Analyze

As a hobby, tabletop role-playing games have a dubious history of appropriation of non-western fantasy tropes as supplemental, and othered. Advanced Dungeons and Dragons' Oriental Adventures (1985), and Al- Qadim (1992) tokenized East Asian, and Middle-Eastern mythology, respectively. Since the onset of Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition (2014), it's publisher, Wizards of the Coast, makes claims to progress in its depictions of BIPOC communities, by bringing in folks to talk about their own cultures, such as with Journeys through the Radiant Citadel (2022). More fundamentally however, the release of 5th edition and the hobbies resurgence coincided with the proliferation of crowdfunding platform Kickstarter, allowing new voices to populate the hobby space. Adventure games like the all indigenous Coyote and Crow allow for a non-colonial view of North America that presents indigeneity beyond traditionalist tropes, offering advanced technologies like Yutsu Lifts, Second Eyes, and Nisi. The horror game Old Gods of Appalachia offers a marginalized region the chance to celebrate their heritage, and reshape the narrative around Appalachia. The focus on local, and indigenous authorship may offer benefits beyond a sense of authentic representation. When utilized therapeutically, these games may work to address intergenerational trauma, and offer therapeutic insights specifically built to unmoor the legacies ascribed onto these groups by dominant and colonial powers. 

Thomas, Brian J. 2023. "Local Games for Local Trauma." In 4S Paraconference X EiJ: Building a Global Record, curated by Misria Shaik Ali, Kim Fortun, Phillip Baum and Prerna Srigyan. Annual Meeting of the Society of Social Studies of Science. Honolulu, Hawai'i, Nov 8-11.

In this poster, we share preliminary reflections on the ways in which hermeneutic injustice emerges and operates within educational settings and interactions. Hermeneutic injustice is a type of epistemic injustice that occurs when someone’s experiences are not well understood by themselves or by others, either due to unavailability of known concepts or due to systemic barriers that produce non-knowing (Fricker 2007). In 2021, we entered into a collaborative project to design a high school curriculum on environmental injustice and climate change for California’s K-12 students. Although the project convenors aspired to support the diversity of California’s K-12 student population through representational inclusivity across the program participant, they reproduced essentialized notions of what it means to be an “included subject”. In our first inperson meetings, activities intended to invite difference in the curriculum writing and design community were encountered by participants as an opportunity to point to the margins of that community. Who was in the room and who was not? Initial counts excluded some writers whose identity was not readily apparent by race, ethnicity, or age. Some individuals who, to their consternation, were assumed to be white, revealed themselves as people of color. The project chose the “storyline model” of curriculum design to bring coherence across the teams. The model was developed by science educators to promote student agency and active learning. Lessons start with an anchoring phenomenon, which should hook students and produce enough questions to sustain inquiry cycles that culminate in consensus making. As a result, each grade-level unit of our curriculum was intended to focus on a single environmental phenomenon, like wildfire. However, informed by Gregory Bateson’s theory of learning, we sought to foreground complexity by recursively analyzing environmental injustice through case study analysis of many hazards, injustices, and places. It took multiple meetings over several months to arrive at an articulation of environmental injustice as our central phenomenon that recognizes the compounding impacts of both climate change and toxic pollution. It also required restructuring the working relationships between the project's administrative arm, the curriculum consultants, and the writing team. The image we include is a photograph of an exercise done together with another HS team as we were tasked to clarify the aims and goals of our imagined lessons. As is evidenced in the photograph, each writing team found it difficult to articulate learning outcomes as a series of checklists, or goals, separate from skill-development that represented the dynamic need for curriculum capable of examining climate change and the environmental justice needs for California’s students.

Tebbe, Margaret, Tanio, Nadine, and Srigyan, Prerna. 2023.  "Reflections on Hermeneutical Injustice in K-12 Curriculum Development." In 4S Paraconference X EiJ: Building a Global Record, curated by Misria Shaik Ali, Kim Fortun, Phillip Baum and Prerna Srigyan. Annual Meeting of the Society of Social Studies of Science. Honolulu, Hawaii, Nov 8-11.

