http://orcid.org/0000-0002-2109-6342
No other topic has appeared more frequently in Environmental Sociology over the last three years than that of environmental justice. Interestingly, this is not true of the field more broadly – something I will come back to later. My principal concern in this essay is to reflect on the positions of privilege that authors of environmental justice studies generally occupy with respect to the subjects of their research. The fact of researchers occupying different social positions to those they research is not a problem, per se, and nor it is universally true. But it does raise questions about the power relations implicated in research relationships, about the ethical conduct of research, about whose knowledge counts when claims of injustice are made or contested, and about who ‘owns’ the idea of environmental justice.
Each of these questions speak both to how we do environmental justice research and to the responsibilities, more broadly, of social scientists in exposing and challenging injustice. It is easy to be cynical of the motives behind justice research – to suspect researchers of virtue signalling or appropriation. Of extracting data and knowledge from disadvantaged communities without acknowledgement or repatriation. Of doing research on people, not with or for them. Contradictions between the material circumstances of disadvantaged communities and the funding and influence that accrue to particularly prestigious research institutions provide much to be cynical about. It is also easy, consequently, to be fearful, to be so sensitive to the potential for criticism or the potential to do harm to the researchers who fail to build meaningful relationships with those exposed to environmental injustice – avoiding injustice altogether or dealing with it in the most abstract and distant of terms.
The questions I have raised thus far may seem moot given the history of environmental justice as both a social and a scholarly movement – of neighbourhood groups and civil society organizations supported by social and other scientists to do ‘popular epidemiology’ and ‘citizen science’ (Brown Citation1997). However, environmental justice has a number of other histories, including histories of incorporation into state policy and agencies (Harrison Citation2017), of travel beyond its birthplace in the US (Anguelovski and Martínez Alier Citation2014), of privileging environmental over social and cultural justice (Hoover Citation2018), and of shifting scales through its incorporation within global environmental change discourse (Walker Citation2009). While the conclusions we reach across each of these contexts (and others) will necessarily vary, the need for critical reflection on responsibilities, research ethics and epistemology across each remains constant.
Innovation in environmental justice research?
To date, roughly one in four papers published in Environmental Sociology have been concerned principally with questions of environmental justice. Given we have published special issues on exposure to environmental toxins and on intersectional approaches to environmental justice research this is not entirely surprising. But it is important to note that the majority of papers on environmental justice were not solicited for special issues and clearly reflect many years, on the part of their authors, of sustained research and (in cases) activism.
If we consider environmental sociology as a field, however, environmental justice studies are markedly less prevalent. Bohr and Dunlap’s (Citation2018) recent meta-analysis of thematic trends in relevant articles published in all sociology journals included in the Social Sciences Citation Index from 1990 to 2014 suggests that environmental justice scholarship is, in fact, relatively marginal. Bohr and Dunlap’s analysis identifies environmental concern, climate change, theorization of environmental sociology and comparative political economy as the leading topics for environmental sociology followed by agriculture and then environmental inequality. Scott and Johnson (Citation2017) report a strong correlation between increasing attention since the 1990s to inequality and stratification and the publication of environmental sociology in mainstream US sociology journals. To be fair, many studies of environmental inequality do explicitly address injustice but many do not. Equality and justice are not the same thing.Footnote1
I would like to think Environmental Sociology is offering a site for theoretical and empirical innovation that will prove, in time, to have prefigured trends in sociology more broadly. We will see. In the meantime, we can be reasonably certain that the prevalence of environmental justice studies in Environmental Sociology is not related simply to a lack of publication opportunity elsewhere given several other journals (including Local Environment, Environmental Politics and Environmental Justice) publish hundreds of articles each year on environmental justice. Our special issues on environmental justice suggest at least two lines of innovation: the first, bringing more sophisticated engagements with other disciplines including genomics, engineering and data science into sociology (Joyce and Senier Citation2017); the second bringing more deeply sociological understandings of power and inequality to multidisciplinary and other environmental justice studies (Malin and Ryder Citation2018). Both lines of innovation suggest that if there is a uniquely sociological approach to be developed here it must be one that reflects seriously on how sociological contributions to environmental justice scholarship might best respect the aspirations, knowledge and perspectives of those we represent through our scholarship.
