As Elections Alberta defines it, “Scrutineers represent candidates at voting locations to ensure fairness and transparency and to observe the election procedures and the counting of ballots.” I’ve been a scrutineer several times. While scrutineers have a right to be in a voting place, I also consider it a privilege to participate in the process. The ability of any individual to take part in the process of selecting our political leaders is the foundation of our democratic society.

Scrutineers represent a specific party and candidate, but they wear a badge that identifies them only by their role. They swear an oath of secrecy and good conduct. They agree that they won’t campaign or otherwise try to influence voters; they’re not even permitted to wear buttons or carry signs aligning themself to a candidate or party. By law, polling stations must be neutral environments. But not only are scrutineers expected to observe neutrality, they help uphold it by paying attention to how carefully other parties’ scrutineers follow the rules.

Ideally each candidate will have a scrutineer at each polling station all day, but that’s not always the case, depending on the candidate or their party’s ability to attract volunteers. I recall one election when a scrutineer only showed up for the count at the very end of election day—and quickly left after deciding their candidate had lost in that polling station!

Votes must be counted fairly and accurately. Scrutineering helps to ensure both.

Scrutineers have several important duties. They’re allowed to arrive up to 30 minutes before a voting place opens, before any votes have been cast, to verify that the ballot boxes are indeed empty. They can then observe the election process. They can view the record of electors who have voted (ideally when election officers aren’t processing a long lineup of voters!). They can challenge an elector they believe isn’t eligible to vote.

Scrutineers tend to work shifts, and some of them get to witness democracy at its most fundamental level—the hand-counting of ballots. When the polling station closes at the end of the day and has been secured for the count, election officers can provide scrutineers with a tally sheet to create an unofficial count. The officers then open the boxes and record how the ballots were cast. Scrutineers can view—but can’t touch—any ballot. They can object to an officer’s decision about how a ballot was cast, with each objection noted, but voting officers get the final say on how a ballot was cast.

As Canadian citizens we have a right to vote, but our vote must also be counted fairly and accurately. Scrutineering helps to ensure both.

If you’re interested in politics you’ll likely enjoy the opportunity to be a scrutineer. Election day is already exciting and full of anticipation, all of which is amplified when you’re actually in a polling station. Knowing that you played a critical role in the fairness and transparency of the vote and the count is very rewarding. An added benefit is that you develop a deeper understanding of your community. I’ve always thought I “knew” my neighbours until I began scrutineering. I was sometimes surprised to see who showed up at my poll!

To be a scrutineer, you don’t need to be an expert in the electoral process. Parties and candidates often provide training, and Elections Alberta staff are extremely knowledgeable and have always answered my questions. To scrutineer for the current election, contact your preferred candidate or party—they’ll be glad to hear from you. See you on election day!

Sara-Jane Greutzner lives in Calgary.
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Klein wanted to silence the Parkland Institute after a speaker at our conference harshly criticized his government’s response to growing poverty rates in the province. It wasn’t the first time the premier reacted publicly to a Parkland book, report or event, and it wouldn’t be the last. Throughout Klein’s tenure as premier he referred to Parkland as “factually challenged,” “communist,” and “spending too much time in liquor stores.”

Klein’s reaction to Parkland’s work is important because it speaks directly to the institute’s reason for existence. Parkland was founded in 1996 as a direct response to two dynamics. First, after the 1993 provincial election, the only political parties represented in the Alberta Legislature had run on platforms of severe austerity and privatization. At the same time, the media landscape in Alberta had changed to the point where the only ideas being reported on and talked about were those coming from far-right sources such as the Fraser Institute. The Parkland Institute was created with the explicit purpose of broadening the scope of debate in Alberta by challenging the dominant paradigm and the regressive policies coming from the Legislature with well-researched and evidence-based alternatives.

Of Parkland’s many “practical accomplishments,” perhaps one of the most significant is the creation of progressive debate and policy alternatives. Since the 1997 launch of our first book, Shredding the Public Interest, by Kevin Taft, Parkland has published six books and more than 100 peer-reviewed reports, held numerous conferences and events, and worked tirelessly to get an airing in both mainstream and alternative media. All of this work has not only resulted in the development of public interest alternatives to government policy but served to put those alternatives into the hands of individuals and organizations across the province—people and groups willing and able to use that information to influence public discourse and ultimately government policy.

