Analyzing Formosa Plastics
tschuetzThe Formosa Plastics Global Archive supports collaborative analysis, organized around shared research questions, for example:
The Formosa Plastics Global Archive supports collaborative analysis, organized around shared research questions, for example:
The U.S. subsidiary of Formosa Plastics Corp (1301.TW) has agreed to pay $7.5 million and to cooperate with plaintiffs to settle an antitrust lawsuit alleging the company and others curbed the supply of a widely used chemical in a scheme to inflate prices. (Scarcella, August 16, 2023)
“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)”
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).
The authors "define disaster media as a heuristic, or approach, that recognizes the ways “natural” and human-made disasters are communicated about, constructed, and variously exacerbated or relieved through media means. This heuristic is not simply a temporary model for problem solving but tries to account for ecological forces and material conditions" (my emphasis).
They close the article with three provocations:
1) All Media on Deck: the current moment of combo disaster (COVID and climate crisis) requires the production of more public and open access materials (of various kinds), but also boosting of media literacy. The auhtors acknowledge the conundrum of producing more media, while being confronted with sustainability issues and the call for "no-carbon" media.
2) Relief and media Production: a critical look at the kinds of assumptions that governments/NGOs/industry bring to COVID-19 relief efforts (videos, websites, maps, algorithms...) -- what counts as relief and for whom?
3) Focus on Social and Environmental Justice: "In moving forward, it will be crucial to approach disaster media as a domain in which structural reform agendas that interweave social and environmental justice can flourish."
In the article, the authors address visualizations of COVID cases, including related satellite mages of air pollution in Southern California and China (generated by NASA/ESA) as well as of mass graves in Iran.
First, they provide basic framing of how to critically read air pollution satellite imagery. Connections between COVID-19 measures and improvements in air pollution are not identifiable in a straightforward way.
"Figure 1a, for instance, uses bright magenta to indicate greater concentrations of nitrogen dioxide and light blue to signify cleaner air. However, such color choices can be misleading: there is no material correlation between nitrogen dioxide and the color magenta; and reduced traces of this chemical do not turn the sky a paler shade of blue. [...] color-coding selections imply, satellite images are not just scientific; they are cultural as well."
Second, they point out the paradox role of satellite imagery to account for the inequitable impact of COVID-19
"satellite image, from a US satellite operator, locates pandemic “excesses” in an Iranian “elsewhere.” But this is an increasingly deceptive proposition, given that the United States has one of the highest COVID-19 per capita transmission and fatality rates in the world."
Third, they draw comparisons between the "hockey stick" visualization of global Climate Change and the various "curves" used to display COVID-19 developments:
From a disaster media perspective, the film’s global warming graph depicts a dramatic climate shift, projects imminent catastrophe, and issues a world warning. Its circulation in global media culture for the past fifteen years potentially informs the ways people are engaging now with similar-looking charts of coronavirus death and illness. Historically, news media have relied on sensationalistic photos of human suffering to convey a sense of disaster, but in the age of big data and the current pandemic, numbers speak, and graphs and curves tend to dominate the mediascape. In both cases, scientific experts and publics must grapple with how these graphs make meaning, what datasets they rely upon, and how these media come to stand in for highly complex conditions.
Finally, they remark that COVID-19 visualizations are always incomplete - because of lack of testing and withholding of data - but also because stories of e.g. workers are missing. They reference the cover of the New York Times (May 24, 2020) that displayed the names of 100,000 people who had died from COVID.
The article points out the simulation Crimson Contagion that was run by the Department of Health in 2019.
"Despite all of the pressing unknowns of the disease, one cannot call its emergence unpredictable. A simulation by the US Department of Health and Human Services, code-named Crimson Contagion, ran from January through August 2019. The aim was to prepare for the effects of an influenza pandemic. The findings reportedly “drove home just how underfunded, underprepared and uncoordinated the federal government would be for a life or-death battle with a virus for which no treatment existed” (Sanger et al. 2020)"
They also note the rise in Internet usage, pointing to environmental and energy implications:
"[C]oronavirus capitalism is interwoven with digital capitalism (Schiller 1999; Terranova 2004; Fuchs 2019). The pandemic has prompted a massive rush to online spaces of work and leisure activities. It is estimated that the COVID-19 pandemic has increased total internet use by 70 percent (Beech 2020)."
"Yet with this surge in online activities and virtual gatherings, the COVID-19 crisis has both exacerbated and laid bare the internet’s rising energy dependency, its growing carbon footprint, and issues of energy justice. The challenge is to be able to address crises of various kinds while reducing fossil fuel use especially, and developing sustainable and equitably managed energy sources. There is a burgeoning scholarly literature about the ill effects of the nuclear, petroleum, coal, and hydroelectric energy sources that power the grid and about the environmental devastation their industrial incursions wreak. In the meantime, the impacts of extraction and production of the various energy forms that keep the grid and the internet operating are often toxic and inequitable."
Finally, they point to the connection between media and health, including civic archiving of HIV activists.
[F]ilm and media scholarship on public health [...] not only serves as crucial context for the COVID-19 pandemic but also extends the conceptual contours of disaster media to include disease and illness, outbreaks and pandemics, and the ways government agencies address or fail to address health-related crises. Alexandra Juhasz’s book AIDS TV (1995) explores community educational initiatives and activist videos that became vital means of conveying information about and perspectives on HIV transmission during the 1980s and '90s and continuing public health crises. Addressing media portrayals of other outbreaks, Kirsten Ostherr’s Cinematic Prophylaxis (2005) critically examines Hollywood films “that represent the spread of contagious disease across national borders.” In it Ostherr argues, “Audiovisual materials play a crucial role in the articulation of world health, not only as vehicles of educational and ideological dissemination, but also as metaphors for the spread of disease within the processes of globalization” (2). Her study sheds light on the current COVID-19 crisis by demonstrating how outbreaks become disaster media.