Canada

Snoring in Paradise

Murderous thoughts are generally discouraged at Club Med. Leave it to the Canadians to send you to the brink.

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Once or twice a year, when I’ve grown tired of slinging chicken and beef at 30,000 feet, when the high-pitched shrill of passenger complaints reaches an unbearable crescendo, when my polyester uniform begins to cling to my body like an ugly second skin, I take advantage of my airline travel privileges and fly away for some well-deserved R&R. But sometimes, a vacation can be just as unnerving as the job — even if you’re lounging at Club Med.

Back bruised and aching, skin lightly broiled from the South Pacific sun, I hobbled to my thatch-roof bungalow on the French Polynesian island of Moorea. A moment earlier, I had been water skiing. Or to be more precise, I had been making an attempt at water skiing. During my third try I lost control and ended up with an intimate understanding of the agony of defeat.

Slowly, cautiously, I limped across the room and sat down next to the big, black duffel bag laying open on my bed. Because I was traveling alone and didn’t own a big, black duffel bag, the air grew thick with suspicion.

Shuffling Quasimodo-like, I searched the place for more signs of the intruder: In the bathroom I found a toothbrush with flattened bristles and a family-size bottle of Scope; beneath the bed, a pair of flip-flops large enough to fit Shaquille O’Neal; in the closet, a trio of exceptionally gaudy Hawaiian shirts. Baffled and a little pissed off, I left the bungalow and made my way to the check-in counter.

A stiff, humorless French G.O. (group organizer: a Club Med employee) eyed me from the opposing side of the desk. I told her that there had been a mistake — although I specifically requested a single, someone had been assigned to my room. Though I winced in pain during occasional pauses in my story, she remained expressionless. When I finished, she just looked at me. Abruptly, and with the casual indifference of a weary Parisian waiter, she stated that “zingal” room status allowed for the pairing of a roommate.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said. “A single room in any other lodgment usually indicates occupation by one individual.” She shrugged her shoulders, tossed her head to one side and hissed between her teeth. C’est la vie. The G.O. said that I must not have read the fine print in the contract (she said this and then grinned smugly as she had probably done to many “zingal” guests before me). A contract materialized. It turned out she was right.

Dejected, I hobbled back to the beach. Club Med Moorea is blessed by sugar-white sand that disappears beneath turquoise water far too beautiful for words. There, nudged by a gentle breeze that swept beneath twin coconut palms, I pouted like a first-class airplane passenger who’d been relegated to a center seat in coach.

Upon entering the bungalow later that evening I was greeted by George Langley, a jolly Canadian with the robust chuckle of a department-store Santa Claus. He extended his hand immediately and offered an apology that was as sincere as his smile. It seems the front desk G.O. had given him the “zingal” room lecture as well.

George turned out to be a great guy. We talked furiously throughout the all-you-can-eat dinner buffet, shared a couple of laughs at the campy Club Med cabaret show and later at the discotheque, besieged by bad music and too much beer, we spoke about our jobs. I told lurid stories about passengers screwing in airplane lavatories. He spoke passionately about corporate accounting. Despite our differences, we really hit it off. We clicked. We bonded.

The bond between two strangers loses considerable glue, however, when one has a habit that drives the other crazy.

George dozed off in his twin bed while I read a Stephen King thriller in mine. The protagonist had just stumbled over the tip of a buried alien spacecraft when my eyelids grew heavy. I flicked off the light and settled in for a good night’s sleep when suddenly, I heard THE SOUND.

My body went stiff. My eyes flew open like window shades. I prayed that my ears had deceived me. But like an earsplitting scream from a Roger Corman movie, the horrible sound repeated itself again and again and again. Mr. George Langley, my illustrious roommate, was snoring.

At first the racket was almost bearable. George whirred spasmodically in short raspy hitches, like an economy-car engine that wouldn’t catch. But the snoring deepened almost immediately, shifting into long, gargling reverberations that thundered in my ears like native drums at a virgin sacrifice. Finding it impossible to sleep through the noise, I was overtaken by an urge to strangle my unwanted roommate until every last gust of Canadian wind had been exorcised back to the provinces. An eleventh-hour wave of humanity washed over me before my trembling hands could find his neck. I decided on a more civilized course of action.

First, I buried my head in a pillow (smothering George might have been more appropriate). After nearly suffocating from that, I stumbled to the bathroom in the darkness and stuffed bits of toilet paper in my ears. The primitive earplugs not only didn’t work, but it took me 15 minutes with a pair of tweezers to remove a few stubborn shreds.

As a last resort, I limped over to my bed, donned my Walkman headphones and cranked up an Anita Baker tape to a volume sleep could withstand. That worked for a while, but George’s relentless howling drifted between pauses in Anita’s angelic voice like a backup singer from hell.

I’d had enough. I raised myself on one elbow and in a hushed voice called out to him.

“Hey, George.”

No response.

“George!”

Still nothing.

