One summer day, when I was walking through the streets of Montreal, I ran into Gregory M. Cook, an exceptional human being, who had once, back in 1980’s, taken me by the hand and welcomed me into the literary universe of Nova Scotia. In October 1984, Cook, as the Executive Director of the Writers’ Federation of Nova Scotia, signed a letter in support of the political prisoners of Chile, in which he unequivocally ordered me to stop my hunger strike, already 24 days old, a strike that I engaged in to stop the execution of twelve political prisoners in my native land. Every night during this hunger strike, from the sacristy of a church, I sent radio reports through Radio Moscow International, Radio Berlin International, Radio Nederland, CTV, CBC, and others, getting the world mobilized. And as a result, we obtained the commutation of the death penalties for each of them in exchange for a life in prison.
I still remember his words: “Elias Letelier the activist can kill Elias the poet. Elias the poet would never kill the activist in him.” His imperative tone and eloquence, perfect for a plaque, was what had made me stop my strike.
Seeing him again in the streets of Montreal, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and I immediately I abandoned all that I had to do at that moment. What I most wanted to do was to enjoy his company as though it were a gift from the sky.
Cook was the then Chair of The Writers’ Union of Canada (TWUC) and as we talked he asked me to join the organization that he represented. I immediately agreed.
A few days later, I began to take part in the meetings of this organization, where I met Peter McFarlane for the first time. McFarlane was also a new recruit. What struck me was that this meeting had more in common with a bingo game than a gathering of intellectuals: The main topic seemed to be “money.”
I found myself in a room full of people – packed to the rafters — all of them writers, but for some reason, there was a complete absence of intellectual discourse. Here, it seemed that the idea of this encounter was more of an excuse to huddle around a cup of tea or a glass of wine and discuss what Toronto was doing, while an absolute silence prevailed about the local reality.
Without a doubt, it was a strange ambience, and bore no resemblance to anything I knew about a meeting of intellectuals. It seemed as though many of these writers were waiting around to be discovered by an important U.S. agent. That’s it: a shallow social gathering, moved by an instinctive desire for immortality. Of course, I am not suggesting that these writers did not think, but rather that these meetings were not the place for it. This was a rodeo, a who’s who; an Alliance for Progress where the merchandise came from Ontario.
The Problem
During this period, the pro-independence oligarchy of Quebec was propagating its xenophobic rhetoric, inciting workers from Chibougamau to Montreal, from Chicoutimi to Rouen-Noranda, who were in fact, totally disenfranchised and not represented by this hateful rhetoric. Meanwhile, this oligarchy was pawing the image of René Levesque, a pacifist and a revolutionary icon of the working-class of Quebec, where pro-independence harangues besieged the population. At the same time, through the mouthpiece of The Writers Union of Canada, (TWUC), came the Margaret Atwood-Graeme Gibson Toronto Literary Cartel (MAGGTLC) with its dirty diplomacy known as "Political Correctness."
To clarify my situation and context, I am a Chilean political exile residing in Quebec. Several Chileans here, like Oscar Núñez, criticized my views vis-à-vis the dream of the Quebec oligarchy. But, there were (and still are) many underlying reasons for my position.
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| Elias Letelier reading in Brussels, Belgium |
The frequent error of American leftists, living in Québec, is that they identify themselves with the pro-independence movement not because they believe in the rationale behind it, but rather they are dragged by political inertia. Many leftists in America live in a constant state of polarization: They defend their cultural identities and values through political means or through direct confrontation. This is a natural reflex. Such American leftists identify with this pro-Quebec independence movement, led by an ambitious Creole oligarchy that doesn’t recognize — nay, renounces – its own Latin American roots: an arrogant group that only identifies itself as a pure French society.
Knowing how the Creole oligarchy of Quebec has argued and still argues for the extinction of the English language from the palate of Quebec, my position is very simple: If there is no place for the poets and writers of the English language in Quebec, those who were born and/or educated in this province, then what place is there for me, someone who comes from another culture and who speaks French and English with a strong Castilian accent? These, of course, are the things that mark me, every instant, as being someone who is not from here.
To make matters worse, this was also the time when the federal government wanted to return the cultural file to the provinces, a move that TWUC, under the presidency of Susan Creem, openly endorsed. Although the writers of Quebec voiced our vehement opposition to this, Creem, under the whip and vertical command of the MAGGTLC decided to ignore our position. Going even further, Toronto, the self-proclaimed literary headquarters of the English language in Canada, was at the time dictating who would act as the literary representative of Quebec without consulting the home-base of poets and writers who were negatively affected by their appointee – often someone who did not understand the historical reality of the province.
The real tragedy was that only when Quebec’s poets and writers engaged in activities that obeyed the interests of the Toronto cartel – under vertical command – was there approval. This seemed rather a parody of Stalin's democratic centralism.
The Margaret Atwood-Graeme Gibson Toronto Literary Cartel expected that whenever it rained in Toronto, poets and writers in Montreal had to use an umbrella. No!
