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.

The Formosa Plastics Global Archive supports collaborative analysis, organized around shared research questions, for example:

Upon entering the Formosa Plastics Group Museum in Taoyuan, Taiwan, the first thing that visitors see is a large piece of wood, kept under a dome of glass. The label at the bottom reads:

This magnificent piece of New Zealand Kauri burl had been buried in the ground for more than fifty thousand years before being unearthed. The timber is a rare hard resin-filled solid wood. This beautifully-shaped burl weighs 8.5 tons, well over the the 6 ton piece held by the British Museum in London, making it unique in the world. In 2002, Chairman Wang Yung-ching came across the Kauri burl in Kaohsiung and was drawn to its strength so much that he decided to make this Kauri burl the centerpiece of his collection. This remarkable piece of wood on display here at the entrance to the museum symbolizes the vitality of the Formosa Plastics Group capable of immeasurable possibilities. and longevity.

I later learned that a burl is considered a tree's natural response to "some form of stress such as an injury or a viral or fungal infection" (Wikipedia). I also looked up the Mandarin translation for burl, which is 瘤 (liú). This term can mean hump, knurl, lump, nubble, or tumor. The latter invokes environmental and health impacts, such as high cancer rates in petrochemical fenceline communities. However, these issues are not addressed in the museum. Instead, the piece of wood is paired with an all-plastic recreation of a New Zealand rainforest in the museum's B1 gift shop. This recreation includes chirping bird sound effects, leaving visitors with a greenwashed first and last impression.

However, one way to capture the ambivalent meaning of the object at the center of the museum is through Kim Fortun's (2019) reflection on "toxic vitalism," a term that describes "the way systems can take on a life of their own, often beyond what experts planned or expected.

“An expansion plan for the Sixth Naphtha Cracker Plant in Mailiao now has been turned down by locals and environmental activists because of the accident in Kaohsiung. Petrochemical companies are bleeding dry Taiwan’s rivers and ruining much of the island’s remaining wetlands. As Mingyi Wu claims, the petrochemical industry overlooks generation justice, environmental justice, and class justice (qtd. in Lu).” (Chang, 2023, p. 179)

In his 2011 op-ed,  Winston Dang 陳重信, Taiwan's former Environmental Protection Administration minister, calls for the re-evaluation of the Kuokuang Technology Co's eighth naphtha cracker complex and Formosa Steel Mill, both supposed to be built in Yunlin County. The Kuokuang project was eventually proposed for Dacheng, Changhua County, where it would threaten wetlands, but the project was later stopped. The Formosa Steel mill, in turn, was built in Central Vietnam.

During my fieldwork, I learned that one argument made by economists engaged in the anti-Kuokuang campaign was that the petrochemical products would be exported to China, leaving Taiwan only with the pollution, but not the products.

“Chen’s promise to meet low-carbon green energy goals sounds like lies to the people who are familiar with the debate that took place in 1987 between Yung-ching Wang, the founder of Formosa Plastics, and Ding-nan Chen, Chief of Yilan County. It was about whether or not the construction of Formosa Plastics’ Sixth Naphtha Cracker Plant should be in Yilan County. Chen expressed concern from a bioregional perspective. He was reluctant to welcome polluting industries such as naphtha cracker parks. He and others were more interested in establishing so-called chimney-free industries in order to maintain the region’s local and unique bioregional value (Wu and Wu 63). Due to Chen’s environmental imagination, Yilan County continues to have clean water, air, and land today,6 and it contrasts markedly with Yunlin County, where Formosa Plastics’ Sixth Naphtha Cracker Plant is located (Wu and Wu 52).” (Chang, 2023, p. 168)

“As the petrochemical industry expanded, the Taiwanese government’s slogan—“Energy Efficiency and Carbon Reduction”—has become for many Taiwanese people a joke, for they consume more energy than they produce. When Bao-lang Chen argued that the Eighth Naphtha Cracker Project would differ from Formosa Plastics’ Sixth Naphtha Cracker Plant because low-carbon green energy goals would be met, Chia-yang Tsai retorted that this would not reduce the pollution from the plant (“Chia-yang”). Tsai and other individuals involved in the anti-Kuokuang campaign were especially concerned about the impact of the petrochemical industry on the coastal fisheries in Taichung, Changhua, and Yunlin.” (Chang, 2023, p. 168)