Strengthening reflexivity
It seems obvious at this point to advocate reflexivity – of reflecting on how the ways in which we undertake research influence our objects of study, on how the expectations and theoretical frameworks we bring to bear influence the questions we ask, the ways in which we interpret data, and so on. However, if reflexivity is to contribute to genuine theoretical and empirical innovation it must push beyond these issues of data validity in at least two ways (see Wasserfall Citation1993). First, reflexive environmental justice research must consider the implications of social positioning for the epistemology of social research; and second, reflexive environmental justice research must consider where it sits in relation to the often competing interests, values and aspirations implicated in environmental conflict.
As Collins (Citation2000, 43) writes, ‘the interconnectedness of group experiences and collective knowledge’ of (in this case) African American women speaks both to the possibility of new perspectives on women’s experiences and to the ‘basic concepts used to describe that experience’. Social position is fundamental, in other words, to epistemology. The intersecting hierarchies of gender, sexuality, race, class, nation etc. in which people are embedded (researchers included) are necessarily linked to their knowledge of the social realm. Importantly though, knowledge is not determined simply by an individual’s location on a matrix of advantage and disadvantage or their membership of a particular ‘population’. Knowledge of the social is relational. It is developed through experiences and interactions across multiple domains including the process of participation in social research (see also Nayak Citation2006).
It is not uncommon for authors of environmental justice studies to say something about their own social position (generally in relation to race or ethnicity, gender or class) and I have no intention of criticising them for doing so. Awareness of our own social positions is a necessary but it is also an ultimately insufficient condition for reflexive research. The implications of social position for the conduct and communication of research are rarely self-evident.
As researchers, we should never assume we possess special insight into the lives or perspectives of those with whom we share one or more markers of social position, and nor should we assume ourselves incapable of empathy and shared understanding when we encounter difference.Footnote2 Of course, there are situations in which it is entirely appropriate that research is undertaken by scholars with whom participants identify.Footnote3 Yet it behoves all researchers to acknowledge the partial nature of our own perspectives on the social (both theoretical and experiential), to take practical steps to avoid confirmation bias, and to open ourselves to the unexpected. At minimum, reflexivity functions as a filter on our subjectivities, beliefs, backgrounds and feelings that leads to better representations of the social (Wasserfall Citation1993). However, a deeper reading of reflexivity – a reading that takes the situatedness and relationality of social knowledge more seriously – deconstructs our authority as authors of social accounts (Wasserfall Citation1993). Strong reflexivity calls for more collaborative research processes that respect participant knowledge, share interpretive authority, and reflect critically on whose aspirations and values are reflected in and through research.
Challenging racialization
None of this is to suggest that race (or any dimension of social identification) ought to be ignored or de-emphasized. Environmental justice research has demonstrated far too many times that race is strongly correlated with the siting of hazardous facilities, exposure to ambient pollution levels, access to alternative livelihoods, etc. Environmental justice research has demonstrated that ignoring or denying the systematic relationships between racial hierarchies and exposure to harm renders already marginalized people even less visible or presents them as deserving of their fate (Richter Citation2018). Environmental justice research has also demonstrated, however, the importance of unpacking race and the processes through racial categories are produced and reproduced in different social contexts.
It is largely accepted in the social sciences that race is a biologically and geographically problematic construct but that it is a construct, nonetheless, which is all too real in its effects. As a colonial tool, racial categorization erases cultural and linguistic diversity, unpicking the complex tapestries of unique kinship and community relations in which individual biographies are woven, and leaving in their place a limited number of homogenized and mostly derogatory stereotypes (see Sundberg Citation2008). People, communities and places, in other words, are racialized. Each are ascribed racial characteristics and the inequalities and injustices implicit in racial hierarchies are naturalized. And while the processes at work here are relational – acting on the marginalized and privileged alike – it is the privileged who are treated as the norm. To be racialized is to be ‘Other’.
