One could hear Canada's collective identity cracking this week when news broke that researchers had solid evidence that ice hockey, the country's national sport and favourite pastime, was in fact not made in Canada.

According to a forthcoming book co-written by Canadian historian Jean-Patrice Martel, extensive references to hockey in Britain led he and his fellow authors to conclude that the game was first played in the UK. To make matters even more bizarre, much of their evidence comes from the letters of Charles Darwin, in particular one that dates from 1853, in which he describes putting on skates to play "hocky" on an icy pond.

If people in other countries found out their national sport had been invented elsewhere, they might be able to simply shrug it off. But consider how fragile the Canadian identity is. We have what could be called a colonisation complex, given that in our initial form we were a British colony, and we are now, for all intents and purposes, an American one. New citizens must still pledge allegiance to the Queen (though some are challenging this in court), and our current Conservative government has been restoring Her Majesty's portraits in various government offices. Our TV programming is generally overwhelmed by Hollywood, where the budgets are bigger and the stars brighter. It means we have a strange perception of the world, as though we are peering through a one-way looking glass: we see everything Americans do, but they have little or no idea what goes on here or what we're about (aside from the hockey stereotype, of course).

Former prime minister Pierre Trudeau once likened existing in such close proximity to the American superpower as being "in bed with an elephant". This has led to a rather brutal little-sister complex: in order to truly make it big, most Canadians (consciously or not) recognise that doing so means fleeing to America or Britain, otherwise known as the Big Leagues. Just ask film-maker James Cameron (the Canadian behind Titanic and Avatar), actor Pamela Anderson, or crooner Paul Anka. It also means Canadians define themselves not by what we are, but what we are not – we are not British, we are not American, we have to keep reminding ourselves.

The book that packs this unholy revelation is titled On the Origins of Hockey, a clear nod to Darwin's evidence. This packs a double whammy for our government, whose most stalwart supporters are the Christian right. Prime Minister Stephen Harper punctuates all of his speeches with the words "God bless Canada" – a mash-up of religion and patriotism that is required in America but less expected here. That Darwin, the enemy of all creationists, is helping to knock Canada off its skates, makes it much worse. Imagine processing both of these concepts at once: there might not be a god after all, and we probably didn't invent hockey. Canada has already been called the existential state; now we are headed for an existential funk of Samuel Beckett proportions, like getting condemned to a penalty box with no exit.

As Canadians wipe away their tears and unravel themselves from the foetal position, we must work to overcome this trauma. As is normal in such situations, epically shocking events open up the imagination of disaster. What might we learn next? That igloos are a Siberian invention? That Leonard Cohen wasn't actually born here? That Toronto's mayor, Rob Ford, first smoked crack in Detroit? That poutine was actually concocted in a Belgian bistro?

While digesting this rather nasty bit of information, I suggest we consider inventing something entirely new, something we know is 100% pure Canadian: an Anne of Green Gables theme park; a franchise of William Shatner acting schools; a Celine Dion karaoke contest (these are already popular among gay Canadians).

Clearly, amid all the soul-searching, Canadians will also be required to engage in some deep, creative thinking.