Melting-pot or Mosaic? Canada’s peculiar multiculturalism

Canada has a peculiar twist on multiculturalism: unlike the idea of a “melting-pot” that most “New World” countries refer to, in Canada we often talk about a mosaic, or to be more specific, “Trudeau’s mosaic / la mosaïque trudeauiste.” Pierre-Elliott Trudeau was the prime minister of Canada at a time of great modernisation, which included a major effort to make the country much more democratic and egalitarian. He is widely regarded as the leading contributor to Canada’s Constitution.

Trudeau, in a moment of joy over patriation of Canada’s constitution, performed his now famous pirouette at Uplands Airport here 4/18 /82 following the Queens’s departure for London after the 4-day state visit which climaxed with the proclamation of the Constitution Act, 1982. (CP Photo/Andy Clark). Source.

Although he didn’t come up with the metaphor, wandering around the streets of Canada’s major cities, and especially Montreal, it’s easy to see why the concept would appeal to this Pine Avenue resident: from one block to another, Montrealers draw mental borders based on language, religion, ethnicity and, of course, social class. Then there is the overlay of the “Two Solitudes,” a vision of Canada whereby English-speakers and French-speakers do not take interest in each others’ point of view, much less interact with it. Finally, we have our fractured federal system.

The idea of a mosaic may have been appropriate in the 20th century, but is it today? Again, walking around Montreal, you will still see and hear people of different cultural communities, but the vast majority of these communities do not huddle away. Just in terms of language alone - our favourite point of reference - 120 different mother tongues are spoken in this city. The fact that Canada’s second largest city is the most multilingual metropolis in North America speaks for itself. In most of the rest of the country, where Canadian bilingualism is on much less of an even footing, the mosaic metaphor is even less pertinent.

Perhaps Trudeau was particularly keen to minimise accusations of pushing an assimilation agenda as he encouraged Canadian bilingualism. One of the many links between the movements to protect the French language and for Quebec sovereignty is the threat of being folded into English-speaking Canada, much like other cultural minority currently are. This threat does in fact have a historical root in actual Canadian policy: the 1838 Durham Report.

On that note, let’s take a step back and think about what a mosaic is. Colourful tiles that are not usually particularly valuable or meaningful when taken alone, but when pushed and cemented together, they form a magnificent vision. However, if the mosaic is not carefully maintained, mold and bacteria will infiltrate, the cement will eventually crumble, and pieces will begin to fall off. Maybe Trudeau was right after all.

An ode to Canada, Montreal and the Jewish General Hospital

Jenny Chukhovich of Westmount wrote this beautiful text about her grandfather’s life. One of the reasons why this country is so culturally and socially rich is that we have been able to welcome amazing people to a new life in Montreal. Every day, they contribute in subtle - and sometimes not so subtle - ways to our society.

My grandfather, Lazar Chukhovich, was born November 13, 1926. In 1944, at age 17, he voluntarily quit high school to attend military school to become a sniper. In August 1944, my grandfather was serving in the Red Army to defend his motherland and the countries of Eastern and Central Europe against Nazis. He took part in, amongst others, the liberation of Budapest and Vienna. By the end of the war in 1945, he had achieved the rank of Lieutenant. He is the recipient of many medals for his courageous war efforts.

After the war, my grandfather returned to school and became an architect. He married my grandmother in 1957 and they had two sons. In 1966, my grandfather played an important role in helping to rebuild his hometown of Tashkent, UZ following the famous Tashkent earthquake. 

My grandparents emigrated to Canada in 2000. At the age of 73, my grandfather stubbornly tried to learn a language completely foreign to him - French. My grandfather became an active member of the Soviet War Veterans community of Montreal and continues to receive a hand-written letter from the Prime Minister of Canada every year, wishing him a happy birthday and many more years to come.

Yesterday night, my grandfather, who has never had any cardiac problems in his life, suffered a heart attack.

Thanks to the efficient and competent care of the staff at the Jewish General Hospital, my grandfather was discharged from the hospital this evening and has safely returned home.

My grandfather will be celebrating his 86th birthday next month. I am extremely thankful to God and to modern medicine for having my grandfather with us today.