While racialization can work in a number of different ways of relevance to environmental sociology, it is particularly worth highlighting the ways in which racialization can work to produce unjust outcomes in the absence of explicitly racist intent. Teelucksingh (Citation2007), for example, illustrates how what she refers to as ‘environmental racialization’ emerges through the failure of Canadian government and service agencies to respond to changes in migration, settlement patterns and land use. Luna (Citation2017), alternatively, examines how the internalization of racialized identities leads farmers in Burkina Faso to embrace expensive and potentially dangerous pesticide-use practices they associate with whiteness, status and modernity. Both studies illustrate the ubiquity of whiteness and blackness as racial categories – a ubiquity that is hardly surprizing given the role of racial thinking in historical and contemporary processes of colonialism, the global reach of commodity relations, and so on (Sundberg Citation2008). However, both studies also illustrate the danger of taking either the boundaries or the consequences of these categories at face value.
Taking racialization seriously raises at least three practical issues for environmental justice scholarship.
First, despite its homogenizing impulse the boundaries and consequences of racial categorizations are spatially and temporally variable. Failure to interrogate the specific ways in which race is produced in different contexts (that is, treating whiteness, blackness and other signifiers of race as if they are universal and fixed) distracts both from unique local articulations of racialization and from opportunities, consequently, to challenge them (Stevens et al. Citation2017). Here in Australia, for example, blackness is commonly ascribed to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians, Pacific Island peoples and members of the African diaspora. Identification with blackness and experiences of racialization (including environmental racialization) are so varied among these groups that designation of a singular black race or identity is virtually unthinkable.Footnote4 Indigeneity, further, is considered cultural, not racial, and reference to people as ‘blacks’ – or any other noun that either ignores the multiple aspects of individuals’ identities or collapses peoples of different cultural and linguistic backgrounds into a single racial group – is often considered offensive.Footnote5 While diversity leads, not surprisingly, to different views on the most appropriate language with which to describe peoples’ identities and group memberships, the point remains that uncritical imposition of racial categories risks deepening peoples’ experience of racialization.
Second, avoiding the reification of racial categories represents a particular challenge for epidemiological and other quantitative research (Richter Citation2018). While ethnographic methods offer researchers the opportunity ‘to re-write race outside of its attendant categories’ (Nayak Citation2006, 424) – that is, to document participants’ experiences of racialization in their own terms – quantitative research is necessarily less open-ended. This is especially so in jurisdictions where census and other official data categorize people raciallyFootnote6 as there is a clear methodological case to replicate these categories in quantitative environmental justice studies. Such data are of enormous value in monitoring racial inequalities but they are simultaneously productive of race and thus of potential to naturalize the marginalization of racialized Others.
Third, the seemingly obvious response to this challenge is to again advocate reflexivity. To resist the simplification of racial identify to a limited number of predefined categories. To qualify the use of racial categorizations and discuss their limitations in relation to the specific research context. To remember that racial hierarchies interact with others (gender, class, national, etc.) in ways that are multiplicative, not additive (Malin and Ryder Citation2018). And most importantly, to respect peoples’ knowledge and the language they use to articulate their own group affiliations and identities.
De-sanitizing the violence of environmental injustice
Respecting the experience and knowledge of those exposed to environmental injustice presupposes explicit recognition of the violences perpetrated on those communities. While the (necessarily) abstract language of disproportionate exposures, lay epidemiology, undone science, ecologically unequal exchange, etc. provides a powerful range of explanatory concepts and methodological tools for environmental justice research it risks sanitizing, at the same time, the deeply corporeal character of environmental injustice. Measuring and explaining inequity in the distribution of environmental hazards and resources are important (Schlosberg Citation2013). However, it is the injuries inflicted on peoples’ bodies and minds that differentiate environmental injustices from any other inequity. Environmental injustices are injustices not because they reflect inequality alone but because they shorten peoples’ lives, compromise their physical and mental health, and increase their vulnerability to other sources of risk.
