Carney, the Conquest, and the Official Lie

The Quebec Government Steps In

Quebec’s Minister of the French Language, Jean-François Roberge, was among the first to react, and he did not hesitate to sharply criticize the federal prime minister’s remarks. On social media, he accused Mark Carney of rewriting history by portraying the Conquest as the beginning of a partnership and adaptation rather than assimilation. His ironic and scathing message serves as a reminder that just two days earlier, Carney had urged Quebecers to stop living a lie and asserted that the power of the less powerful begins with honesty.

The leader of the Parti Québécois, Paul St-Pierre Plamondon, was even more scathing. At his party’s convention in Saint-Hyacinthe, he asserted that Carney’s speech is part of a long tradition of colonialism that began with Lord Durham. According to him, colonialists treat Quebecers as a problem and believe that to solve this problem, institutions must rewrite history and take actions that, in the long term, will erase Quebec’s distinctiveness.

When I hear PSPP talk about this colonialist tradition, I can’t help but think of all those times I was made to feel that my very existence was a problem for Canada. Every time a federal politician comes to explain to us how we should understand our own history, that same logic resurfaces. We’re told that we’re too sensitive, that we’re misinterpreting things, that we need to learn to be more Canadian. But how can I be Canadian when being Canadian means denying who I am?

The Bloc Québécois Demands an Apology

In Ottawa, Bloc Québécois members of Parliament also reacted strongly. Leader Yves-François Blanchet stated that Carney knows nothing about Quebec and its history, and that he owes a sincere apology to all Francophones in Quebec and Canada. In a scathing statement, he mocked the notion of collaboration by recalling the dark moments in Canadian history: the ban on French in schools, the Durham Report, which suggested the assimilation of a people without history or culture, the hanging of Louis Riel, the October Crisis, and all the referendum shenanigans.

Reactions are not limited to politicians. Historians, intellectuals, and ordinary citizens have also spoken out to denounce what they perceive as an attempt at historical revisionism. Many point out that while certain measures did indeed help preserve the French language and culture, they were never the result of a desire for partnership, but rather of concessions wrested by the Quebec resistance and pragmatic political calculations.

This call for an apology leaves me perplexed. Of course, I’d like Carney to apologize, but would that change anything? Apologies aren’t enough when they aren’t accompanied by a genuine acknowledgment of reality. What we need isn’t words, but concrete actions that recognize our right to exist as a distinct people. As long as Canada continues to view us as just another province—albeit a slightly more exotic one—nothing will truly change.

The Reality of the Conquest of 1759

The Battle of the Plains of Abraham on September 13, 1759, marked a decisive turning point in the history of North America. In just a few hours of fighting, General James Wolfe’s British troops defeated the French army led by the Marquis de Montcalm. Both generals died on the battlefield, and New France came under British control. This marked the end of more than a century of French presence in North America and the beginning of a new era for the descendants of French settlers.

The following year, the surrender of Montreal sealed the fate of New France. Under the Treaty of Paris of 1763, France officially ceded its North American possessions to Great Britain. For French Canadians, this meant a transition from one colonial empire to another, with all the uncertainties and fears that entailed. Their language, religion, customs—everything that made up their identity—was suddenly threatened by a new ruler who shared neither their language nor their culture.

Whenever I think back on that period, I am struck by the resilience of my ancestors. Imagine for a moment: you have lived in a French-speaking country for generations; you have built your life, your family, and your community—and suddenly, you are subject to a foreign authority that understands nothing about your way of life. Yet they survived. They preserved their language, their faith, and their culture, against all odds. It is this resilience that has made us who we are today, and it is this history that Carney is trying to make us forget.

British Attempts at Assimilation

Contrary to what Mark Carney’s remarks suggest, the first decades following the Conquest were not marked by a desire for partnership, but by serious attempts at assimilation. The Royal Proclamation of 1763 imposed English law and sought to encourage British immigration to dilute the Francophone population within an Anglophone majority. The Test Oath, which barred Catholics from holding public office, was clearly intended to marginalize the French-Canadian elite.

Later, the Durham Report of 1839, following the Patriotes’ rebellions, explicitly recommended the assimilation of French Canadians, whom it described as a people without history or literature. The report proposed uniting them with the Anglophones to form a single British population. Not all of these recommendations were implemented, but they clearly show that assimilation—not partnership—was the primary objective of the British authorities for a long time.

