(Texte français disponible ici.)

If there were a referendum tomorrow, two thirds of Quebecers would vote “No.” An alien might conclude the opposite by looking at the media landscape in La Belle Province.

When you open the newspaper looking for strong opinions on the possibility of Quebec becoming a country, what do you find?

Quebecor, which controls a significant portion of Quebec’s print media, is on a mission. Officially, Le Journal de Montréal and Le Journal de Québec have no official editorial stance. In practice, their most prominent opinion columns are overwhelmingly written by sovereigntists—sometimes crossing the line into unabashed propaganda (yes, Mathieu, I’m talking about you).

At Le Devoir, where columnists still accept the fact-checking process, the pattern is equally clear, both in the editorial board’s positions and in those of its leading columnists. While it doesn’t have the same impact on the general public as Quebecor’s newspapers, Le Devoir retains its status as Quebec’s leading intellectual newspaper. When Pierre-Karl Péladeau—Quebecor’s main shareholder—writes an opinion piece, it’s usually in Le Devoir.

In a bygone era, La Presse took a staunchly federalist stance. Although the pages of the “Débats” section were open to all ideas—and I can attest to this, having edited them for two years—its own editorial writers (Pratte, Dubuc, Gagnon) promoted federalism, which was also the position of the newspaper’s owner at the time.

Today, only chief editorial writer Stéphanie Grammond still carries the federalist torch. The rest of La Presse’s opinion writers are now columnists who rarely weigh in on Quebec’s national question. This is not unrelated to the structural change at La Presse, which became a nonprofit organization in 2018. And it’s no secret that the editorial line wasn’t particularly popular within the newsroom.

La Presse’s satellite newspapers during the Gesca era also abandoned their federalist stance when their corporate structure changed: Le Soleil (Québec City), Le Droit (Ottawa-Gatineau), Le Nouvelliste (Trois-Rivières), La Tribune (Sherbrooke), Le Quotidien (Saguenay), and La Voix de l’Est (Granby). Today, their columnists rarely, if ever, weigh in on the national question.

The Gazette remains staunchly federalist but has virtually no presence among francophones.

On TV and radio, the imbalance is much less pronounced, although Quebecor has been active in recent years with its station QUB, which leans in the same direction as the Empire’s newspapers.

All this to say that if we tried to form two hockey teams out of these politicized columnists, there wouldn’t be enough red jerseys, and the blue team would trounce the red one.

It’s still remarkable that, on the one hand, there’s a whole army promoting sovereignty—which is supported by a third of Quebecers—while the case for federalism, which enjoys clear majority support, is either downplayed or rarely made at all.

Yet, unless we consider all Quebec federalists to be idiots, traitors, or colonized people incapable of thinking for themselves, there is no shortage of arguments in favour of Quebec remaining part of Canada. That is, one can acknowledge that these arguments exist without necessarily agreeing with them.

On platforms like X, Facebook, Bluesky, and even LinkedIn, there’s heated debate on both sides of the national question. Why is the federalist viewpoint almost never championed by opinion leaders in our media?

Are federalist commentators embarrassed to say so?

I’ve worked in several newsrooms. In the course of daily discussions among colleagues, I haven’t seen many who openly favoured remaining in the federation or expressed a burning desire to write on the subject—if only to ensure that the other side of the debate is also represented. (Except in the editorial section of La Presse.)

Support for sovereignty is generally more emotional—and perhaps seen as nobler. By contrast, wanting to remain part of Canada is perceived as a position that is, above all, rational and pragmatic. And, let’s face it, a bit dull.

It’s a bit of a caricature and an oversimplification, but it’s not entirely wrong. On one side: the Conquest, survival, emancipation, and the promise of ultimate fulfillment. On the other: finding our place within a system that was imposed on us, incremental progress punctuated by recurring frustrations, financial responsibility, comfort, and the security of the status quo.

On one side, a somewhat perilous passion; on the other, a marriage of convenience.

The key figures, too. On one side, Lévesque, Parizeau, Bouchard. On the other, Trudeau (Sr.), Chrétien, Charest.

Most Quebecers would rather have a beer with the sovereigntist trio, regardless of their allegiances. (Met Jacques Parizeau once. What a character!)

And the more recent episodes. Let’s forget La Conquête and start with the 20th century: conscription, conscription again, the War Measures Act, the Night of the Long Knives, Meech, Charlottetown, the sponsorship scandal, the Clarity Act.

Let’s just say that the symbolic narrative doesn’t paint federalism in a particularly favourable light.

+++++++

Over time, we’ve come to forget that being a federalist doesn’t necessarily mean thinking everything that comes out of Ottawa is great. It simply means preferring that Quebec remain part of Canada, with all its imperfections and the very slow process of continuous improvement that’s still underway.

It means acknowledging the reality of the Conquest. But it also means being able to recall that it took place nearly three centuries ago.

It means acknowledging that another regime was imposed on our ancestors. But it also means being able to recall that this regime eventually recognized their language, their religion, and their rights. (And—which is no small detail—that New France was not uninhabited when the first settlers arrived.)

It means acknowledging that a colonial regime cruelly repressed the Patriotes, who sought a republic based on equality for all. But it also means being able to recall that these Patriotes—mostly French Canadians—included English, Irish, and Scottish people, whose descendants still live among us today.

It also means recalling that some of these former Patriotes went on to help establish a responsible government and lay the foundations of modern Canada.

It means acknowledging the excesses—even the violence—of that fledgling state. But it also means being able to recall that when we judge democracies from another era by today’s standards, nearly all of them fall short, even those we admire today.

It means acknowledging that the work of preserving a common language will never be complete. But it also means being able to recall the real gains that endure: the immense success of integrating our immigrants over the past 50 years; the fact that Quebec’s anglophones are more likely than their counterparts elsewhere in Canada to speak French; and that they send their children en masse to French immersion schools—and even to schools where French is the sole language of instruction.

It means acknowledging the many constitutional frustrations. But it also means being able to point out that they have ultimately led to numerous political advances: Quebec’s increased control over immigration; its recognition as a distinct society, and later as a nation; and the effective right to opt out of federal programs with financial compensation. Not to mention Quebec’s immense influence on federal governance, where it has played an outsized role for the past 60 years.

It means acknowledging the viability of an independent Quebec. But it also means being able to point out that it is even more viable and prosperous within the federal system.

Finally, it means acknowledging the democratic legitimacy of the sovereignty movement. But it also means being able to state, without any hesitation and with conviction, that it is just as legitimate and democratic to want to remain within the Canadian federation. And that this desire, expressed continuously and consistently by a clear majority of Quebecers, must also be recognized, affirmed, and supported.

And that doesn’t necessarily mean you have a maple leaf tattooed on your heart. (Or anywhere else.)

+++++++

For the first time in 30 years, the Parti Québécois is promising to hold a referendum during its first term if elected—and it has a good chance of being elected.

Above all, this is the first time we’re entering what could effectively be a pre-referendum election campaign with a “Yes” media camp—but no “No” camp.

Will we see Quebecor’s media outlets and Le Devoir on a mission, with almost no one to present the other side of the story? Or will we instead witness a sort of awakening among non-aligned media outlets, leading to coverage that more accurately reflects Quebecers’ views?

