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Our Place: Changing the Nature of Alberta
A collection of essays and articles that reflect upon the ecology, conservation history, missed opportunities and emerging possibilities of a place that could have been about so much more than oil.
Naturalist, hunter, conservation activist and recovering bureaucrat Kevin Van Tighem explores the landscapes and wildlife of one of Canada's most diverse and beautiful provinces and the ways in which Albertans have often failed – and sometimes succeeded – at the challenge of sustaining their home place.
Previously published writings are mixed with current reflections on the streams, forests, grasslands and mountains of a Canadian province whose ambivalence about the nature of place, the responsibilities of citizens and the temptations of resource-based prosperity continues to mar the landscape and raise questions about the future. Challenging, eye-opening, instructive and soul-searching, this collection nonetheless delivers an overriding message of hope and possibilities. Alberta is our place now; we can still sustain the best of it, and bring out the best in ourselves, if we choose to know it well and care for it better.
Naturalist, hunter, conservation activist and recovering bureaucrat Kevin Van Tighem explores the landscapes and wildlife of one of Canada's most diverse and beautiful provinces and the ways in which Albertans have often failed – and sometimes succeeded – at the challenge of sustaining their home place.
Previously published writings are mixed with current reflections on the streams, forests, grasslands and mountains of a Canadian province whose ambivalence about the nature of place, the responsibilities of citizens and the temptations of resource-based prosperity continues to mar the landscape and raise questions about the future. Challenging, eye-opening, instructive and soul-searching, this collection nonetheless delivers an overriding message of hope and possibilities. Alberta is our place now; we can still sustain the best of it, and bring out the best in ourselves, if we choose to know it well and care for it better.
- GenresNonfiction
376 pages, Paperback
Published May 16, 2017
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
January 28, 2018
These essays collected over thirty years span remembrances of youth, negotiating a career and raising a family. It is a deeply thoughtful book that waxes with the joy of just being in the natural environment, and wanes with observations of this natural world embedded in a civilization that has lost connection. Kevin Van Tighem presented at a SACPA session in Lethbridge this year where he shared the sense of this book and a message of finding our place in our environment – the book’s title, Our Place, is the theme that holds this ecosystem of thoughts together.
The worldview presented in Our Place parallels Jacob Von Uexküll’s ‘umwelt’: that each species is embedded in world of its own making, while each of these worlds is interdependent within a whole. Van Tighem says: “Anthropocentrism is not the problem. We just need to work on the “anthro” part a bit more. There is nothing wrong with stating that all the world exists for the benefit of humankind – just as it does for tigerkind and troutkind. But humankind, by definition, is the whole world in which it exists. That world – in its wholeness and well-being – makes us human. We have little choice but to sustain the world’s ecosystems, because they make us whole” (45). He offers us this caution: “We are not alone. But we could end up that way” (227).
The caution is appropriate as it is evident that we do not relate to the world of our making in a way that respects our interdependence with the worlds of other species. This is the challenge presented in Our Place, and one of the main objectives for the creation of national parks in Alberta. Van Tighem is critical of the national parks system for failing to achieve this goal: “National parks do not bring people nearer to nature; on the contrary, their experiences there too often reinforce the idea that they are outsiders. By extension, park visitors are encouraged to believe that outside the parks, in those unfortunate places that do not enjoy protection from the inevitably destructive choices of us outsiders, nature must needs be – at least usually – written off” (238). And: “our national parks, wilderness areas and other protected areas have failed us, in a very basic and vital way. They have not drawn us into a more thoughtful relationship with out habitat. They have not taught us that we should use land frugally, and with humility and respect. They have encouraged us to embrace an approach to conservation that consists mostly of trading a few protected areas in exchange for freedom to abuse all other land” (236). An interesting metaphor here is the act of trading or exchange which permeates our relations to the natural world and each other: we exchange some conservation of land for the freedom to exploit the rest (and then exploit the conserved land afterward). We exchange some Treaty rights for the right to sell most of the land to settlers (and then ignore our agreements). The concept of exchange denies commonality and usufruct which is more in harmony with the interdependent system in which we live. One of the reasons for this, according to Van Tighem, is that we are allowing others to tell our stories – these other stories, of dominance and of economy, are not creating a culture of belonging and a culture of sustaining. Van Tighem concludes his SACPA presentation with this appeal: “Protecting nature is not a simple matter of putting a boundary around a piece of land and saying that piece of land is safe, everything else can go. It’s a matter of turning us into people that will sustain nature everywhere it is and in so doing make ourselves and our lives infinitely richer.”