“Dammit, George!” I screamed. But the howling Canadian hurricane simply shifted to a position from which more damaging winds could be unleashed.

“GEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORGE!”

This time it worked. George’s snoring broke into a cacophony of snorts that sounded like a bush pig achieving orgasm.

Finally there was silence. Beautiful silence. I shut my eyes and prayed that I would fall asleep immediately. But just as I began to drift off, old George’s engine kicked over again, sputtering and roaring until 7 a.m.

Through swollen, bloodshot slits I watched my roommate wake up to a glorious day which had been handily ruined for me. After yawning for nearly 30 seconds, he leapt to his feet like a kid on Christmas morning. The mad Canadian whistled on his way to the bathroom. From there, he began to gargle with a fervor only a dentist could love. His gigantic flip-flops slapped violently against the floor during the triangular trek between bathroom, closet and dresser. Irrevocably dressed in Bermuda shorts and one of those eye-bulging Hawaiian shirts, George donned a pair of mirrored aerodynamic sunglasses and exited the room with a boom box tucked beneath one arm.

The following night I found myself curled up in bed, poring over the same novel. This time I was basking in the quietude of my own private room. One look at my puffy eyes, my exacerbated limp and my otherwise battered countenance, and the front desk G.O. felt sorry for me.

I flicked off the lamp, stretched out in bed and listened to the faint musical chirping of sleepy island crickets. Moonlight crept through spaces in the wooden shutters and the ceiling fan blew languid good-night kisses. Just before drifting off, I heard a whisper from the adjacent bungalow. The sound grew steadily. Louder. Louder still. To my abject horror, I realized that I shared a common wall with another snoremonger. Each time he inhaled, it sounded as if he were choking on a giant chicken bone.

Though Anita Baker tried to help me sleep for the second night in a row, her voice tired, warbled and finally gave up altogether. The batteries in my Walkman had died.

Elliott Neal Hester has been a flight attendant for 15 years. He has also written for National Geographic Traveler, Men's Fitness, Glamour, Maxim and Caribbean Travel & Life. Out of the Blue appears every other Friday. E-mail your tale of life in the sky to Hester. For more columns by Hester, visit his column archive.

Quebec students mark 100 days of tuition protests

Tuesday's protests came on the heels of a new emergency law that aims to to limit public protests

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Quebec students mark 100 days of tuition protestsThousands of protesters march through the streets of Montreal in a massive demonstration against tuition fee hikes on Tuesday, May 22, 2012. (AP Photo/The Canadian Press, Ryan Remiorz)(Credit: AP)

MONTREAL (AP) — Tens of thousands of students marched through the streets of Montreal to mark 100 days since the movement against higher tuition fees began. Tuesday’s protest came after Quebec’s provincial government passed emergency legislation intended to end Canada’s most sustained student demonstrations ever.

The peaceful protest turned more violent in the evening as demonstrators set off fireworks and threw beer bottles at police. Riot police responded with pepper spray. Police spokesman Simon Delorme said at least 100 people were arrested. Two police officers were injured, and four people were taken to the hospital. The extent of their injuries was not immediately known

Since the emergency law was passed Friday, nightly protests have often turned violent, resulting in some 300 arrests Sunday alone. The new law requires that a detailed agenda be provided for protests of more than 50 people.

Police declared the Tuesday night protest illegal after no one provided an itinerary. “They didn’t share the route, demonstrators were wearing masks and projectiles were thrown at police officers,” the Montreal police said on their Twitter feed.

Student groups have vowed to challenge the emergency legislation in court. Rights groups say the law limits protesters’ ability to express themselves democratically.

On the eve of Tuesday’s protest, the most militant of three major student groups said it would defy the new law and call for protests and strikes to continue throughout the summer, a busy period of outdoor festivals in Montreal which draws in millions of dollars in tourist revenue.

Quebec Premier Jean Charest has refused to roll back the tuition hikes of C$254 (US$249) per year over seven years. Quebec has the lowest tuition rates in Canada, and they would remain among the country’s lowest after the increases.

The conflict has caused considerable social upheaval in the French-speaking province known for having more contentious protests than elsewhere in Canada.

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Ontario legalizes brothels

In an effort to protect prostitutes, the Canadian province's top court strikes down some restrictions on sex work

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Ontario legalizes brothelsSex workers listen to a presentation at the 16th International AIDS conference in Toronto (Credit: Reuters/JP Moczulski)
This article originally appeared on GlobalPost.

Ontario’s top court has legalized brothels in the Canadian province, a ruling that is meant to protect the safety of sex workers.

Global PostThe landmark decision taken Monday, decided that the dangerous work of prostitution could be made more safe if it occurred under one roof with security staff, reported the Globe and Mail.

The Appeals Court of Ontario said that some of the country’s anti-prostitution laws were unconstitutional as they restricted the prostitute’s ability to protect themselves — a ruling already made by a lower court in 2010 but appealed by the provincial and federal governments.

The court also said that it would re-model the law against pimps, which prohibits living off the work of others by adding “in circumstances of exploitation,” reported PostMedia News.

