Quebec’s latest language flap was mercifully short-lived.
One day after French language commissioner Benoît Dubreuil issued a report recommending the province reduce access to English content on government websites to ensure the content is available only to Quebecers with the “right” to see it under Bill 96, Minister of the French Language Jean-François Roberge said that’s not in the cards.
“We have no intention of having some kind of password or identification mechanism,” Roberge said after the release of the report last week. “We’ll keep what I would call the good-faith mechanism that we currently use.”
Phew. That’s a relief for English-speaking Quebecers. The population can be trusted enough not to illicitly consult government web pages in English — otherwise anglos would soon have had to jump through new hoops to check out income-tax brackets on Revenu Québec’s site or find the operating hours of the local Société de l’assurance automobile du Québec succursale.
But it’s not simply a matter of “all’s well that ends well.”
Cumbersome “identification mechanisms” are impractical, which is likely the main reason Roberge ruled them out. But that doesn’t mean English information won’t be surreptitiously scaled back in other ways. A retrenchment could still happen as “death by 1,000 cuts” rather than in one fell swoop.
Anglophones have to constantly be on the lookout for the rollback of our rights in ways that seem to become increasingly absurd.
Think of the Office québécois de la langue française’s attempt to make the Société de transport de Montréal change “Go! Canadiens Go!” to “Allez! Canadiens Allez!” on hundreds of buses; a Montreal library’s refusal of a room to host a book club meeting partly in English unless simultaneous French translation was provided; or a directive published in 2024 that suggested anglophones should show their eligibility certificates for English education to obtain English health care.
That latter case dragged on for weeks while Roberge denied what was written in black and white and gaslit English-speaking Quebecers about there being any erosion of their rights. He eventually backed down, but only after pushback.
To his credit, Roberge seems to have realized swift intervention can prevent a skirmish from blowing up into a battle (or at least avoid needless embarrassment).
He promptly stepped in to say the library had erred in rebuffing the book club and to OK the use of phrases like “Go Habs Go.” Last week, Roberge rapidly put to rest the possibility we’d have to “prove” our right to get basic information online.
French Language Minister Jean-François Roberge seems to have realized the value of swift intervention in matters such as the OQLF’s attempt to outlaw phrases like “Go Habs Go” on buses, Allison Hanes writes. John Mahoney / Montreal Gazette files
So why bother to write about this if it’s now moot? Because if we don’t stand up and say “are you kidding me?”, then we’d be quietly forfeiting our rights. If we just let things like this slide, we’d be tacitly acquiescing to being treated like second-class citizens.
If it’s not one thing, it’s another.
The English-speaking community is on high alert over Premier Christine Fréchette’s plan to extend the provisions of Bill 101 to vocational schools. As many as 27,000 adult education students could become ineligible to finish their high school studies or train to work in the health sector or trades in English.
Christopher Skeete, the minister responsible for relations with English-speaking Quebecers, essentially said: Don’t worry, anglophone rights will be respected under this change.
But past experience has shown such promises often prove empty.
The divide-and-conquer strategy to draw a line between so-called “historic anglos” and a broad array of others who avail themselves of English programs, services and institutions results in collateral damage.
Sometimes it’s immigrants. They now have just six months before they are required to interact with the government in French, whether they’ve managed to access francization programs or not. (And by the way, Dubreuil also called for that grace period to be more stringently monitored and followed.)
Sometimes it’s vulnerable Indigenous students being subject to onerous French-language requirements to graduate from college under Bill 96.
Sometimes it’s English institutions themselves, like the CEGEPs that were destabilized by enrolment caps and the implementation of curriculum changes.
English school boards are already warning of significant upheaval and harm if 27,000 students are suddenly barred from their adult learning centres.
It’s maddening and ludicrous that we can’t let down our guard. When it’s not the government directly, there are entire agencies and departments dedicated to promoting the French language that seem to look for ways to do it at the expense of the English-speaking community.
We can all agree French is fragile and deserves protection. But often the watchdogs overlook progress.
Recent inspection results from the OQLF found 98 per cent of businesses on three major streets in Greater Montreal were able to adequately serve customers in French. But that stellar score still wasn’t good enough. Will it ever be?
The line between constructive measures to ensure the vitality of French and ridiculous overreach gets crossed often.
Some recent positive measures include Dubreuil’s recommendation that organizations play music with French lyrics, preferably by Québécois artists, to callers on hold, rather than instrumental tracks. Good idea.
There is merit to mandating Netflix and YouTube to include more French-language cultural content, preferably Québécois, on their streaming apps.
The OQLF’s recent effort to encourage fans to cheer for the Habs in French during their playoff run seemed a bit goofy at first glance. But it provided a lexicon of French hockey terminology that might come in handy for newcomers, bandwagon jumpers or anglos. Hey, why not?
But analyzing how often people consult Quebec government online resources in English or suggesting putting the English material behind secure walls to hide it from non-rights holders is really getting into the weeds.
Why would someone even bother to look at the English version of a website unless they needed to?
The fact there are already warning labels stipulating who does and doesn’t have this “right” is silly enough. Luckily, Roberge stepped in to prevent this farcical proposal from becoming policy.
Sanity may have prevailed this time. But English-speaking Quebecers are no doubt already wondering: What next?
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I started at The Montreal Gazette in 2000 as an intern. Since then I have covered the National Assembly and courts, worked on the assignment desk and written editorials, before debuting as city columnist in 2017.
ahanes@postmedia.com