Without resorting to propaganda, can we at least present the other side of the independence debate, if only to remind people why two thirds of Quebecers have reached the opposite conclusion?

It’s a matter of balance. From the perspective of journalistic fairness, it’s also a matter of responsibility. Because if those who can do it don’t, who will?

Perhaps our newspapers need some new blood. Or at least a little more red mixed in with all that blue.

-30-

I’m diving back into my vacation, and I’ll be back for the election campaign. A huge thank you to everyone who supports this publication and what I’m trying to do here.

My name is Patrick Déry. I’m a French-speaking Québécois writing for a living, and trying something different here. If you enjoyed reading this text, you can support me by buying me a coffee. You can also subscribe to this media (free or paid, your choice).

Comments, shares, and “likes” are always appreciated.

(Texte français disponible ici.)

Who would have predicted that, in the summer of 2026, just a few weeks before the elections in Quebec, we’d be squabbling over Labrador?

The Parti Québécois tried to stir things up last week during discussions between Quebec and Newfoundland regarding the current and future development of hydroelectric power on the Churchill River in Labrador.

The issue is of paramount importance to Quebec, since the Churchill Falls power plant supplies 15% of our electricity. It is also politically charged for Newfoundlanders, many of whom feel they were taken advantage of by a 1969 contract which still allows Quebec to purchase electricity at 0.2 cents per kilowatt-hour until 2041 —a pretty good deal, considering producing it can easily cost twenty to fifty times more.

The PQ’s argument has two prongs. The first is that Quebec Premier Christine Fréchette lacks the legitimacy to negotiate with her Newfoundland counterpart Tony Wakeham, since she was elected only by members of her own party after François Legault’s resignation earlier this year.

The second is that Quebec suffered a historic injustice when Labrador was granted to Newfoundland in 1927 by the Privy Council in London, a “British colonialist tribunal,” in the words of a Parti Québécois MNA.

The first argument is particularly far-fetched when you consider where it comes from. In 2001, when Lucien Bouchard had had enough of the Parti Québécois and resigned as its leader, there was no leadership race. Bernard Landry was crowned party leader and, consequently, premier. Not a single Quebecer—not even a single member of his own party—had the opportunity to vote for him.

That didn’t stop Mr. Landry from leading Quebec for two years until the next election, overseeing the tabling of two budgets, signing the “Paix des Braves” agreement with the Cree Nation, and committing the province to the goals of the Kyoto Protocol.

No one seriously believed that Bernard Landry was acting illegitimately. Our electoral system may not be ideal, but that’s how it works. Even if it’s tempting from a partisan standpoint, Parti Québécois MNAs should think twice before attacking its integrity.

Now, Labrador.

When I was in elementary school, back in another century, it seemed obvious that the triangle-shaped area over the Côte-Nord—with its distinctly French-sounding name—must belong to Quebec. Our geography teachers did nothing to dispel that impression, and the border was even drawn as a dotted line, unlike those of the other provinces.

It was annoying. Seen from space, the Quebec Peninsula is one of the most recognizable features of North America, jutting boldly into the Atlantic toward Europe, of which it is, in a way, an extension.

Natural geography thus made the decision to give Labrador to Newfoundland seem like an illegal seizure of our territory, with a rather disappointing aesthetic result. It was as if that Privy Council had taken a chunk of Quebec just to spite us.

Decades later, René Lévesque spoke of “judicial theft.” Once again, it was the Brits against us. The Conquest of New France replayed itself endlessly, with British colonialism haunting us right into the 21^st century. Bring out the muskets!

It’s both tragic and romantic, but it’s also a bit of an exaggeration.

Between the end of French rule and the early 20^th century, Labrador has been tugged in every direction with each redrawing of the map of what would eventually become the province of Quebec. The development of the territory surrounding the Churchill River naturally led to disagreements between Newfoundland (which was still a British dominion) and Quebec. At the time, Ottawa sided with us.

The dispute led to the 1927 decision by the Privy Council in London—and to our collective bitterness that has lasted nearly a century. Our collective memory, however, did not last that long.

First, we tend to forget that the 1927 decision was not a court ruling, but an arbitration sought and agreed to by all parties, the general terms and protocol of which were negotiated over a period of 15 years. At the conclusion of the negotiations, all parties agreed that a border existed and had to be defined. That is what the Privy Council was asked to do.

In other words, the scenario of a Labrador belonging exclusively to Quebec was not even considered. Furthermore, two of Canada’s three lawyers were appointed by Quebec. It cannot be said that this was done behind our backs or over our heads.

What matters most is what happened next. In the decades that followed, successive governments in Quebec had numerous opportunities to affirm or challenge—implicitly or explicitly—the 1927 decision. Aside from official recognition of the borders, most of the actions taken by the Quebec government have been in line with acceptance of the current borders, including the way in which mineral and energy resources have been exploited in the region.

Moreover, Quebec had numerous opportunities to negotiate the return of part of Labrador’s territory through its many interactions with its neighbour. In the 1930s, just a few years after the infamous 1927 decision, Newfoundland—financially strapped—was even prepared to sell Labrador. Quebec never stepped forward at that time nor afterward.

This entire story was recounted in great detail in the 1972 report by the Commission d’étude sur l’intégrité du territoire du Québec (CEITQ), which had received its mandate from Premier Daniel Johnson Sr. during the negotiations for the original Churchill Falls contract in 1966. It was recounted a few years ago by journalist Jean-Benoît Nadeau in a landmark article for the magazine L’actualité, which asked the question: “Was Labrador really ‘stolen’ from Quebec?”

The answer from the CEITQ commissioners—who ultimately wrote 33 volumes on Quebec’s borders, including 18 devoted solely to the issue of Labrador—is “no”.

In its Livre bleu sur l’indépendance du Québec, the Parti Québécois cites the CEITQ’s work and continues to characterize the 1927 decision as an “injustice.”

It’s worth reading what Jean-Paul Lacasse, the commission’s secretary and now professor emeritus at the University of Ottawa’s Faculty of Law, had to say to journalist Nadeau in 2022:

“Many Quebec nationalists still grieve over ‘their Labrador,’ but what can you do? These are unsubstantiated claims with no basis in fact. (…) The 1927 ruling contains no blatant falsehoods or evidence of fraud. Any legal challenge would be doomed to failure. It was with a heavy heart that we reached this conclusion.”

The PQ also cites in its Livre bleu the book Quebec: An Uncertain Territory, co-authored by Professor Lacasse and late geographer Henri Dorion. The authors meticulously detail the imprecision of certain parts of Quebec’s borders—particularly on the Labrador Peninsula—as well as the real problems this causes today. They never endorse the “judicial theft” theory.

“(…) numerous acts recognizing the border as it was demarcated in 1927 have left Quebec in a relatively weak position with regard to a potential renegotiation of the border.” (p. 84)

“(…) Quebec has no legal grounds on which to challenge the demarcation itself.” (p. 98)

They add the following regarding the attempt by Quebec and Canada in 1927 to concede Newfoundland only a one-mile-wide strip along the Labrador coast:

“It must finally be acknowledged that the position jointly defended by Quebec and Canada before the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council was historically and geopolitically indefensible.” (p. 98)

One can debate how the lawyers chosen by Quebec presented their case before the Privy Council, and one can certainly wonder whether a different approach would have yielded a different result. But no one can fault Newfoundland’s representatives for having been more competent than Canada’s.