This is thought to allow violent or manipulative pimps to be arrested, while permitting prostitutes to be able to hire drivers and security staff for their safety.

Prostitution is legal in Canada with many caveats.

According to the Associated Press, while sex work might be legal, soliciting sex and operating a brothel are both criminal acts.

While the latter provision was struck down, the court upheld the ban on soliciting sex in public.

According to the National Post, the new laws will likely prompt similar challenges in other provinces around the country.

The case was brought forward by an appeal by the provincial and federal governments, which opposed the earlier lower court ruling.

The case took nine months of deliberation and a week of oral arguments with more than 25,000 pages of evidence, according to the National Post.

Witnesses at the hearings included current and former prostitutes, police, activists, politicians and journalists.

Both sides said they will take their case to the Supreme Court of Canada if they lost.

The new laws, which will be binding in Ontario, will come into effect next year.

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Canada’s other pipeline project

After Keystone, Prime Minister Harper fights to keep the U.S. out of the Alberta oil sands debate

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Canada's other pipeline projectCanadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper speaks at the White House complex in Washington, Wednesday, Dec. 7, 2011 (Credit: AP Photo/Carolyn Kaster)
This article originally appeared on GlobalPost.

TORONTO, Canada — Prime Minister Stephen Harper has lashed out at American groups opposed to a pipeline that would allow oil from Alberta’s tar sands to be shipped to Asian and U.S. markets.

Global Post

Harper capped a week-long attack on U.S. environmentalists with a nationally televised interview Monday night, essentially telling American opponents of the proposed pipeline to butt out of Canada’s affairs.

The 731-mile Northern Gateway pipeline would run west from the massive oil sands deposits of northern Alberta — across pristine wilderness and more than 700 rivers and streams — to a proposed supertanker port on the Pacific coast of British Columbia.

Harper accused American groups of hijacking public hearings by a federal regulatory agency, which is assessing the environmental impact of the $6.6 billion pipeline project. Decisions on the development of Alberta’s oil sands should be left to Canadians, he said.

In an interview with the CBC, Canada’s publicly-funded broadcaster, Harper ridiculed U.S. environmentalists: “Certain people in the United States would like to see Canada be one giant national park for the northern half of North America,” he said.

More than 4,000 people have registered to have their say at the National Energy Board’s hearings. In earlier statements, Harper criticizing what he said was “the use of foreign money to really overload the public consultation phase of regulatory hearings just for the purpose of slowing down the process.”

Harper’s Conservative government is determined to find more markets for northern Alberta’s oil sands — tar-like bitumen deposits that cover an area the size of Florida.

Quick approval of the Gateway project became more urgent for the government after the U.S. postponed a decision on a different pipeline, KeystoneXL, proposed to deliver Alberta’s tar sands oil to refineries on the U.S. Gulf Coast. On Wednesday, President Barack Obama denied a permit for that pipeline, according to Bloomberg News, but said the company could refile if it came up with a more environmentally sensitive plan.

Environmentalists on both sides of the border want to stop Alberta’s booming oil-sands development. They denounce it as “dirty oil,” noting it comes from massive open-pit mining that fells huge swaths of forests, produces millions of gallons of toxic sludge, and increases Canada’s greenhouse gas emissions.

With the Gateway project, they also point to the dangers of oil spills, either though pipeline ruptures or supertanker accidents. To reach the proposed port at Kitimat village, supertankers would need to navigate through 186 miles of island-dotted channels and fjords, and waters known for storms, fogs, and strong tidal currents. The proposal would lift the moratorium on oil tanker traffic on the coast of British Columbia, and 200 supertankers a day would make the challenging journey to Kitimat. The pipeline would transport 525,000 barrels of thick oil daily.

Last week, Harper’s Natural Resources Minister, Joe Oliver, slammed “environmental and other radical groups that would seek to block this opportunity to diversify our trade.”

“These groups threaten to hijack our regulatory system to achieve their radical ideological agenda,” Oliver wrote in an open letter. “They use funding from foreign special-interest groups to undermine Canada’s national economic interest.”

“We think decisions about these Canadian projects should be made by Canadians,” Oliver added in an interview with the Globe and Mail. He also took a swipe at “billionaire socialists … people like George Soros.”

Harper’s spokespeople specifically pointed fingers at the Washington-based National Resources Defense Council, whose advisory committee includes actors Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert Redford.

The government has been silent, however, about strong opposition to the pipeline from many of B.C.’s aboriginal leaders, who fear oil spills will ruin the livelihoods of their communities. The pipeline is projected on land claimed by B.C.’s First Nations.

The federal government’s outburst against “foreign intervention” was widely denounced. Even the staid Globe and Mail, which supported the Gateway pipeline in an editorial, criticized the Harper government for spewing what “almost sounds like anti-Americanism.”

