeper agents with a perceived threat to the North American homeland. Ressam’s case came to epitomize the perceived threat posed by terrorists coming from Canada. According to Kenneth R. Timmerman, Ressam became “the face of Canada’s failure to confront terrorism.”13 The missteps in the Ressam case resulted in what Kerry Pither referred to as the “Ressam Effect” – the need to avoid making the same mistakes as with Ressam and to be seen as a reliable counterterrorism partner.14 Sam Mullins refers to Ressam’s arrest as “a watershed moment for Canadian counter-terrorism, stoking fears in

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the United States that its northern neighbour was lax on security and therefore, a potential threat. It simultaneously served as a wake-up call for Canadian authorities who had been monitoring Islamist militant networks.”15 However, both Canada and the United States, like other Western countries, failed to grasp the seriousness of the threat before 9/11.16 The domestic threat posed by operatives like Ressam was widely accepted as a more venomous version of the ordinary terror threat, whereas the complex threat posed by Al Qaeda, with its global connections between “over there” and “over here,” and with its sophisticated methods and operations, was unfamiliar and therefore seemed improbable.

n ort h a m e rI c a n f e a r s o f sleepers after 9/11 On the morning of 9/11, Osama bin Laden and Al Qaeda made it abundantly clear that they were a radically new threat, beyond any yet experienced. According to an fBI presentation on the 9/11 plot, the hijackers hid “in plain view” for months in the United States, some of them for years.17 They laid low in an attempt to blend into some of the norms of American society, and there was no evidence of any deep cover creation or long-term dormancy, especially in the case of the pilots who pursued flight training before they launched the 9/11 attacks.18 After the millennium plots, the boundary around the concept of “the sleeper” was stretched to encompass terrorist agents in place. In an environment of fear and paranoia about a second wave of attacks, Al Qaeda’s modus operandi became inextricably linked to a presence of operatives imbedded within. According to cIa director George Tenet, “it was inconceivable to us that Bin Ladin had not already positioned people to conduct second, and possibly third and fourth waves of attacks inside the United States.”19 According to a csIs report obtained by the Washington Post in 2002, Al Qaeda sleeper cells in Canada and the United States communicated with one another – a reality of the transnational nature of Al Qaeda and its capacity to transcend borders.20 While the focus of American military and cIa operations was abroad, according to US officials quoted in the report, “neutralizing the potential terrorist threat in Canada remains a top priority.”21 Political commentaries framed Canada as a “safe haven of choice” for Al Qaeda, portraying it as playing an unwitting role as a safe haven for terrorists aided

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by “a leaky US–Canada line.”22 Ressam’s arrest in 1999 was often framed as the first tip-off to the magnitude of this problem.23 One report opined that “for some Americans, the news that terrorists lurk north of the border must have seemed like a venal betrayal.”24 Media stories and comments by some US officials perpetuated the stubborn myth that some of the 9/11 hijackers had “sneaked over the 3,987mile border from Canada” because “Canada’s lax immigration and refugee laws make it easy for extremists to set up shop north of the border.”25 Known cases of extremists entering the United States through its land borders to the north (and the south) are exceedingly rare, but incessant inaccuracies about the threat have been politicized and popularized. In addition to making structural, policy, legal, and judicial reforms, increasing budgets for national security, redeploying police and border security resources, and strengthening its national defence commitments to the “war on terror,” Canada worked with its allies to dismantle global jihadi terror networks. The global context shaped the domestic situation in North America. International terrorist links persisted after 9/11, but an increase in counterterrorism capabilities reduced terrorists’ likely capacity to perpetrate large-scale, sophisticated attacks.26 Reg Whitaker aptly points out that “post-9/11, Canadian–American security relations are about the realities of terrorist threats, but they are also about myths. America’s northern border as a risk to its homeland security is part reality and part myth.”27 The reality of the threat is found in sober intelligence analysis and responsible security planning both in Canada and the United States.28 Furthermore, Whitaker says there is “very little evidence that Canadian security is any less vigilant than that of America,” adding that if there was any performance gap in the past, it reflected the fact that fewer resources were available to Canadians than to their American counterparts – a gap he indicates was closing even prior to 9/11.29 Canadian officials were persistently forced to confront anti-Canadian suspicions, and these shaped the political background to Americans’ perceptions of Canada.30 The US fixation on rooting out sleepers during this age of anxiety played into the “Ressam Effect.” The myth of Canada as a safe haven for terrorists blurred the reality of Canada’s role as “an effective partner in working with the United States to keep foreign terrorist suspects from entering North America.”31

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t he r e a l It y o f t h e s l e e p er threat post-9/11 an d t h e s hI f t t o “ h o m e-grown terror I s m” In December 2001, President Bush declared: “America and our friends will meet this threat with every method at our disposal. We will discover and destroy sleeper cells. We will track terrorist movements, trace their communications, disrupt their funding, and take their network apart, piece by piece.”32 The suggestion that no one really knew how many sleepers existed (and where they could infiltrate from), due to the difficulty in detecting them, exacerbated the hysteria around a perceived threat from operatives pre-positioned in North America. This became part of the collective consciousness and was reinforced as details emerged from the arrests of two suspected Al Qaeda sleepers supposedly sent to the United States to participate in attacks: Zacarias Moussaoui and Ali Saleh Kahlah al Marri.33 Fears of a second wave transcended the border and were heightened in December 2002, when csIs arrested refugee Mohamed Harkat, a pizza delivery driver in Ottawa with alleged close ties to a senior member of Al Qaeda. csIs posited that Harkat came to Canada as a “sleeper” for terrorist organizations, and it issued a Security Certificate built on secret evidence.34 Harkat maintained that he would face torture or death if he returned to Algeria, and Canadian authorities insisted that he continued to pose a threat.35 Harmonizing policies, the “Ressam Effect,” and the search for sleepers after 9/11 meant Canadian acceptance of American standards, and this gained a great deal of momentum as a serious security problem on the US–Canada border.36 As Macdonald and Ayres discuss in their chapter, the border had become a security threat. Politicians evoked the narrative that keeping the United States safe demanded perfection. Speaking to this, President Bush concluded: “To stop the enemy, we had to be right 100 per cent of the time. To harm us, they had to succeed only once.”37 During President Bush’s first term, a handful of high-profile “terrorism” cases were trumpeted by the government, only to collapse or be revealed as different than first presented as details emerged.38 However, the idea persisted that these suspected terrorists would have acted had it not been for the government’s quick work, and these cases were presented as exemplars of effective counterterror policies.39 The reality was that by 2005, US government efforts had not identified any “true ‘sleeper’ agents’ in the US.”40

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Al Qaeda may have had an interest in infiltrating sleepers after 9/11, but the environment in which they were operating changed drastically in the years following the attacks. North American Muslims had broadly and emphatically rejected violent extremism. In addition to that, the nature of counterterrorism measures to combat Al Qaeda, together with increased foreign and domestic investigative powers and intelligence capabilities (including domestic surveillance that sought to root out an enemy within),41 influenced how and where terrorists operated. The military operations in Afghanistan crippled Al Qaeda’s base and severely weakened its leadership so that the organization lost its singular role as the coordinator of international terror.42 This is not to say that Al Qaeda did not want to stage another attack on the scale of 9/11, but as Peter Bergen points out, “intent is not the same thing as capability.”43 Security sweeps and detentions in North America left Al Qaeda with the perception that it was difficult to operate there (more difficult than it actually was), and they found it easier to go after Western forces in Iraq.44 Richard Clarke, former National Coordinator for Security, Infrastructure Protection, and CounterTerrorism and Chairman of the Counter-Terrorism Security Group, explains that “they stopped going after the foreign enemy in the ‘far abroad.’ We came to them, so they went after us over there.”45 Indeed, the occupation of Iraq in 2003 has been credited with almost single-handedly rescuing the jihadi movement.46 Lawrence Wright writes that “bin Laden’s progeny have spread through the Middle East, Africa, and South Asia, controlling far more territory in the aggregate than at any time before 9/11.”47 The Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (IsIs ) rose out of the chaos of the US invasion of Iraq, and this “savage offspring” expanded far beyond what bin Laden had envisioned.48 IsIs was expelled from Al Qaeda in 2014, only to rival and then surpass its former partner, first in battle and then “as the world pre-eminent jihadist group in reach and recruitment.”49 Residents or nationals of Western countries were drawn to the conflict in Syria and Iraq; at the same time, coordinated attacks in cities like Paris and Brussels involving groups of returnees painfully underscored the deadly relevance of foreign fighters returning from the conflict zone.50 The threat posed by returnees, a new version of the sleeper threat, prolonged suspicions of enemies within, especially when paired with reports of IsIs sleepers being used in local battles abroad.51

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Jihadi terrorists have adapted, capitalizing on the swell of angry radicals in the West who have been inspired by the very counterterrorism actions aimed to root out their muses. An fBI report leaked in 2005 concluded that “instead of actual sleeper agents, lying in wait, al Qaeda may rely on disaffected Americans or other sympathizers, who may pick easier, softer targets such as shopping malls.”52 This was indeed a strategy that Al Qaeda, its affiliates, and other terrorist groups adopted after 9/11, when many countries became inhospitable to “traditional” terrorist operatives and networks became more fluid, independent, and unpredictable.53 The Madrid bombings on 11 March 2004 and the London bombings on 7 July 2005 demonstrated that the threat posed by Al Qaeda had changed since 9/11; it was now being sustained by extremists inspired and motivated by, rather than instructed or directed by Al Qaeda.54 In 2008, Marc Sageman wrote that a “bottom-up process of small local groups joining a violent global social movement, connected virtually via the Internet, results in a fluid, rapidly adaptive, and difficult to eradicate network of terrorists: the leaderless jihad.”55 According to one study, in the ten years after 9/11, the majority of the global violent extremist plots or attacks in the West came from groups or individuals with no significant connection to any foreign terrorist organization (64 per cent).56 Lone actor incidents represented almost half of all homegrown plots/attacks (48 per cent) and became even more typical by the end of the 2000s (70 per cent).57 The perpetrators of deadly attacks, like those in Orlando (2016), San Bernardino (2015), Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu (2014), and Ottawa (2014), had no operational connections to terrorist groups except through online propaganda. For this, Bruce Hoffman credits the terrorists’ exploitation of communications’ technologies, which “must surely factor into the astonishing longevity of many contemporary terrorist groups.”58 Self-radicalization is a myth, and David C. Hofmann argues that the “lone-actor” moniker is misleading, as most terrorists “do not radicalize, plan, and, and execute their plans in social, ideological, or operational isolation.”59 Ramon Spaaij and Mark Hamm place lone-actor terrorism “within the broader context of the individual’s personal history, social relations, and political or religious struggles.”60 They explain that “a degree of external social influence is often employed during the terrorist attack cycle, notably at the level of ideological formation (online and/or offline) communication with outsiders, including engagement with extremist

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materials or ‘terrorist pr .’”61 The heavy emphasis on monitoring Muslim communities after 9/11 was intertwined with a troublingly simplistic model of radicalization that undermined efforts to build relationships with Muslim communities and jeopardized broader counterterrorism agendas.62 After 9/11, North American security (defined as concerning Canada and the United States) reacted and evolved, but, as Wright points out, “fighting terror is an expensive and clumsy business.”63 According to Martha Crenshaw, “the tendency to oversimplify what is an extraordinarily complex phenomenon is still very much with us, especially with policymakers. People want to see terrorism through one prism. Or to see it in binary terms: It is either the work of evil fanatics or of misguided youth. The messy reality is hard to deal with.”64 While the terrorists adjusted their model to the shifts in the environment, North American officials were slow to adapt to the changing threat realities so as to move beyond viewing the threat through the sleeper prism. Al Qaeda’s use of independent actors dates back to the 1990s, and the organization had long valued agents in place. After 9/11, their operational concept was able to adapt to lone actors and home-grown terrorists; this effort was aided by the growth of connectivity, social media, and motivating factors internationally and domestically, particularly the implications of the “war on terror” with its expansive objectives. Propagated threat exaggerations, including depictions of an “Islamist fifth column in America,”65 and chasing the Zeitgeist shaped the way governments, the media, and the public interpreted terror threats in the years immediately following 9/11, even as evidence has revealed a remarkably small terrorist presence in North America. This hindered an appreciation of the shifting terror threat in the mid-2000s, with the result that it took longer to appreciate the home-grown threat because of the focus on finding Al Qaeda sleepers embedded in North America. For example, fBI director Robert Mueller observed in 2005 that “the lesson of things like London and Madrid is: You don’t wait until the cell becomes operational because if you wait until the fuse is lit, you’re waiting too long ... A sleeper cell can become operational in the blink of an eye.”66 A fixation on sleepers (especially in their Sunni-based forms, as noted by Charron, Fergusson, and St John in their chapter) led to a misallocation of resources and less effective counterterrorism after 9/11; the overmilitarized approach espoused by the invasion of Iraq served only to bring the “far enemy” nearer.

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The effectiveness of torture – so-called enhanced interrogation techniques – human rights violations, illegal detentions, and the war in Iraq became partisan talking points, fuelling the “war on terror” while simultaneously inspiring jihadi-inspired terrorists and boosting their recruitment.

I m p lI c a tIo n s o f n orth amer I can p e r c e p tI o n s of sleepers Concerns about sleepers had largely moved out of the mainstream by the mid-2000s with the shift to home-grown threats. Officials and the media, however, repeatedly connected attacks and thwarted plots in the years after 9/11 to “Islamic terrorism” or an “Al Qaeda plot,” and this continued to perpetuate the perception that the threat was cohesive and that terrorists were influencing not only terrorist operatives but also, now, North Americans within. Home-grown terrorists are not sleepers or even “nappers” associated directly with an organizational hierarchy. However, they likewise operate within, and reactions to this evolved threat continued to promote the idea that individuals radicalized at home or returning from fighting abroad were agents in place due to an interconnected world and thus capable of striking within North America. The fact that sleepers, by definition, are often told to wait years before being called upon to attack helped sustain the idea that terrorist sleepers could still be a threat long after 9/11. As information was revealed after 9/11 about Al Qaeda’s penchant for patience and secrecy, many believed that a terrorist organization well-organized and disciplined enough to successfully attack America in such a catastrophic way would certainly have agents lying in wait until security measures eased. In its efforts to root out suspected “sleepers” at home, law enforcement, particularly the fBI , began to use sting operations after 9/11.67 Officials insisted that sting operations were essential to uncovering and preventing terror attacks, but the Department of Justice “often leveled lesser charges against terrorist suspects to pre-emptively squelch potential attacks.”68 The arrests and convictions of suspects who had been set up in sting operations fed what Sageman calls “a vicious cycle: the convictions are taken as proof that this inflated threat to national security exists, which leads to the search of ever more suspects in a self-fulfilling prophecy, a process that soldiers call a ‘self-licking ice-cream.’”69 The vast majority of defendants “posed

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no real threat of violence because they had no capability or realistic hope of carrying out an attack.”70 The result was an inflation of the terrorist threat to the homeland, which fuelled popular hysteria.71 In the 2010s during the Syrian civil war, the perception persisted that terrorist sleepers could infiltrate North America through the refugee system. Although counterterrorism practitioners largely agreed that this was highly unlikely and a misrepresentation of the threat, the manner in which Canada’s Syrian refugee plan in 2015 singled out the acceptance of women, children, and families was partly rooted in the prolonged fear of sleepers. One source explained “that to deal with some ongoing concerns around security, unaccompanied men seeking asylum would not be part of the program.”72 According to the Washington Post in 2017, in the United States “the concern about dangerous young men has been with us for a while.” That article quoted several politicians voicing “the American concern that young Muslim men pose security threats.”73 According to one study, “media portrayals of immigrants and refugees that highlight potential threats to members of the host society cause the dehumanization of these groups,” and the association was that they might be terrorists.74 This dehumanization involved the denial of full humanness to others and was an extreme reaction to members of other groups, removing them from considerations of how other humans ought to be treated.75 The notion that terrorists are “foreign” or “other” has persisted throughout history, and this intersected with the search for sleepers, thus contributing to a “Muslimization” of terrorism after 9/11. Perceptions and portrayals of a threat from within either closely or loosely connected to jihadi terrorist organizations have persistently connected the threat to Muslims so that the terms “sleeper” and “terrorist” have become inextricably linked to Islam. This perception has permeated society, culture, and politics and has led to discriminatory immigration policies, suspicions of refugees, travel bans, biased legislation provisions, law enforcement misconduct, and defamation of Muslims and Arabs by public figures and in the media – all under the guise of effective counterterrorism. Rhetoric after 9/11 framed the fight against Al Qaeda as a “clash of civilizations” – the West versus Islam – with Muslims in North America as a potential terrorist fifth column in our midst. The threat posed by Al Qaeda, IsIs , and those inspired by their ideologies has framed the

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way North America has understood and labelled terrorists for twenty years. Islamophobia is on the rise in North America, and a deepseated racism that targeted Muslims long before 9/11 (dating back to the seventh century) has been emboldened by the idea that there are terrorists within.76 Polls indicate that 30 per cent of Canadians believe that Muslims follow Sharia law, not Canadian law, and half of American adults say that Islam is not part of mainstream society.77 US President Donald Trump’s anti-Islam and anti-Muslim sentiments and policies and his forthright and indirect support of the far right’s dangerous motives, rhetoric, and actions have brought prejudice into the mainstream.78 In 2015, Trump called for a “total and complete shutdown” of the entry of Muslims into the United States, and in 2017 he suspended the entry of refugees and temporarily suspended immigration from several predominately Muslim countries to keep out “radical Islamic terrorists” in what became known as the “Muslim ban.”79 The growth of the far right politically, especially during Trump’s tenure, has dangerously muddled the interplay between racism, extremism, and conspiracy and legitimate political discourse in America. The Muslimization of terrorism has paralleled a rise in hate directed against Muslims: police-reported hate crimes directed against Muslims rose 151 per cent between 2016 and 2017 in Canada.80 The same study found that more than one quarter of Canadians think it has become “more acceptable,” over the past five years, to be prejudiced against Muslims and Arabs.81 In the US, anti-Muslim hate crimes rose 67 per cent between 2014 and 2015, and another 19 per cent between 2015 and 2016, easily surpassing the modern peak reached in 2001.82 The current threat from Al Qaeda and IsIs is real, and it is deeply embedded in local causes and grievances around the world, but as the threat from other ideologically affiliated groups emerges, the framework we use to compartmentalize and understand terrorist threats needs to adapt. North America, meaning Canada and the United States, has followed a largely jihadi-centric threat narrative, but this is changing as terrorism motivated by xenophobia, misogyny, anti-authority, and other ideologically motivated grievances increases and as the threat landscape continues to shift. Jihadiinspired attacks have been used to drive a narrative of “radical Islamic terrorism,” and there is a growing concern of reciprocal radicalization and tit-for-tat violence that will further amplify discord

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and energize right-wing extremists.83 According to the 2020 Global Terrorism Index, “far-right terrorism has increased substantially” in the West, with a 709 per cent increase in deaths from far-rightmotivated terrorism in the past five years.84 Although this is not a new phenomenon, there has been an increase in the frequency and lethality of violence with international connections from what one UN report refers to as “a shifting, complex and overlapping milieu of individuals, groups and movements (online and offline) espousing different but related ideologies often linked by hatred and racism toward minorities, xenophobia, islamophobia or anti-Semitism.”85 In March 2021, fBI director Christopher Wray testified before the US Congress that in the United States, the top threat from domestic violent extremism “continues to be those we identify as racially or ethnically motivated violent extremists ... specifically those who advocate for the superiority of the white race.”86 Covid-19 has provided “the perfect storm for the spread of misinformation,” for the persistent uncertainty surrounding the pandemic has heightened anxiety and vulnerability, which has fuelled prejudice and hate against minority groups.87 According to Turan Kayaoglu, “Covid-19 has also laid bare pre-pandemic structures of Islamophobia,” which exacerbate the demonization of Muslims.88 Kayaoglu emphasizes that fighting the virus and fighting racism are not parallel struggles and that policies designed to tackle Covid-19 are inextricably linked to curbing the spread of hate.89 Perceptions about what terrorism is shape how the reality of the threat is understood, and some North Americans are beginning to reckon with their conceptualization of terrorism, but this will be a slow and difficult process given how deep the problem’s roots are in systemic racism. In February 2021, Canada added four ideologically motivated violent extremist groups, including the Proud Boys, to its Terrorist Entity Listings. These four groups joined two Neo-Nazi groups added in June 2020. In response to threats made against a mosque in downtown Toronto in October 2020, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau said that “Islamophobia and hate have no place in our country ... We must do more to counter hate and we will.”90 In stark contrast to his predecessor sympathetically telling the Capitol insurrectionists on 6 January 2021, “We love you, you’re very special,” US President Joseph Biden addressed “a rise in political extremism, white supremacy, domestic terrorism” in his inaugural

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address two weeks later, vowing that “we must confront and we will defeat [it].”91 Who we define as “terrorists” has symbolic, rhetorical, political, and cultural implications, and there is an inherent inequality in the application of the label that is sustained by systemic racism and exacerbated by the sleeper concept.

c o n c l u sI on In the age of anxiety since the 9/11 attacks, the sleeper threat and its legacy have shaped North American society, culture, and politics. The novelty of sleepers and the dread of consecutive waves of attacks contributed to hyperactive imaginations and perpetuated myths of Al Qaeda’s capacity to use sleepers by exploiting Canadian border vulnerabilities. This perception obscured reality, promoted an excess of imagination regarding threats, affected threat calculations (which were fixated on the sleeper threat), and helped politicize counterterrorism efforts. The idea of sleepers evokes fear, and fear has been politicized. This has helped oversimplify an extraordinarily complex phenomenon: the belief that “Islamic terrorists” could be living among us. Although the terrorist threat shifted around 2005 to home-grown plots and attacks, an exaggerated concern about sleepers further sustained the narrative that terrorists operating within are a threat to North America. Over the past twenty years this has contributed to an enduring scrutiny of Muslims and Islam, and all the while, with the spread of disinformation, Muslims have been blamed more broadly for societal ills since they have been dehumanized as threats. Hate and prejudice in the form of Islamophobia are deeply concerning threats. Both are inflamed by racist attitudes, by the ideology espoused among violent white supremacist and other ideologically motivated individuals and groups, and by the social polarization, distrust, and fear that have become uncomfortably mainstream. The misleading Muslimization of terrorism is inextricably linked to systemic racism, and its implications are powerful. This has shaped binational perceptions and security policies, increased defence spending and involvement overseas, made Muslims targets resulting in infringements to civil liberties, and sustained the sinister notion of an enemy within.

