A woman shovels snow from around her car following a winter storm in Montreal, Wednesday, March 15, 2017. (Graham Hughes/CP)
Controversy that erupted in Quebec immediately after this piece was published caused the author to write a Facebook post, which can be found here.
We also wish to correct two errors of fact. Due to an editing
error, a reference in an earlier version of this piece noted that “every
restaurant” offered two bills. We have clarified this to say “some
restaurants will offer you two bills.”
We have also removed a reference in an earlier version noting that “bank machines routinely dispense fifties by default.”
Major public crises tend to have one of two effects on a society. In
the best cases, they serve to reveal the strength of the latent bonds of
trust and social solidarity that lie dormant as we hurry about the city
in our private bubbles—a reminder of the strength of our institutions
and our selves, in the face of infrastructure. Such was the case in New
York after 9/11, and across much of the northeast during the great
blackout of 2003.
But sometimes the opposite occurs. The slightest bit of stress works
its way into the underlying cracks of the body politic, a crisis turns
those cracks to fractures, and the very idea of civil society starts to
look like a cheapo paint job from a chiseling body shop. Exhibit A: The
mass breakdown in the social order that saw
300 cars stranded overnight in the middle of a major Montreal highway during a snowstorm last week.
The fiasco is being portrayed as a political scandal, marked by
administrative laziness, weak leadership, and a failure of
communication. And while the episode certainly contains plenty of that,
what is far more worrisome is the way it reveals the essential malaise
eating away at the foundations of Quebec society.
Compared to the rest of the country, Quebec is an almost
pathologically alienated and low-trust society, deficient in many of the
most basic forms of social capital that other Canadians take for
granted. This is at odds with the standard narrative; a big part of
Quebec’s self-image—and one of the frequently-cited excuses for why the
province ought to separate—is that it is a more communitarian place than
the rest of Canada, more committed to the common good and the pursuit
of collectivist goals.
But you don’t have to live in a place like Montreal very long to
experience the tension between that self-image and the facts on the
ground. The absence of solidarity manifests itself in so many different
ways that it becomes part of the background hiss of the city.
To start with one glaring example, the police here don’t wear proper
uniforms. Since 2014, municipal police across the province have worn
pink, yellow, and red clownish camo pants as a protest against
provincial pension reforms. They have also plastered their cruisers with
stickers demanding “libre nego”—”free negotiations”—and in many cases
the stickers actually cover up the police service logo. The EMS workers
have now joined in; nothing says you’re in good hands like being driven
to the hospital in an ambulance covered in stickers that read “On
Strike.” While this might speak to the limited virtues of collective
bargaining, the broader impact on social cohesion and trust in
institutions remains corrosive.
We’re talking here about a place where some restaurants offer you two
bills: one for if you’re paying cash, and another if you’re paying by a
more traceable mechanism. And it’s not just restaurants and the various
housing contractors or garage owners who insist on cash—it’s also the
family doctor, or the ultrasound clinic.
Maybe all this isn’t a huge deal. Sure, Quebec does have
the largest underground economy as a proportion of GDP in Canada, but it’s only slightly bigger than that of British Columbia. But if you look at the results from
Statistics Canada’s 2013 General Social Survey, which looks at the broad measures of social capital of the sort made famous by Robert Putnam’s
Bowling Alone, his book about the collapse of the American community, the numbers for Quebec are disheartening.
For example, the residents of this province also report the smallest
family and friend networks in the country. The proportion of people who
report having zero close friends is highest in Quebec, and quadruple
that of people living in top-rated Prince Edward Island. And while 28
per cent of Quebecers over the age of 75 report having no close friends,
the average for the rest of the country is a mere 11 per cent. It goes
on: When it comes to civic engagement, rated by levels of volunteering
and membership in groups and organizations, Quebec ranks dead last. The
volunteering number is particularly shocking: the national volunteer
rate is 44 per cent, while Quebec’s is 32 per cent. The only other
province below the national average is New Brunswick at 41 per cent.
Then there’s the classic measure of trust, where people are asked,
straightforwardly: “generally speaking, would you say that most people
can be trusted or that you cannot be too careful in dealing with
people?” Only 36 per cent of Quebecers say that most people can be
trusted; the national average is 54 per cent, and no other province
clocked in at less than 50 per cent.
Some of this will be defended on the grounds that it is part of what
makes up the province’s unique character. Sure, some restaurants will
offer you two bills. Don’t be so uptight! It’s part of the place’s
charm, along with the love of prog rock and the mandatory jaywalking.
