The 51st State? The Rights We Think We Have but Don’t

By Tom Marazzo

Recently, I had a thought-provoking conversation with my friend Jonathan—who also happens to be my boss. He’s been exploring the controversial idea that Canada should become the 51st state of the United States. His thesis is simple: we're already Americans—not in citizenship, but in culture.

It’s a bold claim. But it’s not without merit.

Canada became a country out of necessity. Our railway system wasn’t just about transportation—it was about binding distant provinces together under the promise of unity and mutual defense. That infrastructure, by the way, is already integrated with the United States. Our pipelines, power grids, and highways follow the same logic. If we were to apply the same reasoning that justified Confederation in 1867 to today’s world, the next logical step would be a merger—not with Britain, but with the United States.

But the real issue isn’t infrastructure. It’s identity.

Culturally, the roots of both countries are the same. Settlers came from the same European nations, bringing the same values, customs, and religious foundations. The U.S. began as thirteen disparate colonies—essentially thirteen separate countries—yet they united to form a constitutional republic. That would have seemed impossible at the time. And yet, it happened.

Canada, by contrast, clings to monarchy. We’re still part of the British Commonwealth. Our money still bears the face of Queen Elizabeth II, even though she’s passed. That image alone is a constant reminder: we are not truly sovereign. We have a Governor General, a King, and a Prime Minister who swears an oath not to the Canadian people or to the Constitution—but to “His Majesty King Charles III, his heirs and successors.” Then, he swears an Oath of Secrecy.

Let that sink in.

Meanwhile, the American President swears an oath to defend their Constitution. One system swears secrecy to a monarch; the other pledges public duty to a founding document.

That brings us to the heart of Jonathan’s argument: rights.
And this is where things get truly uncomfortable.

Canadians casually refer to “freedom of speech” or “unalienable rights” as if they’re guaranteed. But they’re not. The phrase unalienable rights—immortalized in the U.S. Declaration of Independence—doesn’t appear in Canada’s Constitution, Bill of Rights, or Charter of Rights and Freedoms. It doesn't even exist as a legal principle here.

In fact, our Charter has two built-in escape hatches for government power:

• Section 1 allows any right or freedom to be limited by law, if those limits are deemed “reasonable” and “justified in a free and democratic society.”

• Section 33, the Notwithstanding Clause, allows federal or provincial legislatures to override fundamental freedoms, legal rights, and equality rights for up to five years at a time—renewable indefinitely.

Translation: your rights can be suspended by the very people who claim to uphold them.

Americans don’t live under that kind of system. In the United States, constitutional rights are not something the government permits you to have. They are something the government is bound from infringing. There is no "reasonable limits" clause. There is no “notwithstanding” mechanism to bypass the Constitution. There is only the Constitution—and the courts, which interpret it.

And here’s the painful part: because American media, culture, and political language dominate Canadian life, many Canadians falsely believe they live under the same protections. They don’t. They believe they have freedom of speech. They believe the government cannot freeze their bank accounts without due process. They believe they have legal rights that are—in reality—conditional at best.

I know this firsthand. In 2022, my personal bank accounts were frozen by the federal government. No charges. No warrant. No conviction. Just executive fiat. This is the behavior of tyrants, not democratic institutions. And no court came to my defense.

Which brings us to another crucial difference: governance.

Canada is a constitutional monarchy with a parliamentary system, not a republic. We do not elect our Prime Minister the way Americans elect their President. The Prime Minister is the leader of the political party that holds the most seats in Parliament—not the head of state, and not even necessarily an elected MP at first.

Our current Prime Minister, Mark Carney, was originally appointed by his party to lead—not elected by the general public. Canadians voted for local Members of Parliament, and those MPs installed him. This is a system that prioritizes parties and party loyalty—not citizens and constitutional accountability.

In the American republic the President is elected through a nationwide vote that determines state-level electors in the Electoral College. While not a direct popular vote in the strictest sense, the American people choose their head of government—and head of state—through a transparent national process. The President serves as both head of state and government and is bound by a Constitution that limits executive power.

Canadians are told we live in a democracy, but what we really live in is a monarchy-run party system. It's not power of the people. It's power over the people.

And here’s something most Canadians don’t realize: elected officials in Canada cannot be sued for decisions or actions taken in their official roles. This is due to parliamentary privilege and Crown immunity. Whether it’s a federal minister making policy, or a Prime Minister overseeing government action, they are shielded from civil lawsuits by law.

For example, when the federal government froze bank accounts during the Emergencies Act in 2022, no elected official could be held personally accountable through the courts, even if the act violated Charter rights or banking laws. You can’t sue them. You can’t remove them. And if you're harmed by their actions, your only recourse is political—not legal.

Contrast that with the United States:
There, the President and members of Congress can be sued—if their actions fall outside the scope of their official duties. Presidents have absolute immunity for official acts, but not for personal ones. Congress has constitutional protections for speeches and votes—but not for campaign fraud, defamation, or misconduct outside legislative work. Their immunity is limited and specific, not blanket and permanent.

So are we truly sovereign citizens?

No. We are serfs who have confused conditioning with liberty. We are managed, not empowered. Governed, not represented. Told we are free, while every major institution reminds us that we are not.

This article isn’t an argument for annexation. It’s a warning. We need to stop pretending we have the same rights as Americans. We don’t. And until we’re honest about that fact, we’ll never truly have a conversation about what kind of country Canada could become.

But here's a question worth asking:
If the United States offered us their Constitution tomorrow—unalienable rights and all—wouldn’t it be an upgrade?