Parks can do this, if they become places of learning and inspiration, if they do not become a substitute for broader conservation – conservation that happens everywhere we are and in everything we do. Van Tighem concludes that: “Coming home may be a simple matter of learning to see more clearly where we are already, determining to treasure it, and choosing to stay” (394). And I might add: “learning to tell our own stories of place” – something Kevin Van Tighem does so very well in Our Place: Changing the Nature of Alberta.
The worldview presented in Our Place parallels Jacob Von Uexküll’s ‘umwelt’: that each species is embedded in world of its own making, while each of these worlds is interdependent within a whole. Van Tighem says: “Anthropocentrism is not the problem. We just need to work on the “anthro” part a bit more. There is nothing wrong with stating that all the world exists for the benefit of humankind – just as it does for tigerkind and troutkind. But humankind, by definition, is the whole world in which it exists. That world – in its wholeness and well-being – makes us human. We have little choice but to sustain the world’s ecosystems, because they make us whole” (45). He offers us this caution: “We are not alone. But we could end up that way” (227).
The caution is appropriate as it is evident that we do not relate to the world of our making in a way that respects our interdependence with the worlds of other species. This is the challenge presented in Our Place, and one of the main objectives for the creation of national parks in Alberta. Van Tighem is critical of the national parks system for failing to achieve this goal: “National parks do not bring people nearer to nature; on the contrary, their experiences there too often reinforce the idea that they are outsiders. By extension, park visitors are encouraged to believe that outside the parks, in those unfortunate places that do not enjoy protection from the inevitably destructive choices of us outsiders, nature must needs be – at least usually – written off” (238). And: “our national parks, wilderness areas and other protected areas have failed us, in a very basic and vital way. They have not drawn us into a more thoughtful relationship with out habitat. They have not taught us that we should use land frugally, and with humility and respect. They have encouraged us to embrace an approach to conservation that consists mostly of trading a few protected areas in exchange for freedom to abuse all other land” (236). An interesting metaphor here is the act of trading or exchange which permeates our relations to the natural world and each other: we exchange some conservation of land for the freedom to exploit the rest (and then exploit the conserved land afterward). We exchange some Treaty rights for the right to sell most of the land to settlers (and then ignore our agreements). The concept of exchange denies commonality and usufruct which is more in harmony with the interdependent system in which we live. One of the reasons for this, according to Van Tighem, is that we are allowing others to tell our stories – these other stories, of dominance and of economy, are not creating a culture of belonging and a culture of sustaining. Van Tighem concludes his SACPA presentation with this appeal: “Protecting nature is not a simple matter of putting a boundary around a piece of land and saying that piece of land is safe, everything else can go. It’s a matter of turning us into people that will sustain nature everywhere it is and in so doing make ourselves and our lives infinitely richer.”
Parks can do this, if they become places of learning and inspiration, if they do not become a substitute for broader conservation – conservation that happens everywhere we are and in everything we do. Van Tighem concludes that: “Coming home may be a simple matter of learning to see more clearly where we are already, determining to treasure it, and choosing to stay” (394). And I might add: “learning to tell our own stories of place” – something Kevin Van Tighem does so very well in Our Place: Changing the Nature of Alberta.
January 10, 2018
Nonfiction book of environmental and conservation essays and articles by a biologist, naturalist, conservation activist, hunter and former superintendent at Banff National Park. The author writes in such a heart felt, reverent and compelling way about the Alberta natural landscape and richness of our natural heritage and wildlife.... that we steamroll over for prosperity, job creation, exploitation of natural resources and human greed and sometimes just out of ignorance and thoughtlessness. He writes of our impact on rivers, fish stocks, forests, prairies, wildlife as we become more disconnected from nature and experience it by driving by. And yet, the author doesn't write in a "holier-than-thou" way but with understanding and conviction that it can and will change for the better. Very compelling read.
April 22, 2026
Some parts of the book were interesting; I liked the Alberta-centred perspective as well as the attention to local landscapes and conservation issues. I didn't like the sections about hunting and parenting (of which there were too many). I also found some of the essays too preachy, including a condescending remark about atheists ('who figure everything is just a very complicated accident'). Although I knew it was a collection of essays (so basically all just personal commentary), I had hoped for more on environmental awareness and ecology.
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January 18, 2024I couldn't bring myself to finish reading this book, it was too preachy. I mistakenly thought it would be more about the natural history of Alberta.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews