When I arrived in Canada 35 years ago, Quebec City was my first home. I spent seven years in that cold but vibrant community, marvelling at its rich history, fantastic vistas, and (to my ear at least) delightfully strange accent. The city welcomed me with its independent spirit and its joie de vivre.
I live in Toronto now, but Sunday night’s events struck me like a knife through my heart. When I heard about the terrorist attack, I immediately began calling friends to make sure they were safe.
I was devastated to learn one of the victims was someone I knew. We were both students from Morocco studying at Laval University in the 1980s, and although we did not know each other well, we played soccer together from time to time. We both came to Quebec and to study and decided to stay to build a life there. My life eventually brought me to Toronto. His life, along with five others, was senselessly cut short on Sunday.
As a spokesperson for the Canadian Arab Federation, I am very familiar with anti-Arab and anti-Muslim racism. I have been an advocate for the community, and on anti-racism generally. Time and time again I have been called upon to defend Arabs and Muslims as a group because of the crimes of individuals. I have had to painstakingly remind others that Arabs and Muslims are proud Canadians too — that we go to hockey games and Tim Hortons, that we grumble about Highway 401 traffic and shovelling snow — and that we as a group should not be judged by the actions of a few extremists who don’t represent us or our values.
The Quebec City terrorist attack has put things in a different light for me. I will say that it is extremely heartening to see people and politicians in Quebec and across the country braving the winter cold to show their support, and to tell Muslims we are part of Canadian society, and we belong here. It gives me hope.
But that hope is tempered by the longer-term trends I’ve noticed, and the public discourse I’ve heard from some of the same politicians now marching in support in the streets. Over the last decade and a half, the national conversation about immigrants — and specifically Arab and Muslim immigrants — has taken a dark turn.
Debates about reasonable accommodation and Quebec’s so-called Charter of Values have tapped into a virulent current of racism against Arabs and Muslims (and anyone else who looks like them). That sentiment is very real, even if it isn’t always apparent. The message has been that Muslims and Arabs are worthy of suspicion, that we cannot be integrated, that our values are un-Canadian. And now, because of it, we cannot even feel safe in our own communities, even while at prayer.
Thank you to everyone who has shown support for our community in this difficult time. It is appreciated. But more is needed than nice words or reassuring gestures; we need accountability. That starts with the talk-show demagogues in Quebec and elsewhere spewing hatred under the guise of freedom of expression and freedom of the media.
As a former journalist, I recognize that these are important values. Nonetheless, they can never justify hate propaganda and incitement to commit hate crimes. And I firmly believe this is what happened here.
As shocking as this barbarous act was, it did not come out of nowhere. The very same mosque had been the subject of a hateful act last year, when a pig’s head was left on its doorstep. This was not freedom of expression; this was a deliberately Mariobet symbolic act meant to insult, hurt, and intimidate. History has shown us how similar, seemingly isolated acts can escalate into madness.
That’s why it’s not enough to feel bad about what happened, to march in support, or to make heartfelt and well-intentioned posts on social media. Those acts are all welcome, but they are not enough to uproot the very real anti-immigrant and ant-Muslim sentiments that have taken hold in some sectors of Canadian society.
I am devastated. At the same time, I am also angry — and afraid. My friends, my family, my young nieces — are they safe here in Canada? Are any of us?
Now, today, we as a society must act. My former classmate, Azzedine Soufiane, cannot. Neither can Khaled Belkacemi, Aboubaker Thabti, Mamadou Tanou Barry, Ibrahima Barry and Abdelkrim Hassan. Nor can those still lying in hospital beds, or the grieving children and families left behind. It’s up to us now.
Nice words and reassuring gestures are not enough …
Mohamed Boudjenane is the acting president of the Canadian Arab Federation.
Mohamed Boudjenane is the acting president of the Canadian Arab Federation.
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