6 thoughts on “Environmental Racism”

1. Reflections by Marc

   I found this a diverse and fascinating set of readings, each contributing a very specific angle of analysis, which requires a ‘locking in’ of some aspects in order to explore others.

   LOCKING IN RACE TO BROADEN ‘RACISM’
   Pulido (2000) deploys the non/white binary quite casually and unproblematically in her analysis which seeks to expand understandings of environmental racism beyond the narrow confines of ‘discriminatory acts’ and into the realm of historical political economy. While I found her conceptual argument quite compelling, I wasn’t quite convinced her empirics backed it up in a rigorous sense. I don’t think her concept of white privilege ‘emerged’ from the story, any more than a broader argument about cultural politics of identity construction. Perhaps ironically, she cites racist *acts* in her evidence base, such as explicitly race-based neighbourhood constructions and investment narratives. It feels like there is a tension between her use of racist acts for her evidence base, with her wider project of moving beyond them.

   In her 2002 paper, Pulido basically argues that geography is a white discipline and this is limiting its relevance and credibility to speak to issues of ethnic identity. I admit that I knee-jerked in response to this paper, and it made me question whether I am ‘racist’ for doing so. But I think there are two issues at stake here, which Pulido’s contribution treats as equivalent. The first issue is whether geography can and should be more ethnically plural than it is currently. I agree that geography – as across the academy more broadly – reflects racialized opportunity sets, historical contingencies and so on. So I agree with a strong drive to increase the ethnic diversity of practising geographers (however defined). However, I do not agree that ethnicity *necessarily* makes one’s analysis better or more relevant for race studies. I am half Japanese, but I don’t speak Japanese nor would I claim any special privilege to knowing Japaneseness, especially against (say) a white or non-white person living in Japan. Pulido essentializes race here, and I fundamentally disagree – this should NOT be an organizing concept for racial scholarship (see Moore et al 2003).

   LOCKING IN ‘RACE’ AND ‘RISK’ TO EXPLORE DIFFERENTIAL VULNERABILITY
   Cutter et al (2000) describe a pragmatic approach to quantifying differential aspects of hazard exposure and vulnerability across social space (geography) and strata (income, gender, race). In this sense their concept of race is constrained by census data, and their concept of risk – a notion thoroughly pluralised in sociology – is also rigid and quantitative. Their analysis concludes, surprisingly, that those of medium vulnerability with medium exposure are the most at risk. The highest exposure in this case coincides with rich white areas by the coast, who are least ‘vulnerable’. The power (as per Moore et al 2003) of this conception works to allocate investments and reify particular subject positions for managerial action. As political ecologists well know, such subjectivities might well be subjugating…

   FROM LOCKING IN TO OPENING UP RACE
   Both Moore et al (2003) and Di Chiro (2003) in different ways seek to move beyond an essential conceptualization of race, and to think about the why and how of racial subject-creation. Moore et al (2003) critique race as a natural concept, and draw attention to the *work* that ‘race as nature’ does in and on social groups, mediated of course by *power* relations unique to the discursive *terrain* in question. Fundamentally they argue for seeing the power being deployed through racial propositions and concepts – a well-established notion by now I think. Di Chiro (2003) takes this deconstructive proposition to the ‘global commons’ discourse, but she also seeks to respond in a constructive manner. She wonders how common interests might be promoted (rather than a single common ‘world’) through difference without trying to collapse plurality into a single subject position. Hers is ultimately a pragmatic politics, looking to build coalitions to get things done.

   In the bigger picture, of course, all of these analyses bring something valuable to the table, and it is difficult to see how they might be reconciled – or should they? To always problematize ‘race’ as a category could mean undercutting the powerful insights of Pulido (2000) and Cutter et al (2000), but also to not question their categories can lead us into questionable investment trajectories. Perhaps in the final analysis I appreciate Di Chiro’s analysis the most for its effort to engage in sensitized and practical reconstruction.

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2. Out of all the concepts addressed in the weekly readings, I believe that the most relevant for geography and political ecology is the debate on the nature and definition of racism. Whether or not racism is understood as an intentional action is crucial in shaping the conceptual framework and methodology of studies on environmental racism. As Pulido (2000) explains, a conception of racism limited to intentionality “prevents us from either grasping the power and spatiality of racism or identifying its underlying effectiveness in perpetuating environmental injustice.” Political ecology, by its oppositional nature, focuses on social, political and economic factors that affect power structures. Therefore, it seems to be the ideal discipline to integrate a larger definition of racism that takes into account evolving structural, social and historical patterns. Nevertheless, Pulido argues that most geographers do not adequately question the nature of racism. She believes that it brings important questions, such as “what are we to make of a body of literature that purports to address the question of racism but is estranged from mainstream scholarly understandings of racism? Why do so many scholars cling to such a narrow conception of racism (Pulido, 2000, p. 33)?”

