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Nine years after the terrorist attack at the Grand Mosque of Quebec, the issue of security in and around mosques remains a hot topic. Between reinforced technical devices, police cooperation considered generally adequate and a persistent feeling of insecurity among some of the faithful, the testimonies collected make it possible to draw a portrait of a community shared between vigilance, concern and resilience, in a context marked by the rise in hate crimes and a political climate perceived as anxiety-provoking. Report.
On the eve of the celebration of the ninth anniversary of the terrorist attack on the Grand Mosque of Quebec, A call to demonstrate in front of a Montreal mosque the very day of the meditation ceremonies rekindled concerns. For many Muslims in Quebec, such an appeal is part of a wider climate of rising Islamophobia, fuelled by political and media discourses perceived as stigmatizing — and which weighs heavily on the feeling of safety around places of worship.
The call to demonstrate, presented as a mobilization “for secularism in our schools and streets”, circulated on social networks under the name of “Alexandre Bissonnette”, which is none other than the name of the author of the author of the attack against the Grand Mosque. The choice of this alias as well as the place and time of the demonstration deeply shocked the Muslim community.
For Nabila D., who frequents several mosques in Quebec City, this episode is an illustration of the current climate, which she describes as “toxic.” “We see a climate of hate, intimidation, threatening looks, and even more so when it comes to a visible cult environment,” she explains. According to her, social networks play a central role in the dissemination of hate speech. These are often done under the guise of anonymity, but their effects are felt in daily life.
The fear of repetition
The 2017 attack placed Canada at the top of the G7 countries with the most targeted assassinations of Muslims.. Nine years after the attack in Quebec City, the fear that a similar scenario will be repeated remains present among some worshipers. “Yes, in my opinion, it can happen again in one way or another,” says Nabila, who evokes an increase in tensions and a trivialization of discourse hostile to Muslims.
This fear is shared by Salam El-Mousawi, a devotee of the Ahl-ul-Bayt mosque in Côte-des-Neiges. He recalls that mosques are, by nature, open places, which makes them vulnerable. “The Ahl-ul-Bayt mosque, like other mosques, welcomes peaceful worshipers who sometimes feel a certain discomfort,” he said. They monitor who is present, as mosques are generally open to everyone, which makes it easy for anyone to infiltrate and allows anyone to commit, God forbid, any act. That is why everyone strives to be vigilant and to monitor the faithful in order to prevent what happened in Quebec City from happening again.”
Between feelings of insecurity and intimate resistance
Met during the ceremony commemorating the ninth anniversary of the attack, organized by Quebec City at the former city hall in Sainte-Foy, Amel Henchiri, president of the Beauport Mosque Association, recounts the shock of the evening of January 29, 2017. “I told myself that, if I didn't go to the mosque the next day, I was going to live with post-traumatic stress all my life,” she confides. For her, going back to pray was a way to break the terror.
Today, she says she feels safe in her mosque, where she says she is “at home”, while acknowledging that this perception is not shared by everyone. During construction work, some worshipers expressed the need to see the front door at all times, a sign that the attack is continuing to shape behavior. “Everyone has their own reaction,” she observes. “When the mosque was redecorated,” says Mr.Me Henchiri, we wanted to build a wall between the prayer room and the door. But one of the women said, “No — if you want me to be safe, I need to see the door.” So we had to open windows so we could see who was coming in through the door.”
Technical devices, but a continuing concern
In several mosques in Quebec, security systems have been installed over the years — cameras, digicodes, access controls — all while taking advantage of funding from the Canadian government under the Canada Community Safety Program (CSPC), which was launched in October 2024 and replaced the Security Infrastructure Project Funding Program (PFPIS).
Salam El-Mousawi confirms that his mosque received a federal fund to improve its security. “Yes, there are cameras and electronic devices, as well as a security system at the entrance and exit (digicode). But Mr. El-Mousawi nuances the effect of these initiatives, saying that no technical measure alone can dispel fear. “As you know, these are only minor obstacles. God forbid, they could be bypassed by someone with bad intentions.”
The same observation is made by Nabila, who notes that, while many mosques strengthened their security after 2017, some remain less equipped, either because they lack resources or because they are more recent.
Ola Shaheen, marketing manager at the Canadian Youth Development Center, said she spoke with several mosque managers in Quebec, who told her that they shared this feeling of insecurity.
“I talked to leaders who told me that they themselves don't always feel safe in their mosques,” she reports. According to MMe Shaheen, several places of worship have invested in cameras and technological systems, without having a human presence on site. “There is technology, cameras, electronic doors, but no guards. And without anyone to watch, it's not really reassuring,” she explains. She also notes that access to the Canadian Community Safety Program (CSCC), which is designed to support the safety of places of worship, remains an obstacle for many mosques.
“Grants exist, but they are not always available. Many mosques do not know how to apply, or do not have the resources to prepare a case.” According to her, improving security also requires better support. “People in the communities should help officials understand the procedures, fill out the forms, and get these funds. Otherwise, we are left with incomplete systems.”
On the side of the Special Representative of Canada responsible for combating Islamophobia, her office indicates that the federal program is currently under review in order to better meet the needs of communities. Ottawa says it wants to consult the organizations concerned to improve the accessibility and equity of funding.
Between visible vigilance and persistent insecurity
Last December, during a religious celebration and family engagement at the Jaffari Community Centre in Thornhill, a suburb of Toronto, the atmosphere was festive.
In front of the mosque, the women arrived elegantly dressed, some holding roses in their hands. The cars paraded slowly to drop off the guests, in an atmosphere that was both joyful and solemn. Warm greetings, smiles, and complicit glances made the event feel like an intimate and communal celebration.
At the entrance, security was organized with discretion. An agent was on the women's side, an agent was on the men's side. Both wore clearly visible yellow jackets and welcomed the faithful with calm and kindness, guiding the guests, answering questions, and ensuring the smooth running of the evening.
This presence, which was both reassuring and integrated into community life, did not seem to disturb the celebration. However, it reminded us of a deeper reality: even in moments of joy, vigilance is required. The celebration took place under protection and was designed to reassure, without breaking the harmony of the moment.
Members of various Muslim communities in Quebec were questioned about the existence of similar devices in their mosques. Several responded that this type of visible human supervision, with agents providing reception and security, was rare, if not non-existent, in the places of worship they frequent. Instead, some referred to measures limited to cameras or locked doors.
This contrast echoes the testimony of Ola Shaheen, who frequents a mosque in western Montreal. She explains that, since the 2017 attack, she has been constantly on guard when she goes there.
“Since the attack in Quebec City, every time I enter a mosque, I feel insecure, as if I was waiting for something to happen. It's as if we were expecting a truly tragic event to happen. So when I go in, I look around... And when I enter the mosque, I always check who is standing by the door,” she said.
For this woman of Palestinian origin, who arrived in Quebec in 2009, there was clearly a before and after.
“Before, I felt proud to be Muslim here in Canada, so far away from my country. Being able to enter a mosque and meet people from my community was important for me. It was natural, reassuring,” she explains.
Since the attack, she continues, this relationship has changed profoundly. “Each time you enter a mosque, you feel a different fear — this feeling that something bad could happen. It's never neutral, it's never unconscious. The attack changed everything.”
Asked about the scene observed in Toronto, which we described to her during the interview, Ola Shaheen said she was surprised by the visible presence of security agents. “I visited at least seven mosques in Quebec, and I almost never saw guards there. When you tell me about what you saw in Toronto, it strikes me. However, during periods when mosques are very busy, it would be reassuring to have agents on site.”
However, she cautions: “It sometimes happens to see police patrols pass near mosques, but they are not really present in front of the entrances.”
A political climate considered to be anxiety-provoking
For Stephen Brown, president of the National Council of Canadian Muslims (NCCM), these concerns cannot be separated from the political context in Quebec. “It is difficult to say this in an absolute way, but Quebecers of the Muslim faith experience much more anxiety about belonging to society,” he said, comparing the situation in Quebec to that in Ontario.
According to him, provincial debates and laws, especially around secularism, send a message of exclusion. “The feeling that many people have is that, in order to be accepted, they must make themselves invisible,” he said. According to the CNMC, this perception would contribute to a deterioration of social harmony.
Sameer Majzoub, president of the Canadian Muslim Forum, distinguishes physical security measures from what he calls “deterrence.” Cameras and digicodes, he says, are especially useful after an incident, for documenting and investigating. “Deterrence means preventing hate in advance,” he explains, arguing for policies and public discourse that reduce tensions rather than fuel them.
Stephen Brown makes a similar observation: every time political statements targeting Muslims come up in the news, the CNMC observes an increase in reports of threats, insults, and verbal attacks. Without establishing an automatic link, it highlights the concrete impact of the social climate on the feeling of security.
A word that is still difficult to release
Despite the multiplication of incidents, official complaints remain few. Many of the mosque representatives contacted by La Converse as part of this story requested anonymity or simply declined our request for an interview. Sameer Majzoub evokes fear of reprisals, fatigue in the face of long and expensive procedures, and a feeling of ineffectiveness. “People are afraid, and they are tired,” he summarizes.
According to him, this under-reporting of incidents contributes to making the realities experienced by Muslims less visible, even as provocative calls, such as the one broadcast under the name of the author of the attack against the Grand Mosque in Quebec, continue to circulate.
A celebration under the sign of vigilance
Nine years after the attack in Quebec City, the commemoration of January 29 is no longer limited to remembering the victims. It takes place in a climate where fear, vigilance and a sense of identity precariousness remain very present for the Muslim community.
For several interviewees, mosque security cannot be separated from a larger issue: social cohesion. “Disagreement is natural, but it must never degenerate into violence,” recalls Salam El-Mousawi. A reminder that the memory of January 29 remains inseparable from the current debates on the place of Muslims in Quebec public space.
For many worshipers and community leaders, the commemoration thus becomes a moment with a double meaning: honoring the memory of the disappeared, while recalling the need for a collective commitment against the trivialization of hate. A vigilance that, beyond places of worship, involves the whole of society.
