28-Nov-2006: The State of Québec
The fuss in Canada this past week has been about the status of Québec within Canada. Québec is, as anyone who
has been there knows, a unique territory. It has its own style, its own history, its own attitude, its own legal system, its unique social and political outlook.
People who live there, whether Francophones, Anglophones, or immigrants from different countries of the world,
all share in this culture. Politicians would have us believe that there are two cultures: the English-speaking one and the French-speaking one,
but the reality is that almost all Québécois are bilingual, are comfortable with each other, and our proud of themselves and their province.
Anyone who has not been dead for the past forty years knows there is a strong nationalist movement in Québec. Actually,
Québec nationalism is as old as Jacques Cartier and Samuel de Champlain. After the British conquest, the inhabitants of Québec called
themselves Canadiens; the rest were Indians, British, Scottish, Irish, or—worst of all—Americans. Québécois were the original Canadians and are proud of it.
The French-speaking Canadiens who were expelled from Acadia and resettled in Louisiana, kept their national name: Canadiens, gradually
morphing it to Cajun.
Under the somewhat benevolent, or indifferent, British rule, French Canada turned inwards, devoted to church, family, and culture. Québec's awakening in the
early 1960's was part of the cultural revolution sweeping the western world—Québec was both a cause and a consequence. In 1965 I was part of a large
anti-nuclear weapons demonstration at a Bomarc missile defence station in a remote section of Québec called LaMacaza. We stood vigil outside the base for several days
before engaging in a sitdown demonstration blocking access to the military base. Most of us were from Toronto and Ottawa; all of us English-speakers. The townsfolk
would drive to the base to see these foreigners and wave, give peace signs and thumbs up, and some young men tried to impress the women in our group by singing the only
English they knew: "I wanna go home." We were radicals, hounded by the press, and sneered at by most Canadians as "peaceniks" or, better yet, "long-haired freaks,"
but these folks from rural Québec expressed a connection with us. Perhaps they too felt isolated and were searching for a new world order. Members of our group
held discussions in the evenings with a group of radical French-Canadian university students at a retreat in the area who were discussing the separation of Québec from Canada. Members
of that group came and sat with us on the asphalt for a few hours to express solidarity. We were all fighting the same English-speaking-controlled war industry in
Canada and the USA. Or, maybe we were just fighting the boss.
In the past forty years, Québec nationalism has been more aggressive. We know about the bombings of mailboxes (because they
had the royal seal on them) in the 1960's and the political murders of the early seventies. Most Canadians outside of Québec regarded
these events as isolated acts of extremists. Surprise, surprise when, in 1976, the voters of Québec elected a "separatist" government
under René Lévesque. Why? I think it was because Lévesque's party, the Parti Québécois, spoke the language of the alienated
and restless population, promising dignity and respect both from within and from without Québec.
Québec was snookered in the 1982 constitutional talks when the federal government (under Trudeau) signed an agreement
on the wording of the proposed new constitution of Canada with the premiers of nine other provinces, leaving Québec out in the cold.
Lévesque was livid and prophetically predicted that the consequences would be incalculable. What Québec wanted in those talks was
recognition—and they did not get it. Québec-bashing was—and still is in some places—a popular pastime outside
of Québec. "What does Québec want?" was the frequently repeated cry. However, not many seemed to want to hear the answer: Québec wanted
recognition for its unique place within confederation. The slogans, "mâitre chez nous" and "deux nations," should have been clear enough. Ideas such as "sovereignty-association" and
"devolution of federal powers" were tossed about. Twice Québec held referendums, asking for a mandate from the people to pursue the goal of independence. The second one
was barely defeated. And so the politicians struggled. Mulroney formed an alliance of convenience between Québec nationalists and western conservatives and reopened
the constitution to clarify Québec's role. The result was disastrous—Mulruney's old friend and right hand man, Lucien Bouchard, quit the Conservative Party
and formed a new federal political party, the Bloc Québécois, devoted to the cause of Québec's nationhood. The Bloc and the Parti Québécois are a major political force in
Québec.
In the spring of 2006, the Conservatives, under Stephen Harper, took power with a minority hold on parliament. That means that they have to find other parties to
support their bills. Sometimes they will get support from the Liberal, the New Democrats, or the Bloc. But their hold on power is tenuous. If the other three parties
vote against the government on a confidence motion (such as a budget or other major piece of legislation), the government will have to resign, parliament will be dissolved, and a new
election held.
Meanwhile, Harper's government is doing what it can to bolster support wherever it can find it. It adopted a more George W. Bush approach to issues; ie., catering to
conservatives by adopted "tough no-nonsense" stands on issues like Afghanistan and crime. (For a while they actually considered the debunked "three strikes, you're out"
approach; and they have been trying to pass mandatory sentencing acts.) They keep nattering about reopening the issue of gay marriage rights (which have already been
settled by the courts and confirmed by parliament.) However, such approaches do not go over well in the more left-leaning parts of the country—
especially in Québec which, since at least the 1960's, has a history of social progressiveness. It is part of the Québécois image that they are more progressive
in education, health care, human rights, and other issues than are the English-speaking provinces—and, indeed they are. At times they appear to have more in common
with the political attitudes in the New England states that border Québec than they do with much of Canada.
So, early this past week, the Bloc members of parliament, trying to exploit the unpopularity of the government policies in Québec, introduced an "Apple pie and Motherhood"
bill which called for the recognition of Québec as a state. It would have no force in law, but it put the other parties, and especially the Conservatives, in a damned-if-you-do
damned-if-you-don't position. Of course they want to curry favour in Québec; they need seats from Québec if they are ever going to form a majority government. If they
voted in favour of the motion, they would face outrage in the rest of Canada, especially in the west, where conservative support was strongest; and such a vote
could be seen as an endorsement of Québec's aspirations. To vote against it would result in a backlash in Québec where it would be played as yet another example
of the federal government failure to recognize and respect Québec.
What to do? What to do?
Harper introduced another motion in the house (which passed). This one recognized the "Québécois nation within a united Canada." The Bloc was initially furious at having their
thunder stolen, but, on reflection decided to support the bill (along with the other parties in the house). The trouble is, what, exactly, is the "Québécois nation?" Why
didn't Harper say, "The Québec nation?" Harper can say that he has appeased the Québec nationalists, while the Québec nationalists can claim that he
has done what no other federal leader has dared do: used the word nation in reference to (some part of, at least) Québec.
And, so goes the tempest in a teapot.
"Canada Recognizes Québec as a Nation," will scream one headline, while another will pronounce, "Harper Deals Fatal Blow to Separatists."
I want to end this with a personal observation. The first time I stood on the ramparts in Québec City, beside the Plains of Abraham, and looked downstream
along the St. Lawrence River (it is a spectacular view), I could imagine the sense of foreboding, defiance, and determination that a sentry would have felt when watching
those British warships tacking their way upriver against the prevailing winds. I have never felt so Canadian as I did at that moment.