In a trade war, can you shop your way to patriotism?

It’s official: The Canada-U.S. trade war has a dress code.

As we’re hit with tariffs and increasingly antagonistic rhetoric from south of the border, the “Canada Is Not for Sale” baseball caps and Lake Ontario-branded hoodies are proliferating, and keeping Canuck pride alive and healthy.

It makes sense. Most of us can’t negotiate trade agreements, retaliate against tariffs or do much at all about the decisions coming out of Washington. But we can buy Canadian strawberries instead of American ones. We can cancel a trip to New York. And, for approximately $30, we can throw on a sweater or hat that tells everyone exactly where we stand.

Yes, it may feel counterintuitive to shop for statement-wear during a time of rising costs, but there’s also no better time to buy local. Besides, sometimes the easiest (and laziest) way to resist is to buy something.

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“When people perceive a threat to an identity that matters to them, whether personal, social or national, they often look for ways to reaffirm that identity,” said Katherine White, a professor of marketing and behavioural science at the University of British Columbia. In other words, a cotton fleece with the words “Lake Ontario” printed across the chest from popular Toronto-based brand Province of Canada can transform something uncontrollable – such as tariffs and annexation rhetoric – into action. White added, “It converts a diffuse, anxiety-inducing threat into an immediate, tangible action we can actually control.”

While on paper that may seem kind of silly, there’s nothing unusual about expressing personal and political convictions through fashion or other goods, whether they be candles or bumper stickers. “We live in a consumer society, and so the link between buying and belonging is very strong,” said Melissa Aronczyk, a media studies professor at Rutgers University and author of 2013’s Branding the Nation: The Global Business of National Identity.

We routinely use products to tell other people – and ourselves – who we are, what we value and which side we’re on. Once upon a time, that could be as superficial as declaring oneself Team Angelina or Team Jen. Today’s political climate certainly carries more gravity, but the concept is relatively unchanged.

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That said, this is hardly the first time merchandise has been used to signal political allegiance. Lest we forget, not too long ago, bright red “Make America Great Again” hats transformed a campaign slogan into an instantly recognizable identity. Every Pride Month, brands roll out rainbow shirts, tote bags and sneakers, prompting recurring debates about whether selling the aesthetics of solidarity is the same as actually supporting a community. Nevertheless, nationalism, activism and consumer culture have become deeply intertwined.

Aronczyk traced that relationship back to the Second World War. On the home front, consumption became associated with patriotism, with governments encouraging people to think about purchasing power as a kind of political power, she said.

That doesn’t mean patriotic consumption is meaningless. Choosing Canadian-made or Canadian-owned products can redirect money toward local businesses and workers. Even a purely symbolic purchase, such as a slogan T-shirt, can communicate a norm, create a sense of collective identity and start important conversations. Plus, if the item generates funds for relevant organizations – Province of Canada is donating 15 per cent of each hoodie order to Indspire, an charity that invests in the education of First Nations, Inuit and Métis peoples – there can be an added impact.

Symbolic shopping has become so common that it has been dubbed “slacktivism,” a word that also describes supporting a cause through low-effort actions such as sharing a tweet or signing a petition. According to White’s research, these things can provide enough psychological satisfaction that someone may become less likely to take more meaningful action later on. This is especially true in the case of highly visible gestures, such as wearing a Canadian flag across your butt.

Still, the danger of political merch isn’t that it is necessarily hollow or performative. It’s that buying it can feel remarkably similar to having done something more. There’s an environmental contradiction, too. A garment proclaiming allegiance to Canada might still be made from imported materials, produced through an opaque global supply chain or poised to become one more thing we don’t really need. In fact, according to Aronczyk, one of the most powerful effects of branding is encouraging us to forget where products come from and how they’re made.

“‘Support local’ should not become a blanket moral exemption,” said White. “The issue arises when the Canadian label makes the entire purchase feel virtuous, even when its broader social or environmental footprint is mixed.”

That doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person if you choose to sport some Canadian swag. Political symbols can be funny, comforting and foster genuine connection. At a time when many Canadians feel they have little say over the forces reshaping the world order, wearing maple leaf-patterned pyjamas can be a small declaration: I’m here, and I care.

What it says about your taste, on the other hand? That’s another story.