Rebuilding Trust in a Time of Division: Lessons from Indigenous Wisdom
Trade wars are never just about trade. They are about relationships, about trust, about whether we are willing to see our neighbors as partners or as threats. Right now, the long-standing friendship between Canada and the United States is under strain, and many Canadians are feeling the weight of that tension. With economic uncertainty rising and political rhetoric growing harsher, it’s hard not to feel like something precious is unraveling. And yet, as we often remind listeners on Prepared to Drown, uncertainty does not mean hopelessness. In moments like these, it is more important than ever to ground ourselves in community and connection.
There’s something deeply personal about feeling like a trusted friend has turned away. Canada and the U.S. have shared generations of mutual support, collaboration, and a deep sense of kinship. We have stood together in times of crisis, wept together in moments of tragedy, and built economies that have, at their best, lifted up both nations. And now, it feels as if that trust is slipping away.
This isn’t just about tariffs or trade agreements. It’s about the stories we tell ourselves about who we are. Are we neighbors who look out for each other, or are we adversaries fighting for dominance? Are we committed to fairness, or do we give in to fear and protectionism? The choices made in the coming months will determine whether we move forward in a spirit of cooperation or let a relationship built over centuries crumble under the weight of division and hubris.
In January, we were privileged to have our guest speaker, Reverend Tony Snow, bring a different perspective to the conversation about Christian nationalism—one rooted in Indigenous traditions that have long understood the cyclical nature of history, power, and resilience. He reminded us that Indigenous communities have survived waves of upheaval before—colonialism, forced assimilation, stolen land, and broken treaties. And yet, survival was never just about endurance; it was about adaptation, about finding ways to hold onto identity and community even as the world around them changed.
Tony spoke of the teachings passed down through generations, the understanding that the land itself holds memory, wisdom, and continuity. When trust is broken, when systems fail, when leadership turns inward and hostile, the land remains. Indigenous knowledge teaches that when one path is closed, another must be found—one that is rooted in care, reciprocity, and long-term vision rather than short-term power plays.
What if, instead of seeing the current headlines as a battle between nations, we saw them as a moment to reimagine what our relationships could be? What if, instead of reacting with the same old responses—retaliation, nationalism, exclusion—we drew from the wisdom of those who have had to rebuild time and time again? What if we sought relationships based not on dominance, but on sustainability and equity?
Economic policies may seem like abstract matters, but their effects are deeply personal. When tariffs are imposed, jobs are lost. When relationships break down, people on both sides of the border suffer. When fear drives policy, the most vulnerable among us pay the highest price. Our podcast, month after month, has continually reflected on these struggles, emphasizing how economic injustice often disproportionately harms working-class and marginalized communities.
It’s easy to feel powerless in the face of these conflicts, to believe that ordinary people have no say in the way governments wield economic power. But history shows us otherwise. Relationships between nations are not just determined by politicians and policymakers; they are shaped by the values of the people who live within them. If we believe in fairness, in partnership, in the radical notion that cooperation is better than conflict, then we must live those values, even when those in power seem to have forgotten them.
Hope is not passive. It is not a vague wish that things will somehow get better. Hope is work. Hope is action. Hope is the daily decision to believe in something better and to live as though that better world is possible.
Tony Snow’s insights reminded us that hope is not simply optimism—it is resilience. It is remembering that we are part of a larger story, one that stretches back before the creation of modern borders and economies. Hope is knowing that we have choices, that we are not bound to repeat the patterns of conflict and exploitation that have come before us.
On Prepared to Drown, the conversation has often turned to the importance of connection. In these uncertain times, connection is what will hold us together. It’s the conversations between neighbors, the friendships that transcend borders, the communities that continue to work for justice and fairness, even when the odds seem stacked against them. It’s the belief that we are bound to one another in ways that no tariff or trade dispute can sever.
Throughout the discussion, there was a recognition that trust may feel fractured now, but trust can be rebuilt. It takes time. It takes effort. And it takes people who are willing to keep showing up for each other, even when the political climate makes it difficult.
It would be easy to respond to this moment with anger and resentment. It would be easy to harden our hearts, to retreat into defensiveness, to see the U.S. as an adversary rather than a friend who has lost their way. But the harder path—the better path—is the one that chooses to hold onto the values that have always defined the best of who we are: generosity, fairness, cooperation, and an unwavering commitment to justice.
This does not mean turning a blind eye to injustice. It does not mean pretending that everything is fine. It means refusing to let bitterness be the defining feature of our response. It means continuing to stand up for what is right, not out of spite, but out of a deep love for the kind of world we want to live in. It means continuing to believe in the possibility of healing and reconciliation, even when those things feel far away.
The path ahead is uncertain, and the tensions in this trade war will not be resolved overnight. But in the midst of all of this, we have a choice. We can choose fear, or we can choose connection. We can choose resentment, or we can choose to keep believing in the power of goodwill, even when it feels fragile.
What if we see these crises not as endings, but as openings? What if we turned to the wisdom of those who have survived generations of hardship—not just to endure, but to transform?
Our time together at Prepared to Drown reminds us time and time again, we are never alone in this struggle. There are countless people working for justice, for peace, for a world where economic policies serve people rather than the other way around. And as we navigate these difficult times, we hold onto the truth that even in the face of uncertainty, love will always find a way to - as the great Canadian psalmist sings - kick at the darkness until it bleeds daylight.