Quebec and all of Canada have been profoundly shocked by the mass murder at a mosque in Quebec City. Thousands of people, from Prime Minister Justin Trudeau to ordinary citizens, have joined vigils, lit candles, shed tears for the dead.

It’s a heartening display of solidarity with our fellow citizens who fell victim to senseless violence, and to a Muslim community that feels more vulnerable than ever.

But the most encouraging thing in the wake of the shooting is that Quebec’s political leaders and news media are finally taking a hard look in the mirror. They’re starting to openly acknowledge their own role in creating an atmosphere of suspicion and hostility towards Muslims.

A decade of toxic debates about supposed threats to Quebec values, about hijabs and niqabs and “reasonable accommodation,” has taken its toll. No one yet knows exactly why the shooter did what he did, but the poisoned rhetoric undoubtedly created a climate in which hate can more easily flourish and extremists can find justification for their feelings.

For far too long, Quebec politicians and commentators have gone into a defensive crouch whenever anyone (especially an outsider) points out the streak of Islamophobia that has run through the province’s political discourse. Any suggestion that the province has a special problem is just more “Quebec bashing,” they insisted.

But the massacre at the mosque is a turning point, the moment for some long-overdue soul-searching.

To his credit, Premier Philippe Couillard has opened the debate by acknowledging that Quebec, like all societies, has to deal with its “demons” – and “these demons are named xenophobia, racism, exclusion.” Importantly, he pointed out that the way public figures talk about social issues can have hurtful effects in the real world: “Words can be knives slashing at people’s consciousness.”

That’s a vital reminder to politicians who have cynically played on voters’ fears for their own benefit. Couillard’s own government has proposed a law that would ban veiled women from receiving government services; he could follow up his fine words by backing away from any such action, which just fuels public fear to no good end.

Others share responsibility. The Parti Québécois leader, Jean-François Lisée, speculated last year that Muslim women wearing burkas might be a security risk because they could be concealing AK-47s in their robes. Now he admits that might not have been a very helpful contribution to the debate.

The news media, too, should reflect on their role. Some newspaper columnists have gleefully poured gasoline on every incident involving misunderstandings between Muslims and the wider society. And Quebec’s infamous talk radio jockeys have fanned the flames as well.

Quebecers will be quick to point out that they have no monopoly on bigotry, and they are right. English Canada has its full share of anti-Muslim feeling, and the Harper Conservatives tried to take advantage of the issue by attempting to ban niqabs from citizenship ceremonies. Conservative leadership candidate Kellie Leitch continues to go down that path.

But it has been harder for Quebec society to face these issues squarely, for obvious historical reasons. Francophone Quebecers often see themselves as a beleaguered minority and have trouble accepting that, as the majority in Quebec, it’s up to them to fully accept the diversity of their society and all that involves.

The first step is to acknowledge the problem and accept responsibility for finding solutions. It’s tragic that it took a mass shooting to get the debate started, and it won’t be easy to undo the effect of years of overheated public discourse. But failing to continue the effort would be not just a lost opportunity; it would be a betrayal of the victims of Sunday’s massacre.

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