   At the time of publishing their article in 2000, Cutter et al. mentioned that few studies on hazard vulnerability had considered both biophysical and social components. These conceptual models that take into account both of these elements have many advantages, including the possibility to identify the “vulnerability of places” (i.e., the spatial variability in vulnerability) and to develop mitigation strategies to reduce potential losses of areas that are most vulnerable and susceptible to be affected in the long-term by hazard events. However, I believe that the model elaborated by Cutter et al (2000) also has its limitations. To begin with, the use of a limited scale does not allow to take into consideration the external factors that affect the region of interest (described by Pulido as “larger sociospatial processes”). By limiting their study to a county, the authors might not be able to consider the real variables that affect social vulnerability. Also, the treatment of race as a discrete variable does not make allowances for consideration of the historical, economic, political and social components that potentially generate racial inequalities. As Pulido (2002) explains, “if racism is inherent to a social formation, then it is difficult to segregate it, either as a topic or in one’s analysis.” In this case, the scale of analysis (county) might not coincide with the scale of racist activity. Furthermore, the use of the ‘number of non-white residents” as a discrete vulnerability variable does not account for differential patterns of racism (e.g., difference between Afro-American, Chicano and Asian-American) or to the possibility that non-whites communities do not face environmental racism. Also, giving the same importance to all the social vulnerability indicators can be misleading since it disregards their interconnectedness (e.g., mean house value and number of mobile homes) and their relative contribution to vulnerability. This brings questions on what are vulnerability indicators and which arguments are available to build them. How can we account for their relative contribution to vulnerability? That being said, Cutter et al. (2000) acknowledge most of these limitations, giving difficult access or non-existence of data as a justification. I believe that the complexity of human/environment interactions definitely makes it challenging for geographers to develop inclusive models that effectively reflect reality. The study by Cutter et al., being one of the first to consider both biophysical and socioeconomic components, provides a useful guide to be used in further research on hazard vulnerability.

   In a previous week, I pondered how political ecologists and geographers cope with their own subjectivity and cultural lens. Consequently, I found Pulido’s opinion on how “whiteness” affects studies on environmental racism in geography very enlightening. She believes that the overwhelming presence of white researchers partly justifies the absence of discussion and questioning on the nature of race in geography. As she explains, “we all occupy different racial positions and experience race differently. While I argue strenuously that race is a rigorous area of scholarship, there is no denying that we all have experiences and feelings about race, since we are all racialized (Pulido, 2002, p. 46)” In a progress report on geographies of identity, Dr. Lawrence D. Berg (2012), from UBC, tried to explain why human geography, and more specifically “critical geography’, is a discipline shaped by white supremacy. He argues that “because critical geographers understand ourselves as ‘more critical’ than our (non-critical) colleagues, this sense of being critical produces in us a subject position that remains ignorant of the ways that we reproduce particular forms of racialized marginalization.” Berg believes that three causes explain why white supremacy is present in geography. First, he acknowledges that most geographers are white. Second, he believes that the modern forms of liberalism and neoliberalism overly present in academia lead to white supremacy because it rejects differences, it permits white researchers to detach themselves from racist individuals even though they benefit from “white privilege” and it leads to exclusion through liberal inclusionary teaching. Thirdly, he explains that we misinterpret the idea of white supremacy because of our understanding of hegemonic whiteness. As he puts it, “the only people for whom whiteness is seemingly ‘invisible’ is white people, and we clearly benefit from the seeming invisibility of our whiteness and the privilege that goes with it (p. 514-515).” He believes that we need to perceive whiteness as a product of everyday life instead of “some kind of extraordinary state of affairs.” After reading Berg’s article, Pulido cannot appear more accurate when saying: “Instead of people of colour having to assimilate to the white culture(s) of academia, it is time for academia to accommodate us (Pulido, 2002, p.47).”

   Questions

   Is there a way to escape the ‘whiteness’ and white supremacy that is encountered in geography? How can we prevent the strong neoliberalist foundations in geography to generate this white supremacy? How can a geographer objectively reflect on how he benefits from white privilege?

   How could geographers start to seriously think about and discuss the nature of racism?

   What are social vulnerability indicators and which arguments are available to build them. How can we account for their relative contribution to vulnerability?