One of the best examples of Parkland’s influence on public discourse over the years is the issue of natural resource royalties. In 1999 we published a report highlighting how little Alberta was collecting in royalties compared to Alaska and Norway. At the time, no one in Alberta had thought to question whether Albertans were receiving a fair amount for their collectively owned resources, nor dared suggest that royalties should be much higher. Although the report received a rough ride from government and industry, Albertans noticed. By 2006, after continued research and active dissemination, the notion that royalties were too low had entered the mainstream to the extent that it was debated in the Progressive Conservative leadership race. Premier Ed Stelmach felt compelled to launch a high-profile review. Since then, Parkland has continued to promote alternative royalty policies, but also expanded our energy research to include analysis of the economic and political power of fossil fuel corporations in the province and the serious implications for our democracy and the global climate crisis.

Parkland has also had significant influence on the debate over the privatization of public services. Municipally, Edmonton city councillors were able to use Parkland research to stop the privatization of EPCOR, the largest municipally owned power and water company in Canada at the time. This has resulted in significant economic returns for Edmonton. To this day, every time the idea of selling EPCOR or other municipal services is considered, Edmontonians, the media and city councillors reach out to Parkland Institute for its research and commentary.

Thanks to Parkland’s assessment of the failures of liquor store privatization in Alberta, it has also become the go-to source for information and media commentary when any provincial government, anywhere in the country, considers the possibility of increasing privatization in their liquor retail sector.

Two areas where Parkland’s work against austerity and privatization have had the most impact are healthcare and seniors care. With two bestselling books and dozens of reports making the case for public funding and delivery of healthcare, Parkland research has been critical in helping Albertans fight back against the numerous incursions by our governments against the public healthcare system, from stopping Klein’s “third way” to challenging Kenney’s privatization of Alberta’s lab services.

Likewise, Parkland’s ongoing exposure of inferior results in private elder care compared to public care—which outcomes have led to today’s crisis in seniors care—has been at the core of the pushback by community advocacy groups against increased privatization of seniors care.

Parkland research, commentary and events will continue to play a central role in providing Albertans with the information and alternatives they need to actively engage in the issues and decisions that affect their lives.

Given that Albertans now face a UCP government agenda of austerity and privatization, the work of the Parkland Institute seems more important than ever. As the Kenney government brands any dissent as anti-Albertan, uses its war room to attack any questions about Alberta’s energy and environmental policies, and brings in legislation such as Bill 32 to silence the voices of working Albertans, the space for public debate narrows. Unfortunately, given the mainstream media is less open to dissenting voices, the health of our democracy and vibrancy of our public spaces are at risk.

But thanks to Parkland’s many supporters and growing network, its work of publishing and disseminating policy alternatives will continue to inspire a healthy progressive vision of the future of Alberta. By creating space for public conversations such as our 25th annual conference, running November 19–21, 2021, we hope to inspire people to make their voices heard about the Alberta and world they want. This is the accomplishment Ralph Klein and other political and corporate elite feared—and failed to silence. The Parkland Institute is proud of our accomplishments and we know we will continue to be an essential voice in our democracy.

Ricardo Acuña is on leave from his position as the long-time (from 2002) executive director of the Parkland Institute. Bill Moore-Kilgannon is the acting executive director.

The post Defending the Public Interest appeared first on Alberta Views.

In March 2020 the Government of Alberta announced the removal of 164 parks and the closure of 20 campsites and day-use areas, impacting a total of 175 parks and recreation areas. The lack of clarity and consultation left many, including myself, feeling confused and betrayed. These parks helped foster my love for the outdoors and inspired my degree and career in the environmental field. Delisting protected areas can cause irreversible environmental damage. In response, the Canadian Parks and Wilderness Society alongside the Alberta Environment Network launched their Defend Alberta Parks campaign to raise awareness and encourage Albertans to send letters to their MLAs.

Flashforward to May, into my home-office cluttered with art supplies and stacks of unfinished artwork. In my spare time I create art inspired by the outdoors. I’m certainly no professional, nor had I ever used my art for activism. But the government’s decision and its continued lack of clarity was weighing on me. Due to the pandemic, any gatherings to protest the decision had been postponed. While Defend Alberta Parks had gained traction, and Albertans were spreading the word, there were so many more people to reach. I felt I could channel my frustration and creative energy in support of the cause. I decided to make a commitment: to create one painting for each affected park and donate any sales to CPAWS Northern Alberta (my home chapter) and Defend Alberta Parks. That extra cup of coffee swayed me into posting to social media some videos outlining my “master plan.” 

