Appearance of religious neutrality matters
I would not have made a hellfire issue like banning religious signs for government employees the first item on my agenda if I were leading a new government. Not with the words “notwithstanding clause” and “you’re fired!” in the same sentence. And certainly not announced by two relatively green MNAs.
But it’s no surprise that François Legault, in the name of religious neutrality, is prepared go so far as to ban the wearing of anything by police officers, judges, prosecutors, prison guards and teachers that would identify their faith.
That was his position during the Parti Québécois’s charter debate. It was also a campaign promise.
The reasoning is simple: people who personify the authority of a religiously neutral state should not only act in a neutral manner, but also display neutrality.
Except for teachers, all these employees of the state must wear uniforms, an exercise in self-effacement. Adding a cross, kippah, hijab or turban dilutes this message and muddles the issue of who is the “higher power.” Like it did when Montreal police officers wore camouflage pants.
Appearance, for many, is reality.
When a police officer fires his weapon, society as a whole must have immediate certainty that this was done in the name of the law, not because of some ancient religious conflict.
Imagine a Syrian refugee child lost in Montreal. Would this child ask a kippah-wearing policeman for help, considering the history of conflict between Israel and Syria and how Jews are portrayed in his country of origin?
Appearance of neutrality matters when a religious Sikh presides over the trial of a religious Hindu, if only to guarantee all involved a measure of comfort.
This is about justice, equality and fairness. And democracy. A 2017 Repère communication poll showed 64 per cent of Quebecers support this proposal.
I won’t deny some see it as a tool to control immigrants’ religious practice, especially those of Muslims. Or as licence to divide. This must be condemned.
Not everyone understands the principle of “laïcité,” or secularism. It does not ban religion in the public sphere, it separates church and state. I like the Cambridge dictionary definition: “the belief that religion should not be involved with the ordinary social and political activities of a country.”
That’s why the crucifix in the National Assembly has to go.
I fought tooth and nail against the PQ’s charter of laïcité. I don’t care if a 113-year-old law in France imposes such limitations on all government employees. This is not France, thank God.
The idea that the state would fire kippahwearing cardiologists, turban-clad civil servants or hijabi nurses is beyond nasty.
The Coalition Avenir Québec’s moderate position is based on the Bouchard-Taylor recommendation, but adds teachers. Charles Taylor changed his mind, however, nine years after co-authoring the report.
The question remains: Does this ban constitute discrimination when considering the unique nature of the work involved? Considering that the ban would apply to all religions, to men and women equally?
Is it discrimination when the RCMP won’t hire someone with ostentatious tattoos? Piercings, too, are banned (except for women’s stud earrings). Yet, both are self-expression, a right protected under the Charter.
Some activists consider Québécois’ massive support for this proposed ban further proof of racism or xenophobia by francophones, while most of its francophone supporters believe it will serve the higher interests of a complex, multi-ethnic, multi-faith society better than laissez-faire.
Having lived in both French and English societies, including in England where personal freedom is a religion, I accept both points of view.
I’m not a fan of religious accessories that signal women are temptresses, but a Muslim female police officer with a hijab does not offend me. Nor having a turbaned defence minister speak for Canada.
This is the world we live in now. But it should also be OK to be able to exercise our democratic right to manage change to serve our interests.