There was neither fraud nor injustice, only an unfavourable decision—and many missed opportunities afterward. Nearly 100 years later, almost everyone has moved on, which explains why a staunch nationalist like Mr. Legault negotiated a tentative agreement with Andrew Furey, Mr. Wakeham’s predecessor.

+++++++

Why is the Parti Québécois suddenly making such a fuss about Labrador?

First, it’s a matter of principle, because the PQ believes that Quebec should receive compensation for the lost territory. It may also be a matter of political necessity.

If an agreement is reached with Newfoundland before the next election, it will be more difficult for the Parti Québécois to back out of it, especially if the PQ can’t win a majority in next October’s elections. In addition to the political price to be paid, it’s easy to imagine that the Liberals and Conservatives—and even more so the CAQ—would want to preserve a major economic agreement.

Conversely, a breakdown in negotiations with Newfoundland would fit perfectly into the PQ’s game plan.

Currently, polls show that the Parti Québécois, with 30% of the vote, is just a few seats away from a majority government. If an election were held tomorrow, the PQ would win about 60 seats. It needs 64 to secure a parliamentary majority in Quebec’s National Assembly.

As I reported recently, the Parti Québécois’s rhetoric took a sharp turn about two years ago. The strategy now seems to provoke us whenever it can—whether by invoking “deportations” and “executions” that took place before the founding of modern Canada, or even Canada itself; by citing “mass immigration” imposed by Ottawa (even if Quebec controls most of it); by bringing up the Plains of Abraham; “British colonialism”; or the high-speed train of “Canadian unity.” And now, Labrador.

If this sounds a lot like rage farming, it’s probably because it is.

One could say that Paul St-Pierre Plamondon, the leader of the PQ, has shifted from Génération d’idées, a youth think-tank he founded, to the generation of outrage. Because elections will take place in Quebec on October 5^th. And the PQ needs a majority in order to be able to hold a third referendum on Quebec’s independence.

In theory, a government—even a minority one—controls all the levers of the executive branch and can govern until it decides to bring itself down, as Jean Charest and Pauline Marois did in Quebec, or Stephen Harper and Justin Trudeau in Ottawa. Opposition parties also tend to be relatively compliant, especially if they’re rebuilding, which is often the case for the parties that lost the election.

In practice, it’s easy to imagine that the prospect of another referendum could lead opposition parties to form a united front against a Parti Québécois government—and even to try to bring it down if it stubbornly insists on holding a referendum that most Quebecers don’t want.

Someone in the Parti Québécois has certainly reached the same conclusion, which could explain the rather inflamed rhetoric of the last few months. If PQ activists are mobilized, and if PQ voters turn out just a little more, the Parti Québécois could gain an additional 2 or 3% in support. Simulations have shown that this could be enough to secure a parliamentary majority. (It’s still bonkers to even consider a majority with 32% of the vote. I discuss this here.)

So that’s also part of the reason they’re trying to rile us up about Labrador and the rest.

Time will tell if that’s enough to get Quebecers to go out and protest in Wabush. In the meantime, the PQ’s statements have caught the attention of Newfoundland-and-Labrador Premier Tony Wakeham, who doesn’t seem too eager to reach an agreement before the next election.

That would be a small political victory for the Parti Québécois. As for the “best interests of Quebec,” which the PQ likes to claim as its own, that’s another story.

-30-

This text is 1,927 words long, or roughly eight pages in a book. (1927 is also the year the Privy Council tore Labrador away from Quebec!) It took me a little over two days to research, write, and navigate the Churchill River all the way to the source of our contradictions.

My name is Patrick Déry. I’m a French-speaking Québécois writing for a living, and trying something different here. If you enjoyed reading this text, you can support me by buying me a coffee. You can also subscribe to this media (free or paid, your choice).

Subscribe now

Comments, shares, and “likes” are always appreciated.

(Texte français disponible ici.)

Elections are coming up. And the Coalition Avenir Québec has a huge financial advantage over the other parties.

Of course, since it is in power, the CAQ can choose to hand out pre-election perks, and Premier Christine Fréchette has not held back since taking office in April.

For example, by granting a QST rebate on prepared foods—including granola bars, pre-cut vegetables, four-packs of croissants, and small-sized ice cream, not to mention toilet paper—at a cost of $100 million. Ka-ching!

Or by granting a rebate on the welcome tax for first-time homebuyers, at a cost of $140 million. Ka-ching again!

By granting a $50 discount on registration fees for passenger vehicles, at a cost of $245 million. Ching-ka-ching!

That’s half a billion dollars in public funds in just three months, for measures that will have little real impact on the personal finances of Quebecers.

On the other hand, with every announcement, the CAQ enjoys generous media coverage at Quebecers’ expense. And a second time when the measure takes effect, as was the case with the grocery discount last week. It is hot outside? Don’t worry, “Votre gouvernment” has you covered, and your little tub of Häagen-Dazs will cost 50 cents less!

I’m being cynical, you say? The people who came up with all this are even more so.

The discount on car registration fees will take effect in September. Maybe it’s because the SAAQclic systems need a few more months to adjust. Or perhaps—more likely—because the next election campaign is set to begin in September, and the discount will affect nearly 5 million vehicle owners, which represents more than 80% of voters. The media will be singing the praises of this $50 electoral candy just as the campaign gets underway.

But the CAQ will also benefit from another advantage for the election campaign, for which it can thank the current Minister of Economy, Innovation and Energy Bernard Drainville.

+++++++

About thirteen years ago, Quebec accelerated its shift toward public funding of political parties, after systems of straw donors were revealed in the wake of the Charbonneau Commission.

Three things happened.

The first change was the capping of individual donations to political parties to $100, and to $200 during an election year.

The second change was the addition of a top-up to each donation, namely matching sums. Every time you donate, the government adds a certain amount. The supplement is $2.50 for every dollar donated to a party, for the first $20,000 received. After that, the government matches the donation at a rate of $1 for every dollar, up to a maximum of $250,000 per party in a given year.

Here too, the limit is raised in an election year, meaning that a party can then receive $500,000 in matching sums.

The third change is the increase in the allocation paid to political parties. This is also the change that has had the greatest impact.

Every year since 1977, the government has paid political parties a sum equal to the number of registered voters in the previous election, multiplied by a base amount. The idea was to compensate for the loss of funding from businesses and unions, which had been banned under René Lévesque’s government. At first, this amount per voter was $0.25. In 2012, it was $0.82, before eventually rising to $1.50, after which it was indexed to reach $1.94 in 2025.

Today, the allocation paid by the government to the parties represents the largest portion of political financing in Quebec.

There were 6.3 million registered voters in the last election, in 2022. This means that last year, the various political parties shared a total of just over $12 million ($1.94 × 6,302,789 voters = $12.2 million).

All these measures have cleaned up political party financing, made voters a little more equal, and allowed—at least in theory—political parties to carry out their activities free from any undue external influence.

But there’s a large democratic worm in the apple of political financing: the allocation is distributed in proportion to the votes cast in the previous election. This means that, four years later, the CAQ still receives the lion’s share of those $12.2 million.

