Rise of the Separatists

"Dastardly!" cried Opposition Leader John Diefenbaker in Ottawa's House of Commons. He had just learned that a band of armed men had invaded a Quebec armory and made off with a truckload of Canadian army weapons. It was the third such raid in less than a month, and Diefenbaker asked what was being done to "protect our armed forces." Another Opposition speaker sarcastically demanded assurances that the RCAF's new Bomarc missiles would not be stolen as well. Embarrassed officials of Prime Minister Lester B. Pearson's government could only reply that security measures were being tightened at armories all over Quebec. In their zeal, soldiers even paid a midnight call on a fashionable prep school and took away the cadets' World War I drill rifles.

The armory raiders were no ordinary thugs but members of a terrorist organization called the Quebec Liberation Army, operating in the French-speaking province. Its aim is to blast Quebec free from the rest of English-speaking Canada and set up an independent nation. In the past year the terrorists have dynamited army installations, planted time bombs in mailboxes, and now they are stealing guns. Total haul so far: 92 rifles, 30 submachine guns, three antitank bazookas, four field mortars, 17,200 rounds of ammunition.

Lip Service. Small and shadowy, the ALQ probably numbers only a handful of Quebec's 5,500,000 citizens. But each bomb blast and armory raid dramatizes a cause whose aims, if not means, arouse the sympathy in many French Canadians--Quebec separatism.

When Canada gained Dominion status from Britain in 1867, the French third of the country was guaranteed its own language, Roman Catholic religion and cultural identity. To French Canadians, it was supposed to be a "bicultural" nation. Yet they complain that English Canada pays only lip service to the idea. They resent what they consider second-class citizenship.

They have a point. While French Canadians comprise 30% of the population, they hold barely 13% of government jobs; only Quebec provides complete public schooling in French as well as English. French Canada's industry and natural resources are dominated by outsiders from the U.S. or English Canada. Economically, the rest of the country boomed, while in the 1940s and 1950s Quebec lagged--partly through its own doing. The late Premier Maurice Duplessis ruled the province as a corrupt, inbred fief.

One of Prime Minister Pearson's first acts when he took office last year was to appoint a Royal Commission on Biculturalism to recommend ways to develop "the basis of equal partnership." But feelings run deep, and, partly spurred by the rise of Charles de Gaulle's France to new prominence, more and more French Canadians are openly talking about a separate Quebec. Yet the fear of economic hardship, among other things, discourages many Quebeckers from taking separatism seriously--it would be a "disaster," says Quebec's Premier Jean Lesage. On its own, however, Quebec is seeking capital from the U.S. and trade ties with France, in 1961 opened a $340,000 Maison du Quebec in Paris.

Victory by '67. Aside from the ALQ terrorists, several organizations have been formed in recent years, drawing a few thousand supporters whose fanaticism alarms the more moderate nationalists. Says Rene Levesque, Quebec's Minister of Natural Resources and a longtime champion of French rights: "There are men behind me who make me feel nervous."

Last fall a new monthly magazine called Parti Pris (Option Taken) appeared in Montreal, offering poetry and revolution; after five issues, it has a circulation of 3,500. "Quebec society has entered a revolutionary phase," declared Issue No. 1. "It is ready to take all means, not excluding violence."

Equally shrill is the Nationalist Independence Rally, once headed by Marcel Chaput, 45, a former government biochemist. Several months ago, Chaput embarked on a 34-day Gandhi-like fast and raised $100,000 for the separatist movement that he confidently predicts will win out before Canada reaches its centennial of Confederation in 1967. Last week Dr. Chaput drew angry cries of treason after he issued a warning to Queen Elizabeth, who plans to visit Canada next October. "Some of my people," he said, "are ready to let her know--and brutally--that she is no longer welcome in French Canada."

Despite threats and occasional bombs, the Canadian Confederation is certainly in no real or immediate danger. But Quebec separatism is no longer idle talk.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.