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Andrew Cohen: Charter is part of Marois’ cynical plan

For weeks, events in Quebec have unfolded with an elegant predictability. Even in a world in which politics routinely trumps principle, rarely have we seen an electoral ploy as nakedly cynical as this.

For weeks, events in Quebec have unfolded with an elegant predictability. Even in a world in which politics routinely trumps principle, rarely have we seen an electoral ploy as nakedly cynical as this.

In August, the Parti Québécois sent up trial balloons on its Quebec Charter of Values. It wanted to test reaction to a proposed ban on religious dress and symbols among public employees.

The early response was hostile in English saʴý. The Péquistes had a fright when the Conservatives and New Democrats were silent at first, but they were relieved when Justin Trudeau condemned the proposal early and enthusiastically. Although his views were much applauded in multicultural Montreal, the Péquistes knew that they would play less well in rural Quebec, where the party’s prospects for a much-coveted majority government lie.

In September, the charter was unveiled. NDPLeader Tom Mulcair spoke up. Minister of Multiculturalism Jason Kenney, who is privately outraged, talked of challenging the charter in court.

Now, this was more like it. Everyone was co-operating. The Péquistes were looking for a fight and got one. Their charter had created the friction between saʴý and Quebec that is oxygen to them.

And so, once again, into the breach in the latest skirmish of saʴý’s Constitutional Wars. On one side: Quebec, the “distinct society” of pure laine Québécois, declaring “unity” in homogeneity. On the other side: saʴý, open and pluralistic, finding identity in diversity.

When these notions come into conflict, as they have since the 1960s, the sovereigntists turn to independence. Now, with the criticism of the charter from three former premiers — Jacques Parizeau, Bernard Landry and Lucien Bouchard — another piece of the Péquiste strategy falls into place.

Premier Pauline Marois and her crafty lieutenant, Jean-Francois Lisée, can call them passé and paint them as grandees from the big city, far from the lily-white hinterland of “vrai” Quebec. Doesn’t Parizeau have a vineyard in France? Doesn’t Bouchard work for a Jewish law firm in Montreal? If things go badly, listen for a few unkind words for these cosmopolitans.

The strategy is to divide Quebec along linguistic, religious, intellectual, racial and regional lines. Between old-stock Québécois and recent immigrants, between French and English (and other languages), between the Island of Montreal and the regions. For Lisée and his crowd, there is only one question in this whole sordid business: Will it play in Pointe au Pic? Will it get them a majority?

It is a mistake, though, to think Marois cares about Parizeau and company and the rift they have deepened within the sovereignty movement. If the charter brings the Péquistes a majority and sets the table for a referendum, they think the sovereigntist soldiers will return. It is also a mistake to think Marois will back down on the charter.

She has no trouble trumpeting “unity” while sowing division. It doesn’t matter to her that her proposed charter makes Quebec — which fancies itself a progressive place, akin to social democratic Europe — small, mean and parochial. Nor does it matter to her that the charter contradicts one of the great developments of the last generation: the rights revolution, which has uplifted and emboldened women, blacks, Jews, homosexuals, children, native peoples and the disabled, among others.

Where that battle has been won, society has enhanced the rights of consumers, environmentalists, prisoners, refugees, even government whistleblowers and disgruntled airline passengers.

Oh, but not Quebec. Its charter does not extend rights, it restricts them. It doesn’t join the world’s conversation, it denies it. The Péquistes did not invent this kind of cynicism. In Ottawa, politics routinely trumps policy.

Watching this melodrama, minorities in Quebec are particularly uneasy. On Yom Kippur, there was dark talk of the charter in synagogues in Montreal. The province’s Jewish community continues to shrink. Once more than 150,000, it is now about 85,000.

If the charter becomes law, more will decamp. They will join the army of English Quebeckers who began leaving in the 1970s, taking with them their capital and talent, like the exodus of the Huguenots from 17th- and 18th-century France. Immigrants won’t come to Quebec, and those who have come won’t stay.

The Jews, Muslims, immigrants and anyone else with eyes see the Quebec Charter of Values for what it is: the sad, fearful cry of a tribal society led by well-tailored cynics.

Andrew Cohen is a professor of journalism and international affairs at Carleton University in Ottawa.