In 2022, the CAQ received 41% of the vote. Québec Solidaire, the Parti Québécois, the Liberal Party, and the Conservative Party were virtually tied, having received 15%, 15%, 14%, and 13% of the vote, respectively. (I’m ignoring the decimals.)

Last year, the $12 million allocation paid out by the Chief Electoral Officer was distributed as follows:

The problem quickly becomes obvious. In 2025, the CAQ received an allocation nearly three times higher than that paid to any other party. The picture was the same in 2023 and 2024, after adjusting for inflation: approximately $1.7 million each for QS, the PQ, the PLQ, and the PCQ, and $5 million for the CAQ.

Why should a political party that all polls show is on its way out receive an advantage over the others?

This advantage will be even more pronounced this year. When the election is called, the parties will receive a supplementary allocation equal to $1 per registered voter in 2022, again in proportion to the number of votes they received that year.

This will add $6 million more to the regular allocation—which is itself adjusted for inflation, with the base amount rising to $1.99 in 2026.

For the first ten months of 2026, the breakdown will look like this. (For November and December, the amounts will be adjusted based on the results of the next election.)

By October, the CAQ will receive an additional $2.6 million as a result of this supplementary allocation. The other major parties will receive just under $1 million. Once again, the CAQ’s electoral advantage from four years ago is being perpetuated, out of all proportion to its current support.

For comparison’s sake, here is the percentage of the allocation paid to the parties in 2026, with current voting intentions.

This spring, the CAQ had even dropped to 10% in the polls. Political extinction was on the horizon. But every month, it continued to receive more funding than any other party.

I’ll ask the question again: on what grounds should the ruling party be showered with millions four years after the last election? And all the more so when voters want to see it go?

Not only does our winner-takes-all electoral system give a disproportionate number of seats to the winning party (in 2022, the CAQ won 90 out of 125 seats with 41% of the vote), but it also gives it more money for several years. This advantage is also completely disconnected from the financial backing of the CAQ’s supporters.

In 2023, the CAQ was the party that raised the most donations. This popular support collapsed in 2024 in the wake of the “3^rd Link” farce, the circus leading up to the by-election in the riding of Jean-Talon, and the millions spent on two preseason games of the Los Angeles Kings in Québec City, among other things.

In the first six months of 2026, the CAQ raised barely more in donations than the Conservative Party—which still has to elect its first MNA—, and far less than the Parti Québécois, the Liberal Party, or even Québec Solidaire, a party whose support is faltering.

(Some will note that the Parti Québécois has raised, by far, the highest total in individual donations over the past three years. This is undoubtedly linked to the fact that it presents a genuine political vision—whether one agrees with it or not—and that this vision is not limited to winning the next election. The other parties should take note.)

The CAQ’s setbacks and the collapse of its support have not prevented it from spending more over the past three years or from generating a larger surplus than all the other major parties. Combined.

This is because, despite the decline in support, the CAQ continues to report revenues twice as high as those of its opponents, thanks to public funding.

The figures below are taken from the financial statements of the various parties, available on the Élections Québec website. Depreciation is not treated the same way from one party to another, which has a slight impact on the surplus, but the orders of magnitude remain the same.

The CAQ, despite its unpopularity, can thus afford to spend more than anyone else while increasing its assets.

After eight years in power, the CAQ has more money than it can spend.

This is certainly not what those who laid the groundwork for public funding of political parties in 1977 had in mind.

The problem would be the same if the PQ or the PLQ were in power. This isn’t a partisan issue, but a democratic one. We’ve replaced illegal financing and straw-man schemes with an institutionalized subversion of voters’ intentions.

Where does Bernard Drainville fit in all this?

He spearheaded the electoral financing reform while serving as a minister in Pauline Marois’s government in 2012. At the time, the Parti Québécois could, for a while, hope to form a majority government in the next election, before it stumbled on its own mistakes. I don’t know what those who devised the reform thought at the time, but I can’t completely rule out the possibility that they hoped it would perpetuate their advantage, at least for a while.

In any case, thanks to public funding of political parties, millions are now pouring towards the CAQ. And Bernard Drainville, now a minister and CAQ candidate, will be able to benefit from this in the next election.

+++++++

It wouldn’t be difficult to fix the current system. The first step would be to eliminate the allocation paid in proportion to the vote, which has become both illogical and undemocratic over the years.

To compensate, matching sums would be increased. For example, instead of adding just one dollar in public funds for every dollar in donations—as is currently the case above the $25,000 threshold—the matching rate could be raised to $2 or $3. Political parties’ resources would be preserved, but they would be grounded in political reality.

Such a change would reward, amplify, and encourage individual support. If a party is popular and succeeds in mobilizing its members, it will benefit from additional support.

And if the ruling party repeatedly takes us for fools, no one will be forced to finance it against their will.

-30-

This text is 1,743 words long, which is equivalent to about ten pages of a book, including the tables. Writing this and poring over the financial statements of the various parties and their funding data took me about three days and made me want to donate to the Rhinoceros Party.

My name is Patrick Déry. I’m a French-speaking Québécois writing for a living, and trying something different here. If you enjoyed reading this text, you can support me by buying me a coffee. You can also subscribe to this media (free or paid, your choice).

Subscribe now

Comments, shares, and “likes” are always appreciated.

(Texte français disponible ici.)

This isn’t an article about the 3^rd link. It’s an article about the Quebec Liberal Party’s odd strategy and its sometimes shifting principles. But we’ll take a little detour through the 3^rd link to get there. (Besides, I hear it saves time.)

Before I continue, a clarification. I’m not just some damn Montrealer criticizing the 3^rd link. I was born and raised in Quebec City, where I spent the first thirty years of my life. I’ve crossed the 1^st and 2^nd links several hundred times. And I still regularly return to Quebec City, where I have family and friends. Many of them live on the South Shore of Quebec City, cross the Quebec and Pierre-Laporte bridges regularly, and also think that the 3^rd link is bonkers.

Until recently, the entire liberal caucus was officially against a new tunnel or bridge that would directly connect Quebec City and Lévis. Then, the sole leadership candidate, Charles Milliard, said he supported the project.

And the Liberal Party’s position had, de facto, changed. Fortunately for the QLP, no one asked questions about this second about-face regarding the 3^rd link. (We tend to forget that it was the QLP that officially launched the project in 2017.) As for the liberal MNAs, they haven’t said much about it either. I don’t blame them.

This week, influencer and Liberal candidate Farnell Morisset came out in favour of the 3^rd link, skillfully noting that we need to listen to the experts on how to build it.

The problem is that just about every expert out there recommends… not building the 3^rd link.

First, because current and projected traffic volumes don’t justify it. Cross-river traffic has even declined in Quebec City since the CAQ took office in 2018.

Second, because the redundant bridge would cost at least ten billion in public funds—and likely more—and there is no scenario in which a private partner could realistically finance it. Even the Caisse de dépôt isn’t interested.

We could add to these arguments that the Quebec Bridge would be virtually eternal if we decided to maintain it properly, much like the Golden Gate Bridge, and that the Pierre-Laporte Bridge is still good for at least 50, maybe even 70 years. Taking care of the first two links both be both cheaper and smarter.

Finally, Quebec is saddled with a massive maintenance deficit for its roads, bridges, schools, and hospitals of $50 billion, compounded by an equally massive maintenance deficit for its water infrastructure, also of $50 billion.