Many accused Harper’s government of hypocrisy. They noted that Harper, his ministers, and Canada’s ambassador to the U.S. intervened in the U.S. debate about KeystoneXL, doing all they could to get the pipeline to the Gulf Coast approved. Likewise, Canadian companies spent millions of dollars trying to influence U.S. public opinion on Keystone, including the hiring of high-priced American lobbyists.

To then accuse others of foreign intervention in the Gateway debate struck one leading Canadian columnist as “a bit rich.”

Besides, when it comes to foreign interests, none are more powerful than the oil companies lined up to back the Gateway project at the regulatory hearings — China’s SinoCanada Petroleum Corp, Britain’s BP, America’s Exxon Mobil, France’s Total E&P, and Japan Canada Oil Sands Ltd.

Large sums of foreign money are also funding the pro-pipeline lobby. Enbridge Inc., the Calgary-based company proposing the Gateway pipeline, has a $100 million fund from multinational corporations to promote the project, including $10 million from Sinopec, the state-owned Chinese oil company.

“Multinational oil companies are hijacking Canadian’s ability to decide their energy future,” NRDC director Susan Casey-Lefkowitz wrote in a recent blog post defending her U.S.-based group’s efforts against Gateway.

Relations between environmentalists and the Harper government have always been strained. War was essentially declared when the government announced last December it would pull out of the Kyoto Protocol, the international treaty to reduce CO2 emissions. Alberta’s controversial oil-sands development has become the main battlefield.

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Big Oil and Canada thwarted U.S. carbon standards

Emails show how a Washington lobbyist enlisted Canadian officials to beat back U.S. carbon standards SLIDE SHOW

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Big Oil and Canada thwarted U.S. carbon standards Canadian diplomat Gary Mar and oil industry lobbyist Michael Whatley (Credit: Reuters/Ken Durden/republicanconference)

READ THE EMAILS: Selected messages from an oil industry lobbyist to a Canadian diplomat

When President Barack Obama decided in early November to delay a decision on TransCanada’s Keystone XL pipeline until after the next election, America’s environmental movement celebrated one of its biggest victories in recent memory. And no doubt the news came as a blow to Alberta’s tar sands industry, and to Canada’s oft-stated dream of becoming the next global energy superpower.

But behind activists’ jubilation lurked a somber reality, an untold story with much wider implications. The broader fight to reform Alberta’s tar sands, the one which actually stood a chance of breaking America’s addiction to the continent’s most polluting road fuel, has been quietly abandoned over the past several years. For that we can thank the planet’s richest oil companies and their Canadian government allies, who’ve together waged a stealthy war against President Obama’s climate change ambitions.

Their battle-plan is revealed in more 300 pages of personal emails obtained through a Freedom of Information request to the Alberta government. The story in the emails, reported for the first time here in Salon and The Tyee, Canada’s leading independent online news site, traces a year in the relationship of Michael Whatley, a GOP-connected oil industry lobbyist and his friend, Gary Mar, a smooth-talking and ambitious diplomat at the Canadian embassy in the Washington, DC.

The messages lay bare a sophisticated and stealthy public relations offensive, one designed to manipulate the U.S. political system; to deluge the media with messages favorable to the tar-sands industry; to sway key legislators at state and federal levels; and most importantly, to defeat any attempt to make the gasoline and diesel pumped everyday into U.S. vehicles less damaging to the climate. The goal of it all? “Defeat” Obama’s effort to reduce carbon consumption and keep America hooked on Canada’s $441 billion tar sands industry, no matter what the cost to our planet’s future.

That campaign has largely succeeded too, with only a small group of players any the wiser.

On Pennsylvania Avenue

Perhaps the best place to start is on December 30, 2009. It was a bad day for Michael Whatley, founding partner at a K-Street consulting firm in Washington called HBW Resources that has close ties to Alberta’s tar sands industry. The reason: 11 Northeast and Mid-Atlantic governors had agreed in writing to consider adopting one of the planet’s most forward-looking climate change policies, something called a low-carbon fuel standard. Whatley thought his friend Mar would be interested. “Please let me know your thoughts,” Whatley emailed him.

The world’s very first low carbon fuel standard was adopted by California in 2007. It’s a complex climate change policy based on fairly simple logic. If global warming is to ever get solved, it will mean radical changes to the transportation sector, right now the second-biggest source of carbon emissions, after electricity generation, in the U.S. economy. Many of that sector’s emissions are pumped directly out of vehicle exhaust pipes. But the actual industrial process of extracting energy from the ground, and then refining it into road fuel, also releases vast amounts of carbon.

The goal of California’s low carbon fuel standard, and others like it, is to reduce these so-called “upstream” emissions, thereby making every gallon of gasoline, diesel or biofuel pumped into an automobile 10 percent less damaging to the climate.

The Northeast and Mid-Atlantic governors had signaled their support for such a policy in the final days of 2009. Rising levels of greenhouse gases, they declared in their individually signed Memorandum of Understanding, “pose serious risks” to human health, the environment and the global economy. They went on: “Developing alternatives to our continued reliance on petroleum-based fuels will foster economic growth and enable increases in fuel security and reliability.”