And then the magnitude of the issue and my goal sank in. Since 175 parks were affected, this meant 175 paintings. Uh-oh. But before I had time to second-guess my decision, my phone started to ping. To my surprise, people immediately reached out, offering to donate artwork or spread the word. While this support was reassuring and motivating, it was also intimidating. I now had to follow through. CPAWS also reached out to connect. That was huge. We teamed up to launch Art for Alberta Parks and were off to the races.

What started as an impulsive idea evolved into a grassroots art project whose goal was to foster awareness, share the beauty of Alberta’s wild spaces, and help keep parks public and protected using passion for art.

We planned an online art sale. Word spread and encouragement came from people I’d never met. Still, I had self-doubt, questioning my abilities and the project’s worth. But as the art began to come in my confidence was restored. Seeing how each artist represented the parks gave me bursts of optimism and inspiration. Some told stories of their connection and memories of family outings to parks. People really believed in what we were doing.

In the end, 25 artists created over 80 works to celebrate Alberta’s parks and protected areas. Each came from a different background, contributed an original style or had a different relationship to the issue. Together we raised over $6,000—and nearly sold out within hours! I was shocked. Whatever expectations we’d had were far exceeded.

Did we end up creating a piece of art for every park No. Was $6,000 enough to reverse the government’s decision No. But I now realize it was less about the art created or the money raised and more about the people we connected. Art for Alberta Parks created a platform. Whether someone made art, bought art or just shared our posts, they were engaged. And that is so powerful.

We used this project and our passion to speak up for a cause we believe in. And those who bought a piece of art have a lasting reminder of the beauty and importance of these places. 

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My foggy memory of the early days of lockdown won’t allow me to pinpoint the exact moment a bolt of insight changed my view. But when it hit me, it hit me: Much of what causes people and families to fall through the cracks in our society is outside their control, and their needs should be met regardless—as a human right. Further, if every citizen’s basic needs were automatically met, it would empower us all to build richer lives and put our time and energy into endeavours that enrich our communities and stimulate the economy. (Full disclosure: I’m a newbie in a movement that many far-sighted people have been committed to for decades.)

I began to feel a fire in my belly, so I got to work researching, poking around to see what kind of UBI advocacy was being done locally and nationally. Through a Toronto-based advocacy group working to spearhead rallies all over the country for International Basic Income Week (in September), I found myself volunteering to organize a rally in Edmonton, because no one had yet done so. I knew a rally was a big thing to take on, with two small kids at home (full time, given school closures) and with the pandemic’s ever-changing circumstances. But I’d become passionate enough that I needed a concrete and useful thing to pour that energy into. And as an independent musician, I’ve organized plenty of events—creating a rally seemed a reasonable enough fit for my skill set.

Organizing felt pretty daunting at first, because I didn’t yet know the lay of the land in terms of the advocacy community. As a solo singer-songwriter who for a long time preferred to work alone, I’ve learned the hard way that creative endeavours are always stronger when done in and with community. I knew I had to figure out who in Edmonton was already doing work around UBI, and then put a team together to plan the event.

I was lucky to get filmmaker Don Bouzek on board right away. We agreed that for the rally to be a success we had to involve the UBI advocacy community as much and as soon as possible, particularly because we were both upstarts in the movement. We spent a good two months reaching out, making connections, meeting on Zoom and getting a sense of the huge variety of sectors and populations with a vested interest in the issue (and what their shared and differing priorities are). Only then did we get down to the nitty gritty of programming the rally.

It was challenging to assemble a lineup that represented the full scope of people and communities who’d benefit from UBI—because that’s pretty much everybody! But we were very pleased with how it panned out, with speeches from former city councillor and Coalition Canada Basic Income member Michael Phair, Cynthia Palmaria of Migrante Alberta (which advocates for migrant workers) and Julie Heffel of the Self-Advocacy Federation (representing the disabilities community). We had fantastic performances by singers/drummers Chubby Cree, poet Kaz Mega, and Tzadeka (a.k.a. Maigan van der Giessen, who also emceed).

