“All Quebec on the march to live in French” in 1989.
“I remember” on every numberplate.
Beware of the language police!
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The
birth of 101
Before Bill
101, Quebec residents had the right to send their children to either French or English-speaking
public schools, which owing to a twist in history were generally organized along
religious lines. Back in 1867 when the Canadian confederation first emerged, Quebec
had two major ethnic groups: French Catholics and British Protestants. Each group
formed their own set of schools within the public system. But by the end of the 19th
century, a new immigrant group settled in Montreal and confounded the clean division:
the Irish Catholics. The compromise permitting the Irish to attend English schools
set an important precedent. Since then, nearly every immigrant group, from Catholic
Poles to Italians, has gone through English schools. Even francophone groups, like
Moroccan Jews, were sent (by officials) to English classrooms to avoid the Catechism
of the French system.
This arrangement suited French Canadians, who didn’t want non-native French-speakers
enrolling in their schools. But this tolerance lasted only so long as the French-Canadian
birth rate remained high. It quickly faded during the Quiet Revolution when French
Quebeckers began breaking free from the strict confines of traditional Catholic society.
The new generation moved into the cities, focusing on improving their financial lot
rather than settling down to raise large families in the countryside. At precisely
the time when French family-size declined, immigration surged, particularly among
Italians.
As English schools mushroomed in Montreal, the nationalist movement calling for Quebec
independence emerged as a credible and powerful political force. These nationalists
demanded measures to “correct” the linguistic and demographic imbalance reflected
in the school system. A compromise was sought in 1968 with a law favouring French
language instruction. But the nationalists were not satisfied. They wanted all children
to attend French schools.
Two years later, French became the official language of Quebec but tensions continued
to simmer until a full-fledged language war erupted in 1976, when the new separatist
Parti Québécois, founded and led by the charismatic leader René
Lévesque, won the provincial election. A year later, the nationalists passed
Bill 101, a milestone in Quebec’s language debate.
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The
laws that forced French into the schools and workplace of Quebec have worked far
better than anyone imagined. Trilingualism is gaining ground in the province, much
to the chagrin of hard-line nationalists
With her rugged natural
beauty and charming accent, Quebec shines as an emblem of cultural resolve in countries
with strong minorities, ranging from Spain to Nigeria. The little francophone island
thrives in a sea of English-speakers*, thanks to its carefully constructed rampart
of laws and educational policies promoting French. But Canada’s “Belle Province”
is set to change course: a new government inquiry has found that it’s time to roll
back the legal locomotive, Bill 101, which has forced French into the school system
and workplace for the past 30 years.
All children must attend French elementary or high schools, according to Bill 101
(also known as the French Language Charter), with one exception: old-time Quebeckers
who attended the province’s English elementary schools can choose their children’s
language of instruction. French is the rule, however, for all newcomers, from Canada
or beyond, until the college or university level.
Born in 1977, Bill 101 is the brainchild of Quebec’s nationalist movement whose ultimate
goal has been to separate from the rest of Canada, or at least seek greater autonomy
within the federation (see
box).
The law stems back to the heady days of the Quiet Revolution, when French Quebeckers
(the “Québécois”) wrested control of the province from a powerful English
elite, who controlled its huge natural wealth. Then they turned to the cultural landscape,
using laws like Bill 101 to “Frenchify” (or “francify”) the schools and workplace
as well as the commercial environment through rules restricting the use of English
on public signs or even on the beer coasters of a neighbourhood bar. Language police
still roam the streets, measuring the letters of billboards to ensure that “Poulet-frit”
dominates the fast-food world of “fried chicken,” for example. The provincial government
regularly adds a fresh coat of legislative paint to reinforce the spirit of 101.
With each major brushstroke another wave of English Quebeckers migrates to other
parts of Canada or the U.S.
When
the “natives” feel outnumbered
Today
the old-stock of English Quebeckers accounts for just 8.5 percent of the population,
down from 13 percent in 1971. Yet according to the nationalists, the anglophone threat
has not faded but taken on new dimensions, thanks to the “allophones,” a nice way
of referring to immigrants whose first language is not French. Every year, about
25,000 to 35,000 immigrants arrive mostly from Latin America, the Middle and Far
East. Together the two minorities—anglophone and allophone—comprise 18 percent of
the provincial population. The pure wool Québécois still make up about
82 percent of the population, despite having one of the lowest birth rates in the
world. But many of these “natives” are convinced that they will soon become a minority
in their financial capital, Montreal, where most minority communities settle. According
to a survey conducted last year by the daily Le Devoir, 55 percent of all Quebeckers
are convinced that French is in danger throughout the province.
So with alarm bells ringing, the provincial government launched an inquiry last year
asking “what should Quebec do to ensure the future of the French language?” This
kind of inquiry, known as the language estates-general, is somewhat of a ritual.
Each time the provincial government pushes for a referendum on separating from the
rest of Canada (see
box),
they turn up the heat on the language debate by pointing to the lamentable state
of French. But after spending more than two million Canadian dollars on a string
of public hearings across the province, the nationalists got far more than they bargained
for. According to the preliminary report released on June 5, French has never been
healthier in the “Belle Province.” “The French language is no longer the property
of the majority. It has become the language of everyone,” announced the head of the
estates-general, Gérald Larose, a former union leader and long-time Quebec
separatist. Almost 95 percent of Quebec residents know and use French in their daily
activities, up seven percent in just over a decade.