That’s $100 billion in overdue maintenance. This total keeps rising because everything is deteriorating faster than we can repair it, and each new year brings new surprises, as we discover new buildings that are in worse shape than what we anticipated.

Not to mention the chronic labour shortage in the construction industry.

In short, we lack the money, shovels, pickaxes, and manpower just to maintain what we’ve already built. And on top of that, we’re adding a costly megaproject that meets no real need to the mix?

CAQ Minister Bernard Drainville would say to “lâchez-nous avec les experts.” (Give us a break with the experts.)

We’d expect better from a member of the Order of Engineers and from the highly versatile popularizer Farnell Morisset, but politics sometimes makes us jump through some strange hoops.

For years, the CAQ has been searching for data and studies to support the 3^rd link without success.

I could devote an entire column to the recurring political nonsense, but that would be a waste of my time and yours. Everything has been said and repeated.

The project meets no real need and is indefensible from the standpoint of urban planning, public finances, and the opportunity costs it represents: the financial and human resources devoted to building the 3^rd link cannot be used to address other needs—ones that are real and pressing.

To justify his surprising defence of the 3rd link—and the about-face he was forcing his party to make—Charles Milliard argued in an interview earlier this year that he had “ambition” for Quebec City, the province’s capital.

Promising a project costing 10, perhaps even 12 or 14 billion, that is not based on any real need, is not “having ambition” for the capital.

It is simply populist. And irresponsible.

+++++++

As I mentioned above, it was the Liberal Party that launched the 3^rd link project under Philippe Couillard’s government.

In 2021, Dominique Anglade torpedoed “François Legault’s tunnel,” while hinting that a Liberal tunnel might be acceptable. Then, in 2022, Anglade dropped the 3^rd link for good, because it was no longer rationally justifiable.

But the project remained popular in Quebec City, and, then as now, strategists within the QLP see it as a political opportunity.

I should mention here that I worked in the office of the leader of the official opposition for a few months in 2021, in a futile attempt to restore the QLP—a party I had never voted for—to the best it had been under Godbout, Lesage, and Bourassa. I was part of the minority who felt the party was losing credibility by clinging to the 3^rd link.

Even today, setting aside the issues of common sense and principles, it still strikes me as a strange strategy, even when solely considering the political aspect.

The Capitale-Nationale and Chaudière-Appalaches regions (the South Shore of Quebec City) are a battleground for five parties. How many additional ridings, out of 18, can the QLP hope to win thanks to its renewed support for the 3^rd link? One? Two? Four?

You’re being optimistic.

Even in Quebec City, the project is less popular than it used to be. Barely 52% of residents in the greater Quebec City area support its current version. But since 68% don’t believe the 3rd link will be built within the next 15 years, it may not carry much weight at the polls.

Regardless, the Liberal Party has been flatlining in Quebec City polls for years. In early July, the QLP stood at 14% across the region, tied with the CAQ. The Conservatives lead with 27%, followed by the PQ at 21%.

Québec Solidaire, at 4%, isn’t a factor, except in Taschereau, the riding that covers downtown Québec City, where the proposed 3rd link is particularly unpopular. (And where Farnell Morisset is running.)

In short, the 3rd link won’t do the QLP any favours in Quebec City. It won’t be any better elsewhere.

There are 107—soon 109—ridings outside the greater Quebec City area. (Quebec has just gone from 125 to 127.)

By adopting the same stance as the CAQ, the QLP is leaving the field completely open to the Parti Québécois, which will have an easy time touring the province, claiming that the QLP and the CAQ are two sides of the same coin. Even in Quebec City, the PQ will be able to rally opposition to the project, while the CAQ, the QLP, and the Conservative Party will split the votes of those who support it.

The PQ’s talking points are probably already written. “Would you rather have ten billion for your hospitals and schools, or ten billion for a bridge to nowhere?”

PSPP must be laughing his head off. So is my friend Pascal Paradis, who gave the CAQ a thorough thrashing in Jean-Talon, particularly on the issue of the 3rd link.

Which brings us to the QLP’s 2026 political platform.

“Regionalist. Nationalist. Federalist.”

Those are Charles Milliard’s words. They also top the QLP’s homepage, where the image at the top of this article comes from. The QLP is also banking on the economy. And the 3rd link.

A regionalist, nationalist, federalist party that focuses on the economy and a proposed 3rd link in Quebec City? This sounds a hell of a lot like the party that has governed us for the past eight years, and which three quarters of Quebecers want nothing more to do with.

And this is how the QLP seeks to differentiate itself?

If I were a Liberal candidate, I’d start to worry.

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My name is Patrick Déry. I’m a French-speaking Québécois writing for a living, and trying something different here. If you enjoyed reading this text, you can support me by buying me a coffee. Comments, shares, and “likes” are always appreciated.

You can also subscribe to this media (free or paid, your choice).

Subscribe now

(Texte français disponible ici.)

I won’t be celebrating Canada Day. I’ve never celebrated it, and I’m not about to start today.

Nor have I ever celebrated Saint-Jean-Baptiste Day. Waving flags while everything that holds our society together is falling apart isn’t my thing. Or, in the case of July 1^st, while a former UN Special Envoy on Climate Action and Finance is throwing the principles he sold us in his book straight into the trash.

Displays of national pride—whether in Quebec City, Ottawa, Washington, or elsewhere—all too often resemble massive distraction campaigns by politicians trying to make us forget their incompetence or their most indefensible maneuvers.

And then, I have this damned habit of always calculating, quantifying, and measuring. Canada’s relative standard of living has been declining for decades; the dysfunction of certain branches of the federal government is legendary; our military, once that of a credible middle power, has become insignificant; more than 150 years after Confederation, we have failed to agree on free trade among the provinces…

Let’s just say that the “fleurons glorieux” and the “true north strong and free” have looked better.

Even though I don’t have a maple leaf tattooed on my heart, I feel no particular animosity toward the Canadian flag and what it represents. Like most of my fellow Quebecers, I even feel a certain pride in the idea of being Canadian. (And even more so when it allows me to say, while travelling, that I’m not American!)

This isn’t unusual. Recent polls show that between 72 and 80% of Quebecers say they are “proud” or “very proud” to be Canadian.

(Since 32% of Quebecers currently support independence, that means up to a third of separatists would also be proud to be Canadian. Why, you ask? It’s complicated.)

There are also several reasons to prefer that Quebec remain a Canadian province rather than become a country.

I mean, aside from the fact that this is what two thirds of us want. An argument from majority is no more valid than the argument from authority, and the majority isn’t always right.

It’s obvious that having full control over one’s destiny has its advantages, no matter what some federalists may say. It’s just as obvious that there would be significant financial repercussions that could affect our standard of living and our public services, no matter what some sovereigntists claim. And besides, creating a country on the thinnest of margins isn’t a winning formula.

But we’ve been debating these arguments for 50 years without really listening to one another, and that’s not what I want to talk about today.

I’d like to point out that, on this Canada Day, Canadians A mari usque ad mare should celebrate Quebec. And that Quebecers should also feel a bit proud of having improved this country that was initially imposed on them.