Durham and his colleagues saw us as a problem to be solved, not as potential partners. This mindset has never truly disappeared; it has simply transformed, adapting to the political realities of the moment. Today, we no longer hear talk of direct assimilation; instead, we hear talk of partnership, unity, and collaboration. But the goal remains the same: to make us disappear as a distinct people, to dilute us into the greater Canadian whole until we are nothing more than a folkloric memory, a tourist curiosity for passing visitors.

The Argument for National Unity

In the face of the uproar in Quebec, some Liberals have attempted to defend Mark Carney by emphasizing that his speech was primarily aimed at promoting Canadian unity. Joël Lightbound, the Prime Minister’s liaison for Quebec, stated that different historical perspectives are at odds with one another and that what matters is to focus on the message of national unity, particularly given the current international instability. Marc Miller, Minister of Canadian Identity and Culture, added that the Prime Minister had always spoken in good faith.

Jean-Yves Duclos, the Member of Parliament for Québec-Centre who stood alongside Carney during the speech, wrote on social media that the Prime Minister had spoken about Québec’s history with sincerity and respect. Other Liberals, such as Steven Guilbeault, declined to comment directly on the substance of the remarks, focusing instead on the external threats currently posed by the United States.

This defense leaves me both sad and angry. Sad because I see people I respect—Quebecers who should know better than anyone what the Conquest represents—aligning themselves behind a distorted version of our history. Angry because this defense confirms that even within Quebec, there are those who are willing to sacrifice our collective memory on the altar of Canadian unity. Unity at what cost? At the cost of our identity? At the cost of our truth?

The Limits of the Liberal Interpretation

Some analysts note that while Carney’s interpretation may be defensible from a strictly factual standpoint, it significantly downplays the suffering and hardships experienced by Quebecers since the Conquest. Charles Milliard, a candidate for the leadership of the Quebec Liberal Party, has also indicated that Mark Carney’s remarks warrant significant nuance, rejecting the idea that Quebec benefited from a partnership with the British.

Several historians also point out that while concessions were made to French Canadians—notably through the Quebec Act of 1774—they were not motivated by a desire for partnership but by pragmatic considerations. British authorities realized they could not sustainably govern 70,000 French-speaking Catholics against their will, especially with unstable American colonies to the south. These concessions were therefore tactical, not philosophical.

What fascinates me about this liberal defense is its ability to completely ignore the emotional dimension of our relationship with history. Carney and his defenders speak of our history as if it were an academic subject, debated in classrooms, whereas for us, it is alive; it is present in every word we speak, in every gesture we make. Our history is not a subject of study; it is who we are. To deny it is to deny ourselves.

Revisionism as a Political Tool

Paul St-Pierre Plamondon asserted that Carney’s speech can only lead to Quebec independence, a statement that reflects the depth of the divide between Quebec and Canadian perceptions of history. For the PQ leader, as for many Quebecers, this attempt to rewrite history is part of a long tradition that seeks to treat Quebecers as a problem rather than as equal partners.

This accusation of historical revisionism is serious and deserves careful examination. Rewriting history does not necessarily mean inventing facts, but can involve selecting, interpreting, and presenting facts in a way that serves a particular political agenda. In Carney’s case, the choice to emphasize partnership rather than domination, and adaptation rather than assimilation, clearly reflects a vision of Canada as a country of cooperation among peoples.

When I see how our history is presented in Canadian textbooks and how it is popularized in the English-language media, I understand what “rewriting history” means. We are portrayed as citizens of a multicultural country, as one minority among many, when in fact we are a founding people; we have our own history, culture, and language. This marginalization is not accidental; it is systematic, and it serves a specific purpose: to make us accept our status as a docile minority within a larger whole that transcends us.

The Dangers of Historical Simplification

History is complex, made up of nuances, contradictions, and gray areas. Reducing it to a simple narrative of partnership and collaboration—as Carney’s speech implicitly does—not only distorts it but also deprives us of important lessons. Acknowledging the dark aspects of our shared history, including domination and attempts at assimilation, does not mean rejecting Canada as a whole, but it is necessary to build an authentic relationship based on truth.

Historical truth must never be sacrificed on the altar of political unity. On the contrary, it is precisely by candidly acknowledging the mistakes and injustices of the past that we can hope to build a more just and equitable shared future. Trying to erase the uncomfortable parts of history does not make them disappear; it buries them under layers of denial that eventually resurface in an even more explosive way.