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no t e s 1 This work is informed by this author’s PhD dissertation: “Perception vs Reality: The Idea of Al Qaeda Sleepers as a Threat to American National Security” (Department of History at the University of Toronto, 2017). 2 “Terrorist Entry and Embedding Tactics, 1993 to 2001,” Staff Monograph on 9/11 Terrorist Travel, National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States, 21 August 2004, 46, https://govinfo.library.unt. edu/911/staff_statements/911_TerrTrav_Ch3.pdf. 3 This chapter defines North America as the United States–Canada bilateral relationship. 4 “Secret fBI Report Questions Al Qaeda Capabilities,” abc News, 9 March 2005, https://abcnews.go.com/WNT/Investigation/story?id= 566425&page=1. 5 The 9/11 Commission Report (New York: W.W. Norton, 2004), 339; Marc Sageman discusses an “excess of imagination” in Misunderstanding Terrorism, ed. Sageman (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2017), ebook loc: 302. 6 Jez Littlewood, Lorne L. Dawson, and Sara K. Thompson, Terrorism and Counter-Terrorism in Canada (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2020), 315. 7 “Homeland Threat Assessment,” US Department of Homeland Security, October 2020, https://www.dhs.gov/sites/default/files/ publications/2020_10_06_homeland-threat-assessment.pdf, 18. 8 Peter Bergen, Holy War Inc.: Inside the Secret World of Osama bin Laden (New York: Free Press, 2001), 140. According to Bergen, “concerns about an attack on the Space Needle led Seattle officials to cancel its millennium celebrations.” 9 The 9/11 Commission Report, 179; “Ahmed Ressam’s Millennium Plot,” pbs Frontline, October 2001, https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/ shows/trail/inside/cron.html. 10 “Ahmed Ressam’s Millennium Plot”; and Sam Mullins, “Global Jihad: The Canadian Experience,” Terrorism and Political Violence 25, no. 5 (2013): 757. 11 Stephen Handelman, “The Ressam Effect,” Time International, 23 July 2001, 22. 12 “Overview of the Enemy,” Staff Statement No. 15, National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States, Presented at the Twelfth Public Hearing on 16 June 2004, http://govinfo.library.unt.edu/911/staff_ statements/staff_statement_15.pdf, p.9.and 9/11 Commission Report, 177.

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13 Kenneth R. Timmerman, “Canadian border open to terrorists: Terrorists have exploited Canada’s lax immigration laws to plan and execute attacks against the United States. Is the Canadian government taking corrective action? (specIal report : US-Canada Relations),” Insight on the News 17, no. 47 (17 December 2001), 24, Web. 14 Kerry Pither, Dark Days: The Story of Four Canadians Tortured in the Name of Fighting Terror (Toronto: Penguin, 2008), 30–46. 15 Mullins, “Global Jihad,” 736. 16 Ibid. 17 “Outline of the 9/11 Plot,” Staff Statement No. 16, National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States. Presented at the Twelfth Public Hearing on 16 June 2004, 3, http://govinfo.library.unt.edu/911/ staff_statements/staff_statement_16.pdf; undated fBI Presentation on the 9/11 Hijackers, Records of the The National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States, rg 148: team 1 files, box 32, retrieved 11 September 2012. 18 Peppered throughout are reports (many gathered after the attacks) of strange behaviour that made the men stand out; see “Annotated Timeline of the 9/11 Hijackers for Researchers, various, 5/13/02, compiled from published sources,” Records of The National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States, rg 148, team 1A, box 58, retrieved 13 September 2012. 19 George Tenet, At the Center of the Storm: My Years at the cia (New York: HarperCollins, 2007), 239. 20 Dana Priest and DeNeen L. Brown, “’Sleeper Cell’ Contacts Are Revealed: Canada,” Washington Post, 25 December 2002, https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/politics/2002/12/25/sleeper-cell-contacts-are-revealedcanada/ad831ddc-8d21-4b65-867c-7d5cd3a860da. 21 Ibid. 22 Eldridge et al., “9/11 and Terrorist Travel,” Staff Report of the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States, 25 August 2004, https://govinfo.library.unt.edu/911/staff_statements/911_TerrTrav_ Monograph.pdf, 100; Timmerman, “Canadian border open to terrorists”; Priest and Brown, “’Sleeper Cell’ Contacts”; Mark Clayton and Gail Russell Chaddock, “Terrorists aided by a leaky US–Canada line,” Christian Science Monitor, 19 September 2001, https://www.csmonitor. com/2001/0919/p3s1-woam.html. 23 Priest and Brown, “’Sleeper Cell’ Contacts.” 24 Mary-Liz Shaw of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, qtd by John Ibbitson, “US points the finger due north,” https://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/ world/us-points-the-finger-due-north/article4153934.

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25 Clayton and Chaddock, “Terrorists aided by a leaky US–Canada line.” There is no evidence to support the claim that hijackers entered the United States through Canada, and the 9/11 Commission Report details the arrival of the terrorists from outside of North America into major US airports with documents issued to them by the US government. See also Lee-Anne Goodman, “9/11 terrorists came from Canada, McCain insists,” Toronto Star, 25 April 2009, https://www.thestar.com/news/world/2009/ 04/24/911_terrorists_came_from_canada_mccain_insists.html. 26 Mullins, “’Global Jihad,’” 760. 27 Reg Whitaker, “Ontario-Vermont Border’: Myths and Realities in Post9/11 Canadian–American Security Relations,” International Journal 60, no. 1 (Winter 2004–5): 53–70 at 54. 28 Whitaker, “Ontario–Vermont Border,” 54. 29 Reg Whitaker, “Keeping Up with the Neighbours – Canadian Responses to 9/11 in Historical and Comparative Context,” Osgoode Hall Law Journal 41, nos. 2–3 (2003): 256. 30 Whitaker, “Keeping Up with the Neighbours,” 256. 31 “Northern Border Threat Analysis Report: Public Summary July 2017,” https://www.dhs.gov/sites/default/files/publications/17_0731_Public_ Summary_NBSRA_0.pdf, 1. 32 George W. Bush, “Address at the Citadel,” Selected Speeches of President George W. Bush, 2001–2008, 11 December 2001, 93, https:// georgewbush-whitehouse.archives.gov/infocus/bushrecord/documents/ Selected_Speeches_George_W_Bush.pdf. 33 In reference to an assessment made on the threat environment in 2016 by Dr John Horgan. See Richard Pérez-Peña, Jack Healy, and Jennifer Medina, “Shooting scares show a nation quick to fear the worst,” New York Times, 29 August 2016, https://www.nytimes.com/2016/08/30/us/ shooting-scares-show-a-nation-quick-to-fear-the-worst.html?_r=0. 34 Canada (Citizenship and Immigration) v. Harkat, 2014, scc 37, [2014] 2 S.C.R. 33, https://decisions.scc-csc.ca/scc-csc/scc-csc/en/item/13643/index. do?site_preference=normal&pedisable=false&alternatelocale=en. According to David Harris, although they go by different names, “instruments in the nature of security certificates are a commonplace of national security throughout the world,” and they “frequently offer more severe conditions on those subject to them than anything we see in Canada.” See Harris, discussion in “Security Certificates,” Globe and Mail, 15 June 2006, https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/security-certificates/ article1100955.

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35 Leslie MacKinnon, “Mohamed Harkat security certificate upheld by top court,” cbc News, 14 May 2014, https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/ mohamed-harkat-security-certificate-upheld-by-top-court-1.2642459; Jim Bronskill, “Terror suspect Mohamed Harkat poses low risk of violence, psychiatrist tells hearing,” Toronto Star, 17 November 2017, https:// www.thestar.com/news/canada/2017/11/17/terror-suspect-mohamedharkat-poses-low-risk-of-violence-psychiatrist-tells-hearing.html. 36 Whitaker, “Ontario–Vermont Border,” 55. 37 George W. Bush, Decision Points (New York: Crown, 2010) 155. 38 Peter Bergen, The Longest War: The Enduring Conflict between America and Al-Qaeda (New York: Free Press, 2011), 125. This included the cases of the “Detroit Sleeper Cell” and the “Lackawanna Six.” 39 Dina Temple-Raston, The Jihad Next Door: The Lackawana Six and Rough Justice in the Age of Terror (New York: PublicAffairs, 2007) 184; Matthew Purdy and Lowell Bergman, “Where the Trail Led: Between Evidence and Suspicion; Unclear Danger: Inside the Lackawanna Terror Case,” New York Times, 12 October 2003, http://www.nytimes. com/2003/10/12/nyregion/12LACK.html?pagewanted=all. 40 “Secret fBI Report Questions Al Qaeda Capabilities,” https://abcnews. go.com/WNT/Investigation/story?id=566425&page=1. 41 One such domestic intelligence program that emphasized suspicion of the enemy within was prIsm , the National Security Agency (nsa ) surveillance program that began in 2007 and was revealed by leaked documents from Edward Snowden in 2013. See Barton Gellman and Laura Poitras, “US, British intelligence mining data from nine US Internet companies in broad secret program,” Washington Post, 7 June 2013, https://www. washingtonpost.com/investigations/us-intelligence-mining-data-from-nineus-internet-companies-in-broad-secret-program/2013/06/06/3a0c0da8cebf-11e2-8845-d970ccb04497_story.html; “csec ’s collection of metadata shows ability to ‘track everyone,’” cbc News, 4 February 2014, https://www.cbc.ca/news/technology/csec-s-collection-of-metadata-showsability-to-track-everyone-1.2522916. 42 Lawrence Wright, The Terror Years: From Al-Qaeda to the Islamic State (New York: A.A. Knopf, 2016), 155. 43 Bergen, The Longest War, 242. 44 Fred Kaplan, “Why suicide bombers haven’t struck American subways,” Slate, 30 March 2010, http://www.slate.com/articles/news_and_politics/ war_stories/2010/03/why_suicide_bombers_havent_struck_american_ subways.html.

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Ibid. Wright, The Terror Years, 190. Ibid., 342. Ibid. Brian Michael Jenkins, Bruce Hoffman, and Martha Crenshaw, “How Much Really Changed about Terrorism on 9/11?” The Atlantic, 11 September 2016, https://www.theatlantic.com/international/ archive/2016/09/jenkins-hoffman-crenshaw-september-11-alqaeda/499334; Ian Fisher, “In rise of IsIs , no single missed key but many strands of blame,” New York Times, 18 November 2015, https://www. nytimes.com/2015/11/19/world/middleeast/in-rise-of-isis-no-single-missedkey-but-many-strands-of-blame.html?_r=0. Bérénice Boutin et al., “The Foreign Fighters Phenomenon in the European Union: Profiles, Threats & Policies,” International Centre for Counter-Terrorism – The Hague, April 2016, https://www.icct.nl/wpcontent/uploads/2016/03/ICCT-Report_Foreign-Fighters-Phenomenon-inthe-eu _1-April-2016_including-AnnexesLinks.pdf, 9. Wright, The Terror Years, 313. “Secret fBI Report Questions,” http://abcnews.go.com/WNT/ Investigation/story?id=566425&page=1. Marc Sageman, Leaderless Jihad: Terror Networks in the Twenty-First Century (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), vii. Daniel Benjamin and Steven Simon, The Next Attack: The Failure of the War on Terror and a Strategy for Getting It Right (New York: Times Books, 2006), 6. Sageman, Leaderless Jihad, viii. Sageman, Misunderstanding Terrorism, loc: 865. Ibid. Jenkins, Hoffman, and Crenshaw, “How Much Really Changed.” David C. Hofmann, “How ‘Alone’ are Lone-Actors? Exploring the Ideological, Signaling, and Support Networks of Lone-Actor Terrorists,” Studies in Conflict and Terrorism 43, no. 7 (2020): 2020, 673. Ramon Spaaij and Mark Hamm, “Key Issues and Research Agendas in Lone-Wolf Terrorism,” Studies in Conflict and Terrorism 38 (2015): 170. Ibid. Faiza Patel, “Rethinking Radicalization,” Brennan Center for Justice at New York University School of Law, 2011, https://www.brennancenter. org/sites/default/files/2019-08/Report_RethinkingRadicalization.pdf, 29. Wright, The Terror Years, 341. Jenkins, Hoffman, and Crenshaw, “How Much Really Changed.”

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65 J.R. Schindler, “Defeating the Sixth Column: Intelligence and Strategy in the War on Islamist Terrorism,” Orbis 49, no. 4 (September 2005): 700. 66 Richard A. Clarke, “Finding the Sleeper Cells,” New York Times, 14 August 2005, http://www.nytimes.com/2005/08/14/magazine/finding-thesleeper-cells.html. 67 Historically, the tactic of agents going undercover and befriending suspects to facilitate their activities has been employed against mafia bosses, white-collar criminals, and corrupt public servants; see Jerome P. Bjelopera, “The Federal Bureau of Investigation and Terrorism Investigations,” Congressional Research Service, 24 April 2013, https:// fas.org/sgp/crs/terror/R41780.pdf, 19. 68 Bjelopera, “The Federal Bureau of Investigation,” 20. 69 Sageman, Misunderstanding Terrorism, loc: 309. 70 Ibid., loc: 653. 71 Ibid., loc: 301. 72 Rosemary Barton, “Canada’s Syrian refugee plan limited to women, children and families,” cbc News, 22 November 2015, https://www.cbc.ca/ news/politics/canada-refugee-plan-women-children-families-1.3330185. 73 Maggie Sullivan and Timothy S. Rich, “Many refugees are women and children. That changes whether Americans want to admit them,” Washington Post, 29 November 2017, https://www.washingtonpost.com/ news/monkey-cage/wp/2017/11/29/americans-like-refugees-better-whentheyre-women-and-children-especially-republicans. 74 Victoria M. Esses, Stelian Medianu, and Andrea S. Lawson, “Uncertainty, Threat, and the Role of the Media in Promoting the Dehumanization of Immigrants and Refugees,” Journal of Social Issues 69, no. 3 (2013): 531, 529. 75 Ibid., 522. 76 Rachid Acim, “Islamophobia, Racism, and the Vilification of the Muslim Diaspora,” Islamophobia Studies Journal 5, no. 1 (Fall 2019): 27, 40. 77 Sean Simpson, “Racism,” ipsos and Global News, April 2019, https:// www.ipsos.com/sites/default/files/ct/news/documents/2019-05/ipsos_ global_news_-_racism_-_2019.pdf; “How the US general public views Muslims and Islam,” Pew Research Center, 26 July 2017, https://www. pewforum.org/2017/07/26/how-the-u-s-general-public-views-muslimsand-islam. 78 Brian Klaas, “A Short history of President Trump’s anti-Muslim bigotry,” Washington Post, 15 March 2019, https://www.washingtonpost.com/ opinions/2019/03/15/short-history-president-trumps-anti-muslim-bigotry; Christopher Ingraham, “Donald Trump is bringing anti-Muslim prejudice

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into the mainstream,” Washington Post, 1 August 2016, https://www. washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2016/08/01/donald-trump-is-bringinganti-muslim-prejudice-into-the-mainstream. Jenna Johnson, “Trump calls for a ‘total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States,’” Washington Post, 7 December 2015, https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/post-politics/wp/2015/ 12/07/donald-trump-calls-for-total-and-complete-shutdown-of-muslimsentering-the-united-states; Michael D. Shear and Helene Cooper, “Trump bars refugees and citizens of 7 Muslim countries,” New York Times, 27 January 2017, https://www.nytimes.com/2017/01/27/us/politics/trumpsyrian-refugees.html. Memona Hussain, “Commentary: Hate crimes are rising and Muslims are increasingly targets,” Global News, 10 June 2019, https://globalnews.ca/ news/5360274/muslim-hate-crime-canada. Hussain, “Commentary.” Katayoun Kishi, “Assaults against Muslims in US surpass 2001 level,” Pew Research Center, 15 November 2017, https://www.pewresearch.org/ fact-tank/2017/11/15/assaults-against-muslims-in-u-s-surpass-2001-level. “IntelBrief: Terrorist Attacks in Vienna Rock Austrian Capital,” Soufan Group, 3 November 2020, https://thesoufancenter.org/ intelbrief-terrorist-attacks-in-vienna-rock-austrian-capital. “Global Terrorism Index 2020: Measuring the Impact of Terrorism,” Institute for Economics and Peace (November 2020): 3, 5, https://www. visionofhumanity.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/11/GTI-2020-web-1.pdf. “Member States Concerned by the Growing and Increasingly Transnational Threat of Extreme Right-Wing Terrorism,” United Nations Security Council Counter-Terrorism Committee Executive Directorate, April 2020, 2, https://www.un.org/sc/ctc/wp-content/uploads/2020/04/ CTED_Trends_Alert_Extreme_Right-Wing_Terrorism.pdf. Christopher Wray, “Oversight of the Federal Bureau of Investigation: The January 6 Insurrection, Domestic Terrorism, and Other Threats,” Statement Before the Senate Judiciary Committee, 2 March 2021, https:// www.fbi.gov/news/testimony/oversight-of-the-federal-bureau-of-investigationthe-january-6-insurrection-domestic-terrorism-and-other-threats. Kate Starbird, “How to Cope with an Infodemic,” Brookings Institution, 27 April 2020, https://www.brookings.edu/techstream/how-to-cope-withan-infodemic. Turan Kayaoglu, “Pandemic Politics: A Public Health Crisis and a Hate Crisis: covId -19 and Islamophobia,” Brookings Institution, 17 June

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2020, https://www.brookings.edu/opinions/pandemic-politics-a-publichealth-crisis-and-a-hate-crisis-covid-19-and-islamophobia. 89 Kayaoglu, “Pandemic Politics.” 90 Justin Trudeau, 12 October 2020, https://twitter.com/JustinTrudeau/ status/1315796464740831237. 91 Inaugural Address by President Joseph R. Biden, Jr, The White House Briefing Room: Speeches and Remarks, 20 January 2021, https://www. whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/speeches-remarks/2021/01/20/inauguraladdress-by-president-joseph-r-biden-jr.

