What Kind of AI Are We Talking About?

When people hear “artificial intelligence,” most think of chatbots—tools that write emails, answer trivia, or hold a conversation. But the AI behind Golden Dome is different: it’s built to solve real-world problems, not just generate text.

Think tools that coordinate emergency response, optimize cross-border logistics, and anticipate failures in military or transportation systems before they happen. This “systems-level AI” works behind the scenes, making infrastructure faster, more efficient, and—in theory—more resilient.

It’s also the kind of AI Carney needs to rebuild Canada’s economy—and Golden Dome could be a fast track to getting it. In sectors like energy, public safety, and defense, the tools on offer could help modernize systems that have long struggled with inefficiency and underinvestment. For a government determined to chart a new course, it might look like a godsend.

But there are good reasons to be cautious. As Conservative MP Shuvaloy Majumdar warns, much still needs to be “revealed about how the economic and security partnership with America and Canada will unfold.” The issue isn’t the technology—it’s how much say, if any, Canada will have in how it’s used. And that brings us to two key concerns.

The Double-Edged Sword

Some see the Dome as a double-edged sword: the benefits are real—but so are the risks. The deeper Canada integrates, the more it risks surrendering control over key AI systems to external actors—primarily U.S. tech and national security contractors.

Take the satellite layer at the heart of Golden Dome. On paper, it’s a breakthrough: hundreds of satellites in low Earth orbit scanning for threats, coordinating rapid response, and delivering early warning to national systems. In theory, Canada could gain round-the-clock access to advanced surveillance.

But under a proposal backed by SpaceX, the system wouldn’t be sold to governments—it would be offered as a subscription service. The infrastructure would remain U.S.-owned, the algorithms proprietary, and control offshore. Access could be subject to American security laws and commercial terms. As a result, Canada might detect a threat—but be unable to respond without permission or find itself locked into a system it can’t control or exit.

The Trojan Horse

Not every risk arrives with flashing lights and red flags. Some roll in quietly, like a gift chest you didn’t ask for. The danger of the Trojan Horse isn’t that it looks threatening—it’s that it doesn’t.

Golden Dome is being sold as a friendly upgrade: a chance for Canada to join forces with the U.S., access cutting-edge defense technology, and help build a shared North American AI infrastructure. But the deeper the integration, the greater the risk—especially for a government trying to reduce its dependence on foreign control.

Take Palantir, the U.S. firm tapped to provide core AI and data fusion software for Golden Dome. ItsMaven Smart System is now being deployed across NATO as a shared platform for targeting and battlefield coordination. It promises faster decisions, real-time intelligence sharing, and seamless command across allies. In theory, it eliminates hesitation, negotiation, and delay when every second counts.

But those benefits come with trade-offs. The system runs on Palantir’s platform, updated on its schedule, governed by software users don’t own or control. Is this also the model for Golden Dome? If so, Canada could be bound to rules it didn’t write, systems it can’t adjust, and software that updates on someone else’s terms.

This isn’t just technical. It’s political. The Trojan Horse doesn’t knock down the gates—it waits for you to roll it in yourself.

A New Dependence?

Disentangling Canada from its dependence on U.S. trade is central to Carney’s vision of national renewal. And to get there, Canada will need access to advanced AI tools and infrastructure. The Golden Dome could be a deep well from which to draw—but only if we’re clear-eyed about the risks.

As we’ve seen, the very systems that offer speed, intelligence, and protection also carry embedded dangers. Some risks are obvious—like the two-edged sword: the more powerful and integrated the platform becomes, the harder it is to control or to exit. Others are harder to see—like the Trojan Horse: systems that appear to help but slowly centralize control elsewhere. These aren’t abstract metaphors. They’re the operating logic of large-scale AI platforms.

And the real danger is where both roads lead: toward a new kind of dependency. For decades, Canada’s open trade relationship with the U.S.—especially through shared supply chains in the auto sector—left us vulnerable to political pressure and economic disruption. Today, we risk replacing that old dependence with a new one: reliance on foreign-controlled AI infrastructure. It may feel more modern, but the stakes are higher—and harder to see.

Still, Canada is not powerless. Our geography, institutional strength, and role in NORAD give us leverage—if we choose to use it well. We could:

 

• Build in protections to ensure critical systems remain under Canadian oversight and jurisdiction

 

• Insist on shared governance over updates, standards, and decision-making

 

• Invest in our own AI capacity to negotiate from strength—not to go it alone, but to retain options

 

Joining Golden Dome isn’t just a technology decision. It’s a sovereignty test. And it will be judged not by the strength of Carney’s convictions, but by how far Canada governs the system—rather than being governed by it.

Don Lenihan PhD is an expert in public engagement with a long-standing focus on how digital technologies are transforming societies, governments, and governance. This column appears weekly. To see earlier instalments in the series, click here.