Since music is my primary mode of communication and activism, I performed my song “Cry Out,” which is about the strength in vulnerability, and how sometimes we have to let things fall apart to gain the wisdom and insight to build them back better. COVID-19 has shaken our society at its foundations and exposed gaping cracks in our social systems. It’s time we created a Universal Basic Income as the first step in building a more equitable, just, compassionate and functional society.

The post Rallying for Universal Basic Income appeared first on Alberta Views.

I blame it on Ed Stelmach.

My blog, The Soapbox, was born in 2010 out of frustration with the former premier and his predecessors, who hobbled our public services by convincing us that if we took care of the economy (read: the energy sector), the economy would take care of us. We couldn’t ask corporations to pay more in taxes or royalties when they were making record profits, these Conservatives told us, because we’d kill the golden goose. And we couldn’t ask them to pay more when times were tough because, well, times were tough.

They painted us into a corner. I wanted to know why, so I wrote my MLA, the opposition MLAs and my local paper asking for answers. The only people who responded were opposition MLAs. And nothing changed.

So I joined the blogosphere. It took a while to get the tone right—no one wants to read turgid legal prose—but eventually I found my voice. Readers responded. They suggested ideas and sent me background materials. They also corrected my math and fixed my spelling, for which I am eternally grateful.

With the help of my IT specialist (my daughter), who keeps me from having a flaming meltdown every time WordPress issues an update, the blog has been running for 10 years. It has led to media interviews, writing assignments and my fair share of trolls.

The Soapbox strives to reinforce an important message: Citizens who live in a democracy must have a voice in how they are governed. To have a voice, citizens must first understand what their government is doing and why.

Citizens must have a voice. To do so we must first understand what our government is doing—and why.

For example, unlike past governments, the Kenney government swamps us with a tsunami of legislation. It is difficult to keep up, let alone to understand what they’re doing. Mr. Kenney has said, by way of explaining his approach to legislating, “speed creates its own momentum.” It also creates confusion, which is ideal if you’re trying to slip something by the electorate.

That’s where the blog comes in. The more the Kenney government muddies the waters, the harder I strive to provide clarity. I ask: What is the purpose of this legislation What problem is it trying to solve Is it a real problem or a pretend problem I pay particular attention when Mr. Kenney speaks, because he is a master at using bombast to obscure flawed policies.

Mr. Kenney, for example, passed legislation allowing corporations to own hospitals and employ doctors, ostensibly to provide “choice” and reduce wait times. The best research, however, shows privatization reduces wait times only for those who can afford to pay and increases wait times for everyone else. The legislation doesn’t create “choice”; it creates a two-tier healthcare system.

Blogging serves another function. Readers comment on posts, share ideas and amplify the message. We become better informed and more powerful. We know we can’t toss the Kenney government out of office before 2023, but we can slow it down.

Anyone who cares about the public good is an activist at heart. Speak up! Make yourself heard. Blog, start a Facebook group, attend a rally, join one of the many interest groups springing up across the province or plant a Defend Alberta Parks sign on your lawn. Be a part of the democratic process. Alberta will become a better place if you do.

And, just for the record, I am not now nor have I ever been a member of a communist party. But I will admit to squashing chocolate bonbons to find the ones with the squishy pink centres.

Calgary’s Susan Wright blogs on Alberta politics at susanonthesoapbox.com.

The post Blogging the Revolution appeared first on Alberta Views.

When we immigrated to Canada, my Toronto middle-school was entirely different. Girls could voice their opinions, attend gym and feel valued. I felt a deep sense of responsibility to use the freedoms I had to empower others. But I didn’t know how.

As I grew I realized that although my life as a young woman was much better than it could have been, there was still so far to go, even in Canada. Women were still disproportionately subjected to sexual and domestic violence, earned less than men, and were the primary caregivers in their households. When I turned on the TV or read newspapers I saw few women role models.

I fell into politics in my mid-twenties. Now living in Calgary, I attended a political event out of curiosity and decided to get more engaged. One day a (woman!) party staffer asked me point-blank what I cared about. I pictured the girls in my elementary school, locked away from the world, and said that I wanted to see more women elected to office. Turns out I wasn’t alone. The staffer put me in touch with Kara Levis, who was heading up a women’s commission. Together we rallied women to support that party’s women candidates in the 2015 federal election.

