Janice L

Autumn 2013

CRIMSOC: the Journal of Social Criminology

http://crimsoc.org In association with Waterside Press

Autumn 2013

CRIMSOC: the Journal of Social Criminology, Green Criminology Issue, Autumn 2013

CRIMSOC: THE JOURNAL OF SOCIAL CRIMINOLOGY http://crimsoc.org SPECIAL ISSUE: ‘GREEN CRIMINOLOGY’

AUTUMN 2013

EDITED BY ROB WHITE AND LIAM LEONARD

PUBLISHED IN ASSOCIATION WITH WATERSIDE PRESS UK

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Contents i. CRIMSOC Editor’s Preface: Liam Leonard ...………………………….p. 4 ii. Guest Editor’s Introduction: Rob White

……………………………p. 7

1. ‘Confined Animal Feeding Operations’: Michelle Larkins Jacques, Carole Gibbs, Louie Rivers III ……………………………………………………p. 10 2. ‘Exploring Environmental Activism: A Visual Qualitative Approach from an Eco-global and Green-cultural Criminological Perspective’: Lorenzo Natali …………………………………………………………….p. 64 3. ‘Technological Drift and Green Machines: A Cultural Analysis of the Prius Paradox’: Stephanie C. Kane and Avi Brisman ………………………..p. 101 4. ‘The Security Implications of the Illegal Wildlife Trade’: Tanya Wyatt ……………………………………………………………………………...p. 130 5. ‘Global Transference of Environmental Harm: The Case of Toxic Toys’: Diane Heckenberg ......................................................................................p. 159


i. CRIMSOC Editor’s Preface

Dr. Liam Leonard, Founder & Editor in Chief, CRIMSOC: the Journal of Social Criminology [email protected]

As CRIMSOC Editor, I am very pleased to introduce this international collection on Green Criminology as our Autumn/Winter 2013 Edition. I am particularly pleased that this special issue has been co-edited by Professor Rob White of the University of Tasmania. Prof. White’s contribution to the field of Green Criminology has been immense, and he remains a world leader in this area, having written numerous books on the topic, such as Transnational Environmental Crime: Toward an Eco-global Criminology and Crimes Against Nature: Environmental Criminology and Ecological Justice. We are also pleased that Rob has joined the Editorial Board for CRIMSOC/JSC.

This subject matter has also been enhanced by an increase in research and output, including the Green Criminology website. www.GreenCriminology.org is the homepage of the International Green Criminology Working Group. This spirit of co-operation was evident in the development of this edition, and I am grateful to Prof. White and the other contributors for their input throughout.

The primary goal of this edition was to provide a collection examining issues relevant to the discipline of Green Criminology, in order to further underpin this subject’s position in the wider field of criminology. I feel the collection has

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succeeded in this aim, and I am very pleased with the quality and diversity of issues discussed within the issue.

Rob White outlines his understanding of Green Criminology in the Guest Editor’s Introduction. This definition incorporates environmental laws, regulations and harms. He sets out his definition of environmental degradation as something which is global and “inescapable’ for humans, animals and plantlife. Michelle Larkins Jacques and Carole Gibbs explore the changes and impacts in agricultural production, from family farms of scale to industrialized agriculture. Lorenzo Natali examines a ‘Visual Qualitative Approach’ to green activism from an Eco-global and Green-cultural Criminological Perspective. Natali highlights the significance of online activism and social media for green advocacy movements globally. Stephanie Kane and Avi Brisman detail the emergence of the hybrid in their contribution.

Their study focuses on the

concept of technological drift to by examining the way ‘humans invent and use new devices and systems without sufficient thought for or ability to control the unpredictable effects that radiate outward through cultures and environments’.

Tanya Wyatt outlines the security implications of the Illegal Wildlife Trade in her chapter. In so doing, Wyatt moves beyond a national security perspective in order to open up a wider global discussion of illegal wildlife crimes. Diane Heckenberg closes the collection with an interesting contribution from her research on the global harms associated with toxic children’s toys.

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I am very pleased to present this collection with Rob White for CRIMSOC. This edition maintains our commitment to innovative research in all areas of criminology, and in so doing keeps CRIMSOC: the Journal of Social Criminology to the fore of scholarly publications in the wider criminological discipline. CRIMSOC will continue to promote innovative research in global criminology, and I welcome you to submit you research for inclusion in future editions of our publication.

Dr. Liam Leonard, Founder & Editor in Chief, CRIMSOC: the Journal of Social Criminology Orange County California, September 2013 http://crimsoc.org

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ii. Guest Editor’s Introduction

Prof. Rob White, University of Tasmania

This special issue of CrimSoc provides examples of recent scholarship and research in the rapidly growing area of ‘green criminology’. Green criminology refers to the study by criminologists of environmental harms (that may incorporate wider definitions of crime than are provided by strictly legal definitions); environmental laws (including enforcement, prosecution and sentencing practices); and environmental regulation (systems of criminal, civil and administrative law designed to manage, protect and preserve specified environments and species, and to manage the negative consequences of particular industrial processes).

In general, green criminology takes as its focus issues relating to the environment (in the widest possible sense) and harm (as defined in ecological as well as strictly legal terms). Much of this work has been directed at exposing different instances of substantive social and ecological injustice. It has also involved critique of the actions of nation-states and transnational companies for fostering particular types of harm, and for failing to adequately address or regulate harmful activity. Issues of environmental victimisation – pertaining to humans, specific eco-systems, and species (animals and plants) – are also of major concern.

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Environmental degradation, species loss and global warming are issues to which criminology, as a field, is increasingly turning attention. In part this is due to the sheer weight of the harms that are now affecting everyone on the planet, regardless of where we live. For instance, the effects and consequences of climate change are universal and inescapable. So too, the destruction of forests, abuse of animals, threats to biodiversity, and unsustainable exploitation of natural resources are manifesting in present-day conflicts which are predicted to intensify in the near future. Never in the recent history of humankind have issues of ecological and social justice been so intertwined or so urgent.

The interest in matters pertaining to environmental health and wellbeing, and conversely environmental crime (whether defined narrowly in legalistic terms or more broadly according to social harm or ecological criteria), has also been fostered by the concerted efforts of a growing band of self-professed ‘green criminologists’. As a result of their dedicated work, in less than a decade green criminology has become a staple at most international criminology conferences – such as those associated with the American Society of Criminology, the European Society of Criminology, the British Society of Criminology, and the Australian and New Zealand Society of Criminology.

Moreover, articles on environmental crime and related topics now feature regularly in journals such as the British Journal of Criminology, the Asian Journal of Criminology, and Crime, Law and Social Change. Specialist conferences and special issues of international journals on ‘green criminology’ and on the substantive concerns of eco-justice have also bolstered the presence and standing of green criminology worldwide. Green criminologists are no longer on the fringe insofar as a critical mass of academics and activists has now

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forged their place within conventional forums of criminology and criminal justice.

A hallmark of green criminology is the passionate concern of its adherents about the degraded state of the environment, the ontological and threatened status of nonhuman animals, and the material and ideological construction of human and nonhuman environmental victims. In the context of globalised systems of capitalist production and consumption, it is not surprising, as well, to see a heightened awareness of international connections, flows and transferences – the ‘butterfly effect’ is being realised in many diverse ways around the globe.

It is appropriate, therefore, that this special issue features contributions from several different parts of the world, including Italy, Australia, the United States, and the United Kingdom. This, too, reflects the increasing need for and usefulness of the interchange of ideas, analysis and application from different social, economic, cultural and ecological contexts. Engagement with colleagues from China, India, Mozambique, Russia, Ecuador and other non-English speaking and non-Western countries would likewise broaden our knowledge and provide new insights into old and emerging environmental issues, as would dialogue with Indigenous peoples. Green criminology now and into the future demands nothing less.

Rob White School of Social Sciences University of Tasmania, Australia

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1. ‘Confined Animal Feeding Operations’:

Michelle Larkins Jacques Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Michigan State University Carole Gibbs: Department of Fisheries and Wildlife, Michigan State University Louie Rivers III, School of Criminal Justice, Michigan State University

Introduction The dominant model of agricultural production, distribution and consumption in the US has shifted dramatically in the last century (Donham et al., 2007; Buttel, 2005). Economies of scale, bioengineering, agrichemicals and regional/vertical integration have increased productivity rates while decreasing direct costs to consumers (Buttel, 2005; Barkema and Drabensott, 1996; Busch et al., 1991). Further, average farm size has exponentially increased while at the same time farm ownership has become concentrated—often within networks of brand retailers and distributors instead of the historical family farm model (Busch and Bain, 2009; Lobao and Stofferan, 2008; Lobao, 1990). For example, the largest 2 percent of US farms grow fifty percent of total annual US produce (McMichael, 2003). This phenomenon is most often referred to in the literature as the corporatization (or industrialization) of agriculture (Busch et al., 1991).1

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In the literature, industrialization is often used to refer to several constructs, including scale (increasingly large farms), ownership (non-family holding) and vertical integration with corporations through the use of contracts (Born and Purcell, 2006).

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Corporatization has not been realized without social and ecological costs. Many small and medium scale farmers have seen their livelihoods diminished by the inability to compete with corporate farm distributors (Lehman and Krebs, 1996). Farm laborers, whose population has increased along with farm size, have also experienced negative socioeconomic and health impacts (de Souza Dias and Calvacanti, 2011; Barndt, 1999). Ecologically, monocultures and farm specialization can threaten biodiversity and soil health (Altieri, 1998), as well pollute waterways (Horrigan et al., 2002) and diminish air quality (Mirabelli, 2006).

While industrial agriculture is regulated, critiques have arisen regarding the equity and enforcements of these standards (Burmeister, 2002; Busch, 2000). Politically, scholars argue that the agrifood system has become characterized by neoliberal policy and practices that favor deregulation and market control (Busch and Bain, 2009; McMichael, 2003). Changes in the structure of the agrifood system are similar to the global restructuring of many other industries— shaped by the increasing power of multinational firms, consumer wealth/demand, technological efficiencies and sophistication of commodity organization (Burmeister, 2002).

In the agrifood system specifically, transnational corporations and their vertically integrated networks of producers and distributors (Heffernan and Constance, 1994) have considerably more authority than consumers or small to medium scale producers.

Konefal and Hatanka characterize this power

centralization as “science that benefits special interest and not the public good, economic policies that benefit a small elite at the expense of the great majority, and states that are not responsive to their constituents.” (2010, p. 2). This shift in

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agrifood governance toward market mechanisms results in participation becoming a function of economic status, thereby restricting access of lower socioeconomic consumer groups, smaller producers, farm labor and community residents (Konefal, 2010).

Further, the global reach of transnational

corporations has resulted in the import of many detrimental social and ecological practices to areas with the most permissive standards, or least ability to resist unwanted industry entrance (Juska and Edwards, 2004).

Scholars have long been interested in the effects of agricultural industrialization (Goldschmidt, 1978), but a recent synthesis of industrial farm research suggests that some important research gaps still exist (Lobao and Stofferahn, 2008). Namely, few studies investigate both the social and environmental impacts of industrial farms or how various social groups are differentially affected, instead assuming that communities are homogeneous (Lobao and Stofferahn, 2008). Of particular interest in this paper are the social and environmental impacts of one form of industrial agriculture—industrialized animal farms most frequently referred to as confined animal feeding operations (CAFOs).2 Like many complex environmental issues, understanding problems associated with CAFOs requires an analysis of the both human (social) and natural systems (Liu et al., 2007).

In the following paper, we summarize existing information on the social and environmental impacts of these farms and analyze what we know about CAFOs using four theoretical frameworks that could advance research on these farms: criminology, green criminology, environmental justice and conservation criminology. Criminology will be used to describe the legal context of CAFOs 2

There are technical definitions of CAFOs in the federal Clean Water Act regulations, but many to refer to them as factory or industrialized farms based on the shift from small family farms to large corporate farms (Zande, 2008-2009).

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in terms of compliance and enforcement. Issues of power and inequality related to CAFOs will be described using a sub-area of criminology, known as green criminology. Environmental justice frameworks that highlight inequities in the distribution of environmental hazards will shed light onto some of the problematic social dimensions of CAFOs. Finally, conservation criminology, a multi- and interdisciplinary approach to research on environmental crimes and risks, will highlight the human and environmental aspects of CAFOs by integrating perspectives from natural resource management and risk and decision sciences. We describe CAFO research within the U.S. generally, but to avoid assumptions of homogeneity also discuss research in one community in Michigan that is the site of a large concentration of CAFOs. It is important to note that this type of farming while first popularized in the United States has been rapidly implemented throughout the world (Juska and Edwards, 2004). For example, the US based Smithfield Corporation (a major pork product company), recently opened facilities in Poland and Romania that produce over 7 million hogs annually, primarily for markets within the European Union (Juska, 2010). Many of the same social and ecological concerns— such as disproportionate siting in low-income regions and agricultural waste disposal (Juska, 2010)— that we will explore within this paper are also of concern abroad. However, given our examination of regulatory compliance and enforcement frameworks, we will limit our discussion to US based CAFOs.

To that end, we begin with an account of industrialized animal agriculture in the United States and provide a description of social and environmental impacts that have been documented in association with this type of farming. Within this discussion we offer a brief overview of a study performed in Michigan from which we draw additional evidence to summarize what we know about CAFOs

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using our four theoretical frameworks. We conclude with a discussion of future research and potential interventions that draw on the synergistic strengths of the theoretical frameworks to improve CAFO governance.

Background Specific to animal based agriculture, confined animal feeding operations, or CAFOs, were first introduced to the American landscape in the early 1930’s. The mechanization of animal processing in the livestock center of Chicago, Illinois, quickened the pace of food delivery from farm to table. Post-World War II technological advances enhanced domestic grain production efficiencies, making it cheaper to buy feed than to grow it. Combined, these market changes meant that farmers could afford and were encouraged by consumer demand to maintain larger herds (Worosz et al., 2008).

Industrial agriculture models have allowed for exponential growth in farm scale and revenues, lower prices to consumers and decreased transportation costs (Cochrane, 1993; Cole et. al, 2000), but also fewer producers, a greater concentration of animals per farm and uneven community impacts due to regional specialization (McMichael, 2003; Lobao and Meyer, 2001, Lobao, 2000). Industrial animal farms are now characterized by a large number of livestock contained in closed facilities and an almost continuous cycle of production. Beginning in the 1970’s, researchers and advocacy groups began to voice concern that waste management practices at CAFOs (e.g., the application of manure to farmland as a nutrient for crops or for disposal) and the concentration of these farms would create an imbalance between the ecological carrying

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capacity for waste absorption and the actual level of production (Cole et. al., 2000). In addition to the ecological impacts, the presence and increased concentration of these types of farms in communities was also of concern. Thus, regulations were established.

At the federal level, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) established CAFO regulations under the Clean Water Act’s National Pollutant Discharge Elimination System (NPDES) in 1974, with subsequent updates (Frarey and Pratt, 1994/1995). The exact criteria differ depending on the animals raised on site and method of waste storage and disposal, but generally CAFOs are subject to regulatory authority if they confine and feed animals for long periods of time, do not raise crops during the normal growing season and meet specie specific thresholds for the total number of animals confined.3

Large CAFO owners are the focus of regulation because they typically engage in the manure, litter and wastewater storage and land application practices that are of concern. Thus, owners must obtain NPDES permits that establish limits on effluent discharges to water and the conditions owners must follow to avoid discharges to waterways, including standards required for waste storage (Centner, 2004).4 Along with daily measurements and visual inspections, these technological design standards (including thresholds for the amount of waste 3

The specific EPA Regulatory Specifications for establishing CAFO status are as follows: 1) A lot or facility where animals have been, are, or will be stabled or confined and fed or maintained for a total of 45 days or more in any 12 month period; 2) Where crops, vegetation, forage growth, or post-harvest residues are not sustained over any portion of the lot facility in the normal growing season; 3) More than 1,000 animals units are confined at the facility, or 4) From 301- 1000 animal units are confined at the facility and it also meets one of the specific criteria addressing the method of animal waste discharge (EPA CFR: Title 40, V.13, Parts 87 to 135. Section 122.23). 4

Large CAFO owners may request exemption from NPDES permit requirements if there is “no potential to discharge” (40 CFR part 122.23).

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that may be safely stored on site) are drafted to ensure that CAFOs can meet the specified effluent limitation guidelines.5 Given that state or regional audits are sporadic due to monetary resources and time, adherence to these standards are an important component of regulatory control.

Public interest groups argue that current regulation of CAFOs is inadequate (Centner, 2004; Zande, 2008-2009). As with other parts of the Clean Water Act, the permitting, monitoring and enforcement of CAFOs has been delegated to many states. Some states have devised more rigorous state regulations, but others have failed to even adequately implement the federal regulations (Zande, 2008-2009). The federal government has been criticized for failing to maintain oversight to the states, but states also suffer from inadequate resources and limited personnel (Centner, 2004). As such, many farms are not properly permitted. In 2005 the Government Accountability Office (GAO) formally cited the EPA in a Congressional Report, as some 60 percent of animal agriculture feed lots covered by the federal rule were not under permit due to frivolous exemptions (GAO-06-202.) Following this report, a new rule was drafted in 2008 aimed at closing permitting loopholes (CFR 399 F.3d 486, 2008). Yet, permitting discrepancies still exist (EPA, 2012). For example, a 2012 EPA report estimated that there are 17,329 farms in the US that meet the size thresholds to be considered a CAFO, but only 7,568 are currently permitted (EPA, 2012). Another citation from the GAO in 2008 noted that comprehensive

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In addition owners must monitor and document several pieces of information for potential audit (e.g., the annual amount of manure and wastewater produced per year, the selling or transfer of waste to other farms or facilities, records of soil and manure testing, protocols for land application, measurements of liquid depth, procedures in place for handling any deficiencies weather events that may overflow lagoons). They must also develop a Nutrient Management Plan for the handling and application of manure in addition to plans to avoid applying manure in areas likely to contaminate water (Centner, 2004; 40 CFR part 122.41).

