The Davos Doctrine: A house of cards
The past week has demonstrated that the so-called Carney doctrine, for all its rhetorical elegance, may be a house of cards.
Consider the sequence of events.
Last Saturday, Prime Minister Mark Carney declared that Canada supported the United States in its strikes against Iran.
Two days later, in New Delhi, standing in for the prime minister — who had made himself unavailable to the media — Foreign Affairs Minister Anita Anand struck a noticeably different tone. She spoke of diplomacy, avoided the question of the legality of the strikes, and emphasized that Canada would not participate in military operations.
Tuesday, the prime minister returned to the spotlight, clarifying that Canada’s support had been given “reluctantly” and in a “limited” way — insisting it was not a “blank cheque” while calling on all parties to respect international law.
A day later, the position shifted again. Speaking in Canberra on Wednesday, Mr. Carney said Canada could not categorically rule out military participation should allies be threatened.
Five days. Four shifting positions. Each one subtly recalibrating the last.
The consequences of this shifting narrative are now being felt inside the government itself. On Friday, Liberal MPs held a caucus call with Minister Anand after several privately expressed concerns about the prime minister’s initial statement and its silence on international law.
How quickly the shine has come off the Davos doctrine.
Only weeks ago, Mr. Carney’s speech in Davos was widely praised as a bold attempt to redefine Canada’s place in a fractured world — and a roadmap for middle powers to follow. It not only won him international applause but also supercharged his political fortunes at home.
Unfortunately for Mr. Carney, the events of the past week suggest that the framework may be far more flimsy than originally advertised.
In that address, Mr. Carney argued that the old rules-based international order was giving way to a harsher era of great-power rivalry. Middle powers, he said, would have to adapt.
His answer was what he called “values-based realism.”
Canada, he suggested, would accept the realities of geopolitics while remaining anchored in core principles: respect for sovereignty, consistent standards for allies and adversaries, and limits on the use of force except within international law.
It was an elegant formulation — realism without cynicism, pragmatism without abandoning principles.
But the value of policies and doctrines should not be measured by the elegance of their framing. They should be assessed by the clarity of the light they cast on the pathways they are meant to illuminate.
And the events of the past week suggest that the Davos framework sheds very little light on the decisions it is supposed to guide.
In the wake of the Iran strikes, Canada endorsed the use of force by an ally without explaining how that action aligned with the principles invoked only weeks earlier. As political pressure mounted, the government adjusted its position — first emphasizing diplomacy, then stressing legal constraints, then raising the possibility of military support.
In Davos, Mr. Carney described Canada’s approach as one of “variable geometry” –– coalitions formed according to circumstances, interests and evolving realities.
The events of the past week suggest that for Mr. Carney, this variable geometry extends well beyond alliances.
The evidence is there. Confronted with its first real test, the Carney framework bent as events unfolded and tensions changed.
Defenders of the Davos doctrine will argue that this is simply realism at work. They will say that middle powers must navigate a world defined by shifting alliances and unpredictable crises.
This is true. And there is no doubt that the stakes are high.
But realism is a moving target. It shifts with circumstances, alliances and political cycles. Untethered from bedrock principles, it becomes little more than a justification for improvisation — a polite way of saying that policy will be adjusted as events dictate.
And when a country’s foreign policy becomes a series of never-ending recalibrations in response to shifting perceptions of the real world, the framework meant to guide decisions collapses.
Like a house of cards.