We’d hit a nerve. In 2016 only two out of 15 council seats in Calgary were held by women. That needed to change.

After that election Kara and I went to lunch with our friend Kerry Cundal and talked about the fantastic women we’d met while campaigning. Most of them had never thought about running themselves. We talked about how few women were on Calgary’s city council, and how great it would be if more women ran. We wondered why more women didn’t, and whether it was because so few were asked. And then we had a lightbulb moment—if no one was asking women to run, we would do it. We looped in another friend, Lindsay Amantea, and Ask Her was born.

We built Ask Her around three goals: to generate public awareness about the lack of women on council, to encourage women to run and to provide tangible support to women candidates. We had limited resources, but we were tenacious. I used an app to make a logo. To spread the word, we made our friends and family follow our social media accounts. And when we sent out a release, directly messaging journalists on Twitter, they actually responded.

We’d hit a nerve. In 2016 only two out of 15 council seats in Calgary were held by women. Calgarians knew that needed to change. We aimed to double the number of women who had run in the previous election. We met dozens of women for coffee and asked them to run. Often they had the same hesitation: They were inexperienced, unqualified, unready. They asked me why I wasn’t running. I realized I ought to walk the walk—or run the run. So I resigned from the organization and ran.

In 2013 eight women ran for council; in 2017 over double the number—21—ran. Calgary elected three women to council, a 50 per cent increase. Imagine what council could look like next time…! The current Ask Her board, a group of dynamic women, is working hard to recruit and prepare women for the municipal elections of 2021.

Our world right now can seem bleak. But when I feel hopeless I remember how powerless I felt as a child. We have the freedom to take action. We need to use it and act to build a better world around us. I urge you: Identify what matters to you. Find like-minded people. Get together and brainstorm how to make change. Then do it.

Esmahan Razavi co-founded Ask Her.

The post Asking Women to Run appeared first on Alberta Views.

A bull trout is guided-missile grey, utilitarian and lethal. They resemble baseball bats with fins and gills. Stepping into Hidden Creek every year creates anticipation, the chance to observe a large female being attended by her suitors, an ancient drama of survival. It takes me back to being 10 years old and seeing my first bull trout, beneath an immense log jam I had clambered out on.

I initiated spawning surveys for bull trout in the 1990s and have come back, as a volunteer, for the past 12 years to monitor spawning success. Why slog up a stream, slipping and sliding on slick rocks, year after year Because watching, measuring and recording is one way an individual can ensure things, like our provincial fish, don’t slip through the cracks in an ecologically unconscious world. Consistent observations over a long time provide a sense of the trend in populations—are they stable, increasing or decreasing?

In Hidden Creek I’ve observed spawning—measured by the number of redds (depressions in stream gravels created by female trout to lay their eggs)—decline from over 100 redds in 2008 to just one in 2019. What happened The precipitous decline started after the catastrophic floods of 2013 and coincident clear-cut logging.

With no one watching, this would have gone unnoticed. Did bull trout decide to go elsewhere Maybe. But other streams are impacted by a combination of logging and unregulated off-highway vehicle use. Both of these activities add sediment to the stream gravels, cementing them so a bull trout would have to use a pickaxe to create a redd.

Routine things like redd counts aren’t done by provincial agencies anymore. This creates a void for effective decisions about land use such as additional logging, coal development, motorized recreational use, random camping, well sites, pipelines and road developments. It’s easier to make decisions about land uses if there isn’t information available on the status of fish and wildlife populations. Out of sight becomes out of mind.

The excuses are we can’t afford to measure everything, and not everything measured counts. But I argue everything that counts isn’t being measured, such as water quality, stream flow, the footprint of land use, the number of native trout. I can measure bull trout redds and watch the decreasing trend over time. Native trout abundance and distribution are a good measure of watershed health—something fish and humans alike depend on.

University students occasionally accompany me—an opportunity to create additional advocates for watersheds and bull trout. My waders, with secret weapon traction, enable me to outpace them, a guilty pleasure. Focusing on staying upright is also a chance to get into the zen of a stream course—the inexorable power of flowing water carving a channel amid boulders, fallen logs and the old-growth spruce and willow of the banks, in a sinuous, endlessly repeating but constantly varied pattern.

