Among the toys we give to children, there is a classic: the shapes that must fit into the corresponding holes. Some people get there after a few tries. But there are those who insist on inserting a cylinder into a square hole. The former therefore quickly bend to the constraints of reality. It is generally believed that the latter did not understand the principle. Some of them, however, do not demonstrate stupidity, but voluntarism: they insist on bending reality to their will. This square hole will eventually allow the cylinder to pass if enough effort is put into it. We cannot otherwise succeed in squaring the circle.
When rebels enter Parliament, we witness a similar phenomenon. The institution is the orifice all in right angles. It embodies the norm, the tradition, the precedent. The rebel only exists to challenge the order, to push its limits, to round off its angles. Which always makes the story of rebels coming to power fascinating. Booksellers are offering us three specimens this fall and in time for the Book Fair.
Godin, by Jonathan Livernois (Lux). It has become legendary, a symbol of both snubs to power, of romantic passion with Pauline Julien, and of the poetry of reality with her cantuques, of openness to others in his riding of Mercier, Montreal’s heart of diversity. No wonder he is being fought over, in a game of political tug-of-war, between his original Parti Québécois and Québec Solidaire. Livernois leans towards the latter side, entrusting Ruba Ghazal with the introduction to the work.
We find a Godin more interesting before power than once elected. He was a real creative force, both in his texts which draw on popular speech (including blasphemy, which then carried a scandalous charge) and in the creation of a left-wing weekly, Quebec Press, which he held at arm’s length. He also held the helm of Parti pris editions, which published, among others, Pierre Vallières, at the risk of prosecution for sedition. Prisoner in October 1970, then winner in the ballot box against his jailer Robert Bourassa, Godin also carries around the face of a serial charmer.
René Lévesque was wary of this troublemaker and made him wait for four years on the MP benches. Seeing that he was making relatively few waves there, he promoted him to minister where, at Immigration, he showed generosity, and where, at the French Language, he rounded off the angles left by Camille Laurin. It’s not nothing, but we are far from the reformist fireworks. With Godin, the square hole essentially got the better of the man’s roundness.
The hotheads, by Catherine Dorion (Lux). We do not come away indifferent from this skin-deep story of a head-on collision between a rebel and those in power. Certainly, when we want to take anti-system actions, when we want to shock, it is incongruous to complain that the system is resisting and that people are outraged. The fact remains that the scale of the political-media vortex into which Dorion sinks as soon as she enters Parliament exceeds what a normally constituted human being (even a regular on the stage like her) can reasonably absorb without flinching.
The author, who knows how to write, makes us experience these moments of great pain intensely. The noose tightens when the injunctions to comply come both from the outside – the columnists, the other parties – and from the inside – the “mafia”, she writes, surrounding Gabriel Nadeau-Dubois. He tries to make QS respectable; Dorion, irreverence itself, shoots orange balls in the other direction.
A key moment: after the hoodie, a movement invites people to wear this item of clothing on the same day almost everywhere, as a sign of solidarity with the MP and distrust of conformism. QS management prohibits its staff from doing so or even relaying images of participants on social networks. Hard.
Could Dorion, to fight her battles (on loneliness, on the dangers of performance, on culture) have learned patience, become a skillful tactician? It was too much to ask of him. It’s all in one piece. Take it or leave it. This is a case where the friction of the cylinder on the square hole has reached its peak. And it hurt the cylinder as much as the hole.
Louise Harel. Without compromise, by Philippe Schnobb (Éditions La Presse). Student leader at the time of the major strikes of the late 1960s, Louise Harel established herself as the captain of the press of the independence left. Constantly re-elected by the center of the PQ protest, the Montreal-Centre region, she embodies what René Lévesque hates within his party. Whether it’s abortion, support for union causes or referendum strategy, Harel sometimes puts his leader, who seeks to remain in the center, in difficulty – and at times in the minority.
Having become a member of parliament, she ended up gaining his trust and entering the council of ministers where, especially under Jacques Parizeau, Lucien Bouchard and Bernard Landry, she combined reforms: job training, then creation of Emploi Québec, social assistance reform for better access to work, pay equity. So many real social advances whose success was based on colossal work, first-rate maneuvering capacity, knowledge of institutions and the balance of power.
Harel, unlike Dorion and much more than Godin, knew how to use power to change reality. Whatever the title of the work says, she didn’t really do it “without compromise”, and her personality undoubtedly lent itself more to it. The fact remains that she is among the champions of squaring the circle.
Jean-François Lisée led the PQ from 2016 to 2018. He published Through the mouth of my pencils published by Somme Tout/Le Devoir. He will be found at his signing table at the Montreal Book Fair this Friday from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m. and this Saturday from 5 p.m. to 6 p.m. [email protected].