Whatley interpreted this document as a dangerous attack on the oil and gas companies he helped represent. The very next day he fired off an urgent email to Mar, who had an office in the mammoth modernistic Canadian embassy on Pennsylvania Avenue.

The governors’ plan, Whatley wrote, warrants “a very serious response on all levels.”

“As we have discussed, this fight cannot take place within DC — and we need to get a team funded and on the ground in these 11 states as soon as possible,” he wrote.

Less than a month later, the scale of that assault would grow larger still, when Whatley and Mar declared war on every low carbon fuel standard then under consideration in America. They had reason to worry. Certain road fuels would obviously fare much worse than others under a California-style standard, chief among them anything produced from Alberta’s tar sands. The province’s sprawling strip mines and toxic tailings ponds help result in a carbon footprint 23 percent bigger than most conventional oil operations, according to a recent Stanford University study.

The upshot is that any state or region considering a low carbon fuel standard could become a much more difficult place for the tar sands sector to sell its products. If ever adopted by the United States nationally, such a policy might devastate the Alberta-based industry, a 2010 Ceres-RiskMetrics report concluded. “The U.S. transportation market could conceivably disappear” for those firms.

With so much at stake, Whatley and Mar, the lobbyist and the diplomat, developed what amounted to a declaration of climate policy war.

“On behalf of HBW Resources,” Whatley wrote to Mar and another Alberta government official on January 25, 2010, “I would like to submit the attached documents as a proposal to develop and execute [an oil sands] campaign.”

The memorandum of 11 governors to consider a low carbon fuel standard was just one part of the existential threat facing Alberta’s tar sands. Ten Midwestern states were also studying the policy, as were policymakers in Oregon, Washington and Florida. And in the U.S. Congress, it seemed like every few months some representative proposed to do the same. Senator Barack Obama himself, in fact, had introduced a low carbon fuel standard as Illinois Senator in 2007, and then campaigned on the policy during his bid for president.

So Whatley wasn’t taking any chances. With the support of the Alberta government, he said he would “defeat efforts” to develop fuel standards in “Northeast, Mid-Atlantic and Midwestern states” and fight anything similar at the national level. He pledged as well to “address potential efforts” to develop clean fuel legislation in “Washington, Oregon, Michigan, Minnesota and other states.”  Whatley also mused about “conducting a grassroots operation” in “target states” that would “generate significant opposition to discriminatory low carbon fuels standards.”

(Mar himself does not appear to have responded in writing to the proposal. But sometime in the 2010/11 accounting year, Alberta’s environment ministry quietly paid Whatley’s consulting firm, HBW Resources, close to $36,000 for “supplies and services.”).

Perhaps the reason Whatley was so confident in his ability to influence America’s political process, is that he was once deep inside it. Years earlier, Whatley served as attorney and senior policy advisor on George W. Bush’s first presidential campaign and transition team. And Whatley was later appointed chief of staff  to Senator Elizabeth Dole, a former cabinet secretary and the wife of GOP elder statesman Bob Dole.

Then in the late 2000’s, Whatley’s firm created the Consumer Energy Alliance, a “grassroots” organization supported by such prominent tar sands producers as BP, Chevron, ExxonMobil, Marathon, Shell and Norway’s Statoil. The group claims to be providing “a voice for consumers interested in vital public issues.”

Environmental groups, however, dismiss the claim, saying the grassroots look more like astroturf, and the consumer rhetoric is a guise. “They’re a front group that represents the interests of the oil industry,” said analyst Luke Tonachel of Natural Resources Defense Council in an interview.

The Consumer Energy Alliance has been one of the most outspoken critics of low carbon fuel standard legislation. In August 2009, it began running a series of slick radio and TV ads in Tennessee, Montana and the Dakotas, warning that such policies “threaten thousands of American jobs” and “would be disastrous for American consumers.” Each ad instructed viewers to complain to their state’s representatives in Congress, providing phone numbers to make it easier.

One of those numbers belonged to Tennessee senator Lamar Alexander, the plaid-shirted Republican who had once observed that a national low carbon fuel standard “makes a lot of sense.” Whatley orchestrated a classic pincer movement strategy. As the ads ran in Alexander’s home state, Whatley pressured the senator in Washington, D.C.

“I am working a deal to keep Lamar Alexander from offering an LCFS amendment,” Whatley wrote to Mar on September 30, 2009. “If we can keep him off of it — it will die an ugly partisan death on the Senate floor.” Less than two weeks later, Alexander told Knoxville media he was undecided on the policy he once favored.

The irrepressible Gary Mar

Mar, too, could also cite victories in the fight to keep America hooked on Canada’s oil sands. The diplomat first made his name as a minister in Alberta’s provincial legislature. He was known at the time for his oversize personality, sometimes belting out old Elvis songs during cabinet meetings, and once posing for a newspaper photo in front of portraits of Winston Churchill and John F. Kennedy.