In a context of government inaction, my efforts can motivate, energize and perhaps goad people to act. So next September I’ll again be wading up Hidden Creek, bearing witness for bull trout.

Lorne Fitch is a retired Fish and Wildlife biologist in Alberta with 50 years experience.

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We called the site Pekiwewin, which is nehiyawewin (Cree) for “inbound” or “coming home,” and established it as an anti-police-violence, emergency relief and prayer camp that uses a harm-reduction approach for people sleeping rough. The camp is led by Indigenous 2-Spirit women and femme folks working in solidarity with First Nations, Black, LGBTQ2S and settler allies.

As organizers we’re focused on demands that have arisen from the societal hardships and abuse witnessed by the people, now 400 daily, who live and use services at Pekiwewin. We’re calling for a formal review, using a harm-reduction lens, of racist bylaws—including trespassing and loitering fines—that perpetually erode the security, safety and dignity of people with no fixed address and communities with lived experiences of houselessness. We want an end to the destruction of their property and to forcible removal of encampments.

We demand that city council divest $39-million from its police budget. We want the City to use that money to create more transitional support services for community members who were previously institutionalized, the key demographic of which are urban Indigenous people.

The land Pekiwewin sits on has been used as a ceremonial and gathering place for Indigenous people since time immemorial. The municipality has repurposed this land as a parking lot for baseball fans. The inherent disrespect in the appropriation of this sacred space makes it imperative that Edmonton’s municipal government commit to a more appropriate use of this land.

Poverty, disenfranchisement and police violence are also public health crises in their own right.

Workers from frontline social services agencies have helped to create and operate Pekiwewin camp. Organizers have no budget or formal agency support. Workers dedicated to Pekiwewin have supported more than 150 tent homes without funding from federal, provincial or municipal governments; we rely on donations for our six outhouses. Volunteers are spread thin, but we staff the camp around the clock. We have provided 24/7 access to life-saving harm-reduction supplies and other health care to dozens of community members.

A huge barrier to services and safety in our community is the lack of free public transit, which denies to many people the right to move between spaces. The City of Edmonton was able to provide transit on a free, emergency basis during the height of the COVID-19 crisis. It can and must do so beyond the pandemic as well.

But the opioid crisis, and the fact that poverty, disenfranchisement and police violence are also public health crises in their own right, have been ignored and denied by multiple levels of government. The Government of Alberta has slashed funding and removed supports for supervised consumption sites. Deaths by overdose will once again increase in Alberta despite harm-reduction having been proven to work. The number of tents at Pekiwewin grew this summer as the City of Edmonton closed emergency shelters at the Kinsmen Sport Centre and Expo Centre.

Pekiwewin meets people in the community where they’re at. By safeguarding people’s dignity and acknowledging the complex systemic onslaught of oppression that our community members are up against, Pekiwewin has, for many people, become home. The camp will remain so for as long as is necessary to force society to make systemic changes.

Shima Robinson is the media liaison for Camp Pekiwewin.

The post Encamping for Change appeared first on Alberta Views.

I went to my first ever climate protest on March 15, 2019. Seeing over 400 young people with so much energy and passion, I knew climate activism was something I had to do. So I kept going. Every Friday at noon, despite what some administrators, parents and classmates said about it, I would skip school and head down to Calgary City Hall. I’ve learned that there are more important things in life than being popular and following the rules.

As good as it feels to strike, it hasn’t always been smooth sailing. Sometimes it’s just me and four other young people with signs, smiling through all the weird looks and whispers. But the feeling of striking always outweighs the negatives. I look forward to the bit of hope that the Friday protests provide in the midst of what sometimes feels like a bleak climate situation. When a hopeless feeling prevails, I remind myself of the time a woman stopped to talk to us. She thanked us for being there and told us to never stop fighting, because she believed we could change the world. Her words were refreshing and left an impact on me. Moments like these make protest worth it.

Before the COVID-19 pandemic, our numbers had started to increase. We’d had 30 to 50 people every Friday. But as our numbers increased so did public criticism. Living in oil and gas Alberta, we had become accustomed to a fair amount of heckling, but the greater our numbers, the more threatened people felt by our presence.