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3. I found Laura Pulido’s writing most resonant this week, particularly I think in her structural analysis of the discipline. I imagine that most, if not all fields, suffer from similar problems. As Pulido explains in her 2000 article, “Rethinking Environmental Racism: White Privilege and Urban Development in Southern California”, white privilege is something that benefits whites such that, perhaps without malicious intentions, they have a vested interest in maintaining a status quo. This power is then reproduced throughout society from institutional levels to individuals. It is fairly evident that the academy is predominantly white, but the same can be said for gender, class, etc. In much of North America’s colonial history the power players and those that benefit the most fall into the group of white, heterosexual, christian, wealthy and male. Given the pervasiveness of this privilege it is important to reflect on the composition of not just individual fields of study but institutional structures at large.

   However this is tricky terrain, and I appreciated how Pulido acknowledged this, even admitting that she does not know how to proceed. (Pulido, 2002) But despite the potential pitfalls of this investigation, I found that Pulido proved her point to me through my own thought trajectory whilst reading the article. Initially I was sympathetic but reserved. My interest grew when she asserts that: “In a discipline that is over 90 percent white, many individuals feel no need or desire to investigate race, as the current hierarchy serves them well. Simply put, race is not a problem for most geographers in their daily lives.” (45) I think this is a point that stands highlighting, because it stretches to any background. Of course this is not to say that a minority geographer must be interested in race as an issue, just that people tend to have an inclination to the issues that have most affected their lives. I find that because I come from a rural family and grew up in an agricultural community I find those issues to have a particular resonance. So it is reasonable to say that issues of race may be marginalized within any academic discipline because, as an issue, it is less present on the minds of a predominantly white contingent.

   As Pulido makes clear, this is not to say that white geographers cannot be interested in, or have valuable insight into, race. I found her invoking of the feminist example to be particularly useful here. “Only after women gained access to academia did the study of gender flourish. Men could have taken the lead, but they did not. Because patriarchy was a problem for female geographers, they studied it seriously.” (46) I suppose in an ideal world every discipline would be comprised of a diverse group of people from all backgrounds, but in lieu of this (and accepting the problematic nature of this desire), what must be pursued is a mix of rigour and empathy. One of the things that I most appreciated in our discussions over the social construction of nature was the realization that while deconstructing our ways of knowing a space did not lead to any easy conclusions or policy decisions, it did allow for a more multi-layered consideration of the topic.

   It seems to me that race as a topic of inquiry should not only be emphasized as an alternate viewpoint to the dominant discourse, but as an intrinsic part of a larger whole. In addition to this important research and demonstration of environmental racism, it must be expressed that everyone stands to lose from instances of environmental racism, regardless of scale.

   Question: Pulido acknowledges that environmental racism has been largely linked to urban studies, ie at the expense of studying issues of race in rural environments. What are the particular pitfalls that come with linking a race or ethnic group to a place? How can they be acknowledged and mediated?

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4. Reflection
   Environmental justice (I): Environmental Racism

   The common conception of environmental racism is understood as the processes of unequal space distribution of risks exposure and protection of minorities.. Following Laura Pulido’s ‘Rethinking environmental racism’ this commonly found understanding of environmental racism misses the role of structures and hegemony in the production and reproduction of such unequal distribution and transforms racism into discrete malicious acts. She argues this focus on intentionality reduces racism to aberration and makes it difficult to understand and prove in large groups of people. To counteract this conceptual problem she introduces the notion of white privilege, which allows her to make assertions regarding racism without the need for intent. White privilege refers to hegemonic structures, practices and ideologies that do not require malicious intent, by being the reproduction of racial hierarchy that regardless of if it is knowingly or not undermines the well-being of non-white communities. The problem here is that the issue of race runs so deep that assuming that conscious intent is necessary for determining racism is naïve.
   Pulido (2002) also argues that this common misconception comes from the lack of a systematic focus on race in the field geography which leads to the oversimplification of race as an aberration and not a structure for social relations. She asserts that this is a product of geography being a white discipline, meaning that the big majority of geographers are white. According to Pulido the lack of problematization of race in the field comes from the fact that race is not a problem for whites. Although I’m not entirely familiar with the race politics of academia in North America I can image that they reflect broader patterns of exclusion and privilege. Furthermore I’m always for any call for consideration about race and political commitments in academia and a call for inclusion along with the blurring of disciplinary boundaries rarely seems like a bad idea. Like Moore et al. proposed the political stakes of nature and race lie in the way they become articulated in particular historical moments, the environmental fields in academia are not excluded from this.
   On the other hand, other kinds of work can also bring discussions of race into the table, DiChiro is exemplary in the way she approaches Toxic tourism as part of the broader and racially and socially problematic discourse of ecology (global commons) and still as a viable and positive way of spinning the meaning of that discourse. In contrast Cutter et al. seem to bring forward a more useful analysis by providing tool that can aid policy making, but I find their conceptual base lacking and their overall formula problematic, actual differential effects or impact in communities is not really considered and it seems likely that it would be highly socially determined.
   Question.
   To what extend is the issue of race pertinent in most discussions of the environmental fields? In what kinds of research does race become crucial in the explanations and understanding of social and environmental issues? What are the stakes of overlooking race? What are the methodological limitations we may encounter if we include race as a main factor in our work?