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data on CAFOs (e.g., animals per farm, discharges, fertilizer use) does not exist, making identification of trends or regulatory problem areas difficult (GAO-08944). Finally, in addition to issues with NPDES permitting, federal law minimally regulates CAFO air pollution by failing to establish Clean Air Act regulations (Zande, 2008-2009). In 2005, EPA excused 6,700 CAFOs from illegal air emissions (Zande, 2008-2009).

In addition to limited implementation of minimal regulations, monitoring and enforcement is also lacking. At the federal level, information from the EPA Office of Enforcement and Compliance Assurance indicated that from 2001 to 2006, the EPA referred only one CAFO case to the Department of Justice for prosecution and only two administrative actions were pending against CAFO owners (Merkel, 2006). Further, some states also have lax enforcement. For example, Colorado does not routinely inspect CAFOs at all, seriously reducing the potential for the state to observe violations (Centner, 2004). Even when violations are detected, they are not always addressed as such. “Due to a lack of personnel, a desire to attend to more important matters, a desire not to be too onerous on farm operators, or for other reasons, violations of CAFO regulations may not lead to enforcement actions” (Centner, 2004: 715). In some cases state agencies may utilize cooperative models of regulation to bring farms into compliance, but these types of interventions may not be appropriate or effective in every case (for a broader discussion of selecting regulatory instruments, see Gunningham and Grabosky, 1994). Overall, problems with regulation are significant. However, even when permitted, CAFOs can have significant consequences for the surrounding area. In the following sections, we describe the ecological and social impacts of CAFOs.

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Ecological Impacts of CAFOs Research suggests that CAFO models of farming produce negative impacts in multiple environmental arenas. The United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) estimates the annual manure wastes from animal agriculture to in the US to be near 1.4 billion tons—with the most frequent method of disposal being direct or injected ground application of the fecal matter for field fertilization (USDA, 2005). While the recycling of manure as fertilizer has the potential to improve soil conditions and reduce waste, the concentration of these farm systems means there is often more supply than demand. Further, in instances where waste has been applied inappropriately (e.g., before an impending rain event) or on-farm waste storage facilities have leaked, the influx of manure has been linked to ground water contamination, nutrient loading of nearby waters, eutrophication, harmful algal blooms and an artificial increase of biological oxygen demand (Campagnolo et al., 2002; Oemke, et al., 2004). This is due to the wide array of pollutants and chemicals present in livestock waste, including organic and inorganic forms of nitrogen, ammonium and phosphorous (Burkholder et. al, 2007), pathogenic bacteria and microorganisms (Horrigan et. al, 2002) and traces of therapeutic antibiotics (Campagnolo et al., 2002).

Overall, effluent and lagoon seepage from industrialized agriculture is linked to 70 percent of pollution of America’s waterways (Horrigan et al., 2002). For example, each year the Gulf of Mexico experiences hypoxia, an event where dissolved oxygen is rapidly consumed by decomposing organic matter (manure and fertilizer components) reducing the amount available for marine life (Burkholder et al., 2007) due to a stream of sediments sent from the farms of the Midwest via the Mississippi River. Marine animals in this region must migrate

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or perish. In freshwater environments these hypoxic conditions have resulted in major fish kills throughout the food web, ranging from minnows to largemouth bass, and in estuarine fish, including striped bass and flounder (Burkholder et al., 1997). Further, as these organic sediments build, they shift the composition of phytoplankton species found in aquatic ecosystems, impacting oxygen levels and the diet available to planktivorous fish (Horrigan et al., 2002). Thus, both short term and long term disturbances are occurring in marine and freshwater systems as a result of agricultural run-off. Less is known about the impact of excreted antibiotics; however, some research has linked the presence of antibiotics to changes in soil microbial life cycles and the denitrification of beneficial bacteria (Costanza et al., 2005).

In addition to problems with waste and pollutants, concerns have been raised related to animal welfare in CAFOs. Approximately 10 billion farm animals are raised annually for food production, converting to a rate of slaughter of one million animals per hour (Wolfson and Sullivan, 2004). The number of animals raised explicitly for food and the production concentration of these animals needed to meet this demand has raised questions about ethical treatment. This is compounded by limited oversight6 and has led to a production system riddled with problematic protocols and outcomes. For example, as summarized in Table 1, severe crowding and selective breeding for maximum growth in CAFOs lead to significant negative impacts across multiple species of farm animals.

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Specifically, only two federal laws address farm animal welfare—the Twenty Eight Hour law (1877) addressing transportation and the Humane Slaughter Act (1958).

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Table 1: Summary of CAFO Practices and Impacts CAFO Farming Practices Severe crowding

Species Hogs

Hogs

Pregnant Sows

Chickens

Selective breeding for maximal Dairy Cows growth and yield

Chickens

Results Skeletal deformities in their feet and legs due to their confinement/forced standing on concrete floors Tails are surgically removed or shortened to prevent proximity biting Kept in gestation crates, unable to turn around for the entire 16week pregnancy (D’Silva, 2006). Beak removal to prevent economic loss from damage or disease due to aggressive behavior Mastitis, a painful inflammation of the udders, due to the selective breeding for larger and larger udder for milk production Reduced locomotion from joint deformities as a result of genetic modification for increased breast mass and live weight (Corr et al.,, 2003)

Social Impacts of CAFOs In addition to environmental impacts, a considerable body of research has linked CAFOs to public health concerns. For example, nitrate is the most prevalent nutrient released from fecal matter into watersheds and is a dangerous contaminant to humans. Elevated nitrate levels in drinking water have been linked to hyperthyroidism and methemoglobemia (blue baby syndrome) in infants (Kross et al., 1992). Ammonia emissions are the dominant form of gas released into the air, but are not the only possible air pollution hazard. Recent studies concerned with the occupational exposure of farm workers, catalogue the effects of bioaerosols (bacteria and fungi), non-biologic aerosols (animal feces,

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hair) as well as gases and vapors (ammonia)—all of which have been linked to respiratory symptoms (Cole et al., 2000). Farm workers and residents who live near farms may be at risk.

Recently, concern has amplified among environmental and science advocacy groups regarding the overuse of non-therapeutic antibiotics and growth hormones. The Union of Concerned Scientists’ report (Hogging It- Estimates of Antimicrobial Use in Livestock) stated that a full 70 percent of antibiotic use in this country is consumed in animal feed as a growth agent or as direct injections (Mellon, 2001). Excreted as waste, deposits of these antibiotics are being found in the surface waters near swine and poultry CAFOs (Campagnolo, 2002). However, at this time the best data available are still estimates, as this facet of industrial agriculture is not fully regulated7. Nor is the dispensation of the antimicrobials to farmers.

The social impacts of CAFOs are not limited to health and many of these impacts are experienced most directly by community members or proximal residents (Lobao and Stofferan, 2008). For example, community residents often experience property value declines. Research has documented a significant relationship between the proximity of an industrial farm (within 3 miles) and decreased sale prices, with rising devaluation as farm or animal density increases (Herriges et al., 2005). A similar study performed in Michigan, where swine CAFOs are popular, indicated a price deduction of $0.43 per hog within a 5-mile radius of the home (Abeles-Allison and Connor, 1990). The magnitude of this 7

A related issue is that of genetically engineered crops being used as animal feed, and the potential impacts to environmental, animal and human health. Similar to discussion of antibiotics and antimicrobials, regulatory oversight and understanding of public and environmental health impacts is limited. See Chowdhury et al., 2003 and Einspanier et al., 2004.

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relationship increased with an associated increase in the size of the farm and the proximity of the farm to the home. In contrast, counties with anti-corporate farming laws tend to have greater socioeconomic wellbeing (e.g., lower rates of poverty and unemployment) than those without such laws (Lyson and Welsh, 2005).

The traditional family farm has suffered as well. As farm ownership models have shifted, the average family farm earnings now represent only 14 percent of total annual income (McMichael, 2003). This is linked to the market dominance of corporate farm distributors. These large farms control approximately 95 percent of all US farm products (Lehman and Krebs, 1996).

Other studies have pointed to negative community impacts involving new CAFO siting and the resulting strain on the social fabric of the area (Thu, 1996). For example, in an in-depth study of six rural communities, researchers found deep hostility between CAFO and non-CAFO farmers and incidents of harassment of non-CAFO farmers and other opponents. Perceptions of a lack of institutional accountability also fueled community tension (Wright et al., 2001).

Regional concentration of CAFOs in the United States has coincided with favorable regulatory and labor market environments (Gouveia, 1994). Thus, the environmental and social impacts of CAFOs described above are likely to be spatially uneven (Donham et al., 2007, Heederik et al., 2007; Lobao, 2000; Lobao & Meyer, 2001; McMichael, 2003; Wing et al., 2000), leading to increased impacts among vulnerable groups. Scholars have found that CAFOs are significantly more likely to be located in low income, non-white communities (Wilson et al., 2002; Wing et al., 2000). For example, as the use of

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antibiotics has increased, the related risk potential for resistant bacterial infections and health impacts for farmworkers and their families due to occupational exposure or residential proximity has also increased (Osterberg and Wallinga, 2004; Voss et al., 2005). Two recent reports from the University of North Carolina found increases in asthma and asthma-related hospitalization rates among children who attend schools within a five-mile radius of a swine CAFO (Mirabelli et al., 2006). The schools in these studies were located in nonwhite, low-income communities. A 2002 study by Wilson et al., documented an increase in CAFO siting in primarily African American communities at or below the poverty line in Mississippi. A similar analysis by Wing et al., (2000) that investigated the concentration of CAFOs in a region of northeastern North Carolina susceptible to flooding, found that African Americans were more likely than whites to live in these areas and this same population was dependent on well-water for drinking. Thus during flood events when chemicals and agricultural effluent were most likely to be released from waste lagoons, these communities were unlikely to have access to safe drinking water supplies (Wing et al., 2000). These same communities are also less likely to have political influence or the means to engage with decision-making bodies (Bryant, 1995) to mitigate these effects.

Overall, much of the research investigating these farm systems has been in states like Iowa, North Carolina and Minnesota. However, as the CAFO model becomes more economically popular and continues to replace more traditional farming methods, it is important to examine impacts in additional locals. To further understand the social impacts of CAFOs, in our recent work we explored community perceptions of CAFOs in an agriculturally productive region of Michigan (Jacques, Gibbs, Rivers, and Dobson 2012). In 2012, Michigan had

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approximately 220 CAFOs and the number of swine CAFOs is growing (EPA, Region 5, 2012; Thu & Durrenberger, 1998). Thus, Michigan is an important area for research.

Previous research in Michigan focused primarily on production techniques, the effect of farms on property values (Abeles-Allison and Connor, 1990) or concerns of one demographic group (DeLind, 1998). Understanding variation in community perceptions of the social, economic, political and environmental impacts of CAFOs from an environmental justice perspective is important to fully understand the social dimensions of industrial farms. To that end, we used an exploratory case study approach that included participant observation, stakeholder interviews and 296 oral surveys. Persons of Hispanic descent are the largest minority group in the study site region thus we used purposive sampling to increase the representation of farm workers and Hispanic residents. We focused on one agriculturally dense region in western Michigan that contained a large number of CAFOs similar in size, scope and ownership (Jacques, Gibbs, Rivers, and Dobson 2012).8

In the following section, we will integrate additional literature, previously published components of our study and other pieces of our project to analyze what we know about CAFOs nationally and in Michigan using four theoretical perspectives that can advance research on these farms: criminology, green criminology, environmental justice and conservation criminology. Next is an overall summary of what is known about CAFOs. We conclude with a 8

Information from the National Pollutant Discharge Elimination System (NPDES) electronic permit database was used to map every permitted CAFO within the study area by animal species, size of operation, ownership, and watershed. FOIA requests were submitted for management plans for farms within the study site. This information was used to ensure the homogeneity of the farm type/size.

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discussion of future research and potential interventions that draw on the synergistic strengths of the theoretical frameworks to improve CAFO governance.

Theoretical Frameworks Criminology Criminology is a broad field, often defined as the interdisciplinary, scientific study of crime and justice (Sutherland and Cressey, 1974; Schmallenger, 2005). More specifically, criminologists examine the extent, forms and consequences of crime (or violations). Understanding the causes and control of crime and social reaction to it, including whether inequities in punishment exist, is also a significant component of the field. The social construction of law, considering why and when behaviors become criminalized, represents another area of inquiry.

Recall that large CAFO owners are required to obtain NPDES permits that limit discharges to the water. In regards to the regulations, criminologists would seek to understand violations, describing the level and types of offenses as well as developing a theoretical understanding of why they occur. These violations might include effluent discharges to waterways or failure to meet other permit conditions that seek to avoid these discharges. To date, systematic criminological analysis of CAFO violations has not been conducted nationally. However, some available data indicates a problem that warrants criminological inquiry. Public interest groups found that from 2000 to 2001, 81 percent of major CAFOs exceeded their permit limits on discharges to waterways. In addition, 30 percent of those CAFOs were in “significant” noncompliance (a

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threshold established by EPA to identify considerable problems) for 15 months (Centner, 2004).

In Michigan, analysis and understanding of violation behavior is complicated by the protections afforded to CAFO owners through the Right to Farm Act. Formal water quality citations are rare; CAFO owners who follow a set of voluntary best management practices are generally exempt. In cases where deficiencies resulted in discharges, if remedied within 30 days citation may also be avoided (MPA 93 0f 1981). Further, a common source of citizen complaint —air pollution or noxious smell— is not subject to FOIA requests. In addition, our FOIA request for any violation information was denied. Thus, while some violation data may exist in Michigan, it is not available to the public or for research purposes. Criminological examination of CAFO control includes assessing the type and effectiveness of penalties. Again, systematic criminological analysis has not been conducted. In part this may be due to the lack of data. Recall that recordkeeping is lax at the national level and in many states (GAO, 2008). State regulations can also reduce recorded violations. As previously described, in Michigan CAFO owners who are following best management practices and those who address problems quickly are not cited and therefore are not penalized. From a criminological perspective, this is problematic as it decreases understanding of violations and compliance. However, other state data systems may be more amenable to such analysis.

In addition to formal sanctions, a broader group of regulatory scholars would assess the impact of cooperative strategies and third party interventions (e.g., citizen suits) on CAFO compliance (for a broader discussion of these types of interventions, see Gunningham and Grabosky, 1994). To date this type of

26


analysis has not been conducted. As previously discussed, analyzing cooperative strategies for compliance was not possible in Michigan due to limited data collection and access. However, anecdotal evidence does suggest that citizen suits can be effective tools. For example, the Indiana Department of Environmental Management instituted an active CAFO inspection program following a citizen suit (Centner, 2004). However, systematic analysis of these suits and cooperative efforts by state agencies is needed.

Turning to other criminological research questions, analysis of the social construction of law would involve exploring changes in regulation of CAFOs over time and across place. As described in the background section, states vary in regulation and implementation. In addition, EPA attempts to increase CAFO regulation over time have sometimes been unsuccessful. For example, EPA drafted a new rule that all CAFOs had to obtain permit unless they had no potential to discharge pollutants. This rule was challenged in the courts in 2005 and the most progressive provisions were reduced. Although the rule would have increased regulated operations threefold, the actual impact was more limited due to the court challenge (Zande, 2008-2009). Prior research examining how laws change over time (e.g., drug policy) also asks why the changes occur. We return to this issue in the following section because in the environmental arena, it has primarily been addressed by green criminology.

Criminologists also often examine the consequences of crime, which typically involves studying victim impacts. In the case of CAFOs, violations could involve harm to the environment or human health, areas beyond the scope of criminology. Those interested in social reactions to CAFO violations might assess perceptions of crime seriousness, fear of crime or perceptions of

27


individuals or companies labeled as offenders. We know of no studies that examine these issues. Despite the breadth of criminology, some areas of study are not as well developed or central to the field as others. Understanding crime (or violations) and the effectiveness of government response constitute the primary criminological research questions. As such, research related to CAFOs would likely take this approach.

Environmentally focused crime scholars refer to this approach as liberal ecology or legalistic perspectives and criticize it on several grounds. Some suggest that this perspective lacks sensitivity to the human-centered nature of government regulation and falsely assumes that the existing system can be modified to address problems. This approach also fails to recognize the broader range of environmental harms beyond violations. Finally, a strict focus on violations does not invite examinations of power dynamics that may influence the way in which CAFOs are regulated (for a fuller discussion, see White, 2008; Gibbs et al., 2010).

Green Criminology Green criminologists have sought to improve criminological contributions to the study of environmental issues. Although there are many different green criminology perspectives, examining how power shapes environmental harm is a central theme of these perspectives (for an overview, see Gibbs et al., 2010, White, 2008 and Halsey, 2004). Green criminologists use the concept of harm to move the discussion beyond criminology’s narrow focus on crimes and violations and highlight the inadequacies of existing regulation. For example, some define environmental harm as “an act that may or may not violate existing rules and environmental regulations; has identifiable environmental damage

28


29

outcomes; and originated in human action,” arguing that the causes of environmental harm are the same as the causes of social injustice (Lynch and Stretesky, 2003: 227). Namely, environmental harm is the result of gender, race and class inequalities, with different theorists placing more emphasis on one specific form of inequality (White, 2008).

Power differentials between farm owners and workers are consistent with this perspective. As previously noted, the organizational elements of CAFOs have become increasingly corporatized; vertical integration into large distributors and the use of growing contracts have replaced previous structures. For example, from 1966 to 2001 the number of hog farms in the US decreased from over 1 million to just 80,000— while the number of hogs produced each year (57 million) remained relatively unchanged (Ribaudo, 2003). Contract production now represents over 60 percent of the US livestock market (USDA, 2005). This organizational structure often means that owners and members of upper management are less likely to live in the community (Donham et al., 2007) where the previously described social and environmental impacts are felt. In contrast, the quality of jobs and pay for CAFOs workers places them at a socioeconomic disadvantage. Several studies have shown that siting of CAFOs in agriculturally dependent communities has resulted in greater income inequality (Lobao, 1990),

increased

dependency on

state/federal

aid

(Durrenberger and Thu, 1996) weakened economic growth (Gomez and Zhang, 2000) and less local spending (Foltz et al., 2002). However, in studies that examined the perceptions of groups who are dependent on these types of jobs (including farm owners and workers, white and Hispanic males), support for CAFO siting and expansion is high and associated with feelings that CAFOs are economically positive for the community and important providers of jobs


(despite concern about environmental and health impacts) (Jacques et al., 2012). These group differences are indicators of power differentials between CAFO owners, workers and the larger community.

