Much ink has been spilled after François Legault’s decision to double the tuition fees for students outside Quebec who come to study in our English-speaking universities. Including the flagship of McGill, which immediately sacrificed its project to promote French. Those who talk about the fate reserved for French-speaking universities elsewhere in the country find the Anglo minority well treated on our lands. But did the leaders of these temples of knowledge really need to learn the details of the operation in the middle of the academic year, with a thousand administrative hassles involved? Respect honors the person who expresses it. What cavalier manners! And how tarnished is the aura of the metropolis!
Beyond the economic arguments and the speeches on the survival of French that the government throws in their face, it smacks of old resentments, sweet to rekindle. Since the time that each linguistic camp sends the one opposite to its red tunics and its arrowed sashes, emotionality and prejudices have been on display. The humiliation of the Conquest remains a gaping wound in the psyche of French-speaking Quebecers. Among former victors, a persistent feeling of superiority irritates us. These days, the referendum question resurfaces with the year 1 budget of PQ leader Paul St-Pierre Plamondon. Should we bring out the long knives?
On the other hand, this climate of tension can make you want to breathe through your nose for a moment, putting aside your emotions to send flowers to the historical adversary, who has just received one. As a courtesy, on a basis of equality. If a new referendum ever arises, the rising generations will not rally around the old squabbles of bell towers. They would like to change their tone, raise the debate. The exodus of English speakers would no longer be a given. We should learn to talk to each other, if only to better confront each other.
We rightly talk a lot about the great cultural achievements of Quebecers, exceptional from coast to coast. From across Canada, artistic voices are celebrating this formidable, distinct industry, born from a very fertile language barrier. The fact remains that our national works are increasingly mixed. Especially in the metropolis, languages, accents and instruments mix. Like in the street.
We congratulate ourselves, while denying the English-speaking contribution to the artistic mosaic of the field. Except to adorn yourself with the universal poetry of Leonard Cohen. The cantor ofHallelujah, a native of Westmount but friend of the sovereignist sculptor Armand Vaillancourt, was he considered the Quebecois he was? His giant portrait floats on a beautiful mural in the city center, out of caste and out of reach.
Attending the cultural arena means seeing to what extent the English-speaking community of Montreal is involved body and soul in teaching, but also in patronage. Rich, but not stingy for two cents. Great music and opera benefit from its generosity, like key museums and multiple foundations. So many exhibition and concert halls bear the names of these generous donors.
Phyllis Lambert, daughter of the Bronfman empire, fought tooth and nail alongside francophones to save the McGill ghetto and the gray stones of Old Montreal. She founded the Canadian Center for Architecture, like Phoebe Greenberg the Phi Centre, cultural temples celebrated by the living forces of the two solitudes.
This tradition of patronage, alive among English speakers, is an example to follow. Why not take our hats off to them at least for that? By historical grudge? For fear of stooping to recognize their merits? However, greeting your neighbor means putting yourself on their level, it is enriching yourself with their contributions, it is offering with the other hand, it is communicating. The challenges of the 21ste century demand new tones of dialogue. Do we have to feel colonized to rejoice in giving legs to prestigious universities, under the guise of protection?
We feel it clearly: the worst threat to French today is no longer the presence of Anglos among us, often bilingual, nor even that of new arrivals, who drive the economy, but the language that we skin all over the place. So let’s shake off this collective helplessness in the face of the wind of toxic globalization and finally aim for excellence! If we put as much energy into transmitting the love of French at school and elsewhere as into impressing the English-speaking community, Quebec would feel more proud of this unique culture of which each citizen on the floor remains a custodian for the rest of the world. world.