Not Bad For Such a Young Nation.
The birth of Quebec as a nation, as told by a kid who remembers.
Warning: this article is a very generalized version of events that happened in Quebec starting in 1960. It is intended for people who know very little about Canadian History. It is in no way meant as an expert piece in social sciences. I would suggest this is also not the place for Quebec-bashing, but if you feel like you absolutely need to bash us, then feel free to do so. To quote Leon Uris “Like they say in the Russian Marines: ‘toughsky shitsky’”.
My nation is sixty-two years old. Yup. Only that.
Long ago, in the XVIth Century, when all of Europe set out exploring the planet, my French ancestors sailed up the Saint-Lawrence River and decided to settle down on its shores. This was a long, drawn-out process that lasted many decades.
Quebec City was founded in 1608. Montreal in 1642. Every French-Canadian primary school kid knows that.
In the meantime, French explorers “discovered” most of North America, being the first Europeans on the Great Lakes, down the Mississippi, and up the Missouri. These explorers got along great with the First Nations, trading with them, learning their language, even marrying their women (sometimes while having a French wife back home at the same time). Oftentimes though, these fellows were accompanied by Catholic priests who tried to ram religion down the First Nations’ throats.
All these people were French and subjects of the King of France. When said King was Henri IV, or his son Louis XIII, things were all right. Then came Louis XIV and I think he took good care of New France, although, contrary to what the English settlers were doing in New England, much less money was invested in his colony. When Louis XIV passed away after a very long reign, he was succeeded by his great-grandson Louis XV. That fellow didn’t care very much about us, and when the English decided to conquer New France in the late 1750s, there were less than 100,000 people there compared to about 2,5 million in the 13 colonies of New England.
The French fought valiantly, but with such a population imbalance, it was just a question of time.
So it was that, in 1763, when the Seven Years War ended, my ancestors became British subjects.
Normally, if the English took over an area, the inhabitants would be forced to convert to Anglicanism and to learn English. Forcefully if needed, which is probably what the Brits had in mind for my ancestors. But in the late 1760s, there was a small matter of the American Colonies being slightly restless, and the English figured out that they didn’t have near enough military forces in North America to both control their new French subjects and their own fidgety colonists.
So, they came up with a deal which they proposed to our French Catholic bishops: “You keep the French population under control for us, and you get to keep your French language and your Catholic religion.” Not being one to turn down such a lucrative proposition, the Catholic Church accepted.
And took over the entirety of our society.
The thing is, no one told them when it was time to ease up. Maybe along the way, they forgot.
In 1953, when I was born, my people were still under the total control of the Catholic Church. And when I mean total, it’s total. Think Ireland then make it worse.
Over the years, the Catholic Church had completely taken over our society. Health care was under their direction, so was social welfare. Medicine had to be blessed by them (woe to the MD who stood up to the nuns that controlled everything). Education was entirely under control of the Church. So were social norms and, up to a very great degree, social behaviour. Even politics: “Remember that heaven is blue and hell, red.”
My people were barely educated, except for the notaries, the MDs and the priests. The Church would scour the schools run by its friars and nuns, for promising students to elevate to a superior level of learning, controlled of course by them.
The average French-Canadian man was either a subsistence farmer — therefore with no money — or a labourer in the great big industrial complexes in the cities. Mostly In Montreal. The living conditions were “Industrial Revolution England” ie appalling.
Except for the small local merchants, the ruling class was “les Anglais” who owned everything and ran everything, lording it over my people many of whom were servants in their large mansions and summer homes. Our economic and social development was on par with that of the African Americans. In the late 1890s infant mortality in Montreal was the second highest in the British Empire, “bested” only by Kolkata’s. At the beginning of the XXth Century, the social development of the French Canadian population was on par with the US’s black population. One French-Canadian author even wrote a book calling for us to revolt. Its title “The White Negroes of America.”
This may seem hard to believe, but I saw it myself. Society was so unchanging that, when I was a child, it was exactly the same as described in a 1980 movie set in 1939 (Les Plouffe). Same language, same furniture, same domination of the Church, same mentality. The movie is like if I was in my grandparents’ apartment once again. And no, the film maker did not commit an anachronism. This was the truth.
We did not rule ourselves or run ourselves. Immediate, day-to-day power was in the hands of the Church. The more distant, overruling power was in the hands of “Les Anglais.” At first, in London, then, in Ottawa.
And then suddenly, there was 1960. A new government was elected in Quebec, one that had absolutely nothing to do with the Catholic Church. It was the first time I had ever heard about politics and elections, but everywhere, people were whispering that things were going to change in a big way. In our History, it’s called “The Quiet Revolution” because there was minimal effusion of blood.
And it proved to be true. Within a few years, the Catholic religion had been put aside, our universities, colleges and schools had become non-denominational and under control of the government. Same thing with hospitals, government ministries, even municipal governments. Many people, for the first time, felt freedom. Now, everything was possible.
I should probably dwell on those years in another piece.
It didn’t all happen overnight, but almost. As a young officer in our Armed Forces, in the early 1970s, I was told more than once to “speak white” but those were minor incidents.
Oh, and we had acquired a new name: Quebecers.
So, yes, my people are sixty years old. Please remember what a young nation we are, and please marvel at what accomplishments came with this nationhood.