Image: Jewish General Hospital, Côte-des-Neiges, Montreal. Source: Wikimedia

Gatineau: Quebec’s maligned lovechild with Canada reveals all

This article is the result of special collaboration with Apartment 613, an Ottawa-based entertainment and lifestyle blog and radio show. Reviews of restaurants, bars and shops visited on the research trip and a copy of Fuck Yeah Gatineau broadcast on CHUO will soon be made available on their website.

Sometimes you’ll see the expression “Québec-Canada” written: it’s usually not a redundancy, but rather a codeword that suggests Quebec and Canada are on the same standing and that reveals the political aspirations of the person or institution using it. It is shorthand for everything and anything associated with the Quebec sovereignty-association movement, including the questioning of the distribution of wealth in Canada, the idea that Quebec is French-speaking and the rest of Canada is not, and the belief that government intervention can fix everything. FuckYeahQuebec.com doesn’t get into politics - especially not language or constitutional politics - but when you’re talking about Gatineau, the province’s third largest city, it’s hard not to.

The Gatineau region seen from Ontario, with Ottawa in foreground. Credit: Daniel Raillant-Clark

Gatineau implies Ottawa. Even if you tried your hardest (and many people in Quebec do), you can’t ignore the fact that these are twin cities, in an albeit almost false sense of the term. Ottawa, the oft-overlooked epicenter of British North American politics, positioned on a princely precipice overlooking the Outaouais or Ottawa River, a spot chosen by Queen Victoria herself. Canada’s masterpiece looks sideways at Gatineau, a muddle of municipalities merged in the 2000s in a rush of modernisation managed in the best revolution tranquille style (i.e. top-down), of which the former city of Hull was and is the most known and identifiable place. More important than the physical barrier that separates the two is the psychological one that overlays it: the national-provincial border.

The gorgeous lookouts along the Ottawa side offer the opportunity to gaze upon Hull, and from this angle you can admire a façade of effectively nameless and monolithic modernists hulks nay hives for federal employees. In other words, it looks like the Upper Canada side. In other words, this poised glimpse of Quebec doesn’t really reveal anything about what Gatineau is or was.

Gatineau seen from Ottawa. Credit: CBC.

It is in fact very easy to walk or cycle across one of the bridges to get a proper look, but despite claims to the contrary, your correspondent gets the feeling that not many tourists do (other than to perhaps visit one of the federal museums slotted along the river bank.)  Crossing the Portage or Booth Street bridges takes you through the ruins of the Domtar (Dominion Tar) paper mill, an echoing introduction to the “have-not” half of Canada’s National Capital Region.

Hull sector of Gatineau, Quebec. Credit: Daniel Raillant-Clark

Domtar these days is effectively owned by the Government of Quebec and has its headquarters in Montreal, which seems strangely appropriate as the way Hull and Ottawa operate today evokes stories of Montreal of yore, where English, money and a form of secularism reigned in the Western half of the city, and French, labour and catholic mysticism dominated life in the East. “We’re in Quebec now, we should speak French,” I overheard. Not many English-speaking Quebecers would favour that sharp dissection of our social and physical geography, and not many French-speaking federalists would appreciate the non-dit implication (that Ottawa is for speaking English.)

Hull sector of Gatineau, Quebec. Credit: Daniel Raillant-Clark

In any event, Hull does feel like the Eastern part of Montreal, and in particular the areas around the Port of Montreal and the Molson Brewery: small apartment blocks and homes clustered as closely as practicable to industry. It in fact looks poorer, but it does not have the sometimes menacing atmosphere created by Hochelaga-Maisonneuve’s sex and drug trade. On the contrary, in fact. The strip on rue Eddy, with its lively bars and restaurants strangely shoved into awkwardly adapted buildings, is an incredibly, honestly and earnestly warm, welcoming, and unpretentious place to be. A great place to get started and make a friend is the Café aux Quatre jeudis. Welcome to Quebec.

