Analyze

CIEL's report is the first I have encountered to attempt to give a comprehensive analysis of Formosa Plastics and its impact on communities. The report breaks down the corporation's story into several sections: its origins and convoluted corporate structure, its primary products and common health risks of production, documented legal violations, and environmental justice threats. Together, the 100-page document covers significant ground, yet is readable in under an hour. It includes key statistics that are understandable without extensive background. I believe this report, as a mode of communication, finds an outstanding balance between accessible language, analysis, brevity, and detail. Activists and researchers alike should strive for the same qualities in their knowledge-sharing strategies.

Given the vastness of Formosa Plastics' influence, there are many ways to tell its story to the world. As environmental justice activists and researchers, how do we describe a company and its negative impact when there is so much to say? Limited by time, word count, and the audience's attention span, we must decide what goes unsaid. As a result, we could write countless answers to the same question, "What is Formosa Plastics?"

In this published academic case study, I introduce Formosa Plastics through a local lens--specifically, through the eyes of a grandmother-turned-activist in the small town of Welcome, Louisiana. Her family's history with social justice activism, as well as the area's connection to centuries of slavery, make the environmental racism of Formosa Plastics' Sunshine Project especially salient. Although Formosa Plastics is a global force, telling its story on the microscale is an equally important perspective. After all, in Sharon Lavigne's eyes, her small town is her world. How many of these little worlds have Formosa Plastics destroyed as they wreak havoc across international borders?

I published this news article about a hunger strike against Formosa Plastics that occurred in Texas this fall. Despite the extremity of a 30-day hunger strike, the protesting tactic has not gained attention from national media outlets. At the time I published this article, two small environmental organizations had announced the beginning of the strike, but none continued to cover the event in the unfolding weeks. While activists are driven to take on dangerous protest tactics, little communication of these tactics has carried across mass media.

The article itself introduces Formosa Plastics through its reputation as a "serial offender" of environmental and workplace safety regulations. I list several statistics on legal fines that Formosa Plastics has accumulated overtime, using these quantities to demonstrate the scale of their harm to environmental and human health. An important limitation of this storytelling strategy, however, is that many of Formosa Plastics' actions go undocumented, and even when documented, do not lead to legal consequences. Furthermore, we should still strive to acknowledge the harms committed by Formosa Plastics that are technically within legal limits.

From discussions of how to best document virtual strikers, organizers concluded participants should submit images of themselves holding signs of their commitment to fasting for a day with Diane Wilson. The series of images, showing many people from different countries, could create a sense of solidarity despite physical distance. In addition, images can serve as a tool against FPG demonstrating that many people disapprove of the corporation's actions, despite not being present at the in-person rally. Can images, however, form the same level of solidarity or connection that an in-person interaction otherwise would?

During my thesis project, Tim has served as a collaborator and mentor while he studied data use among activists opposing Formosa Plastics Group (FPG). In addition to connecting me with activists and interview candidates, he also introduced me to a small network of American and Taiwanese students in Taiwan and the United States studying FPG. This community can share resources and knowledge to further our individual studies. Could this academic network serve as a parallel to the transnational activist alliances I am studying? Are the strengths and barriers of research alliances reminiscent of the strengths and barriers of activist alliances?

Linking messages of community pride with political opposition to intrusion by petrochemical companies has interesting implications for collaborations across communities. Does this message enable partnerships in other regions and nations, and what is its relationship to the not-in-my-backyard/NIMBY mentality? How may it be interpreted in differing cultural and language contexts? 

I've found myself returning to thinking about/around/within interstitial spaces of care, particularly within hospital settings, interested in how viral activity unsettles the ideas we have around space and boundaries, both biological and infrastructural. In COVID-19 pathology and response, the inbetween, the interstitial, become sites challenge and possibility. With COVID-19, we see an acknowledgment of once forgotten spaces quite obviously, with hospital atria and hallways being reconfigured into patient care spaces, makeshift morgues established in refrigerated trucks, and hospitals spilling out into neighboring streets and parks. More than ever, we see how hospitals are simultaneously bounded and unbounded--the most stable and unstable sites for care. Along this line of thought, what might thinking through hospitals as heterotopia of crisis and deviation afford?

Foucault outlines six principles for heterotopic spaces

The heterotopia is capable of juxtaposing in a single real place several spaces, several sites that are in themselves incompatible

Heterotopias are most often linked to slices in time—which is to say that they open onto what might be termed, for the sake of symmetry, heterochronies. The heterotopia begins to function at full capacity when men arrive at a sort of absolute break with their traditional time. This situation shows us that the cemetery is indeed a highly heterotopic place since, for the individual, the cemetery begins with this strange heterochrony, the loss of life, and with this quasi-eternity in which her permanent lot is dissolution and disappearance.

Heterotopias always presuppose a system of opening and closing that both isolates them and makes them penetrable. In general, the heterotopic site is not freely accessible like a public place. Either the entry is compulsory, as in the case of entering a barracks or a prison, or else the individual has to submit to rites and purifications.

I'm currently based in Troy, NY where I recently completed a PhD in Science and Technology Studies.  I'll soon be living in NYC to attend medical school. I can be reached at amorgan14[at]gmail[dot]com

I've long been interested in the disaster of routine medical care in the U.S. healthcare system. As far as COVID-19 is concerned, I'm particularly interested in how the long-term health impacts of intensive care are conceptualized and communicated (including Post Intensive Care Syndrome (PICS)) and the tensions between acute and chronic illness, broadly. 

How is the aftermath of COVID-19 crisis being imagined in different settings? How is this shaping beliefs, practices, and policies?