In the wake of French colonization, exploration and trade throughout the world, the French language permeated cultures on five continents. Depending on the source of the statistics, today's world-wide French-speaking population numbers anywhere from 67 to 450 million people. It is estimated that in the year 2000 there will be 500 million French speakers. French is the world's twelfth language, but next to English, the only language to be spoken on all five major continents. From such statistics we might project a community, but do these figures represent a genuinely united people? And, why, if the francophone community is growing should French governmental and cultural organizations be so concerned about the preservation of French? Before examining these questions, let us briefly outline the evolution of ‘la francophonie’.

The French colonists (‘habitants’) who began settling Canada in the early seventeenth century brought with them the French language, the Catholic religion, and French cultural traditions. These basic elements of ‘le patrimoine’ continued to evolve in the North American context after France abandoned the colony in 1760. Under the influence of a conservative political establishment and the Catholic Church for two centuries, French Canadians perceived themselves as an isolated minority whose duty was to preserve their language, religion, culture, and agrarian traditions. A collective identity crisis during the 1960s led to the conclusion that the old social, educational, and religious institutions had failed to keep up with the forces of modernization, industrialization, and urbanization which had transformed the province. During the period known as the ‘Révolution tranquille’, political reforms gave Quebec greater autonomy within the Canadian confederation, economic reforms improved material conditions, and educational reforms began preparing future generations for productive careers. Rejecting the term ‘Canadien français’ because it connoted colonial status, Quebec intellectuals adopted the term ‘Québécois’ and called for the creation of a national literature, independent from its French roots and its Anglo-American connections. This distinctive Québécois literature would reflect the reality of their lives and speak to them in the language of Quebec.

For the French speaking minorities of Manitoba, the struggle against oppression has often meshed with battles for justice and human rights waged by other Canadian minority groups. Over the past two decades, plays by English and French speaking playwrights have echoed theatrical themes of the nineteenth century by centring on the plight of the Métisse. Being of Amer-Indian and Franco-Canadian descent, the history of the Métisse offers a fascinating perspective on Anglo-French and Anglo-Indian relations. In many of the plays, much attention is paid to the legendary story of Louis Riel, a Métisse chief who led the fight against British expansion into Western Canada and who was executed by the Crown for the murder of Thomas Scott, a British officer. With Riel as an emblem, anglophone and francophone playwrights have forged new outlooks on the historical struggle for control of Western Canada. Furthermore, while investigating the past playwrights have uncovered ways in which conflicting interpretations of history throw light upon present-day Canadian cultural complexities.

The Central African sub-region has a well developed literary history. Although such countries as Cameroon and Zaire have been the region's literary vanguard, the Congo presents a rather fascinating case study given its size, population and its incredible contribution to national and African literature. Roger Chemain insightfully notes: ‘De toute l'Afrique dite “francophone”, le Congo compte le plus fort pourcentage d'écrivains par rapport à l'ensemble de la population au point qu'il peut prétendre à être l'un des “poles” culturels de cette partie de l'Afrique, au même titre que le Sénégal ou le Cameroun, pourtant beaucoup plus peuplés.’ Indeed, the Congo has produced some of the continent's most innovative and daring political writings. In the theatre, a number of playwrights have attempted to take issue with post-colonial dictatorships and cultural assumptions inherited from African traditions and colonialism.

The figure of Pan escapes definition. Should one even attempt to ascribe a gender? Try to seize him (or her) as the forest god and Pan will turn up as the spirit of fertile fields. Imagine Pan as an impish charmer and Pan transforms into a wily adversary. Pan is multiple and everywhere, englobing but also electrifying. Used as prefix, ‘pan’ imparts to political movements and aesthetic projects a Utopian vision, the progressive notion of broad-based co-operation and community. Yet ‘pan’ can also evoke a potentially discordant assembly.

Juxtaposed these quotations, which are separated by three centuries and two continents, suggest that seventeenth-century classical French drama serves as a model for African theatre of the early post-colonial period. The first quotation is, of course, from Moliere, the Old Regime's brilliant comic writer. The second is taken from a play by Oyônô-Mbia, a contemporary dramatist from Cameroon. Given the powerful grip France held over its colonies, it is not surprising to find residual influence of France's theatrical culture on African drama. By the end of World War One, French authority in sub-Saharan Africa extended from Cape Verde to the Congo river. The Third Republic established French schools in the larger colonial towns which attracted the children of well-to-do urban families. France therefore held strong political and cultural sway over the development of African leaders and writers.

In his dramatization of the genocide of Haiti's indigenous Indian population, Jean Metellus sets himself the task of reading the island's future in the archives of Haiti's graveyards. Without being didactic Métellus's Anacaona and Colomb, do have a teaching purpose. They retrace the history of the Indians who lived in Haiti (Ayti) before the arrival of the Conquistadors and their African slaves. In this retracing of history we have a political theatre which calls into question that which and those who allowed this atrocious massacre to take place, and which echoes the dilemmas facing post-Duvalier Haiti.

Franck Fouché was born on 27 November 1915, in Saint-Marc, Haiti. His formative years were precisely the period of the first American occupation of the island. He received his baccalauréat from the Lycée Pétion in 1934. After studying literature at the Université d'Haïti, he returned to Saint-Marc as a professor of literature and director of the Lycée Sténio-Vincent in 1940. He began to publish poetry (‘Billet à Florel’, 1941) and founded a literary review, Horizon (1942). He wrote for two daily newspapers, Le National and Le Nouvelliste in 1944. He received a Licence en Droit from the Université d'Haïti in 1945. After serving as Editor of Le National (1953–4), he was appointed Cultural Attaché at the Haitian Embassy in Mexico City in 1957. Along with a number of Haitian intellectuals, he emigrated from the Duvalierist Haiti to Montreal in 1966. He taught in Chambly. At the Université du Québec à Montréal, he completed an M.A. thesis, Vodou et théâtre; pour un nouveau théâtre populaire (1976). Following an automobile accident, he died on 3 January 1978 in Montreal.