Aux quatre jeudis with federal government buildings in the background. Credit: Jean-Sébastien Chevrier

Both the Federal and Provincial Governments have taken turns altering the hemlines and seams of the Gatineau region’s urban fabric, each in their own very specific way. The Federal government’s plonked installations look and act more or less like UFOs, settled on planet Quebec with the intention of increasing the border region’s economic (and ergo political) dependence on the Confederation. And the Government of Quebec has tried with the stroke of a distant pen to contrive community where there is none, yet another failed call to unity in order to achieve a mystical and blurry immediate-yet-unattainable goal. In other words, the layout of Gatineau is unnatural, and so the city’s gems are scattered about much like proverbial diamonds in the rough. Apartment 613 offers reviews of some of these hidden pearls - in particular, your correspondent recommends the gourmet ice-cream sandwiches chez Edgar, which can only be described as orgasmically satisfying.

“Odile”, an excellent gourmet restaurant owned and managed by the same chef as “Edgar”, co-habitates in a former house with second-hand appliance store. Credit: Daniel Raillant-Clark

Quebec’s relationship with Ontario, English-speakers relationships with francophones, and Gatineau’s relationship with Ottawa are incredibly more complex, sophisticated and dynamic than the red-blue tit-for-tat all-or-nothing dichotomy that continues to exist in the popular collective imagination of many French-speaking Quebecers and anglophone Ontarians. And so it is with Gatineau itself: beyond the Hull neighbourhood is a wonderful mix of stunning nature, storied history and multicultural suburbs. Gatineau is blessed with the Gatineau River, of which the “Queen’s chain” forms a stunning and massive wildlife park, driven like a wedge into the heart of urban sprawl. Following the river up in to the mountains brings the explorer to Old Chelsea and then Wakefield, two delightful, bilingual villages nestled into the unspoiled wilderness that surrounds them that are renown for their cultural vibrancy and historical heritage.

Wakefield, Quebec and the Gatineau River. Credit: Daniel Raillant-Clark

Gatineau is all too often ignored by Ontarians as being too much of the “other” and reviled by Quebecers for more-or-less the same reason (with a healthy dose of stereotypes about government towns thrown in for good measure). In your correspondent’s opinion, that’s a damn shame because Gatineau and the communities it represents have a lot to offer Quebec and Canada. What’s your opinion?

Make love, not war!

Love will always win the day in Montreal, especially as the year progresses and the climate gets hotter, steamier and… well, plain sexier! And so although spring is protest season in Quebec’s true capital, the city’s best barista, Sars Lawls née Lawlor , has been putting her people skills to work to help relieve some tension in the streets. To put it another way, she’s helping people find love - and consequently sex - at the demonstrations.

Her new blog, Parc Laff, sets out what to wear in order to set yourself apart within a heaving human sea of uniformity. Parc Laff takes its name for Parc Lafontaine, which is in  normal times a wonderful haven of respite from the shrill beat of urban and life, but like the proverbial Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide, can rapidly become the epicentre of conflict when things go rotten in Quebec society. Probably the most infamous conflict to happen there was Lundi de la matraque (Baton Monday) which took place on June 24, 1968, the day before a federal election. 290 people were arrested and 128 people were injured on Saint-Jean Baptiste Day, the national holiday for French-speaking Canadians. Demonstrations against the federal government turned violent, and but the Prime Minister, Pierre-Elliot Trudeau, famously stood his ground on the stage. “Je déteste la violence. Démocrate, je n’admets pas qu’une infime minorité d’agitateurs tente de chasser à coups de pierres les invités de la majorité,” he later wrote in his memoires (I hate violence. As a democrat, I cannot accept that a tiny minority of agitators armed with stones would try to chase away those who had been invited by the majority.) 

And so it is in this spirit that Ms. Lawls writes “If you’re like me and love to go to a nice night demonstration is the beautiful streets of Montreal, this will give you a good fashion base for the summer of red and black. For the terribly trendy Manif Date night try a nice tailored jacket.”

She also offers a number of hints for being sexy - and political - in environments that may not normally permit such a provocative combination, like the office. Madame Lawlor is already deftly attracting the attention of the crowd: @manifdating has already given the thumbs-up to her testosterone-tempting textile teases.  So, Tumblr today, Flare by Friday (or perhaps more likely Vice on Vendredi)? Time will tell! 

Top image: June 24, 1968, across the street from Parc Lafontaine. Source: Alain Cognard.  Bottom image: Watermelon Blazer, £65.00 from TopShop, sourced from Parc Laff.