18 Canada’s Longest War as a Result of 9/11: The Price of Alliance Credibility Justin Massie

An enduring consequence of the 9/11 terrorist attacks in New York and Washington was that Canada entered the longest war in its history, in Afghanistan. More than 40,000 members of the Canadian Forces (renamed to caf in 2013) served from October 2001 to March 2014. By the time it ended, 158 caf members had been killed as well as seven Canadian civilians. To some extent, Canada’s war against the Al Qaeda terrorist network and the Taliban regime, which had sheltered that network in Afghanistan, was a direct reprisal for the twenty-four Canadians who died on 9/11. Minister of National Defence Gordon O’Connor (Conservative Party, 2006–8) made one of the clearest statements to that effect: “On Sept. 11, 2001, terrorists attacked North America and Canadians were killed. Let me be clear: when terrorists attack Canadians, Canada will defend itself. That’s why we’re in Afghanistan.”1 Undoubtedly, though, Canada would have taken part in the US-led regime change and counterinsurgency in Afghanistan even had no Canadians perished on 9/11. The logic and dynamics of Canada’s longest war rested primarily on alliance considerations, constrained by domestic politics. Put simply, Canada went to war to buttress its credibility with the United States and strengthen its relationship with the wider nato alliance.2 Later, as domestic costs accrued and political elites began to doubt the benefits of the war, Canada withdrew from combat operations, then from Afghanistan altogether.3 This chapter explores Canada’s contribution to the gwot in the aftermath of 9/11. It reviews Canada’s decisions to take part in the various phases of the war, from the invasion of Afghanistan to

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the counterterrorist and counterinsurgency operations that ensued, first as part of US-led Operation Enduring Freedom (oef ), later under the nato -led International Security Assistance Force (Isaf ). I also examine Canada’s decision to withdraw from Kandahar (in the southeast of the country), then Kabul (the capital), before nato ended its mission. I conclude with some thoughts on Canada’s contribution to the war.

e a r l y In , e a rly out In the aftermath of the terrorist attacks on 9/11, Canada felt a sense of solidarity with Americans as well as a need to fight terrorism at home and abroad. The Chrétien government assured Washington of Canada’s full cooperation. “This was an act of premeditated murder on a massive scale with no possible justification or explanation – an attack not just on our closest friend and partner, the United States, but against the values and way of life of all free and civilized people around the world,” stated the prime minister at the time.4 Indeed, Canada initially went to war in Afghanistan as a direct result of 9/11. One of the main justifications for deploying troops overseas was the need to protect Canadians against the international terrorist threat posed by Al Qaeda.5 In the words of then Minister of National Defence, Bill Graham: “We must be prepared to meet threats to our security as far from our country and our continent as possible. This is why Canadian soldiers were deployed to Kandahar in 2001, alongside the 101st Airborne, to confront the remnants of the Taliban regime and members of Al Qaeda.”6 The domestic terrorist threat faced by Canada from Islamic jihadists was not part of the national security rationale for going to war. At the time, only a minority of Canadians believed that their country was a target for terrorist groups.7 Two other rationales were more important: the 9/11 attacks had led the United States to tighten its border with Canada, which was costing Canada billions of dollars’ worth of trade; and Canada wanted to dispel any doubts in Washington that it was not resolutely committed to fighting terrorism (see Shannon Nash’s chapter).8 It was believed that Canada needed to demonstrate its reliability to its southern neighbour. Canada’s military contribution was not necessary to neutralize the threat posed by Al Qaeda and the Taliban regime that sheltered it; it was, however, vital for Canada to prove that it was a credible

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and resolute ally of the Americans.9 Even so, the Chrétien government was careful not to get dragged into a protracted conflict. Ottawa was hoping for a short, “low-risk, low-fatality” military operation in Afghanistan.10 The objective was to meet US demands at minimal cost to Canada. As then Minister of Foreign Affairs John Manley recalls: “The priority in December 2001 was how do we make sure we are not seen as the source of weakness and threat to the Americans.”11 Fortunately for Ottawa, the Bush administration was not seeking much assistance from allies and partners in the early combat phases of the war.12 In response, Canada deployed dozens of special operations forces as well as two frigates under oef in late 2001. This commitment, however, was deemed too small “to show the Americans that Canada was with them in their moment of crisis.”13 Only the provision of ground combat troops would have the required “political cachet” to impress Washington.14 The Chrétien government wanted a role commensurate with Canada’s stature as a strong military ally, and that would require deploying ground combat troops. It offered a battalion to the European-led Isaf , which was conducting a non-combat stabilization and humanitarian mission separate from oef in the safer area of Kabul. The Europeans declined Canada’s offer, for they had requested field engineers and communicators, not combat forces.15 So instead, Ottawa turned to the only remaining option, oef , which was hunting Al Qaeda under US command. It offered a battle group for six months, as well as transport aircraft and a three-ship task group. Heavily committed at the time to the nato -led Stabilization Force in Bosnia and Herzegovina (sfor ), Canada withdrew its battle group from Afghanistan in the summer of 2002 because it could not sustain both operations at the same time. It was, as famously described by Janice Gross Stein and Eugene Lang as an “early in, early out” strategy consistent with Canada’s desire for prestige with limited liability.16

com p e n s a t In g f o r s a yIng “no” to Iraq A year later, in 2002, when the Canadian army sought a pause from Afghanistan due to the high operational tempo of deployments, Ottawa decided to partly withdraw its contingent from sfor . This freed up troops for a new expeditionary deployment. The choice was between going to Iraq or back to Afghanistan. In the fall of 2002, at a time when Canada’s position on the war in Iraq was still

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uncertain, Canadian officials offered a battle group of 600 to 800 troops to US Central Command to deploy to Iraq.17 But when it became clear, in early 2003, that a majority of UN Security Council members (including permanent members) would not authorize the use of force against Iraq, Prime Minister Chrétien sought a way out of providing military support to a unilateral war and turned his attention to how Canada could support action in Afghanistan. Two months earlier, on the instructions of the prime minister, Minister of National Defence John McCallum pre-empted US Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld’s request for extensive military support in Afghanistan by conveying Canada’s willingness to take over the command of Isaf in Kabul. This took Rumsfeld by surprise but he welcomed the idea. In fact, the Canadian Cabinet had only approved the Afghanistan mission days prior to receiving confirmation from the Chief of the Defence Staff, General Rick Hillier, that it was militarily feasible.18 Ottawa offered to deploy up to 2,000 ground troops to Kabul which would help free up US military resources for the impending war in Iraq. As McCallum warned Rumsfeld, once it committed substantial Canadian forces to Kabul, Canada would have almost nothing left for a contribution to Iraq.19 (In fact, Canada offered 250 military personnel, three Hercules transport planes, and some police trainers to the post-invasion phase of the Iraq war). It is significant that Canada’s deployment of 2,000 troops to Afghanistan amounted to compensation for not taking part in the invasion of Iraq. McCallum offered to provide a battle group, brigade headquarters, and special forces to lead Isaf in Kabul, and he recommended to Rumsfeld that Isaf be brought under nato command. It was expected that taking command of Isaf and contributing to its “nato ization” would enhance Canada’s international profile while alleviating fears that it might become entangled in Afghanistan indefinitely. A nato command would provide indispensable security, command and control, intelligence, and logistics support, as well as force generation processes favoured by Canada.20 By 2004, Canada was supporting the third-largest troop contingent in Afghanistan, after the United States and Germany. It had almost as many troops deployed as did the British, French, and Italians combined. Even with the Kabul mission, the Canadian government sensed that its credibility as a US ally was in peril due to its refusal to take part in the US-led invasion of Iraq. Indeed, Washington was carrying

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a grudge against Canada over its unexpected decision. It not only made this known to Canadian officials but also restricted Canada’s access to the Five Eyes intelligence community.21 Rumsfeld told David Wilkins, Canada’s newly appointed ambassador to the United States, that “we no longer consider Canada a reliable ally.”22 Besides saying no to Iraq, Canada had refused to join the US Ballistic Missile Defense program and declined nato ’s request that it take part in stage II of Isaf ’s expansion westward. Canadian officials sensed the need to offset a worsening canus relationship by making substantial and visible military contributions to the war in Afghanistan in a high-profile location and with a corresponding mission. As Stein and Lang write, “Canada, and in particular the Canadian Forces, needed to do something significant for Washington – something that the Pentagon really valued.”23 Isaf’s stage III expansion southward to Kandahar provided an opportunity.24 Prime Minister Paul Martin felt he had an “obligation” to help pave the way for Isaf ’s southern expansion. Indeed, he chose not to deploy mere “face-saving,” token forces to Kandahar; instead, he established a Provincial Reconstruction Team (prt ) and deployed a battle group, as well as a brigade headquarters that allowed Canada to take command of the Isaf South region.25 Martin approved the Kandahar mission two days before his visit with President George W. Bush in March 2005. Such commitment was deemed to “have political weight and high profile” in Washington, given that Kandahar was a high-risk and high-visibility deployment.26 Canada’s return to a combat mission in Kandahar did more than improve its relations with the United States; it “expunged Canada’s status as a free rider.”27

m a kI n g a f g h a nI s t a n harper’s war The Liberals lost the general election of January 2006 to the Conservatives, for reasons unrelated to Afghanistan. Domestic support for the mission began to erode only after Canadian soldiers found themselves in persistent combat in Kandahar in the spring and summer of 2006. Nevertheless, the new Conservative minority government fully embraced the combat mission it had inherited. Unlike his predecessors, Prime Minister Stephen Harper was genuinely enthusiastic about the war in Afghanistan, for it fit with his party’s ideological preferences and with his view of Canada as a

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“warrior nation.”28 So it was not surprising that upon taking office, he placed Canada’s contribution to the Afghan war at the core of his foreign policy. Underscoring his personal commitment to the war, his first trip abroad as prime minister was a visit to Canadian troops in Kandahar, where he expressed Canada’s moral duty in Afghanistan. He famously declared that “there may be some who want to cut and run. But cutting and running is not your way. It’s not my way. And it’s not the Canadian way.”29 Two months later, the Harper government extended Canada’s combat mission in Kandahar to 2009.30 That extension was Harper’s first major war decision, and it underscored the Conservatives’ desire to make the war their own. Even so, the prime minister put his desire to extend the mission to a vote in Parliament, though he had no constitutional obligation to do so. While this decision was consistent with his party’s long-standing promise to democratize Canadian military deployments, it also had three noteworthy political benefits for the Conservatives: it diffused the political responsibility for a contentious decision to Parliament; it exposed divisions within the Liberal opposition party amid a leadership campaign; and it pleased the Conservative core electorate and soft supporters while avoiding a potentially divisive election issue for the Conservative minority government.31 To be sure, there was little substantive domestic opposition to Harper’s decision to extend the war in Afghanistan. During the debate that preceded the vote, all Canadian political parties except the ndp expressed their support for Canada’s combat mission in Afghanistan. Yet the motion to extend that mission passed by only a slim majority: 149 mp s in favour, 145 against. One third of the Liberal mp s supported the minority Conservative government’s motion, with the rest joining the New Democratic Party (ndp) and the Bloc Québécois (Bq ) in opposition to it. That opposition, however, was grounded in procedural concerns rather than principles. The opposition parties criticized the mere thirty-six-hour notice of the vote and the meagre six-hour debate on the issue. Stéphane Dion, who was running for the Liberal Party leadership, argued that the Harper Conservatives should have allowed a respectable amount of time to debate the issue and suggested that the suddenness of the vote indicated that the Harper government “ha[d] already decided and is determined to prolong the mission however the House votes – and so the vote means nothing.”32 Indeed, Harper had made the decision to extend the mission to

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2009 with his closest aides and the Chief of the Defence Staff General Hillier days prior to the parliamentary vote. Moreover, Harper stated that in the event of a vote against the extension, he would nevertheless proceed with at least a one-year extension.33 This signalled that he did not intend to give the House a veto over his exercise of the executive’s constitutional prerogative to deploy the military. At the time, most Canadians opposed a two-year extension of the mission, with only 41 per cent in favour. The strongest opposition came from Bq voters (72%),34 followed by ndp (69%) and Liberals (54%). However, Conservative voters expressed considerable support (61%) for the mission extension, distantly followed by Liberal voters (41%).35 Clearly, extending the mission would cost the Harper Conservatives few votes for it was popular among the Conservative base and among some Liberals as well.

d e f u sIn g a p o lI tI cal B om B: e xt e n dI n g t h e c o mB a t m Is sI on to 2011 Harper’s second major decision, to further extend Canada’s mission to 2011, came amid a more constrained domestic political setting. Public support for the mission was souring, partly as a result of the mounting casualties suffered in Kandahar,36 and partly, and more importantly, as a result of divergent public perceptions regarding the appropriate role of the caf abroad. Those who believed that Canada’s international military role should be one of peacekeeping consolidated their opposition to the combat mission, while support splintered among those who saw Canada’s military role as peace enforcement and defending people who were being attacked by terrorists.37 In other words, support for the mission was eroding among soft Conservatives. This mattered politically, since observers expected an election in the spring of 2007, with Afghanistan as a potential electoral liability for the Harper government. Furthermore, the Harper Conservatives were faced with increasing political hostility in the House of Commons. At one time, Stéphane Dion had called for a unilateral pull-out from Kandahar, but after being elected as Liberal party leader, he softened his stance. He tabled a motion in the House of Commons calling for withdrawal in 2009, at the end of the mission’s mandate.38 The motion was defeated 150 to 134, with the ndp voting with the Conservatives to prevent an

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election.39 The Harper government responded by attempting again to defuse the potential electoral backlash against the war, by diffusing political responsibility. While Dion favoured a non-combat training role beyond 2009,40 Harper emphasized his preference for a bipartisan accord but also the need to “continue with what we are working on now, which is an increased focus on training of Afghan security forces so they can take care of their country’s own security problems.”41 Harper later clarified that his minority government believed that the training of the Afghan army and police would be completed by 2011. On that basis, he sought to secure parliamentary support for a further two-year extension of Canada’s war.42 With this extension, Canada would abide by nato ’s operational plan based on UN-sponsored benchmarks. To foster conditions for a bipartisan agreement on these terms, Harper commissioned a panel, headed by former Liberal cabinet minister John Manley, to propose recommendations regarding the future of Canada’s military involvement in Afghanistan. This was clearly an attempt to secure the support of the Liberal Party in order to diffuse the political responsibility for a possible extension of the contentious mission.43 Liberal support for an additional two-year extension would ensure that Afghanistan did not become an electoral wedge issue. After Manley’s panel recommended that Canada maintain its combat mission in Kandahar beyond February 2009, Dion quickly reframed his party’s stance. He argued that Manley’s report supported the Liberal Party’s position on the need to move away from combat operations toward more extensive training of the Afghan National Security Forces, although the report in fact cautioned against such a false dichotomy.44 Dion accepted the government’s intentions – announced in the Speech from the Throne – which were to extend Canada’s commitments in Kandahar, including its combat commitments, while refocusing on training the Afghan army and police with the help of new aerial support and an additional 1,000 nato combat troops. Dion’s decision to support the Conservative government’s extension was clearly the result of the political pressure that Manley’s report had placed on the new Liberal leader. The Liberal Party was still divided over the mission. According to deputy Liberal leader Michael Ignatieff, Canadians did not want an election on the war.45 So the Liberals put aside their reservations and agreed to a deal with the Conservatives to extend the Canadian mission for two years.

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p u l lIn g o u t o f the war Prime Minister Harper faced an even more constrained domestic environment after his party was re-elected in 2008 with another minority. Growing public dissent toward the war in Afghanistan had now reached the Conservatives’ core electorate.46 The Harper Conservatives made little attempt to generate public support for a continued combat presence in Afghanistan. In fact, it all but gave up on mobilizing public support for the mission, even among its partisan base.47 The issue thus disappeared from the political agenda. Harper provided three reasons for ending Canada’s combat mission in Kandahar: souring public opinion, limited military capabilities, and accomplishment of duty.48 “I don’t think the Canadian public will want to continue,” he explained, regarding the first reason.49 He was not going to push for a third extension of the Kandahar mission in the face of widespread public disapproval. The second reason pertained to Canada’s limited military capabilities. In April 2008, strategic assessments from the caf ’s three branches, leaked to the media, painted a disturbing picture of the Canadian military. “The Army,” the report bleakly stated, “is now stretched almost to the breaking point.”50 Chief of the Land Forces General Andrew Leslie was calling for an operational pause once Canada withdrew its battle group from Kandahar. This would allow for a post-2011 training and mentoring mission to be decided no later than the fall of 2010.51 Harper’s third reason for withdrawing from Kandahar had to do with his own disenchantment with the war. “We’re not going to win this war just by staying,” he told a US television network. “Quite frankly, we are not going to ever defeat the insurgency.”52 To explain Harper’s willingness to withdraw from the ongoing nato mission, his close advisers explained that he had become “disillusioned with the allies, especially some of the larger European powers that wanted ‘a big say, but weren’t willing to step up.’ He felt betrayed by their refusal to come south at a time when Canada had ‘trusted them to a certain extent’ to be there.”53 Harper lamented nato ’s “inadequate” troop levels in Afghanistan: “There’s a handful of countries [that] are carrying the load ... And this is the tragedy.”54 According to David Jacobson, the US Ambassador to Canada, the prime minister had come to believe that Canada had “done more than its share” and could withdraw its combat troops in 2011 without fear for its reputation as a reliable ally.55

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Even so, the Harper government remained open to a non-combat post-2011 commitment in Afghanistan. In February 2010, Cabinet examined three options – small, medium, and large – for a post2011 military mission. It opted for a small role, part of which might involve training the Afghan National Security Forces.56 The United States and nato were pressuring for this, the domestic political landscape was becoming more open to a post-2011 non-combat military mission, and the Liberals were willing to consider supporting such a mission. Liberal leader Michael Ignatieff and Liberal foreign affairs critic Bob Rae began to publicly promote a training mission in the fall of 2009. Rae argued that Canada’s commitment to Afghanistan should not end in 2011 given that nato was planning to leave Afghanistan in 2014.57 This was followed by the publication of a Senate defence committee report recommending that Canada take part in the “training and mentoring of the Afghan National Army and the Afghan National Police ... beyond 2011.”58 That report created an opportunity for yet another bipartisan consensus, this time on a training mission. Prime Minister Harper announced in November 2010 that Canada would be committing as many as 950 troops to nato ’s training mission in Afghanistan in a non-combat capacity. The fact that Harper had seized upon the Liberals’ openness to a training mission illustrates his preoccupation with the potential electoral costs of a third extension of Canada’s war in Afghanistan. The new training mission would ensure that voters would not punish the Conservatives for remaining committed to the war and that Canada would not tarnish its reputation by refraining from any kind of military presence post-2011. Canada had shown itself to be a strong military ally; its credibility in that regard had seemingly been restored. And with a domestic environment strongly opposed to a prolonged combat mission, the decision to scale back Canada’s war effort to a level proportional with its relative power – the eleventh-greatest troop contribution to Isaf – represented a realistic return to a “just enough” strategy.

c o n c l u sI on The 9/11 attacks led Canadian foreign policy to focus primarily – at times exclusively – on fighting Al Qaeda and the Taliban. This was less because of the threat to Canadian security posed by that

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terrorist group and more about its relationship with Washington. Canada’s considerable involvement in the war in Afghanistan, and premature withdrawal from it, was not driven by specific threat perceptions. Rather, it was deliberately aimed at strengthening its relationship with the United States as well as its international status as a credible military ally. The United States withdrew hastily from Afghanistan twenty years after the invasion. It is now worth pondering the implications of Canada’s tendency to go to war for the sake of its own credibility as an ally.59 During the first years of the war, Canadian political elites viewed it as their responsibility to maintain Canada’s reputation as a reliable ally. The Chrétien government had been keen to commit troops with a restricted mandate and for a limited duration; his successors seemed to have been caught up by benchmarks and deadlines imposed from beyond its borders. Perhaps one lesson to draw from the “endless” war on terror is that Canada should set its own political objectives from the outset of a military intervention. This would be transparent for the electorate and would clarify for Canada’s allies the limits of its desire to please them. no t e s 1 Quoted in Mike Blanchfield, “Terrorism threat turns nato into fighting force: Alliance moving further and further from its original focus,” Ottawa Citizen, 24 February 2006, A1. 2 Justin Massie and Benjamin Zyla, “Alliance Value and Status Enhancement: Canada’s Disproportionate Military Burden Sharing in Afghanistan,” Politics and Policy 46, no. 2 (2018): 320–44. 3 Justin Massie, “Why Democratic Allies Defect Prematurely: Canadian and Dutch Unilateral Pullouts from the War in Afghanistan,” Democracy and Security 12, no. 2 (2016): 85–113. 4 Jean Chrétien, “The war will be won,” National Post, 8 October 2001, A10. 5 For a thorough analysis of the main rationales offered by successive governments, see Jean-Christophe Boucher and Kim Richard Nossal, The Politics of War: Canada’s Afghanistan Mission, 2001–2014 (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2017), 55–79. 6 Bill Graham, “Speaking Notes for the Honourable Bill Graham at the Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs,” Syracuse, ny , 8 April 2005, https://www.canada.ca/en/news/archive/2005/04/minister-speechnational-defence.html.

