Actually, The Glasses And T-Shirt Are A Good Look On Him | Hike Hudema, defiant as ever.
Two figures in orange hazard suits sit on a pipe over a tailings pond in a desert landscape. A white banner over the pipe bears a black skull and the words “Stop The Tar Sands.”
That’s the latest image from Greenpeace, a fittingly grandiose gesture as the Alberta chapter approaches its one-year anniversary in the province. Their direct-action protest on July 24 took place at the Syncrude Aurora tailings ponds—the same pond where 500 ducks died in April.
The protest involved 25 activists in total, 11 of whom actually entered the restricted tailings pond area. It was filmed from a plane above and the footage was posted on YouTube. Local, national, and international media covered the action.
In the past year, the local Greenpeace chapter has participated in many such high-profile protests. In November, four protesters hung a “Stop The Tar Sands” banner from the High Level Bridge. Lithe, young activists jumped from the ceiling of the Shaw Conference Centre and unfurled a similar banner during a fundraising dinner for Ed Stelmach.
And Mike Hudema has been everywhere. Since taking on the tar sands campaigner job with Alberta Greenpeace a year ago, the Medicine Hat native and 10-year veteran activist has been literally unavoidable. Even his Facebook updates tell friends and acquaintances what environmental conference he’s attending.
As a transit-riding, global-warming believer, my ears are tuned to Hudema’s message. But even I have to wonder where these banners are leading. If “raising awareness” is the group’s sole goal, then mission accomplished! The reams of quotes and photos that have appeared in the media are all the evidence you need of Greenpeace’s success. Their increasingly daring stunts gain blanket media coverage. I don’t think you could find a person in Alberta who doesn’t think the oilsands are a top political issue, whatever their stance on the actual development of the sands happens to be.
“Everything we do is about getting the message out,” Hudema says. “We don’t necessarily do it to get the media to focus on how we got in or how we got past security, but why we were there. We were there because we have a premier that’s not listening to citizens, and is letting industry monitor themselves. That needs to be called out. If we can do that in a dramatic fashion, then that’s what we do, because all the other doors to public engagement have already been closed.”
But have these dramatic actions translated into real-world changes? Maybe Stelmach was embarrassed. Maybe the group’s message was transmitted around the world. The Alberta government’s policy in the oilsands still hasn’t changed.
Hudema considers himself a “louder mouthpiece” for the majority of Albertans who oppose the oilsands, but those same Albertans elected a majority Conservative government with a very weak climate change plan and no intention of slowing down development.
New oilsands projects are still being approved. Tailings ponds are still filling with wastewater to the tune of 1.8 billion litres per day, according to environmental think tank the Pembina Institute. Internationally, mayors in the United States recently called for a ban on oilsands fuel in municipal vehicles, but the tide of 1.4 million litres of bitumen flowing to the United States hasn’t abated.
Even Hudema says, “There’s nothing to celebrate yet.”
Two Sides Shouting No
After the 500 ducks died in Syncrude tailings ponds in April, Greenpeace met with Environment Minister Rob Renner.
The minister had already stated publicly he would not order an independent investigation of the incident. So they asked for a timeline on the government investigation, requesting the government report at least be made entirely public. Renner rejected their requests.
“It’s been a difficult relationship,” says Hudema. “A lot of that is their stance that they are not going to admit that there are any problems. It’s very hard to start a dialogue.”
The environment ministry feels the same way. Kim Capstick, environment spokesperson, says there was no way they could fulfill Greenpeace’s requests regarding the duck report. The investigation could result in legal actions, and it would be inappropriate to say what details could be released or give any predictable time frame.
Furthermore, the government is dedicated to further development in the oilsands. “When a group comes into the conservation flat out refusing to be open to the development piece, it’s difficult to come up with solutions,” she says.
(Renner, Energy Minister Mel Knight, and Renewable Resources Minister Ted Morton did not respond to interview requests for this article.)
Syncrude spokesperson Mark Kruger says the company wishes Greenpeace would open up a dialogue in a “lawful manner.” He also pointed to Syncrude’s continuing engagement with multi-stakeholder groups such as the Cumulative Environmental Management Association (CEMA), as proof of their willingness to engage in a debate about how Alberta’s resources are developed.
