Fascism does not always appear with uniforms or parades. In contemporary democratic societies, it can advance disguised as civility, moderation, or patriotism. In Quebec, this process takes a particularly subtle form: a nationalism that, under the guise of protecting social peace, defines who belongs to the “we” and who is excluded from the political body. This is not a declared fascism, but a cultural drift combining symbolic exclusion, fear of conflict, and a moralizing discourse that delegitimizes dissent.

The clearest example of this trend can be found in recent “calls for peace” in Montreal, where demonstrations in solidarity with Palestine are condemned. In these texts, social protest is portrayed as an importation of “hatred” and “division” from the outside, while a supposed “peace” — in reality, silence and obedience — is promoted. The rhetoric is deceptively simple: those who support the status quo are “citizens of peace,” while those who protest are depicted as violent, provocative, or antisemitic.

This language of apparent neutrality serves a precise political function: to turn legitimate conflict into a threat, and solidarity into suspicion. It deliberately confuses criticism of the State of Israel with antisemitism, erasing the distinctions between a state, an ideology (Zionism), and a religious or cultural community (Judaism). As a result, it strips legitimacy from thousands of citizens — including anti-Zionist Jews, non-Jewish Quebecers, Arabs, and feminists — who protest peacefully for an end to the genocide in Gaza.

Behind this discursive operation lies a mechanism of symbolic violence: the use of moral language to shield power from criticism. The so-called “peace” text does not denounce structural violence or Palestinian suffering; rather, it denounces the discomfort provoked by seeing that violence reflected in our streets. It appeals to people’s fear and desire for normalcy to make any act of indignation appear suspect. Thus, the defense of human rights becomes a “disturbance,” while indifference is dressed up as virtue.

This moral inversion is characteristic of soft authoritarianism. Power — political, media, or symbolic — presents itself as a victim of disorder, while critical citizens are transformed into aggressors. “Peace” is invoked to repress speech, and “respect” to censor solidarity. In the name of coexistence, the possibility of real debate is denied. The result is not harmony, but an imposed consensus, sustained by the fear of being labeled extremist or antisemitic.

In this context, Quebec nationalism risks becoming an instrument of exclusion. The phrase “Montreal belongs to all citizens of peace” sounds inclusive, but actually imposes a moral condition: only those who share the dominant discourse can be considered part of the community. The “internal other” — the protester, the foreigner, the one who refuses consensus — is symbolically expelled from the social body. This act of exclusion is not anecdotal; it is the foundation upon which cultural fascism can thrive without dictatorship or open censorship.

Contemporary fascism does not need to impose overt violence; it merely needs to establish an emotional regime based on fear and distrust. It uses the language of peace, order, reason, and patriotism to neutralize resistance. In Quebec, this process is intensified by an identitarian nationalism which, though born from a legitimate struggle for self-determination, now risks turning into a logic of cultural homogenization.

Confronting this drift requires recovering a critical sense of civility and peace. Peace is not silence or obedience — it is justice. And civility cannot mean conformity; it must involve the responsibility to question power, to open space for dissent, and to recognize the humanity of others — especially when their voices are uncomfortable.

Fascism in Quebec has not yet taken the form of an authoritarian regime, but its seed is already germinating in language: in that polite form of censorship disguised as common sense, in that peace that exists only if no one protests. If this discourse is not confronted through critical thought and active solidarity, moral nationalism could become the smiling face of an ever-deepening exclusion.

Ultimately, the danger lies not only in those who hate openly, but in those who, with calm tone and flag in hand, invite us to be silent “for the good of all.”

Text attributed to Romain Gagnon:

"The Israeli government and even Hamas have agreed to the ceasefire. Even Arab countries have cooperated with this peace plan… So why do these protesters continue to harass the citizens of Montreal? What is their goal? These repeated, noisy demonstrations, with hateful and provocative messages, have nothing to do with peace. They only serve to import hatred and fear into our streets and to intimidate Jewish Quebecers. Quebec should not have to pay the price for the antisemitism of certain ideological movements. Here, we live in a country of law, respect, and coexistence. We say no to intimidation, no to antisemitism, no to violence. This Sunday, join us in large numbers to show that Montreal belongs to all citizens of peace. Come with your Quebec flags, your peace signs, your calm but firm voices. We are here to say: Yes to peace, no to hatred. Yes to dignity, no to fear."