Other questions central to green criminology involve how and why some behaviors become the focus of law while others do not and whether enforcement differs by group (Lynch and Stretesky, 2003). In the case of CAFOs, green criminologists might also ask why monitoring and enforcement is limited. In regards to a lack of state action to implement CAFO regulations, there is some evidence that political and economic pressure of the agricultural industry played a role in some states (Centner, 2004). Yet, public health disasters seem to have pushed other states to act despite the strong presence of agriculture and some states have been proactively implemented the regulations (Zande, 2008-2009). Other factors may also contribute to permitting discrepancies. For example, it seems that confusion regarding regulations has led some farmers not to request permits (Center, 2004). Further, inadequate attention to increases in farm size over time sometimes delays permitting (Centner, 2004). Future work should examine these issues on a more systematic basis to uncover to what extent power dynamics play a role in under-permitting.

Existing information also indicates a need to analyze power dynamics in current regulatory practices. For example, some regulatory and enforcement practices attempt to restrict corporate power, but do not operate as intended. Even where there is opportunity for the public to participate in regulatory decisions, there may be barriers for certain segments of the community. Citizens who participate are often from higher socioeconomic groups (Weber, 2000) or are paid consultants from business interests (Irvin and Stansbury, 2004).

30


This problem is apparent within Michigan. In this state, CAFO owners must submit public justification for the expansion of their operations (and thus the potential increases of pollutant discharges to waters of the State) under the auspices of the NPDES regulations (Rule 323.1098). This process is known as the anti-degradation demonstration, and the farm owner must assert the ways in which the farming operation will bring benefit to the community in return for the potential risk to water quality. While this demonstration is open to community members and could theoretically curb growth, there has only been one instance where an expansion/siting permit was denied in Michigan (Michigan Department of Environmental Quality- MDEQ, 2008).

The agency guidance provided to CAFO owners state that typical justifications include employment growth, employment reduction avoidance, social and economic benefits to the community and increases in industrial, commercial or residential growth (MDEQ, Rule 98, sub-rule 4). In agriculturally dependent communities, resistance to these economic gains would be unlikely. Further, the resources to prepare an appropriate rebuttal, such as an economic impact analysis or environmental risk assessment, are not available to most community members.

In addition, some national and state-specific CAFO regulatory and enforcement practices may serve to further advantage corporate owners and disempower communities (and workers). In Michigan, a memorandum of understanding exists between the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality and the Michigan Department of Agriculture and Rural Development (MDARD). In practice, the MDARD (the agency in charge of agricultural growth) often

31


investigates complaints rather than the regulator. Further, a set of standards and management practices written and overseen by MDARD, known as GAAMPs (Generally Accepted Agricultural Management Practices) may be used to dismiss citizen complaints under the auspices of the Right to Farm Act. For example, if a community resident were to lodge a complaint against a CAFO in Michigan, the MDARD must investigate the farm within seven business days of the complaint receipt. However, if the producer is following GAAMPs, the citizen grievance may be dismissed as a nuisance complaint. If the farmer is found to not be following GAAMPs, agency staff may work with the farmer to plan implementation of improvements within 30 days to avoid official citation (thus no record is produced). If a citizen files a complaint against a farm three times and the complaints are deemed unverified (i.e., farmer was found to be following GAAMPs), then per Michigan’s Right to Farm Act the citizen is required to pay the Agency the full cost of the total investigations (Michigan Public Act 93 of 1981).

Further, the content of previous citizen complaints and their geographic distribution are exempt from the Freedom of Information Act, which hampers the ability of community groups to gather knowledge of the operations in their area (MPA 93 of 1981). Thus, when some sections of the community are averse to the siting or expansion of CAFOs in their region, legal roadblocks to information about other potential stakeholders (i.e., those who have complained or commented) impede organizing and meaningful participation in regulatory hearings. Overall, these and other barriers to information can further restrict community ability to act, an issue to which we will return in the environmental justice section.

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Communities and environmental advocacy groups do have some leverage over corporate farmers, as national interest in food and production related issues have grown. Scholars have described citizen suits as one potential mechanism of control over CAFOs (Centner, 2004). In addition, the water quality platform of the Sierra Club is one prominent example of an environmental advocacy group that has begun working on both a state and national level to bring awareness of and community action against industrialized farming systems. From a regulatory perspective, the case of Waterkeeper Alliance, Inc. v. EPA, 399 F.3d 486 (2nd Cir. 2005) is one of the more recent examples of an attempt to limit corporate interests. However, as mentioned above, many of the environmental restrictions (e.g. proposed restrictions on agricultural stormwater discharge, stricter effluent limitation guidelines and an expansion of permitting requirements to all CAFOs) were vacated in the decision. Scholars have also noted (Winson, 2010) that most environmental and alternative agriculture movements fail to adequately address the cooptation of agricultural production by corporate interests.

These economic, social and regulatory power differentials are summarized in Table 2. From a green criminology perspective, the underlying reasons for limitations in monitoring and enforcement should be more systematically assessed. Links between these inequities and environmental harm should be explored. “The EPA acknowledges that inadequate compliance and enforcement by the states contribute to continued discharges and manure runoff,” (Centner, 2004: 718) but systematic analysis is required. Circumstances nationally and in Michigan certainly suggest a need to further understand the extent and relative role of power and inequality in CAFOs regulation and environmental impacts.

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Table 2: Power relationships between CAFO structure and communities Stakeholder Group Limitation to CAFOs:

Agency of CAFOs Increased by:

Limitations to Community:

Agency of Community Increased by:

Condition or Indicator Permit requirements of the NPDES The inclusion of the antidegradation demonstration within siting and expansion request Lawsuits and attention from State and US level environmental advocacy groups Economic Importance to State and Region Regulatory flexibility of GAAMPs and MOUs Protection from nuisance lawsuits and citizens’ complaints in the Right to Farm Act FOIA protection status of violations Dependence on industrial farming for jobs Restrictions to information based on limited data sets and technology access (discussed below) Disincentive to advocate because of 3 strike rule in Right to Farm Act Ability to bring public comment during antidegradation demonstration of the CAFO Lawsuits and attention from State and US level environmental advocacy groups

Environmental Justice Like green criminologists, environmental justice scholars also highlight issues of inequality, but instead focus on people by examining the relationship between environmental issues and disadvantaged or marginalized groups. Research in this arena has primarily focused on whether an association between environmental hazards and disadvantaged groups exists. Of particular interest is whether minority groups and those of low socioeconomic status experience a greater environmental burden.

Some leading scholars have argued that a broader set of environmental issues and additional marginalized groups should be included under studies that utilize an environmental justice framework (Bryant, 1995; Taylor, 2000). In addition to

34


location-based hazards, issues such as sustainable communities, healthy jobs and recreational opportunities should be assessed (Bryant, 1995). Further, the association between environmental hazards and other communities (e.g., women) should be included in environmental justice work (Taylor, 2000; Schlosberg, 2007).

In addition to the previously discussed siting of CAFOs in minority and lowincome communities, prior research on health impacts also highlights environmental justice concerns. This work indicates that CAFOs may have a greater negative impact on the health of a broader set of marginalized groups. For example, the respiratory and neurological effects experienced by farm workers, such as farmer’s lung and dizziness, are seen among the elderly and those with compromised immune systems who live near CAFOs (Bowman, 2000). These studies of near-by residents (distance measures are not uniform) have documented excessive respiratory symptoms, disproportionate diagnoses of depression and PTSD, increased reporting of flu symptoms and digestive malaise compared to communities with lower farm density and spatial concentration (Thu, 1996; Campagna, 2004; Bullers, 2005; Schiffman et al., 1995). Further, an increase of 100,000 animal units (100,000 lbs live weight) within a county unit has been shown to result in an increase of the infant mortality rate of 7.4 percent over counties who do not experience such growth (Sneeringer, 2009). A 2007 study (Heederik et al., 2007) found that female neighbors may be more susceptible to air emissions from CAFOs than male neighbors. Hydrogen sulfide is one of the most noxious gases emitted in the factory farming process, and exposure above permitted limits can quickly lead to a loss of consciousness (Merchant, 2002). Long-term exposure to hydrogen sulfide results in the tempering of nasal senses, decreasing the likelihood that a

35


farm worker will realize that emission levels are dangerous. Significant evidence also exists regarding the condition of “farmer’s lung,” and other associated sinus and respiratory malfunction due to constant inhalation of organic agricultural dust (also referred to as organic toxic dust syndrome) (Wing et al., 2000).

Additional issues of environmental justice relate to access to information about CAFOs (and their health effects), which may be limited among certain demographic groups. Generally, the U.S. population has low levels of science literacy/numeracy, which can make the communication of environmental and public health data difficult (Lipkus et. al, 2001). In addition, the digital divide— a term that refers both to the access to and comprehension of information and communication technologies— still exists within low income, low education and minority communities (Calvert et al., 2005) For example, Hispanics are generally less likely to use the Internet to find health-related information and the odds of seeking information from the Internet decreases even more among Hispanics who make $25,000 or less per year (Pena-Purcell, 2008). The digital divide is especially prevalent in rural areas (Calvert et al., 2005). Differing access to technology can increase social polarization between advantaged and disadvantaged groups in terms of “resources” (Castells, 1989; Kellog et. al, 2003) and as established previously, these groups are especially likely to be impacted by the social and environmental effects of CAFOs.

We found these problems in the Michigan research site. Hispanic service workers reported differential access to the Internet among their target population. In attempting to collect information ourselves, we experienced difficulty in navigating agency websites, as no less than six pages must be waded through to find information on CAFO regulation. We also found a lack of

36


any materials, in hardcopy or electronic versions, available in Spanish. Finally, we discovered that the expense of completing a FOIA request (approximately $100/file) would be cost prohibitive for many members of disadvantaged groups if they were interested in obtaining more information (Jacques et al., 2012). These conditions create significant barriers for many residents, but especially Hispanic community members. Combining this potential lack of access to information with inadequate science literacy among the general population demonstrates the significant impediment to the ability of some marginalized groups to integrate this data into their knowledge base.

Our qualitative findings also highlight problems with information seeking. In our survey, we asked respondents whether they ever needed or wanted information about CAFOs in their community. Sixty-two out of 296 of our respondents reported seeking information with limited to no success. Table 3 provides a selection of their responses to demonstrate this issue.

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Table 3: Qualitative findings regarding success with information seeking Knowledge-seeking for information about CAFOs

relevant “… [seek] to have education about the work (for jobs) not successful it was not clear.” “I do not have much information on the pollution of these farms. I would like more information” “…need to know to what conditions (economic and natural) our community is exposed to.” “I wanted to find out what kinds of pesticides they use and how much of them they use. I was not able to find out.” “…looked at work for pollution information. Looked online, was successful” “I wanted information about their effect on jobs and the environment. There is very little to find out there. Would like to see a city wide report.” “…wanted some information to explain what was happening with pollution. Would be helpful if the information were more publically available.” “Because I am concerned. Workers rights, where does the food go. I was not successful, would be nice if it were advertised.”

Lack of information can have impacts beyond unequal access. Environmental justice scholars argue that lack of access to information restricts people’s ability to effectively participate in public policy discourse (Bullard, 1990). This is especially true among disadvantaged groups when information is located on the Internet (Castells, 1989; Kellog et. al, 2003). This is of particular concern in Michigan given that there are only two points at which community members may participate in the regulatory structure of CAFOs in this state. First, by lodging a citizen complaint related to any “observed” pollution. However, as described earlier, citizens may be dissuaded to report complaints given the structure of the three strikes rule and the protections afforded by the Right to Farm Act. Recall too that the content of other citizens’ complaints and their geographic distribution are exempt from the Freedom of Information Act,

38


meaning that requests for most information is denied. Both of these conditions could serve to diminish the ability of community groups to gather pertinent knowledge of the operations in their area to organize effectively. Second, the public may voice concern or support for the siting and expansion of CAFOs during the anti-degradation demonstration, but again, these pending permit requests are located on the agency websites; and as reported above, data regarding the daily operations or potential violations of CAFOs is difficult to obtain.

Conservation Criminology The conservation criminology theoretical framework is complimentary to the concepts of green criminology and environmental justice in its focus on the affects of environmental crime and noncompliance on related social systems. However, the framework is unique in that it also examines risks to the environment that eventually lead to legal violations. The unique focus of conservation criminology on environmental risk and crime is due to the multidisciplinary nature of the framework (Gibbs et al., 2010). Theoretical and methodological concepts from the fields of criminology, natural resources and risk and decision sciences form the conceptual core of the framework (Gibbs et al., 2010). Drawing on ideas from each of these fields enables conservation criminology to examine environmental risk in tandem with environmental crime and noncompliance in social and ecological systems (Rivers and Gibbs, 2011). Furthermore, the framework’s ability to assess current and future environmental issues allows for the development of empirical and conceptual links between current risks and future law. It is conservation criminology’s partial foundation in the risk and decision sciences that provides additional insight into the examination of CAFOs and the Michigan case study.

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In the risk and decision sciences risk is defined as a function of the probability of exposure to a hazard and the expected consequences of the hazard if the exposure is realized (i.e., Risk = Probability × Consequence) (Arvai, 2007). Inherent to this definition is the concept of uncertainty in that the chances of an individual or group being exposed to a hazard are probabilistic (i.e., not known for sure) and the same can be said for the outcome of exposure to the hazard. The uncertain nature of risk can often lead to varied perceptions of a risk within a superficially similar community population. Heterogeneous perception of risk within a seemingly homogenous community population can be exacerbated when the risk is associated with potential or perceived benefits (Alhakami & Slovic, 1994). Furthermore, similar to concerns expressed in environmental justice literature, differences in race, class and gender within the community can also led to varying perceptions of risk. This is important, as understanding perceptions of risk can influence efforts to regulate the risk in question. This issue is highlighted in the Jacques et al., (2012) case study on Michigan CAFOs.

In the quantitative portion of the study, Jacques et al., (2012) found that Hispanic community members were significantly more likely than non-Hispanic community members to perceive the economic impacts of CAFOs as more important than potential pollution risks. However, Hispanic women were more likely to perceive the potential of environmental pollution effects of CAFOs to be more significant and the economic benefits to be less important than Hispanic men. Community members who had attained higher levels of education were more likely to be concerned about potential environmental impacts (Jacques et al., 2012). These findings support concerns voiced by Lobao and Stofferahn (2008) that socioeconomic and environmental impacts were often assumed to be

40


homogenous within community populations, ignoring differential risk statuses and perceptions by race, gender and class.

Within the unpublished qualitative findings of Jacques and colleagues, two issues are of note. First, some Hispanic farmworkers spoke about their concern related to potential human health effects, despite earlier quantitative findings that this population perceived a lower risk of this type of impact from CAFOs. Thus, it would appear that risk perceptions in this population are being mediated by the perceived economic benefits as Alhakami & Slovic (1994) suggest. Table 4 provides excerpts from interviews with Hispanic farmworkers that reveal concern about both the health risks from CAFOs and the potential economic affects of CAFOs. In addition to developing a better understanding of a community’s concerns about CAFOs, a systematic examination of risk perception can also aide in the risk communication process (Morgan, et al. 2001) and understanding decision behavior related to CAFOs (Arvai, 2007).

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Table 4: Qualitative findings regarding risk perception of CAFOS Citizen perception of CAFO presence in community Interview Excerpts Concern about health risks from CAFOs “[I am concerned] because sometimes we do not know the chemicals we work in.” “So I would know what is going on in the farms near my house. Whether it will cause a disease if I breathe it in.” “…migrant labor is an issue in this community. This type of farming has an extremely high impact on worker health.” Economic perceptions of CAFOs “With the poor Michigan economy I think looking at the economic impact of industrial farms is very important.” “…a lot of farming around here, we depend on it.” “…a lot of my friends are small farmers, worried about their jobs.” “…people only concerned with money, whether it provides jobs, and not how it is hurting society.”

In the following section, we summarize what we know about CAFOs. Next we describe directions for future research using the aforementioned theoretical frameworks. We conclude with a discussion of risk governance, an intervention consistent with each of the theoretical frameworks, to improve CAFO oversight.

Discussion What We Know Literature on environmental impacts consistently indicates that CAFOs negatively impact water quality, which in turn affects fish and other aquatic food chains (Burkolder et al., Oemke et al., 2004). In addition, CAFO breeding and confinement practices lead to aggressive behavior and physical problems in livestock (Corr et al., 2003). In the social arena, research suggests that the economic benefit of CAFOs to the surrounding community may not be as high as anticipated, as CAFOs reduce property values and the ability of family farms

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to compete (Lobao, 1990). The community is also more likely to experience negative health effects (Wing et al., 2000) and potentially social strain (Wright et al., 2001). In addition, some marginalized groups (e.g., low income, CAFO farm workers) are at greater risk of health problems (Wilson, et al., 2002). This may be particularly true among Hispanic farmworkers and residents, due to constraints on access to information. However, groups vary in perceptions of the risks and benefits of CAFOs in ways that can be important for taking action.

Regulation, on the other hand, does not reflect the severity of CAFO impacts. The application of relevant legislation has been minimal and implementation of regulations that do apply has been inadequate (Zande, 2008-2009). In addition, state legislation can impede the ability of community and environmental groups to organize to address problems with CAFOs. Powerful agricultural influence on federal and state law may be partially responsible, but limited state resources and confusion regarding the regulations has also exacerbated the situation (Center, 2004). Regardless of the reason, the literature consistently suggests a need to address the current CAFO regulatory problems.

Overall, existing research provides a great deal of information on CAFOs, but there are still significant gaps in knowledge. The theoretical frameworks utilized in this paper help to identify directions for future inquiry. This work will also further advance the discussion of practice, informing what we need to know to improve policy and implementation.

What We Need to Know Research from a criminological perspective needs to be initiated in states with amenable data systems. This work would considerably advance knowledge

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regarding patterns of violations, state response and the relationship between the two. If some states compile data on cooperative actions to achieve compliance, it would allow researchers to also compare the effectiveness of punitive and cooperative models of intervention. Although potentially limited to one or two states, this work could inform efforts to improve data collection in other states. For example, it is likely to demonstrate the need to record the event and the state response even if CAFO owners are not formally cited due to state regulations. Systematic work on the influence of citizen suits on state implementation and ultimately CAFO compliance is also needed.