As a consequence, I prefer to define environmental injustice not in terms of unequal exposure to sources of potential harm but in terms of the means through which injustice produces its effects. More specifically, I define environmental injustice as violence perpetuated on the bodies, minds and livelihoods of its victims through the chemical and biological pathways of ecosystem processes and human metabolism (Lockie Citation2016). Environmental justice for some might require nothing more than the absence of overt violence or through access, in other words, to environments that support healthy lives, communities and workplaces (Teelucksingh Citation2007). Environmental justice for others, however, might require explicit attempts to redress historical violence, displacement and exploitation through the establishment of truth and reconciliation or other conflict resolution procedures, the negotiation of treaties, restoration of traditional property rights, provision of compensation, creation of new political structures, or some other means.
There are many examples of environmental justice scholarship that are sensitive to violence. Waldron’s (Citation2018) analysis, for example, of how the structural violence implicit in control over space solidifies Canadian race and class hierarchies and the exposure of minorities to hazardous facilities. Fox’s (Citation2015) examination of military force to expropriate land and deny Indigenous Guatemalans access to natural resources. Perry’s (Citation2013) analysis of how conflict over resource development spills over into interpersonal violence in the Marcellus Oil Shale. Davidson’s (Citation2017) exploration of the traumatizing impact of toxic contamination associated with unconventional gas extraction in Alberta. Mah’s (Citation2017) call to exploit the real-time data capabilities of ‘big data’ to track toxic exposures including the small and incremental changes often typical of what Nixon (Citation2011) refers to as ‘slow violence’.
According to Nixon (Citation2011), the violence of environmental injustice is obscured by its temporal and spatial dispersal. With notable exceptions,Footnote7 the calamitous implications of environmental degradation emerge slowly and incrementally. They are catastrophic and yet, in the making, unspectacular. Difficult to perceive and easy to dismiss until (and sometimes even then) impacts become cumulative and exponential at which point, Nixon (Citation2011) argues, the temporal and spatial dispersal of cause and effect undermines accountability and possibilities for justice among those most impacted (see also Rice Citation2016).
Violence and justice are emotive words. Neither are words to be used loosely and it is important scholars are careful not to sensationalize or exaggerate the impacts of environmental degradation through hyperbolic language. It is equally important, however, that scholars speak and write honestly about the violent effects of environmental injustices if we are to counter the dilution of political attention promoted by spatial and temporal dispersion. I am troubled, in this respect, by the common practice of abbreviating environmental justice in sociological texts. Indeed, I am rarely comfortable with the use of abbreviations in relation to violence or justice. Whether these be EJ, CEJ, DV, GBV, SV, DVO, VAW or any other acronym I am not going to spell out in detail, I am not convinced that saving a few syllables here-and-there justifies the loss of affective meaningFootnote8 implicit in use of these signifiers.
Conclusion
Challenging racialization and other processes through which injustice is produced and naturalized. Acknowledging the violence perpetrated on peoples’ bodies and minds through environmental injustice. Respecting the knowledge and aspirations of those subject to injustice. Paying particular attention to scholarship that emerges from within marginalized communities. There are a number of ways in which environmental sociology, as a field of scholarship and research, might contribute to environmental justice. But where do our responsibilities lie?
There are, of course, as many answers to this question as there are environmental sociologists. I do not think it beholden on all environmental sociologists to prioritize environmental justice in their research but yet I find it hard to conceive how, if undertaken reflexively, any programme of research or education in environmental sociology could ignore questions of justice. I use the word ‘programme’ here very deliberately, for while individual researchers, projects, publications, subjects, etc. might focus on topics with only the most tenuous connections to, or implications for, environmental justice, the same should not be true of our profession writ large, our empirical preoccupations and theoretical debates, or the major institutions in which we work. The word ‘institution’ is also used deliberately, since the employment of most sociologists through universities, research agencies, government departments etc. provides us with positions of influence within major agents of social inclusion or exclusion – positions of considerable privilege and responsibility.Footnote9
Disclosure statement
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Notes
1. There are at least two reasons not to conflate equality and justice in this context. First, environmental justice activism and scholarship was founded on the observation of disproportionately high exposure, among minority communities, to environmental hazards such as toxic waste. Justice does not demand equality of exposure to such hazards – which can be achieved by increasing the exposure of majority communities – but the provision of safer environments for all. Second, many studies of stratification are not concerned with exposure to hazards or access to natural resources but the relationships between inequality and other topics of environmental sociological interest such as consumption practices.
