A couples therapy approach could help heal the divide. By Jared Wesley and Adam Galovan. There are few things more frustrating than loving someone who doesn't seem to love you back. Except, perhaps, being told that you don't love someone as much as they love you. That's the dynamic many Albertans feel they have with the rest of Canada, and vice versa. Most Albertans harbour a sense that the province is not treated fairly by the federal government, that it does not get its fair share of attention or support, that its contributions are taken for granted, that its complaints are dismissed and that its biggest desires are thwarted. Those feelings have declined noticeably since the 2025 federal election, particularly among New Democrats, but they remain a defining feature of Alberta politics heading into this month's referendum on separation. Some Albertans express this alienation as anger, others as quiet resignation. But many express it as something more complicated: a desire to be seen, understood and appreciated by the country they love. That is why the language of family and romance comes so easily to debates about Confederation. It reflects how many Albertans experience Canada — less as a contract among governments than as a relationship among provinces. In these ways, much of Alberta sees itself as the jilted lover of Confederation. From this perspective, Alberta has been loyal to the rest of the country. Alberta has worked hard to contribute to the family's prosperity, helping to power the national economy, fill the federal treasury and welcome Canadians here to build better lives. Yet when Alberta has needed something in return — another pipeline, a hand up when bad times hit, a little gratitude, a little room to move — it feels like Canada is unsupportive. At times, this feeling manifests as a belief in being taken for granted. This includes the sense that other family members are not pulling their own weight when it comes to economic development, preferring to rely on wealth distributed from west to east. In this way, Alberta's emotional identity has always contained a touch of martyrdom. Every region has its complaints. But Alberta has elevated grievance to the level of a civic religion. To grow up in Alberta is to absorb, almost by osmosis, a familiar litany of wrongs: the national energy program, equalization, pipeline delays, environmental regulation, Senate seats, federal indifference, Laurentian elitism. Federal governments have too often treated the province as a problem to be managed, a cash cow to be milked or a caricature to be mocked. Not all Albertans feel like the jilted lover of Confederation. Across the province and, yes, across the spectrum, most Albertans feel their province is undervalued in Confederation. Most. But not all. Other Albertans may not share the sentiment that Albertans are getting as raw a deal as their leaders contend. They may prefer to call Alberta the "problem child," "spoiled child" or "resentful son" of Confederation. But those judgments don't make the alienation any less mainstream. This grievance-based culture is attractive to far-right movements. It can be mobilized, monetized and weaponized by people who have an interest in sowing division. In these ways, separatist politics does not simply express Alberta's hurt. It amplifies it, hardens it and then offers departure as the only measure of self-respect. Based on this, the separatists' preferred metaphor is far darker. In speeches, memes, podcasts and comment threads, Alberta is cast explicitly as the abused spouse of Confederation. Alberta is exploited, battered, trapped and finally brave enough to escape. This is a grotesque analogy, not least because it borrows the language of intimate partner violence to describe being subject to federal environmental regulations. Nonetheless, the separatists' abuse metaphor transforms disappointment into danger, recasting federalism from a difficult relationship into a violent one. To be c...