I often get the impression that Canada is afraid of its own history. It is afraid to face up to what it has done to Indigenous peoples, what it has done to Quebecers, and what it continues to do to all minorities who do not fit perfectly into its ideal multicultural model. This fear creates a constant need to tell itself a heroic story—a story where everyone is a partner, where everyone collaborates, where there are neither winners nor losers. But this story is a lie, and like any lie, it eventually backfires on those who tell it.

The Resilience of a People

Despite Mark Carney’s remarks and the attempts to rewrite history that they represent, Quebec’s identity remains strong and vibrant. This identity was forged through adversity, through resistance to assimilation, and through the determination to preserve a language, a culture, and a way of being in the world that are uniquely its own. For Quebecers, the Plains of Abraham do not symbolize the beginning of a partnership, but rather the starting point of an ongoing struggle for survival that continues to this day.

The survival of French in North America is, in itself, a small historical miracle. Unlike other conquered peoples who saw their language and culture disappear within a few generations, Quebecers have managed to endure, to thrive, and to create a modern and dynamic society in their own language. This success is not the result of a benevolent partnership, but of centuries of resistance, political struggles, and cultural and linguistic demands.

My language is not a gift that Canada gave me; it is a victory that my ancestors wrested from oblivion. Every word I speak, every sentence I write, is a victory against those who would have liked to silence us. This pride—this awareness of belonging to a people who have survived against all odds—is what keeps me standing firm in the face of rhetoric like Carney’s. They can rewrite history in their textbooks and in their public speeches, but they cannot rewrite what I feel deep in my gut when I say the word “freedom.”

The Diversity of Quebec Perspectives

It is important to note that the Quebec reaction to Carney’s remarks is not unanimous. While some see this speech as an insult, others may view it as a sincere—albeit clumsy—attempt to acknowledge Quebec’s contribution to Canadian history. Quebec society itself is divided on the issue of its relationship with Canada, and this diversity of viewpoints is reflected in the reactions to the prime minister’s speech.

However, what is striking about this controversy is the depth of emotion it stirs up. Even those who might be inclined to see the glass as half full acknowledge that Carney’s words struck a raw nerve, reawakening wounds that have not yet healed. This historical sensitivity is not a sign of weakness, but a testament to a vibrant and engaged collective consciousness.

What moves me most about this controversy is seeing how it resonates with the conversations I have with my loved ones, my friends, and my colleagues. Everyone has their own story, their own relationship with that distant past that nevertheless continues to haunt us. Some are angry, others are weary, and still others are simply sad. But no one is indifferent. It is this lack of indifference that gives me hope. As long as we still feel history in our bodies, as long as it continues to stir us, we will not disappear.

Beyond the Immediate Controversy

The controversy sparked by Mark Carney’s speech on the Plains of Abraham will eventually fade from the headlines, but the questions it raises will remain. How can a country build its future on a distorted view of its past? How can peoples who share the same territory develop authentic relationships without agreeing on the narratives of their shared history? These questions are not purely academic; they lie at the heart of Canada’s social and political cohesion.

Quebec and Canada are at a crucial juncture in their relationship. The old federal model—based on the centralization of power in Ottawa and a homogenizing vision of Canadian citizenship—is being challenged from all sides. Demands for recognition, autonomy, and respect for distinct identities are growing more urgent. In this context, the way history is told and understood becomes a major political issue.

When I look to the future, I see no easy solution. Canada will not change overnight; it will not suddenly acknowledge the truth of our history and the legitimacy of our aspirations. But I refuse to despair. Because in every Quebecer who resists, in every word of French that is spoken, in every gesture of solidarity that is made, there is a seed of freedom. Truth will always ultimately triumph over lies—not because lies are less powerful, but because truth is more necessary.

Toward Authentic Recognition

To move beyond this controversy and build a healthier relationship between Quebec and Canada, we may need to start by acknowledging that historical truth is not monolithic—that different peoples can have different memories and interpretations of the same events. A genuine partnership cannot be imposed through a unilateral rewriting of history; it must be built on mutual respect and the recognition of differences.

Mark Carney’s remarks had at least one merit: they shed light on the deep divisions that continue to exist in the Canadian understanding of Quebec’s history. Perhaps this new awareness will, in the long run, lead to a more authentic dialogue—one based not on idealized narratives but on the courageous acknowledgment of historical realities. It is in this direction that we find hope for a shared future that is not built on denial.