Léa Stréliski was just 13 in 1995 when the Oui side in the independence referendum fell 54,288 votes short of a mandate to make Québec a country, and ever since she has been hoping to one day play a role in the creation of a new nation. 

“My first position is, I’m an artist,” she said in a recent interview.

Stréliski is a comedian, and like many in Québec’s arts community, she imagines the creation of a new country as a creative, affirming act.

“I like to create things. If you tell me tomorrow morning, we get to create a country, that seems like a lot of fun. If it’s a fun country with good ideas, where people’s rights are respected, where it makes things simpler.”

Stréliski has nothing against Canada, but the federation is complicated. For some reason there is a king involved, and there has been a lot of divisive fighting about the constitution.

“So if you tell me tomorrow morning that you have a good politician, you want to create a country out of Québec, I’ll vote for that. I think that’s exciting.”

But Stréliski, who has voted for the Bloc Québécois and the NDP in the past, is campaigning for the federal Liberals in this election, filming ads with Mark Carney and other Liberal candidates, all thanks to U.S. President Donald Trump’s threats.

“The States have gone completely crazy and are just disgusting in the way they’re bullying everyone,” says Stréliski. “It’s just toxic, and it’s awful.”

Trump has produced a decisive shift toward Canada among francophone Quebecers.

“What I started seeing was people who were very, very surprised at how they wanted to raise a Canadian flag. That’s the weird emotion we were already feeling.”

Ever since 1976, when René Lévesque became the first Parti Québécois premier of Québec, many Quebecers have had an ambiguous relationship with Canada. 

As Stréliski’s fellow comedian Yvon Deschamps put it years ago, a real Quebecer wants an independent Québec within a united Canada.

“It’s a sort of psychology of identity and the politics of it,” says Jack Jedwab, executive director of the Association for Canadian Studies at McGill, who worked on the Non side in 1995. “They’re going to feel varying degrees of attachment, and sometimes those attachments can be conflictual. And sometimes they are convergent. And right now, I think, with the threat from Donald Trump, they’re more convergent.”

The two wolves – sovereigntist and federalist – struggle eternally inside the breasts of many francophone Quebecers. Opinion ebbs and flows as politicians struggle in Ottawa and Québec City. The sovereigntist wolf was dominant after the collapse of the Meech Lake constitutional accord in 1990, when polling showed a clear majority wanted out for years, but has since levelled off in the low 30s. When Trump started threatening Canada, it briefly dropped below 29 for the first time since Leger started polling on it.

Philippe J. Fournier, who runs the poll aggregator site 338canada.com, was talking to a sovereigntist friend recently, a lifelong Péquiste, who was planning to vote Liberal for the first time in the federal election.

“I’m still a sovereigntist, but Québec cannot become sovereign if Canada is not sovereign,” he said. “If the U.S. gets into this imperialistic or expansionist wave, we cannot become sovereign. If Canada is attacked, we have to be good partners.”

Even former Parti Québécois leader Jean-François Lisée, who was a senior strategist for the Oui side in the 1995 referendum, acknowledges that Trump’s aggression has changed the calculations of sovereigntists.  

“If aliens were attacking, the whole planet would join,” he said in a recent interview. “You know, I think that could make a good movie.” 

The roots of the sovereignty movement in Quebec

The deeply rooted ambiguity that Quebecers feel for Canada is based on its particular history.

Québec is part of Canada because of a military defeat and a voluntary political union. In 1759, at the climax of what Quebecers call La guerre de la Conquête, a colonial British army defeated a French army at the Plains of Abraham, which led to the fall of Québec City and ultimately all of New France. The British, who didn’t have the military resources to subjugate the colonists, made a deal to allow them to keep their language, religion and code of laws, but it was the beginning of a period of English dominance.

Alexis de Tocqueville, the French intellectual who wrote Democracy in America, visited in 1831, and described Quebecers as a defeated people: 

“I have just seen in Lower Canada a million French people, brave, intelligent, destined to one day form a great French nation in America, who live as foreigners in their own country. The conquering people control commerce, jobs, wealth, and power. They form the upper classes and dominate the whole of society. The conquered people, wherever they do not have immense numerical superiority, gradually lose their customs, their language, and their national character.”

The people of Québec did not let themselves lose those things. La Survivance — the survival — is a matter of immense pride, the focal point of the society’s sense of itself. They resisted anglophone dominance but rejected American imperialism, seeing their best chance of survival in a political and military partnership with British and Indigenous allies who also wanted to resist being overwhelmed by an aggressive United States.

In a speech in 1846, Étienne-Paschal Taché, a hero of the war of 1812, who later played a key role in negotiating Confederation, promised that Quebecers would remain loyal: “We will never forget our allegiance till the last cannon which is shot on this continent in defence of Great Britain is fired by the hand of a French-Canadian.”

But while the political relationship suited both sides and allowed for the successful 19th century expansion of Canada to include vast territories to the west, English speakers gained the upper hand demographically. It was also a period of subjugation for Indigenous people, and of gradual marginalization for French Canadians, who were poorer than their English neighbours, as their lives were dominated by English business interests and an authoritarian Catholic Church.

