Allison Hanes: Quebec isn't immune to rising tide of hate
Recent attacks on minorities in Montreal suggest a monster has been unleashed by Bill 21.
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A string of ugly incidents has disrupted the peace of an otherwise pleasant Montreal summer.
Last week, advocacy group B’nai Brith sounded the alarm about an assault on a kippah-wearing man in St-Laurent. He was punched in the face by a taxi driver who reportedly refused to move his cab for “any f—ing Jews.”
Days earlier, a mother picking up her daughter at daycare in Ahuntsic-Cartierville was bombarded with sexually explicit taunts by a man who objected to her speaking in Arabic.
In Quebec City, a Muslim man was allegedly stabbed leaving a dépanneur by a couple who called him a “goddamn immigrant.”
In May, a man tried to tear the veil off a niqab-wearing woman near the Charlevoix métro; she bravely gave chase and snapped his photo.
What’s going on? Are these random occurrences? Or can we connect the dots to delineate something larger and more ghastly?
While it might be tempting — reassuring, even — to dismiss these as isolated incidents, the social climate and political context suggest a trend that cannot and must not be swept under the rug.
All the altercations seem to have several aspects in common: the victims were all targeted due to their identity; the attacks were unprovoked; and the perpetrators all indicated in one way or another that they were motivated by hate. So let’s hope the police investigate these matters from that perspective.
Perhaps none of this should come as a surprise.
There has been a resurgence of hate around the globe. In Europe and in President Donald Trump’s America, there is growing tolerance for intolerance — or intolerance for tolerance, depending on your perspective. Canada, Quebec and Montreal are certainly not immune. Here, suspicion and enmity toward minorities often come disguised as concern over state secularism, an expression of nationalism or defence of free speech. Other times it’s just racist, angry bile.
In Trois-Rivières last weekend, a “vague bleue” of patriots rallied against Quebec’s enemies, which include longtime bugaboos like federalists and anglophones, along with new threats like Sikhs, Muslims, Jews and journalists.
Sure, studies show people fear who and what they do not know, and most Quebecers of different creeds and cultures live in and around Montreal. But even a city as usually harmoniously diverse as ours is not spared.
Statistics from the Montreal police’s hate crimes unit in June showed an uptick in xenophobic confrontations so far this year, with Muslims now surpassing Jews as the most frequent targets. A group that promotes intercultural understanding and leaders of the Muslim community blame Bill 21 for the increase.
This brings us to a chicken-and-egg question: Is the law a symptom of growing intolerance, or is it in itself fuelling the rising tide of hate?
Adopted in June, Bill 21 restricts religious minorities who wear a hijab, kippah or turban from holding positions of authority in the public service, most notably as teachers. It essentially legalizes discrimination, subverting fundamental rights like freedom of conscience and religion, the democratic process through the hasty manner in which it was adopted, and the course of justice by invoking the notwithstanding clause (although court challenges are underway).
But its social consequences may only now be becoming apparent. Bill 21 creates a sense of winner takes all and unleashed a monster. Bigots eager to lord it over “the other,” people who scapegoat immigrants for their own failures, and nationalists espousing an exclusive and restrictive identity now feel as emboldened to speak up as any Trump supporter at a rally.
The spoof site Le Revoir recently published a satirical piece about the CAQ government changing Quebec’s licence plate slogan from “Je me souviens” to “Chu pas raciste, mais … .”
Premier François Legault may consider the law moderate and tout its broad support among Quebecers in opinion polls. But by pandering to the unfounded fears of a majority, and institutionalizing an us-versus-them dynamic, the law provides convenient cover for those who perpetuate stereotypes and smears about minorities — be it casual hate or those intent on something more sinister.
The official script consists of:
- “I don’t think there is Islamophobia in Quebec,” later amended to “Quebec is not Islamophobic or racist.” (Legault)
- “The hijab does not correspond to my values.” (Isabelle Charest, Quebec minister for the status of women)
- “I am raging because this is really the Islamization of our country.” (Anjou borough councillor Lynne Shand, over being treated by a doctor in a hijab)
- “Merde, I forgot to celebrate Hitler’s birthday.” (Michelle Blanc, failed Parti Québécois candidate for Montreal’s Mercier riding)
But we hear its echoes in the vague bleue rally, as well as vile, misogynistic slurs aimed at immigrant mothers and children, and anti-Semitic attacks by cabbies.
It’s easier to shake our heads at Trump’s latest racist tweet or his supporters’ despicable “send her back” chants directed at a Somali-born congresswoman from Minnesota, but we must also take a hard look in the mirror. The rhetoric in Quebec may seem less incendiary, but actions speak louder than words.
It’s disturbing to see how quickly hate has been amplified since the passage of Bill 21. Can we put this ominous genie back in the bottle in Montreal — or elsewhere?
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