Last week, our esteemed Prime Minister and his party passed a motion in the House O’Commons that recognized Quebec as a nation within Canada. Don’t worry, dear American Readers, I’ll translate later.
What Stephen "Steve" Harper has done is pointed out the obvious: Quebec is a nation within Canada. At the same time, just as the Liberals are going into a convention, Harper has pulled the rug out from under all the Liberal candidates by taking away half the talking points they were going to jaw about for the rest of the weekend.
Historically what we call the Canada part of North America has been inhabited, archeologically, by First Nations for an estimated 26,500 years. Parts of Ontario have been dated as habited for 9,500 years. The first Euro-weenies arrived here around 1000 AD. They were Vikings and sailed to Newfoundland about 492 years before Chris Columbus botched his navigation to Asia and found a Sandals resort in San Salvador. The Vikings were looking for fish and trying to find someone at "867-5309 – Jenny" who had left a message for Eric the Red in Oslo.
There were other visitors: John Cabot in 1497 was one of the earlier ones who actually found the mainland. Martin Frobisher stopped by in 1576, then Samuel de Champlain in 1603.
When Jacques Cartier landed near Quebec City in 1534 our First Nations folks, who had never seen pasty-ass whiteboys, pointed at a settlement called Stadacona and said "Kanata". Kanata roughly translates as "village’ or "settlement" and Cartier, being none too bright, figured the name of the whole country was Canada. The handle stuck.
There have always been English and French explorers walking around, claiming this river or that hill for the King or Queen of England or France. Short form? Our Canadian roots are both English and French with equal importance.
The broad generalization of Quebec being mostly French speaking and the rest of Canada mostly English speaking does apply. With any generalization, there are exceptions: English is met with a blank stare on Dundas Street in Toronto, perhaps Cantonese or Viet would work better. Hindi or Punjabi are the conversational coins of the realm in New Westminster, BC. A weird mix of Icelandic, Ukrainian and English works in Gimli, Manitoba. You can practice your Finnish in Thunder Bay, Ontario. Canada is a mutt when it comes to linguistic purity.
Over the years various governments, federal, provincial and European in our colonial days, have tried to codify the cultural and linguistic duality of Canada. They all failed.
Canadians, however, recognize it. Quebec is a different part of Canada. Just like Seattle is different from Hartford, or Philly is different from New York City, Quebec is different from Ontario. Canadians tend not to give a rat’s ass about it most of the time, unless the politicians start stirring up nonsense, which they do roughly every ten years.
Where the difficulty comes in is the definition of what is a Quebecer? Harper didn’t bother to define it when the motion was put up the tree and has left it hanging over the heads of the rest of the country like loose stools in a mesh bag: We’re all going to get covered by it eventually.
Depending on what translation you use, the motion recognizes Quebcois or Quebecers. Quebecers are the people of Quebec, in the English version. Not Francophones, just the people who reside in the province. In the French version the Quebecois are recognized as a nation. Other politicians have claimed that the term means "Pur Laine Quebecois’, the literal translation meaning Pure Wool Quebecers, who trace their lineage back hundreds of years in Quebec, in a francophone linguistic and cultural context that pointedly ignores those who are not.
I have no gripe with Quebec being recognized as a nation within Canada, until you try to define who is member of that nation. That is the danger area.
Theoretically, I can claim membership because I speak enough French to get by, have eaten poutine, been to a cabane a sucre and know the words A Ton a Tour. I also claim membership because I’ve been to Jarry Park to watch Le Grand Orange play, love Schwartz’ smoked meat and have been to the Maple Leaf Bar in Rimouski. Hell, I’ve even seen Jean Beliveau play for the Montreal Canadiens in the Forum and have bought beer at a Dep at an ungodly hour, while drunk. Does that make me a Quebecois?
I fondly remember Steinbergs, Ogilvy’s and Pascal. I’ve seen Gilles Vigneault and played Ginette Reno music on the radio. I thought Rene Simard was a freak along with Patsy Gallant and Corey Hart. Andy Kim was OK and I can give you a very concise plot of Balconville. I can cuss in both official languages, lusted after Madeline Kronby on the beloved Chez Helene and smoked duMaurier as my brand for quite a while. I’ll admit to drinking Bras D’Or when it was 12 percent alcohol and have enjoyed Maudite! from Unibroue, both in a legitimate brasserie and a taverne, not a bar. I’ve been to Club SuperSexe, eaten brochettes and prayed at Marie, Reine de la Monde.
I know how to make proper feves au lard, boulets and enjoy cretonnes Chez Cora. I have done Reveillon. If browsing Allo Police! at the Provi-Soir checkout is a condition of membership, then I’m applying. If eating a Jos. Louis is it, I’m in, but I prefer the Mae West. I even know what you mean by Je Me Souviens and have walked on what is left of the Plains of Abraham.
Am I a pur laine Quebecois? I happen to be Canadian thank you. This means I can exist outside of arbitrary definitions of who is or who is not a member of any group by being able to accept and appreciate all the groups that make up Canada.
The only people who are pur laine anything are the First Nations who greeted the various explorers, pointed out that little village over there and called it Kanata.
American Translation: Texas is being recognized by Washington as a separate, distinct society in the US. There are no powers associated with it, just the recognition that Texas and Texans are different from the rest of the US. The rest of the US are going "and I’m supposed to give a shit why?" Texans are trying to define themselves as the only people who can use "Y’all" as a noun, verb, adverb, adjective, conjunction and gerund, while driving a pickup truck with a "Don’t Mess With Texas" bumper sticker.
RoadDave 