In 1968, when they were awoken from their long slumber by electronic media, they rose up, abandoning the Church overnight, and seized control of their political and economic lives, led first by the provincial Liberals and then by the Parti Québécois under Lévesque, who led the Oui side to a defeat in the first referendum in 1980.

When the results came in that night — 60-40 against — sovereigntists wept, comforted one another and sang the unofficial anthem of the movement, Gilles Vigneault’s Gens de Pays, before they let Lévesque speak.

When he finally calmed the crowd, he managed to smile and say, “Si je vous ai bien compris, vous êtes en train de dire à la prochaine fois.”

(If I understand you correctly, you are saying, see you next time.)

For the bell-bottom generation who wept and sang with Lévesque, the quest for a country is a profound part of their identity.

The movement was long driven by young people, particularly the baby boomers, who are now retired and not, perhaps, in the mood for adventure. Even at the time of the 1995 referendum, 60 per cent of those under 35 supported sovereignty. 

But it is an increasingly nostalgic sentiment. The artists have not given up. Les Cowboys Fringants and Loco Locass have followed in the shoes of Vigneault and Félix Leclerc, and about half of the province’s francophones are sovereigntists. But the age distribution is not good for the movement — 42 per cent of people 55 and older support it, compared with only 36 per cent of those 18 to 34. 

The long term prospects looked good then, because new voters would eventually replace older voters who were more skeptical. But younger voters today are less interested.

Many sovereigntist leaders have origin stories about being treated disrespectfully by anglos in the past, when francophones were second-class citizens, many living in grinding poverty. But over time, as Quebecers asserted themselves politically, and educational and income levels rose, that sense of grievance has faded.

“Some of the differences that really created the sovereignty movement in the 50s, 60s, 70s, situation has changed quite a bit, and those arguments are harder to make for the younger generations who haven’t lived it,” says Sébastien Dallaire, Leger’s executive vice-president for eastern Canada. “They do have more access, and the linguistic divide doesn’t seem to resonate.”

The lack of youth support is a real problem.

“It’s a movement about change,” he says. “It’s a movement about creating something new. And without younger generations to push it, it’s much harder to do because you’re trying to break the status quo.”

But Quebecers still worry about threats to the French language. There is a debate about how serious a threat there is — 94.5 per cent of Quebecers speak French, a number that isn’t falling. But from 2016 to 2021, the percentage of people who speak French at home fell from 79 per cent to 77.5 per cent. 

The traditional public discussion in Québec, which describes a zero-sum struggle between two languages, does not describe the new reality, says Daniel Béland, director of the McGill Institute for the Study of Canada. 

“If you come to Canada from Vietnam and you speak Vietnamese at home, but then your kids go to French school, they are fluent in French, they can socialize in French with some of their friends but they speak Vietnamese at home,” Béland says.

Quebecers are right to fear the decline of the language, according to Lisée. Polls show they think French will die in Canada.

“There was a plurality of francophones that believed that an independent Québec would ensure the survival of French,” he says. “So the potency of the survival issue is greater now than it was then.”

Shifting priorities

In a way, the debate about Québec sovereignty is now a debate about immigration. Because Bill 101, which Lévesque’s government brought in, requires immigrants to educate their children in French, they often end up speaking better French than anglophones who go to English schools even if they don’t speak the language at home. Twenty-one per cent of Montrealers are trilingual, as comfortable in Arabic, Hindi, Creole or Cantonese, part of what gives the city its cosmopolitan elan.

But immigration, which is vital for the economy, poses a long-term challenge to the movement. Some allophones support sovereignty, but mostly it is a preoccupation for les Québécois de souche – old stock French Canadians.

Paul St-Pierre Plamondon, the popular leader of the Parti Québécois, has promised to call a referendum if he wins the 2026 election, which he says will be the “chance ultime,” the last chance for sovereignty because of the demographic shift.

“It’s been an internal debate within the sovereignty movement for many years,” says Dallaire. “This idea that the longer you wait, the less the demographics will be favorable because newer Canadians, newer Quebecers tend to be not favorable towards Québec sovereignty, and as the linguistic fabric of Québec society changes, it also points away from sovereignty.”

Plamondon does not use harsh anti-immigration rhetoric, but prominent sovereigntist columnist Mathieu Bock-Côté, who lives in France and is influenced by the far-right Rassemblement national, the party of Marine Le Pen, is pushing the movement in that direction. 

“Their discourse about immigration has been more aligned with a more conservative discourse of maybe we should reduce targets, reduce quotas and be more careful about the number of immigrants we let in, because it is seen within the sovereignty movement as a potential limitation,” says Dallaire.

But the debate over sovereignty has become less central to Québec politics. Polling shows that slowly over time, Quebecers are less certain that it is a real possibility. 