As minister of international and intergovernmental affairs in 2006, and with the province’s tar sands industry booming, Mar oversaw the creation of Alberta’s Washington office, a home-base for provincial lobbying efforts located inside the Canadian embassy. Less than two years later, Mar himself was appointed as the province’s U.S. diplomat. Gregarious and talkative, he had no trouble making powerful friends. “It’s amazing he’s not cloned somehow,” the American Petroleum Institute’s Cindy Schild said in an interview last spring. “He’s everywhere. He knows everybody.”

Mar’s lobbying wasn’t just confined to the U.S. capitol. Anytime state policymakers tried to introduce global warming laws potentially bad for Alberta’s oil sands, Mar hit the road, ready to glad-hand and charm. One major victory came in early 2009, when he apparently worked closely with the Maryland legislature to remove a climate bill that would have banned sales of high-carbon road fuel.

“I found myself spending a great deal of time trying to influence state governments,” Mar recalled later on his website. “I have had influence in stopping legislation that would have been unfairly harmful to Alberta’s interests in Minnesota, Michigan, and Maryland.”

Despite their skills and experience, Mar and Whatley knew that defeating climate policy required allies. That’s why one of the first strategy proposals in Whatley’s January 25, 2010, campaign briefing to Mar was to team up with “affiliated energy coalitions and trade associations, thought leaders, elected officials, unions and key allies.” The goal was to enlist these players to “build opposition” towards low carbon fuel standards “in each of our target regions.” The campaign apparently needed “state-based and regional 3rd party advocates for Canadian oil sands” to give it legitimacy.

Who better to play that role than the “energy consumer groups” — the airlines, truckers, railroads, highway users, shippers — most dependent on oil? So item #1 on Whatley’s “Action Plan” was to develop “easy-to-read and user friendly informational briefs” for trade associations, unions and others. With the proper motivation, these groups could “generate op-eds and letters to the editor of regional and local newspapers,” reads the proposal. And they could also “write letters to governors and key elected officials.”

This supposed popular groundswell would then be legitimized further, it explained, by a select group of “thought leaders”, those public intellectuals with the ear of political power. Whatley’s proposal suggested engaging with seven prominent think tanks, two of which, the Cato Institute and the Heritage Foundation,  received millions of dollars in funding from Koch Industries to question the science behind global warming.

To keep everything moving smooth, HBW Resources (aka the Consumer Energy Alliance) would perform its traditional functions: running anti-fuel standard ad campaigns, coordinating with such “key allies” as the American Petroleum Institute, lobbying policymakers and political leaders and generating as much media attention as possible. If everything went to plan, Whatley’s briefing concluded, “HBW Resources will be able to successfully draw critical local, state and regional attention to the adverse impacts of efforts to restrict imports of Canadian oil sands into the United States.” In other words, let the assault begin!

“Thanks for being great to work with” 

One of the campaign’s first victories came in mid-April of that year, when Wisconsin abandoned its low carbon fuel standard. Unable to visit public hearings in the state capital, Madison, because of a snow storm, Mar had gotten two Canadian consuls to read a prepared statement opposing the policy.

That intervention infuriated local scientist Peter Taglia, who said in an interview last year that he “was disappointed with the Canadians…They behave basically the same way the Texas oil companies do.” The Consumer Energy Alliance, meanwhile, was ecstatic about Wisconsin’s decision. “The removal of the economy-killing [fuel standard] is good news for consumers in the Badger State,” read a statement on its website.

Still, Whatley and Mar didn’t really get to test out their tar sands battle plan until two months later, in mid-June, when Alberta’s then-environment minister Rob Renner embarked on a “Clean Energy Mission” to the American Northeast. In between meetings with influential state policymakers, the minister delivered the keynote address at a Consumer Energy Alliance-sponsored fuel standard forum in Boston. His anti-climate policy comments were reported on by E&E News ClimateWire and others, 18 reporters in total.

Whatley’s forum also delivered the tar sands gospel to such attending trade groups as the Massachusetts Motor Transport Association and the Associated Industries of Massachusetts. “We have been assured by several of the participants in the forum that they will be willing to send letters to their governors, the federal Congress and the Obama administration opposing a discriminatory LCFS,” Whatley reported triumphantly to Mar

Ten days after the update, Mar emailed some warm praise to his lobbyist colleague. “Thanks for keeping me several steps ahead of other advisors.” To which Whatley replied: “Thanks for being great to work with.”

But such backslapping shouldn’t be confused with complacency. For on the same day as that email exchange, Whatley was marshalling forces against another climate initiative, one that threatened to bring his and Mar’s entire campaign crashing to the ground. On July 16, 2010, oil industry lobbyists were aghast to learn the details of Congress’ latest low carbon fuel standard proposal. This one was drafted by Senator Debbie Stabenow, Michigan Democrat, who intended to amend it to the comprehensive climate legislation then being debated in the Senate.