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7 Jean-Christophe Boucher and Kim Richard Nossal, The Politics of War: Canada’s Afghanistan Mission, 2001–2014 (Vancouver: uBc Press, 2017), 69. 8 Stéfanie von Hlatky, American Allies in Times of War: The Great Asymmetry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 94. 9 Massie and Zyla, “Alliance Value and Status Enhancement,” 335; Alexander Moens, “Afghanistan and the Revolution in Canadian Foreign Policy,” International Journal 63, no. 3 (2008): 569–86. 10 Janice Gross Stein and Eugene Lang, The Unexpected War: Canada in Kandahar (Toronto: Viking, 2007), 2. 11 Quoted in ibid., 7. 12 Sarah Kreps, “When Does the Mission Determine the Coalition? The Logic of Multilateral Intervention and the Case of Afghanistan,” Security Studies 17, no. 3 (2008): 542. 13 Stein and Lang, The Unexpected War, 14. 14 Eric Lehre, Canada–US Military Interoperability: At What Cost Sovereignty? (Halifax: Dalhousie University, 2013), 160. 15 Justin Massie, “Canada’s War for Prestige in Afghanistan: A Realist Paradox?,” International Journal 68, no. 2 (2013): 274–88. 16 Stein and Lang, The Unexpected War, 1–20. 17 Chris Wattie, “Ottawa offered to join Iraq War,” National Post, 27 November 2003, A1. 18 Lehre, Canada–US Military Interoperability, 272. 19 Joseph T. Jockel and Justin Massie, “In or Out? Canada, the Netherlands, and Support to the Invasion of Iraq,” Comparative Strategy 36, no. 2 (2017): 177. 20 Dan P. Fitzsimmons, “Bringing nato In: Canada’s Process to Attract nato to Run the Isaf Mission in Afghanistan,” International Journal 68, no. 2 (2013): 305–313. 21 Von Hlatky, American Allies in Times of War, 107. 22 Quoted in Lehre, Canada–US Military Interoperability, 316. 23 Stein and Lang, The Unexpected War, 181. 24 Mathew Willis, “Canada in Regional Command South: Alliance Dynamics and National Imperatives,” Whitehall Papers 77, no. 1 (2011): 52–3. 25 Paul Martin, Hell or High Water: My Life In and Out of Politics (Toronto: Emblem Editions, 2009), 328. 26 Brian Stewart, “Canada in Kandahar, Wrong Place, Wrong Time,” cbc News, 8 June 2011, https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/brian-stewart-canadain-kandahar-wrong-place-wrong-time-1.996033. 27 Philippe Lagassé and Joel J. Sokolsky, “A Larger ‘Footprint’ in Ottawa:

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General Hillier and Canada’s Shifting Civil–Military Relationship, 2005– 2008,” Canadian Foreign Policy Journal 15, no. 2 (2009): 26. Boucher and Nossal, The Politics of War, 18, 23. Stephen Harper, “Address by the Prime Minister to the Canadian Armed Forces in Afghanistan,” Government of Canada (13 March 2006), https://www.canada.ca/en/news/archive/2006/03/address-prime-ministercanadian-armed-forces-afghanistan.html. This section and the following draw on Justin Massie, “Stephen Harper’s War in Afghanistan: Eagerly In, Cautiously Out,” in Harper’s World: The Politicization of Canadian Foreign Policy, 2006–2015, ed. Peter McKenna (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2021), 152–69. Claire Turenne Sjolander, “A Funny Thing Happened on the Road to Kandahar: The Competing Faces of Canadian Internationalism?,” Canadian Foreign Policy Journal 15, no. 2 (2009): 88. Canada, House of Commons Debates, Hansard, 17 May 2006, 1487. Ibid., 1504. Justin Massie, Jean-Christophe Boucher, and Stéphane Roussel, “Hijacking a Policy? Assessing Quebec’s ‘Undue’ Influence on Canada’s Afghan Policy,” American Review of Canadian Studies 40, no. 2 (2010): 259–75. Decima Research, “More Oppose Than Support Extension of Mission in Afghanistan,” 2 June 2006. Jean-Christophe Boucher, “Evaluating the ‘Trenton effect’: Canadian public opinion and military casualties in Afghanistan (2006–2010),” American Review of Canadian Studies 40, no. 2 (2010): 237–58; Yannick Veilleux-Lepage, “Implications of the Sunk Cost Effect and Regional Proximity for Public Support for Canada’s Mission in Kandahar,” International Journal 68, no. 2 (2013): 346–58. Joseph F. Fletcher, Heather Bastedo, and Jennifer Hove, “Losing Heart: Declining Support and the Political Marketing of the Afghanistan Mission,” Canadian Journal of Political Science 42, no. 4 (2009): 911–37. Ann Carroll, “Dion now supports Afghan mission until 2009,” National Post, 23 February 2007, A4. Bruce Campion-Smith, “Tories reject calls to set withdrawal deadline,” Toronto Star, 20 April 2007, A2. Norma Greenaway, “pm must clarify Canada’s new role in Afghanistan: Dion,” Saskatoon Star-Phoenix, 18 August 2007, B8. Gloria Galloway, “Harper to delay troop vote until assured of result,” Globe and Mail, 10 September 2007, A6. Canada, House of Commons Debates, Hansard, 16 October 2007, 5.

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43 Philippe Lagassé, “Accountability for National Defence: Ministerial Responsibility, Military Command, and Parliamentary Oversight,” irpp Studies 4 (March 2010). 44 Sjolander, “A Funny Thing Happened,” 92. 45 Fletcher et al., “Losing Heart,” 930. 46 Ipsos Reid, “Despite New End Date to Afghan War, Most (77%) Canadians Say Canada Should Still End Its Combat Mission in 2011,” Ipsos Reid (5 August 2010). 47 Justin Massie, “Public Contestation and Policy Resistance: Canada’s Oversized Military Commitment to Afghanistan,” Foreign Policy Analysis 12, no. 1 (2016): 58. 48 Murray Brewster, The Savage War: The Untold Battles of Afghanistan (John Wiley, 2011), 309–10. 49 Robert Sibley, “Afghan mission enters election fray,” Ottawa Citizen, 11 September 2008, A1. 50 David Pugliese, “Army ‘stretched almost to breaking point,’” Ottawa Citizen, 19 April 2008, A1. 51 Terry Breese, “Canada: Re-Considering All Options for Its Future Military Role in Kandahar?,” Ottawa, US Embassy in Canada, 17 March 2009, https://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/09OTTAWA218_a.html. 52 Steve Rennie, “Opposition accuses Harper of Afghanistan about-face,” Telegraph-Journal, 3 March 2009, A7. 53 Brewster, The Savage War, 307-10. 54 Tonda MacCharles, “Harper dodges question on Afghan extension,” Toronto Star, 20 December 2008, A28. 55 David Jacobson, “Canada: Top Five Policy Priorities in 2010,” Ottawa, US Embassy in Canada, 4 January 2010, http://wikileaks.org/ cable/2010/01/10OTTAWA1.html. 56 David Jacobson, “Canada’s Plans in Afghanistan Post-2011,” Ottawa, US Embassy in Canada, 18 February 2010, https://wikileaks.org/plusd/ cables/10OTTAWA67_a.html. 57 Canada, House of Commons Debates, Hansard, 5 October 2009, 5574. 58 Standing Senate Committee on National Security and Defence, Where We Go from Here: Canada’s Mission in Afghanistan (Ottawa: Senate of Canada, June 2010), 21. 59 Justin Massie, “Why Canada Goes to War: Explaining Combat Participation in US-led Coalitions,” Canadian Journal of Political Science 52, no. 3 (2019): 575–94.

19 9/11 and the Troubling Creation of a North American “Support the Troops” Discourse Andrea Lane

As they take stock of the twenty-plus years since 9/11, Canadians might be forgiven for asking whether the terrorist attacks of 2001 were still a relevant milestone in their lives. It seems that the post9/11 moment has not endured as strongly in Canadians’ imaginations as in their southern neighbours’, although the “Forever Wars” spawned of that day and discussed in Justin Massie’s chapter saw the last Western troops withdraw from Afghanistan in haste in August 2021. The caf ’s anti–Islamic State mission, itself a 9/11 follow-on, was renewed in 2021 with little fanfare or public attention and with none of the endless “Is it combat or not?” speculation that marked its first iteration. Muslim and racialized Canadians still face discrimination and suspicion stemming partly from the 9/11 attacks – and from the responses to them in North America (defined as the United States and Canada) – but the airport security theatre and general securitization of post-9/11 public life passes for most Canadians unnoticed and unexamined. In light of all this, should we perhaps abandon the “post-9/11” framing altogether? Contrary to the assumption that 9/11 doesn’t matter to Canada anymore, I argue that twenty-plus years later, more than ever, we are overdue for an evaluation of the impact of the “9/11 years” on Canadian society. More specifically, we need to reckon with the manifold subtle and unremarked-upon ways in which Canadian military–societal relations have been influenced by US-style militarism. When the truculent and polarizing Rick Hillier was cds , even mainstream defence academics noticed a change in traditional

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civil–military relations,1 and more critical scholars sounded the alarm over egregious displays of pro-military bombast.2 That initial flurry of commentary died down as the caf was withdrawn from Afghanistan and Hillier was replaced as cds with a series of less newsworthy successors. While civil–military relations are no longer much in the news, a new form of North American cultural integration has quietly emerged since 9/11. Canadians are accustomed to impassioned discussions about “defending Canadian culture” against American television, film, social media, and music. Meanwhile, though, “support the troops” discourse, a nuanceless US blend of simultaneous military veneration and military neglect, has taken root in Canada without our having noticed, and our civil estate is the poorer for it. In this sense, twenty-plus years is not simply a meaningless milestone for it affords us the opportunity to investigate this US cultural import and to understand how it has shaped our defence policy, hindered our political debate, and frayed our social fabric through the promotion of “deserving poor” charities. Instead of contributing to a culture of genuine support for the military – one that by definition necessitates tough conversations about the place of war, sacrifice, and death in our collective politics – this veneer of “support the troops” boosterism has impeded any true debate about the caf , our defence policy, and, ultimately, the responsibility of sending others to die in our name. This chapter will discuss the evolution of Support the Troops (StT) culture in North America, trace its emergence post-9/11 in Canada, and shows how it is creating a warrior caste of “citizens-plus” caf members even while stifling much-needed debate as to the morality and ultimate utility of our defence policy. I argue that, in the course of pursuing an increasingly unpopular and stagnant war in Afghanistan, both government and non-governmental military stakeholders capitalized on genuine impulses to support the caf to produce StT discourse, which had originated during the Vietnam War as a US political phenomenon. Besides serving primarily as “a mechanism for disciplining the public sphere”3 and suppressing any questioning of the merits of any given military intervention, in Canada, since 9/11, StT has functioned to play up ideological divisions between Canadians, thereby contributing to the further politicization of defence and security affairs.

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I ’ m p r o u d t o Be an amer Ican t o lIv e In c a nada 4 The war in Afghanistan provided what were, in some ways, the perfect conditions for the importation of US-style military veneration into Canada and the development of a North American StT culture. The events of 9/11 had jolted Canadians into supporting a broad range of “hard security” initiatives, and successive Liberal prime ministers including Jean Chrétien and Paul Martin both capitalized on public sentiment to spend money on border security, boost the defence budget, and beef up anti-terrorism legislation.5 While Canadians had been sent into combat initially by a Liberal government with relatively broad public support, the election in 2005 of Stephen Harper’s Conservatives brought to power arguably the most pro-American government since Brian Mulroney and Ronald Reagan had sung from the same sheet music in the 1980s. Though Harper was born in Toronto, his Conservative Party was ideologically and electorally beholden to the western ghost of the populist, socially conservative Reform Party, whose politics had always been heavily influenced by the United States.6 Harper had previously criticized what he saw as a long-standing anti-American current in Liberal politics,7 and even before becoming prime minister, he had argued that supporting the United States militarily after 9/11 was the right thing to do both morally and for the benefit of canus relations. Harper had argued for Canada’s participation in the 2003 invasion of Iraq; now, in 2005, he settled for being junior partner in the “good” 9/11 war: Afghanistan. Harper’s turn toward US-style militarism was deliberate, part of a broader societal transformation he desired in order to rid Canada of small-and-large-l Liberal traits such as support for peacekeeping and international aid and the benign neglect of Canada’s military and imperial history.8 Support for the military – and a particularly muscular and belligerent version of the military at that – was foundational to Harper’s view of Canada. Some analysts9 identified Harper’s pro-military rhetoric as an overt and deliberate break with what many held as quintessentially “Canadian.” But at a time when the caf was engaging in combat in Afghanistan, and the flag-draped coffins of fallen soldiers were in the news, Harper’s veneration of the military seemed to resonate with Canadians.

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“ s u p p o r tIn g ” “ t he troops” US-style public militarism in Canada had begun under cds Hillier and had accelerated while Harper was prime minister. When Justin Trudeau was elected prime minister in 2015, his Liberal government did not immediately walk back the Conservatives’ pro-military positioning. Instead, the Liberals released an ambitious and expensive defence policy and emphasized the combat credentials of their new Minister of National Defence Harjit Sajjan.10 Painting themselves as defenders of the caf did three things for the Liberals: it bolstered the electoral prospects of a party long viewed as weak on defence; it beefed up the image of Trudeau, whose opponents often feminized him; and it capitalized on an already militarized public’s sympathies for the post-Afghanistan caf .11 It seemed that StT as a shibboleth of Canadian politics was here to stay. The existence of a “support the troops” impulse is not in itself a problem, and neither is that discourse’s emotive aspects – Canadians are free to feel an emotional connection to their military if they so desire. However, the history of StT as a political discourse is tied up with inherently un-Canadian sociocultural phenomena, which makes its increasing political salience in Canada troubling, and overdue for critical analysis. The “support” aspect of the modern StT narrative is an artifact of the vicious Vietnam War debates in the United States. As public opinion turned against that war, right-wing political actors accused anti-war activists – many of them Vietnam veterans themselves – of vitiating “the troops’” abilities to fight. President Richard Nixon and then-Governor Ronald Reagan explicitly linked anti-war protests with the military’s inability to achieve victory in Vietnam, going so far as to allege that “some American [soldier] will die tonight because of activity in our streets,”12 foreshadowing the blame-shifting of the Forever Wars, wherein the narrative became “the [US and Canadian] militaries won the tactical wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, but the civilian governments screwed up the strategic victory.”13 In the United States, the first Gulf War (1991) saw the development of the now ubiquitous “yellow ribbon” campaigns, as well as President George W. Bush’s explicit linkages between popular support for that war – unlike for Vietnam – and military success.14 Indeed, “the yellow ribbon may be understood as [a] uniquely North American, populist response to the recalibration

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of national politics”15 after the end of the Cold War, and in particular after the attacks of 9/11. Following the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan, Yellow Ribbon/StT discourse functioned across North America both as one side of a debate and as a mechanism for stifling debate altogether. However absurd it was to claim “apolitical” status for a state apparatus such as the caf , in Canada – as in the United States – attempts to push back against the increasing prominence of StT iconography in civic life brought about the arguments of “we support the troops, not the war” or “this isn’t about politics.”16 As McCready points out, “the assumptions bound up in the yellow ribbon circumvent the fact that the debate about Canada’s role in the Global War on Terror has never truly occurred.”17 Moreover, the Americanism of the yellow ribbon, and of StT discourse more generally, was never fully examined in Canada. By the time Canadian soldiers were deployed into combat in Afghanistan, StT narratives had evolved and accreted into the depoliticized forms we see them take now – a North American cultural phenomenon that elides very important distinctions between Canadian and American culture, history, and civil–military relations.

j u s t d e s e r ts? One particularly troubling aspect of the developing North American StT phenomenon is the manner in which it supports a “deservedness” narrative. Sociologists and others who study class, welfare, and charity are attuned to the ways in which both public and private welfare provision is historically linked to notions of deservedness, in which some people are in need of assistance through no fault of their own, and others are “lazy,” “stupid,” “worthless,” or a “burden on society.”18 In Canada, as in the West more generally, veterans are traditionally distinguished from others in need as being inherently “deserving” by dint of service rendered to the nation (or the Crown). In the United States, where the welfare state is small and grudgingly provided, the benefits granted by military service – and military service alone – are manifold and enduring, offering one of the few consistent venues of socialized welfare in the country.19 This is an important difference between the two countries, which I argue has been buried by the development of Americanized StT discourse in Canada. During the coronavirus pandemic, we have paid lip service to the bravery and self-sacrifice of pandemic “health care

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heroes,” but we still see a notion of “unique” deservedness when we look at the multiplicity of private and quasi-private veterans’ charities that have sprung up in Canada in the aftermath of the war in Afghanistan. These new charities, small and large, mirror a parallel development in the United States (and UK), where military charities have far outstripped the growth of the charitable sector as a whole.20 This renewed notion of the “citizenship plus” of veterans has been enmeshed with long-standing notions of “the deserving poor” to create an environment in which any number of dubious claims can be accepted – and in many cases, taxpayer-funded – so long as their purported benefits accrue to veterans. Partly due to the way in which defence issues have never been top of mind for Canadian voters, “what the Canadian military is and what it does” has never been thoroughly and publicly debated. The transition from total war in the Second World War, with its citizen-soldiers, to the Cold War, with an all-volunteer force and an existential threat to “the West,” through peacekeeping in the post–Cold War chaos, though to the 9/11 gwot wars, passed by unremarked upon by most Canadians and without reshaping the collective Canadian consensus as to what “veteran” means. While military history and battlefield glories past may have decreased in political or media salience, as Prime Minister Harper argued, the general air of quiet respect for past combatants continued apace, unexamined, and augmented by more overt patriotism during the war in Afghanistan. Veterans were good people (good men, mostly) who had done good things for Canada under conditions of great hardship; whether this simplistic mental image had been accurate since Korea – if ever – was of little import. This benign neglect of civil–military relations, and the lack of debate as to what our military does for us, in our name, created the conditions in which US-style StT discourse could take root in Canada. The debate over what, if anything, military veterans are “owed” by Canadians came to a head in 2006 when the Harper government tabled the “New Veterans’ Charter,” which, among other things, changed the way in which disabled veterans were financially compensated. The charter had previously been introduced and passed with cross-party support in the House of Commons under Paul Martin’s Liberal government.21 Replacing a pension scheme that was designed to support those wounded in the Second World War and Korea, the new framework was met with outcry from some military

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advocates, and also from those for whom it was politically beneficial to be seen as supporting veterans. Many of these passionate defences of veterans did two things simultaneously: evoke the familiar image of the frail Second World War veteran gamely limping up the steps to place a wreath at Remembrance Day services;22 and elide the distinction between civilians who volunteered to serve in the short-term under conditions of total war and those who – like current caf members – embarked on a voluntary, well-paid, and on the whole undangerous career23 with unrivalled job security.24 Harper himself, whose government in 2014 was fighting with veterans’ groups on the matter of pensions, could not resist describing a “red and white thread of constant resolve” that linked Vimy Ridge to Operation Medusa.25 As part of StT discourse more generally, the conflation of pre– and post–Second World War veterans creates an environment in which their support is rendered apolitical, where “‘support,’ then, is presented as a matter of morality rather than politics,”26 and where the origins of the need for support – the legitimacy of the war, the nature of their trauma, the pre-existing societal status of the recruit – are anathema. In addition to quelling questions about the legitimacy of unpopular modern conflicts by tying them to (near) universally favoured world wars, when “veterans” is detemporalized, “a line of continuity is drawn between the soldiers of today and those of the past, suggesting that the duty of commemoration and remembrance arise[s] from a more enduring, structural relationship than that of seeming spontaneous iterations of support.”27 By the time a class action lawsuit against the federal government was launched in 2012, there was little room for nuance in the discussion about veterans’ benefits. Phrases such as “sacred obligation” and “the honour of the Crown” were bandied about by politicians on all sides as parties raced to pin blame on one another while competing as to who loved the caf more. Harper worked tirelessly to emphasize that the New Veterans’ Charter (nvc ) was a Liberal project that had been passed with all-party support, but to no avail: in the end, the Conservative Party “wore” the issue, even after Minister of Veterans Affairs Julian Fantino was replaced by Erin O’Toole, himself an rcaf veteran. Perhaps due to the ostentatious (and expensive) gestures Harper had lavished on behalf of Canadian militarism, such as the commemoration of the War of 1812 via a pin worn by all serving military, and the imposition of the Vimy Memorial on Canadian banknotes, his party’s parsimony when it

