By dint of gauging the musculature of our French-speaking music by the yardstick of quotas, however imperfect they may be, it seems that we have lost along the way what we are fighting against. The language of Vigneault has nothing to fear from that of a Samian, with all due respect to the Festival international de la chanson de Granby (FICG), standard-bearer of the French language for more than 50 years, which has made us discover the talents of a Lisa LeBlanc and a Patrice Michaud. The festival’s stubbornness in measuring this matter through this prism alone is surprising.
More than a week after disinviting the rapper because he refused to settle for 20% Algonquin content, the organization remains impervious to voices urging him to water down his wine. On Monday, it was Grand Chief Savanna McGregor’s turn to demand an “unequivocal apology” on behalf of the Algonquin Anishinabeg Nation Tribal Council. “Anishinabemowin is certainly not a threat to the preservation of French, but the opposite is true, as our four centuries of living together have demonstrated,” she argued.
The 11 nations that make up Quebec represent approximately 1% of the population. Those who are fluent in either of their ancestral languages weigh even less, as the residential school system forced massive and painful linguistic cuts. Samian is one of those who had to stitch up their heritage. Born on a reserve, raised in French, he learned his ancestral language late in life from his grandmother. Nikamohis most recent album, is entirely woven in this language, except for the song Genocidefirebrand written mostly in French.
It is difficult to understand how the FICG was able to miss this political choice that the rapper and actor defended with his visor uncovered. One wonders above all how, with anemic figures that are on the verge of disappearance for certain indigenous languages, this soldier so enlightened in terms of linguistic defense could have misunderstood the nature of the battle in progress. The threat that awaits us is primarily on the front of the discoverability of French-language content, which is overwhelmed by English-language domination.
On a Canadian scale, Nielsen Music estimated the share of Quebec performers at 2% of the 88 billion listens recorded in 2020, a drop of water from coast to coast. We are not doing much better in Quebec. Our music represents only 8% of listening on major platforms like Spotify or Apple Music – 6% when we only talk about French-speaking Quebec music. And, as if that weren’t enough, the Observatoire de la culture told us last month that Quebec artists who are doing well are rarer than ever on these same platforms, with others struggling to get their new releases discovered. to the public.
Clearly, the FICG is placing its outrage, so right in its absolute right, in the wrong place. Ditto for those who urge Samian and consorts to go and be heard elsewhere, especially under reserved banners such as that of Native Presence. This festival may work wonders, do we really want a world where culture would fall into mutually exclusive boxes even as Quebec multiplies programs to promote indigenous cultures with the avowed aim of amplifying their muffled voices?
And let’s not believe that this fight is soluble in our Charter of the French language. It is written in full in its preamble: the National Assembly recognizes “the Amerindians and Inuit of Quebec” the right “to maintain and develop their language and culture of origin”, including this right in a “universal movement revalorization of national cultures” which she encourages without detour. Although criticized by First Nations who claim a special status for Aboriginal languages, Bill 96 also recognizes this principle.
Putting French and Anishinabemowin (or any other Aboriginal language) on a prism similar to that which opposes French to English makes no sense. The showcase competition Les Francouvertes understood this well, he who made the bet to open up to Aboriginal languages without it raising waves. A revolution in itself for the one who made us discover artists like Damien Robitaille or Les Sœurs Boulay.
As UNESCO’s International Decade of Indigenous Languages begins, there is good reason to consider this exception, which confirms the rule, as an asset. Especially since the fight led by Aboriginal people to keep their living languages is also ours. Building bridges between our minority cultures also means showing solidarity in the face of a common enemy: the invisibility in which the giants of online listening keep us. One for all! All for one ?