Being an English-speaking allophone Quebecer who supports Bill 101 and its enforcement is a bit of a torn existence.
On the one hand, I strongly believe in the need to protect French and understand the reasons for language legislation. French will always remain under pressure within a North American context, and I don’t see anything controversial or surprising about a government agency tasked with ensuring that the rules around Quebec’s official and common language are followed.
On the other hand, it feels like not a month goes by when we don’t get hit by groan-worthy headlines involving the overzealousness of inspectors from the Office québécois de la langue française — when interventions come off looking like harassment rather than guidance, and hard-working people who contribute to our economy are made to feel more as threats than partners in preserving Quebec’s uniqueness.
The fact that citizen complaints to the OQLF are anonymous doesn’t help to endear the agency to those who fear disgruntled consumers can easily weaponize a government service for their own petty grudge matches. OQLF data for the 2024-2025 reporting period reveals 22 per cent of complaints were deemed unfounded or inadmissible.
From my experience, not all non-francophones roll their eyes at the OQLF, deplore its budget or dub its agents “the language police” (though admittedly many do.) But much of the valid work it performs is too often overshadowed by the clumsiness and heavy-handedness of inspectors and a government that seems unable to acknowledge Montreal has always been more than just French.
Who can forget the OQLF forcing STM buses to remove “Go! Canadiens Go!” from its electronic displays after a citizen complaint, before the government was shamed into skating it back? Is the OQLF working overtime to come off as ridiculous?
It feels like not a month goes by when we don’t get hit by groan-worthy headlines involving the overzealousness of inspectors from the Office québécois de la langue française.
A CBC story about SoLIT Café in downtown Montreal that has received repeated complaints, visits and compliance requests recently caught my eye. The OQLF had issues with the café’s name, with an inspector raising the question of whether “SoLIT” could be interpreted as an English phrase if split in two. So now small business owners are being harangued about potential word combinations, not even actual words?
Not only that, that agency asked the owner to translate “chicken nachos” on the menu. When she changed it to “nachos au poulet,” she was told no, no, she also needed to change “nachos.” Pastagate all over again.
For the record, the word “nacho” appears in the Le Robert online dictionary. If French in Quebec is in danger from a corn tortilla chip the entire world knows as “nacho,” well, what more is there to say?
Sadly, there is more.
A few months ago, a family-run Syrian-Armenian-Lebanese bakery in Villeray also found itself in the OQLF’s crosshairs — this time for social-media posts the watchdog said lacked sufficient French content. The irony is that the family is French and Arabic-speaking. It’s not like customers were not being served in French.
The owner’s son delivered some much needed perspective that for me — the daughter of hard-working restaurant owners — hit close to home: “We’re not experts,” he was quoted as saying. “We don’t pay $2,000 a month for social-media consultants. We’re up at 5 a.m. baking.”
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I fully understand the frustration of those investing their money here, having to navigate complex language laws and maybe trying to drum up some business on social media with limited means in a tough economy — only to face the added stress of unwarranted language inspections over a TikTok video.
Now, the latest OQLF saga is unfolding in St-Henri. The co-owner of Arthurs Nosh Bar (it’s trademarked), a popular brunch spot, took to Instagram to complain her business was targeted for having the word “nosh” in the window. Nosh isn’t even an English word; it’s Yiddish for “snack” or “small bite.”
UNESCO lists Yiddish as a “definitely endangered” language. Many who spoke it died in the Holocaust. If Yiddish endangers French, one of the most popular languages in the world, what’s next on the OQLF’s target list — Ancient Greek?
Toula Drimonis is a Montreal journalist and the author of We, the Others: Allophones, Immigrants, and Belonging in Canada.
toulastake@gmail.com