2. Feminist standpoint epistemologies stress the influence of social position on the questions researchers ask and the analytical approaches they employ, promoting an increased focus on groups previously marginalized in the social sciences and a rethinking of how other social categories such as class are theorized (Naples and Sachs Citation2000). Black feminist standpoint epistemologies push further both by problematizing race and by focusing attention on how multiple dimensions of social advantage and disadvantage intersect to create very difference experiences of gender, class, race etc. (Collins Citation2000). While few standpoint theorists argue that social position should determine who does research, concern has been expressed over citation practices that downplay the origins of intersectional theory, in particular, in Black feminist scholarship (Ducre Citation2018).
3. I will not offer an exhaustive list of situations in which it is appropriate that research is undertaken by people who share important aspects of identity with those they are researching, but I will offer two examples based on my own experience. The first comes from research with people exposed to violence and for whom participation in studies carries risks of re-traumatization. While analyses of psychological trauma research suggest these risks are low provided participants accept the importance of the research and are able to exercise autonomy throughout their involvement (e.g. by controlling what information they do or don’t provide) (Newman and Kaloupek Citation2009), management of re-traumatization risk still calls for considerable sensitivity to the gendered nature of interaction and to cultural safety. The second example comes from research with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians. The diversity of First Nations peoples across Australia means there is no one Indigenous epistemology nor protocol regarding collaboration with non-Indigenous researchers. However, much research has been experienced by Indigenous Australians as a kind of knowledge colonialism leading to reluctance among some to participate in any research led by non-Indigenous people (see Watkin Lui et al. Citation2016).
4. Use of the term ‘Blak’ is increasingly common among Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians as an expression of both blackness and indigeneity that challenges negative and disempowering racial insults (see https://sites.google.com/site/australianblakhistorymonth/extra-credit). ‘Blackfella’ (also ‘Blackfulla’) is used in a similar way to invert the derogatory implications of racialized language but can be considered offensive if used by non-Indigenous people.
5. I am honoured to live and work on Yirrganydji country and to collaborate regularly with neighbouring peoples, including Mandingalbay Yidinji, Gimuy Yidinji, Djabugay and Kuku Yalanji. It is considered respectful to refer to the specific tribal or nation groups to which Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Australians belong, whenever possible. Reference to people as Aborigines or Natives, alternatively, is increasingly considered disrespectful.
6. For example, in the US, where the Census Bureau currently asks whether people self-identify as White, Black or African American, American Indian or Alaska Native, Asian, and Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander.
7. For example, industrial disasters, such as the Union Carbide factory explosion in Bhopal, India, that caused several thousand deaths among mostly poor residents of slum areas surrounding the plant (Bisht Citation2018).
8. The subjective feelings or emotions associated with word choice and interpretation.
9. Some readers will doubtlessly be wondering about my own social position. It would be easy to make a statement declaring my awareness that as a well-educated Australian male of European descent I am the embodiment of white, settler and male privilege, but it would be inconsistent with the arguments presented in this essay to assume that, by itself, this tells the reader anything particularly useful. The meanings and implications of these categories (for me and for others) are too context specific. As a senior university officer based in Far North Queensland, the most pressing questions for me focus on how to provide institutional leadership in relation to social and environmental justice while supporting the rights of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples of the region, and of our neighbours in Papua New Guinea, to political and economic empowerment. The answers to these questions generally emphasize listening, dialogue, collaboration, mentoring, and always allowing First Nations people to articulate their own aspirations, knowledge and expectations. Never is the responsibility to listen accepted as an excuse for silence or inaction.
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