Last week's election results out of Quebec once again bring the politics of language to the fore. The Parti Québécois has stated that it will be even tougher in the application of provincial language laws, while at the same time respecting the rights of anglophones living within the province.

The remainder of Canada has always been uneasy with this discourse, while at the same time recognizing that it has the luxury of operating in a language that has become in many people's eyes the global language of communication. Add to the discussion the confusion that many immigrants feel when they realize that English and French may have equal status from coast to coast in the eyes of the law, but in reality it is hard to participate in society in any meaningful way if you don't use French in Quebec and English in most of the remainder of the country.

Hardline separatists have been a part of the Parti Québécois since René Lévesque formed the first PQ government in 1976. One of the arguments they have always used to justify the creation of a new state is the fact that Quebec operates primarily in French and is therefore linguistically and culturally distinct from the rest of the continent. The “two solitudes” concept plays entirely in favour of this argument, as the rest of the country is reminded time and again of Québec's “distinct society” status, based on language and the culture that flow from that language.

If the desire to separate from the rest of the country is statistically at an all-time low today, it is often explained to us by academics, politicians and media that this is due to economic conditions and fatigue with endlessly debating this question. There is, however, another plausible explanation. More and more Canadians have been learning French and the beauty of the French-Canadian culture, and breaking down the anachronistic concept of “two solitudes.”

I learned French as a child in Calgary, and was a bit of a local curiosity in the 1960s. Today, with three million Canadians outside Quebec functionally bilingual, this new elite has easier access to government, communications and marketing jobs across the country. They do not feel “foreign” in Québec, and often form strong personal and professional ties with French-Canadians. This, along with the Internet and the use of social media, is breaking any possibility of living in “solitude.”

Today, as president of one of Canada's largest French-language schools, the Alliance Française de Toronto, I watch our 6,000 students from all over the world as they master French with determination, attend cultural events to go even further and understand the heart and soul of “la francophonie.”

They have one thing in common: a desire to broaden their horizons by mastering one of the most beautiful and successful languages in the history of mankind, which is an official language of their country as well. They would appreciate the words of author and philosopher John Raulston Saul, who likes to ask why anyone would purposely close a door being opened for them, thereby reducing one's options in life.

My colleagues at the Alliance Française remind me that our Toronto school opened in 1902 and has served the city for 110 years, but never before have we grown so fast. With four schools and a major expansion project presently underway just to keep up with demand, it seems that residents of Canada's largest city have a huge appetite to have both themselves and their children learn what has so often been called “the language of Molière.” They now enjoy French-Canadian television, music, literature, and political debate, and are one of the answers to why the energy level for sovereignty is so low.

Put a different way, most human beings don't feel compelled to leave a situation in which they are well understood, fully respected and in many cases greatly admired.

Gordon McIvor is president of Alliance Française de Toronto.

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