“Not sure if you are aware of this potential threat,” reads an email sent from an unnamed ally to Whatley. “[The National Petrochemical and Refiner's Association] is implementing an aggressive media, grassroots and lobbying effort against this potential amendment.”

Within a week the Consumer Energy Alliance had joined that effort, launching a two-week TV and radio ad campaign costing $1 million in Michigan, Ohio, Indiana and Minnesota. Perhaps it needn’t have bothered. Two days later Senate majority leader Harry Reid announced the Democrats were now abandoning their entire climate bill, legislation that had been years in the making. “We know where we are,” Reid told reporters. “We know that we don’t have the votes.”

And with that the best chance to establish low carbon regulations on America’s fuel supply – and by extension, Alberta’s tar sands industry – died a little noticed death. Of course, such legislation was still being considered by dozens of states. But the environmental zeitgeist behind it had clearly started to weaken, a process accelerated by that November’s Republican landslide in the 2010 mid-term elections.

Whatley and Mar took full advantage of this political shift on November 15, 2010, by hosting “an informal breakfast to honour Governors and Governors-Elect”, alongside Canada’s U.S. ambassador, Gary Doer, at the W Hotel, near the White House. And the next month, an email update reported that the Consumer Energy Alliance “met with officials from the Governor’s office, the Cabinet, and legislative staff in New Jersey and Delaware to discuss the implications on LCFS.”

A lot happened over the next year. First, in mid-March, Mar resigned from his U.S. diplomatic posting in order to launch a failed bid for premier back in Alberta. (Now appointed as the province’s representative to Asia, Mar “isn’t answering questions about Washington”, a government spokesperson said).

Then in the fall, a simmering debate over TransCanada’s Keystone XL pipeline exploded onto the national consciousness. As America’s environmental movement declared stopping the project its number one priority, the Consumer Energy Alliance fought back with what it described in the emails as an online “Echo Chamber.”

Any time a “CEA or CEA member” creates a “Press Release, Call to Action, Blog, etc.”, said a flow chart prepared by the group, that item would be “pushed to Media” and then sent “to affiliates for ECHO.”

By the time November hit though, even the best efforts of the Consumer Energy Alliance were not enough to keep President Obama from postponing a decision on Keystone XL until 2013, well after the upcoming election. But while that news made headlines across the planet, the demise of America’s fuel standard push continued to go virtually unreported.

These days California is the only U.S. jurisdiction implementing the policy. There’s little support for the standard in the Midwest, where the economy is weak. And as for those 11 Northeast and Mid-Atlantic states? “The work continues,” University of California-Davis transportation researcher Sonia Yeh said in an interview. “But they’re struggling forward. So far there’s no indication any of the states will go ahead and adopt it.”

The Whatley-Mar plan had achieved its goal: helping to blunt President Obama’s climate change agenda. And few outside of the Canadian embassy were any wiser.

 

READ THE EMAILS: Selected messages from an oil industry lobbyist to a Canadian diplomat

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Geoff Dembicki is lead reporter on energy issues for The Tyee, an award-winning online source of news and views based in Vancouver, British Columbia.

The loud American I swore I’d never be

When I moved from Canada people mocked me for my "aboots." I promised I wouldn't change. I was wrong

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The loud American I swore I'd never be (Credit: dundanim via Shutterstock)

If you met me after I moved to America, you would likely notice a few things. I’m tall. I wear a lot of flannel. I have questionable taste in shoes. And I sound absolutely adorable. I know this because I have been told it over and over since I moved from Canada five years ago. “You sound adorable,” said a neighbor in my East Village walk-up during my first week in New York. “Adorable,” said a classmate at grad school orientation, right before he told me that Canadians all seemed dreadfully boring.

I had no idea I even had an accent, let alone that I sounded adorable, before I moved here. But in learning about the way I spoke, I ended up learning a lot about my adopted country — and about myself.

For most Americans, it’s almost impossible to tell a Canadian accent from a Midwestern one. And to be fair, the differences are pretty subtle. We pronounce some of our vowels like the British (something linguists call “Canadian shift”), and raise our diphthongs before voiceless consonants (called “Canadian raising”). But most people identify us by our different ways of pronouncing “au” sounds — which, to some people, sounds like “oot” and “aboot” — and our tendency to say things like “eh” and “heh” at the end of tentatively declarative sentences.

To make it more confusing, most Canadian celebrities seem to lose their accents as soon as they become even mildly famous. You’d never think that Rachel McAdams or Jim Carrey both hail from Ontario by listening to them. The Canadian of the moment, Ryan Gosling, has famously shifted from a Cornwall, Ontario. accent to a butch Brooklyn truck driver accent over the course of his career. There are even companies that specialize in teaching Canadian actors to start talking like Americans.

The thing is, when it comes to accents, the way we perceive them has little to do with the way people actually talk, and everything to do with our prejudices. Italian accents sound sensual because we think of Italians as sensual. German accents sound brusque because we think Germans are cold and calculating.  And, for the longest time, all Americans sounded to me like aggressive jerks.