But the numbers show that it is close to inconceivable that this could
happen anywhere else in the country. For most of these figures, Quebec
isn’t just at the lower end of a relatively narrow spectrum: rather,
most of the country is bunched up, with Quebec as a significant outlier.
At some point, charm and uniqueness betrays itself as serious
dysfunction—and the famous joie de vivre starts to look like nihilism.
And then a serious winter storm hits, and there is social breakdown
at every stage. In the end, a few truckers refuse to let the towers move
them off the highway, and there’s no one in charge to force them to
move. The road is blocked, hundreds of cars are abandoned, and some
people spend the entire night in their cars, out of gas with no one
coming to help. Forget bowling alone. In this instance, Quebecers were
freezing, alone.
Andrew Potter is the Director of the McGill Institute for the Study of Canada.
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nun, er WAR der Direktor, denn heute ist er von seinen Funktionen zurückgetreten.
Im Grunde hat er, wenn ich den Artikel richtig interpretiere, ja lediglich angemerkt, daß Quebec, insgesamt, ein:
"korrupter Haufen von inkompetenten, egoistischen, asozialen und letztlich einsam vor sich hinsterbenden Menschen sei, in einer absolut dysfunktionalen und unterentwickelten Gesellschaft voller sozialer Versager."
Das hat er aber leider in einem Blatt gesagt, welches scheinbar von einigen Menschen gelesen wird. In Quebec. So etwas soll es noch geben - hier und da.
Bißl heftig.
Vertrauen?
Ich "traue" den Quebecern eigentlich schon - und in weiten Teilen.
Ich finde die Montrealer sogar meistens extrem höflich. Mir wird immer die Tür an der Metro/U-Bahn aufgehalten. Wo gibt es denn noch sowas? Alle Welt entschuldigt sich ständig für irgendwas - total respektvoll. Niemals würde sich irgendjemand an einer Warteschlange vordrängeln. Niemals. Stoisches warten, eher wie die Briten.
Wenn du mit dem Auto nicht aus dem Schnee rauskommst hilft dir immer jemand. Oben am Chalet, also in der Pampa, sind die Leute sogar noch viel hilfsbereiter. Also, ich denke die Zivilgesellschaft hier scheint, insgesamt, in Ordnung zu sein.
Es besteht Rechtssicherheit und die Türen der Häuser stehen (im Sommer) alle offen. Die nachbarliche Gemeinschaft ist ausgezeichnet und ich habe auch weitestgehend Vertrauen in die Institutionen.
Korruption?
Problematisch. Wird aber angegangen und aufgearbeitet. Betrifft auch traditionell eher die "südeuropäischen Einwanderer mit Nachfahren". Die "kleine Steuerhinterziehung", kennen wir glaube ich alle, die gibt es auch in Deutschland und z.B. in Südtirol. Im täglichen Leben gibt es, meiner Beobachtung der letzten 20 Jahre zufolge, kaum Korruption oder ausgeprägte "Vetternwirtschaft". Ziemlich "straight forward", wie man sich das von unseren Staatsdienern wünscht.
Inkompetenz?
Eigentlich nicht. Oft nicht ganz so effizient und organisiert wie die Deutschen aber ansonsten gut ausgebildet, relativ gut strukturiert und durchaus kompetent.
Dysfunktional?
Anderst halt. Aber das meiste funktioniert schon, irgendwie. Busse, Bahn und Flugzeuge sind extrem pünktlich. Auf die Minute meist. Außer bei Schneesturm. Bißchen viel Bürokratie hie und da, bißchen Kompetenzwirrwarr zwischen den drei staatlichen Ebenen und zwischen den einzelnen Ministerien. Straßenbau und Ausschilderung können sie nicht - oder halten es für nicht Wichtig. Aber alles Andere schon.
Egoistisch?
Kann ich auch nicht bestätigen. Nahezu jeder Bürger hier ist irgendwie oder irgendwo in eine soziale Sache eingebunden oder macht ein bißchen "Volunteer" Arbeit. Es wird eigentlich schon meistens eher der soziale Konsens gesucht - auch zwischen den Parteien und diversen Interessengruppen.
Also keine Panik auf der Titanic.
Der Typ welcher den Text geschrieben hat, war wohl eher einer der "ewig gestrigen, frustrierten Anglos einer vergangen Zeit". Man muß, meiner Meinung nach, keine Angst haben vor den Quebecern oder sich Sorgen machen um die hiesige Gesellschaft.
Auf gut Fränkisch: paßt scho.
