Inflamed Quebec debate

The separatist Parti Québécois may have a new leader in Pauline Marois, but it has lost nothing of its old, coercive instincts.

Citoyenneté québécoise - Conjoncture de crise en vue

The separatist Parti Québécois may have a new leader in Pauline Marois, but it has lost nothing of its old, coercive instincts.
Marois has stirred an uproar by tabling a bill in the National Assembly to create a "Quebec citizenship" process that would strip political rights from people who arrive in the province without speaking French, or knowing enough about Quebec's history and culture.
Under Marois's bizarre Quebec Identity Act, the roughly 40 per cent of Canadian citizens and foreigners who arrive each year without speaking French would be denied "Quebec citizenship." They would be barred from running for the National Assembly, municipal council or school posts, and from contributing to political parties or petitioning the assembly. Last year, this would have disenfranchised 18,000 of the 45,000 people who settled in Quebec.
Just imagine. A born-in-Canada computer analyst from Toronto who moves to Montreal for work could apply for "Quebec citizenship" only if he or she speaks French and knows Quebec culture. Otherwise, he or she can say goodbye to rights guaranteed by the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The same would apply to foreign immigrants.
Happily, Premier Jean Charest has quickly denounced Marois's assault on non-francophones as "unacceptable," saying it created "first- and second-class citizens." Opposition Action Démocratique Leader Mario Dumont is also unimpressed. And legal experts warn it would never withstand a court challenge. Article 3 of the Charter says "every Canadian citizen" has the right to qualify for election to Parliament and provincial legislatures. Marois's proposal mocks that guarantee.
So the PQ's bill seems headed for nowhere. It is nothing more than a cynical ploy by a party that ran third in the last election to reaffirm its credentials as a defender of Quebec's identity, and to cash in on the unease some Quebecers feel about non-francophone newcomers. But its introduction in the legislature does nothing good for Quebec's image and may hinder efforts to attract new immigrants.
This is just one nasty aspect of Quebec's never-ending debate over "nous et eux," us and them.
Emotions also are running high over "how far" a society that is 80 per cent French-speaking with Catholic roots should go to accommodate Muslims, who make up less than 1.5 per cent of the population, and other minorities. While this debate is a legitimate one in Quebec and elsewhere, some of the fears being stirred are absurd.
Earlier this year, the town of Hérouxville made news by drawing up municipal "standards" that invited Muslim women not to veil their faces except at Halloween, and that stipulated there would be no public stoning of women, burning them alive or throwing acid at them. "We're telling people who we are," said one councillor. Now equally benighted fears are being aired at a commission Charest struck to sound out public views on accommodating newcomers.
As the PQ bill and Hérouxville illustrate, Quebec's identity debate risks becoming an inflamed one, rather than an informed one.
Cooler and more tolerant heads must prevail, for society's sake.
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