Green criminology perspectives would build on this examination of CAFO compliance and regulation. Anecdotal information suggests power imbalances may influence CAFO regulation, at least in some states. In addition, existing information indicates that power dynamics may disadvantage CAFO workers, an issue which we more fully discuss in the context of environmental justice. Future green criminology research should advance this area of inquiry by providing more systematic analysis of power structures that affect individuals working in and regulations of CAFOs. For example, green criminologists might examine the effect of corporate political power and the status of local economic systems on state-level variation in CAFO regulatory structure in the US. As mentioned in the introduction, the CAFO model is being replicated throughout the world, and transnational corporations seem to target regions where regulatory requirements are favorable to production (Juska, 2010). Thus, future research should also examine the relationship between CAFO presence, CAFO violations and transnational power structures and regulation.

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Environmental justice scholars could further advance understanding of inequities in information that exacerbate community attempts to address problems related to CAFOs. Current restrictions on information gathering suggest that the procedural equity (equal and informed participation in decision-making) of community members, especially those with lower socioeconomic status and for who English may be a second language, is lacking. Within the environmental justice field, more research is needed at the local and state level to determine where and how this occurs, and to identify practical solutions to increase informed participation. This scholarship should also draw instances where community resistance did occur, to identify additional mechanisms for advocacy. The inclusion of more citizen concerns may mediate some of the regulatory imbalances outlined within the criminological perspectives.

In terms of conservation criminology the research needs are related to the natural resources and risk and decision sciences disciplines. From a natural resources perspective there is a need to better understand the systematic effects of CAFOs on the ecosystems in which they are situated. For example, current studies in Michigan have documented the impact of CAFOs on local water quality (Oemke et al., 2004), but there is a need to understand their impact on the larger watersheds in which they are located.

Within the risk and decision sciences there is a need for further analysis of potential variation in risk perception patterns (especially among marginalized and minority groups) and the examination of the links between risk perception and the decisions that people make in the context of CAFOs. For example, would farm workers be more careful about cleaning the clothes that they wear to work at home if they were aware of the risk associated with the chemical

45


compounds they are exposed to at work? This line of research would also aide in the development and assessment of risk communication campaigns related to the health risks faced by CAFO workers.

Overall, current knowledge and additional research using each of the theoretical frameworks discussed in this paper can help improve knowledge of CAFOs. A multidisciplinary approach that integrates the tools from all four frameworks would result in a more nuanced and powerful analysis than any one framework alone. However, the future research questions described here represent a primarily social science perspective. Collaborative efforts between social and natural scientists could begin to answer important questions related to genetically-engineered feed or antibiotic use, and the application of responsive and accessible governance structures. Especially in relation to future research needs in conservation criminology, greater collaboration with natural science scholars is needed. Ultimately, the accumulation of knowledge will help inform practice. Nonetheless, some preliminary discussion drawing on the theoretical frameworks may be a useful starting point for improving CAFO governance.

Practical Suggestions Governance refers to the exchange between government institutions, economic forces and civil institutions (such as NGOs) that lead to collective binding decisions (Asselt and Renn, 2011). The conservation criminology framework, drawing

on

concepts

in

the

risk

and

decision

sciences,

provides

recommendations for better governance of CAFOs through its emphasis on risk governance. As discussed below, the concept of risk governance is synergistic with concepts found in criminology, green criminology and environmental justice.

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Risk governance builds on the concept of governance and refers to a set of theoretical ideas on how multiple actors (e.g., industry leaders, regulators, policy-makers,

non-governmental

organizations,

scientists,

affected

stakeholders) can work together to manage and make decisions about complex, ambiguous risk (Renn, 2008). Risk governance includes the related processes of risk assessment, risk management and risk communication. Traditionally these processes have been controlled by technical experts, industry and government officials. Risk governance suggests that to effectively manage complex risks, it is important to meaningfully include affected lay stakeholders into the management, assessment and communication of the risk in question (Renn, 2008). Risk governance’s focus on complex systems is an ideal application to CAFOs considering the multifaceted and uncertain nature of CAFOs’ affects on the natural environment, adjacent communities and related economic systems. In order for risk governance to be effective, three principles have been recommended: communication and inclusion, integration and reflection (Asselt and Renn, 2011). Table 5 briefly explains these principles and how they can be practically implemented in the context of CAFOs risk governance.

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Table 5: Principle of Risk Governance and Practical Implications Principles of Risk Governance Communication and Inclusion: As suggested earlier it is important in a risk governance framework to meaningfully include all relevant stakeholders. Key to this inclusion of multiple stakeholders is the development a communication process that is transparent, dialogic in nature and the foundation for building trust between the stakeholder groups.

Integration: This principle refers to the need to collect and integrate all of the relevant information, data and knowledge about the risk in order to inform the decision-making processes. This includes unconventional sources of information, such as non-technical lay knowledge and perception of the risk.

Reflection: This principle refers to the need to periodically revisit the decisions and context that pertain to the risk in question. This is done in order to continually update the information, knowledge and data related to the risk and the relevant stakeholders that should be included in the governance of the risk.

Practical Application to CAFOs in MI -Develop CAFOs oversight committees that include affected stakeholders -Structure and convene these committees to be mindful of cultural and economic barriers to participation (e.g., time of day, translators) -Include farmworkers, farmworkers’ families and the local community as relevant stakeholder groups that need to be include on oversight committees -Provide information in multiple languages (English and Spanish) and in multiple, easily accessible sources (such as a local community centers, churches and libraries) -Include lay stakeholder perceptions of CAFOs as a source of information for making decisions -Include farmworkers and farmworkers’ families experiences related to CAFOs as a source of information for making decisions -Include multiple sources of evidence from other communities to inform stakeholders of the potential short and long-term impacts of siting/expansion. -Include nearby residents’ CAFO experiences as source of information for making decisions -Make available the results of broad academic syntheses such as Lobao and Stofferan (2008) to make it easier for stakeholder groups to search within scientific literature. -Development of oversight committees that are periodically updated with new representatives to reflect the changing risk associated with CAFOs. -Development of a database of information concerning CAFOs that is accessible to all stakeholders and that can be updated with information from all stakeholders -Development of community specific metrics that can be easily interpreted by all affected stakeholder groups to determine magnitude/presence of impacts -Inclusion of citizen complaint information to focus or refocus oversight as necessary

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These principles reiterate perspectives and tenets espoused by the other theoretical frameworks discussed in this paper. The principle of communication and inclusion, or deliberately drawing in multiple stakeholders, is consistent with the need for including third parties described in criminological perspectives on environmental regulation (e.g., Gunningham and Grabosky, 1994). In addition, the principle of integration compliments the call for criminological work on violations and sanctions, as this information would be relevant to decision-making but is not currently available. Consistent with the examination of power dynamics in green criminology, it is important to note that in order for a risk governance process to be effective it is necessary for the process to be supported and driven by all stakeholders.

In the case of CAFOs, it is particularly important that those stakeholders with the most power in the system (e.g., the state, federal and local government, large scale producers) are willing participants. The principle of communication and inclusion is further replicated within environmental justice frameworks that insist that all groups have equal access to scientific, legal and administrative resources in order to meaningfully participate in regulatory decision-making bodies (Bryant, 1995). Furthermore, environmental justice scholars are increasingly calling for the perspectives and experiences of community members to be considered along with technical evidence of pollution impacts (Jones and Rainey, 2006; Taylor, 2000). This focus on community perceptions of CAFOs as a source of data for making decisions concerning their regulation is congruent with the principle of integration.

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Conclusion The industrialization of the farming process, personified by the proliferation of CAFOs, has led a to number of unintended and negative outcomes for local communities, farm workers and the natural environment. In this manuscript we have sought to summarize the existing information on the social and environmental impacts of these corporatized farms and to identify what we know and what we need to know by using four theoretical frameworks (criminology, green criminology, environmental justice and conservation criminology) that can advance research on CAFOs. We believe that this multi-disciplinary approach is necessary for developing a better theoretical understanding of the complex risks that CAFOs pose to both social and ecological systems. The accumulation of insights resulting from research that simultaneously applies the four frameworks we discussed within this paper will provide greater understanding and clearer recommendations than the use of a single approach. Further, the synergistic application of these four frameworks will help to overcome potential theoretical limitations associated with the use of one of the frameworks in isolation Additionally, practical suggestions for mitigating the impacts of CAFOs will require the use of concepts from a multitude of disciplines, from both the social and natural sciences. Albeit limited, we have taken the first step in this procedure by suggesting the potential application of risk governance processes to CAFOs.

In closing, as our work suggests, research gaps exist at both the local (e.g. heterogeneous community risk perception studies) and systematic levels (e.g. whole ecosystem impacts). Further, emerging questions regarding the use of antibiotics and the effects of these on workers and nearby residents should be

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examined. Studies are needed that address violation behaviors and patterns, but these are currently impeded by state legislation. This leads to one of the greatest needs identified within this paper— an examination of the regulatory structures of CAFOs, the power inequities that may shape them and how to include and inform the perspectives of marginalized groups within these. Drawing upon risk governance, the results of such studies could influence the change of state and local CAFO governance toward a more equitable body as we outlined in Table 5. Similar analysis should be extended to CAFOs in other countries, and applied to questions of transnational power structures, and international regulatory bodies. Further, greater attention to these structures at community, state, federal, and transnational levels could raise awareness of information restrictions and prompt necessary change.

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2. Exploring Environmental Activism. A Visual Qualitative Approach from an Eco-global and Green-cultural Criminological Perspective9

Lorenzo Natali, Department of Legal Systems, University of Milano-Bicocca, Milan, Italy ([email protected] )

1. Introduction With the expression “eco-global criminology” criminologist Rob White (2011; 2013) defines a criminological perspective based upon “three intertwined conceptual categories: the ecological, the transnational, and the criminal/harmful” (White 2011: 2). In this framework of analysis, environmental activism is a very relevant and crucial phenomenon which deals not only with acts and omissions that are already criminalized (such as illegal dumping of toxic waste), but also with events that have yet to be designated officially as harmful and have shown evidence of having potentially negative consequences. In this contribution, starting from an “eco-global criminology” (White 2011; 2013) perspective combined with a “green-cultural criminology” (Brisman & South 2013) which uses a visual approach, we will explore how a video depicting an interaction in an environmental conflict – uploaded onto the web by an important Italian newspaper (Corriere della Sera) – is commented upon by the virtual community of the environmental movement “NO TAV” on its Facebook page, to define and fight for the “real” meaning of that video. One of the tasks of eco-global criminology is,

The present contribution takes its starting point from a paper presented in 2012 at the meeting of ISA’s Visual Sociology Thematic Group in Buenos Aires (Argentina). The research has been developed at the Department of Legal and Economic Systems, University of Milano-Bicocca (Italy) and co-financed by the ESF and Lombardia Region. 9


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in fact, to identify the multiple discourses – often in competition with each other – contributing to the description of environmental issues, including those of the activists and those emerging from the use of the social network (See Heckenberg & White 2013: 96-102).

We suggest that a qualitative exploration of the possible meanings attributed to that video will provide more opportunities for understanding the complexity of that event. In fact, in our late modern society images and videos play a relevant role in the symbolic processes and interactions among social actors also in the context of environmental issues. As Andrew Szasz (1994: 41-54) reminds us, sociological studies have highlighted the fact that the television news often prefers “disorder” stories, e.g. stories characterized by disasters, victims, protests, in which abstract social issues can be effectively personalized and so made more accessible. In this sense, environmental demonstrations seem made to order for television. Furthermore, such protests often have an appealing visual dimension. The media coverage of Love Canal is paradigmatic: both the conversational and visual vocabularies typical of television, and the reports presented by the daily newspapers with an equally attractive abundance of images and captions, co-construct the reality and the media’s imaginary of “toxic waste”. Political discourses on the issue also feed upon the narratives circulated by the media and, according to a circular logic, in their turn feed these stories. In this contribution we will suggest that these reflections are very significant, also with regard to new forms of visual communication. As Damian Zaitch and Tom de Leeuw (2010: 184) maintain, “far from being mere ‘data’ to be gathered and interpreted, these virtual images have the power to create or trigger a wide range of social actions, from individual self-presentation and


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aesthetical expression to collective othering or even political action”. In that sense, the internet provides a rich environment in which to explore these visual and interpretative dimensions (see also Heckenberg & White 2013: 94-96).

In light of an even now barely emerging symbolic interactionist approach, we will try to observe some possible interpretations of the event, taking into account the fact that our knowledge of our own reality is in great part constituted by mediated content. Indeed, any interpretation and judgment we may reach about social processes, such as socio-environmental conflicts, will inevitably be influenced by the type of mediated narration proposed (including visual narrations). Our objective will not be to establish which of the opposing parties is right or wrong, but to suggest, from a green criminology perspective, the importance of exploring the ephemeral, ambiguous and ever-changing border between the image, the conflicting event represented and the words used to describe it.

2. Green Criminology, Environmental Conflicts and Victimization The opposition of local communities to new developments (public or private) in areas where they live is a global phenomenon and certainly not new. The origin of these forms of opposition is the social perception of the damage that such developments, and the consequent transformation of the territory, can do to the area where people live. Often such confrontational situations can be described using the expression Nimby, an English acronym for ‘not in my backyard’, indicating the opposition of local communities against the realization of infrastructures and public works seen as dangerous to one’s quality of life. If it is true that environmentalism “lives” off conflict, and that any choice having the environment as its “object” is inevitably confrontational because it penalizes certain


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interests and rewards others, then it becomes crucial to analyze the various dimensions of these conflicts, particularly within a criminological framework. In this respect, the criminological literature of recent years designated as “green criminology” (Ruggiero & South 2010: 247), has recognized the importance of reexamining the concept of crime taking into account and including within it also those conflicts, injustices and social-environmental harms that are usually excluded from the traditional frames of criminological outlook (White 2008; White 2011; Natali, 2010).

As criminologist Mark Halsey has noted, there are many ways of talking and writing about environmental conflicts, but very often the prevalent one is through stories, narratives that follow a dichotomous (and Manichaean) logic that do not reveal the complexity of the environmental “object” under scrutiny (environment versus jobs, protesters versus government or industrialists, crime versus law) (See Halsey 2006): “Like most David and Goliath narratives, such accounts make for interesting reading. But stories based on dichotomies […] do not, arguably, sufficiently articulate the nuances contributing to […] conflict as event – that is, as something which is both a discursive invention (i.e. an object of our policies, laws, imaginings) and a body consistently eluding efforts to frame, categorize, think, speak – in short, represent, ‘its’ aspects”. (Halsey 2006: 3)

The so-called casus belli that give rise to the conflict can be very varied and can involve larger or smaller groups: “the inhabitant of a territory (such as the Val di Susa) who oppose a new train line or a new motorway or a waste incinerator, but also the residents of an area or of a single street who do not want a parking area” (Della Seta 2007: 9)10. As we will see, the conflict is always about something more 10

On environmental conflicts see also Pellizzoni L. (2011).


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than the explicit casus belli, in fact the conflicts that take place “raise critically important questions concerning who we are (subjectivity), what we can do (power), what we can know (epistemology) and who we might become (desire)”. (Halsey 2006: 4) (See also Natali 2010).

A further decisive point underlined by some scholars in the field of green criminology concerns the processes of “environmental victimization” involved in socio-environmental conflicts. Recently, criminologist Rob White described “environmental victimization” as “an active social process involving relations of power, domination and resistance” (White 2011: 106). With reference to environmental conflicts it is appropriate here to highlight the importance of knowing the different forms of response taken by the victims of environmental victimization. As stressed by Christopher Williams (Williams 2006: 325), these can vary enormously: from passive acceptance to direct conflict and legal battles, from collaboration to violence. Certainly, if environmental victimization is lived as an act of violence against man and his environment it is not difficult to understand that the answer to the threat of an environmental crime or that of a potentially dangerous transformation of a certain territory, might manifest itself as violent social act in response to the initial victimization. However, as Williams remarks, it is actually because the victims’ reactions can take different forms that this cannot be taken for granted. The potential for it not to turn into violence must be explored to better understand such dynamics (Williams 2006: 326).

3. A Brief Story Of An Environmental Conflict The aim of the present contribution is to examine a specific socio-environmental conflict (the “NO TAV” case) focusing on the circumscribed but meaningful occasion of the broadcast on the web of a video showing a confrontation between an


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activist and a policeman in anti-riot gear. We will start by observing the video – words and images – and then will explore, from a qualitative point of view, the comments and replies to the video on the “NO TAV” movement’s Facebook page, returning to the days immediately following that event to see how this “virtual community” defined and interpreted the video. Firstly, however, it is necessary to briefly re-trace the story of the conflict. “NO TAV” is a movement opposing the creation of the new high speed railway line between Torino-Lyon because it is judged harmful to the environment and to people’s health, besides being expensive and unnecessary. The movement also supports the view that financial and criminal lobbies and political groups see the project as a chance for making large profits. Environmentalists and a number of scientists also argue that the mountains through which the tunnel will be dug contain deposits of uranium and asbestos. Historically, the “NO TAV” movement arose spontaneously following the first public gatherings on the issue in the early 1990’s11. The first demonstration against the high-speed train (Treno Alta Velocità, TAV) route took place in 1995 and resistance to it has continued ever since. In order to proceed with the expropriation of land, there was police intervention in the face of firm opposition from members of “NO TAV”, several mayors and the local inhabitants. On 27 th February, 2012 the expropriation of land along the project route commenced and, in the course of the protests one of the leaders of “NO TAV”, Luca Abbà, fell from a pylon and was seriously injured.

Concerning “No Tav” in Val di Susa see Padovan & Magnano (2011) and also Padovan, Alietti & Arrobbio (2011). 11


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The video we propose to examine was taken a few days after this incident and shows a verbal confrontation between a protester and a policeman in anti-riot gear. It is only one episode of what has been happening in Val di Susa over the last 20 years, but it encompasses some significant aspects of the conflict. This is why we decided to try and re-observe it through a qualitative exploration of the symbolic interaction represented and the comments of the users of the “NO TAV” movement’s Facebook page.