Youth's brilliance and their fascination with the wickedness of plastic pollution are forming shoals of abundant possibility and collective futurity amid the rising tides of environmental destruction hitting Bahía de los Ángeles, México. Working in an entangled community with professional scientists, government conservationists, traditional outdoor educators, store owners, school principals, chefs, artists, and family this group of youth (ages 7-17) labor and dream as scientists and cartographers of the future. They voice unpopular questions and concerns, embody lives they mourn leaving behind but understand can't persist, demand more from adults and tourists, labor for imperfect data that they hope will hold community accountability, and (re)map community infrastructure, tracts of refuse, flows of water, chains of fossil fuel transport, food systems, and fishing practices. Despite these undeniable contributions, often adult partners in this work are still slow to take youth thinking and resistance seriously---it is easier to mediate on shortcomings or flaws in youths' epistemologies. Ignoring these sophisticated shoals is a flagrant dismissal of the pluralist thought and perspective required to attend, nonetheless halt, environmental injustices. As adults labor on/for youths' futures there should be a constant disruption of who holds expertise and why and rigorous attention given to youth voice.

Fowler, Kelsie. 2023. "Youth and Community Knowledges Create Thick Shoals of Abundance Amid the Plastiocene." In 4S Paraconference X EiJ: Building a Global Record, curated by Misria Shaik Ali, Kim Fortun, Phillip Baum and Prerna Srigyan. Annual Meeting of the Society of Social Studies of Science. Honolulu, Hawai'i, Nov 8-11.

In my experience working with archaeologists, I have observed numerous instances where these experts show exceptional dedication to address epistemic injustices that have persisted within the field since its inception. Archaeology has its origins in colonialism and has developed based on what archaeologists considered "impartial" investigations of marginalized communities. In practice, this meant that archaeologists, who were often seen as authorities on the past, crafted narratives based on their own interpretations, emphasizing objects they deemed relevant to their chosen stories. This way of doing archaeology created epistemic injustices that have perpetuated misconceptions and inaccurate narratives about the lives of communities, both in contemporary times and throughout history. Recognizing this problematic historical legacy, archaeologists have recently made significant efforts to integrate the voices and practices of marginalized communities into their work, often through participatory approaches in scientific research. While these endeavors have yielded positive outcomes, challenges persist because the way communities perceive and understand the world (ontologies and epistemologies) is significantly distinct from the way archaeologists, using their scientific methods and theories, perceive and understand the world. Even with the most robust collaborative efforts in place, this distinction persists and may result in the continuation of various epistemic injustices. One notable example is the practice of elevating scientific evidence, affording it greater importance, credibility, and authority, sometimes at the expense of lived experiences and oral histories. Procedural injustices also persist, partly due to the legal framework governing archaeological practices, which primarily aligns with scientific perspectives rather than community perspectives, benefiting the scientific community. For instance, current regulations in certain states in the US permit landowners to have unrestricted control over the archaeological materials excavated on their properties, irrespective of their historical or cultural connection to the original communities to whom these materials belong. Archaeologists have displayed determined efforts to address historical injustices, but there is still a substantial amount of work ahead. As they navigate challenges, some ask themselves a crucial question: Can the practice of archaeology as we know it withstand the profound transformation necessary to emerge as a truly equitable and inclusive discipline? 

Image Description: "My hand and some of the materials I encountered in the field."

Domingues, Amanda. 2023. "Archaelogy and "impartial" investigations of marginalized communities." In 4S Paraconference X EiJ: Building a Global Record, curated by Misria Shaik Ali, Kim Fortun, Phillip Baum and Prerna Srigyan. Annual Meeting of the Society of Social Studies of Science. Honolulu, Hawai'i, Nov 8-11.

Formosa's current economic and cultural significance is closely tied to Taiwan's history of industrialization. Wang Yung-ching and his brother Wang Yung-Tsai founded the Formosa Plastics Corporation and Group in Kaohsiung in 1954. Wang Yung-ching grew up under Japanese occupation, earning a living by selling and delivering rice as a young boy, and later operating his own rice shop as a teenager. He later transitioned to the lumber business and benefited from market liberalization following the end of Japanese colonial rule (Lin 2016). Despite losing one of his mills during World War II, Wang received $800,000 from USAID, which he used as capital to establish Formosa Plastics (Shah 2012). Wang went on to become one of Taiwan's wealthiest individuals and was widely known as the "god of management" until his death in 2008 (Huang 2008).

