logo
Hanes: Bill 40 appeal shows the Legault government has learned nothing

Hanes: Bill 40 appeal shows the Legault government has learned nothing

By
Whenever a new fracas erupts between the government of Premier François Legault and the anglophone community, Eric Girard, the minister responsible for relations with English-speaking Quebecers, is dispatched to try to patch things up.
Recently, he admitted that new directives issued last summer that suggested eligibility certificates for education in English could be used to access health care in English were ' not our finest moment' and that he was 'disappointed' at how the whole saga played out.
Previously, Girard acknowledged that tuition hikes for out-of-province students that disproportionately harmed Quebec's English universities had ruffled feathers, and he vowed to smooth things over.
When he was appointed to the portfolio in 2022 after the angst surrounding the adoption of Bill 96, Quebec's update of protections for the French language, Girard promised to allay fears and 'do better.'
'When I say we need to do better, I mean we need to improve relations,' he told The Gazette back in the early days of his tenure.
But time and again, these prove to be empty promises. Because actions speak louder than words.
And even though it was less than a month ago that Girard called for the latest reset, the Legault government has demonstrated the depth of its contempt for the rights of English-speaking Quebecers anew by announcing its intention to appeal the latest ruling on Bill 40 all the way to the Supreme Court of Canada (if the top court agrees to hear it, that is).
The attempt to abolish English school boards and replace them with service centres was one of the first bones of contention between the anglophone community and the Legault government after it was first elected in 2018.
The Quebec English School Boards Association launched a constitutional challenge of the law immediately after its passage and has since won two resounding victories.
Both Quebec Superior Court and the Quebec Court of Appeals have agreed that Bill 40 is a violation of Section 23 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms and affirmed the rights of the English-speaking minority to manage and control its own schools. Both courts have categorically said that transforming school boards into service centres like their francophone counterparts, centralizing many of their decision-making powers in the ministry of education, and axing the elected councils of commissioners run counter to those constitutional guarantees.
But the Legault government is forging ahead trying to defend the discredited law.
At this point, there is no principled reason to drag this out — and no pragmatic imperative, either.
Quebec's English school boards obtained an injunction in 2020, keeping them intact for the duration of the legal proceedings. For five years they have continued to operate as they always have, overseen by elected representatives from the community, alongside French service centres. At this point the government's argument that it can't have two different systems for running French and English schools doesn't really hold water.
In fact, there is growing concern that francophone service centres, administered by parents drawn from local school governing boards, lack transparency and accountability.
And since Bill 40 was adopted five years ago, Education Minister Bernard Drainville has grabbed even more authority from service centres, like the power to appoint their directors general and overturn their decisions.
The English school boards have already proven their management and control rights — twice. But the Legault government just won't let it go. Are they gluttons for punishment? Or is this merely a continuation of the pattern of antagonizing the English-speaking community?
So often over two mandates in office, the premier or his ministers say one thing and do another. Legault claimed nothing would change for anglophones under Bill 96, yet there has been major upheaval.
English colleges now have quotas for francophone and allophone students and new French course requirements, which has left them destabilized. English versions of government and public websites now have warnings about who is allowed to consult the content, which is an insult to intelligence. English court documents and decisions must be accompanied by French translations, which are costly and time-consuming, impeding access to justice. And these are just a few examples.
The rights of anglophones are either complete afterthought or collateral damage. A year ago, when new rules on simultaneous translation of court judgments came into effect, a Quebec Court judge on the verge of presiding over an English criminal trial had to convene representatives of the prosecution service and attorney general's office to get basic information on how this was supposed to work. He was essentially told there was no plan and things were still being figured out. For his efforts, he was the subject of a complaint to the judicial council for overstepping his authority. He was later totally exonerated. His decision declaring the new regulations inoperable for English criminal trials is being appealed, however.
The list of slights goes on and on. Yet concerns are frequently dismissed as the rantings of 'angryphones' acting like the world's most spoiled minority — until the government gets egg on its face over something truly ludicrous.
Whether it's having to intervene on the Go Habs Go fiasco, override a library's decision not to allow an English book club to meet without simultaneous translation or rewriting the confusing health directives, each incident erodes trust.
If Girard was at all serious about wanting to rebuild confidence with English-speaking Quebecers, there was one, simple, concrete gesture the government could have made that would have gone a long way and meant a lot in laying the groundwork for a truce: not appealing the Bill 40 ruling to the Supreme Court.
Instead, the Legault government couldn't resist fighting a losing battle to the bitter end.