At the same time, I, along with poets Endre Farkas, Sharon H. Nelson, and writer Peter McFarlane, were already independently expressing concern over this issue. Here we made our stand. This was a pivotal moment. Enough was enough, we thought to ourselves. When it rains in Toronto, we don’t have to open an umbrella in Montreal.
The BBQ
Peter McFarlane: his political awareness of the crimes committed by the dictators of America, especially in the case of Guatemala, attracted my curiosity, especially after having read his work entitled Northern Shadows, which not only shines the light on American tyrants but also entertains readers through its eloquent ridicule of these criminals.
We became friends, though it didn’t happen from one day to the next. Though we spoke for hours at a time, there was little exchange of information, a natural survival conditioning I had acquired during the fight against the dictatorship and its spies in my native land.
My new friend was not well-known on the Montreal literary scene. I suggested to him that it would be a good idea to get to know some of the very interesting people I knew: it would be good for everybody.
One of these people was Sharon H. Nelson, a strong-willed character who had a clear political position. Nelson is not only a poet, but also a thinker, and a harshly attacked one at that; someone who is able to elaborate ideas, something not very common within the poetic world of Montreal. Nelson was (and still is) not an easy person to deal with, but was and still is a strong poetic voice, whose principles and perseverance make her an admirable thinker.
During this period, poet and publisher Endre Farkas was already engaged in a campaign against the atomization of the English language in Quebec. As co-presidents of the Engish language publishers of Quebec (AELPQ), he and Karen Haughian presented the association’s rejection of the attempt to politically and culturally gag the English language literary community via the transfer of federal art funding to the province.
For my part, I had already been exchanging ideas on this same theme with Farkas, Nelson and McFarlane. In particular, I wondered why there was no institution representing and defending the interests of the English language poets and writers of Quebec. I talked about the need for our own organization that was not a social club of an elite group, but a decisive force governed by Quebecers for Quebecers.
At that time, I was living in Point St-Charles, in an apartment so small that I had to sleep with my feet hanging out the window when I wanted to stretch out. I had recently returned from Nicaragua, where they had thrown me a military rank, and named me the Editor of the Cultural National Council of Nicaragua, under the direction of Ernesto Cardenal.
Peter had already returned from Guatemala, and unlike me, moved into a beautiful apartment facing the St. Lawrence River with his partner and a bipolar dog named Mac. It was here, in his new and comfortable residence, that I suggested to Peter that we have a barbecue, an evening with some of the very fascinating people I knew. A few days later, I invited them, telling them that there was a very interesting writer that I wanted them to meet, someone who would be good to know, a natural leader for whom I had developed a great admiration.
I arrived at the barbecue around 16:30 with the meat (Peter was nervous.) I prepared a few different salads and we waited for the invited guests. The meat was grilled in Pampino (Argentinean) style: salted on each side and cooked at high temperature.
If there was a common denominator among all the guests, it was, without a doubt, that they all knew how to dance el paso doble: They were just waiting for somebody to ask them to dance.
It was a memorable night. Although Peter had initially worried about hosting a gathering of people he didn’t know, he slowly warmed up and became the host of the night. It was a typical meeting of intellectuals, people who not only wrote poetry and prose, but who also elaborated ideas. Soon the linguistic reality of Quebec became the focus of the conversation. In fact, the subject triggered an animated exchange of ideas and united everyone in the room, creating a natural alliance among us.
Prior to the barbecue, Farkas and Nelson had begun working on a paper addressing their concerns about the English language in Quebec. (This document later morphed into The BBQ Manifesto.) It was that night at the barbecue, after fine food and several drinks, that three poets and a writer decided to create "The Federation of English Language Writers of Quebec" (FEWQ). Once we accepted the idea of going ahead with the project, Peter McFarlane, lifted a finger and said: “I always dreamt of being president of an organization like this." Immediately, we turned in his direction, and, pointing to him, declared him president. George Szantos, who had come with his distinguished wife “Kit” exclaimed: “Leave me out of this." He was the first to leave the party.
Essentially, the three poets Endre Farkas, Elias Letelier and Sharon H. Nelson; and writer Peter McFarlane made the decision, there and then, to create the Federation of English Language Writers of Quebec. (Peter didn’t know then that he was starting his new career as Artist Administrator.)
Publisher Karen Haughian, also in attendance, explained regretfully that because she was a publisher she could not be part of our initiative. However, like Szantos and others, she was a witness to this historic moment.
Conclusion
A year later, Sharon, Peter, and I headed off to the lawyer’s office to sign the document to officially incorporate FEWQ. The process was not easy, as the huge volume of documents show. I kept most of them for their historical value since I was well aware that someday, they would become the annals of the nationalistic endeavour of those who have chosen English as a means of expression in Quebec, those who decided, one summer night at a barbecue, to repatriate the English language and to stop complying with the Vertical Command of the MAGGTLC.
In any struggle, where ideas converge to establish a concept of society or a model of life, there will always be the presence of “hallway terrorism”: a battle ground for agreements and disagreements. There will always be those who feel used, and others who misuse what we put in their hands; those who renounce and then, the following day, renounce what they renounced the day before. All of this is profoundly normal. The unfortunate thing is when an idea is transformed and evolves into something different from the initial idea, a distorted syncretism. This is another chapter, one that we might entitle The Time of Conspiracies.