4. A Visual Approach For A Green-Cultural Criminology To study environmental crime and harm requires new modes of observation capable of synchronizing and tuning us in with the rhythm of social and environmental changes (Natali 2013: 81-82), such as those introduced by new technology. As Diane Heckenberg and Rob White maintain (2013: 86) faced by a constantly changing global world we need to think of methodological approaches which are both flexible and sensitive to these changes.

In a recent contribution Jeff Ferrell (2013: 349) noted how in the course of the last twenty years two new “emergent perspectives” have appeared in the criminological panorama: green criminology and cultural criminology. Both approaches shift and widen the confines of criminological knowledge, exploring a whole range of social harm and social consequences independently of their being defined as “crimes”. Such perspectives, place the object of their studies – environmental harm for green criminology and the dimensions of the meaning of actions and of representation in the case of cultural criminology – within a historical perspective up until the late modern period, matching one’s view of the specific issues that characterize contemporaneity.


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Again, Ferrell (2013: 350) highlights the fact that cultural criminology sensitizes criminology so that it takes into account and includes within its own perspectives a phenomenon unknown until a few years ago, i.e. the fact that crime, its images mediated by the various technological and electronic devices, and the collective experiences of crime are now inevitably interwoven.

Avi Brisman and Nigel South (2013) have pointed out when one analyzes the communicative dimensions of environmental conflicts and risks, such questions touch directly upon the territory of green criminology due to the opening afforded by cultural criminology. In this sense, the idea of a “green-cultural criminology” is an extremely significant proposal in so far as in the field of green criminology very little attention has, as yet, been dedicated to the dynamics covering the (re)presentation and the mass-media construction (by newspapers, TV, radio and internet) of phenomena such as environmental crime, harm and risk, and the ways public opinion can be shaped by communicative processes in which the visual dimension takes on a very relevant role (Brisman, 2012: 46-47)12. In “green-cultural criminology” – a criminological perspective that tries to think of new ways to analyze critically the intersection of culture, crime, justice and environment (Brisman & South 2013: 15-16) – particular interest is paid to the visual and iconic dimensions of these representations and to the selection processes of what will be made visible or what, viceversa, will be hidden regarding environmental risk and harm (see also Brisman & South 2013: 9, 15-16). In this respect, it will be necessary to develop an approach that manages to avoid falling into the trap of ahistorical 12

Brisman and South (2013: 3) maintain that the observation and the study of environmental harm and crime prove to be limited and incomplete without an understanding of their processes of social construction. In order to develop the interest of green criminology also in the mediated representations of environmental harms and in the phenomena of resistance against them, it seems decisive to explore and give value to the ties that it has with the so-called cultural criminology – that branch of criminology studying the relationship between culture and crime in late modern societies.


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analysis and “out-of-time” generalizations that do not take into account the historical originality of the social and political processes under study (see Szasz, 1994: 57). From this perspective it becomes decisive to include also those visual dimensions that, starting from late modernity, have imposed themselves as “qualitative novelties” and as constitutive elements of the creation of meaning in social and political communication. It is about recognizing the peculiarity and the unknown character of a process that is built more on images than on words or, at least, on the interaction between the two.

Finally, criminologists Jeff Ferrell, Keith Hayward and Jock Young (2008: 184) remind us that the everyday experience of late modernity is suffused with images and, specifically, with images of crime. They also wonder: “How, today, can there be a viable criminology that is not also a visual criminology?”. In this sense, we have taken advantage of a criminological approach that, in recent years, has proved susceptible to the use of images and of visual dimensions to investigate some objects of criminological research: the so called “visual criminology” (Hayward 2009; Greek 2009; Hayward & Presdee 2010; Natali 2010). This is a criminological approach that studies the use of visual materials, photography, videos and new media to explore the complex dimensions of crime and justice, particularly appropriate also in the territory of green criminology (see also Ferrell 2013: 360)13.

It is along these lines, that we will explore the visual dimensions of an environmental conflict through an analysis of some specific forms of “online” communication and communities considered as new interactive spaces (See also Robinson & Schulz 2009: 692). Examining how some video users interact via text 13

Regarding ethics and reflexivity in conducting visual research see Wiles, Clark & Prosser (2011) e Rowe (2011).


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and comments on a social network, we will show how they define and fight for the meaning of a video posted on the web, defending the image of themselves and of the “NO TAV” movement they want to present. This video represents a chance to highlight how important it is for green criminology to take into consideration the mediated dimension that in our late-modern society is now part of the “intrinsic nature” of the conflict.

5. Towards A New Methodological Sensibility: Symbolic Interactionism And New Media Our basic assumption will be the following: it is definitely when a conflict arises (a socio-environmental one in our case) and when it also manifests itself in its media “staging”, that the various dynamics that constitute social interaction come to light in all their dramatic complexity, compelling us to reflect more deeply – and from new perspectives – upon ideas often taken for granted.

The theoretical perspective we will use to explore this assumption can be traced to that line of thought known as “symbolic interactionism” 14. One of the basic tenets of symbolic interactionism is that reality, as we perceive and conceive it, is a social process, an unending dynamic relationship between subjects and objects, and the Self is the “control room” that keeps this relationship together (see Mead 1963; Blumer 1969; Athens 1994; Ceretti-Natali 2009).

Even though there remains a lack of symbolic interactionist literature dealing explicitly with the symbolic interactions of individuals who communicate through 14

Symbolic interactionism is certainly close to cultural criminology, which also includes ethnographic research intended to develop a form of criminological verstehen capable of exploring the universes of sense and the emotional processes related to crime and its control (Ferrell, 2001: 75).


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the mediation of the computer, internet and social network (see also Altheide 2010), we believe that this perspective may enable us to look in a new way at how the interpretative process organizes itself, linking the social actor’s self to the online and offline communities and institutional order. “The basic idea is that activities and meanings can change or be revised due to information technologies, communication media, and new formats” (Altheide 2010: 48). Already in 1985 in No Sense of Place, adopting George Herbert Mead’s perspective, Joshua Meyrowitz claimed that “electronic media alter one’s ‘generalized other’ – the general sense of how other people think and evaluate one’s action” (Meyrowitz 1985: 131, quoted in Barnes 2002; see also Altheide 2010: 48). This, obviously, is even more important today. In that sense a symbolic interaction perspective can be used to better understand how people present themselves to others through the internet (computer-mediated communication) and how media environments influence the ways in which people understand messages, taking into account that this presentation of the self through the internet incorporates characteristics of both face-to-face and mediated communication environments (Barnes 2002).

David L. Altheide (2010: 46) poses some important questions for this new symbolic interactionist horizon: “I believe that the most important starting point for symbolic interactionists and all of sociology is the process of defining the situation. Power is the ability to define the situation for self and others. I would like to extend this claim to examine a common feature of our global interactionist challenge: How does mediated communication contribute to social order and social power, and perhaps most importantly for our purposes, what challenges does mediated communication pose for symbolic interaction theory and research?”


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Answering this question requires expanding the existing symbolic interaction perspective to include how symbolic interactions represented and produced in social media are defined and negotiated through social interactions and vice versa. It also means exploring how offline interactions may generate significant interactions in the online world and how this transformation might in turn contribute to re-defining the interactions of the offline world. The social saliency of new social media (e.g. Facebook) compels the interactionist perspective to confront the processes and effects of mediated communication (online) when studying social interactions of everyday life, as in the case of a socio-environmental conflict.

6. The Place Of Qualitative Observation: A Methodological Premise In the following section we will analyze the video of a verbal confrontation between a “NO TAV” activist and an anti-riot policeman – a video we consider extremely significant in the “battle of the videos” between “NO TAV” environmental protesters and law enforcement officers for the number of questions it raises. After a symbolic interactionist reading of the gestures, the words and the attitudes displayed by the two actors involved in the conflicting situation represented in the video, we will attempt to re-examine what has happened starting from the point of view of a specific online “community”: comments made by the users of the “NO TAV” movement’s Facebook page. Today, social networks, such as Facebook are involved in many socio-environmental conflicts. By accessing this site of observation, we have an opportunity to explore some of the meanings attached to the video interaction starting from a position close to that chosen by “NO TAV”.

In remaining coherent with symbolic interactionist methodology, we will not try to quantify or categorize the interpretations that emerge. Instead, we will restrict ourselves to highlighting the importance of the narrations that inevitably occur in


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socio-environmental conflicts, especially when some of the social processes tend to flatten out the interpretative dimension of the act to simply condemn it, taking it out of context and abstracting it from the story of the conflict15. In that sense, one of the objectives of this study is to promote a possible critical reflexivity with respect to the explanations proposed by the pervasive media, typical of contemporary society.

Here, the internet can be appreciated as a rich source of qualitative data open to investigation (see Chalfen 2011; Pauwels 2011; Mutti 2008; Wagner 2011: 73). In particular, the Facebook page of the “NO TAV” movement reflects a “virtual community”. As Elisabetta Risi (2006) points out, virtual communities are a place where the social actors interact with each other leaving a trace of themselves and of their Self through the words typed within a space on the web. For example, many groups and discussions maintain over a period of time the archives of the “posted”. messages. In this way, virtual communities can be understood as real places of symbolic interaction and meaning production where it is possible to study contemporary social processes. From a symbolic interactionist perspective, they constitute peculiar contexts to express the self and the interpretative processes of the reality where we live (see also Altheide 2011). Gaining access to the on-line conversations of the “NO TAV” movement’s virtual community was not difficult as they are available on their Facebook page. In this specific case, the researcher acted simply as a “lurker” (see Risi 2006), one who accesses a chat, a forum or other

15

As for the possibility of generalizing, or not, from the results we have come to in relation to a single case, Rob White and Diane Heckenberg (2013: 96) recall the idea of “naturalistic generalization”, a notion – introduced by Deborah Trumbull and Robert Staked – that refers to the specific knowledge reached by the reader of a single case study. Sherry Melrose (2009) describes such ideas as the process through which the reader of the case study gains insight reflecting on the specific profiles of that case, recognizing similarities that resonate with her/his experience: “Unlike objective scientific generalization, naturalistic generalization generates possibilities for transferring knowledge more privately from subjective accounts such as case studies or stories” (Melrose 2009).


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“virtual community”, only reading the messages and conversations on-line without participating.

In this phase, the study will limit itself to deepening some profiles significant for “eco-global” and “green cultural” criminology, staying attuned to the “digital world” and suggesting some possible routes of investigation. Nevertheless, an encounter with computer mediated and visual communication still represents a new horizon for criminological research and the exploration of “virtual communities” itself implies a re-thinking of the research method. 7. The “Face To Face” Encounter Shown in the Video

A frame of the video from “Corriere tv” in which an activist of the movement “NO TAV” taunts a policeman16

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Source http://video.corriere.it/faccia-faccia/32640a12-621c-11e1-9e7f-339fb1d47269 (8th May 2013).


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The video shows a “NO TAV” protester who taunts a policeman in anti-riot gear, providing a plot whose characters appear to separate without doubt into “goodies” and “baddies” and that tends to dramatize and make a spectacle of the conflict represented. What follows is the monologue addressed by the activist to the policeman who, dressed in anti-riot gear, remains silent throughout the video: “Little sheep! What a little sheep you are…don’t you have a number? A name, a surname, nothing, isn’t it true? Do you know you are an illegal? You should have an identification number! This way I don’t know who you are, and you know who I am. Isn’t that true, little sheep? Isn’t it true, little sheep? You’re tough, aren’t you?…Can you also shoot? Can you shoot? I’d like to see you shoot …Anyway, you are a lovely little sheep, do you know? boy …Anyway for what you get it’s not worth it Do you also kiss you girlfriend with that mask on? You can pass on diseases without it… good boy, good Have you enjoyed yourselves? … The construction site will go on for twenty years … And we really enjoy ourselves watching you assholes! You can’t disguise yourself, you know that? Because I don’t know who you are. You should make yourself known, you are a policeman”. Turning to the cameraman: “Shoot, shoot … I do have a name and surname”. The activist taunts the policeman by addressing him by the derogatory “little sheep”, challenging him. It is a personal challenge (“Do you also kiss your girlfriend with that mask on?) and at the same time a symbolic attack against the established order – the State – which he stands for. Both the physical domination (“you’re tough, aren’t you?”) and the institutional domination (“do you know you are an illegal?) are


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challenged through a violent provocation on the level of a “face to face” symbolic exchange. In the course of this process of self representation – taking place simultaneously on an individual, social and political level – the themes of the mask – the helmet the policeman wears – that hinders the chance of recognition and the theme of exposition to transparency represented by the cameras noted by both the protagonists of the interaction, assumes explicit relevance. The activist makes clear in words the important presence of the camera: “Shoot! Shoot! So… I have a name and a surname”. This underlines an irreconcilable difference between himself and the policeman unidentifiable and by him for this reason defined “illegal”.

The majority of the mass media started to circulate interpretations of the event that reduced the complexity of the conflict to the word “violence” or to expressions such as “challenge to legality”, exploiting the evidence of the images and the “recording” of the truth of the “facts”, stating that those few frames were enough to understand without doubt “on whose side to be” (right or wrong, goodies or baddies).

8. Exploring The Ways Actors Interpret The Images But, as we well know from studies on visual dimensions, an image or a series of images never tell the whole story, even when, as in the case of above video, they contain words as well as images. As Barthes reminds us (2000: 100), “Such is the photograph: it cannot say what it lets us see”. This claim can be also extended to the video, enabling us to say: such is the video, “it cannot say what it lets us see and hear”. A video is also still too “silent” without an exploration of the interpretations of the people who have seen it. Therefore, to render such images more eloquent,


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further research needs to be undertaken (see also Knoblauch H & Tuma R. 2011: 426-427).

The recognition of the polysemy of the image (Parmeggiani 2006: 35; Harper 2002: 15; Lapenta 2011: 203) suggests to us the need to focus on the interactive process of co-construction and re-negotiation of the meaning of the image among the possible observers, a process during which every single sequence of the video acquires a significance that is the result of the active and reflexive interpretation of the social actor watching it. It is in this fertile ground that the symbolical interpretations of the observers make clear what that “social object”17 signifies for them. We as researchers are the ones who are reading meanings in their worlds but they – the observers – are the ones telling us where to read (See also Harcourt 2006: 121).

Consequently, on the basis of the idea that the possible meaning of images resides in the ways social actors interpret those images, rather than in some inherent property of the images themselves (Stanczak 2007: 11), we have to turn to the spectators/actors (users) of the video to explore the manifold meanings that derive from its broadcast. The actors we will consider are the “NO TAV” movement’s Facebook page users.

The expression “social objects” refers directly to the symbolic interactionist tradition that informs our approach (See Mead 1963; Blumer 1969). 17


Source: Facebook page of “No TAV” movement

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9. Comments On The Facebook Page Of “NO TAV” Interpreting The Conflicting Situation As a result of the new function “diary” available on Facebook since 2012, it has been possible to track back along a timeline to the days following the confrontation shown in the video and to read the comments left by “NO TAV” Facebook page users. The first comment highlights the harm of such a gesture for the “NO TAV” movement (“it was like kicking the ball in your own goal. ENORMOUS! These people can ONLY DO HARM”) is followed by others that enrich and make more interesting the variegated interpretative universe generated by the video broadcast. Let us try to identify some significant themes emerging from a qualitative analysis of the comments shown on the Facebook page in response to the video.

9.1 The definition of the meaning of the interaction represented: a violent act? Some participants underline the fact that the protester’s provocation is merely verbal (“without violence, just with words …well done, …”; “they are stigmatized if they take the piss. Write a manual for a technical and sober protester”) using also arguments that employ a language that deals with the possible legal and penal consequences of that behaviour (“for insulting ‘public officials’, there is the penal code … if it was so serious, it would have been enough to fine him or criminally prosecute him …”). The activist’s behaviour is juxtaposed with that of the policemen, who may be inclined to go from a violent “face to face” to a physical engagement: “NO TAV people are coshed, insulted and dragged to the police station and someone is indignant because of what he said? They are out of their tiny minds. Perhaps he has never been on our side of the barricade. As for me, every time I have been dragged away by a pig, my dignity has been trampled upon …”. With reference to the fact that the policemen do not have a visible identification number


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and have their own faces hidden by the helmet they wear, another commentator writes: “… it is not right that a law enforcement officer is unidentifiable, above all after so many episodes of real abuse …”.

At the centre of this kind of comment are issues related to what can be considered “violence” and what is not, what is “illegal” and what cannot be judged as such, the experience of violence suffered and the disparity of the strength between the two protagonists, also in reference to other videos showing violence carried out by the police. However, what remains prevalent is the idea that the “violence of the image” is stronger than the “image of the violence” exhibited by the protester.

9.2 The selectivity and partiality of the video: new media versus traditional media From the purview of the mass media, the evidence tied to the image is often used as irrefutable proof of the truth of an event, in spite of the complex activity of selection, construction and editing that is behind that image and that video. As is well known from scientific literature (see also Meyrowitz 1985), representation always entails a process of translation and selection and therefore what is represented is always one step removed from what “really” happened. In this respect, other commentators underlined the selectivity and partiality of the video with respect to the real practices that happen between activists and law enforcement officers (“IT IS ONLY A PITY ONE CANNOT SEE WHAT THEY DO TO HIM AT THE STATION…”; “let’s ask the Corriere for the complete video”; or again “Extracting the part that ‘is useful’ for disinformation to illustrate a thesis is a classical ploy to turn us all into little sheep. The only remedy is to have your brain switched on and to look for true information”).


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A point that is strongly remarked upon is the greater freedom of social networks and new media compared to that of traditional media (TV, newspapers) which, on the contrary, respond to the diktats imposed by political and economic powers: “I did not hear a single comment on TV emphasizing the first part of the conversation, the fact that the policemen do not have any ID on their uniform and so can allow themselves any abuses in the total security of anonymity …”. The newspaper reports themselves – also in their online format – would tend to reduce the complexity and ambiguity of the social clashes to a dichotomous and simplified contraposition between “goodies” and “baddies” as protagonists of the story to present to readers or viewers: “… the media show ONLY what they want to show … we all know how it works, they wanted to show a heroic policeman and a “NO TAV” provocateur … unfortunately many will fall for those well planned tricks!”. Or again: “the media criminalization of this innocent person reminds me of the fable of the wolf and the lamb drinking water at the spring. Any excuse is valid to denigrate a just cause”.