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came to veterans seemed a greater betrayal.28 In a surprising turn of events, the Conservatives found themselves hoist on their “decade of darkness” petard, with Justin Trudeau’s Liberals campaigning – and, some allege, winning – on their 2015 promise to revamp the nvc and return to “lifelong” pensions. While there are individual cases of veterans who fell between the gaps in the new framework, and whose attempts at redress were frustrated by the slow pace of the Veterans Affairs bureaucracy, the overarching narrative of “Canada is neglecting its heroic veterans” was specious, and wielded as a political cudgel in bad faith by actors on all sides. Moreover, the ferocity and meretriciousness of the political debate over the nvc has tied the hands of future parties that, like the Trudeau Liberals, might wish to avoid being painted as “anti-military.” By focusing at once on the dollars and cents of “Canada’s debt” while also stifling debate as to the moral legitimacy and strategic utility of what we ask the caf to do – in Afghanistan, in Iraq, or in Latvia – the nvc debate managed to import the very worst of the US’s knee-jerk “support the troops” discourse, without bringing in any of that country’s more mature and fruitful civil–military relations scholarship. Politicians and advocates focused on the pathos – young men with missing limbs, their working lives supposedly cut short – while all but ignoring larger, tougher questions such as, “Has politicians’ casualty aversion created a situation in which we ‘save’ soldiers with grievous injuries, only to leave them with no quality of life?,” and, “If we can predict who is more likely to suffer post traumatic stress disorder (ptsd ) in combat, is it morally sound to send them into war?,” or even, “Has our commitment to supporting the US militarily actually paid off diplomatically?” All of these questions, which relate directly to the “what we owe veterans” debate, were sidestepped in favour of a focus on the “not enough money and respect” discourse. The neglected veteran narrative found support, however, in the emergent veterans’ charitable sector. As the war in Afghanistan dragged on, a new crop of privately funded veterans’ charities arose, aimed at supplementing the government support provided to veterans. As in the United States and the United Kingdom, whose societies’ militarization is profound and long-standing, in Canada, many of these larger charities, while privately funded, also receive grants from vac , which blurs the lines between philanthropy and public service provision. Of course, philanthropy is never neutral or

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apolitical: funding and resources are power, and their subjects are never chosen at random. There is always, just out of sight, a tune being chosen by the entity paying the piper, however altruistic the cause. Military philanthropy, however, is perhaps the least apolitical of all, and the public funding of such endeavours raises important questions about the equitability and ideological underpinnings of these charities. The largest and best-known of these charities, the True Patriot Love Foundation (tpl ), is illustrative of this blurring of public and private funding. Its “About Us” page describes this charity as stemming from a direct challenge by the then-cds in 200829 to a group of Toronto-based philanthropists, who held a gala dinner to fundraise for “soldiers ... returning home from Afghanistan.”30 The website describes tpl ’s comparative advantage as working “closely with the Canadian Armed Forces, Department of Veterans Affairs,” to “clearly identify the most urgent needs of our military families on a national scale.” “Military families,” conceptually, provides an organizing principle for the charity’s activities. The children and spouses of caf members are described throughout the website as “military families,” in which the occupation of the (presumed) father orders – and in most cases pathologizes – the family as inherently “military” and thus in need of specialist military/veterans’ support providers.31 This assigning of “unique” status to “military families” leads quite often to the conception of military families as deserving unique support. tpl describes funding summer camp opportunities for the children of caf members as “sending deserving kids to camp” and providing “a brief reprieve from the everyday stresses associated with being part of a military family.”32 Other post-9/11 veterans’ charities echo the paternalism and traditionalism apparent in this “family” formulation by emphasizing that the veterans helped are sole breadwinners, with multiple dependent children, who are thus both more deserving and more vulnerable due to this lifestyle choice.33 There is little that can be criticized in the charitable impulse, nor is this to suggest that helping these families is somehow wrong or morally suspect. The desire to help those in need is among the finest qualities of being human. What is subject to criticism, however, is the manner in which deservedness is assigned to veterans, and in particular, how this deservedness is broadcast via charity websites, in part to solicit for more donations. Especially when one considers the rather bathetic requirements for official

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veteran status in Canada – any former member of the Canadian Armed Forces who releases with an honourable discharge and who successfully underwent basic training34 – the prominence of fundamentally un-Canadian “deservedness” narratives in the post-9/11 veterans’ charitable sector cannot be left unchallenged.

mat e r I a l e f f e c t s o f Id eolog Ical m Is match No idea can ever be adopted without its conceptual “baggage” coming along as well, and in the case of the post-9/11 North American StT narrative, this baggage has had important societal and financial effects in Canada. While the Canadian and US militaries interoperate frequently and see themselves as more closely integrated than most Canadians realize, the social milieux in the two countries – the demographics of military service, the socio-economic effects of service, the racial composition of each military, and the history of the military’s uses – are dramatically different. Because of this “baggage,” the importation of US-style deservedness narratives has led to poorly considered service provision for veterans in Canada, both governmental and non-governmental. Even in Canada, the Vietnam War roots of the deservedness narrative are still visible, especially in one particular aspect of veterans’ charities: homelessness. A tax-registered not-for-profit, Homes For Heroes Canada is an emblematic veterans’ charity in many respects.35 Its logo is a beret-wearing saluting male soldier; its website’s home page features an enormous yellow ribbon overlaying images of (male) combat soldiers in full military gear assembled somewhere dry and dusty. An emotive blurb provides the context for the charity’s purpose: The Homes for Heroes foundation was developed in response to the growing number of military veterans who are facing crisis as they return to civilian life and find themselves on the path to homelessness. As many as 5000 veterans are homeless and living on the streets in Canada. These veterans put their lives on the line to protect our freedoms and now they need, and deserve, our support.36 This brief paragraph encapsulates the apoliticized and “citizen-plus’” dynamics of StT narratives and their concomitant charities. We are asked to believe that every person meeting the definition of “veteran”

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has indeed “put their lives on the line to protect our freedoms” – itself a characteristically American concept – and also presents the veteran as “a super-citizen whose service not only distinguishes him as morally superior, but entitles him to the best support and social welfare”37 – in this case, specially built veterans’ “mini-homes.” There is no mention on the Homes for Heroes Canada website of the fact that the mini-homes concept – indeed, the “veteran homelessness” branding more generally – has been lifted wholesale from the United States. Veteran homelessness became a political issue in the United States after the Vietnam War, which saw many young men conscripted to fight against their will by a classist and racially inequitable draft system. Veterans’ homeless charities in the United States are many and prominent, and “mini-homes” are the latest iteration of the support provided. Even in the United States, where the number of homeless veterans is comparatively higher than in Canada, charities such as Operation Tiny Home38 conflate homelessness, precarious housing, and general poverty – besides stretching the definition of veteran – to make their case for donations. The “uniqueness” of veteran homelessness is a frequent feature of “tiny home” charity provision. For example, the estimated prevalence of ptsd in the United States among the veteran homeless population is described as the reason why they need housing in tiny homes rather than shelters: “Often [veterans] prefer living ‘in the woods or on the street with other veterans, because they feel safer than trying to go to sleep around other people.”39 This, of course, is the rationale given by many non-veteran unhoused people, some of whom prefer tent encampments or rough sleeping even when shelter beds are provided. Moreover, there is no questioning of why ptsd rates among homeless veterans are so high – no discussion of modern warfare’s tendency toward weaponry that produces traumatic brain injuries, or whether the gwot ’s counterinsurgency focus exposes too many military members to moral injury. Questions like these are never asked by supposedly apolitical veterans’ homelessness charities. In 2020, when Homes for Heroes’ Calgary tiny home village opened, a ctv news story featured two residents of the village: one American man who had spent eight and a half years in the US military, and another man who had spent two years as a reservist in Alberta and whose homelessness stemmed from a brain tumour.

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The Minister of Veterans Affairs, who was present at the opening, estimated there were 3,000 veterans facing homelessness across Canada.40 Perhaps inadvertently, the news article pointed to one of the main flaws in the veterans’ homelessness crisis narrative: it isn’t precisely true in Canada. Veterans, as a population, are not overrepresented among the Canadian homeless population. Those veterans who are homeless are rarely so due to their military service, which is primarily short-term and long in the past.41 It is in fact women veterans – who are not well-served by charities such as Habitat for Humanity – who are overrepresented in the unhoused demographic. While appealing to donor and neighbour alike, tiny homes communities are not the best way to deliver transition services. Moreover, unhoused veterans are much older than the average unhoused population – much more likely to be over sixty-five – indicating that the popular image of the noble combat soldier plagued by ptsd from his recent war experience – from any war experience, really – is unlikely to be true. What this shows is that by focusing on the veteran aspect of veteran homelessness, charities (and government agencies) are selecting the wrong causal variable. What unhoused people with military experience are more likely to have in their diagnostic background is addiction, family breakdown, sexual trauma, eviction – any of the numerous risk factors for homelessness – rather than veteran status. Focusing on unhoused veterans as if they have special needs by dint of being veterans is almost certainly counterproductive and inefficient. Of course, the fact that charities to address homelessness are doing so in a counterproductive or inefficient manner is a long-standing reality; the international development literature is rife with examples of charity projects whose methods and goals are designed around the wishes and ideologies of their donors, not the people they supposedly serve. On the surface, criticism of the well-intentioned-but-wrong seems at the very least peevish, if not suspiciously anti-military. Good intentions aside, the problem with such charities, and with the prevalence of StT narratives and campaigns in Canada, I argue, is that the manner in which these charities advocate for veterans, and the services they provide, is contributing to a dangerous and un-Canadian precedent: the provisioning of care – and societal merit – along “deservedness” lines rather than according to need. Moreover, the involvement of municipal, provincial, and

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federal governments – and thus taxpayers – in funding and supporting post-9/11 StT initiatives means that these ideologically driven inefficiencies have broader political ramifications and are thus worthy of further scrutiny and critique.

c o n c l u s Ion: t we n t y - p l u s y e a r s o f “ s upport the troops ” Support the Troops discourse has, since 9/11, begun to fulfil in Canada the same function it does in the United States: “as a strategic bludgeon to suppress dissent and to guarantee that war opponents lose any debate. Indeed, the appearance of the phrase is often a signal that there will be no debate.”42 One of the tenets of small-government neoliberal conservatism is that once awarded, government “entitlements” like welfare and pensions are difficult to remove; they become a societal expectation that citizens of all ideologies come to rely on. Somewhat ironically, since 9/11 it has been ostensibly conservative politicians and interest groups that have been the loudest advocates for the continuous accrual of more and more benefits to veterans – benefits not just governmental but societal. This hypocritical tension between conservatism and antisocialism on the one hand, and the effuse and expensive benefits lavished on the military and veterans on the other, has always been visible in the United States. There, the fragmentation of an impoverished civil welfare state has been matched by the fulsome provision of cradle-to-grave educational and health benefits to service members. Canadians would be wise to avoid the further importation of “hate socialism, love Tricare!”–style politics to Canada, nor should we allow uncritically the extension of more and more societal benefits to caf members – still overwhelmingly white and male – while quietly dismantling dignity, job protection, pensions, social assistance, and basic humanity for other Canadian workers. Indeed, the coronavirus pandemic has laid bare the stark differences between the “essential” workers whose lives we value – caf members – and those we don’t – racialized, feminized, and impoverished retail, health care, and manufacturing workers. Perhaps most importantly, we ought to resist any notion that being critical of the caf , or of militarization, or of veterans’ benefits, or of defence spending, or of specific military deployments – that any of this criticism implies a dislike of, or a lack of sympathy for, “the troops.” US-style StT

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discourse suppresses our essential deliberative citizenship, which honours the many sacrifices of our military by insisting that they be suitably equipped to perform missions in the interests of all Canadians and that injuries they incur in service be adequately addressed and provided for on the basis of need, not deservedness. Deliberative citizenship recognizes that military veterans are, first and foremost, Canadians, and are entitled to dignity, security, and compassion as citizens, not as veterans. If, in the middle of a pandemic, we can learn one enduring lesson from the twenty years since 9/11, let it be this: that cheap talk of heroism benefits no one; rather, the provision of true “support” requires investment and hard political choices – and the recognition that the military is not alone in serving Canadians. not e s 1 Philippe Lagassé and Joel Sokolsky, “A Larger ‘Footprint’ in Ottawa: General Hillier and Canada’s Shifting Civil–Military Relationship, 2005– 2008,” Canadian Foreign Policy 15, no. 2 (2009): 16–40. 2 David Mutimer, “The Road to Afghanada: Militarization in Canadian Popular Culture,” Critical Military Studies 2, no. 3 (2016): 210–25; A.L. McCready, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon ’Round Public Discourse, National Identity, and War,” Topia 23–4 (2010): 28–51; Nicole Wegner, “Militarization in Canada: Myth-Breaking and ImageMaking through Recruitment Campaigns,” Critical Military Studies 6, no. 1 (2020): 67–85. 3 Roger Stahl, “Why We Support the Troops,” Rhetoric and Public Affairs 12, no. 4 (2009): 534. 4 The “Highway of Heroes” has been associated with a viral slideshow of images and music since its inception during the Afghanistan war. The music is from “God Bless Canada,” for which, in 1989, at President H.W. Bush’s behest, American country music artist Lee Greenwood rejigged the lyrics of his saccharine, jingoistic hit song “God Bless the usa .” The new lyrics scan, in a perfect, terrible “North American Freedom creole,” a metaphor for the poor cultural “fit” of American StT discourse in Canada. 5 Duane Bratt, “Mr. Harper Goes to War,” 2007 cpsa paper, https://www. cpsa-acsp.ca/papers-2007/Bratt.pdf. 6 Frederic Boily, “La droite Canadienne et l’influence Americaine: l’incubateur Albertain, ” Journal of Canadian Studies 49, no. 1 (2015): 128–54. 7 Boily, “La droite Canadienne,”147. 8 Marie-Eve Desrosiers and Phillipe Lagassé, “Military Frames and Canada’s Conservative Government: From Extending to Transforming

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Perceptions of Canadian Identity,” Commonwealth and Comparative Politics 54, no. 3 (2016): 219. For a short overview, see Scott Staring, “Harper’s History,” Policy Options, 1 February 2013, https://policyoptions.irpp.org/fr/magazines/ aboriginality/harpers-history/ Desrosiers and Lagassé, “Military Frames,” 308. Andrea Lane, “Manning Up: Justin Trudeau and the Politics of the Canadian Defence Community,” in Justin Trudeau and Canadian Foreign Policy, ed. Hillmer and Lagassé (New York: Palgrave, 2018), 261–84. Reagan qtd in Stahl, “Why We Support the Troops,” 553. For an example, see Craig Whitlock, “Stranded without a strategy: Bush and Obama had polar-opposite plans to win the war. Both were destined to fail,” Washington Post, 9 December 2019, https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/2019/investigations/afghanistan-papers/afghanistanwar-strategy. Stahl, “Why We Support the Troops,” 554. McCready, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon,” 30. For a taste of this, see anonymous, “Toronto to keep ‘Support the Troops’ decals, ” cbc News, 20 June 2007, https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/ toronto/toronto-to-keep-support-the-troops-decals-1.663046. McCready, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon,” 34. For an accessible overview, see Michael Katz, The Undeserving Poor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). For an academic investigation, see Jeene et al., ‘Popular Criteria for the Welfare Deservingness of Disability Pensioners: The Influence of Structural and Cultural Factors,” Social Indicators Research 110, no. 3 (2013): 1103-17. For an engaging discussion of this from a conservative perspective, see Liesel Kushel, “The US Military Is a Socialist Organization,” The Nation, 4 November 2019, https://www.thenation.com/article/archive/socialismunited-states-military. Katharine Millar, “They Need Our Help: ngos and the Subjectifying Dynamics of the Military as Social Cause,” Media, War, and Conflict 9, no. 1 (2016): 10. Murray Brewster, “Stephen Harper partially disowns veterans charter amid demands Fantino resign,” cbc News, 10 December 2014, https:// www.cbc.ca/news/politics/stephen-harper-partially-disowns-veterans-charteramid-demands-fantino-resign-1.2866858. Jonathan Minnes, “Law and Social Justice: Scott vs Canada,” Canadian Military History 25, no. 1 (2016): 8. Ibid., 9.

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24 For a typical exemple of this genre, see Sean Bruyea, “Don’t let Ottawa make financial scapegoats of our veterans,” Globe and Mail, 17 August 2010, https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/dont-let-ottawa-makefinancial-scapegoats-of-our-veterans/article1377277. 25 Text found at News Staff, “Text of Stephen Harper’s speech at D-Day ceremonies,” City News, 6 June 2014, https://toronto.citynews. ca/2014/06/06/text-of-stephen-harpers-speech-at-d-day-ceremonies. 26 Millar, “They Need Our Help,” 13. 27 Ibid., 21. 28 Minnes, “Law and Social Justice,” 11. 29 It is unclear whether this is Hillier or his successor, Gen. Walt Natynczyck, as 2008 was the year of their changeover. 30 See: https://truepatriotlove.com/?gclid=CjwKCAjwmJeYBhAwEiwAXlg0ATXS9hwhELrTgmhFgub11B8bJGfQaX_53O7exhuaB0Dedob-gjZ8rRoChY0QAvD_BwE. In the interest of full disclosure, I attended the second tpl gala in 2010, as a guest; the foundation provided free tickets for officers attending the Canadian Forces College and their spouses. 31 This ordering has also been accepted by critical scholars who see the “military family” as the locus of co-constitution between military and society (see, for example, Leigh Spanner, “Governing ‘Dependents’: The Canadian Military Family and Gender, a Policy Analysis,” International Journal 72, no. 4 (December 2017), but I argue that this categorization is informed by patriarchal assumptions about the impact of fathers’ occupations, as well as by a tendency to privilege the military as “unique” over other, more mundane occupations whose family dynamics might be similar – for example, seasonal fishers or itinerant oil workers. 32 True Patriot Love, “Supporting a relaxing destination for over 1,200 children of military families since 2011,” 2018, http://tpl.poundandgrain. ca/sending-kids-to-camp (emphasis added). 33 Veterans’ Affairs, “Success Stories: Foreclosure Averted,” https://vetscanada.org/english/about. 34 Veterans Affairs Canada, “Mandate, Mission, Vision, Values, and Ethics,” 6 July 2022, https://www.veterans.gc.ca/eng/about-vac/what-we-do/ mandate. 35 See https://homesforheroesfoundation.ca. 36 Ibid., emphasis added. 37 Cowen 2008, in Millar, “They Need Our Help,” 17. 38 See Operation Tiny Home, https://www.operationtinyhome.org/ be-an-advocate.

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39 Andrew Hirshfield, “Can Villages of Tiny Homes Help America’s Homeless Veterans?,” Ozy, 15 December 2019, https://www.ozy.com/ the-new-and-the-next/can-villages-of-tiny-homes-help-americas-homelessveterans/242432. 40 Bill Graveland, “‘A Roof over My Head’: Tiny Homes Provide Hope for Homeless Military Veterans,” Canadian Press, 3 February 2020, https:// www.ctvnews.ca/canada/a-roof-over-my-head-tiny-homes-providehope-for-homeless-military-veterans-1.4794735. 41 The most comprehensive examination of veteran homelessness, relative to that of non-veterans, indicates that the reasons for homelessness are similar. Government of Canada, “Homelessness Data Snapshot: Veteran Homelessness in Canada,” 8 August 2022, https://www.infrastructure. gc.ca/homelessness-sans-abri/reports-rapports/data-veterans-donnees-eng. html. See esp. Figure 1: Reasons for homelessness cited by veterans and non-veterans, PiT Count 2018 (n = 596 veteran respondents and 12,613 non-veteran respondents). 42 Stahl, “Why We Support the Troops,” 535.

