The question stopped being about coal

The movement behind the movement

The Save Our Slopes rally got me thinking.

Not about coal.

Not about water.

Not even about whether Grassy Mountain should proceed.

What got me thinking was the size of the movement behind the movement.

Like many Albertans, I had always heard opposition to coal development described as a grassroots campaign. The phrase conjures a familiar image: neighbours gathering around kitchen tables, local residents sharing concerns over coffee and ordinary citizens organizing to protect something they care about.

After seeing coverage of the recent rally, I decided to spend an evening doing something simple.

I started following the links.

I began with Save Our Slopes.

That led me to Land Lovers Network.

Land Lovers Network identified partnerships with Calgary Climate Hub.

Following those links, I encountered references to organizations including Alberta Beyond Coal, CPAWS Southern Alberta and the Alberta Wilderness Association.

Then there was Corb Lund’s Water Not Coal campaign, another prominent voice opposing coal development in Alberta’s Eastern Slopes.

Every click led to another organization.

Another campaign.

Another advocacy initiative.

Another website.

Another group publicly opposing coal development in Alberta’s Eastern Slopes.

What began as a local rally increasingly appeared to be part of a much larger advocacy landscape.

What struck me most was not simply the number of organizations involved.

It was how frequently the trail led to fundraising campaigns, donation pages, membership drives and organized advocacy efforts.

The Calgary Climate Hub solicits donations through its website and crowdfunding campaigns.

Alberta Beyond Coal accepts donations through the Alberta Environmental Network.

CPAWS operates a national fundraising platform.

The Alberta Wilderness Association maintains its own donation program.

At nearly every stop, there was an established organization asking supporters to contribute financially to advance its mission.

To be clear, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Environmental organizations have every right to organize. They have every right to raise money, recruit supporters, hold rallies and advocate for policies they believe are in the public interest.

The issue is not whether these groups should exist.

The issue is whether Albertans are being given an accurate picture of what they are seeing.

When many people hear the term grassroots, they picture a handful of volunteers gathering in a church basement or around a coffee shop table. They do not picture organizations with established memberships, fundraising programs, communications channels, volunteer recruitment systems and advocacy campaigns.

Yet that is what I found as I followed the links.

None of this is hidden.

In fact, much of it is publicly available through the organizations’ own websites, partnership announcements, campaign materials and fundraising pages.

What surprised me was not the existence of these organizations.

What surprised me was how rarely the broader web of relationships is discussed.

Instead, Albertans are often presented with the image of a spontaneous citizens’ movement.

The reality appears more complex.

Businesses form coalitions.

Labour organizations form coalitions.

Industry associations form coalitions.

Environmental organizations do as well.

There is nothing unusual about that.

But there is a difference between a local citizens’ group and a collection of established advocacy organizations that publicly share similar policy objectives.

Many Albertans have legitimate concerns about water quality, reclamation and environmental protection. Those concerns deserve to be heard and addressed.

But so do the concerns of the communities expected to live with the economic consequences of the decision.

For a community like Crowsnest Pass, the stakes are not theoretical. Coal development is debated in terms of jobs, investment, tax revenue, population retention and whether future generations will have opportunities to stay in the community. When organizations located hundreds of kilometres away help shape that debate, local residents naturally wonder whether their voices still matter.

My family has lived in Crowsnest Pass for generations. Like many local families, our lives have been shaped by resource development. We have watched generations build careers, raise families and contribute to this region through industries that provided stable employment and opportunity.

That distinction matters because communities such as Crowsnest Pass are not debating coal development from the same starting point.

On one side are local residents, miners, tradespeople, business owners and families whose livelihoods are directly connected to resource development. They are the people who will live with the consequences of whatever decision is ultimately made.

On the other side are organizations that, based on their publicly available materials, possess fundraising systems, communications platforms, advocacy experience and supporters located across Alberta and beyond.

Whether you support coal development or oppose it is beside the point.

The question is whether communities like Crowsnest Pass can realistically match the reach and influence of organizations whose supporters and activities extend far beyond municipal boundaries.

For years, Albertans have been told local communities deserve a voice in shaping their own future.

Many residents of resource communities are beginning to wonder whether that voice still carries the same weight.

They watch rallies organized hundreds of kilometres away.

They see campaigns amplified through organizations with provincial and national reach.

They see narratives about their communities shaped by people who may never depend on a mining paycheque, operate a business tied to resource development or experience the economic consequences of the policies they support.

Again, this is not an argument against environmental advocacy.

It is an argument for transparency.

Albertans deserve to know who is organizing campaigns.

They deserve to know which organizations publicly partner with one another.

They deserve to know who is raising money, who is mobilizing supporters and who is helping shape the debate.

Most importantly, communities like Crowsnest Pass deserve an honest conversation about influence.

The Save Our Slopes rally did not change my opinion on coal development.

What it changed was my understanding of the forces shaping the debate.

I started by looking at a rally.

Then I started following the links.

The more links I followed, the broader the advocacy landscape became.

At some point, the question stopped being about coal.

It became about whether communities like mine still have the ability to shape their own future.