Because just about everything Canadians love that comes from the federal government was most likely first a Quebec initiative. Because the social conscience of this rather conservative country—which sometimes claims to be progressive—is us.

Tommy Douglas and Saskatchewan gave Canada universal health insurance.

Everything else comes from Quebec.

Of course, it’s a bit embarrassing that it took so long to grant Quebec women the right to vote—in 1940, two decades after the federal government and most provinces—but you’ll see that we made up for it afterward, and then some.

The first law ensuring that women earn the same pay as men for doing the same work was passed by us in 1996. It took the federal government another 25 years to reach the same conclusion. RCMP officers, military personnel, and federal public servants are still waiting.

We were the first to establish a network of subsidized daycare centres back in 1997. It’s imperfect and incomplete, but better than anywhere else in the country. Here, too, the federal government needed another quarter-century to catch up.

Unsurprisingly, Quebec is the province with the highest employment rate for women aged 25 to 44, who are better able to balance motherhood with their personal aspirations than anywhere else in the country. Other Canadian women are beginning to benefit from this as well.

We were also the first to introduce a universal drug insurance plan, back in 1997. The other provinces followed suit.

The first same-sex civil union took place in Montreal in 2002, thanks to a Quebec law that preceded federal legislation by three years.

The first true parental leave program, including exclusive leave for fathers, was introduced here in 2006. Quebec remains a model in this regard.

These firsts aren’t just Canadian—they’re North American.

We were also the first to legalize assisted dying in 2015, and that sparked a debate that reached all the way to the Rockies and beyond.

And there are others, less fundamental but still noteworthy.

Quebec has strictly prohibited advertising aimed at children for nearly 50 years. The rest of Canada is still considering it.

It was also in Quebec that the first public no-fault auto insurance system for bodily injury claims was implemented in 1978, replacing legal proceedings that were as inaccessible as they were uncertain.

As for the right to abortion, we can once again say thanks to a Montreal doctor who made it his cause. This led the Quebec government to announce that it would no longer bring criminal charges for abortions performed in clinics. That was in 1976, twelve years before the landmark Supreme Court decision that decriminalized abortion across the country.

In addition to social progress, Quebec has also pioneered significant democratic advances that have since spread to other jurisdictions.

Quebec was the first province to limit political donations from individuals and to lower the cap on those contributions. That was in 1977. Here, too, the federal government took a few more decades to follow suit.

If you feel that Canada isn’t evolving quickly enough, consider that things could have been much worse without Quebec’s tendency to take its inspiration from continental Europe rather than England or the United States, as most of Canada tends to do.

The most frustrating thing for the Rest of Canada is that most of these advances took place under a government of the Parti Québécois.

Just imagine: if Canada has become what it is today—especially in terms of social policies—it’s largely thanks to the separatists!

+++++++

The same argument applies to Quebecers who dream of independence. Not a big fan of Canada? You might like even less what it would have become without us.

Without Quebec, Canada would have had more Conservative governments, and those Conservative governments would have been quite a bit more conservative. But Quebec prevents that, if only because the parties vying to govern in Ottawa need us.

Whether it’s social policies, environmental policies, or policies regarding the rights of Francophones in other provinces, Quebec’s mere presence in the Canadian federation pulls it toward progressive policies, in the truest sense of the word: those that bring about progress.

All of this is then reflected in Canada’s foreign policy, which is also that of a country where the second-largest province is predominantly Francophone. Abroad, Stephen Harper usually began his speeches in French.

Put another way, being part of Canada may not always be ideal, and the Rest of Canada can be a bit annoying, but a Canada without Quebec would be a far more unpleasant neighbour.

Without Quebec in the last election, Pierre Poilievre would be firmly in control of a majority government. Trump on one side, Poilievre on the other. Does that sound appealing?

In short, Quebec makes Canada better.

Even if it’s not entirely on purpose on the part of Quebec—or of the rest of this strange country—it might be worth giving it some thought on this 159^th anniversary of Confederation.

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My name is Patrick Déry. I’m a French-speaking Québécois writing for a living, and trying something different here. If you enjoyed reading this text, you can support me by buying me a coffee. Comments, shares, and “likes” are always appreciated.

You can also subscribe to this media (free or paid, your choice).

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(Texte français disponible ici.)

Today, Quebec is celebrating. That usually means lots of blue and white flags and lots of music.

I’m not usually a big fan of flags, but I do like our fleur-de-lis flag. For the royal blue—my favourite colour. For its uniqueness, just like the nation it represents. For what it’s meant to inspire, because a flag is ultimately a symbol that evokes an ideal.

I love our music, the soundtrack to our Fête nationale. I’ve worn out my left wrist, my right shoulder, and all ten fingers trying to play along with Piché and Bélanger. I’ve put Ferland and Charlebois through far more than they deserved. And I still hope to be able, one day, to play En Berne by the Cowboys Fringants at the same frenzied pace as Jean-François Pauzé. Or to sing like Leonard Cohen. All of these artists—and others—will be performing all over the place today. And in my heart, too.

Over the years, I’ve come to wonder what exactly we’re celebrating on June 24.

Why do we wave flags? Why do we gather in parks or around bonfires all over Quebec every year, six months before Christmas?

Yes, “we” exist. Some would say against all odds. For my part, I’d say with everyone. As in all those who were there before Jacques Cartier planted his cross in Gaspé, and also all those who came afterward and who continue to arrive even now, and who allow us to carry on. Because without them, we’d already be quietly dwindling away.

Yes, “we” are happy—one of the happiest peoples in the world, apparently.

But we can’t even agree on what we’re celebrating today.

For many of us, June 24 is a perpetual dress rehearsal for the big night that will see Quebec become a country.

For many more of us, it’s the celebration of a province that’s a little different from the rest of an imperfect country to which it must nevertheless continue to belong.

For the vast majority of us, June 24 is, thankfully, a celebration for all those who consider Quebec their home.

For far too many of us, unfortunately, it is merely the celebration of those who can say “poutine” and “tabarnak” without an accent, who venerate the same saints as our ancestors, who blend into the crowd at the Saint-Jean parade without drawing too much attention.

For far too many of us, including some politicians, it’s a celebration for those who answer our eternal existential question—one that will likely never be resolved—in the same way they do. The rest of us will just have to celebrate a week later.

We pretend not to notice these differences too much while we wave our fleur-de-lis flags and listen to music together. Politicians of all stripes wish everyone a happy National Day, even if, deep down, they still secretly resent those who don’t see things the way they do.

This generally turns la Fête nationale into an occasion for an over-the-top display of somewhat hollow tributes to a glorified past. It’s also, to some extent, in the hope of an optimistic—though somewhat vague—future that not everyone envisions in the same way.

But, in practical terms, what are we actually celebrating?

Quebec has consistently had the highest high school dropout rate. Since education is the main determinant of just about everything else, I have a hard time celebrating that.

Our roads, our hospitals, our schools, and our entire public infrastructure are falling apart because we’ve been too foolish to maintain them properly. It would take at least $50 billion to fix everything up.

Recently, we learned that we need to add to that the cost of maintaining our drinking water system, which is leaking everywhere and is in such poor condition that tens of thousands of housing units can’t be built. That’s another $50 billion—so at least $100 billion in total—for all our infrastructure. You wanted to sing? Well, now dance!

