Fort McMurray Is Sponsored by Oil

Beautiful Shell Place. Coming soon!!

As far as most outsiders are concerned, the oil sands are ground zero for one of the world’s most destructive industrial projects, and the latest stop for Canada’s perpetual diaspora of unemployed Maritimers. The overwhelmingly male town boasts a public image of big paycheques, polluted rivers, cheap sex and all the cocaine you could ask for.

To others, Fort McMurray is a boomtown slowly turning into a hometown. There is nothing the protective residents of Fort McMurray desire more—even more than the proposed Northern Gateway and Keystone XL pipelines—than to be seen as a relentlessly family-friendly, G-rated multicultural utopia.

During Fort McMurray’s Canada Day celebrations—an event sponsored by Nexen, which as of February, is owned by the state-owned China National Offshore Oil Corporation—Mayor Melissa Blake announced she was giving the city a 10-year, multibillion-dollar makeover.

By 2030, city council believes the population will exceed 231,000 residents. If everything goes according to plan, they will all be enjoying a brand new civic centre, an arena, an art gallery, waterfront hiking trails and a public gathering place called Franklin Square.

But even for a community literally sitting on billions of barrels of oil, turning a mining town of 80,000 residents, plus 40,000 temporary workers living in company dorms, into a functioning city is costly.

Fortunately, doors typically closed to advertisers are being cracked open by the town’s desperation to keep pace with the tens of thousands of newcomers, hoping to find their fortune in Alberta’s rush for black gold.

That’s why Canadian Natural Resources Ltd. helped build a Toronto-style suburb to lure family-oriented employees into becoming permanent residents and long-term employees.

In 2008, Suncor Energy contributed $2.5 million towards a Catholic high school’s theatre. One school district official described the partnership as a “win-win” situation for everyone. The cynical jokingly call the school “Suncor High” and “St. Suncor.”

Recently, Shell started increasing their community presence. The company recently spent $2.5 million on the naming rights for the expansion to the Suncor Community Leisure Centre, the largest community centre in western Canada. They also bought a $750,000 MRI machine for the local hospital.

In early May, British Petroleum—who are responsible for the largest maritime oil spill in the history of the petroleum industry—donated $10,000 to a high school science program.

This baby is pro-Syncrude.

In fact, almost every school in Fort McMurray flashes well-equipped science programs, courtesy of companies like Shell, Suncor, Nexen and Syncrude.

 “We have provided unbelievable opportunities to the community. Anything we can do to bring the love for knowledge, the love for science, the love for engineering, whatever the interest is at an early age,” said Syncrude CEO Scott Sullivan in May 2012, after donating $1 million to the city’s public school board. “It just pays such huge dividends for the community, for the children involved, and also ultimately, for companies like Syncrude.”

Selling naming rights to corporations has always been a funding staple for cash-strapped cities and ambitious civic projects. It’s no surprise that a city in a province historically dyed Tory blue allows the oil industry to publicly plaster logos in exchange for donations.

But while traditional advertising tries to win loyal customers, allowing an industry starved for labour and good press to build a city begins to feel more like a recruiting campaign.

“These folks are going to come back and work for us when they grow up,” said Sullivan.

Business-wise, Fort McMurray is one exciting place to be. What other city offers a disposable household income of $177,000?

But as more oil companies project their brands onto public services, the city begins to feel less like a city and more like a commercial.

Corporations are more than employers and sponsors; they’re friends. To borrow a phrase from Shell’s communications team, they’re simply “being a good neighbour,” an argument affectionately repeated by locals.

Many newer buildings bearing corporate logos have the look and feel of a corporate headquarters, prime examples of the state of modern architecture: soulless masses of brick, glass, steel and unnecessary columns for cheap dramatic effect. Concept art for a redesigned downtown Fort McMurray has the same artificial feel.

The Suncor Centre for the Performing Arts at Holy Trinity High School.

On the home front, fat paycheques have allowed many young couples to start families - the average birth rate exceeds 100 babies per month—and purchase late model vehicles. Many have become homeowners in areas identical to the cookie-cutter suburbs of major cities.

The downtrodden proletariat is now flourishing, living the American dream in the Canadian subarctic.

What about the environmental criticisms? Most residents view them as outright lies or half-truths. Concerns regarding aboriginal treaty rights and high cancer rates on reserves are largely ignored.

As for the high rates of drugs, prostitution and domestic violence? Well, those problems happen in any city. And as one character in a locally produced play titled, “Hometown… the musical” shouts, “If you don’t like it, leave!”

“Fort McMurray is not going to be the beast my dad knew,” says Will Holmes, 31, a pipefitter from a small town near Thunder Bay, Ont. Holmes came to Fort McMurray with his wife in 2007.

“Fort McMurray is still just a working town,” he says. “There’s just something about this pristine image they’re promoting that’s phony.”

Holmes and his wife are expecting their first child in September. The couple plans to scrimp and save as much as they can from their combined income of $191,000 for their newborn son. When he turns four-years-old, the Holmes family will fly back to Ontario in time for kindergarten.

They don’t plan on ever returning.

“We’re very devout Catholics and I don’t want my kids going to a school with a giant Crucifix next to a Suncor logo,” says his wife, Rachel.

Approximately 200 kilometers downstream from Fort McMurray and the oil sands lies Fort Chipewyan, an aboriginal community of 1,200 Dene, Cree and Metis.

The isolated fly-in hamlet is not connected to any major road, and has long blamed a myriad of health problems and high cancer rates on development.

No one in the outspoken community of 1,200 believes the health and environmental problems are natural.

But residents can take advantage of the cardiovascular health and improvement program, paid for by Shell. They can visit the Mikisew Cree elder centre, also sponsored by Shell.

Youths can register for trade programs at a satellite campus for Keyano (Cree for “sharing”) College. Last year, the school shifted its focus towards the trades when 20 positions in the fine arts department were cut.

The Canadian Association of Petroleum Producers points out that the oil sands are the largest employer of aboriginals. Even Athabasca Chipewyan First Nation chief Allan Adam, whose band is currently arguing that Shell’s proposed expansion of the Jackpine Mine facility will violate traditional land, admits industry has saved his people from living in squalor.

“We have jobs and great pay and facilities that have been provided to us, but at what cost?” says Eriel Deranger, a spokesperson for the ACFN.  “We see it as a desperate attempt for corporations to ensure they have leverage in the community, rather than an attempt at being our friends.”

Deranger views corporate sponsorship as bargaining chips. Whenever a company is criticized about pollution or aboriginal consultation, they can point to the good deeds they’ve done.

“It’s very strategic of them and they’ve done it to us before,” she says.

Back in Fort McMurray, Will examines a pamphlet from the municipality showing concept art for a reimagined downtown. The bar he is sitting in will likely become a parking lot for the arena.

“I bet if something bad happens next, and I mean really bad, they’ll go crazy with the handouts,” he jokes. “A baseball diamond would be nice. Or maybe something really fucked up, like a Syncrude-made church, or city hall even. How crazy would that be?”

Vincent is a reporter in Alberta. You can follow him on Twitter. Previously:

Enbridge and Alberta Are Getting Lambasted