20 North America, What North America? Andrea Charron, Alexander Moens, and Stéphane Roussel

What began as an investigation of the legacy of that infamous September morning in 2001 has highlighted more themes than perhaps originally anticipated. Now it is our turn to tease them out and reflect on their implications. What is widely regarded as a monumental event in history seems to have had very mixed effects on North American integration. Did 9/11 help unify North America, or did it further dismantle it? But first, we must consider what did and did not change post-9/11. For an event that is a key marker in international relations and that portended a fundamental rethink of the primary threats to states – no longer just other states, but also non-state actors – it is surprising what has remained constant and not so constant for North America. We then turn to the concept of “North America.” Has it been reinvigorated as a political entity, or does it remain no more than an idea? And, finally, the now what? What does all of this mean for a “North American” response to future crises? The short answer is that there is no consensus on how 9/11 did or did not change the three states of North America twenty-plus years ago, and of course this book focused mostly on Canada and to a lesser extent Mexico. This lack of consensus points to a broader difficulty in making methodologically rigorous claims about the changes North America experienced in the aftermath of 9/11: to what extent are the changes observed accurate, and to what extent are they the imposition of the authors’ own interpretation of the significance of the events themselves and their aftermath? Especially in a retrospective – one about an event that was so significant – untangling impressions from reality in hindsight (and with faulty memory) is difficult. But

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impressions are important – they shape the interpretation of future events – and too few of us ask, who and what issues are included in this entity we call North America?

w h a t dI d c h ange? We divided the volume into four sections that corresponded to ideas about America; the border, trade, and economics; security and society; and the defence of North America. The first thing to note is that 9/11 was a significant event for Canada, the United States, and Mexico, albeit in different ways. There were notable changes in each of the four categories, especially as they related to the Mexico–US and canus borders. The dominant perspective overall when it comes to what changed post-9/11 is the canus perspective. Few authors really consider the decisions taken by Mexico. This is for a variety of reasons, but largely because 9/11 is often viewed through the lens of the launch of a twenty-year operation in Afghanistan that excluded Mexican direct participation, given that the mission became a nato -led endeavour (eventually) and also because Mexico’s constitution barred a military contribution. For Lane, then, Canada’s foray into Afghanistan demands that we reckon with the manifold subtle and unremarked-upon ways in which Canadian military-societal relations have been influenced by US-style militarism. All three states created new security- and intelligence-related institutions (indeed, there was an institution bonanza), but they did not copy one another, as John Gilmour cautions. Given 9/11, counterterrorism became the defence focus of US allies as discussed by Nash and Massie, and this made travelling anywhere in the world decidedly more onerous. Even Quebec had to adopt new policies, as noted by Jean-Christophe Boucher, Jean-François Payette, and Stéphane Roussel. As a result of the gwot , a term defined by the George W. Bush administration, greater coordination between national policy agents was deemed essential. Some cooperation was forged, and there was a promise of more intelligence-sharing and greater attention to critical infrastructure protection, as well as an end to the financing of terrorism and to the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction to non-state actors. But these initiatives were often US-led at the international level. Within North America, security cooperation between the three states was fleeting

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and took the form of mainly bilateral arrangements anchored in US concerns. Take, for example, policing in Canada. Kitchen writes that Canada fundamentally changed its thinking and policies regarding policing because of the need to satisfy its US neighbour in the wake of 9/11. In North America, unlike in Europe pre-Brexit, borders came back with a vengeance, and who or what could cross international borders came under increased scrutiny. There was no Schengen Area1 moment for the United States, Mexico, and Canada; a trilateral security partnership was formed, but only briefly. Instead, it was the trilateral trade pact, nafta , which had been negotiated prior to the terrorist attacks, that integrated and joined various trade sectors among the states while maintaining the sovereignty of each. North America is still together but separate. If we focus on just the canus relationship – as most of the authors have done – there is evidence that 9/11 created some stronger ties, but only in discrete policy areas and sometimes only temporarily. Was 9/11 a moment? A catalyst to discrete changes? Was it life-altering? The answer: It all depends. The events of 9/11 highlighted norad ’s failure to prevent an air attack against Canada or the United States – its primary mission – and in response to that failure, the number of Canadian and US information feeds to the command was increased, the binational agreement was signed in perpetuity, and norad was given an additional mission suite – maritime warning. For Charron, Fergusson, and St John, 9/11 was the catalyst for a different norad . For Haglund, the “Kingston Dispensation” pledge was renewed in the form of a binational planning group to coordinate even deeper canus defence cooperation and integration. More recently, it has served as the framework for a fundamental reconsideration of what it means to defend North America in all domains: air, space, maritime, land, and cyber, and even in the cognitive domain, where mis-, mal-, and dis-information campaigns thrive. On the Mexico–US and Mexico–Canada front, the defence relationship kept to the status quo in the interim, but refocused on the issue of illegal migration and border control, according to both Hristoulas and Hale. Trump’s famous “wall” epitomized just how polarizing approaches to the borders in North America can be. Despite three oceans and relative amity among the three countries, the borders became a more contentious issue post-9/11 and into the Covid-19 pandemic. Indeed, the pandemic has reinforced the

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three states’ independence from one another. But as Lilly and Walter remind us, 9/11 was also instrumental in preparing Canada and the United States to deal with Covid-related border closures.

w h a t dId n o t change? The events of 9/11 reinforced the Canadianness, Mexicanness, and Americanness of North America. The idea of a single “North America,” which did not exist pre-9/11, did not become more prevalent afterward. In this sense, the 9/11 shock was not as transformative as other economic shocks have been, as outlined by many of the authors, including Budning and Hampson, Ayres and Macdonald, and Anderson. Trudgen confirms that if there was a change, it was only for a “moment”; strategic defaults prevented wild swings in policy. The two-layered nature of trade and border cooperation – one with Canada and its large southern neighbour and the other with Mexico and its large northern neighbour – always extended the US unique power and leverage over the other two. Trump exploited this bifurcation, and the renaming of nafta to the three initials of the states (cusma , usmca or tmec ) is significant and further evidence that North America in nafta was always three countries lacking a common denominator rather than a unified whole. The already weak dispute resolution mechanisms became even weaker after nafta was renegotiated. The “regionalization” of North America has been repeated in security and border measures in the wake of the 9/11 attacks, where the constant is US dominance. Indeed, the United States became more of itself post-9/11, meaning that the emphasis, for it, remains on securing its own national interests, with or without allies.2 There continues to be a decided divergence, which Wilfrid Greaves contends is growing stronger because of different social norms. When it comes to security within North America, the value each country places on “North America” differs. For Nash, the canard that is “sleeper cells” continues to colour the thinking of Americans, who perceive, incorrectly, that Canada’s border and immigration controls are lax. This idea that Canada can be a danger to the United States has been very difficult to shake, as noted by Haglund. The United States has always been deeply concerned about homeland security, but it has also always maintained that the best defence is to deal with threats away from North America. This tendency to

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overlook and undervalue defence at home has been changing only recently, with technological advances and the advent of two peer competitors to the United States, which have watched and learned from US errors in the world. Twenty years later, as troops withdraw from Afghanistan to focus on homeland defence, one wonders how long this new focus will last, especially given the aggression of Russia and the rise of China. The other constant for the United States is the “America first” world view. This is not particular to any one party or president, but rather a constant that is more muted at times (i.e., “with a smile” rather than a “growl”). Ensuring that trade rules benefit the United States (sometimes to the detriment of the other two states), the arrest of Mexican Secretary of National Defence Salvador Cienfuegos Zepeda at the Los Angeles airport noted by Hristoulas, and the rebordering and debordering noted by Macdonald and Ayres are some of the examples discussed in this book. Both Canada and Mexico have always had to adapt to their larger and demanding neighbour. Canada has rarely missed an opportunity to aid the United States, on the assumption that this will confer on Canada influence with the United States – so Nossal and Roussel argue. But Canada has also been particularly tone deaf to key US concerns. For example, Canada has refused to participate in ballistic missile defence, and Canada has been accused of trade dumping and unfair quota practices – and of being an economic “free rider” and defence partner “easy rider.”3 This constant reliance on showing up to secure influence transcends political parties – perhaps the one truly nonpartisan Canadian policy stance when it comes to bilateral relations. This policy is actually more suited to the world we have today, twenty years post-9/11 – to a world that is decidedly less democratic and rule-abiding. Internationalism has always had an uneven take-up by states around the world, and sometimes being seen to support the United States can be a liability. After 9/11, it was the thing to do, and in today’s new world order, it continues to be the only option. A caution is in order, however: in a time of great power politics, in which the United States feels more vulnerable, it will be decidedly less tolerant about garnering mere “quality” from allies – it will demand quantity too. Canada will need to provide tangible rather than just rhetorical assistance. For Mexico, avoiding the ire of the United States remains the goal. Despite increased participation by Mexico in usnorthcom

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and a very close relationship between Vicente Fox and George W. Bush (based on a genuine friendship), and Trump and López Obrador (based on a penchant for populism), the best policy outcomes for the Mexicans have long been inversely related to the amount of attention the United States pays to them. Trump, for example, made a big deal about building a wall along the southern border, but the fact remains that a physical division has long been there in one form or another. Indeed, the first barrier built between the United States and Mexico was constructed between 1909 and 1911 at another time when US attention was piqued by transborder movements. The chapters in this volume suggest that, on balance, more has remained the same than has changed in the relations among the three states post-9/11. This suggests that a North America unified in terms of economic, trade, border, security, defence, and societal values remains a far-off theoretical notion rather than a practical reality. Not surprisingly, then, the perspectives of the authors gathered here are also not aligned. And why should they be? We, the editors, are struck that the notion of North America is issue- and perhaps even discipline-specific. This lack of convergence on an idea in political studies generally is a great puzzle and one to be solved by the next generation of North American academics.

w h a t Is n o r t h amerI ca? Where did the concept of “North America” come from? We are reminded by Greg Anderson that no one has had as mature a theoretical concept of the North American idea as the late American scholar Robert Pastor. Pastor also had a vision of how to get there. The competing view was captured in Clarkson’s 2008 book titled Does North America Exist?4 Rather than the theoretical “North America” that Pastor imagines, the authors of this volume wrestled with the practical idea of North America as a political/social and economic entity and its viability in practice. In other words, do the three states (Mexico, Canada, and the United States) actually “hang together” as one actor with the same goals and ideas in a variety of issue areas post-9/11, or do they remain independent, with only a few connections, largely via the United States? Consider that the ftaa project disappeared after 2006 and that the spp launched in 2005 disappeared after 2009. As for the tri-

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lateral meetings of the nals , they are held irregularly. Nor were new challenges faced by North America (such as recessions and the pandemic) approached trilaterally. The most likely source of inspiration for a “North American region” stems from comparisons with Europe as referenced by Budning and Hampson. Those who study the European Union remember that after the famous treaties of Rome in 1958, nothing changed what was then the European Economic Community (eec) as much as the Single European Act of 1986, as a result of which Europe went from a mixed customs union and common market to a single market. Soon after that, the eec became the European Union and the bureaucracy in Brussels launched the Europe 1992 campaign, which was all about globalization and global corporations setting up inside the eu trade bloc to share in the new-found economies of scale. The chapters in this volume on trade and the border show that North American trade integration did not follow the European path post-9/11 despite the great promise of the spp . No single market came about. While the nafta ink was still drying, US businesses flew off to China and the pace of globalization left North American trade somewhat orphaned, though it is still the single largest free trade area in the world (measured by gdp ) – so far, at least. One of the trends post-9/11 was a reversion to nationalism stemming from the perceived need to protect the state from “others,” especially terrorist organizations. When the world is divided into those “with us” or “against us,” it creates the conditions for racism to flourish. Racism has always existed in North America, but after 9/11 and the gwot , the focus was almost exclusively on Sunnibased forms of terrorism, which led to increased racism toward anyone thought to be Muslim. This blinded some to the other, more persistent forms of racism – anti-black, anti-Hispanic, and antibrown. The jump from 9/11 to populism can be traced through the growing layers of nationalism – the deepening of “America first,” “Canada first,” and “Mexico first” – which means “we” are now left with a more fragmented North America than pre-9/11. Not surprisingly then, when the world was faced with a global pandemic, the inclination was to plan not for a “North American” approach, notwithstanding that North America remains deeply integrated via vital supply chains, but rather for an every-state-for-itself approach that extended beyond North America to much of the world.

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n o w w h at? On paper, North America has the most potential of all the continents in the world. It has the geographic advantage of three oceans separating it from worldly troubles. It has enormous amounts of natural resources, advanced technology, high standards of living, and intellectual talent. It has the world’s most vibrant global research and development sector and an entrepreneurial culture to use it all, fuelled by abundant capital. Not least, it has a large and relatively young labour force and a diverse culture (thanks to immigration), which is a distinct advantage in today’s competitive world. If the legacy of the past twenty-plus years is held up to the light of academic scrutiny, however, we quickly realize that reality is much more complex. Perhaps the stark conclusion that can be drawn from the legacy of 9/11 is that all three states missed a genuine opportunity to pursue greater trilateral integration. One is hard-pressed to conclude that North America is now more ready or more prepared to use its advantages than before 9/11. It is arguably even more divided now than it was then. Populism is apparent in all three states, and rather than serving as a common thread to draw the states together, it is yanking them farther apart. The United States, unilaterally, turned the world’s attention to terrorism. But did the threat of non-state terrorism really change the security dilemma of international politics? Or is it now apparent that this emphasis was overblown and that North America ignored the rise of China and the prickly nature of Russia? Did North America overlook a golden opportunity post-nafta to create a closer economic space that would allow it to be a stronger region in the coming global power struggles? Is it a matter of taking the three states for granted, or is it more systemic? As Philip Cunliffe suggests, unipolar globalization and a Western penchant for humanitarian idealism blinded the West (and North America) to how the world really is, as opposed to how we wish it to be.5 Crossing the border between any one of the three “partners” is still more like crossing a checkpoint than a smart border or travelling within the Schengen area. This became especially noticeable as very different Covid vaccination requirements were adopted. What had been a race to keep the borders accessible post-9/11 (a debordering process) became one to close the borders given the

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pandemic (a rebordering process). Each state benefits from natural resources, labour, and markets and is dependent on the others for all of these, yet when there is a crisis, these dependencies are forgotten. The benefits of debordering North America in order to facilitate “smarter” security checks of people and goods away from the border have been overtaken by new, protectionist sentiments. There is, however, an element that we have left out of the analysis. It is vital but immeasurable. It is the millions of ties that Canadians, Americans, and Mexicans have to one another. Whether they involve travel, work, tourism, school, citizen engagement (like the North American Forum and Trilateral Commission),6 or even crisis management, the individual connections criss-crossing North America are more significant than is often credited. 9/11 did force Canada, the United States, and Mexico to consider one another, if only briefly. More crises, especially as they relate to climate change, will inevitably befall North America. We can expect similar reactions as we saw during 9/11 and in its aftermath: initial coordination and cooperation, but in the hub-and-spoke model of Mexico with the United States and Canada with the United States instead of a partnership among the three. North America is more than a geographic designation but it is not yet unified. Rather, it remains a motley trio with decidedly personal connections that may never come to form a unified whole. If 9/11 was insufficient as a catalyst for meaningful integration, we wonder if it will ever come to pass. not e s 1 The Schengen Area comprises twenty-six European states with few internal borders for the free and unrestricted movement of people, in harmony with common rules for controlling external borders and increased policy cooperation. 2 Ascribed to Joel Sokolsky. 3 Christian Leuprecht and Joel Sokolsky, “Defense Policy ‘Walmart Style’: Canadian Lessons in ‘Not-So-Grand’ Grand Strategy,” Armed Forces & Society 41, no. 3 (2015): 541–62. 4 Stephen Clarkson, Does North America Exist? (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008). 5 Philip Cunliffe, The New Twenty Years’ Crisis: 1999–2019: A Critique of International Relations (Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2020).

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6 The North American Forum (naf ) and Trilateral Commission is a group of Canadian, Mexican, and American business leaders, academics, and former government personnel who discuss common areas of interest. The naf was formed in 2005; the Trilateral Commission, which also meets with Western European and Asian partners, was formed in 1973.

Contributors

greg anderson is professor in the Department of Political Science at the University of Alberta. Dr Anderson’s research is primarily on the political economy of North American integration. jeffrey ayres is chair and professor of political science and international relations at St Michael’s College. Dr Ayres’ areas of expertise are globalization, social movements and contentious politics, and Canadian and North American politics. jean-chrIstophe Boucher is assistant professor in the Department of Political Science at the University of Calgary. Dr Boucher’s research focuses on Canadian foreign and defence policy, conflict analysis, and computational social science.  kevIn BudnIng is a PhD student in the Norman Paterson School of International Affairs at Carleton University. Budning’s research focuses predominantly on right-wing extremism in Canada, the United States, and Western Europe. andrea charron is associate professor in political studies and director of the Centre for Defence and Security Studies at the University of Manitoba. Dr Charron has written extensively on the Arctic, norad , Canadian defence policy, and sanctions. naBIla de la cruz garcIa is an ma candidate at the University of Manitoba in political studies. She is originally from Mexico.

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james fergusson is the deputy director of the Centre for Defence and Security Studies and professor in the Department of Political Studies at the University of Manitoba. Dr Fergusson’s areas of expertise are foreign and defence policy, international relations, and strategic studies. john gIlmour is a former member (retired) of Canada’s intelligence and national security community. He has a PhD in war studies from the Royal Military College of Canada. wIlfrId greaves is assistant professor of international relations at the University of Victoria, British Columbia. Dr Greaves’s research focuses on Canadian foreign policy, Canada–US relations, and the politics of the circumpolar Arctic. davId g. haglund is professor in the Department of Political Studies at Queen’s University. Dr Haglund’s research is primarily focused on American foreign policy, transatlantic relations, and Canada–US relations. geoffrey hale is professor in the Political Science Department of the University of Lethbridge. Dr Hale’s research focuses on North American integration, Canada–US relations, border management and security, political economy, and foreign investment and capital markets. fen hampson is Chancellor’s Professor and professor of international affairs at the Norman Paterson School of International Affairs at Carleton University. Dr Hampson’s research is primarily on internet governance, international organizations, and conflict resolution. athanasIos hrIstoulas is professor of international relations at the Autonomous Technological Institute of Mexico. Dr Hristoulas’s research focuses on Mexican national security and North American security cooperation. veronIca kItchen is associate professor of political science at the University of Waterloo and the Balsillie School of

Contributors

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International Affairs. Dr Kitchen’s research is primarily on national security in a Canadian context, from the perspective of critical and feminist security studies.

andrea lane is assistant professor in the Department of Defence Studies at the Canadian Forces College. Dr Lane’s research focuses on Canadian foreign and defence policy, with particular attention to the politics of defence, personnel and procurement, and gender in security. meredIth lIlly is associate professor at the Norman Paterson School of International Affairs, Carleton University, where she holds the Simon Reisman Chair in International Affairs focused on trade policy. Dr Lilly’s research focuses on Canada–US trade relations, international labour mobility, and economic sanctions. laura macdonald is professor in the Department of Political Science and the Institute of Political Economy at Carleton University. Dr Macdonald’s research focuses on Latin American politics, Mexican politics, North American politics, Canadian foreign policy, and democracy and civil society. justIn massIe is professor of political science at the Université du Québec à Montréal and co-director of the Network for Strategic Analysis. Dr Massie’s research focuses on the global power transition, multinational military coalitions, and Canadian foreign and defence policy. alexander moens is professor of political science at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver and the director of the nato Field School and Simulation Program. He is a senior fellow at the Macdonald Laurier Institute. Dr Moens’s research focuses on nato and Canadian Armed Forces, Canadian and American defence policy, European security and defence policy, and great power politics. shannon nash is a post-doctoral research fellow at Trent University with the North American and Arctic Defence and Security Network. Dr Nash has ongoing projects examining education

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Contributors

and training in national security and counter-terrorism in Canada and how the “terrorism” label is informed by and applied to violent attacks in Canada.

kIm rIchard nossal is professor emeritus of political studies at Queen’s University in Kingston. Dr Nossal’s research focuses on Canadian foreign and defence policy, Australian foreign and defence policy, Canadian–American relations, and international stabilization missions. jean-françoIs payette teaches international management at the School of Management Sciences of Université du Québec à Montréal and is the scientific director of the Observatory of Policy and Security in the Arctic. Dr Payette’s research focuses mainly on Quebec nationalism, Quebec international relations, Quebec society, and the provinces and territories as regards the Arctic question. stéphane roussel is professor of political science at Ecole Nationale d’Administration Publique (enap ). Dr Roussel’s research interests relate to Canadian foreign and defence policy, with particular emphasis on the relations with the United States and European countries. elIzaBeth st john completed a bachelor of arts (honours) in political studies at the University of Manitoba. matthew trudgen is a historian and currently research and policy analyst for the Canadian federal government. Dr Trudgen’s expertise includes the history of Canadian foreign and defence policy, the Royal Canadian Air Force’s involvement in un peacekeeping operations, and Cold War history. emIly m. walter is an ma candidate at the Norman Paterson School of International Affairs at Carleton University. Her research interests focus on the implications of environmental and social provisions in trade agreements.