And that’s not even counting the fact that the entire system continues to deteriorate faster than we can repair it. In other words, next year, the figure will be even higher. I’m having a hard time celebrating this, too.

Our healthcare system hasn’t been able to properly care for us for a long time now. But while the wait drags on and patients die on waiting lists or are forgotten in the ER, we keep finding all sorts of bonuses to add to our doctors’ paycheques—doctors who are already among the highest-paid in the world. That, too, tends to dampen my national pride.

Six years after a pandemic that was devastating for our seniors, thousands of our most frail elderly are spending the final years of their lives in double, triple, or even quadruple occupancy in a long-term care facility, waiting to die while staring at the ceiling of their room. I’m not sure they’re in the mood to celebrate either.

I could also talk about the way we (mis)treat the most vulnerable our youth in the DPJ—before abandoning them to their fate at age 18, only for them to swell the ranks of our homeless population.

Or how we always find a way to cut the meager funding for community organizations—which do everything the government won’t or can’t do—and thus barely keep our social solidarity afloat.

Or the hundreds of millions wasted every year on botched projects, and the millions more paid out as bonuses to those responsible for the waste. Surprisingly, there’s always money for that.

Meanwhile, just about everything I’ve mentioned above is going to get worse because there will be fewer people to deal with the problems and more problems to deal with—especially because Quebec is aging very quickly.

Instead of planning for this highly predictable and now very imminent future, our politicians’ priority has all too often been to stir us up on one side or the other of a country that will never come to be.

In recent years, a party that was neither for nor against Quebec independence had the “genius” to find a common bogeyman that united both federalists and sovereigntists alike, spending eight years pouring gasoline on the fire of our linguistic and identity-based fears. Anything that isn’t catho-laïque-franco-pure-laine has thus been portrayed as a threat, even though many of these aspiring Quebecers are the backbone of our hospitals and schools, in addition to holding jobs essential to the functioning of our society.

I realize I’m a bit of a party pooper for always focusing more on problems we can measure than on those we like to imagine.

Still, when I see blue and white everywhere on Saint-Jean’s Day, I now tend to wonder whether we’re waving our colours to forget or out of sheer ignorance, and I’m a little less inclined to stand in a park with my fleur-de-lis flag.

And I tell myself that maybe we should replace our flags with shovels and picks, and put on work gloves, because we’ve got quite a chore ahead of us.

It would be nice if, by this time next year, we’d made progress on two or three things.

We could at least celebrate that.

-30-

My name is Patrick Déry. I’m a French-speaking Québécois trying something different here. If you enjoyed reading this text, you can support me by buying me a coffee. Comments, shares, and “likes” are always appreciated.

You can also subscribe to this media (free or paid, your choice).

Subscribe now

(Texte français disponible ici.)

Asking whether Quebec is still a democracy may seem like an exaggeration, given how obvious the answer appears to be. Yet, is it?

What defines a democracy?

Free elections. An electoral system independent of politics. Election results that reflect the will of the people. Effective checks and balances. Respect for minority rights. The rule of law.

Elections in Quebec are free—there’s no doubt about that. The problem is that there’s not much left besides voting every four years.

When politicians draw the line

A new electoral map was recently adopted almost by Quebec’s National Assembly. That seemed like good news, especially since Éric Duhaime, the anti-vaccine conservative leader, did not agree.

But our friend Éric is right. The snag is that Quebec’s MNAs sidelined an independent body they created a few decades ago.

In 1979, the National Assembly established the Electoral Representation Commission (or CRÉ, for Commission the representation électorale, a branch of Quebec’s Chief Electoral Officer). Elected officials thus relinquished their authority to draw the boundaries of electoral districts due to the obvious conflict of interest. One need only look at the United States to appreciate the value of keeping politicians at bay.

In 2011, the National Assembly unanimously reaffirmed “the primacy of the institution known as the Chief Electoral Officer in redrawing the electoral map and [confirmed] that an electoral map established by a bill rather than by the Chief Electoral Officer would be illegitimate.”

“Illegitimate?” Yikes. Yet that is exactly what politicians of all stripes just did.

The CRÉ (we’ll keep using the awful, but convenient acronym) first presented its new electoral map in 2023. Several ridings were redrawn. Two ridings whose populations had significantly declined were eliminated (in the Gaspé Peninsula and eastern Montreal), and two others were added where the opposite had happened (in Centre-du-Québec and the Laurentians).

The CRÉ should have left the Gaspé Peninsula alone…

I don’t want to delve this into the psychology of Quebec’s politicians and why their level of interest and outrage are generally proportional to how remote an issue is from the major urban centres where two thirds of us live—because I’d need at least another 1,000 words—but that’s just how it is. With my regards to the people of Gaspésie.

Quebec’s MNAs thus attempted to delay the adoption of the new electoral map until after this year’s elections, perpetuating inequalities in representation instead of correcting them. The Court of Appeal, followed by the Supreme Court (this spring), declared the maneuver unconstitutional.

No problem. The National Assembly adopted their own map. It seems that just about every party has found a sandbox to protect—one into which they did not want to add too many red, light-blue, orange, or dark-blue voters from a neighbouring riding, which would have upset the delicate balance that had temporarily painted a corner of Quebec in their colour.

The official argument—that of preserving the political weight of Eastern Quebec, or other ridings—is fallacious. It is not the weight of a given territory that must be preserved, but that of the voters. Quebec is changing; its democratic system must adapt.

Instead, politicians chose to knock out one of the safeguards of our democracy. The precedent has been set unanimously. Next time, it could be with a simple majority.

This is not the most serious blow to Quebec democracy, only the most recent, and it illustrates a trend, as we will see: in the past, Quebec’s MNAs were among the guardians of our institutions. Now, they neutralize or circumvent them to their own advantage.

This is an even bigger problem when the composition of the National Assembly itself no longer reflects the will of the voters.

Majority, where hast thou been?

The first thing that comes to mind when we think of democracy is often a Legislative Assembly that reflects the will of the voters. In Quebec, this has not been the case for 60 years, and it keeps worsening.

From the creation of our National Assembly in its current form in 1867 until 1962—that is, until Jean Lesage’s second term—forming a government almost invariably required the support of the majority of the population.

I say “almost” because, between 1867 and 1962, the party that took office had won at least 50% of the vote in 22 out of 27 elections—about 81% of the time. Not perfect, but not too bad either.

The rule became the exception. In the 16 elections that followed—from 1966 to the present—only two were won with a majority of the voting.

This means that, for the past 60 years, the morning after an election, a majority of Quebecers are on the losing side. That’s bonkers. (The same goes for Canadian elections, and, I would guess, many other provinces.)

In Quebec, “majority” governments have thus taken office with barely 40% of the vote. In 2018, the Coalition Avenir Québec secured a “majority” with 37% of the vote, setting a new low.

In the next election, the Parti Québécois could win a majority of seats with just 32% or 33% of the vote. Things are still moving, but the scenario is entirely plausible, and it is likely that this would have happened if elections had been held earlier this year.

Just let that sink in: a “majority” government that two thirds of us would have voted against. That’s bonkers, too.

Just name one other situation in life where a “majority” decision can be made with 37%, let alone 32% of the vote. It would not be acceptable in a classroom or a beer league. But that’s the way democracy works here.