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

Kananaskis golf course getting ready for G7, possible Trump visit
Kananaskis golf course getting ready for G7, possible Trump visit

Winnipeg Free Press

timean hour ago

  • Winnipeg Free Press

Kananaskis golf course getting ready for G7, possible Trump visit

KANANASKIS – Darren Robinson had some very important news to tell U.S. president George Bush and José María Aznar, the prime minister of Spain. The pro shop was open. Aznar had told Robinson, general manager of the Kananaskis Country Golf Club in Alberta's Rocky Mountains, that he wanted to visit the shop. True to his word, Robinson walked over to the two world leaders on a patio and interrupted their conversation. 'What was probably only 10 seconds felt like 10 minutes,' Robinson recalled of the G8 leaders' summit in 2002 in Kananaskis. He said the pair paused their discussion, and Bush waved over British prime minister Tony Blair. The four then talked about golf, running, the mountains, as the other leaders, including Russian President Vladimir Putin, chatted ahead of a dinner at the golf club. 'I'm like, somebody pinch me. It's really happening,' Robinson said. Twenty-three years later, Robinson is again teeing up to possibly host some of the world's most powerful people for the G7 leaders' summit in Kananaskis set for June 15-17. The golf club is included in the tightly controlled perimeter that will be closed to public access during the summit and is one of two primary locations the leaders could use. The summit is being hosted by the Pomeroy Kananaskis Mountain Lodge, a short drive from the course. There's speculation U.S. President Donald Trump, with his known affection for golf, could tee off on the scenic course that sits at the foot of Mount Kidd. Trump even owns Kananaskis Country Golf Club merchandise. Prime Minister Mark Carney gifted the president a hat and gear from the club during his first White House visit in early May. Requests for comment to the White House and the Prime Minister's Office about whether Trump or Carney would get in a golf game at the summit were not returned. The summit's itinerary hasn't been shared publicly. And if history informs Robinson's expectations, any activities involving leaders at the course would be spontaneous. Robinson remembers one afternoon in 2002, when he mentioned to Jean Chrétien, touring the club before an upcoming dinner, that it was a shame the prime minister didn't have time to play. '(Chrétien) says, 'Who says I don't have time?' And he starts taking off his tie and jacket,' said Robinson, mimicking Chrétien's French accent. Chrétien hit two clean shots on his way to the putting green, said Robinson. But on the third shot, a short chip to get on the green, the prime minister accidentally nicked a divot out of the grass before making contact with the ball. 'Before the ball even stops rolling, he reaches into his pocket, drops another one, hits that nicely onto the green,' Robinson said. 'And then he looks at me and says, 'I call that a Clinton.'' Chrétien, after dropping the reference to former U.S. president Bill Clinton, played three more holes before getting back to work, said Robinson. He added that several interactions he had with Bush were personal highlights of the summit. It was a year after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. U.S. staffers asked Robinson to draw up a five-kilometre loop the president could run the next morning. When Bush arrived early the next day in his sneakers, he asked if a woman at the club dressed in athletic gear would jog with him, said Robinson. Monday Mornings The latest local business news and a lookahead to the coming week. 'Now I'm filming the two of them walking up. And president Bush says to me, 'You set me up with an Olympic runner.'' Months later, Robinson received a manila envelope in the mail from the White House with a letter signed by Bush thanking him for the stay and a photo of the two of them talking on the club patio. This year, Robinson said he'll be on the course waiting to help, but isn't expecting a 2002 repeat. 'You hope that there's any opportunity to have some similar and memorable experiences,' he said while standing at a tee box overlooking the 16th hole on the course. 'If they happen, great. That would be wonderful. And if they don't, they don't.' This report by The Canadian Press was first published June 6, 2025.

WWII veterans speak of sacrifice and freedom on France's D-Day battlefields, 81 years later
WWII veterans speak of sacrifice and freedom on France's D-Day battlefields, 81 years later

Winnipeg Free Press

time4 hours ago

  • Winnipeg Free Press

WWII veterans speak of sacrifice and freedom on France's D-Day battlefields, 81 years later