More than 90 percent of the province’s newly arriving pupils are heading straight
for French schools, according to Quebec’s education ministry. Then again, their only
alternative is to enroll in the private sector. But Bill 101 cannot force these kids
to speak French outside of the classroom, yet many continue to babble and scream
the language in the school-yards and playgrounds even in Montreal, where immigrants
make up almost half of the French school population.
Even the old-time minorities—anglo- and allophones born and bred in Quebec—have adopted
the spirit of 101. These parents could legally send their kids to English schools,
yet about 75 percent opt for the French sector. There is one notable exception: the
Italians, one of the largest and most established of Quebec’s cultural communities.
The majority continue with English schools. Instead of rejecting bilingualism, these
families are embracing three languages at once. Franco-Italian marriage rates increase
each year. Love, not
coercion, is winning this community over to French.
The trilingual allure has also won over hearts in the estates-general. While the
final recommendations aren’t expected before August, the Larose commission dropped
a bombshell on June 5: the anglo- and allophone communities are no longer enemies
but role models. “The old English-French antagonism in Quebec has been at least a
little bit blurred and softened. And maybe a lot,” announced Larose, before laying
out a plan to not only promote French but English. Instead of reinforcing Bill 101,
as many hard-liners expected, the commission suggested partially dismantling it by,
for example, abolishing the language police.
Time
to learn English?
According
to the Larose commission, Quebec needs a new charter or constitution to officially
recognize French as the province’s language of citizenship. Yet, it continued, English
also merits respect as the language of Quebec’s official “national minority.” Anglophones
would have guaranteed access to judicial services, health care, social assistance
programmes and education. “We’re trying to say to the anglophone community that your
place in this society is recognized, that your future is assured,” said one of the
11 commission members, Dermod Travis, president of the non-governmental Forum Action
Quebec, which aims to promote dialogue among all Quebeckers.
Perhaps the ultimate irony lies in the recommendation that French pupils improve
their English. As it stands now, children attending English schools must learn French
from the first grade. Yet francophone pupils wait until the fifth grade before taking
English classes, which tend to be of rather poor quality. As a result, only about
38 percent of French Quebeckers are bilingual. It’s as if they have been lulled into
complacency, convinced that in the land of 101, English isn’t necessary to earn a
living. But not only do their job prospects plummet the moment they step outside
of Quebec, but the competition is already heating up within as bilingual and trilingual
allophones grow in number.
“Blasphemy!” cry the hard-liners of the nationalist Parti Québécois.
The state of French remains “precarious” because there are still too many people
who speak English in the privacy of their homes. Immigrants may use French in the
workplace or at school but, say the hawks, switch immediately into English at home
or when socializing. For these hard-liners, integration amounts to assimilation and
anything less than that is treason.
If the father of Bill 101, Camille Laurin, wanted to mould newcomers into good neo-Québécois,
the result is disappointing. The Bill 101 generation learns to speak French, but
still keeps an open mind towards North American culture, while holding on to its
own maternal language and values. These young people and their parents generally
accept the principle of French dominance in Quebec. It is now time for the Québécois
to assume their role as a well-established and respected majority, not a threatened
minority. The white, French-stock, Catholic paradigm has been shattered and replaced
by a multiracial, multireligious and multilingual one. It is time for less coercion
and more incentives.
* Quebeckers
represent a quarter of the Canadian population (29.5 million).
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The
Canadian divide
Quebec’s language
debate stretches beyond its provincial boundaries to touch the core of Canadian identity
and unity. For the past 30 years, Canada’s ten provinces have tried to amend their
constitution to resolve the conflict between a federalist vision of the country and
Quebec’s demands for greater sovereignty.
The debate stems back to 1971, when the Québécois nationalist movement
first threatened to separate from the rest of Canada, leaving a gaping hole in the
middle of the confederation. Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau, (a French Quebecker),
proposed the vision of an officially bilingual and multicultural country, with a
strong federal government and ten equal provinces. Separatists like René Lévesque
rejected the concept and launched the notion of a political sovereign Quebec, economically
“associated” with the rest of Canada.
Lévesque presented this proposition in a referendum that the people of Quebec
rejected in 1980. A second referendum was organized in 1995 by Jacques Parizeau,
the provincial premier and leader of the Parti Québécois (PQ). Once
again, the proposal was rejected but this time by a slim one percent margin. Parizeau
attributed the loss to “money and the ethnic vote,” a comment widely interpreted
as a xenophobic and anti-Semitic allusion to Montreal’s minority communities. The
scandal forced Parizeau to resign.
In 1996, a more conciliatory leader, Lucien Bouchard, took control of the PQ and
the seat of the premier. While open to negotiations with the federal government,
Bouchard still tried to satisfy the hard-liners of his party by organizing the estates-general
on the future of the French language in Quebec. For some of the hawks, the inquiry
marked a first step towards another referendum on sovereignty. Once again, a nationalist,
Yves Michaud, evoked the spectre of “the Jewish ethnic vote.” Stunned by this anti-Semitism
and the deep divisions it caused within the PQ, Bouchard resigned last December.
Yet his moderate voice continues to echo in the conciliatory stance of the estates-general.
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