When I want to be facetious with my federalist friends, which happens to me quite regularly, I ask them two questions. First: what was the result, in Quebec, of the referendum on the Constitution of Pierre Trudeau? Generally, my interlocutor laboriously searches for the answer in his brain, a little as if he were subjected to a vox pop from Guy Nantel. In the absence of an answer, I continue: good, so how did you vote? This causes, in most, synaptic chaos.
I admit, it’s cruel. In the current democratic environment, everyone assumes that a profound change to our fundamental law has necessarily been submitted to popular vote. It is hard to imagine that this was not the case in 1982. The reduction of the powers of Quebec was decided by deputies, those of Ottawa and of all the provinces except Quebec, then signed by our very gracious queen, who came from London on purpose.
Therefore, no ordinary citizen voted for or against the constitution which regulates, to this day, our rights. Though. 30 years ago next Wednesday there was a consultation on a revised and corrected version of this constitution. Unlike the referendums on sovereignty of 1980 and 1995, which are regularly recalled, commented upon and documented, that of 1992 is only very rarely mentioned. It is not because he was shunned by the electorate. On the contrary: 72% of all Canadians and, even better, 83% of Quebecers went to the polls to answer the question asked.
Yet the imprints of this political earthquake have taken refuge in a shameful corner of Canadian memory. Why ? Because this vote drives a stake in the body politic. Because the Canadian population, which never said yes to the constitution of 1982, then said no, in 1992, to its improved version, up to 54%. The very existence of this refusal calls into question the legitimacy of the fundamental law of the country.
To be convinced of this, one need only read the lyrical sentences devoted by the Supreme Court to the “democratic principle” in the reference on secession, in 1998: “A system of government cannot survive by respecting the right. A political system must also have legitimacy, which requires, in our political culture, an interaction of the rule of law and the democratic principle. The system must be able to reflect the aspirations of the population. »
To evoke the October 1992 referendum is therefore to recall the absence of this democratic principle at the center of the Canadian legal structure. It is the shameful disease of the system, which recent history shows cannot be cured. The only remedy available is to never talk about it. To act as if the patient was doing well.
Or rather, the patients. Because if the refusal of the agreement, said of Charlottetown, is expressed in a raw figure, unequivocally, it combines two contradictory refusals and of equivalent strength, that of Quebec and that of the rest of Canada, the ROC.
Tons of polls and analyzes converge on this conclusion. Ottawa-hired pollsters sum it up in their “Post-Game Analysis” memo, which I got for my book. the wrecker : “The elements of the package [l’entente], taken individually, were pretty much acceptable to all Canadians, with one exception: the guarantee that Quebec would have 25% of the seats in the Commons was decidedly unpopular in the ROC. Between 60% and 70% of English Canadians found this provision unfair. It provoked rejection in itself, but also revived rejection of the distinct society clause. These two clauses together suggested that, whatever the other objectives of the authors of the Accord, their main mission was to appease the Quebec nationalists. »
In short, English Canadians considered the Accord too generous to Quebec. We can therefore think that they preferred the Constitution as it was, without these cursed additions. For Quebecers, the verdict is reversed.
A detailed analysis of voter behavior was carried out by political scientists Richard Johnston, from British Columbia, and André Blais, from Montreal, to The Challenge of Direct Democracy: The 1992 Canadian Referendum (McGill-Queen’s). Their conclusion: “The No won in Quebec because a large proportion of non-sovereignists could not overcome their apprehensions about the agreement; they felt that the agreement was not a good compromise and that Quebec had rather lost out, and they were no longer sure they could trust [au premier ministre Robert] Bourassa. […] Of all the elements of the Charlottetown agreement, the one that swayed the vote the most was the distinct society clause. Massively, Quebecers were in favor of this recognition, but a majority, even among non-sovereignists, felt that it did not go far enough. And since this clause was Quebec’s only significant gain — the 25% [de sièges garantis aux Communes] being considered irrelevant—it was difficult to claim that the agreement was good. »
In short, even if the agreement included many other elements, in particular more autonomy for the Aboriginal peoples, a proposal supported by a majority of Quebeckers and Canadians, it all hinged on the Quebec question. Too much for the ROC, too little for Quebec.
We must therefore draw for Quebec a conclusion contrary to that understood for the ROC. By saying no to the improved version of the Canadian constitution, Quebecers indicated, at 57%, that even so packaged, the fundamental law of the country was unacceptable to them.
No wonder federalist brains have trouble integrating this data, do not know how to manage it, where to put it. In the grand narrative of Canadian nationalism, this is the episode that should not be seen. During the two referendums that we remember, Quebeckers said no to independence. But in that forgotten referendum, they said no to the text on which Canada’s very existence rests.