Some will say this is normal because of our first-past-the-post (FPTP) electoral system and the split vote among five parties. Rather, it’s proof that our NPAA (not-proportional-at-all) electoral system, which dates back several centuries, wasn’t designed to accommodate the emergence of new parties. That’s why very few countries have adopted it in the last 100 years.

It’s also why Quebec politicians, from René Lévesque to François Legault, including Jean Charest, had sought to change it when they were in opposition—only to abandon the idea once it benefited themselves…

It would be a lesser evil if the checks and balances were effective. That is no longer the case.

Checks put in check

The executive branch. The legislative branch. The judicial branch. Our parliamentary democracy is based on the separation of powers among these three branches, which serve as checks and balances on one another so that the democratic will of the voters is heeded, while also preventing abuse and arbitrariness.

That’s the theory. In practice, the executive branch swallowed up the legislative branch a long time ago. Recently, it has also swallowed up the judicial branch. Gulp.

Originally, the executive branch—the decision-makers—was represented by the Cabinet. Today, power is concentrated in the hands of the Premier and a few individuals in his inner circle. Under François Legault, a close advisor like Martin Koskinen had more power than many ministers. But that is still not too far from how it was originally supposed to work. The problem is with the legislative and the judiciary.

In principle, the Legislative Assembly (or “National,” in Quebec), which is composed of members from across the political spectrum, makes laws and holds the government—the executive branch—accountable. MNAs from a given party hold their own ministers to account, ask (real) questions, and even sometimes vote against their own party. This happens elsewhere, notably in the UK and the US.

In Quebec, like elsewhere in Canada, party discipline means that members of the ruling party behave like houseplants. The government ends up doing just about whichever it wants over the course of four years, unless it’s a minority government. And even then.

The recent end of the legislative session, which saw the current government abandon several bills, is more of an exception and an example of poor planning than the rule. (The suspension of the session, made necessary by Mr. Legault’s resignation as a Premier, didn’t help.)

In practical terms, party discipline has all but wiped out the National Assembly and the legislative branch.

That leaves the judicial branch—the courts. The Quebec Charter of Rights and Freedoms solidified and expanded judicial review of the validity of laws and government actions. (We’ll skip over the Canadian Charter, which Quebec never ratified.) For more than 40 years, members of the National Assembly from all parties have consistently voted unanimously in favour of amendments to the Quebec Charter, with very rare individual exceptions. And no one dared to deviate from our Charter, much less suspend it preemptively.

A lesser-known fact is that Quebec’s Charter has a generally wider scope than its federal counterpart, as it applies to relations between private individuals, and not only between individuals and the government.

The CAQ did not think much of that. It gutted and suspended our Charter by a simple majority vote, using a gag rule to cut off debate—notably to pass Bills 21 and 96. Worse still, these suspensions of our fundamental rights were carried out preemptively and on a broad scale, as articles 1 to 38 of the Charter were neutralized. Zap.

What is the connection between the preemptive suspension of the right to a fair trial, or the protection against an unreasonable search, and a language law, you would ask? None whatsoever, but the CAQ took no chances. The target is the courts and the so-called government of the judges.

Nationalist and somewhat reactionary legal scholars used the concept of “parliamentary sovereignty” as a pretext to legitimize this war in the courts. The concept has a different meaning in the United Kingdom, where the Constitution is a patchwork of laws, conventions and customs that has never been codified. Here, however, it amounts to the neutralization of a countervailing power that had existed since the Magna Carta, and the return of political arbitrariness.

The Parti Québécois, which could form the next government, shows no sign of reversing course, even though the Quebec Charter was a great source of pride for René Lévesque, its founder:

“In 1975, the people of Quebec adopted a charter of human rights and freedoms that remains, to this day, one of the most comprehensive in the world. Such a charter is the quintessential instrument for affirming a people’s values. It expresses both their most fundamental convictions and the choices and trade-offs—not always easy ones—that must be made in any society. It guarantees every person the minimum conditions necessary to exercise their freedoms.”

But today’s representatives of the Parti Québécois remember Lévesque only when it suits them.

Minority rights in their sights

Some say that democracy is the tyranny of the majority. This is a poor analogy because true dictatorships almost always arise from the will of a grassroots movement, which generally represents the majority. What truly distinguishes democracies is respect for the majority’s will, but above all, respect for the rights and freedoms of minorities.

As we have seen, it has now been 60 years since the will of the majority has been the deciding factor in bringing a party to power. As for the rights of minorities, the CAQ has made them dependent on political whim. Here again, the PQ seems intent on continuing down this path.

In Quebec, whether you belong to a linguistic, religious, or immigrant minority, you have become a political target. All sorts of justifications have been invoked to infringe upon your fundamental rights, but none has been supported by evidence of a rational connection or the effectiveness of the restriction in achieving the law’s objective.

That does not mean that other (political) objectives have not been achieved.

Why prevent a government employee from communicating with an immigrant in their language if they are capable of doing so? Why ban a school cafeteria worker or volunteer from wearing a hijab? Why send back immigrants who are already settled here, speak French, and provide an essential part of the workforce? One is led to believe that the pettiness of these measures is their primary objective.

What rule of law?

In the past, successive Quebec governments made efforts to respect our laws—above all, the Quebec Charter—and deferred to the courts.

Now, our government is amending the Charter, suspending its application, and neutralizing the courts.

This spring, Quebec nearly became the first democracy whose Constitution would have taken away more rights from its citizens than it would have granted. Every Quebec Premier since Jean Lesage would have been horrified by this. Not the CAQ, some of whose ministers even considered passing the new constitution by using a gag rule.

+++++++

Quebec still holds elections every four years. The media and the opposition sometimes manage to stir up enough of a fuss to make the government look foolish and eventually backtrack.

But generally speaking, the Cabinet—even the Premier’s office—decides just about everything. The legislature is under its thumb, institutions are bypassed, the judiciary is neutralized, and political will takes precedence over the rule of law.

All of this with barely 40% of the vote. And soon, with perhaps even less.

Quebec is far from being China or Russia. But from an institutional standpoint, there are fewer and fewer differences between La Belle Province and illiberal democracies, such as Hungary under Viktor Orbán, or even Donald Trump’s United States.

The tone may be different, but all the pieces are in place for a group determined enough to break the conventions that ensure the primacy of institutions to seize the levers of power for themselves. This, in fact, is essentially what we have been witnessing for the past eight years.

Quebec is certainly not a dictatorship. But it is just as certainly sliding toward something that is no longer quite a parliamentary democracy based entirely on checks and balances and the rule of law—as was still the consensus just a few years ago.

At the very least, we have entered a phase where the exercise of power consists less in advancing society as a whole than in the appropriation of its levers by ideologues seeking to impose their vision.

This can even go so far as a lame duck government attempting to enshrine its ideology within the fundamental structures of our society by permanently altering them, as the CAQ attempted to do with its draft constitution.

That was only the first round. Now that the method has been proven effective, others will use it.

-30-

This text is 2,456 words long, which is about 10 pages of a book. I hope you liked it.

My name is Patrick Déry. I’m a French-speaking Québécois trying something different here. If you enjoyed reading this text, you can support me by buying me a coffee. Comments, shares, and “likes” are always appreciated.

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