The Taiwanese Formosa Plastics Corporation (FPC) is the tenth largest petrochemical company in the world. Focused primarily on the production of polyvinyl chloride (PCV) resins (Wu 2022), the FPC is the main subsidiary of the larger Formosa Plastics Group (FPG), a vertically integrated, global conglomerate that owns businesses in biotechnology, electronics, and logistics, among others (Wikipedia 2020). Formosa’s four main subsidiaries (all petrochemical companies) account for an estimated 10 percent of Taiwan’s gross domestic product (Wu 2022). The most important sites for production are Formosa plants in Yunlin County (Central Taiwan), Point Comfort (Texas), and Baton Rouge (Louisiana). Enabled by the shale gas boom discussed above, plants at all three sites are subject to ongoing expansions, including a proposed $200 million plant in Texas, and the $12 billion industrial complex in Louisiana. Formosa also operates a steel plant in Central Vietnam that is the focal point of much local and transnational activism.

Formosa’s current economic and cultural standing is deeply connected to Taiwan's history of industrialization. The Formosa Plastics Corporation and Group were founded by Wang Yung-ching and his brother Wang Yung-Tsai in Kaohsiung in 1954. Born under Japanese occupation, Wang Yung-ching made a living selling and delivering rice as a young boy, and later operated his own rice shop as a teenager. Eventually, Wang transitioned into the lumber business and benefited from market liberalization following the end of Japanese colonial rule (Lin 2016). However, since US military forces destroyed one of his mills during WWII, Wang received $800,000 from USAID, which he used as capital to found Formosa Plastics (Shah 2012). Until his death in 2008, Wang became one of Taiwan’s richest persons and remains widely known as the “god of management” (Huang 2008).

In Taiwan, conglomerates like the Formosa Plastics Group are called guanxiqiye (“related enterprises''), a colloquial term for tightly-controlled, family-owned businesses. According to anthropologist Ichiro Numazaki (1993), the expression emerged from 1970s business discourse and quickly became a self-identifying status symbol for many corporations (Numazaki 1993, 485). Numazaki argues that Chinese trading tradition (emphasizing partnerships) and Taiwan’s vexed relationship to Japan and China contributed to the rise of family-owned enterprises. Daughter Cher Wang has co-founded important businesses outside of the petrochemical sector, including consumer electronics company HTC. However, the Formosa family has also experienced a series of conflicts: in 1996, Wang Yung-Ching expelled his son Winston for extramarital affairs, who later became involved in ongoing efforts to disclose his father’s substantial tax evasion (Offshore Alert 2018). Today, the Formosa Group is in the process of transitioning key positions away from family members (Taipei Times 2021).

Formosa’s operations have further been shaped by Taiwanese politics and cross-strait relations with China. Considered a moderate liberalizer, Wang held close ties to Taiwan’s democratic party, but also continued to push for expansion in the Chinese mainland during his lifetime, often leading to conflicts between Taiwanese and Chinese administrations (Lin 2016, 81). In 1973, Wang’s plans to build a large petrochemical complex in Taiwan were halted by the authoritarian Kuomintang (KMT) government, but following the lifting of martial law in the mid-1980s, Formosa made a second attempt, suggesting to build the complex in the scenic Yilan County (Ho 2014). Rising concerns over petrochemical development and pollution, however, led to mass protests by local residents and fisher people, creating a landmark moment for Taiwan's larger democracy movement (Ho 2014). In face of this opposition, Wang arranged secret trips to mainland China, and later announced that the plant would be built on the island of Haitsang in Xiamen province. Yet, economic sanctions between China and Taiwan, combined with pressure by the nationalist KMT government, eventually led to construction of the vast petrochemical complex in the rural and impoverished Yunlin County in Central Taiwan (Lin 2016, 82).