Index

7/7 attacks, 231, 239n7 9/11 attacks: aftermath, 20–6; airport screening intensified, 23; the attack, 3, 13–19; border closures, 19; Canada’s defence plans, 22; Canadian airspace shut down, 17; Canadian foreign policy, effects on, 71; Canadian officials’ whereabouts during, 17; Chrétien’s response to, 74; death of naI and, 36; deaths from, 19; evaluating impact on Canadian society, 318; Freeland’s 2017 speech and, 69; how things changed after, 6–10; international response to, 20–1; logic of securitization and, 101–2; Mexico’s defence plans, 22–3; nato response to, 20–1, 23, 28n22; neads response time, 13–14; North American protection plans established, 21–2; Quebec’s response to, 199–200; US border protection plans, 23; US-bound flights diverted to Canada, 17

9/11 Commission Report, 21, 29n25, 214, 215, 217, 283; timing and sequence of 9/11 events not clear, 16 Abrahamsen, Rita, 71 Abu Nidal, 27n18 Action Plan 2006–2009 (Quebec), 200 Action Plan 2009–2014 (Quebec), 200; priorities re government security and, 208 actIve endeavour (nato), 21 Afghan Interim Authority (aIa ), 21 Afghanistan: instability of, 25–6; twenty-year war against, 7–8; US sends special forces to, post9/11, 20 Afghan war, Canada and: combat mission extended to 2011, 310–13; commits to training role in, 313; compensation for “no” on Iraq, 306–8; credibility, gaining, 305–6; Harper seeks bipartisan accord on, 311; Harper’s war, 308–10; Kabul mission,

350

Index

307–8; Kandahar mission, 308, 309, 312–13; military commitment, 306; opposition to, 310; reasons for fighting, 304–6, 313– 14; support role, 144–5; twoyear extension of mission, 311 Aguilar, Francis, 8 airports, investments re protection and safety, ccra and, 105–6 airport screening post-9/11, 23–4 Akerman, Spencer, 5 al Marri, Ali Saleh Kahlah, 287 Al Qaeda, 24, 282; 9/11 attackers affiliated with, 20; changed operational environment for, 288; extremists post-9/11 inspired by, 289; hardening and splintering of, 25; responsible for 9/11, 3; sleeper cells, 86, 285; and US–Mexico border, 246. See also sleepers “America first,” 339 American Airlines Flight 77, 14–15, 27n5 American South, as regional subculture, 173, 178–9 Amlo. See Lopez Obrador, Andres-Manuel Andersen, Louise Riis, 71 Anderson, Greg, 8 Andreas, Peter, 103 Annan, Kofi, 20 Anti-Terrorism Act (Bill C-36), 105 Arar, Maher, 234 Arnold, Major General Larry, 13 Ashcroft, John, 92n7 Austin, Lloyd J., 30n40 auto sector, US protectionism and, 143–4 Axworthy, Lloyd, 56

Barrick, Leigh, 108 Bergen, Peter, 288 Beyond the Border (BtB ) initiatives, 122, 123, 141, 152; Action Plan, 23, 230, 236; Next Generation (NxtGen) project, 236 Biden, President Joe, 30n40, 160; Amlo’s letter to, 255; Buy American strategy, 144; Can–US border reopening task force, 156–7; Keystone construction blocked, 143; on rise in political extremism, 294; withdrawal of troops from Afghanistan, 185 Biden administration: conventional approach to protecting US interests, 128; Covid-19 response, 110–11; Indo-Pacific Economic framework and, 126; Trump protectionist measures and, 128 Bigo, Didier, 207 bilateralism: Can–US security cultures, 179–81; cusma reinforces, 45–6; dual, 47, 120, 140 bilateral trade, Can–US, post-9/11, 138–9, 141–4; Covid-19 and, 153, F153 Bill C-11 (Immigration and Refugee Protection Act), 105 Bill C-36 (Anti-Terrorism Act), 105 Bill C-42 (Public Safety Act), 105 bin Laden, Osama, 20, 27n18; death of, 24 biometric identifiers, 139, 148n18 biometrics, 23, 249 Bissett, James, 85 Bloodworth, Margaret, 17, 223 Bonn Agreement, 21

Index border, Can–US: as security threat, 284–5, 287; thickening of, 40, 52, 60, 128 border closure 2020: automatic expiry clause, 155–6; bilateral nature of, 150–1, 153–4; differences from 9/11 border closure, 156–9; essential vs non-essential travel, 154–5; key elements of, 152–6; maintaining trade flows a priority, 154–5; negative consequences for trade with US, 156–7; pandemic export controls, 159–60; positive lessons from 9/11 closure, 161; public health issues, 156; quarantine requirement inconsistent, 159; reopening, 161; services and trade, negative effects on, 157–8; small business hit hardest by, 156–7; tourism and US vehicle entries, 157–9, F158 border closure post-9/11, 150 border friction(s) post-9/11, 134– 49; bilateral trade and, 142–4; BtB initiative, 141; coordinating border administration, 139–40; effects of more border security, 141–2; energy and auto sectors, 143–4; Obama and dual bilateralism, 140; priorities re positive integration, 146; securitization of Can-US border, 146, 149n34; spp, 139–41; Smart Border Declaration, 138–9, 141; travel barriers eased, 141; Trump’s nafta renegotiation, 144; US imposes Customs Level 1 Alert, 138; US protectionism and, 143– 9. See also integration theory

351

bordering practices, 101–2; 9/11 and “Mexicanization” of Can–US border, 102–8; onceptualizing, 101–2 border processes, North America, 95–115; 9/11 vs Covid-19 responses, 100; Canada’s post9/11 responses, 105; Covid-19 responses, 110; intensification of securitization policies, 104–5; “Mexicanization” of Can–US border, 103; pressure on Canada and Mexico to reform border policies, 103–4; US seals southern border, 102–3. See also debordering; rebordering border(s): conceptualizing practices, 101–2; economic, 135; overlapping, 101–2 border security: cooperation at, 235–6; Mexico–US initiatives, 252 Boucher, Jean-Christophe, 9 BrIcs (Brazil, Russia, India, China), 72 British North America Act (Bnaa ), 204 BtB. See Beyond the Border initiatives Budning, Kevin, 9, 40 Build Better Act (US), 144 Burns, Conrad, 12n16 Bush, President George W., 6, 16, 55, 340; being reconsidered, 7; chose Mexico for first foreign visit, 41; dhs , little interest in, 57–8; linked support for war and military success, 321; sleeper cells and, 287; whereabouts during 9/11, 19

352

Index

Bush administration, 40; global war on terror (gwot ) and, 51; moratorium on refugee admissions, 104 Bush Doctrine, 185 Buy American protectionist actions, 143–4 Buzan, Barry, 4 Calderon, Felipe, 251 Calvert, Lorne, 18 Canada: Afghan mission adopted US practices, 25; Antiterrorism Act (Bill C-51), 24; bilateral trade with US, 137; central to norad’s 9/11 response, 265–6, 278n7; concerns re US security posture, 51; constitutional powers, division of, 204–5; defence policies and 9/11, 144–5; defence relationship with US, 53–5; defence systems, 53–6; defensive interest in nafta , 39, 44; dependence on US markets, 118, T119; dispute resolution mechanisms with US maintained, 45–6; economic competition from BrIcs and mIkta , 72; economic place, 2001 vs 2021, 117–21; ends combat mission in Afghanistan, 24; fdI with US, 137; funding for Canadian Studies in US eliminated, 43; international activism and leadership, 184; internationalism post-9/11, 69; joint border policy re Covid-19, 154; “lax” policies blamed for 9/11, 7, 12n16, 23, 29n23, 85, 92n5, 181, 286, 298n25; layered security cooperation and Quebec,

202; listing al Qaeda as terrorist entity, 28n18; losing market share to China, 143; Meng Wenzhou arrest, 127; multilateral foreign policy, 90, 182; national defence arrangements, 58; national identity, factors affecting, 176–7; negotiations with asean bloc, 126; no norad funding, 277; norad regional headquarters, 277n2; post-9/11 defence plans, 22; safeguarding border supply chains, 122–3; seen as Al Qaeda safe haven, 285–6; sexual misconduct accusations in military, 25, 30n40; Smart Border agreement with US, success of, 245; social values, 174; sovereignty issues and defence, 51, 55, 60, 136, 156, 180; Syrian refugee plan, 2015, 292; Terrorist Entity Listings, 294; trade diversification initiatives, 125; trade with the US, 128–9; US democracy, importance of, 186; visa requirement for Mexican naturals, 42; welcomed diverted planes, 17. See also trade and security Canada, national security infrastructure: assumptions re reasons for reorganizing Canada’s, 214–15; Canadian and American agencies compared, 218–20; Canadian counterparts of US initiatives, 217–20; Can–US organizational and mandate differences, 220–4; dhs , creation of, 214, 216; Director of National Intelligence (dnI , US),

Index 216–17; informational stove-piping and, 225–6; Integrated Terrorism Assessment Centre (Itac ), 220; Itac vs nctc , 223–4; National Security Advisor (Canada), 218, 219; nsa and dnI functions compared, 223; nsa and dsI roles, 219–20; Open Society policy (Canada, 2009), 218, 220; organizational initiatives within US, 215–17; post-9/11 reorganization of Canada’s, 214–28; psepc and dhs compared, 220–3; US agencies not sharing information, 214–16; US and Canada, differing responses, 224 Canada, United States, Mexico Agreement (cusma ), 45; bilateral relations with Washington, 45–6; dispute settlement mechanisms, 45–6; naming conventions for, 50n25; renegotiation, 127–8; retreat from trilateralism, 45–6; US populist-nationalist discourse and, 127–8 Canada First Defence Strategy, 28n21 Canada–Mexico relations, 39; accommodation of US priorities, 125; bilateral initiatives with Washington, 42; post-9/11, 7; problems re, 41; show of solidarity in Washington dealings, 44–5 Canada Revenue Agency (ccra ), investments re border protection/ safety, 105–6 Canada’s foreign policy, 68–82; Chrétien’s liberal internationalism, 74–5; Harper’s

353

neoconservatism/continentalism, 75–6; Kuhnian pluralism shift and, 69; no serious review since 2005, 76–7; politics of inertia and, 72; Pierre Elliott Trudeau and, 73. See also liberal internationalism Canada–United States Accord on Our Shared Border 1995, 148n14 Canada US Free Trade Agreement (custfa ), Liberal Party ad re, 99 Canada–US relations: 9/11 attacks and, 71; 9/11 effects on, 337; 9/11, impact on, 51–67; 9/11 moment and, 56–61; American concern about Can-US border, 84–6; border lessons from 9/11 literature, 152; border management, 137–8; Clarkson’s view of, 39; counterterrorism cooperation, 87; defence relationship, historical, 53–6; defence relations in 2001, 55–6; integration theory and, 135–7; and Millennium bomber, 86; nationally distinctive ways of war, 52–3; North American stable peace and, 83–4; peaceful relations institutionalized, 170; positive integration, drivers of, 136–7; security-ness of, 181; security shock, 116; Smart Border Declaration, 40–1; strategic culture and, 52–3; terrorist attacks awakened old fears re border, 87 Canadian Armed Forces (caf ): anti-Islamic state invasion, 318;

354

Index

citizens-plus members, creating, 319 Canadian Border Services Agency (cBsa ), 85; human element of border control and, 221; Safe Third Country Agreement and, 146–7 Canadian Joint Operations Command (cjoc ), 273 Canadian Security Intelligence Service (csIs ), 229 Cannistraro, Vince, 92n5 Capling, Ann, 6 Card, Andy, 58 Carlos the Jackal, 27n18 Castañeda, Jorge, 246 Cauchon, Martin, 18 cBs Sixty Minutes broadcast, April 2002, 85 Cellucci, Paul, 17, 58, 123; security trumps trade, 51 Charron, Andrea, 10 Cheney, Vice President Dick, 55, 99 Cheyenne Mountain norad Operations Center, 13, 14 China: Canada hostages Kovrig and Spavor, 127; Canada losing market share to, 143; not Great Power challengers pre-9/11, 6; rising trade competition from, 118, T120; threats from, 274–5 Chrétien, Prime Minister Jean, 6, 17, 55, 320; and coalition against Iraq, 71; foreign policy of, 74–5; low-key approach to 9/11, 18; refusal to support Iraq invasion, 74–5; response to 9/11, 74; seen as unreliable security partner, 84; statement on 9/11, 305

Chrétien administration: border accord, 40–1; global war on terror and, 145 Cirillo, Corporal Nathan, 24 Clarke, Richard, 288 Clarkson, Stephen, 36–7, 128–9; Does North America Exist?, 6, 45–7; skepticism re North American integration, 38–9 climate change, 26 Clinton, Hillary, 29n29; believed Islamic terrorist Christmas Eve story, 84–5 Clinton, President Bill, 56, 57; nafta and, 37–8 Clinton administration: Canada’s defence contributions, 55; not interested in trade, 39 Coalition Avenir Québec, international policy statement and migrants, 203 Coderre, Denis, 84 Collenette, David, 17 Come From Away, 7, 17 Coulon, Jocelyn, 68 counterinsurgence (coIn ) doctrines (US), 20 counterterrorism: defence focus of US allies, 336; influenced how and where terrorists operated, 288, 299n41; reduced terrorists’ attack capacity, 286; Ressam’s arrest and, 284–5; sleeper fixation, reduced effectiveness of, 290. See also Canada, national security infrastructure Couture-Rouleau, Martin “Ahmad,” 24 Covid-19 pandemic, 7, 24, 71; 9/11 as preparation for, 338; bilateral

Index trade, drop in, 153, f1 53; border response to, 100; Buy American strategies and, 144; military “deservedness” narrative and, 322–3; misinformation, spread of, 294; quarantine requirements, 159; rebordering North America during, 108–11; unilateral responses to, 117. See also border closure 2020 Cox, Michael, 4 Crenshaw, Martha, 290 Cuccinelli, Ken, 110 Cuomo, Mario, 93n16 cusma. See Canada, United States, Mexico agreement (cusma ) Daesh, 30n39 data exchanges, 139, 148n18 Day, Stockwell, 18 debordering, 102; Covid-19 responses and, 111 Defense Condition 3 (defcon 3), 16 Defense Production Act (US), 160 Delisle, Jeffrey, 235, 242n32 Department of Homeland Security (dhs ): border management and, 140; components of, 57–8; creation of, 22, 43–4, 57, 216; managerial role vs psepc managerial role, 222–3 Dion, Stéphane, 77, 309, 310–11 Distant Early Warning (dew ) Line, 53–4 Does North America Exist? (Clarkson), 6, 46–7 Driver, Aaron, 235, 242n33 dual bilateralism. See bilateralism Duceppe, Gilles, 18

355

Eberhart, Commander General Ralph, 14, 265 economic integration: defence and security issues and, 136; positive and negative, 135–7 economic integration theory, 135–6 Eggleton, Art, 17, 267 End of History and the Last Man, The (Fukuyama), 12n13 energy policies, 143 energy sector, Keystone pipeline blocked by US, 143 European Steel and Coal Community, 136 European Union, academic funding for research into itself, 43 Evolution of North American Defense, The (evonad ), 273 Exercise gloBal guardIan , 19, 27n14 Fadden, Richard, 225–6 Fantino, Julian, 324 Federal Bureau of Investigation (fBI ): homeland security and, 58; sting operations post-9/11, 291 Federal Emergency Management Agency, 57–8 Fergusson, James, 10 Fesler, Bridgadier General Peter, 275 Findley, Major-General Eric, 14, 265 Five Eyes security partners, 127 Flight 93, United Airlines, 3, 16 Ford, Doug, and Trump respirator exports, 160 foreign policy. See Canada’s foreign policy

356

Index

forever wars, 318, 321 Fortmann, Michel, 86, 87 Fox, Vicente, 7, 246, 340; 9/11 response, 18; Bush chooses for first foreign visit, 41 fracking, 121 francopol (Quebec), 202 Free and Secure Trade (fast ) program (Can-US), 23 Freeland, Chrystia, 68, 77; border announcement, 156; liberal internationalism, defence of, 68–9 free trade. See North American Free Trade Agreement (nafta ) Free Trade Area of the Americas (ftaa ), 37, 40 Friedman, Kathryn, 137–8 Fukuyama, Francis, 3; The End of History and the Last Man, 12n13

gatt, Uruguay Round of, 37 Giffin, Gordon, 74 Gilmour, John, 10 Gingrich, Newt, 12n16 globalization: doubts re, 38; public resistance to, 118; trade agreements and, 37 global war on terror (gwot ), 51; Afghanistan as first target, 56; Canadian participation in, 145; focus on, 56–7; vs home security, 57; paved way for Trump’s populism, 11n9; security coordination required by, 336–7 Globerman, Stephen, 142 Gortney, Admiral William, 273 Graham, Bill, 305 Grant, Julie, 134

Greaves, Wilfrid, 9 Greenwood, Lee, 331n4 Haglund, David, 8 Hale, Geoffrey, 9, 39 Hamon, Mark, 289 Hampson, Fen, 9, 40, 137 Harkat, Mohamed, Security Certificate, 287, 298n34 Harper, Prime Minister Stephen, 25; Afghanistan war and, 145, 308–10; Mexican visa issues, 251; neoconservative foreign policy, 75–6; no foreign policy review, 76–7; pulling out of Kandahar, 312; rebilateralization and, 42; support for Afghanistan war, 308–10; US-style militarism of, 320 Harper administration: Canada as courageous warrior, 182; New Veterans’ Charter (nvc ), 323–4, 325; trade diversification and, 125; veteran support issues, 324–5 Harris, David, 85 Hayden, General (Ret.) Michael, 56 Henault, General Ray, 17 Herzog, Lawrence, 101–2 Highway of Heroes, 331n4 Hillier, General Rick, 318 Hoffman, Bruce, 289 Hofmann, David C., 289 Holmes, John W., 73 homelessness: counterproductive to approach to, 329–30; minihomes, 328–9; veteran aspect as wrong variable, 329. See also veterans

Index Homes for Heroes Canada, 327–8 Hristoulas, Athanasios, 10, 42 Hurricane Katrina, 26 Hussein, Saddam, 25, 145

Ice, 110; Trump administration added powers to, 107 Ignatieff, Michael, 311 Immigration and Refugee Protection Act (Bill C-11), 105 Indo-Pacific Economic framework, 126 Integrated Border Enforcement Teams (IIBet s), 230, 235–6, 249, 257n22 Integrated Cross-Border Maritime Law Enforcement Operations (Icmelo ), 236 integration theory, 135–7 Intelligence Reform and Terrorism Prevention Act (Irtpa ), 148n18 International Day of Peace (UN), 13, 26n1 internationalization, 198 International Narcotics Control and Law Enforcement Agency, and Mérida Initiative (Mexico), 250 International Security Assistance Force (Isaf ), 21; Canada takes over command of, 307, 308 International Trade in Arms (Itar ) regulations, 126 Iraq: US and UK shift focus to, 24–5; US unilateralism and, 183 Iraq war, fuelled jihadi movement, 288–9 Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (IsIs ), 288

357

Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (IsIl ), 25 Islamophobia, 28, 293, 294, 295 Jacobson, David, 312 Jacoby Jr, Army General Charles, 272 James, Patrick, 4 Jockel, Joseph, 54 Kanishka Project, 234 Kayaoglu, Turan, 294 Keeble, Edna, 221 Kergin, Michael, 18, 58, 138 Keystone xl pipeline, construction permit denied, 143 Kingston Dispensation, 86–9, 337; defined, 88; narrative re North American security cooperation, 91–2; North American stable peace post-9/11, 83–95; stable peace theory and, 90–2. See also Canada–US relations Kitchen, Veronica, 10 Kovrig, Michal, 127 Kuhnian pluralism, 69 Kupchan, Charles, stable peace theory, 90–1 Landry, Bernard, 198 Lane, Andrea, 10 Lang, Eugene, 306, 308 Leslie, General Andrew, 312 Level 1 Alert, 103 liberal internationalism: and Canadian foreign policy, 68–9; Chrétien government and, 74–5; damage wrought by Bush and Trump administrations, 72–3; as a dominant idea in Canada, 70;

358

Index

failure of alternative ideas, 73–6; reality and global impact of 9/11, 71–3 Liebermann, Senator Joseph, 57 Lighthizer, Robert, 127 Lilly, Meredith, 9 Longhurst, Kerry, 52 Lopez Obrador, Andres Manuel (Amlo), 245, 251, 340; populist presidency of, 253–4, 255 Lucas, Major-General Steve, 266 Maastricht Treaty (eu ), 37 MacAuley, Lawrence, 18 Macdonald, Laura, 9 MacKenzie King, William Lyon, 89 Macklem, Tiff, 142–3 Madrid railway bombings, 231, 239n6 Manley, John, 17, 58–9, 306, 311; on sharing information post-9/11, 226 Marr, Colonel Robert, 13 Martin, Prime Minister Paul, 17, 76, 214, 218, 308, 320 Martin government, national security strategy, 214 Massie, Justin, 10, 177 Mattis, James, 274 McCallum, John, 307 McLellan, Anne, 18; comments on psepc, 222 Mearsheimer, John J., 71 Meng, Wenzhou, Huawei executive, arrest by Canada, 127 Mérida Initiative (mI ), 250–1, 252, 253, 258n26 Mexicanization of border, 102–8, 124