9.3 The significant presence of the TV camera Other voices focus attention back on the presence of the TV camera in that context: “Given the situation and the TV cameras it would have been better if he had kept quiet”; “…let’s tell it all…they (the policemen) did not react only because there was a big camera right in their faces… because the internet is full of videos where they cosh people with their hands up… but the media do not say a damn! No, that is normal… it is better not to show that…”. This is an extremely relevant point for the questions we are discussing: the fact that one or more TV cameras were filming the scene constitutes a variable capable of altering significantly the reach of what is happening in that moment and in that place between the activist and the policeman, a variable – says the commentator – that the activist should have taken into account in the interest of the movement “NO TAV”. The peculiar effect that the presence of


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the TV camera places upon the social interaction, and upon the interpretation of the situation, consists in a real transformation of the confrontation between the two into the mediated representation of that confrontation, representation that each of the participants tries to interpret to defend his self image and of that of the group he belongs to or represents (“NO TAV” or law enforcers) (see also Altheide 2011: 49). This passage adds a further level of complexity constituted by the complex “reality/fiction” or “reality/representation” always activated when the process of mediated communication comes into play, especially one that also utilizes visual narrations. In this manner, the staging becomes as decisive as the reality of the conflict.

9.4 The disparity of power in the image of the conflict A further element strongly affirmed is the disproportion in power between the two participants, a disparity that fully shows itself in the very image of the interaction, as noted by some commentators: “the asymmetry between an armoured and armed Robocop and a protester fully exposed and unarmed is so strong that I really do not understand why some beautiful soul is worried by the epithet “little sheep”. What, we now can’t even taunt the agents of repression???”. Beside this interpretation it is also necessary to consider that the dimension of the image – where the superordinate role (Athens 2010: 341-342) exhibited by the policeman in anti-riot gear is visually evident in the social act represented – tends to fade under the weight of the protester’s words. Besides, the silence of the policeman, in fact, can only enlarge and put centre stage the role of the activist who, as underlined in some comments, risks being turned into the scapegoat of the conflict situation: “it’s easy to snipe at a person who, seeing his rights trampled upon for years, goes to speak to another in full war gear…defining him a little sheep… “. As another commentator points out: “we already start at a disadvantage: “NO TAV” against policemen (there is no need


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for an explanation) then if one also takes away insults (if it can be defined insult…I do not think he was being insulting; he was talking to a mute …) how the fuck can one protest???”.

9.5 The continuity between the on-line and off-line community Some comments disapproving of the activist’s behaviour are criticized to such an extent that their author at one point announces: “Excuse me now but I am going to the square to join the protesters… Without calling the policemen little sheep”. This phrase establishes an important bridge between the online and offline community that is protesting: the two realities then are not lived as dichotomous or separate, but in close connection, together communicating and constructing reality and meanings attributed to it (see also Robinson & Schulz 2009: 692). The flow of comments from the online community written in the days following the video being broadcast on the internet concludes with an invitation to keep alive the continuity between on-line reality (in this case represented by the conversation initiated on the Facebook page) and off-line reality (Val di Susa). Indeed, the crew of a well-known television programme arrives in Val di Susa and the activist takes part to explain his gesture: “Somebody go to defend him tonight on Servizio Pubblico” the correspondent is in the valley…”; “well done… brave man”, concludes a participant on the Facebook page.

10. The Meaning Of The Gesture Explained By The Actor On The Media Stage The video starts to circulate on the internet and becomes a symbol of the bitterness of the conflict on the “NO TAV” theme, provoking contrasting and often dichotomous reactions. On Twitter the term “little sheep” used by the protester against the policeman becomes a “trending topic”, used to re-dimension the happening and bring the focus back to the larger “TAV” question rather than on a


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specific episode. The moral and ethical dimension concerning social network discourses and the web is a very relevant but still emerging issue. As Italian writer and journalist Roberto Saviano (2013) remarks, every context has its own language, and that used in social networks is a very distinctive one. The peculiarity of this language consists in the fact that it is at the same time confidential and public, instantly reproduced and multiplied across time and space. So, the question is not to ban a certain form of language, but to develop reflexivity about the importance that a language has in the construction of our thoughts and actions, in the context of a common but multiple world. “The way we speak, the things we say, and above all how we express them, the words we use, will render the world we live in very similar to the world connected to our words” (Saviano 2013). In this sense, a discourse on democracy and on its possible relations with social network communication is a crucial and inescapable question18. “We are all media performers in an age of mediated communication” (Altheide 2010: 51) – as symbolic interactionist Altheide remarks. The resonance of the video becomes such that the protester is invited to a TV broadcast (“Servizio Pubblico”)19, during which a journalist asks him to explain that gesture. He recounts the thoughts and the emotions that accompanied his act and the way he has interpreted the situation: “Here it seems that things have changed so rapidly. We have always lived here and we have carried on this fight for a long time. My gesture is one I make – I can say it – often, because when we do the blockades, when the augers arrive… we have been doing these things for ten years… it’s my way of mastering my fear, when I find myself faced by hundreds and hundreds of policemen armed to the teeth and we are 10, 15 even 100 and are sitting on the ground with our hands up, trying to reason with these people…” And then he adds: 18 19

See also Susan D. Moeller (2008). Available at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qbeWPXjwsP0 ( 8th May 2013).


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“to master my fear let’s say… I am overcome by this sort of spontaneous thing… I identify myself with my hero who is Peppino Impastato and that’s why I try to be more mocking, I try…I approach the cordons and try in some way to interact with the police. Of course it’s not easy…specially yesterday I was very very very angry because one of our mates in hospital is dying… “ For the symbolic interactionist outlook we have adopted in this investigation it becomes extremely important to give weight and depth to the narrations developed by the social actor, paying particular attention to his way of recounting, even in front of the cameras, the thoughts, emotions and symbolic references that were part of the “reflexive” process (Mead 1963; Athens 1994) that underlay his words and his challenging attitude during the interaction with the policeman. Within a symbolic interactionist perspective, “what we say to ourselves” represents “what we are ready to do”, referring in this sense to the “practical content” of the meanings we shape towards what symbolic interactionists call “social objects”. In this case, one of the most significant “social objects” is represented by the territory fought over, and the practical content of this “object” marks how far and how seriously we are ready to protect/defend it. This is a vision of the person that exalts the narrative aspect and the incessant re-describing process through which each of us weaves the weft of our life and our actions.20 Depending on the individual case, these multiple narrations can dramatically draw us nearer to or further away from the “others”.

In the case in question, let us see how the activist interprets the situation in which he found himself. What is initially described as a spontaneous gesture is immediately

A central role in the composition of the narrative plot of everyone is carried out by the so-called “phantom community” (Athens 1994). If it is true that for Mead – the founding father of Symbolic Interactionism – the main interlocutor with the Self remains the Me – the generalized voice of the entire community adopted in the course of social interactions –, the criminologist Lonnie Athens (1994), on the contrary, assigns this role to the “phantom community”, that audience of real or imaginary people whose conceptions we normally take for granted. 20


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re-defined as “orientated” (“I identify myself with”) by an “internalized other” (Mead 1963; Athens 1994): Peppino Impastato, a person symbolizing the fight against the Mafia in Italian history. Here, the likelihood or the exploitation of this juxtaposition is not as important as the meaning that the protester attributes to this reference to strengthen the image of himself and of the “NO TAV” movement in front of the public, i.e. rebelling against an injustice perpetrated by corrupt actors. He continues: “The concept could also be different but here in Val di Susa we have seen, and also in other situations in Italy, the businesses that carry out these works are not really clean, however…”.

During a later interview, this time on the radio, the protester adds further details that help to understand his gesture: “That day I was very, very angry. Mine was an angry gesture. The word “little sheep” was born let’s say from the context, where you see these people all alike, all identical, all in harness…a little as they see us…we can also look like a flock of sheep…I committed this gesture neither with the malice nor with the hatred attributed to me… it was a gesture exasperated by the situation…the situation was a particular one: we saw, coming against us, thousands of people armed to the teeth, we sat down and had a little feast to erase that fear that was in our hearts. …I thought that the cameras of the press were aimed at the most serious act, the blockade…and I saw the police camera, and so as it was something we were used to, I spoke anyway…”. A symbolic interactionist perspective applied to this event can help us to realize that the actions and the emotional responses (fear, anger, a sense of injustice, etc.) accompanying many experiences of conflict can be more deeply understood if we can penetrate the symbolic spheres and the social meanings that the social actors traverse when they gain experience of the places they inhabit, in the unavoidable


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mingling of on-line reality and off-line reality (see also Pauwels 2011: 571-572), and in their constant mise-en-scène as well. As we have already anticipated rereading the comments on Facebook, the fact that one or more cameras were filming is a significant dimension to include in the analysis in this interaction. Here, it is the actor of the interpretation himself who recognizes the relevance, in the reflexive process through which he was interpreting the situation, of the moment when he notices the camera. At this point, the staging – also from the protester’s perspective – becomes crucial in communicating the reality of the conflict.

11. Towards A Conclusion By crossing the interdisciplinary fields sketched in this contribution, we have tried to suggest that exploring ways of seeing and interpreting socio-environmental conflicts, together with their mediated representation, becomes decisive also for the branch of criminology that deals with environmental crimes – both for an “ecoglobal” (White 2011; 2013) and “a green-cultural” perspective (Brisman & South 2013). Also, in the field of “green criminology” it is important to imagine new qualitative methods for tackling the issues of crime and justice, moving towards approaches capable of dealing with environmental crime, transgression and victimization as they are experienced in contemporary circumstances, where the visual and virtual dimensions play a relevant role (see also Heckenberg & White 2013; Ferrell, Hayward, Young 2008)

We have also stressed the fact that a symbolic interactionist perspective can help us to carry out a qualitative investigation of the actions and emotional responses accompanying many experiences of environmental conflict, in the complex interaction of on-line reality and off-line reality. As Joshua Meyrowitz has remarked, television and electronic media in general have changed the significance


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of physical presence in experiencing social events: if once “live” communications and “mediated” communications were very different from each other, today this difference is much reduced (see Meyrowitz 1985). In particular, we have suggested that exploring the modalities and the narratives21 with which environmental activists support their methods of resistance through new social media such as Facebook represents an interesting site for observation. It allows us to see closely an uninterrupted interpretative process of re-definition and re-negotiation of meaning which each activist is continually immersed in and exposed to. As symbolic interactionist scholar Kathy Charmaz writes: “Our ideas change and develop when we study our participants’ worlds from inside” (Charmaz 2010: 19). Furthermore, in describing qualitatively the interactions and significant acts undertaken by environmental activists and actors in a digital society means necessarily taking into account the representation and staging with which certain forms of interaction return to their authors, contributing in this way to the redefinition of their image. In our case, that single video comes back to its author and compels him to explain his gesture, focusing on its meaning and the consequences of its meaning, constructing his story. As has been suggested, it seems extremely important, also in future criminological research on green issues, to explore how offline interactions may generate significant interactions in the online world and how this transformation might in turn contribute to further re-defining the interactions of the offline world.

As regards media communication the sociologist Carmen Belloni (2002: 146) stresses that “we have to come to terms with an extreme uncertainty, to which 21

For a theoretical and methodological frame on the analysis of narratives see also Cosgrove & McHugh 2008; Gubrium J.F. & Holstein J.A. 2008).


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however we will be more and more exposed, that derives both from the impossibility of availing ourselves of definitive interpretations and from the unceasing transformation of the communication instruments themselves”. It is an uncertainty that is in close relation to the ambiguity – that same ambiguity we mentioned about Barthes’ thoughts on photography – that characterizes the visual communication of our day and that we can confront only through “complex skills, not only of a technical nature, but also, and perhaps above all, of a reflexive nature” (Belloni 2002: 146). It is indeed this reflexive dimension that a symbolic interactionist approach may bring added value through highlighting and developing.

Within the limited space provided by a short visual broadcast we have tried to observe the complex visual and interpretative dimensions involved in the representation and mediated communication of a single, but significant, episode created out of the context of a socio-environmental conflict. As we have seen, the “staging” of the conflict in its most theatrical and spectacular aspects, as a confrontation between duelists who follow different rules and use different “weapons”, can have the effect of dramatically simplifying the conflict and its history, thereby concealing the inability to control the situation at a political level. In isolating the interaction from the context and history of “NO TAV” resistance means to “cut away”, to sever from sight and thinking everything that escapes from the “frame” and the “time-line” of the video, reducing the phenomenon to a mere question of public order, when instead, it is primarily a question of democracy and of social and environmental justice. Using reflexive and qualitative methods to explore ways of participation and of mediated representation of the socioenvironmental processes that imply a transformation of the territory remind us that social-environmental conflicts and local resistance to environment deterioration retain their significance also as exercises of civil disobedience when the laws and


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those who govern do not respect the principles of democracy and participation that should infuse any process of transformation of a territory and its environment (see also Viale 2011: 132).

To conclude, as Ferrell (2013: 350-351) suggests, one of the objectives common to both cultural criminology and green criminology may be that of “reviving” the criminological imagination, situating the personal within social and historical dimensions, the local within the global, but, above all, re-considering – that is, imagining again – the criminological issues of our times and the different instruments of analysis. In this way the criminologist will be able to exercise his ability to “marvel” anew about his object of study, this being essential to any fruitful theoretical elaboration able to promote the discovery of “the momentous in the momentary” (Ferrell, 2013: 360), a goal we have tried to achieve in this brief analysis of the video under investigation.


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3. ‘Technological Drift and Green Machines: A Cultural Analysis of the Prius Paradox’ Stephanie C. Kane, Department of Criminal Justice, Indiana University ([email protected]) Avi Brisman, School of Justice Studies, Eastern Kentucky University ([email protected])

Abstract:

The new technologies we use to mitigate environmental harm can, in practice, produce unintended consequences—other or additional environmental harms. Indeed, various environmentally friendly products and systems can create negative environmental and human health impacts that we do not necessarily factor into our (collective) calculus. We build on Winner’s (1977) concept of technological drift to refer to the way humans invent and use new devices and systems without sufficient thought for or ability to control the unpredictable effects that radiate outward through cultures and environments. Discussing the case of hybrid electric vehicles (“HEVs”), which contain rare earth elements (“REEs”) or rare earth metals (“REMs”), we explore the political and legal possibilities of controlling harms at the interface of technology-based infrastructures and ecological habitats. Analyzing parameters of cause and culpability related to toxic events and processes, we aim to advance development of a green criminology more sensitive to cultural processes shaping technological change.

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Keywords: green criminology; hybrid electric vehicles (HEVs); infrastructure; pollution; rare earth elements (REEs)/rare earth metals (REMs); technological drift

It is not at all clear yet how criminology will incorporate a consideration of the Anthropocene into the field—“the era when humans first began to have a marked effect on the Earth’s climate and ecosystem” (Hulme, 2009:289; see also Brisman, 2011a). The complexity and intellectual reach needed to empirically grasp and theoretically articulate the effects of technology-based infrastructures on societies and ecologies stagger our imagination and methods. Arguably, contemporary human lives and livelihoods are enhanced through processes that harm the air, water, and the Earth as a whole, including ourselves and our fellow living creatures, threatening long-term survival.

For example, few would

disagree that advances in the technology of the internal combustion engine (ICE) have made convenient “on-demand” transportation available for millions (if not billions) of people, thereby increasing their mobility and independence—not to mention the additional benefits of job and wealth creation of automobile production and maintenance. But the costs of widespread and encompassing automobile use are significant—e.g., the building and maintenance of more and more roads, which disrupt and destroy landscapes, the pollution generated by the combustion of fossil fuels—and become more pronounced with radically superfluous and perverse vehicles, such as Hummers (see Brisman, 2004, 2009), and “sporting events,” such as Formula One and NASCAR.

Realizing environmental sustainability requires a shift away from binary thinking (nature and culture are separate) and towards the dynamic space between, i.e., where mutual constitution of nature and culture occurs (Latour,

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2004). This inevitably entails the development, production and marketing of eco-savvy engineering fully incentivized by twenty-first-century capitalism— hence, hybrid electric and gas batteries. Socially just and ecologically sound transformations will require counterwork by intentional voices from diverse places and subjectivities (Escobar, 2008: 180-185)—from communities fighting for breathable air to the halls of academic inter-disciplines. We address the problem of paradoxical green machines in order to disrupt complacent thinking about technology-based infrastructure that while demonstrating specific environmental improvement, continue to transport toxic flows across urban, rural and continental divides.

In this context, we advance the goals of green criminology by contributing to the development of a more capacious notion of environmental harm and crime and with it those responsible (South et al., 2013). While green criminology has devoted significant attention to environmental crimes and harms that are facilitated by the state, as well as by corporations and other powerful actors (see White 2011, 2012; see also Kramer and Michalowski, 2012), it has dedicated comparatively less thought to how individual- or micro-level actions, behaviors, and practices combine at infrastructural scales to adversely affect the environment (cf. Agnew, 2013; Groombridge, 2013).

Moreover, green

criminology has been virtually reticent when it comes to those activities, behaviors and practices with negative or degrading impacts undertaken with environmentally beneficial intentions. Winner’s (1977) concept of technological drift provides an apt frame for exploring the paradox of green machines. The concept refers to the ways that humans invent and use new devices and systems with insufficient thought for or

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ability to control the unpredictable effects that radiate outward through cultures and environments. Identifying the fuzzy space of ordinary, shared, unarticulated harms that falls between the truly unintentional and the provable fraudulent1— the implicated and concerned, the anxious norm—we focus on hybrid electric vehicles (“HEVs”).2 These contain rare earth elements (“REEs”) or rare earth metals (“REMs”)—technologies that are key to global efforts to switch to cleaner energy, but whose extraction and processing causes environmental damage. Our reliance on paradoxical green machines is part of technologically advanced habitus: engineers design and consumers choose technological devices shaped by structures—and infrastructures—predisposed to function durably in ever-changing contexts. As a dimension of production and consumption patterns, twenty-first century technological habitus may be subject to objective regulation without anyone consciously making or following rules (cf. Bourdieu, 1977:72). In other words, the relatively undiscussed harms of HEVs arise out of the realm of the “unthought known” (Bollas, 2008:19 reinterpreted by Rubenstein, 2010:9).3 As Kane (2012: 58) finds in her ethnographic study of urban water ecology: “Without an active sympathy between informal repertories of habitus and formal codes in environmental law, transforming our more criminal relationships with nature will be quite impossible.”