But CEMA has been widely criticized as ineffective and weighted in industry’s favour. The Keepers of the Water, a coalition of environmentalists and First Nations groups, has specifically stayed out of such government-led consultations because the talks almost never lead to action.
So what’s an environmental activist to do?
Alberta has always been tough on activists, says Laurie Adkin, a University of Alberta political scientist who has studied the effect of the environmental and labour movements on industrial development. “I’ve been here for 17 years,” she says. “You see one wave after another of young activists trying to change something, and then we have the March election over and over and over again. And you wonder what kind of political organizing could possibly change anything here.”
The groups that oppose the oilsands have a fraction of the resources that industry can muster, and nowhere near the level of political access that would enable them to influence policy. When the minister of the environment says ‘No, no, no,’ how else are you suppose to get attention, she asks, other than cause a disturbance?
Simon Dyer, a senior policy analyst with the Pembina Institute, agrees. Although his group takes a much more reseach-oriented approach to the oilsands, participates in CEMA, and has been in the game for much longer than Greenpeace, he appreciates that Hudema’s stunts draw attention to the issue.
“We are still on the awareness-raising curve,” he says. And indeed, it may be too early to determine what effect the combined efforts of all the environmental groups have been on Alberta policy. After all, the last three big oilsands mining projects were only approved in 2006. The next project up for approval, a Total mine, will give environmentalists and Albertans a better sense of the situation, he says.
But Adkin isn’t giving Greenpeace a free pass. She’s been critical of the group, and the environmental movement in general, for their failure to form partnerships with workers and other groups. Greenpeace has improved recently, but unfurling high-flying banners are not actions that are geared to long-term, broad-based engagement here in Alberta.
“Greenpeace is not an organization that works on building grassroots alliances,” she argues. “It’s an organization that uses vanguard actions. They are very frustrated and impatient with the lack of action when they move into a campaign, and they want to make something happen.”
But Hudema says the provincial government and the media deliberately play up the radical angle in their stories about Greenpeace. His organization’s more nuanced arguments about investing in alternative forms of energy, on the other hand, don’t fit into a short soundbite, and so don’t get on the evening news.
Of course, the group doesn’t think the oilsands will be shut down tomorrow, he says. First, they need to convince the government not to approve any new projects. Then they will begin lobbying for a phase-out plan. At the same time, they must work with the government to build a sustainable economy founded on “green-collar jobs.”
And the group has partnered with landowner groups such as Citizens for Responsible Development (the group fighting the upgraders in Sturgeon and Strathcona counties), as well as environmental groups such as the Sierra Club.
“It’s a myth that Greenpeace is only about stunts,” he says.
Outside Pressure
But Greenpeace did build their reputation on protests designed to shock and embarrass. Their recent attempt to block a tailings pond pipe is a classic example of the high-profile and dangerous actions they are known for, and that are guaranteed blanket media coverage.
The strategy has worked internationally. Consider the seal hunt in Newfoundland, says Adkin. The Greenpeace videos, it could be argued, led the European Union to ban the import of seal products.
NDP leader Brian Mason says he welcomes the attention Greenpeace has focused on the oilsands here at home, but adds that the NDP was already concerned about the pace of development, as were many other groups. It’s not like Greenpeace landed a year ago and totally changed the way Albertans were thinking. Their work in the United States, on the other hand, could really change the playing field.
“Even though the Alberta government has their head in the sands, the rest of the world doesn’t,” Mason says. “There’s a real risk that Greenpeace might persuade significant governments in the rest of the world to stop buying Alberta oil.”
Internationally, the discussion of Greenpeace’s success on the oilsands looks a lot different. If oilsands fuel were actually banned in the U.S., the economics of the oilsands would be drastically altered. The provincial government’s $25 million PR campaign to convince the rest of the world that Alberta’s tarnished environmental reputation is undeserved shows that Greenpeace has shaken their confidence, says Adkin.
And in a globalized world, big stunts that are picked up by international news organizations could be much more successful at changing people’s opinions, she says, than the work of local groups that quietly but consistently lobby government officials or keep their head down and beaver away on policy papers.
Ultimately, any successful movement needs a range of tactics, says Adkin. Stopping the oilsands will take consistent pressure from local landowners, NGOs, and voters. But if you want to reach the people actually using the product, suiting up in an orange hazard suit and trespassing on Syncrude property to sling up a banner could be the most effective action possible.