To start up FEWQ, we knew it would be necessary to neutralize the “Boys Club” (those who represented, until then, TWUC in Quebec) and among them, one, a hard-liner, who soon became the number one enemy of our independence from Toronto; a person who assumed a servile posture vis-à-vis the MAGGTLC: always sitting beside a power, any power, that there is. We understood the context: Nothing was accidental.
Soon, after the beginnings of FEWQ, there were cultural and political prejudices coming from our detractors, especially from those to who were deeply bothered by the fact that a poet—a political refugee from Chile, and a militant of the Communist party with a strong Castilian accent— was instrumental in the creation of FEWQ. And not only instrumental, but an instigator of it: a person who, over time, became relegated to the shade. This is, without a doubt, one of the reasons why my name, later, was depurated from the official record. For a second time in my life, a few individuals tried to make me “disappear”, the way the Chilean dictator once made me temporarily disappear.
The creation of FEWQ immediately got the attention of Montreal poets and writers. They began participating in our new literary and linguistic enterprise. Finally, these Quebecers had a voice of their own. But this new FEWQ was not what we had originally envisioned. It seems to me that the original idea was killed by a syncretism that settled for less and played safe in both camps. This is regrettable.
Let us now extrapolate. From a theoretical point of view we can understand why progressive intellectuals worldwide study the Paris Commune, a phenomenon that always happens when a rupture, a political crisis, takes place among ideas or concepts. In concrete terms, poet and thinker Sharon H. Nelson and I were tossed aside.
Over the years, FEWQ evolved into what has become today’s organization, the Quebec Writers' Federation (QWF), a stagnant union where there is no progress or interest in achieving its primary goal: to be an organization that would clearly, strongly and independently speak up on language issues and fight for the rights and interests of the English language poets and writers of Quebec. This would have to include an actual building that would be a symbol of our equality.
We, as poets and writers, need a building, not a space shared with other organizations or Institutions. We need a building of our own, where poets and writers can meet and give workshops and readings. We need a place where we can receive our guests from other countries or provinces. We need a building with many rooms, which should be named after fellow poets and writers who have contributed to the English language literary landscape of Quebec (A.M. Klein, F.R. Scott, Hugh McLennan, Mordecai Richler, etc.) If the Latino (French Quebecers) poets and writers have a building, then we, too, have the same right to a casa of our own.
Despite all of this, we must celebrate all that the poets and writers have achieved over the years. We must celebrate their struggle for an independent English language writing community, apart from other remote realities, but fully rooted in the Quebec identity.
FEWQ Newsletter: Issue 1 Volume 1 Winter 1993.pdf
Chilean-born Elias Letelier worked to establish the External Resistance Fronts in southern Santiago (ADA) in preparation for the Chilean popular uprising. During that time, he directed over 80 literary workshops with Chilean workers. In November 1981, he left Chile and carried on as Director of El Siglo (The Century News). From 1981-1983, He worked as Human Rights Commissioner at Maritime University in Canada, and was a correspondent for various newspaper publications. He is the publisher and literary editor of Poetas.com, the electronic and paper cooperative publishing house of the Anti-imperialist Poets of America. He co-founded FEWQ, which later became the Quebec Writers’ Federation.
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Poetry Books: |
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Mural. Ottawa: Editorial Poetas Antiimperialistas de América, 2002
ISBN 1-894879-01-5
Histoire de la Nuit. Montreal: L'Hexagone, 1999
ISBN 2-89006-619-3
Silence. Montreal: L'Hexagone, 1998
ISBN 2-89006-583-9
Silence. Montreal: The Muses' Company, 1992
ISBN 0-919754-41-4 ISBN 0-919754-40-6
Symphony. Montreal: The Muses' Company, 1988
ISBN 0-919754-12-6 ISBN 0-919754-10-4
Canciones del Gato. Santiago: Horizonte, 1976
(This book was seized under the Pinochet dictatorship.) |
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Anthologies: |
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Freedom. Anthology of Canadian poets for Turkish resistance. Ottawa: Poetas Antiimperialistas de América, 2006. ISBN 1-894879-12-0
Canto a un Prisionero. Antología de Poetas Américanos: Homenje a los Presos Polítcos en Turquía. Ottawa: Editorial Poetas Antiimperialistas de América, 2005.
ISBN 1-894879-10-4
Anaconda: Antologia di Poeti Americani: Omaggio ai Prigionieri Politici spagnoli detenuti in Francia. Trans. Elisabeta Lasagna; Prefazione di Moreno Pasquinelli. Ottawa: Poetas Antiimperialistas de América, 2003
ISBN 1-894879-04-X |
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Multimedia: |
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Poemas Escogidos. Multimedia. Ottawa: Cdpoesia (www.cdpoesia.com), Editorial Poetas Antiimperialistas de América 2002
ISBN 1-894879-04-X |
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Translation: |
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Farkas, Endre. Palabras Sobrevivientes. Trans. Elias Letelier. Ottawa: Editorial Poetas Antiimperialistas de América, 2002
ISBN 1-894879-02-3 |
