Open auditions to be America’s 51st state

As President-elect Donald Trump prepares to take the oath of office, Canada and the United Kingdom have emerged as the most likely candidates for an honor no one knew was up for grabs: the 51st state.

On paper, it might seem a ludicrous proposition. In practice, both nations — blessed with historic ties to the U.S., yet plagued by domestic dysfunction — appear poised to give it their best shot.

Canada’s political landscape has long been a study in polite decline. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s nearly decade-long tenure is finally coming to an end. It has been an exercise in performative politics, replete with international virtue-signaling and hollow domestic promises. His failure to meet NATO’s 2 percent GDP defense spending target and the ongoing debacle of defense procurement — most recently exemplified by the decision to purchase submarines few believe will ever see water — evince a nation more comfortable with the aesthetics of governance than with its mechanics.

But Trudeau is merely the most recent symptom of Canada’s broader malaise. His predecessors, from Stephen Harper’s studied inertia to Jean Chrétien’s parochial small-ball politics, all contributed to an erosion of Canadian ambition and capability.

Canada has sold itself on the myth of the middle power: a nation that punches above its weight in multilateral institutions while quietly deferring to larger allies like the U.S. The reality is more damning.

From its decayed military infrastructure to its nonexistent Arctic strategy, Canada has become a marginal player even in areas of vital national concern. Worse still, its political class is content with this mediocrity. Canadians, trained from birth to avoid rocking the boat, have collectively opted for a political culture that prioritizes consensus over competence.

Perhaps the most sobering metric of Canada’s decline is its economic standing. The per capita GDP of America’s poorest state, Mississippi, surpasses that of Canada as a whole. This fact alone should give any self-respecting middle power pause.

Yet this very mediocrity might make Canada an appealing 51st state. Its economy is already tightly integrated with that of the U.S. Its foreign policy aligns with Washington’s preferences by default. Its citizens — setting aside the odd quixotic Quebec separatist — share cultural affinities with their southern neighbors. Would statehood change much for a country already so dependent on the American leviathan? One suspects most Canadians might simply shrug and return to watching hockey.

If Canada’s bid for 51st statehood is rooted in quiet decline, Britain’s is steeped in noisy chaos. The British Empire once ruled a quarter of the globe; now it struggles to maintain basic governance at home.

The 2016 Brexit referendum was hailed as a reclamation of sovereignty, but eight years later, it looks more like the moment the U.K. decided to pull the pin on its own economic hand grenade. Growth has stagnated. Trade deficits have ballooned. London’s long-standing role as a financial hub is increasingly under threat.

Politically, the U.K. has been a carnival of incompetence. After 14 largely unimpressive years in power, the Conservative Party was swept out by Labour’s Keir Starmer, who offers little more than managerial competence dressed up as vision. Together, they represent a country whose leaders are as uninspired as its electorate is uninspired by them.

Starmer seems eager to reframe the U.K.’s relationship with both Europe and the U.S. But his efforts evoke less the grandeur of Churchillian diplomacy and more the desperate air of someone trying to hedge bets in a geopolitical game where Britain holds no high cards. The much-vaunted “special relationship” with the U.S. has been reduced to the diplomatic equivalent of swiping right and hoping for the best.

The U.K.’s economic struggles, like Canada’s, are starkly illustrated by comparisons to its potential new peers. Mississippi’s per capita GDP also exceeds that of Britain — a reminder that nostalgia for empire is no substitute for economic dynamism. Culturally, the U.K. retains its global soft power — who doesn’t love the Beatles and afternoon tea? — but this is a nation increasingly defined by nostalgia rather than innovation.

The British identity crisis is palpable: neither fully European nor fully Atlanticist, the U.K. has positioned itself as a “global Britain” with little evidence to back up the claim. Its Commonwealth ties are increasingly ceremonial, and its domestic fractures — from Scottish independence to Northern Ireland’s delicate peace — remain unresolved.

Despite this, the U.K.’s historical connection to the U.S. might give it a statehood edge over Canada. After all, American democracy owes its origins to British institutions. Would Americans resist making the U.K. their 51st state? Perhaps not, if the alternative is watching their closest ally fade further into irrelevance.

Under Trump, both nations face unique challenges. Canada, with its smug liberalism, has long been a punching bag for Trumpian rhetoric. Expect more demands for increased defense spending and more tariffs on Canadian exports. The “America First” agenda will further sideline Canada, whose leaders have spent decades avoiding tough decisions about national security and economic resilience.

For the U.K., Trump’s second term might provide a moment of opportunity. Despite his bombast, Trump admires strength — or at least the appearance of it — and the U.K.’s post-Brexit efforts to reassert itself on the world stage might resonate with his instincts. But admiration won’t pay the bills or fix the structural problems that plague Britain. A Trump administration laser-focused on China and the Indo-Pacific will have little patience for a flailing U.K. trying to reclaim its imperial swagger.

The idea of either Canada or the U.K. becoming America’s 51st state is, of course, absurd. Yet both nations’ trajectories make it a fitting metaphor for their current condition. Canada’s chronic inability to take itself seriously and the U.K.’s penchant for self-destruction have left them dependent on American goodwill for survival. Their political leaders have proven incapable of addressing the deep structural problems that threaten their countries’ futures.

Perhaps the true lesson here is that both nations, so often smugly critical of American excess and arrogance, might do well to focus on fixing their own houses before making any grand geopolitical claims.

After all, the U.S. already has 50 states — and all of them, frankly, are less of a mess than Canada or Britain.

Andrew Latham is a professor of international relations at Macalester College in Saint Paul, Minn., a senior fellow at the Institute for Peace and Diplomacy, and a non-resident fellow at Defense Priorities in Washington, D.C.