Thus, Canadian media discussion of President Bush's official visit this week focused on the snub implied by his not having visited earlier. It's reported that when he does come, he will not speak to a Parliament that's so hostile it can't be trusted to receive him politely. Coverage of a Canadian athlete caught doping devolves into complaints about how Americans always get away with cheating. The "Blame Canada" song from the "South Park" movie is taken as documentary evidence of Americans' real attitudes toward this country. The ongoing U.S. ban on importing Canadian cattle (after a case of mad cow disease was traced to Alberta) is interpreted as a form of political persecution. A six o'clock news show introduces a group of parents and children who are convinced that the reason Canadian textbooks give short shrift to America's failed attempts to invade the Canadian territories in the War of 1812 is to avoid antagonizing the Americans — who are just waiting for an excuse to give it another try.

In the wake of 9/11, after the initial shock wore off, it was common to hear some Canadians voice the opinion that Americans had finally gotten what they deserved. The attacks were just desserts for years of interventionist U.S. foreign policy, the increasing inequality between the world's poorest nations and the wealthiest one on earth, and a generalized arrogance. I heard similar views expressed after Nov. 2, when Americans were perceived to have revealed their true selves and thus to "deserve" a second Bush term.

Canadians often use three metaphors to portray their relationship with the United States. They describe Canada as "sleeping with an elephant." Even when the elephant is at rest, they worry that it may suddenly roll over and crush them. They refer to the U.S.-Canadian border as "the longest one-way mirror in the world" — Canadians peer closely at Americans, trying to make sense of their every move, while the United States sees only its own reflection. Finally, they liken Canada to a gawky teenage girl with a hopeless crush on the handsome and popular boy next door. You know, the one who doesn't even know she exists.

The self-image conveyed in these metaphors is timid and accommodating. Perhaps this is how Canadians see themselves (or would like to be seen), but my experience is that they are extremely aggressive (if somewhat passively so) when it comes to demonstrating their deep ambivalence toward Americans. Take the popular TV show "Talking to Americans," which simultaneously showcases Americans' ignorance about Canada and mocks Canadians' unhealthy preoccupation with what Americans really think of them. Of course, there's often something of the stalker in that gawky teenage girl, isn't there?

Part of what's irksome about Canadian anti-Americanism and the obsession with the United States is that it seems so corrosive to Canada. Any country that defines itself through a negative ("Canada: We're not the United States") is doomed to an endless and repetitive cycle of hand-wringing and angst. For example, Canadians often point to their system of universal health care as the best example of what it means to be Canadian (because the United States doesn't provide it), but this means that any effort to adjust or reform that system (which is not perfect) precipitates a national identity crisis: To wit, instituting co-payments or private MRI clinics will make Canada too much like the United States.

The rush to make comparisons sometimes prevents meaningful examination of the very real problems that Canada faces. (For me, it has become the punch line of a private joke that whenever anything bad happens here, the first response is a chagrined cry of "But we're Canadian!" — the "not American" can be inferred.) As a Canadian social advocate once told me, when her compatriots look at their own societal problems, they are often satisfied once they can reassure themselves that they're better off than the United States. As long as there's still more homelessness, racism and income inequality to the south, Canadians can continue to rest easy in their moral superiority.

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Nora Jacobson is an American medical sociologist living in Toronto.