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5. Clearly there were some issues uploading this, note the question marks.

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6. In the introductory chapter of Race, Nature and the Politics of Difference the authors frame their question “how do race and nature work as a terrain of power?” in terms of cultural politics (1). The authors understand cultural politics as “an approach that treats culture itself as a site of political struggle, an analytic emphasizing power, process and practice” (2). The insertion of culture into the political is distinctly Gramscian; they draw on Gramsci explicitly when they state: “We agree that racial and natural verities must be rigorously denatured. But this is not enough. Couplings of these two persistent terms gain their specific character on what Gramsci termed “the terrain of the conjectural”. These contingent formations are at times profoundly dangerous but at other moments profoundly liberating” (3). Part of Latour’s issue in “Why Has Critique Run Out of Steam?” is the way in which social constructionist studies of science have been adapted by political groups in order to invoke political paralysis, particularly concerning climate change. Yet as the statement by Moore et al illustrates, ideas can always be taken and manipulated in ways beyond the intent of the author; there are always unintended consequences. What I found compelling in the introductory chapter is that alongside the need to deconstruct and denature, there is an explicit hope that in doing so, we can also imagine other means of remaking the terrain of race and nature. As Latour states: “The critic is not the one who lifts the rugs from under the feet of the naive believers, but the one who offers the participants arenas in which to gather” (246).

   Laura Pulido’s pieces also speak to Latour’s idea of arenas. In sum, both pieces address the need for a seriously study of race to be incorporated into both environmental racism studies but also in Geography as a discipline. The title of the 2002 piece speaks volumes; “White Discipline” speaks as much to the unconscious, disciplinary nature of white privilege as it does to the racial makeup of academia. She makes an excellent point about how most studies of environmental racism take racism as a singular act rather than as a structural (and therefore cultural) issue. In the “Environmental Racism”, she states: “Although the geography of environmental racism is the result of millions of individual choices, those choices reflect a particular racial formation, and are a response to conditions deliberately created by the state and capital” (25). Arguably, the same schema of individual choices that effectively serve state and capital is also at work in the ways in which geographers treat race in their work and in academic culture. How can a systematic study of race allow geographers to incorporate anti-racist politics, and how could this process be a part of creating Latour’s arenas?

   In “Revealing the Vulnerability of People and Places”, the authors acknowledge race and ethnicity as a factor social vulnerability. In their study of Georgetown, the authors find that social and biophysical vulnerability do not necessarily overlap. While race itself is not a central aspect of the analysis, it is present. This is a very practical piece that speaks to the actual decisions that municipalities and governments make. But I really found myself wondering what this article would have looked like if it had been written about New Orleans prior to Hurricane Katrina. What differences would there be, and how would this study compare to New Orleans after the fact?

   I apologize for the tangential nature of the following, but I couldn’t get New Orleans out of my head. In the guest editorial section of Environment and Planning D (2005, volume 23) both Bakker and Braun/McCarthy seek to ‘denaturalize’ the affects of Hurricane Katrina by demonstrating the ways in which the disaster differentially affected New Orleans citizens, namely poor and black urban residents. Though their means of analyze are quite different—Bakker presents a ‘public transcript’ of the event while Braun/McCarthy employ Agamben’s ‘bare life’ as an analytic mode—both take care to involve the structural aspects of racism. Racism is emerges in the aftermath of Katrina not as the result of a singular event, but because it is built into the structure of the city itself. Both pieces also end on a hopeful note. Referencing the possibility of constructing new forms of ‘enabling assemblages’ Braun and McCarthy dare to hope that “perhaps in retrospect Katrina will also be written as that moment when the future began” (808). But today, nearly 10 years after the fact, I wonder how much has changed for the better in New Orleans. It is here that I would like to redraw attention to Latour’s notion of the critic. Latour’s notion of the critic as ‘offering arenas’ is seductive, but it is only half the battle. What use is an arena if there is no one in it to gather? As Bakker concludes: “active political struggles enrolling intellectuals “bearing witness” …can and sometimes do catalyze collective rethinking of our commitments to socio-environmental justice” (800). How can this statement be realized? What is the role, or even the responsibility, of geographers working on environmental justice issues to connect with broader social movements in order to make Latour’s arenas a real possibility?

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