In The question of power in Acadia (1982), historian Léon Thériault regretted that New Brunswick toponymy was almost entirely Anglophone, thus symbolically making the Acadian presence on the territory invisible. He regretted, for example, that the city of Edmundston (originally called Petit-Sault), almost 95% French-speaking, was named after a former British lieutenant-governor of the colony of New Brunswick, or that the city of Moncton (formerly called Le Coude), more than 30% French-speaking, be named after Lieutenant-General Robert Monckton, notorious for his active role in the deportation of Acadians.
Posted at 11:00 a.m.
This spring, a historic opportunity arose to proceed with a massive francization of New Brunswick’s toponymy. Indeed, (Acadian) Minister Daniel Allain is currently leading a vast reform of local governance, promising to increase the number of municipal entities in the province from 340 to 77. The new toponyms were made public last week. The gains for French have been significant (the French-speaking community of Eel River Crossing will thus be integrated into the new entity of Bois-Joli, that of Rogersville in New Arcadia, and that of Beresford in Belle-Baie), but a massive francization of toponymy did not materialize, which is hardly surprising: Acadian civil society did not ask for so much. The toponyms of Edmundston, Campbellton, Bathurst or Moncton, for example, have remained since they are not controversial.
A key to explaining this relative comfort of Acadian civil society with the toponyms of the British colonizers lies, in my opinion, in the concept of rebel toponymy. Let us recall that the maps of the State are superimposed on the informal ones of collective imaginations.
In other words, the official toponyms, recognized by the State, are not the only ones that count. Thus, in Edmundston, it is much more common to identify as Brayon than as Edmundstonien, even if Brayonnie does not exist on any official map. The mayor of Edmundston also bears the honorary title of President of the Republic of Madawaska, even if, of course, this “republic” enjoys no state recognition. The toponym Edmundston is more circumvented than debated; much more important is the debate as to whether or not the Republic of Madawaska is part of Acadie… Even if, of course, Acadie, as a toponym, is not recognized by the State, which does not t prevents Caraquet, in its municipal motto, from declaring itself its capital, and the Acadians of Moncton from imagining themselves living in its metropolis. Our university may be officially called the Université de Moncton, but on a day-to-day basis, it goes without saying that the territory in which it is anchored is not that of Moncton, but indeed that of Acadia, whose cartography is finally quite clearly fixed in the collective imagination.
Designating a bygone country, the toponym Acadie connotes a subtle political resistance to the British-Canadianization of the region; informal, the toponym therefore appears to us to be also rebellious.
Irvingnie
In his test band of settlers (Lux, 2020), essayist Alain Deneault, now a professor at the Université de Moncton, offers another toponym with an assumed rebellious character: Irvingnie, in reference to the wealthy Irving family and its various namesake businesses. While the toponym Acadie tries to make visible the heritage of a politically marginalized people, the toponym Irvingnie tries to make visible the identity of the true holders of power over large swaths of the territory of the province.
According to the journalist of National Observer Bruce Livesey (2016), the various Irving companies collectively employ one in 12 employees in New Brunswick and are responsible for more than half of its exports. Its forestry subsidiary, JD Irving, privately owns 3.2 million acres of forest while administering a further 2.6 million on Crown land, directly controlling one-third of the province’s territory (which spans 18 million acres).
If the forest, the jobs and the capital circulating in a territory are controlled by a single family, wouldn’t it be more honest to name it after that family rather than after the landscapes, however beautiful they may be?
The superposition of the maps of New Brunswick, Acadia and Irvingnie would also make it possible to camp the three urban centers of the province: if Fredericton would then still appear as the official capital of the province, Moncton would appear as the metropolis of l’Acadie, and Saint-Jean, as the headquarters of l’Irvignie, hosting the headquarters of Irving Oil and JD Irving, as well as the personal residences of members of the central core of the family.
It now remains to fully assume these rebellious toponyms and the political charge they contain. Acadia and Irvingnie express a revolt against the established order; it is no surprise that the regime cannot integrate them into its cards.