HENRY AUBIN, - Fifty protesters marred the groundbreaking ceremony for the McGill University Health Centre's new hospital two weeks ago. They swarmed the Glen site, forcing Premier Jean Charest, Mayor Gérald Tremblay and other dignitaries to hold the ceremony indoors. Among the protesters' beefs was the hospital's "anglophone" dimension. Never mind that the MUHC is among the most thoroughly bilingual institutions in Canada.
Protesters were at it again last week. Members of a fledgling Quebec separatist group planted 101 wooden crosses on the construction site. Their communiqué, rich in victimization rhetoric, explained the symbolism: "This cemetery of crosses, in the image of cemeteries for soldiers fallen in the two Great Wars, represents the Québécois people who, after centuries of battle, are finally conceding to the English-speaking pressure on the continent."
My first reaction to these demonstrators was exasperation. The protests, small though they might be, reflect a sizable current of Quebec opinion that sees a gain by anglos as a threat to francophones. Even a bilingual institution like the MUHC that serves about as many francos as anglos is a perceived threat.
I could understand this suspicion in the 1970s, when many anglos displayed arrogance, but the anglo community has undergone a metamorphosis since then. Why do so many francophones ignore this change?
My second reaction came when thinking of the answer to that question. Many francos ignore this change because anglos do a poor job of showing them how they've changed. We're too passive.
Reed Scowen, the former Liberal MNA, has written, "It is impossible to identify a leader of the English community today." He said the demise of Alliance Québec, which he once chaired, epitomized the disappearance of anglo Quebec's "leadership infrastructure."
Scowen wrote that in 2007, and it's still true today. Anglo MNAs are as vocal as church mice. The Quebec cabinet's two anglo members, as my colleague Don Macpherson noted last year, seem embarrassed to be considered as anglos.
If, say, Alliance Québec-style leaders were around today, they'd be busy. They'd be writing reports, holding press conferences, and visiting editorial boards of French newspapers to spread the message that much of Montreal's creative juices depend on interplay between its dual cultures. The MUHC's plan for a new hospital exemplifies precisely that: Its plan inspired the Université de Montréal to produce a comparable vision.
Such Leaders Could Also Hammer Home the Facts:
That, contrary to myth, the portion of residents of the Montreal metropolitan region who speak English most often at home has shrunk from 25 per cent in the 1970s to 17 per cent. Some threat.
That eight per cent of Quebecers whose maternal language is English account for only 0.9 per cent of Quebec's civil-service jobs, an outrage.
That anglos and allophones are consistently under-represented (if not absent) on advisory panels on which they might have much to say - the director-general of election's citizens' panel on electoral reform in January, for example, or the Montreal Board of Trade's panel on municipal reform in March.
Despite their low standing, anglos, as well as allophones, have much to contribute to society. They often have different ideas from the majority, and diversity of opinion makes for meaningful debates and well-considered decisions.
But if they often don't get that chance, it's not just because the "other side" resists. It can also be because the anglo community as a whole doesn't do enough to show why it deserves to be seen as an ally, not as an adversary.
Call it marketing, call it PR, call it putting one's best foot forward. Whatever you call it, we're not doing enough of it.
The haughty, disdainful anglos of a generation ago are gone. If the last week's protesters at the MUHC had a better grip on reality, those crosses in the impromptu "cemetery" would symbolize the old stereotypical anglos' graves.