We suggest that a commitment to environmental and ecological justice must entail closer scrutiny of the negative consequences of technologies that, at first blush, appear panacean. After a brief synopsis of criminological definitions and typologies, we begin by asking two general questions: When does it seem feasible to label some people and organizations suspects or perpetrators and when does it not?

Where do the limits of a crime and law approach to

environmental destruction link or give way to one that activates social change as

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essential precursor or accompaniment? We approach these questions by identifying three basic cultural parameters related to causality and culpability in the arena of environmental law and crime: source, agency, intentionality. We follow this cultural template for green criminological analysis with a section that characterizes the “Prius paradox” in more detail, before ending with a call for a kind of scholarship attuned to this historical moment in which hybrid cars are not yet banal. Reducing carbon by driving hybrid vehicles while continuing to poison in other ways and in other places may be doing as much harm as good. People who try to grapple with their personal ecological footprints are allowing themselves to be fooled by easy solutions.

Definitions and Typological Precedents from the Study of Environmental Crime and Harm Clifford and Edwards (2012:111-117) offer a series of evolving definitions of environmental crime and harm as legal concepts. While a technical definition of environmental crime “is any act that violates an environmental protection statute,” we find their amplified philosophical definition of environmental harm, which includes military and other government operations, more amenable to cultural analysis of the paradox of green machines: “an act committed with the intent to harm or with a potential to cause harm to ecological and/or biological systems and for the purpose of securing business, political, and or personal advantage” (Clifford and Edwards, 2012:115). Within this broad definition, various typologies have been offered to organize our understanding of environmental crimes and harms (e.g., Brisman and South, 2013; South et al., 2013).

For example, one might draw a distinction between primary and

secondary green crimes, with the former “resulting directly from the destruction and degradation of the Earth’s resources,” such as crimes of air pollution, crimes

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of deforestation, crimes against animals, and crimes of water pollution, and the latter arising from “the exploitation of conditions that follow environmental damage or crisis (e.g., illegal markets for food, medicine, water) and/or from the violation of rules that attempt to regulate environmental harm and to respond to disaster” (South et al., 2013:29). White (2008:98-99), to offer another example, has developed a threefold typology of “brown,” “green,” and “white” issues, whereby “brown” issues are defined in terms of urban life and pollution (e.g., air pollution, disposal of hazardous and toxic waste, oil spills, stormwater pollution), “green issues” pertain to conservation matters and “wilderness” areas (e.g., acid rain, depletion of the ozone layer, land use and habitat destruction, logging practices), and “white” issues refer to the impact of various laboratory practices and new technologies [e.g., animal testing and experimentation; cloning of human tissue; environmentally-related communicable diseases; genetically modified organisms (GMOs); in-vitro processes; pathological indoor environments].

While these categorizations and others (see, e.g., Lynch and Stretesky, 2011; White, 2010) are important—because the way we identify and organize clusters of issues and problems can help shape research agendas, governmental and other institutional policies, and practical projects—they frequently center on the recipient/victim, locus, or geographic scope of the harm.

Here we hover

somewhere over primary and secondary “green” crimes with a focus on new technology or “white” issues. Along with Nordstrom (2007:21), however, at least one of us admits to some unease with the reliance on a classificatory approach to the “il/legal.” Although academically useful, these typologies may mislead by suggesting that “[t]he world acts according to the categories;” that “[t]he sum total of these discrete analyses adds up to an encompassing reality;”

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and that “[t]here is a discernible line between legal and illegal, between acceptable and illicit, between legal development and criminal intent” (Nordstrom 2007:21). Rather than typologize what kind of harm is occurring as we technologize, we offer parameters of analysis that researchers can use to identify and delineate why harm is happening; the degree to which it is conscious, intended and voluntary; and how the why of the harm relates to a general cultural sense of culpability. To what extent does a sense that a person or group should be blamed for environmental harm emerge from the public imagination and how long does it persist? When is the public impulse to punish polluters sufficient to trigger legislation and enforcement?

Parameters of Cause and Culpability We pose a set of intentionally slippery contrasts between two modes of environmental destruction: on the one hand, events that seem distinctly amenable to legislation and prosecution, and, on the other hand, the more mundane, culturally embedded practices that do not. The former is more likely to be labeled environmental crime, the latter, to be labeled environmental harm, or more often, not to be labeled at all. We propose three causal parameters that affect cultural impulse to assign culpability for negative environmental events or processes: (1) point and nonpoint source pollution; (2) agency; and (3) intention. We symbolically graph the first parameter under discussion on the x-axis against the hypothetical public sense of culpability on the y-axis (see Figures 1). The specific way in which the sense of culpability unfolds in this causal framework, as in others, would of course vary with context.

*[Point Source and Nonpoint Source Pollution Graphic can be downloaded from Crimsoc site.]

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SOURCE: Informing the sense of culpability is the spatiotemporal specificity of environmental harms—the extent to which harm emanates from one point in time and space or whether it emanates from so many points that identification is beyond the capacity of perception and law.

On the basis of ease of

identification, the distinction between point and nonpoint sources is enshrined in the United States’ Federal Water Pollution Control Act (known as the Clean Water Act or “CWA”) and triggers the application of two different enforcement standards (Clifford and Edwards, 2012:163). Even when crime, per se, is not an issue, implementing the CWA is much more difficult in cases of nonpoint source pollution (Brisman 2002:505n.1). As Karvonen (2011:9) explains:

Point source pollution is relatively easy to manage with conventional wastewater treatment strategies; nonpoint source pollution tends to elude treatment because of its dispersed, ubiquitous character as well as significantly larger volumes of wastewater requiring treatment (sometimes two orders of magnitude greater than point source volumes) and appreciably lower concentrations of contaminants.

To the legal and engineering problems confounding control of nonpoint source pollution, we add the problem of cultural interpretation, suggesting that, for example, ordinary automobile consumers would be less likely to organize their decision-making and calls for legal action when thinking about damages resulting from urban runoff as compared to an oil spill. Similarly, in the examples on the graph, blame for the 2010 Deepwater Horizon oil spill settles on three corporations: British Petroleum (BP), Transocean and Halliburton. In contrast, blame for petro-chemical road run-off is, for all practical legal purposes, infinitely dispersed in time and space. In absolute terms, we do not

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imply an equivalency of effect between these graphed examples, but rather, a way to think about the facility and difficulty of assigning blame. 4 In ecological reality, over time, the contrast loses significance, as point and nonpoint sources of pollution fold one into the other, multiplying effects. In the Gulf of Mexico, the oil gushing out of the BP well and the dispersants used to break it up throughout the spring and summer of 2010 mix with past and future agrochemical run-off from the Mississippi Delta and the petrochemicals from cars and boat engines on the roads and waterways, with long-term consequences for regional water sustainability.

The disjuncture between the level of harm and the chance of punishment emerges in part from the difficulties of framing environmental harm as event. The importance of event as a legal framing device operates across many types of crimes, mostly directed at individual bodies rather than habitats. Take rape for example, and the collegiate contrast between stranger and date rape: laws pertaining to consent aside, stranger rape is more easily framed as a prosecutable crime, while date rape is more ambiguous precisely because it is embedded in the social relationship of those involved and protected more thoroughly by patriarchal tradition (Hermann 1984, Locke et al. 2008). Extreme, intentional environmental harm is rape directed at habitat aggravated by violence against diverse individual animals and plants.5 Like rape, environmental harm can be linked rhetorically and practically with tradition in pre- and post-industrial ways of life.6 Indeed, cultural traditions epitomized by the automobile and industrial frameworks that externalize environmental costs are deeply implicated in the challenges posed by climate change, which brings us back to the Prius. 7 The pollution caused by the mining of REEs necessary for HEVs, if graphed, might move from the nonpoint source end to the point source end of the graph as

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attention shifts focus from the drivers in the U.S. whose cleaner air depends on poisoning waters of China (see below).8 Where does the fulcrum of harm balance?

AGENCY: Following Giddens (1979:55) we use the concept of agency to refer not to “a series of discrete acts combined together, but to a continuous flow of conduct…[a] stream or actual or contemplated causal intervention of corporeal beings in the ongoing process of events-in-the-world (italics in original).” In the case of HEVs, consumers who are concerned about the environment and who have enough money to do so may exercise their agency—their will to decrease pollution—by buying a Prius. In our consideration of the sense of culpability, we also draw on Latour’s (2004) Actor-Network Theory (ANT) in which objects, such as technological devices and machines, and natural forces, such as storms, can also have agency, in the sense that they, like humans, are nodes through which action creates and reproduces the historical webs of interrelationships that characterize the Anthropocene.9

Thus, the human

enactment of agency or will cannot be separated from the technologies and designs available to producers of hybrid vehicle batteries or the automobile market and roadway circuits that structure the possibilities and limitations of, on the one hand, the functional toxicity embedded in a product, and on the other hand, consumer knowledge and choice. When people extend their agency into the arena of law and crime (if for example, people discovered hidden harms embedded in products and wanted to control and punish), they do so— consciously or unconsciously—within an overarching theory of nature, culture and technology. Humans may conceptualize nature as distinct from culture and technology, or they may be more or less prone to think in terms of socio-technonatures.

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For example, we hypothetically contrast the way that nuclear actors, military and civil, exercise their agency in extreme encounters with planetary and anthropogenic forces. Thus, blame for the environmental catastrophe caused by the atomic bombing of Nagasaki during World War II falls on the U.S. government, although mitigated by the necessities of war for some. In contrast, blame for the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster is shared between human actors and the earthquake and tsunami.10 We posit that the sense of culpability intensifies as the agent impelling nuclear destruction is perceived and represented as elemental (natural) or anthropogenic (human-made). Scholars have shown that all disasters result from the logic(s) underlying human organization (Gilbert, 1998:14-15). Common sense, however, distinguishes between natural disasters—nature acting on human organization—and acts of war (see generally Fraser 2013).

Applying this approach toward agency and culpability to the case of HEVsourced REEs leads us to locate the primary agency with technical experts who share decision-making power. It is they, who by virtue of their essential role, could maintain some authority over the ultimate pattern of risks and benefits that accompany adoption of green machines—for it is the flow of technological action that condition the range of possibilities available to environmentally conscious consumers. The agency of technology consumers and users, both individually and organizationally, is thus impoverished by the lack of, and acceptance of the lack of, technical understanding and involvement in corporate decision-making.

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INTENTIONALITY: Intentionality as a process involves the reflective monitoring of conduct or agency and assumes that actors always have the opportunity to act otherwise (Giddens, 1979: 56). We draw here, too, on Perrow’s (1999) concept of “normal accidents” that refers to failures and accidents as an inevitable aspect of complex social and technological systems. If environmental harms inevitably accompany dependence on technologicallybased infrastructure, harms are unintentional. If unintentional, then persons and organizations continuing to act in the flow of and according to the logic of such systems are not held accountable or culpable. The accidental or systemic causes of environmental and bodily harm are subject to interrogation only up to a point. For example, at its most intense, the sense of culpability for the deaths of the approximately 3,000 people in the World Trade Center on the morning of 11 September 2001 falls directly upon the terrorists. Although fewer people would have died if there had been better communication between the firemen and police, their heroic intention to save people and the inadvertent, systemic causes of poor communication, make it unlikely that they would be subject to investigation or prosecution for unnecessary loss of life. Applying this to the problem of HEV pollution, leads us to consider the effects of split intentions. As consumers drift on currents engineered by the auto industry, they switch from old to new models in order to get better mileage while reducing carbon emissions. So for example, while Prius drivers may intend to exercise their agency and enact environmental consciousness by choosing this car, their agency is diminished by their uncritical engagement with the mixed intentions of the automobile industry. This leads to the contradictory effects of technological drift. To recapitulate, we show how the chance of legislation on and prosecution for environmental destruction may decrease as the sources multiply, as the extent to

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which the agents of destruction are forces of nature, and as intentionality is diffused by accident or system-failure. This takes us back to the problem of our general dependence on, and implication in, harmful environmental practices. We explore them in the context of the cultural and ecological transition to more sustainable energy infrastructures.

Toxic Displacements and Comfortable Illusions When hybrid electric vehicles (“HEVs”) first hit the U.S. market, they were considered wimpy cars for tree-huggers (Brisman, 2009:352). In a short period of time, however, their popularity skyrocketed. Writing in 2007, Micheline Maynard observed, “[t]he Prius has become, in a sense, the four-wheel equivalent of those popular rubber ‘issue bracelets' in yellow and other colors— it shows the world that its owner cares. . . . [B]uyers of the Prius want everyone to know they are driving a hybrid.” Similarly, Brendan I. Koerner, writing for the periodical Wired in 2005, explained that the “look-at-me factor” had helped make the Prius a hit: “Buy a hybrid and passersby will know that you're both hip and intelligent, not to mention part of a club that includes Leonard DiCaprio, Cameron Diaz [and other celebrities].” While it is true that HEVs, like the Prius, quickly became a “fashion statement,” such “conspicuous nonconsumption” (Brisman, 2009:353, 354) was not unfounded; hybrid vehicles were and continue to be fuel efficient—or, at least, possess greater fuel efficiency than their popular vehicular predecessor—the SUV and Hummer. While hybrids may not guzzle gasoline, their “electric motor[s] and batter[ies] guzzle rare earth metals, a little-known class of elements found in a wide range of gadgets and consumer goods” (Gorman, 2009).

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REEs or REMs are a set of seventeen metals—the fifteen lanthanides (with atomic numbers 57-71, from lanthanum through lutetium), along with scandium and yttrium, which tend to occur in the same ore deposits as the lanthanides and exhibit similar chemical properties (Alonso et al., 2012; Fogler, 2011).11 Lanthanum (atomic number 57) is a major ingredient for hybrid car batteries; neodymium (atomic number 60) is the key component of an alloy used to make the high-power, lightweight magnets for electric motors of hybrid cars, such as the Prius, Honda Insight and Ford Focus, as well as in another type of green machine—wind turbines (Chandler, 2012; Folger, 2011; Gorman, 2009; Margonelli, 2009; Tabuchi, 2010).12 Compact fluorescent lamps (CFLs) use yttrium and terbium (Bradsher, 2011; Folger, 2011). China is the main supplier of REEs—mining more than 90% of the world’s rare earths (Bradsher, 2010a, 2011; Chandler, 2012; Folger, 2011; McFadden, 2013; Memmott, 2012; Tabuchi, 2011). According to Bradsher (2010a:B1), “[r]ogue operations in southern China produce an estimated half of the world’s supply of heavy metals.” The rest are state-owned, which, as Bradsher (2010a:B1, B4) explains, “means the Chinese government’s only effective competitors in producing these valuable commodities are the crime rings within the country’s borders.” As Bradsher (2010a:B4) describes, gangs illegally mine some of the most sought-after REEs (particularly, dysprosium, terbium, and europium) and have terrorized villagers who dare to complain about the many tons of sulfuric acid and other chemicals being dumped into streambeds during the processing of ore. Illegal rare earth mining and chemical runoff have poisoned thousands of acres of prime farmland, according to the government of Guangdong Province, and have been blamed for many illnesses.” Elsewhere, Bradsher (2011:B1)

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reports: “The ease of digging up and refining some of the most valuable rare earths from the clay hills of southernmost Jiangxi Province and northernmost Guangdong Province, together with soaring prices, has led to a surge in illegal strip-mining that has turned many hillsides into lunar landscapes. Crime syndicates have dumped the mine tailings, including powerful acids and other materials, into local waterways. The fields and water supplies of peasant farmers who live downstream have been contaminated.”

While the commonly small, rural, and illegal operations are particularly prone to releasing toxic wastes into the general water supply, making the water undrinkable and killing plant life irrigated with water from local streams (Bradsher, 2010b), even the major operation in Baotou, in Inner Mongolia, which contains about 80% of China’s rare earths and where much of the world's rare earth supply is refined, has caused major environmental damage (Folger, 2011; Parry and Douglas, 2011).

As Folger (2011:145) reports: “[r]are earth mines often also contain radioactive elements, such as uranium and thorium. Villagers near Baotou reportedly have been relocated because their water and crops have been contaminated with mining wastes. Every year the mines near Baotou produce about ten million tons of wastewater, much of it either highly acidic or radioactive, and nearly all of it untreated.” According to Folger (2011:145), “[s]ome of the most environmentally benign and high-tech products turn out to have very dirty origins indeed.” While there have been increasing efforts to recycle the REEs from used electronics and to develop ferrite magnets, rather than rare earth magnets, for the motors in HEVs

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(Tabuchi, 2010),13 we are faced with a paradox—a situation in which our good faith efforts at being green—HEVs, as well as wind turbines and CLFs—have and are continuing to have negative environmental repercussions. Or, as Franz (2012:96) laments, “[t]he new mythical narrative of corporate America—the green company facilitating consumer choices that help, not hurt the environment is the latest ‘free market’ conceptualization. If we all consume the right light bulb, and drive the right vehicle, everything will be ok, and our collective guilt assuaged, even though the underlying evil of the machinery of production, consumption, and growth demand models are left intact” (internal citation omitted).14

How, then, should we understand the unintended consequences of consumer practices—and the paradoxes (presented by) our shifts in technology—in light of the framework of causality and culpability we set up earlier? Denounce those destroying landscapes and ecosystems and fouling waters with legal and illegal mining and related extraction processes? Challenge the engineers who design these new technologies and the batteries, magnets, etc. that these technologies require to operate? Criticize the manufacturers of these technologies (despite the fact that, in the context of REEs, manufacturers claim they cannot trace the “chain of harm” (Heckenberg 2010:46)—trace the REEs that they acquire back to the mines where they were originally produced and thus cannot ascertain whether the REEs that they receive have come from legal or illegal mines and the degree of environmental contamination caused by those mines)? Systematize the recycling of hybrid batteries, thereby minimizing their disposal in landfills and reducing the need to mine more REEs? Inform consumers about their need to consider (1) the degree of agency they possess or do not have (or think they enjoy or do not hold) and (2) how—and the extent to which—this agency or lack

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thereof relates to their intentions (e.g., making an environmentally friendly purchase)? Along these lines and continuing this line of questioning, when is or would legislation and/or litigation be desirable, feasible, or advisable to bring about changes in behavior (to reduce environmental degradation)?