Mexico: 9/11 attacks, impact on, 246, 337; al Qaeda, 28n18; border accord, 41; border management agreement with US, 246–7; borders, threats from, 23; dispute settlement resolutions with US eliminated, 45–6; free trade agreements with US, 48n7; limits re ability to fulfil promises, 249; military sexual misconduct allegations, 25, 30n40; nafta +, 246; nafta , adjusting to, 120; North American security policy, 248–9; in North America, 248– 55; post-9/11 defence plans, 22–3; post-9/11 policy issues, 248; response to 9/11, 11n1, 18–19; transmigration issue, 253; two-way American trade and, 128; ueIta , 249–50; UN peacekeeping operations, participating in, 252, 258n35; unsc and, 24–5, 30nn36, 38. See also Canada–Mexico relations Mexico, North American security policy, 244–59; capacity re terrorism threat, 249–50; deepened cooperation with US, 251– 2; drug cartels issue, 253–4; Mérida Initiative (mI ), 250–1, 252, 253, 258n26; political infighting affected, 249; security cooperation issues with US, 253– 4; Security Law (Mexico), 254– 5; smart border agreements, 246–7; spp , 247–8 mIkta, 72 military families, 326 Millennium bomber, 86 Monroe Doctrine, 89

Index Moussaoui, Zacarias, 287 Mueller, Robert, 290 Mullins, Sam, 284 Mulroney, Prime Minister Brian, 74; Liberal Party ad re support for custfa , 98 Muslims: monitoring communities of, 290; racism against, 293; scrutiny of, 295. See also Islamophobia Myers, General Richard, 266–7

nafta. See North American Free Trade Agreement

nals declarations, 42 Napolitano, Janet, 141, 181 narrative generation, 91 Nash, Shannon, 10 nationally distinctive ways of war, 52–3 National Security Intelligence Reform Act (US), 217 National Security Investigations Service (rcmp ), 232 national security policing, integrated national security enforcement teams (Inset s), 232, 235 national security policing in Canada, 229–43; all hazards approach, 230–1, 232; challenges and course corrections, 237; evolution of perceived threat, 230–1; homegrown terrorism, 231; IBet s, 235–6; Icmelo (Shiprider), 236; institutional changes in, 232–4; institutional cooperation, 235–6; inter-agency cooperation, 232; legacies of 9/11, 237–8; local police, 233; NxtGen, 236;

359

p/cve efforts, 233, 234; police liaisons and information sharing, 234–5; provincial/regional forces, 232–3; right-wing extremism, 231 National Terrorism Threat Level, Itac and, 220 negative integration, 135–7 New American Century, 55–6 nexus, 152 Nielsen, Erik, 277n1 Nixon, President Richard, 321 no-fly lists, 23, 29n32 North America: 9/11 as missed opportunity, 342; absence of, post-9/11, 4–6; borders, thickening of, 40, 52, 60, 128; border security increased, 337; Canada’s battle to remain independent of US, 180; changes to, post-9/11, 336–8; changing threat realities, 283, 290; concepts of, 340–1; consensus on whether 9/11 changed it, 335; defence integration, 148n14; defence systems, 53–4; as dual bilateral arrangement, 6, 11n11; jihadi-centric threat narrative, 283, 292–3; regionalization of, 338; Security and Prosperity Partnership (spp ), 247–8; security mechanisms since 9/11, 246–8; security policy, Ventanilla Unica, 252, 255; what didn’t change post-9/11, 338–40; what is meant by, 4–5, 11n8 North American Air Defense Command (norad ): 9/11 attack and, 265–6; air defence, 265, 278nn7–9, 279n10; airspace

360

Index

focus of, 271; areas of responsibility, 267, 279n15, F268–9; before 9/11, 264–6; budget cuts reversed, 266; canus/na defence/security cooperation, 270–1, 280n21; cfacc and, 273, 274; China and, 274–5; Exercise vIgIlant guardIan , 265; faa radars upgraded, 266, 279n11; as functional solution, 276; homeland defence and, 274–5, 276; maritime warnings, 271, 272, 276; mission reorientation post-9/11, 263; modernization, 275, 277; Operation noBle eagle (one), 271, 276; post-9/11, 266–72; present-day, 276; radar blind during 9/11, 16; reconfiguration post-9/11, 337; Renewal Agreement (2006), 271; resource spending limited, 264; Russia and, 273, 281n25; spending on assets, 264, 277n2; Sunnibased terrorism threats, 271–2; taking fight to other countries, 6, 264, 278n5; tricommand structure, 279, 280n19; turns outward again, 273–7; ucp reconfigured, 266–7, 279n12; usnorthcom and, 57, 267, 270, 279n12, 280n18; usspacecom and, 267, 270 North American Free Trade Agreement (nafta ), 4, 147n8, 337; 9/11 caused rethink of, 35–6; 1994–2019, 44–6; Canada–Mexico show of solidarity, 44–5; cross-border frictions reducing, 147n8; cusma renegotiation and, 127–8; higher

border crossings and, 99–100; nafta+, 246; nafta 0.8, US got the best of, 144; nafta 2.0, 7; North American Idea and, 35–6; renaming, significance of, 338; renegotiation of, 44–5; trilateralism and, 35–6, 39; US goals re, 120; Zapatista Rebellion and, 37–8 North American Idea: 9/11 and demise of, 42; academic research into underfunded, 43; after 9/11, 35–50; decline of, post-9/11, 35–6; dhs and, 44; Trump’s populism and, 47. See also North American Free Trade Agreement (nafta ); trilateralism North American Idea, The (Macdonald), 83, 92n1 North American integration: 9/11 prompted serious consideration of, 40; 1994 as high-water mark of, 37; Canada and Mexico border accords, 40–1; Clarkson’s skepticism re, 38–9; competition from China, 118, T120; factors affecting, 118–22; growing US oil and gas production, 121–2; Pastor and Clarkson on, 37, 38–9; public resistance to globalization policies, 118. See also border frictions post-9/11 North American Security and Prosperity Partnership (spp ), 41–2, 139–40; demise of, 248; trilateral agreement, 247–8 North Atlantic Council, 20–1 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (nato ): defence measures supporting US, 21, 28n22; terrorism

Index awareness, 21; Washington Treaty Art. 5 invoked, 20–1, 28n22 North East Air Defense Sector (neads ): first call, 13, 27n2; second phone warning, 14; Washington aircraft, tracking, 15 Northeast Regional Homeland Directors Consortium, 202 North Tower (1 wtc ): collapse of, 15; plane crashes into, 13, 15 North Warning System (nws ), 54 Nossal, Kim Richard, 6, 8, 146 Obama, President Barack, 24, 45, 140, 183; denies Keystone pipeline permit, 143; dual bilateralism and, 140; failure to win support for tpp , 126; nonactivist foreign policy, 185 O’Connor, Gordon, 304 October Crisis, 232, 240n18 Operation noBle eagle , 56 Operation yellow rIBBon , 17 Operation yellow rIBBon (Canada), 7 Organization of American States (oas ), Quebec and, 201 O’Shaughnessy, General Terrence, 274–5 O’Toole, Erin, 76, 324 pandemic. See border closure 2020; Covid-19 pandemic Paquin, Jonathan, 4 Paris, Roland, 68, 70, 77, 177 Parti Québécois, 206, 212n28 passports, mandatory, 23 Pastor, Robert, 36–7, 46–7, 340; Toward a North American

361

Community, 38; The North American Idea, 92n1 Pathfinder, 276–7, 281n29 Patriot Act (US), 104 Payette, Jean-François, 9 Pearl Harbor, 9/11 comparisons to, 4, 7 Peña Nieto, Enrique, 251–3 Pennie, Lieutenant General Ken, 14, 15, 265, 270 Pentagon, Flight 77 hits, 14–15, 27n5 Permanent Joint Board on Defense (pjBd ), 90 Peso Crisis (1994), 38 pest (politicial, economic, social, and technological) analysis, 8 Pipeline Transit Treaty, 122 Pither, Kerry, 284 pluralistic society communities, 90, 94n21 populism: Donald Trump, 11n9, 36, 44, 47; Lopez Obrador, 253–4, 255 Posen, Barry, 185 positive integration, 135–7; push to, 137–41 Powell, Secretary of State Colin, 30n38, 56 Prairie West, as regional subculture, 178 prIsm, 299n41 protectionism, US, 143–9 Public Safety Act (Bill C-42), 105 Public Safety and Emergency Preparedness Canada (psepc ): creation by Martin government, 218; managerial role vs dhs , 222–3; now known as Public Safety Canada, 218

362

Index

Public Safety Canada: creation of, 218–19; operational remit of, 219; Terrorism List, 28n18 Quebec: 9/11 responses, 198, 199; agreements with some northern US states, 2003–7, 201; border security and, 208–9; Coalition Avenir Québec, migrants and refugee status, 203; cross-border security and, 203; francopol and, 202; Gérin–Lajoie Doctrine, 204; internationalization policy, securitization of, 198–200; international security agreements, 201–4; joint declaration with Bavaria, 201, 211n17; logic of its security policy, 204–6; maintaining cross-border trade flows post-9/11, 207–8; national identity and security concerns, 206– 9; new security threats, need to respond to, 205–6; participation in regional associations and initiatives, 201–2; public security policy, 197–213; public security terminology, 199, 210n10; publishes international policy, 198, 210n4; as regional subculture, 173, 178, 179; securitization/ internationalization processes since 9/11, 209; security, five components of, 2017 statement, 203; UN peacekeeping missions and, 202 Quebec’s International Policy, 2006, 199–204 Quebec’s International Policy Statement, re provincial–federal powers, 206

Quesada, Vicente Fox. See Fox, Vicente racialization of Mexican migrants, 102 Rae, Bob, 313 rcmp : challenges of, 237; investigating national security incidents, 229, 243n44; National Security Community Outreach Program, 233; national security policing role, 229, 232; police liaisons and information-sharing, 235 Reagan, President Ronald, 39, 321 rebordering, 101–2; 9/11 and, 100; Canadian practices post-9/11, 105–6; North America during Covid-19, 108–11; north and southern borders, post-9/11, 103; post-9/11 practices, 104–5; Trump administration and, 107; US southern border and, 102 Reform Party, 320 Regulatory Cooperation Council (rcc ), 149n21 Ressam, Ahmed, 86, 92–3nn7–8, 282–3; arrest of, 284–5 Rice, Condoleeza, 57 Ridge, Tom, 57, 58–9, 216 Roach, Kent, 222 Robertson, Secretary-General Lord, 20 Robinson, General Lori, 273–4 Rock, Alan, 17–18 Roosevelt, Franklin Delano, Kingston address, 1938, 88–9 Roussel, Stéphane, 8, 10, 146 Royal Canadian Navy, and usn , 271

Index Rumsfeld, Donald, 55, 267, 270, 307, 308 Russia: 9/11 response, 16; not Great Power challenger pre-9/11, 6; threats from, 273–4, 275 Safe Third Country Agreement (stca ), 106, 146 Sageman, Marc, 289 Sajjan, Harjit, anti-war protests and, 321 Scharpf, Fritz W., 135–6, 147n4 Scheer, Andrew, 76 Schengen Area, 337, 343n1 Secret Service (US), 16, 57–8 securitization, 198; Quebec’s international policy (qIp ), 198–200 Security and Prosperity Partnership (spp , 2006–9), 122. See also North American Security and Prosperity Partnership security communities, 171–2; North America, 184–5 Security Control of Air Traffic, 9/11, 16–17 security culture(s): Canadian, factors shaping, 176–7; domestic democracy, 185–7; formation of, 175–6, 191n25; multilateral internationalism of, 182–4; North American, Can-US bilateralism, 179–81; regional subcultures, 178–9; social change in Canada and US and, 171–96; structural friendship and, 175; US, as strategic culture, 177; whether common culture still exists, 187–9 Sending, Ole Jacob, 71 services trade, border closure 2020 and, 157–8

363

Shared Border Accord (Can-US, 1995), 137–8 sIedo (Mexico), 250 sleepers: 9/11 attack and, 282–3; implications of North American perception of, 291–5; misguided hunt for, 283, 290; North American fears of post-9/11, 285–6, 297n18; reality of threat of, 287–91; refugees as, 292; sting operations and, 291–2, 301n67; terrorist threats and, 295 Sliney, Ben, 15 Sloan, Elinor, 4 Smart Border Accord (Can-US), 23, 59, 106, 122 Smart Border Declaration, 138–9, 141 Snyder, Jack, 52 social values: Canadian vs. American 171, 174, 191n25; North American security culture and, 173–5; regional subcultures and, 173; theories on Can-US similarities and differences, 173. See also security culture(s) Sohn, Christophe, 101–2 Sondhaus, Lawrence, 52 Spaaij, Ramon, 289 Spavor, Michael, 127 spp. See North American Security and Prosperity Partnership stable peace theory: Kupchan, 90–1; North American pattern, 90–2 Stein, Janice Gross, 306, 308 Stephenson, Alan, 176 St John, Elizabeth, 10 Storer, Paul, 142

364

Index

strategic culture, 52–3 strategic default settings, 53 Sudan, harboured terrorists, 27n18 Sunni-based terrorism, 271–2 Support the Troops (s t t ) discourse: boosterism vs genuine debate, 319; citizen-plus narrative of, 327–8; debate over debt to veterans, 323–4, 325; “deservedness” narrative and, 322–3; military families, 326; other issues sidestepped by, 325; as political discourse, 321; privileges caf members, 330; societal and financial effects of, 327; stifles debate, 322; support for veterans as moral choice, 324; suppressed dissent, 330; US-style public militarism and, 321; veteran’s charitable sector, 325–8; yellow ribbons and, 321–2 Sûreté du Québec (sq ), 232, 235 systemic racism, Muslimization of terrorism and, 295 Tansill, Charles Callan, 89 Tenet, George, 285 terrorism: far-right, 294; jihadicentric threat narrative and, 283, 292–3; lone actors in West, 289– 90; models of shifted post-9/11, 290; Muslimization of, 283, 290, 292, 293, 295; myths re, 286; online propaganda, 289; sleeper threat, reality of, 287–91; Sunnibased, 271–2 terrorists, Ressam Effect and, 284–5 Three Amigos summit, 45 Timmerman, Kenneth R., 284

Tinbergen, Ian, 135, 136–7 Tobin, Brian, 17 torture, 291 Toward a North American Community: Lessons from the Old World for the New (Pastor), 38 trade and security, 116–33; border security concerns, 120–1; Canada’s integration into North American markets, 118, T119; Can-US bilateral initiatives re, 122; Chinese exports and, 119, T120; competitive liberalization, 125; competitive regionalism, 125; dual bilateralism, reversal to, 121; evolution of the international trading system, 125–8; external policies of major economic partners, 117–19, T119; factors affecting Canadian trade, 118–19; North American integration in the 2020s, 128–9; public backlash to trade liberalization, 119; threats to Can-US relations, 116–17; travel, within North America, 122–4; traveller security measures, 123–4, T124; twenty years after 9/11, 116–33; US oil and gas production, 121–7 Traficant, James, 85 Trail of a Terrorist (cBc documentary), 86, 93n9 Trans-Pacific Partnership (tpp ), negotiations (2012–18), 125, 126 travel: Canada’s “negative list” approach, 155; cross-border, 123–4; defined, 154–5; entry/exit

Index information sharing, 123–4; essential, defined, 155; fast and nexus programs, 152; mandatory passports, 23 Treaty of Rome, 136 trilateralism: cusma retreated from, 45–6; impediments to, 39–40; North American Security and Prosperity Partnership Plan, 41–2; spp , 139–40; US reluctance re, 39. See also North American Idea Trisko, Jessica N., 11n11 Trudeau, Prime Minister Justin, 294; liberal internationalism and, 70; no foreign policy review, 77 Trudeau, Prime Minister Pierre Elliott, attempt to reform Canada’s foreign policy, 73 Trudeau (Justin) government: 1977 bilateral Pipeline Transit Treaty, 122; bans Huawei, 127; Canadian trade with Asia and, 126; Covid-19 response, 109, 151, 153–4; as defenders of the caf, 321 Trudgen, Matthew, 8 True Patriot Love Foundation (tpl ), 326 Trump, President Donald, 71, 340; America First policies, 68, 185; anti-Islam/Muslim sentiments, 293; backlash to trade liberalization and, 119; border security priorities, 154; border wall, 244, 253, 337; Customs and Border Protection (cpB ) powers increased, 107; and death of North American Idea, 36;

365

Defense Production Act and respirator exports, 160; democratic erosion and, 186–7; Emergency Removal Operations (ero ), adds powers to, 107; increases powers of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (Ice ), 107; Keystone pipeline, support for, 143; nafta renegotiations, 144; presidency of precipitated by 9/11, 5; threat to withdraw from nafta, 44 Trump administration: asylum seekers, ban on, 110; border processes, 106–8; challenges to international trading system, 126–7; challenges to North American trade integration, 126–7; Chinese firms and Huawei ban, 127; did greatest harm to Canada’s national interests, 181; executive orders re immigration, deportation, enforcement policies, 107; nafta renegotiation, 126; separating children from parents, 24; toughening rules for tariff-free treatment, 45; trade concessions from South Korea, China, and Japan, 126–7; trade wars and, 126; Trans-Pacific Partnership negotiations, withdrawal from, 125, 126; US border anxiety and, 100; and wto dispute resolution, 126 United Airlines Flight 93, 3; crashes in Pennsylvania, 16 United Airlines Flight 175, 14 United Nations (UN), post-9/11 summit with Afghan leaders, 21

366

Index

United Nations (UN) Security Council: permanent members, 24, 30n37; resolution in support of US, 20, 28n20; terrorism-related resolutions, 28n19 United States: anti-terrorism initiatives, 24, 30n35; border policy dominated by security priorities, 154; border protection plans post-9/11, 23–4; Covid-19 export bans, 159–60; Covid-19 response, 109–10; defcon 3 declared, 16; defence systems, 53–6; democratic erosion since 9/11, 186–7; dhs , 43–4; as “end of history’, 264, 278n4; endurIng freedom , 20; energy policies hostile to Canadian interests, 143; focus on gwot , 56–7; homeland security and fBI , 57–8; intervention in WWI seen as historical burden, 89, 94n18; merchandise trade with Canada, China, and Mexico, T120; military sexual assault and harassment issues, 25, 30n40; multilateral internationalism and, 182–4; North American security, focus on, 51; oil and gas production, 121–2; opposition to imports from Canada, 121; Pathfinder information dominance, 276–7, 281n29; pivots to Middle East, 20; protectionism, 143–9; reaction to Canada’s refusal re Iraq, 307–8; reluctance re trilateralism, 39; security defence stance re Canada, 180–1; security trumped trade, 123; Smart Border Accord

with Canada, 59; social values, 174; trade law, national security provisions, 126; undisputed hegemon pre-9/11, 6; wanted border that facilitated commerce, 58 Uruguay Round, gatt , 37 USA Patriot Act, 24, 30n35, 56 US Border Patrol agency, 102 US Customs, Level 1 Alert, 138 US-Mexico Border Partnership Action Plan, 41 US National Counter-Terrorism Center (nctc ), 217 US Navy, and Royal Canadian Navy (rcn ), 271 US Northern Command (US northcom), 22, 29n28; creation of, 57; Tom Ridge and, 57; twin command with norad, 57 US Quadrennial Review (qdr ), commitments to norad reviewed, 267 USS Cole, 3, 20 US Unified Command Plan (ucp ), 22 us-vIsIt, 24 Vance, General Jonathan, 274 VanHerck, General Glen D., 275, 277 Ventanilla Unica, 252 veterans: benefits as sacred obligation, 324–5; citizenship-plus status of, 323; debate re stifled, 323; deservedness and charitable donations, 326–7; homelessness, 327– 30; Homes for Heroes Canada, 327–8; images of, 324; ptsd and (US), 328; women, 329

Index Veterans Affairs Canada (vac ), 325–6 vIgIlant guardIan, 14, 16 vIgIlant shIeld, 273, 281n25 Vincent, Patrice, 24 Von Hlatky, Stéfanie, 11n11 Walkom, Thomas, 69 Walter, Emily, 9, 100 Watt, Brigadier General Angus, 266 Weigley, Russell, 52 Weinberger, Caspar W., 277n1 Western Hemisphere Travel Initiative, 105 West Wing, The, 29n29 Whitaker, Roy, 286 white supremacist extremists, 283

367

Wilkins, David, 308 World Trade Center: North Tower hit (1 wtc ), 13; South Tower hit and collapse of, 15 World Trade Organization (wto ), 37, 50; dispute resolution mechanism and Trump administration, 126 Wray, Christopher, 294 Wright, Lawrence, 288, 290 Wright, Rob, comments on psepc role, 223 Zaccardelli, Giuliano, 18 Zehaf-Bibeau, Michael, 24 Zepeda, Salvador Cienfuegos, 254