I would like to reassure Canadians they keep guns away from me
At a NATO summit in Turkey, a personalized .357-calibre pistol passed from one head of state to another — and then, quietly, into the custody of Canadian law. Prime Minister Mark Carney, who learned of the gift not from its arrival but from a conversation with a British counterpart, surrendered the engraved firearm to the RCMP, where it was decommissioned in accordance with Canadian law. The episode, small in consequence but rich in texture, reminds us that diplomacy's oldest rituals — the exchange of gifts between leaders — can still collide unexpectedly with the domestic realities each leader returns home to carry.
- A .357-calibre pistol engraved with a prime minister's name arrived in Canada and immediately ran into a legal wall — the model is simply prohibited under Canadian firearms law.
- Carney didn't even see the weapon when it came; he discovered he owned a gun only after UK Prime Minister Starmer publicly revealed Erdogan had handed similar personalized firearms to multiple NATO leaders.
- The gap between gifts was not lost on Carney — he had offered Erdogan maple syrup, while Erdogan had offered him a handgun, a mismatch he acknowledged with dry, self-deprecating humour.
- The government moved swiftly and without drama: the pistol was transferred to the RCMP and decommissioned, the ammunition never left Turkey, and the prime minister suggested the weapon may one day rest in a military museum.
Standing before reporters in Saudi Arabia on Thursday, Prime Minister Mark Carney confirmed an unusual diplomatic footnote: the engraved .357-calibre pistol he received from Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan at a NATO summit had been decommissioned and handed to the RCMP. "I would like to reassure Canadians they keep guns away from me," he said, with a tone of mild bemusement.
Carney had not actually seen the pistol when it arrived. He learned of its existence only after a conversation with outgoing British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, who had disclosed that Erdogan distributed similar personalized firearms to multiple NATO leaders — each one engraved with the recipient's name. Carney noted the asymmetry with self-aware humour: his own gift to Erdogan had been a bottle of maple syrup. "It struck me that my gift of maple syrup kind of undermatched the, whatever it was, .357-calibre," he said.
The legal path forward was never in question. The pistol model is prohibited under Canadian law, and Carney holds no firearms licence. The weapon was transferred to the RCMP and decommissioned; the ammunition, meanwhile, never left Ankara. Carney suggested the firearm might eventually be donated to a Canadian military museum — a way of preserving the diplomatic curiosity without complicating anyone's safety.
The episode unfolded against a larger backdrop. Carney had been in Turkey for the NATO summit, where he met with German and Norwegian counterparts to discuss Canada's planned acquisition of up to twelve submarines from German manufacturer TKMS — a deal potentially worth $24 billion. By Thursday he was in Saudi Arabia, with a return to Ottawa scheduled for Friday, carrying the memory of an alliance summit where the tokens of partnership ranged from billion-dollar defence contracts to a pistol that Canadian law would not permit him to keep.
Prime Minister Mark Carney stood before reporters in Saudi Arabia on Thursday and confirmed what had become an unusual diplomatic footnote: the personalized pistol he received from Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan during a NATO summit had been decommissioned and handed over to the RCMP. The gun, a .357-calibre firearm engraved with Carney's name, was never in his possession for long, and he made clear the Canadian government takes a straightforward view of such matters. "I would like to reassure Canadians they keep guns away from me," he said, his tone suggesting both reassurance and mild bemusement at the situation.
The gift itself caught Carney off guard, though not in the way one might expect. He did not actually see the pistol when it arrived—he learned of it only after a conversation with outgoing British Prime Minister Keir Starmer, who had publicly disclosed that Erdogan had distributed similar engraved firearms to NATO leaders as diplomatic gifts. Each weapon bore the recipient's name. Carney's response to the revelation carried a note of self-aware humor. He noted that his own gift to Erdogan—a bottle of maple syrup—seemed to have fallen somewhat short in the exchange. "It struck me that my gift of maple syrup kind of undermatched the, whatever it was, .357-calibre," he said with a laugh.
The legal reality was straightforward: the model of pistol Erdogan selected is not permitted under Canadian firearms law. Carney, unsurprisingly, does not hold a firearm licence. Rather than navigate the complications, the government moved quickly. The weapon was transferred to the RCMP, where it has been decommissioned. The accompanying ammunition, however, never left Turkey—it remained in Ankara when Carney departed for Saudi Arabia on Wednesday evening.
Carney suggested the decommissioned firearm could eventually find a home in a Canadian military museum, a fate that would at least preserve the diplomatic oddity for historical purposes. The prime minister framed the gift itself as "interesting" and noted it related to NATO, the alliance context in which it was given. But the substance of his message was clear: Canada's approach to such matters is pragmatic and bound by law, regardless of the diplomatic niceties involved.
The prime minister was in the region as part of a multi-day tour that had begun with the NATO summit in Turkey. There, he had met with German Chancellor Friedrich Merz and Norwegian Prime Minister Gahr Store to discuss Canada's newly announced submarine acquisition—a deal to purchase up to twelve vessels from German manufacturer TKMS, with an estimated cost reaching as much as $24 billion before accounting for maintenance and operations. The submarine models themselves had been present at those meetings, a tangible reminder of the defence commitments being discussed. By Thursday, Carney had moved on to Saudi Arabia, with plans to return to Ottawa on Friday morning, leaving behind both the diplomatic gift and the broader questions about how nations exchange tokens of alliance in an era when such tokens sometimes arrive in forms that complicate rather than smooth relations.
Notable Quotes
My gift of maple syrup kind of undermatched the .357-calibre— Prime Minister Mark Carney, on the disparity between his gift to Erdogan and the pistol he received
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
When did Carney first realize he'd been given a gun?
He didn't know until Keir Starmer told him. Starmer had already gone public about the fact that Erdogan was handing out personalized pistols to NATO leaders, so that's when Carney found out he'd received one too.
Why didn't he just keep it as a diplomatic gift?
Because it's illegal in Canada. The model Erdogan chose isn't permitted under Canadian firearms law, and Carney doesn't have a licence. There's no grey area there—the law is the law, even for prime ministers.
Did the ammunition come with him to Canada?
No. The ammunition stayed in Turkey. Only the gun itself made the journey, and it went straight to the RCMP to be decommissioned.
What's the tone here? Is this embarrassing for Carney?
Not really. He handled it with humour—made a joke about his maple syrup gift being outmatched by a .357-calibre. It's more of a diplomatic oddity than a scandal. He was transparent about it, and the government acted properly.
Could there be tension with Turkey over this?
Unlikely. Erdogan gave the same guns to other NATO leaders, so this wasn't personal. It's just how he chose to mark the occasion. Carney's response—following the law—is exactly what you'd expect any government to do.
What happens to the gun now?
Carney suggested it might go to a Canadian military museum. It's decommissioned, so it's no longer functional. It becomes a historical artifact instead of a weapon.