Last night the phrase ‘better together’ kept circling in my head. It isn’t a direct quote, but I think it’s the shorthand my mind keeps returning to after listening to Prime Minister Mark Carney’s New Year’s message; words that were simple, but anything but superficial. “We are strongest when we are united, when we look out for each other, and when we take care of each other. That is what makes Canada strong.”
He was speaking about our country. And he’s right. But better together, as I hear it, stretches beyond politics, and even beyond Canada itself. It speaks to something more fundamental. On how societies function when difference is not treated as a threat, and when disagreement does not automatically turn into hostility. Too often, better together gets misunderstood as better when we all think the same way, have the same politics, the same worldview and the same approved opinions. And that insulation has never helped a country navigate real strain.
If better together means anything at all, it means we do better when difference is allowed to exist without being weaponized. When debate doesn’t collapse into contempt. When conversation isn’t replaced by slogans, and disagreement is not mistaken for disloyalty.
That tension is everywhere right now, in Canada, in the United States, and very clearly in Alberta where polarization is no longer abstract but lived. Lines are drawn faster than questions are asked. Motives are assigned before words are heard.
We need to be honest. The divide we are struggling with did not simply appear on its own. It was widened, deliberately, by leaderships operating on the ideological fringes, particularly on the far right. Not by everyone who holds conservative values, because conservatism itself is not extremism, but by those who discovered that grievance, fear, and identity politics are powerful tools for mobilization. When a cut is shallow, it can heal on its own. When it is deep and wide, it requires careful stitching, and that work becomes harder when the blade is still in motion.
We see this in Alberta. We see it nationally. And we see it most starkly in the United States, where loyalty to personalities has replaced accountability to institutions. For many people caught in that orbit, walking away doesn’t feel like changing a political position, it feels like losing a community, a purpose, even an identity. Acknowledging this isn’t partisan. It’s honest. And honesty is the only place real unity can begin.
I’ve always tried to look at this country from a national perspective. That doesn’t mean ignoring regional realities; it means recognizing that Canada only works because it is built from differences. Geographic, cultural, economic, and political. Unity here has never meant sameness. It has meant commitment.
Something interesting many Canadians may not know is that the Northwest Territories and Nunavut operate under consensus government. There are no political parties in the legislature. Every decision requires discussion, compromise, and ultimately, consensus. That isn’t always easy. Years ago, when speaking with an MLA from the Northwest Territories we discussed the bad and the good of that system. It can be slow and requires patience. It demands listening, especially when agreement isn’t immediate. But it also forces something we’ve quietly lost elsewhere; the understanding that governing is shared work, and that no one gets everything they want.
Historically, Canada understood this. We’ve long occupied a more centrist political space, not because we lacked conviction, but because we valued stability and cohesion. The same was once true in the United States, where major policies were passed through cooperation rather than total ideological victory. That muscle has badly atrophied.
What’s striking is that Canadians still know how to do this. In 2025, when economic pressure mounted and cross border tensions sharpened, Canadians responded instinctively. We supported Canadian businesses. We bought local. We chose domestic alternatives when we could. Not because one political party told us to, but because we understood something basic: we look after each other when it matters. It was collective. Canadians who support all political parties have stepped up because we know we are better together.
So why does that instinct disappear the moment politics enters the room? Why have we convinced ourselves that cooperation is weakness, that listening is surrender, that acknowledging complexity somehow erases principle? The truth, uncomfortable as it may be, is that we accomplish great things together, and we unravel when division becomes our default setting.
As we step into a new year, I don’t expect sudden harmony. Democracy requires disagreement. But it also requires restraint, curiosity, and a shared commitment to something larger than winning the argument of the day. Better together doesn’t mean agreeing. It means staying at the table when it would be easier to walk away. It means arguing without dehumanizing. It means refusing to pretend that damage hasn’t been done and while still believing repair is possible.
If 2025 reminded us of anything, it’s that Canada’s strength has never come from uniformity. It has come from our imperfect, ongoing willingness to keep choosing one another anyway. Repair takes time. Unity takes effort. And neither happens by accident. Better together isn’t about agreement, it’s about choosing to keep showing up, even when it’s hard. That is truly nation building.
And as a new year begins, it’s work worth carrying forward even if the bridge doesn’t inspire immediate confidence, the other side isn’t fully visible, and standing still clearly isn’t doing us any favours. For my part, I’ll walk down the centre of the bridge, as I always have, not because the edges don’t exist, but because there I have always found my best footing.
Nancy's Notes 