As many will have noticed, I’m not a reporter. I write fiction and do a wit column, both of which come, for better or worse, from my own head. But on June 11 this year I attended a “Coal Town Hall” in Fort Macleod with the intention of “covering it.”
I’d been told to arrive early, in case either side tried to pack the house. The day was skillet-hot and a considerable swath of western Canada was on fire. Nonetheless a long line of folks was already forming. News coverage put the crowd at 500, wearing “cowboy hats, belt buckles and jeans.” Pardon me, but that’s a Yellowstone fantasy. It wasn’t a rodeo. People came in assorted attire. I got a seat near the front. Soon it was standing room only. Someone said the fire code had been reached.
The speakers—a UCP “A-Team”—took the stage: premier Danielle Smith, Brian Jean, Rebecca Schulz, RJ Sigurdson and local MLA (and moderator) Chelsae Petrovic. During intros I became aware that, for perhaps the first time in my life, I was at a political event where “my side” was in the majority.
The speakers began their spiels on mining, particularly the disputed Grassy Mountain project. They gave their takes on the Oldman River: whether selenium from coal was a risk to fish and people. All swirled to the conclusion that mining was fine. They claimed to have looked at every aspect, to have read peer-reviewed this and peer-reviewed that. They admitted to a few challenges but were still pro-mining. Often mentioned were the terrible, onerous mega-lawsuits threatened by Aussie coal moguls, who’d received promises and wanted their investment back with interest, plus billions more for inconvenience. Gina Rinehart et al. should be allowed to continue to moil for Crowsnest coal, lest we be sued into oblivion.
Sitting there, I mused that the advent of democracy might have been like this: shouting, fists shaking, wild.
Then the booing, hissing and shouts began. In response to the most dubious statements, small signs shot up: “Lie.” Liar.” “Betrayal.” It got loud. At times very loud. Your humble correspondent confesses he didn’t attempt journalistic neutrality. I had my own signs. I did a bit of shouting.
At times it got thunderous—and what a good feeling for a person who has listened to long miles of speeches about the essential harmless goodness of Alberta’s extractive industries. Having grown up a few hundred metres downwind of an “experimental” sour gas plant—from which my family often ran for their lives—I was exhilarated to hear folks of all kinds criticizing the provincial government at volume.
The illustrious panel began exhibiting signs of ire and discomfort. They might never before have faced a room so largely in disagreement with them. The pro-coal part of the crowd wasn’t cowed. They’re Albertans too, staunch and tough. They clapped and cheered when they felt their side had scored. But Anti-Coal had the numbers.
Sitting there, I mused that the advent of democracy might have been like this. At school we were shown square-bearded Athenian men in white tunics walking calmly to this or that side of the room, voting with their feet. But maybe it wasn’t like that. Maybe it was like this: shouting, fists shaking, wild. In any case I felt democracy had finally come to my place, and I was there to see it. Your humble scribe.
At one point Jean jumped to his feet and leapt into the crowd, like a rockstar, to give a guy his business card. Jean was roaring like a bull. Basically, he was saying: I’m everything to everyone! I snowmobile. My relatives are First Nations! Don’t tell me I don’t know about the environment. I’m from the oil sands! (I’m still confused by that one. I’ve screwed up landscapes bigger than this…?)
A favourite point by the government speakers was that the selenium problem is over-amped. Not a problem, really. These assertions got the loudest boos. This is one subject I have researched thoroughly. A recent study of the coal dust blowing from a mine in BC into Alberta’s Crowsnest Lake (from which a branch of the Oldman descends) found selenium in excess of what’s safe for fish. Some of the netted fish had deformed spines and gills. The crowd, which can also read studies, would not sit there quietly and be told that selenium in lakes and rivers is safe. Nor could they be told science was on top of the problem.
Ultimately, it came down to premier Smith. She spoke last and answered many questions from the audience. I must admit she’s good at remaining dignified and cool. Her body language said: You won’t rout me!
Some in the crowd seemed disgusted at both sides. The rude audience offended their sense of decorum. I won’t apologize, but I understand their point. Southern Albertans believe in manners. In our defence, we’ve been ignored and legislated against and polluted and lied to. Whatever we registered on the Rudeness Scale was a result of being smirked at and imperiously brushed off—not just that night but for decades.
To quote Joe Flaherty and John Candy playing hillbillies on SCTV: “It blew up real good!”
Fred Stenson’s many books include the novels Who By Fire, The Trade, Lightning and The Great Karoo.
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