Masked messages

To wear a mask, or not to wear a mask? That remains the question. On May 12, with the National Assembly reopened, Quebec’s opposition parties pressed the government on why it hasn’t made masks mandatory, at least on public transit. Liberals, Pqists—all seem in favour of obligatory masks on buses and metros, as are about 89% of Quebecers, according to a recent poll.

The issue of masks has been fraught since the pandemic broke. In the early days of the crisis, Canada’s top public health official, Teresa Tam, initially advised Canadians against wearing masks, mainly to prevent them from being hoarded.

During the 1918 influenza pandemic, masks became a psychological crutch for a terrified population battling a disease it could barely understand. Absent reliable medical guidance, people turned to anything they could to protect themselves.

There were many home remedies and other quack medicines, most involving vile-smelling pastes, creams and amulets, which at least had the salutary effect of keeping people away – a kind of forced social distancing.

Another way people felt protected was by wearing masks. But the material was often so loose-knit that, in the words of a PBS documentary on the pandemic, “it was like trying to keep out dust with chicken wire.”

Thankfully, mask technology has evolved a great deal since 1918.

Still, there is one aspect of the great mask debate here in Quebec that deserves more attention than it is getting: namely, the politics of the pre-pandemic mask, before face coverings became a kind of civic duty.

For some time now, Premier Legault has been cutting a conspicuous figure at his daily pandemic press conferences, wearing colourful masks that cover both his nose and mouth. As all self-respecting leaders should do (pace Donald Trump), Legault is modelling the behaviour he expects of his fellow citizens.

“If you are going to see your mother, going into a store, and certainly, if you are taking a bus, wear a mask,” M. Legault exhorted Quebecers in French, underlining with particular urgency the need for transit users to mask themselves.

He’s right. Wearing a mask is sound public health advice, provided that we understand the limits of masks, and provided that we are not taking them away from healthcare workers, who need them more than we do.

But none of this erases the breathtaking irony of the government’s newfound position on these items. After all, not long ago the CAQ’S divine mission was to legislate masks—and other, even less concealing garments—out of public life entirely.

I’m talking, of course, about Bill 21, that infamous law banning religious face- and head-coverings for certain public sector workers. Given how divisive that whole debate was, it is a little awkward to see our new masked premier begging us all to please cover up.

Bill 21 is most notorious for preventing schoolteachers from covering their heads and faces. At the time of the bill’s drafting, the government seemed concerned about the psychological impact such concealment might have on students.

Yet earlier this month, the premier re-opened schools and daycares in most of the province, resulting in at least some children being greeted by educators in full face shields.

And the irony doesn’t end there. Bill 21 also prevents people wearing religious masks from receiving public services, including riding a bus. Specifically, it stipulates that mask-wearers reveal their faces upon boarding, especially when using a transit card.

But will this edict apply now that all riders are exhorted—and by the premier himself—to be masked? Will drivers demand the niqab-wearer show her face, while the rest of us hide behind our N95s?

The government is certainly aware of this irony. When asked why they aren’t making masks mandatory, they have made all sorts of pious noises about the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. There must be good reason, they intoned, to impose on personal liberties in this way.

Yet where was this concern during the Bill 21 debates?

Yes, the public health position on masks has been anything but consistent.

IBut pandemics aren’t consistent either and we should cut our politicians slack if their message evolves along with a crisis.

Still, the premier might show a little more contrition, now that he needs masks to fight a pandemic. Nobody forced him to put these anodyne objects at the centre of a culture war. am writing to modify an assertion published in my letter to The Record last Friday; in that letter, I stated that deaths in Quebec have declined by “98 per cent” since their peak a month ago on April 29.

It turns out that the Covid data I was relating, initially published May 13 in a double-page graphic in the Journal de Montreal, were credited to data from the “Gouvernement du Quebec”.

The Gazette, however, uses data from the Institut National de la Sante Publique , and INSPQ data are significantly different; they show a roughly 50-60 per cent decline in deaths since their peak here on April 29. A much more choppy and stubbornly slow decline.

How can these two data sources differ, when each Quebec death is easy to record, and is confirmed by a state-issued death certificate? I have put in a query to the Journal investigative reporter responsible, and will try to work out that statistical anomaly. In the meantime, Quebec deaths ARE steadily declining, and the mass breakout from enforced lockdown is accelerating everywhere.

Except of course in North Hatley, where a mayor obsessed with bad science is continuing to defy the continent-wide health trends toward more outdoor activity this spring. All parks here remain closed and barricaded.

Yesterday, the mayor contacted a private-property owner across the street from our lakefront park, and strongly suggested that he remove the privately supplied benches that allow out-of-town visitors and locals alike to relax and enjoy the view. I spoke with one gentleman there who was exasperated at this request, since the benches were a benevolent donation made to encourage leisure and recreation in our beautiful village.

Regressive measures like this should be denounced immediately. Luckily, the mayor faces intense opposition on his town council; it meets Monday afternoon via Zoom. His policy defeat must be the goal of all proud North Hatley residents -- before we become a national laughingstock.