The feeling of striking outweighs the negatives. I look forward to the bit of hope it provides.

At Fridays for Future Calgary we are strongly pro-worker and in no way want the immediate shutdown of the oil and gas industry. Instead we want a just transition away from fossil fuels and an embrace of policies such as the Green New Deal. But I’ve learned that some people have a hard time listening to younger people. Many resort to the classy middle finger out the car window or shout things like “Hypocrite!” or “Go back to school!” Others like to argue with us about facts. Alternative climate theories abound, involving sunspots or volcanic energy. To those people we present the science. While we know some minds can’t be changed, every one is worth the effort.

Of course, everything is different now. In the face of the pandemic, our approach to strikes has changed. As of March 8, 2020, we decided to go digital, to avoid congregating in large groups and to help prevent the spread of the virus. Going digital means sending in or posting a photo of yourself with your sign with the comment #climatestrikeonline.

We hope this terrible virus is only temporary, and we want to get back to the streets as soon as possible. If the virus has taught me anything, it’s that radical change is possible. In a matter of weeks our global, national and local communities have come together and changed the way we live our everyday lives. Our government has put in place strict policies, and citizens are doing as they have been asked, all for the good of society.

It’s my hope and the hope of many climate activists that once the risk of COVID-19 is over, our political leaders will treat the climate crisis with the same urgency as they did a pandemic. Until then we will continue to do the morally rewarding but occasionally frustrating work of protesting. It has become the burden of young people to pressure our leaders to make the changes our planet needs. That is my job. And I love it.

Katherine Arich is a 16-year-old climate activist in Calgary with Fridays for Future.

The post Striking for Climate Action appeared first on Alberta Views.

When the 2013 floods came to Calgary I was evacuated, since my house was too close for comfort to the Bow River. My grandmother woke me up in the middle of the night and told me we had to leave; I was scared that our house and our city would be damaged. We stayed at a friend’s house on higher ground and school was cancelled for the rest of the year. Our house wasn’t damaged, but the city certainly was.

Nowadays I prefer to bike to school. Unfortunately, the smoke from last year’s forest fires meant I was unable to do so. The route to my school has a couple of hills that are sometimes difficult to get up. I couldn’t overexert myself and breathe in too much smoke. Two years ago my summer camp had to suspend activities because of the smoke, and my sister had to evacuate her camp (a different one than mine) because a fire had gotten too close.

When I was in Jasper last summer, I saw whole mountainsides covered in dead trees from pine beetles, and I continue to see them at my ski hill.

The climate crisis is affecting us today. We’re being deprived of our right to life, liberty and personal security.

I know that all of these things—disasters forcing me from my home, dirty air, changing landscapes—haven’t been caused solely by the climate crisis, but their severity and regularity have increased because of it. I’m worried they’ll happen even more often, with greater force. Lots of people think the climate crisis is something that will happen in the future, but they’re wrong; it’s affecting us now and has been for awhile. We—youth especially—are being deprived today of our right to life, liberty and personal security.

I enjoy spending time in the outdoors skiing, biking and hiking. This makes me appreciate our world beyond the bustling cities. I want to protect natural habitats and make sure they’re there for future generations to appreciate. In thinking like this, I’m far from alone.

COVID-19 shows that in times of panic and distress the world can work together toward a common goal. I hope to see this with the climate crisis—the whole of humanity, working together. We are not the black or the white. We are not the rich or the poor. We are not women or men. We are all people, working together. We are Earth.

I want to protect my future and everyone else’s. But I can’t vote, which is the main way people in our society make change happen. Joining a lawsuit is an option for people under 18, which includes most of our 15 litigants. We’re asking for a science-based climate recovery plan in line with what the best evidence says is needed. This is the only such lawsuit against our federal government, but it’s part of a global youth climate movement that includes many cases around the world.

Some people aren’t happy about the changes I and many other Canadians want. But good research says transitioning from fossil fuels to renewable energy will not only help us avert crisis but benefit our economy.

The government needs to treat the changing climate like a crisis. They can’t see our forests and our parks and our natural, beautiful places as just sources of short-term profit; they are our sources of joy, and they should be for the long term. That’s why I’m taking action today: to ask our government to take even greater action on behalf of all Canadians.

Sadie Vipond is a youth climate activist. She lives in Calgary.

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