SCARBOROUGH, ONT.—There is a great deal of fanciful thinking that, after the American midterm elections this fall, the Democrats will regain the House—perhaps even the Senate—and that the United States will somehow return to normal.

One might wish that to be true, but wishing is not a basis for foreign policy.

On one of our many trips to the United States with the Canada-U.S. Parliamentary Group when I was an MP, we met with a Democratic congressman. The conversation turned to the hold that MAGA had (and continues to have) over Republican members of Congress, something that many Canadians find both perplexing and alarming.

He told us that, after years of conversations with his Republican colleagues, he had come to divide them into three categories. The first were the true believers. The second were those who were simply going along to get along. The third category consisted of members who had either been physically intimidated, or whose families had been threatened. This congressman added that the third group was far larger than we might imagine.

The meeting was sobering.

Later that same day, we received a practical demonstration of what he meant. We were scheduled to meet with a long-serving congressman whom we had previously regarded as a friend of Canada. He had been an active participant in the Canada-U.S. Parliamentary Group, and had visited this country frequently.

Before meeting us, however, he had delivered a speech on the floor of the House that was sharply critical of Canada. He declared that he intended to tell our delegation that Canada needed to do better.

When we arrived at his office, the atmosphere was noticeably tense. On defence spending, he actually had a point. On several other issues, however, he was badly offside, both in his speech and in our discussion.

The transformation was striking. This was not the congressman we had once known.

Only later in the meeting did the explanation emerge. Despite his long service and generally moderate disposition, the politician was facing a primary challenge because he was not considered sufficiently MAGA. Defending himself would require three months of campaigning and roughly $750,000 simply to fend off the challenger. Winning the general election would cost another $2-million.

He succeeded. As far as I know, however, he has never voted against the Republican leadership since.

Many people hope that a future Congress will reassert its constitutional role as a check on executive power. Yet, even a decisive electoral shift would leave a substantial number of MAGA true believers, semi-believers, and fearful believers in office. That does not bode well for a return to congressional independence anytime soon.

I do not know who contributed to my acquaintance’s campaign, but raising $2.75-million in less than a year seems like an extraordinary amount of money. It is a reasonable assumption that at least some of those contributions came with implicit or explicit expectations. Very little political money is donated purely out of civic virtue.

Which raises a fundamental question: whose democracy is it, anyway: the voters’ or the donors’?

In America, it increasingly appears to be the donors’.

A U.S. Senate campaign routinely costs between $10-million and $20-million, while competitive races can easily exceed $50-million and often approach $100-million. Winning a congressional seat generally costs between $2-million and $10-million, not including the expense of primary contests.

As a result, elected officials spend an extraordinary amount of their time fundraising. In private conversations, both senators and representatives admit that they dislike it, even if some have become very good at it.

Money does not appear from nowhere. Candidates must constantly cultivate donors, make commitments, and maintain relationships with those capable of financing campaigns. Inevitably, this creates incentives that are not always aligned with the interests of ordinary voters.

Consider the Gordie Howe International Bridge. It is a remarkable engineering achievement, financed entirely by Canada, and clearly in the interests of both countries and their citizens, with one notable exception: the owners of the competing Ambassador Bridge.

At the 11th hour, U.S. President Donald Trump reportedly suggested that the bridge might not be permitted to open unless certain demands were met. However, news reports subsequently suggested that it will open shortly. Prime Minister Mark Carney was left in the awkward position of reassuring Canadians that no additional concessions or considerations had been given to secure the bridge’ opening. The political contributions made by the Moroun family, owners of the Ambassador Bridge, to the president and other political actors would make for very interesting reading.

Many Canadians fervently hope that the next midterm elections will return the U.S. to a state of political normalcy. That would certainly be welcome.

It would also be naive.

There is simply too much money, too much fear, and too much potential for political retribution embedded in the system to expect a rapid correction.

From our side of the border, we are left to watch as the American republic struggles with deepening dysfunction. The open self dealing that has characterized parts of the Trump administration, coupled with Congress’ persistent refusal to prohibit insider stock trading by its own members, does not inspire confidence in institutional renewal.

Some believe the U.S. will pull itself out of its current morass after the midterms.

Perhaps.

But hope is not a strategy.

The prime minister is right to reduce Canada’s dependence on the U.S. as quickly as possible.

If anything, he cannot move quickly enough.

John McKay is the former Liberal Member of Parliament for Scarborough–Guildwood, Ont., and was the Canadian co-chair of the Canada-U.S. Inter-Parliamentary Group. He co-chaired the Permanent Joint Board on Defence for seven years. He was an MP for 27 years, from 1997 to 2025, and is now a senior associate at David Pratt & Associates.

The Hill Times