Submitted by Charlotte Hobbs, MD, PhD
I’m writing with deep sadness about the growing rift between Canada and the United States — a divide that is no longer only about trade or foreign policy, but increasingly about values, language, and the use of moral authority in public life.
Recent events make this hard to ignore. On January 24, the March for Life drew tens of thousands to Washington, with political leaders invoking religious language to frame national policy. In contrast, Canada has had no criminal law governing abortion since the Supreme Court’s 1988 R. v. Morgentaler decision, leaving reproductive care regulated within the medical system rather than by the state. One day earlier, at the World Economic Forum, President Trump sharply criticized Canada following Prime Minister Mark Carney’s speech emphasizing democratic norms and pluralism, and subsequently rescinded Carney’s invitation to join a newly announced Trump-led “Board of Peace” — an unusually public signal of strain between long-standing allies.
From my vantage point as a Canadian living in the U.S. with deep family ties on both sides of the border, I’m struck by how the invocation of religion by American political leaders is being heard far beyond U.S. borders, often as exclusionary rather than unifying.
Hearing political leaders frame governance as a project to “bring God back,” to describe pluralism as “paganism,” and to selectively quote scripture in service of state power feels theologically misplaced and historically dangerous. This is not faith—it is proof-texting at a national level. The separation of church and state, a cornerstone of democratic life in both countries, is being crossed with troubling casualness
What concerns me most is the relative silence of theologians and religious scholars—across Christian, Jewish, and Muslim traditions. This is precisely where voices should be raised. If respected scholars of religion spoke clearly and collectively, perhaps much of this rhetoric could lose its moral cover. As someone with formal training in religious studies, I’ve seen how faith can be a source of moral humility—and how dangerous it becomes when scripture is selectively weaponized in the service of power.
I don’t fit neatly into political binaries, and I suspect many others don’t either. For example, I am not “pro-life” or “pro-choice”; I am attentive to individual circumstances, guided by thoughtful, ethical, and well-informed professionals working alongside families. I am neither for mass deportation nor for open borders without structure and compassion.
I name these positions not because they are unique, but because articulating them brings clarity in a polarized moment—and because doing so may open space for others who feel similarly unrepresented by absolutist frames. I believe pluralism, humility, and restraint in the use of power matter deeply, especially when invoking God’s name. If we are to bridge divisions rather than deepen them, we need places where complexity is allowed and moral certainty is held with care.
I share this in the hope that thoughtful reflection, rather than hardened posture, can still find a place in public conversation.
— Charlotte Hobbs, MD, PhD
A Canadian physician living in Coronado
