The polarizing nature of social media effortlessly divides the United States and its 330 million Americans. But what happens when Facebook creates a fracture in a Quebec village of 400 souls? The locality of Grosses-Roches, in Gaspésie, recently experienced a fire fueled in line… until the barrel of powder exploded.
Everything, however, invites tranquility in this village nestled between Matane and Les Méchins. Grosses-Roches has scattered its houses along the 132 between the river and the hills, in a setting where nature seems to have given way to humans so that they can put down roots and admire it.
The daily newspaper of Rochelois scrolls on a Facebook page specific to the community. The knitters invite themselves to the weekly workshop. The choir plays a few songs ahead of the Christmas concert. The general store advertises its promotions to attract customers.
The page brings together people who have their village at heart and who share the pride of living there. It is a place of exchange and mutual aid that has sometimes become, in recent months, a theater of insults.
“You can forget that, your compost ‘osti’,” wrote a citizen to the mayor, Jonathan Massé, who came to announce in October the imminent arrival of the brown bin in the village.
This cold reception reserved for composting served as a prelude to another controversy that shook the community in recent months, namely the conversion of the school, which had been abandoned for ten years. The debates around the project envisaged by the town hall were at times lively, often cordial, but also, sometimes, soaked in digital vitriol.
In recent months, Facebook has helped to deepen, publication after publication, the economic, social and generational fractures latent in the village. These culminated one evening in January, during a particularly stormy meeting of the municipal council, which saw, among other things, the mayor brandishing a defamation lawsuit in the face of his predecessor and a citizen roaring a “shut up, the new” in full assembly.
“Go deeper than go into debt”
Grosses-Roches is a little corner of paradise struggling with a great decline. In 2018, the village was on the sad list of the 20 most devitalized localities in Quebec. That same year, the median income of its residents barely reached $23,000. The village is also aging: the average age, according to the last census, was 56 years old.
Many in the village believe that services must be developed to attract new residents and keep the wheel of the economy turning. This is particularly the opinion of the mayor in place, who plans to restore the school to enhance its huge land, install a community center and give a town hall worthy of the name in the village. For the moment, the administrative offices are located, in the absence of adequate premises, in the private residence of the Director General.
The priority for new arrivals is to attract new people. The more inhabitants there are, the less the tax burden will be. At the same time, there is a more aging population that says: “we were fine, why are you coming to turn everything upside down? »
Everyone wants to revitalize the village, but some don’t want to do it at any cost. The tax burden weighs heavily on the small population, and the last particularly high property tax increase, to 14%, left a bitter aftertaste for some.
Behind the counter of his general store, Pierre Lafontaine was able to observe the different positions in the village. “The priority for new arrivals,” he explains to the To have tois to attract new people. The more inhabitants there are, the less the tax burden will be. At the same time, there is a more aging population that says: “we were fine, why are you coming to turn everything upside down?” »
The arrival of newcomers with often well-stocked pockets arouses the mistrust of the original inhabitants who, sometimes, have only a small pension to make ends meet. Legitimate fears that the school’s conversion will sink the village coffers has begun to fuel the social media rumor machine. Some figures began to circulate: the project of the new mayor was going to cost at least 1.4 million dollars, that is to say as much as the annual budget of Grosses-Roches.
“If this project happens, taxes will increase, no one will settle [et] Grosses-Roches will fall into oblivion”, worried a first Internet user, while a second concluded thus “it is better to be encrusted than to go into debt”. A third was already seeing the property tax increase by “500 to 600 $ per year” if the village ventured into the “madness” of the mayor.
The latter is categorical: among all the scenarios studied, none makes taxes jump in this way. “Everything that has circulated on Facebook has greatly poisoned the debate and contributed to a fairly large disinformation of the population”, deplores Jonathan Massé. He specifies that the project envisaged by his administration remains embryonic: studies are underway to determine its viability and, above all, its cost.
“The barrel exploded”
Despite the lack of final data, one group crystallized an all-out opposition on Facebook.
“It is almost only these opponents that we hear online and who deviate all the debates in a totally grotesque or aggressive way, underlines the mayor. They even make the village look like an unwelcoming place for newcomers. There are people who believe that if you weren’t born in the village, you’re not a real Rochelois and that your opinion matters less. »
The apprehension fueled online has had very real repercussions in Grosses-Roches. A petition circulated in the village to nip the conversion of the school in the bud, signed by half of the population. Two advisers did not wait for the results of the studies either to rear up and reject the project.
“It’s sad, it’s very sad,” says longtime councilor Pâquerette Coulombe. People on social networks transform what is said, what is written, and there are a lot of head builders. On Facebook, some were encouraging slip-ups. »
She laments that people no longer show up for council meetings and are content to form their opinions online. “It divides the population. It’s okay whether people are for or against, the problem is that some stick to their position without having the right time. It’s really a pity. »
A movement, also fueled by social media, prompted opponents to show up at the January 16 council meeting. That evening, according to four accounts collected by The dutymonths of ferment on Facebook ended up bursting: “Neo-Rochelois” were booed, a citizen had unhappy words about another, while the former mayor, also involved in the melee to disavow the project, insinuated that his replacement was orchestrating a campaign of anonymous calls against him to intimidate him.
“It was like a firecracker, summarizes Pierre Lafontaine of the general store. When there was an assembly, the barrel exploded. “Since then, he assures, “it has calmed down, and people have started to breathe through their noses. On Facebook, it is also radio silence, since this January session.
A widespread plague
The storm that blew over Grosses-Roches also sweeps other municipalities, assures the president of the Quebec Federation of Municipalities, Jacques Demers.
“On social media, there are regular slippages,” he observes. The elect must not become punch bags online because their decisions do not suit everyone. It can quickly get a lot of people on board if no one with common sense puts a brake on the excesses. »
According to him, social networks are increasingly helping to discourage people from entering politics. “Yes, elected officials are throwing in the towel because of the climate on Facebook and Twitter. Regularly, elected officials deplore the hatred and threats that are pouring out against them on social media. Former Mount Royal mayor Philippe Roy and former Verdun councilor Marie-Eve Brunet Kitchen both cited the toxicity of social media among the reasons that made them sick of politics. They are just two examples among many others.
In the village of Grosses-Roches, everyone now wants to get out of this “bad chapter”, according to Pâquerette Coulombe. “It left a huge wound in our little community,” she notes. The village comes out with a few bruises: spoiled friendships, a degraded climate and a tarnished reputation, according to the testimonies collected.
“I don’t know how we are going to recover from this,” continues the adviser. His hope? “Let it just pass. »
She, at least, tries to turn the page by leaving the one devoted to the village on Facebook. “I landed, she concludes. I don’t want to know anything anymore. »
A previous version of this article, erroneously topped with a photo representing Les Méchins, has been modified.