Hidden in Plain Sight
Eileen Manion
“How and why does
a culture of tolerance fall apart?”
Maria Rosa Menocal, The Ornament of the World:
A Culture of Tolerance in Medieval Spain
Across from where Rue Christophe Colomb dead-ends at Parc Laurier stands a concrete pedestal topped by a bust of Queen Isabelle, who, along with King Ferdinand, in 1492 gave some support to the man who wanted to sail to India but bumped into several islands in the Caribbean instead.
Last summer when I walked to the park, the bust was difficult to spot, partially hidden by leafy bushes. I imagined the concealment was symbolic — we don’t feel as proud of Columbus and his patrons as we used to a few decades ago since we’ve become more aware of the genocide that accompanied his “discovery” of the “New World.”
This spring, however, it’s possible to get a better look at Isabelle before the trees and bushes have fully developed their leaves. With gaze turned upward and a cross around her neck, she’s the image of piety. And the crowned woman inevitably evokes the “Mary Queen of Heaven” statues we often see in Catholic churches.
In addition to supporting Columbus, Isabelle and Ferdinand were also responsible for expelling the Jews and Moslems living in Spain if they refused to convert to Christianity.
For centuries, members of these three communities had lived side by side sharing space, languages, culture. But the rise of nation states encouraged the idea that conformity to a national identity, associated then with Catholicism, should trump diversity.
Today here in Quebec identity and diversity exist in an uneasy relationship. The passing of Bill 21, which prohibits any display of religious symbols by those working in positions of authority, such as teachers, police officers, lawyers or judges, did not explicitly expel any religious groups, but it did impose a kind of conformity, in this case, labeled secularism. If religion is supposed to be a private matter, any public display, like a hijab or yarmulke, becomes suspect.
Some attempts have been made in Montreal to rid ourselves of honoring historical figures associated with genocide of First Nations people. In 2019, Amherst St. was changed to Atateken since Jeffrey Amherst was a British general who had written several letters advocating giving smallpox infected blankets to indigenous people. Atateken means peace, equality, fraternity.
Perhaps one day Rue Christoph Colomb will also be renamed. But changing street names doesn’t create a culture of tolerance.
If we assume that national identity means conforming to a religion or to the suppression of religious symbols, we are in danger of losing the tolerance of diversity we supposedly value.
Some historians have associated the rise of intolerance in Europe with the trauma of the Black Death which led to break downs of civic standards. The sick found themselves abandoned by family, friends. Many were left to suffer and die alone.
Although we have institutions in place that prevent such total loss of social order, some of the suffering caused by Covid-19 has been shocking to us — the elderly abandoned in nursing homes, those dying in hospitals unable to see loved ones.
In the early months of the pandemic, Quebec was slow to require the wearing of masks in indoor public places. At the time, I thought this might have been because in the debate over Bill 21, we heard so much discussion of how anti-social it was to hide one’s face from the gaze of others.
Bill 21 was passed well before the covid-19 crisis began, but we need to learn from the past and avoid a tendency to scapegoat others when we are faced with something we fear, don’t completely understand, and are tempted to retreat to what seems like a safe uniformity.
The bust of Isabelle reminds us of an earlier consensus around national identity: pride in imperialist conquest and a shared belief in Catholicism.
Today we’re uncomfortable with our colonialist past as we attempt to come to terms with its abuses and injustices.
And since the Quiet Revolution of the 1960s, Catholicism no longer dominates Quebec.
But a repressive idea of secularism cannot be a path toward tolerance.
