Don't you want your oil to come from a beautiful place like this? Creative Commons photo by Flickr user Medmoiselle T

The “ethical oil” campaign is at it again, trying to convince consumers that by supporting tar sands production, they are saving the world from those scary Saudi women-haters. But this time, they have gone so far in appropriating the language the left, I actually thought the ads were spoofs.

Without batting an eyelash, these ads attempt to appeal to the consumer’s environmental conscience. Showing beautiful Canadian landscapes compared to a barren Saudi desert, this ad asks “which environment do you want your oil to come from?” Ahem, do I actually have to point out that tar sands production produces 4 times the amount of greenhouse gases as Saudi oil extraction and that the beautiful lake shown won’t be so sparkly after its use for storage of toxic tailings?

The Guardian also criticizes the campaign, displaying the ads in this article that show how ethically superior Canada is because we employ aboriginal people in the tar sands … Yay? Maybe in the fine print they mention that these oil sands have poisoned the indigenous community of Fort Chipewyan, living downstream on the Athabasca River. With sky high cancer rates from a bitumen contaminated water source, those “good jobs” must come with a hell of a health insurance plan.

The ads’ tagline is “Ethical oil. A choice we have to make.” Do we? I don’t remember the last time my choices at the pump were bronze, silver, gold, and Canadian. I have an inkling that these brazen co-options of homosexuality, feminism, and environmentalism are a clumsy attempt to garner public support in lieu of growing national and international discontent at the tar sands‘ disastrous environmental track record and unabashed plans for increased production.

The latest uproar is the legal action against these ads by the Saudi government, causing the ad to be taken off the air at CTV. I know Sun TV’s Ezra Levant facilitated the birth of the ethical oil campaign, but to see him donning a feminist facade in this rant is a little much.

The contrast these ads try to make is infantile and overly simplistic, if not entirely false. But obviously, Levant disagrees. He assures viewers that the information is 100% true, as “the ad actually footnotes where the information comes from.”

Damn it Levant, you got me again.

Peter Mansbridge interviewing Stephen Harper on CBC's the National, January 5, 2010. Screenshot from CBC broadcast.

It’s been a week now since the Prime Minister’s December 30 announcement that the house of commons would be prorogued until March 3, 2010. Peter Mansbridge’s toothless interview with the Prime Minister last night (first question: the underwear bomber? Seriously?) was disappointing. Mansbridge didn’t challenge the PM on anything of substance, and used that favourite tactic of TV talking heads everywhere, lots of “some would say…” and “you can’t read a newspaper editorial without hearing…” — the kind of non-interview interview where every question is attributed to someone (anyone!) other than the actual person sitting there asking the questions. It’s a shame, because we really needed a champion here, in the only opportunity to directly ask the PM these tough, crucial questions before a national audience.

The response to prorogue over the last week has run, as Dorothy Parker said, the emotional gamut from A to B: what I’ve seen, from grand media poobahs and my circle of friends alike, is various flavours of indignation, outrage, disappointment, fury, wrath, ennui, disapproval, disgruntlement, vexation, exasperation, umbrage, chagrin, and despondency. At least, that’s among the people who actually care, which is only about half the country, according to one disheartening poll.

Heather Mallick’s New Year’s Day article in the Guardian seems to express the sentiment in its most distilled form:

Instantly, we are a part-time democracy, a shabby diminished place packed with angry voiceless citizens whose votes have been rendered meaningless. […] Rage and shame are flowing on the internet because there is nowhere else for voters to turn. Even The Globe and Mail, Canada’s national and excessively staid newspaper, had a front-page editorial steaming with reproach. The Globe often leaves me frustrated, but I was moved when I read it and … did what exactly? I took a stand. I joined a Facebook group called Canadians Against Proroguing Parliament, an earnestly pathetic act that may be part of the reason our nation is so lessened on the first day of 2010.

The reason that sentiment rings so true for me is that a widespread response to the prorogue seems to have been “We have to do something” with a streak of “but nothing I can do will be enough.” There are thousands of people who joined that Facebook group who also simultaneously doubt the ability of that group to truly accomplish anything.

Jesse Hirsh published a blog post yesterday that also captures this zeitgeist of self-flagellation (though he’s ultimately more hopeful than Mallick’s take):

It’s hard not to snicker at the fact that joining a Facebook group to show opposition to something has become the ultimate cliché. While such a group does raise awareness and cross over into mainstream media with front page headlines, I am not alone in wondering whether it actually accomplishes anything.

Even worse, why is the alternative to this kind of virtual action doing absolutely nothing? It’s as if it has already become such strong orthodoxy that if you don’t join, or even worse complain, you’re regarded as a nay-sayer and are also responsible for providing alternatives.

We want to do something, but there’s no consensus on what to do, so anything we do in the meantime—calling our MPs, joining a Facebook group, emailing the Governor General—gets devalued because it’s not the One Big Thing that’s going to fix everything. I recognize the feeling because I feel it myself, even as I know it to be self-defeating.

They say—they would, wouldn’t they, since admittedly they want you to buy one?—that the Beehaus is perfect for backyard and rooftop hobbyists, who would like to do their bit to stave off the scary Colony Collapse Disorder in their area. Honeybee populations are crashing everywhere, putting plant populations at risk too, since those plants rely on the busy bees to pollinate.

Bees are a bit tricker than chickens, however, with the risk of their whole rampaging-swarm-of-stinging-death problem. But the £495 Beehaus starter kit comes with the hive, an anti-sting bee suit, heavy-duty rubber gloves, and liquid smoke to keep the bees mellowed out while you steal the sweet, sweet product of their toil. For those brave souls who want to take their urban agriculture to the next level, it’s nice that there are easy ways of getting into local environmental stewardship with one layout of cash and lifetime of free honey.