“When the government of Taiwan planned for the future of Taiwan several decades ago, it focused exclusively on industrially stimulating the economy. It has been promoting that kind of economic growth and development since the 1970s, making it appear as if industrial growth is the only factor to consider with regard to the country’s future. In the name of progress and economic revitalization, state-led industrialization walks hand in hand with private corporations. Together, they compete for the world’s largest petrochemical plants. The industrial development policy of Taiwan is one of the factors in the loss of Taiwan’s coastal wetlands, the subsiding of land from industrial water withdrawal and sand mining, and the increase of toxic air emissions, contaminated water, and toxic buildup of metals in soils (Wu and Wu 171–2). This “macroeconomy” policy ruins bioregions.” (Chang, 2023, p. 171)” 

“It is important to understand the history of economic and industrial development in Taiwan and the role that the petrochemical industry has played in this history. According to Mingyi Wu, American investment as well as public and private capital in Taiwan gave birth to two giant monsters, Taiwan CPC and Formosa Plastics, which subsequently devoured the island’s future (“Preface” 3).” (Chang, 2023, p. 168)

In the 1980s, Formosa Plastics Corporation purchased financially struggling petrochemical plants in Delaware, Texas, and Louisiana. The company subsequently shifted its operations to Texas and Louisiana, where a competitive bidding process ensued between the two states, both of which were known for industry-friendly policies (Tubilewicz 2021). As political scientist Tubilewicz (2021, 16) has argued, the politics surrounding Formosa's investments in these states were not purely motivated by profit but were also shaped by the ongoing struggles of sub-state actors such as politicians and NGOs over issues of internationalization and representation in global affairs.

An example of this can be seen in Formosa's attempt to build a rayon fiber plant in Louisiana's St. John Parish in the late 1990s, an area also known as "Cancer Alley." Protests broke out due to concerns about massive tax exemptions, displacement of Black residents, and the plant's location on the historic Whitney Plantation (Tubilewicz 2021, 11). However, the project was eventually abandoned due to declining market demand and delays. In addition, the local St. John Governor was indicted for illegal industrial rezoning of land around the plantation and receiving $200,000 in real estate commission (Tubilewicz 2021, 11).

Taihsi Village is located in Changhua County, northwest of Formosa’s Sixth Naphtha Cracker complex, and colloquially referred to as the “cancer village”. Taihsi was founded by Han settlers in the 18th century who built close relationships to the river and sea through rice cultivation and fishing (Lai 2021, 673). Taihsi village expanded agricultural production under Japanese rule, yet state-led capitalist industrialization in the 1950s stunted development, pushing villagers to seek work along the Western coast and on sugarcane plantations in Okinawa (ibid.). Industrialization in the 1970s further marginalized Changhua, resulting in relentless out-migration of younger generations and state subsidies for watermelon harvest, duck farming, and clam fishing. In addition to agricultural challenges (water scarcity, flooding, soil salinization), Taiwan’s embrace of heavy industries in the 90s, including construction of the nearby Formosa complex, introduced unforeseen environmental problems (Lai 2021, 674).

Formosa's operations have been significantly influenced by Taiwanese politics and cross-strait relations with China. Its founder, Wang, was considered a moderate liberalizer with close ties to Taiwan's democratic party. However, he also sought to expand into the Chinese mainland during his lifetime, which often caused conflicts between Taiwanese and Chinese administrations (Lin 2016, 81).

Wang's plans to build a large petrochemical complex in Taiwan were initially halted in 1973 by the authoritarian Kuomintang (KMT) government. However, following the lifting of martial law in the mid-1980s, Formosa attempted to build the complex in the scenic Yilan County (Ho 2014). Unfortunately, rising concerns over petrochemical development and pollution led to mass protests by local residents and fisher people, which became a turning point for Taiwan's democracy movement (Ho 2014).

In the face of this opposition, Wang arranged secret trips to mainland China and announced that the plant would be built on the island of Haitsang in Xiamen province. However, due to economic sanctions between China and Taiwan and pressure from the nationalist KMT government, the construction of the vast petrochemical complex ultimately took place in the rural and impoverished Yunlin County in Central Taiwan (Lin 2016, 82).

Overall, Formosa's history reflects the complex interactions between Taiwanese politics, cross-strait relations with China, environmental concerns, and grassroots activism. These dynamics have played a significant role in shaping the company's operations and impact on the communities in which it operates.

As of today, Formosa Plastics' Sixth Naphtha Cracker Complex (SNCC) has become the main source of revenue in Yunlin County, generating about 90% of the local economy. Although the county has long been known as the agricultural hub of Taiwan, renowned for its fertile farmland and abundant fishing resources, it has also been plagued by ongoing conflicts with polluting industries. In 2010, a series of accidents and explosions at the Formosa complex resulted in significant investments in local schools, waste removal, and public infrastructure.