OMAHA BEACH, France (AP) — The D-Day generation, smaller in number than ever, is back on the beaches of France where so much blood was spilled 81 years ago. World War II veterans, now mostly centenarians, have returned with the same message they fought for then: Freedom is worth defending. In what they acknowledge may be one of their last hurrahs, a group of nearly two dozen veterans who served in Europe and the Pacific is commemorating the fallen and getting rock-star treatment this week in Normandy — the first patch of mainland France that Allied forces liberated with the June 6, 1944, invasion and the greatest assembly of ships and planes the world had known. On what became known as ' Bloody Omaha ' and other gun-swept beaches where soldiers waded ashore and were cut down, their sacrifices forged bonds among Europe, the United States and Canada that endure, outlasting geopolitical shifts and the rise and fall of political leaders who blow hot and cold about the ties between nations. In Normandy, families hand down D-Day stories like heirlooms from one generation to the next. They clamor for handshakes, selfies, kisses and autographs from WWII veterans, and reward them with cries of 'Merci!' — thank you. Both the young and the very old thrive off the interactions. French schoolchildren oohed and aahed when 101-year-old Arlester Brown told them his age. The U.S. military was still segregated by race when the 18-year-old was drafted in 1942. Like most Black soldiers, Brown wasn't assigned a combat role and served in a laundry unit that accompanied the Allied advances through France and the Low Countries and into Nazi Germany. Jack Stowe, who lied about being 15 to join the Navy after Japan attacked Pearl Harbor in 1941, said he gets 'the sweetest letters' from kids he met on previous trips. 'The French people here, they're so good to us,' the 98-year-old said, on a walk to the water's edge on Omaha. 'They want to talk to us, they want to sit down and they want their kids around us.' 'People are not going to let it be forgotten, you know, Omaha, these beaches,' he said. 'These stories will go on and on and on.' The dead honored with sand At the Normandy American Cemetery that overlooks Omaha, the resting place for nearly 9,400 American war dead, workers and visitors rub sand from the beach onto the white gravestones so the engraved names stand out. Wally King, a sprightly 101-year-old, wiped off excess sand with a weathered hand, resting the other atop the white cross, before saying a few words at the grave of Henry Shurlds Jr. Shurlds flew P-47 Thunderbolt fighters like King and was shot down and killed on Aug. 19, 1944. In the woods where they found his body, the townspeople of Verneuil-sur-Seine, northwest of Paris, erected a stele of Mississippi tulip tree wood in his memory. Although Shurlds flew in the same 513th Fighter Squadron, King said he never met him. King himself was shot down over Germany and badly burned on his 75th and last mission in mid-April 1945, weeks before the Nazi surrender. He said pilots tended not to become fast friends, to avoid the pain of loss when they were killed, which was often. When 'most veterans from World War II came home, they didn't want to talk about the war. So they didn't pass those experiences on to their children and grandchildren,' King said. 'In a way, that's good because there's enough unpleasantness, bloodshed, agony in war, and perhaps we don't need to emphasize it,' he added. 'But the sacrifice needs to be emphasized and celebrated.' When they're gone With the march of time, the veterans' groups are only getting smaller. The Best Defense Foundation, a non-profit that has been running veteran trips to Normandy since 2004, last year brought 50 people for the 80th anniversary of D-Day. This year, the number is 23. Betty Huffman-Rosevear, who served as an army nurse, is the only woman. She turned 104 this week. The group also includes a renowned romantic: 101-year-old Harold Terens and his sweetheart, Jeanne Swerlin, were feted by France's president after they tied the knot in a symbolic wedding inland of the D-Day beaches last year. D-Day veteran Jake Larson, now 102, has made multiple return trips and has become a star as 'Papa Jake' on TikTok, with 1.2 million followers. He survived machine-gun fire when he landed on Omaha, making it unhurt to the bluffs that overlook the beach and which in 1944 were studded with German gun emplacements that mowed down American soldiers. 'We are the lucky ones,' Larson said amid the cemetery's immaculate rows of graves. 'They had no family. We are their family. We have the responsibility to honor these guys who gave us a chance to be alive.' As WWII's survivors disappear, the responsibility is falling on the next generations that owe them the debt of freedom. 'This will probably be the last Normandy return, when you see the condition of some of us old guys,' King said. 'I hope I'm wrong.'

Ivory Coast opposition leader Thiam is excluded from the list of presidential candidates
Ivory Coast opposition leader Thiam is excluded from the list of presidential candidates

Toronto Star

time12 hours ago

  • Toronto Star

Ivory Coast opposition leader Thiam is excluded from the list of presidential candidates

ABIDJAN, Ivory Coast (AP) — Ivory Coast 's main opposition leader Tidjane Thiam, a former CEO of Credit Suisse, has been excluded from the final list of presidential candidates along with three other prominent opposition candidates, the electoral commission said Wednesday. Ivory Coast is set to hold a highly contested vote in October. Earlier this year, a court ruled that Thiam was not eligible to run because of his dual Ivorian-French nationality, a decision that Thiam vowed to fight. Born in Ivory Coast, Thiam received French nationality in 1987 but gave it up in March. Ibrahime Coulibaly-Kuibiert, president of the electoral commission, told reporters on Monday: 'If the courts have ordered removal, we will comply.' ARTICLE CONTINUES BELOW Thiam, president of the Democratic Party of Ivory Coast, won the party's primary in an uncontested vote. He was widely seen as the main challenger to President Alassane Ouattara, who won in 2020 after a disputed election left dozens dead and opposition candidates boycotted the election. Other prominent opposition candidates excluded from the vote include former president Laurent Gbagbo, his close ally Charles Ble Goude, who was charged with crimes against humanity related to the civil war, and the former prime minister and rebel leader Guillaume Soro, who was sentenced in absentia to life in prison for organizing a coup. The Democratic Party of Ivory Coast said the exclusion was 'unfair' and called for national demonstrations 'to defend democracy.'

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into the world of global news and events? Download our app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store