Since sovereigntists hold other opinions on the left-right divide, it makes sense for Quebecers to organize themselves around other issues. That was the central appeal of the Coalition Avenir Québec, which has been governing with a nationalist agenda since 2018, pushing identity and language issues and picking fights with Ottawa and minority groups, but not proposing secession. The left-wing Québec Solidaire has had MNAs in L‘assemblee nationale since 2008. The party is sovereigntist, but its priorities are more around the environment and social justice.

“They’ve tried to really appeal to those young people and that doesn’t really excite you about sovereignty if it’s not the priority,” says the Association for Canadian Studies’ Jedwab. “It’s a secondary thing, and we’ll get back to it later. So let’s fix the environment.”

The splintering of the sovereigntist vote seems to show that Quebecers are ready to move on, since there is not much point in voting for a sovereigntist party if there is no real possibility of seceding. But, as always, Quebecers are sending contradictory signals, since the PQ is leading the polls.

Plamondon has promised his own party that he will hold a referendum in his first mandate, which will be a weakness for him during a campaign, since most Quebecers don’t want a referendum now.

It has long been a challenging dynamic for PQ leaders, since party militants want a plan that will get them to the promised land, but that plan becomes a vulnerability during an election campaign among voters who might be open to the idea at some other time.

Lisée thinks it may work out well for Plamondon.

“We like this guy,” he says. “He’s young. He’s thoughtful. He’s not François Legault. And he’s the best available option to get rid of Legault, which is going to be a ballot question. Others will want to make the referendum a ballot question. If you don’t want a referendum, why would you vote for a guy who will hold one? And Quebecers, having been in this rodeo for 50 years will say, ‘Hey, maybe he won’t hold it. And if he holds it, we’ll vote no. So we’ll still have him as premier.’”

But the provincial Liberals will choose a leader in June, and Quebecers won’t vote for another year and a half.

“I still think things are a bit up in the air,” says Jedwab. “The Trump factor is important right now. It may strengthen the federalists in Québec, make things more challenging for Mr. Plamondon.”

Quebecers will not soon forget Trump’s threats, which may permanently shift the frame, reminding Quebecers that the world is dangerous. As many as 40 per cent of Bloc Québecois voters believe an independent Québec would carry less weight than a united Canada in dealing with the United States, according to a recent poll.

“There’s not a lot of Quebecers who think, ‘Oh, yeah. If Québec was independent, we would hold our own against Trump right now,’” says Karl Bélanger, a former NDP political staffer turned Cogeco commentator.

Whatever may be wrong with Canada, Quebecers have been able to protect French within the federation, and Québec theoretically has the right to secede. If the United States were to swallow Canada, as Trump desires, Québec’s path to independence would presumably be blocked, and there is no guarantee that Quebecers could maintain the legal protections for French that francophones have fought for over generations. Quebecers are aware that few now speak French in Louisiana, and last month, Trump signed an executive order making English the official language of the United States, a hostile message to the 40 million Spanish speakers. 

As in the distant past, the reasons for Québec’s marriage of convenience with English Canada suddenly become more salient.

“A lot of Québec francophones think of themselves in relationship to the anglophones in the rest of Canada,” says the Institute for the Study of Canada’s Béland. “But what Trump is doing with the rhetoric about the 51st state and the attack against Canadian sovereignty, is that more Quebecers now are turning to defining themselves more in a negative relationship to the United States, which puts them on the same boat as the rest of Canada. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Lisée acknowledges that Trump has changed the political environment, but there are reasons to think a third referendum might succeed.

While support is stable right now, the experience of the 1995 referendum showed that public opinion moved once the question was on the table. 

And the federal government looks more incompetent now than it did then, says Lisée: “Quebecers felt in 1980 and 1995 that you can have grievances against the federal government, but at least this was a very competent outfit. Now, this has been shattered in the last 10 years.”

Quebecers face a real demographic challenge, both linguistic in their home province and as a declining political power relative to other parts of the country, so the fundamental reason for the movement may be stronger now. And it is likely that the next prime minister of Canada will be an anglophone with roots in Western Canada.

“The personalities are very important,” he says. “And so to have Pierre Trudeau in 1980 and Jean Chrétien in 1995, well, you could disagree with them, but they were Quebecers. They were part of the family. And so a number of Quebecers say, why separate from a country that we’re basically leading? So to have an anglo prime minister is very important in the frame of mind of a number of undecided Quebecers.”

Stréliski, though she plans to vote Liberal this time, remains open to a future referendum, partly because life as a Canadian with a double identity is so complicated.

“It would never even be against Canada. It would just be because it’s a creative thing. It respects our history, also our language, our culture. I think it would make sense, but right now this is not the question at all. I mean, this is not the emergency right now, so it’s just not the reality we live in.” 

But the idea is not dead, and will not die anytime soon. 

“Politics is a lot about who shows up and who channels whatever is going on in society, and I think that right now, well, making Québec a country, maybe it will come back just like maybe the Habs will win another Stanley Cup,” she says. “Who knows? If we have the right team. You need the right team. Right now, I think the Habs have a better chance of winning the cup than Québec becoming a country.”

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