The new version is more than a mere clarification. It reads like a complete repudiation of the previous effort.
English-speaking Quebecers who happen to have eligibility certificates can stow them back in the safety deposit box before their next doctor’s appointment.
The Quebec government of Premier François Legault on Monday made good on a promise to rewrite controversial directives issued this summer suggesting health services in English would only be dispensed to so-called “historic anglophones” who qualify for education in English. Although the government repeatedly denied this was the case, Minister of the French Language Jean-François Roberge finally conceded the policy needed to be clarified.
“To be clear, there will be no verification of a citizen’s status to access health and social services in English,” Dubé tweeted. “The changes to the directives was simply to ensure that the text reflected the intentions of the government and that they are simpler to understand for our employees and the population. … It was never in question that health and social services would be restricted on the basis of linguistic criteria. We will care for you regardless of what language you speak.”
Well, that’s a relief.
To the government’s credit, the new version is more than a mere clarification. It reads like a complete repudiation of the previous effort.
The preamble of the directives 2.0 explicitly mentions, in the second paragraph, that under Quebec’s law on health and social services, English-speaking Quebecers have the right to care in their language, through access programs that accord bilingual status to hospitals. The previous version began with a long preamble about how the Charter of the French Language establishes French as the only language of Quebec.
“Only French has status,” it said; only French can be used “systematically” in the health-care system, with specific exemptions for offering services in other languages, which it went on to describe in painstaking detail.
Many other differences
That’s the first notable difference when comparing the tone and contents of the two documents. But there are many others.
So providing health care in English is now back in the hands of the health minister — where it belongs.
The troublesome definition of an anglophones has been excised completely from the glossary of the new document. The problematic original defined “a recognized English speaker” as “a person declared eligible for English education in Quebec.” We’re back to being “people” and “users” again, part of broader, universal categories that single out no one’s linguistic background.
It never made any sense that the education department would be in charge of determining who qualifies for health care in English. Besides, many patients, especially seniors, don’t have the papers, having graduated from school before Bill 101 — adopted in the 1970s — made them a prerequisite. And the Education Ministry only allots them to school-age children.
But just in case, the new guidelines repeatedly state: “No validation of the identity of the user is required to access services in English.”
The phrases “health and social services in English” and “services in English” are specifically highlighted. The previous document in many cases referred more vaguely to “a language other than French,” as if English was a dirty word. And anglophones who are denied service in English even have grounds to file a complaint. Is it an olive branch or a safeguard?
New guidelines have been gutted
The new guidelines have been gutted of all the examples of when or under what circumstances care may be offered in a language other than French. The original was like a game of snakes and ladders, with pedantic (and frankly insulting) scenarios, like doctors in an emergency room being permitted to communicate with the parent of an French-speaking child to explain a diagnosis, or staff in a clinic being authorized to detail post-procedure care to the person accompanying a 14-year-old seeking an abortion.
Instead, the new regulations state that “a language other than French may be utilized once the user or their representative requests it, expresses that they don’t understand or seems not to comprehend French or” — and this is crucial — “according to the judgment of the care provider.”
Yes, please let’s respect the common sense of health professionals, rather than constrain them from delivering the best care or, worse, causing them to fear sanctions for communicating in the wrong language.
The revised guidelines are more open-ended, saying health care can be provided in other tongues in “all situations or circumstances, physical, mental, psychosocial and populational, in which the user requires a continuum of services … must give consent, or must participate in care decisions that affect their health, well-being or security.”
It also adds: “It is understood that care must be offered in a manner that is scientific, humane … personalized and safe, with respect to the laws, the ethics code and the clinical judgment of every caregiver.”
This should go without saying. But it’s necessary to state the obvious in light of the Kafkaesque turmoil of the past few months.
Before we move on from this unfortunate episode, however, there are some nagging questions that cannot be so easily swept under the rug.
And why was it such a struggle to get the offending policy, riddled as it was with contradictions, revised? Why were there so many disingenuous denials and so much blatant gaslighting that there was nothing to worry about, when clearly there was?
English-speaking people are often told we’re the most coddled minority in the world and prone to hysteria.
Good sense has (mostly) prevailed. But rather than breathing easy, most anglophones have been conditioned to wait for the other shoe to drop.
Given that deputy health minister Daniel Paré said Monday there is a “second volume” of language rules coming soon, we shouldn’t let our guard down.