The Promise of Compromise
Holidays and the beginning of semesters are times to read books that catch our interest and have no relation to our everyday obligations. This holiday was about running, hiking, kayaking, bodyboarding, drinking rum made from coral filtered spring watered sugar cane and aged in Kentucky oak barrels for 12 years, and spending time with my family in a far-away land. It was also about two books: Charles Taylor's the Sources of Self and Graham Fraser's Sorry I don't Speak French. I had to relinquish Taylor's book to my brother, so it is Fraser's book that I haven't been able to put down.
Sorry I Don't Speak French is, in part, the story of the language divide in Canada since the 1960s. The title is indicative: the intended audience is the unilingual anglophone. The truth is the language divide is exacerbated by the fact that each group communicates its grievances primarily in its own language, primarily to its own group, and largely ignoring the incomprehensible grievances of the other. Graham crosses this divide by bringing the full story to the anglo reader. More to the point, Graham's book points out that objectively, the major grievances rightly belong to French Canadians, who have had to justify something that the rest of us have never had to try and justify: why we act, think and talk the way we do.
This book has especial poignance for me. I was a product of the immersion push. I travelled to Québec as a child, crossed the St-Lawrence by ferry and played with other children in their language. I later went to a truly bilingual university (despite all the normal complaints of imperfect bilingualism) and took all of my courses in French, lived in a francophone residence, worked in a bilingual Parliament and worked as a French language monitor. After joining the army, I was assigned to the Royal 22e Régiment, the historic French language regiment that was the first truly French language military unit in the regular force since Confederation. One could almost say that the bilingual dream has marked my destiny, forming patterns that I saw as personal choices, but that now seem like inevitable conclusions of a deep-seated commitment to the big country that stretches from the North Pole down to the 49th parallel. In that sense my terrible, romantic pseudo-nationalism is geographic. But it is also deeply rational. I do not imagine that a Canada can exclude the peoples that inhabit it. I do not imagine believing in a country that includes peoples who I do not understand, and who do not understand me. That is why I chose to speak French. That is why I suffered the odd looks of store clerks who thought my anglo-accent affreux. That is why I took twice as long to do my readings in university in my second language.
No one alive today fought the battle at the Plains of Abraham, that grassy place that is now a federal park where children run and play under the supervision of both federal and provincial flags. There is no reason that those long past sins cannot be buried in the building of a new national myth. That myth is partially constructed, and is in need of much support. The promise of compromise is real. My true New Years Resolution is that every anglo in Canada read that book.
My friend Dan Fournier once told me something that I'll never forget: "Sorry means that you'll never do it again."
Sorry I Don't Speak French is, in part, the story of the language divide in Canada since the 1960s. The title is indicative: the intended audience is the unilingual anglophone. The truth is the language divide is exacerbated by the fact that each group communicates its grievances primarily in its own language, primarily to its own group, and largely ignoring the incomprehensible grievances of the other. Graham crosses this divide by bringing the full story to the anglo reader. More to the point, Graham's book points out that objectively, the major grievances rightly belong to French Canadians, who have had to justify something that the rest of us have never had to try and justify: why we act, think and talk the way we do.
This book has especial poignance for me. I was a product of the immersion push. I travelled to Québec as a child, crossed the St-Lawrence by ferry and played with other children in their language. I later went to a truly bilingual university (despite all the normal complaints of imperfect bilingualism) and took all of my courses in French, lived in a francophone residence, worked in a bilingual Parliament and worked as a French language monitor. After joining the army, I was assigned to the Royal 22e Régiment, the historic French language regiment that was the first truly French language military unit in the regular force since Confederation. One could almost say that the bilingual dream has marked my destiny, forming patterns that I saw as personal choices, but that now seem like inevitable conclusions of a deep-seated commitment to the big country that stretches from the North Pole down to the 49th parallel. In that sense my terrible, romantic pseudo-nationalism is geographic. But it is also deeply rational. I do not imagine that a Canada can exclude the peoples that inhabit it. I do not imagine believing in a country that includes peoples who I do not understand, and who do not understand me. That is why I chose to speak French. That is why I suffered the odd looks of store clerks who thought my anglo-accent affreux. That is why I took twice as long to do my readings in university in my second language.
No one alive today fought the battle at the Plains of Abraham, that grassy place that is now a federal park where children run and play under the supervision of both federal and provincial flags. There is no reason that those long past sins cannot be buried in the building of a new national myth. That myth is partially constructed, and is in need of much support. The promise of compromise is real. My true New Years Resolution is that every anglo in Canada read that book.
My friend Dan Fournier once told me something that I'll never forget: "Sorry means that you'll never do it again."
posted by Lt Smash at 9:45 PM
3 Comments:
That was probably the best pitch for Liberal candidate hopeful for Outremont that I've heard so far.
but doesn't Justin T have it sown up by virtue of T'mania and birthright?
To answer Denial, my time has not yet come.
To answer Dr. Dirt, JT's time has not yet come. That being said, there is nothing to prevent the blind leading the blind, or unqualified people from leading the undiscerning.
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