When I was younger — and living in Edmonton, a frozen city in Western Canada with the world’s largest cowboy boot — family and friends spoke disdainfully about America, and their lack of politeness and deference. They resented the “brain drain”; that so many Canadian professionals were being lured south of the border by big paychecks and prestigious jobs. And I had been repeatedly told about the many ways that America had mistreated Canada over the course of history, from the war of 1812 to NAFTA.

Based on Idaho news reports that were beamed across the border, America seemed like a more dangerous version of home, with a lot more chain restaurants and less firearm safety. I didn’t understand why Canadians would want to move to America. Canada had universal healthcare, and safe cities and an enormous sculpture of a pyrogy on a fork. All anybody seemed to do in Idaho was get shot in a TGI Fridays.

After college, I worked on Canadian TV shows and in strange service jobs in Toronto. I considered opening up a video store with a friend. And then I came across a graduate program in, of all places, New York City. I had been to New York a couple of times as a teenager, and found it both fascinating and unnecessarily pushy. I had traumatic memories of a woman yelling at me when I accidentally touched her purse in a grocery store. I couldn’t imagine myself fitting in there and yet, the graduate program sounded perfect. So I applied, and to my surprise, I got in. I convinced myself that if I went I wouldn’t be a real traitor — it would only be for two years, then I’d move back to Toronto. And I wasn’t going to let America change who I was.

Then the mockery began. As it turns out, to American ears, British people sound smart; French people sound sophisticated; but Canadians sound like teenagers with a learning disability. When I said “about” in graduate seminars, I would hear my classmates snicker. A prospective employer teased me about my accent in a job interview. A man from New Jersey tried to hit on me in a bar by asking me to “say aboot.” When I demurred, he asked me again, three more times. ”I’d like to see someone try this with a Frenchman,” I thought.

The implication was clear: Canadians are pushovers. I had always been quiet and shy, and was used to feeling uncomfortable in social situations, but this rankled. “Americans are self-important,” I would tell my friends back home, “and they laugh whenever I pronounce ‘sorry’ or Regina.” While other transplants were falling in love with the city, convinced they never would want to leave again, I was scrambling to avoid any commitment whatsoever.  I barely decorated my apartment; I tried not to make too many close friends; I eschewed dating. I refused to use anything but the Celsius scale when talking about the weather.

My accent was one of my key forms of resistance, and I started to exaggerate it. I would cartoonishly draw out my “oot” sounds when I met strangers, and I started punctuating my sentences with “eh,” something I had never done before, but everybody seemed to think I should do, since they had seen Canadians do it in movies. My accent became a parody of what it was supposed to sound like, or what I sounded like back home. I was like a German speaker imitating the cast of “Fargo.” A stranger I met in an airport asked me if I came from Alabama, because I sounded “so Southern and proper.” Someone else thought I was South African.

My two-year anniversary in New York came and went, and somehow, I ended up staying. After finishing school, I found a job, and a work visa, and then another one. It wasn’t a conscious choice, but it made sense, and my feelings about New York began to shift. I began to see those trademark American qualities from a new perspective. It wasn’t that New Yorkers were aggressive or insensitive, they were assertive. They could ask for what they wanted. They weren’t self-entitled so much as self-confident. They got things done.

And I started to want those qualities for myself. Now I would complain if my waiter got my order wrong, instead of eating whatever meal he brought me. I started standing my ground against my landlord. I would fight for a place in a crowded subway instead of getting pushed out. At one point, some Swedish tourists were blocking the doors of the subway at my stop. “Excuse me,” I said, without any success. “Get out of my way!” I said again. When that didn’t work, I yelled, “Get the fuck out of the way!” They scattered.

As I left that subway car, I was in shock: Did I really just swear at a group of middle-aged Swedes? Something had fundamentally changed — I wasn’t a polite Canadian anymore. I was something else: An asshole, maybe, but also mostly an impatient New Yorker. I felt like a new, assertive person. And, as time went by, I stopped noticing the fact that Americans spoke differently than me. The jokes about my accent dwindled. Despite my best intentions, I started to belong.

A few weeks ago, my friend Steve came to visit New York for the first time. We had grown up together in Edmonton, and we hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Midway through our dinner, he said, “Thomas, you sound like an American. I can’t hear your Canadian accent anymore. On top of that, you speak so much more aggressively. It’s like you’re always yelling.”

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” I screamed.

Over the last five years, my accent’s makeover has mirrored my own transformation from shy, deferential Canadian into a moderately assertive American. I suppose it’s a very mild version of what other immigrants go through upon their arrival in the United States — the thousands of non-English speakers who face culture shock and widespread discrimination every year — but it proves that whenever we arrive in a foreign place, we all have to figure out who we are and what we want to be. Our prejudices shatter and shift. It’s not a sign of weakness — it’s a sign of growth.

When I visit home, I may no longer sound like the person I expected I would be. I sound like the person I am. And that’s just fine with me.

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Thomas Rogers

Thomas Rogers is Salon's Arts Editor.

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