Quebec leaves logic behind
Quebec’s identity crisis leaves logic far behind
In order to live happily in Quebec as a politically aware, sentient being, one has to forgo a little bit of logic.
Some days, one has to forget logic is even a thing. Take, if you please, the insistent tone and indolent shrug with which Premier François Legault dismisses the idea that the crucifix is a religious symbol.
Wait, what?
If you took a deep breath and started relaxing when pundits told you the recent election was the first one in, like, ever where separation was not an issue, you might be shocked to hear this. But the fact that “separation” is no longer trending does not mean all is well on the other side of the river.
Quebec is having a bit of an identity crisis, especially over the question of how to welcome immigrants without losing its distinctness as a mostly white, mostly Catholic-ish, Frenchspeaking nation. In recent years, it has struggled to come up with a model of integration that would satisfy most without running afoul of charter rights or, you know, basic human decency.
One idea that keeps coming back is to impose a version of public secularism that more or less works in France. Separation of church and state is a given, and so is the freedom of regular people to worship — or not — as they see fit. What’s in contention is how much of people’s private spirituality should be allowed to spill out onto the public square, and at whose expense. Can veiled women be tolerated on the street? Can a Sikh wearing a turban or carrying a kirpan be allowed on transit or in school? Should you remove face coverings to get your driver’s licence? Can you work for the government wearing a yarmulke, especially if your job involves interacting with the public?
Most people are OK with reasonable displays of religiosity, but not from their government. The state must be seen as religiously agnostic so that everyone, regardless of creed, can feel equal under its laws. There’s a lot of support — in Quebec and elsewhere — for this idea. Except for that giant crucifix over the Speaker’s chair in the Legislative Assembly. Which, it could be argued, has a smidge of public authority about it.
Legault’s party made it a priority to forbid those in positions of authority, including teachers, from displaying religious symbols in order to protect Quebec’s secular identity. So then are you going to remove that crucifix, installed under Maurice Duplessis back in the 1930s? Nah, he says. That’s not a religious symbol. (It will also stay in courtrooms.)
When a baffled reporter asked him how he could not see a cross on the wall as a religious sign, Legault said, well, we have a cross on our flag — then swiftly moved on to not answering something else.
You’re probably struggling right now not to suffocate under the weight of such wilful blindness. I know the feeling.
“In our past we had Protestants and Catholics,” Legault added, forgetting the presence or contributions of First Nations while lecturing others on history (time to update the licenceplate motto, methinks). “They built the values we have in Quebec. We have to recognize that and not mix that with religious signs.”
That’s OK. Take a minute to unspin your noggin. I’ll wait. And point out that it’s the height of cynicism for secular Quebecers in 2018 to defend both the legacy of Maurice Duplessis and WASPian colonialism in a bid to defend Quebec’s 21st-century identity.
It’s maddening, but in a weird way it’s completely normal too. Because Quebecers are used to not being logical on religion. They don’t attend church much, except on very special occasions. But when you ask them about religious affiliation, they’re quick to claim one.
Quebecers are used to belonging to a religious group without having to bother with any of the religiosity. They say they’re Catholic because it’s part of their cultural heritage more than anything. That’s a perfectly valid position to take, unless of course you care about logic. But as the recent election demonstrated, on that topic at least, it’s nowhere near being a thing.