Conclusion: Beware the Naturalization Effect Just as lines of causation radiate outwards from individual actions through individuals to small collectivities, so too is it possible to pull the camera all the way back to macroanalysis that puts in narrative view the whole of the technological infrastructure (Galison, 2000:38).

Technology can change everything, be deployed everywhere; at the same time, its use may be restricted and its contradictory effects may be invisible (Barry, 2001). Tacking back and forth across scales and decision-making domains is a critical analytic maneuver that reveals patterns of invisibility in public discourse and how patterns of invisibility facilitate an “uneven geography” of harm, raising serious questions of environmental justice (Harvey, 2006). For example, local and regional resistance to wind turbines may revolve around the aesthetic disruption of the maritime landscapes in northeastern United States (Brisman, 2005) or the decapitation of raptors migrating across the Strait of Gibraltar in Cadiz, Spain (Subramanian 2012). The politics of cleaner energy in Scotland is existentially tied to the gigantic lake of poisons created by the mining of neodymium for the magnets in Baotou, China, noted above (Parry and Douglas, 2011; see also Folger, 2011). These cases call for a thorough examination of the kinds of questions that never land on the agenda of powerful decision-making bodies and of the possibilities that are relegated to the “spheres of non-decision” (Giddens, 1979:88-9, Bachrach, 1980 in Winner, 1986:441).15 In Bourdieu’s

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(1985) terms, the unintended consequences fall into the realm of the undiscussed. Such invisibilities are part of and an effect of technological drift, which, as we shift to more macro urban and regional scales becomes the basis for “infrastructural drift” (see Kane and Medina, 2012). The politicality of the shift from one sort of technological device to another—or their changing combination and incorporation into infrastructure—may not emerge into public debate until disaster strikes and mass breakdowns make the “relational nature” of infrastructure more visible (Star, 1999:382; see also Belanger, 2010).16 Following along pathways opened by communities and scholars fighting environmental injustice (e.g., Fortun, 2001; Kane, 2012; Pezzulo, 2007), we explore the dark side of green machines.

Even as conscientious and creative folk invent a new ecological urbanism, the best efforts carry manifold risks—or, as Hunter and colleagues (2002:83) describe: “[o]ften, technology merely transfers environmental risks or creates new risks to replace those it does not eliminate. ‘Miracle technologies’ long considered safe have had unintended and serious effects on human health and the environment.” That advances in engineering and design are manufactured with environmentally degrading processes tends to hover beneath awareness and discussion. Like the Hobbesian security trade-offs associated with military and police power (see Cullen and Agnew 2011), our responses to violent crime and street crime often bring about some sense of security: think airport screenings post-9/11. Whether at the environments of globe, region or community, the search for justice in a technologizing world propels age-old questions: do benefits outweigh the

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harms? If they do, for whom and why? And when and why does harm get defined as crime? Before the various publics, communities and individuals involved are “ . . . led astray by the naturalization effect, which occurs when technical systems are completely integrated into the social fabric” (Akrich, 1992: 222), green criminologists could generate critical discussions of how to find the just balance risks and benefits of green machines. Unlike the pre-hybrid automobile, whose sociography Akrich (1992:205-06) points out is already banal, social change can destabilize profitable-but-backward-looking frames of reference and authority: these are open to challenge. Central to that challenge is deciphering the limits and strengths of policing, prosecuting, and bureaucratically centralizing the control of environmental destruction. In this essay, we have suggested how tools of cultural criminological analysis can illuminate processes shaping emerging technology-based infrastructures. Critical scholarship can help to reverse the effects on world peoples who have been dispossessed of livable streets, forests, homes and waterways.

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van Erp, Judith, and Wim Huisman. 2010. Smart regulation and enforcement of illegal disposal of electronic waste. Criminology & Public Policy 9(3): 579-90. White, Rob. 2002. Environmental Harm and the Political Economy of Consumption. Social Justice 29:82-102. White, Rob 2008. Crimes against nature: environmental criminology and ecological justice. Cullompton, UK: Willan. White, Rob. 2010. Globalisation and environmental harm. In: White R (ed.), Global environmental harm: criminological perspectives. Cullompton, UK: Willan.pp3-19. White, Rob. 2011. Transnational Environmental Crime: Toward an eco-global criminology. Abingdon, Oxon, UK: Routledge. White, Rob 2012. Climate Change and Paradoxical Harm. In Criminological and Legal Consequences of Climate Change. Stephen Farrall, Tawhida Ahmed, and Duncan French (eds.). Pp. 63-77. Oñati International Series in Law and Society/Hart Publishing: Oxford. Winner, Langdon. 1977. Autonomous Technology: Technics-out-of-Control as a Theme in Political Thought. Cambridge: MIT Press. Winner, Langdon. 1986. “Social constructivism: Opening the black box and finding it empty,” Science as Culture 3, Part 3(16) (1986): 443. White (2012:64) finds that “paradoxical harm” associated with new technologies rests on a contradiction that is only apparent; he sees the harm stemming “from the pursuit of sectional social interests that inevitably fashion responses to, rather than resolution of, the key contradictions of the present age (namely, preservation of the capitalist growth economy in contrast to transformation toward sustainable ecology).” In contrast, our emphasis is on certain kinds of design and consumption—on those incorporated unconsciously into the routines of daily life without reflection, consideration, or forethought. We grapple here with paradoxes that seem to us more real than apparent. 1

The term, “hybrid vehicle,” refers to any vehicle that uses two or more distinct power sources to move it. The most common hybrid vehicle is the HEV, which combines an ICE with one or more electric motors. 2

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We note that the benefits of HEVs might still outweigh the risks and thus we are not suggesting ridding our roadways of Priuses and other HEVs. Although as Karvonen (2011: 13-14) points out, the “confounding character of nonpoint pollution is a classic ‘wicked problem’ of environmental protection—one that is not easily solved through technomanagerial activities” and certainly contributes to the fact that even at the end of the twentieth century, over half of U.S. waters did not meet CWA water quality goals. 4

Oswald Spring (2013:330) uses the metaphor of “rape capitalism” to refer to the effects of globalization on water and health in weaker nation states. 5

6

Tradition can be invoked in cases ranging from hate crime, to gun laws, to tobacco sales making criminal prosecutions, if they occur at all, amenable to generalized cultural defenses. “Cultural defense” has also be used in individual cases of kidnapping and murder of foreign women by their menfolk, judgments for their crimes mitigated simply by reference to a validating tradition-fromelsewhere (for critique, see Koptiuch, 1996; cf. Brisman, 2011b). 7

Advocates for the continuance of two streams of bodily and habitat pollution come together in the well-funded forces opposing tobacco control and climate change legislation (Fallin et al., 2013; see generally Brisman, 2012). 8

In addition to the importance of event as a legal framing device is the extent to which harm is perpetrated in the course of providing a public service. The extent to which the perpetrator of harm-inthe-course-of-service-provision is blamed, varies cross-culturally. So, for example, when a pathogen was known to be present in blood products but had not yet been identified as HIV, doctors and other government officials were discovered to have made the decision to keep the risk of fatality secret, resulting in the deaths of most severe hemophiliacs. In France and Japan, they were found criminally negligent and sent to prison (see, e.g., MacGregor, 1996; Whitley, 1998). In the U.S., however, where 95% of the extreme hemophiliacs died as a result of tainted blood, the decision-makers were categorically not prosecuted because their crime was carried out in the process of “essential public service” (Andersen 1994). Some of this logic bleeds into attitudes towards energy company pollution. See also Latour’s (2004) discussion of assumptions about nature and society reproduced by environmental movements. For an overview of ANT, see Gershon (2010). 9

10

See Takemura (2012) for a discussion of the relative appropriateness of referring to the Fukushima nuclear power plant accident as a “natural disaster,” “human-made disaster,” or “crime.” Despite their name, REEs are not actually rare. According to Folger (2011:138), “[t]he rarest rare earth is nearly 200 times more abundant than gold.” REEs are typically dispersed; what is rare is finding deposits large and concentrated enough to be worth mining (see Folger, 2011; Margonelli, 2009; McFadden, 2013). 11

12

According to Gorman (2009), terbium and dysprosium are added in smaller amounts to the alloy so as to preserve neodymium's magnetic properties at high temperatures. 13

For a general discussion of the adverse impacts of mining versus recycling, see van Erp and Huisman (2010); for a discussion of “urban mining”—the mining of “(raw) materials from products, buildings and waste in a society . . . [and] using those compounds and elements as resources for new production, thereby avoiding these materials from going to waste,” see Bisschop (2012:241).

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CRIMSOC: the Journal of Social Criminology Green Criminology Special Issue, Autumn/Winter 2013 In a similar vein, White, who refers to the hybrid vehicle as “the flavour of the month,” observes: “The notion that ‘business can profit by protecting the environment’ is frequently linked to the idea of technological fixes vis-à-vis climate change, such as the development of hybrid cars, more technologically efficient appliances and light sources such as fluorescent bulbs. Burying the problem is also touted as a solution—whether this be radioactive waste or carbon pollution” (2012: 69, 71 (quoting Baer and Singer, 2009: 181)). 14

15

For an ethnographic and comparative approach to environmental decision-making, see Kane (2013); for a commentary on Kane (2013), see Brisman (2013). For overview of security and environmental change, see Dalby (2009). 16

In her ethnography of infrastructure, Susan Leigh Star (380-382) foregrounds the backstage elements of work properties associated with its design and construction. Three of these elements stand out as particularly relevant to the use of REEs in green machines: 1) Links with conventions of practice, wherein “infrastructure both shapes and is shaped by the conventions of a community of practice”; (2) Embodiment of standards, wherein infrastructure becomes transparent to users, supporting their tasks without having to be reinvented, because they plug into other infrastructures and tools in a standardized fashion; and (3) Built on an installed base, wherein infrastructure is not created anew but “wrestles with the inertia of the installed base and inherits strengths and limitations from that base”, e.g. optical fibers run along old railroad lines. New systems are designed for backward compatibility. To what extent are the environmental harms associated with new technologies inherited through conventions of practice, the embodiment of established standards, and the ease of installing on existing bases? To what extent might it be feasible to design them otherwise?

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4. ‘The Security Implications of the Illegal Wildlife Trade’: Tanya Wyatt, University of Northumberland, UK

Abstract National security is a continuing topic of concern and part of that is the growing understanding of the connection to global crime. Often though only traditional national security issues, which are conceptualized around state sovereignty and military capability are addressed, and when exploring the criminal nexus only traditional or mainstream crimes, such as drug and weapons trafficking are analyzed. This article departs from this in two ways. First, it centers on the illegal wildlife trade, which consists of both animals and plants, and is an often overlooked green crime outside of mainstream criminological studies. Second, it argues that the illegal wildlife trade is not only a threat to national security, but also threatens other equally important non-traditional aspects of security. This article demonstrates that non-traditional security concerns and the marginalized crime of wildlife trafficking should be the focus of more research and government focus as it poses significant threats to environmental, human, economic, and national security.

Key Words Wildlife Trafficking, Illegal Wildlife Trade, National Security, Non-traditional Security, Green Criminology

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Introduction With the terrorist attacks of September 11th 2001, North Korea launching missiles and unrest in the Middle East, so-called traditional security threats stemming from these incidents dominate government agendas. While concern for the above is obviously warranted, there is a risk that other more nontraditional threats can go unaddressed. This article details one such overlooked security threat by introducing the multitude of dangers that are posed by the illegal wildlife trade or wildlife trafficking.

Though often ignored or unbeknownst to the public and governments, the black market in wildlife occurs on a significant and problematic scale. Wildlife includes all non-human animals and plants that are indigenous or exotic and also their derivatives (Burgener et al, 2001). This means this article will draw on examples from non-human animal trade as well as timber and other plants. According to an expert at The Independent, the illegal wildlife trade, in this case only non-human animals, is estimated to be worth around GBP 6 billion annually (Fison, 2011). This estimate does not include timber and fish both of which are sizable black markets in themselves. The illegal wildlife trade involves the consumption of hundreds of millions of plants and animals (CITES, N.D.b). The supply and demand for this wildlife is not isolated to certain regions. It is pervasive, reaching all corners of the globe. Wildlife trafficking has many forms such as smuggling of live animals and plants for pets, sports and personal collections as well as poaching and harvesting animals and plants to make them into clothing, food and medicines (Milliken and Shaw, 2012; Pires and Clarke, 2011; Sollund, 2011; Wyatt, 2012).

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This article will begin by briefly setting the context and regulation of wildlife trafficking before focusing on the global security dimensions posed by this overlooked green or environmental crime. These security concerns do not conform to the traditional singular focus on national security, though this will be addressed. The non-traditional concerns are broken down into environmental, human, and economic security, which will be followed by a discussion of the connections to national security. Each of these has multiple elements that will demonstrate the security threats present with the continued unregulated trade in wildlife.

Research by Rosen and Smith (2010) shows that between 1996 and 2008 20% of recorded global illegal wildlife seizures happened in India. Other areas included Australia (6%), the United States (6%), the United Kingdom (10%) and China (11%) (Rosen and Smith, 2010). Of course these seizures tell only part of the story. US Government officials have stated that China is the main area for demand of illegal wildlife followed by the US and the European Union (McMurray, 2008). The amount of illegal wildlife trade is undoubtedly higher than official estimates because of the unknown amount going undetected. Estimates of this unknown amount in different regions and for different species varies; for instance it is estimated in Vietnam that seizures account for only 10% of the total illegal trade (Drury, 2009), whereas in Russia the seizures of illegal falcons is 25% of the suspected total (Lyapustin, 2006). In regards to timber trafficking, Nelleman and INTERPOL (2012) estimate the global illegal trade to be worth USD 30 – 100 billion annually with 10-30% of total trade being illegal. This is just a brief snapshot of the scale and scope of wildlife trafficking. This article proposes that such illegal trade in wildlife affects four areas of security: environmental security, human security, economic security, and national

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security. Each of these will be discussed in turn in the preceding sections. First though, an overview on the main international convention, the Convention on the International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (CITES), which regulates the international trade of non-human animals and plants.

CITES There are 178 countries that have voluntarily joined CITES since its inception in 1973 (CITES, N.D.b). By becoming a member of CITES, countries agree to financially support the Convention and to establish legislation and regulations that adhere to the licensing system. This licensing system establishes three appendices, which define the amount of trade that is allowed of a particular species and the specific permits that are required for trade in a species in each of the differing appendices (CITES, N.D.a). Appendix I species are essentially banned from trade except in certain circumstances (CITES, N.D.a). Appendix II species are subject to quotas that are designed to create sustainable trade that will not decrease populations (CITES, N.D.a). Appendix III species are protected within at least one country, which has sought the help of other member countries in controlling the trade (CITES, N.D.a). Two authorities need to be created under CITES – a Management Authority and a Scientific Authority. The Management Authority oversees the licensing system, which includes the import, export, and re-export permits that are needed for trade in CITES listed species (CITES, N.D.a). The Management Authority communicates with other CITES members and the CITES Secretariat as well as making formal reports to the CITES Secretariat. The Scientific Authorities are tasked with determining the effects of trade on the status of species and

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recommending trade quotas (CITES, N.D.a). Now that a brief overview of CITES has been given, the security threats posed by illegal wildlife trade which does not adhere to CITES regulations will be detailed. CITES will be returned to when discussing what inclusion of wildlife trafficking on security agendas would mean.

Environmental Security The illegal wildlife trade poses two main threats to the security of the environment. First, wildlife trafficking harms and destabilizes ecosystems because of the loss of biodiversity stemming from poaching and the collection of excessive amounts of wildlife. Second, the illegal wildlife trade provides a mechanism for the introduction of invasive species and diseases, which also upsets the balance and stability of ecosystems. In regard to the first environmental security threat, the illegal trade in wildlife can be the cause of species extinctions, contributing to the loss of essential biodiversity. Whereas habitat destruction is often considered to be the most prominent threat to animals, two species go extinct each year due to hunting and poaching (Domalain, 1977). In Africa, for example, there has been unprecedented loss of wildlife from poaching. The Black rhinoceros’ population, poached for their horns, has diminished by 97% and some countries have lost 90% of their elephant populations because of uncontrolled trafficking in ivory all within the last 35 years (Krott, 2005). Levels of poaching of both of these species are on the rise (Christy, 2012; Milliken and Shaw, 2012).

Plant loss through illegal trafficking also damages ecosystems and in turn animal life. Researchers in Far East Russia believe that the clear cutting and illegal logging of the cedar forests in the regions have destroyed the staple diet (seeds

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and leaves) and habitat of the wild boar. This is thought to be the reason for the wild boars’ drop in population (Wyatt, 2012). The decrease in the number of wild boar directly affects the survival of the approximately 400 highly endangered Amur or Siberian tigers, reliant on wild boar for food (Wyatt, 2012).

Illegal logging and timber trafficking, a large part of the illegal wildlife trade, are a major cause of deforestation, which accounts for 20% of global CO2 emissions - a key contributor to climate change (UNFAO, 2006). The loss of significant amounts of trees limits the ability of the environment to offset some of the consequences of global warming. These consequences, such as rising sea levels and the alteration of flooding and drought patterns, further destabilize the environment. This can have direct impact on human well-being because people can be displaced from their homes (environmental refugees) and be unable to farm because of the damage to the environment. As is evident, the illegal wildlife trade contributes to the loss of biodiversity, which is in itself a concern, but this loss of biodiversity also has larger environmental security implications.

Additionally, environmental security can be compromised by threats to biosecurity and dangers to public health through the introduction of alien species and from diseases brought to countries through the illegal wildlife trade. In regard to environmental health, for instance, the entry of non-native species is reportedly increasing around the world. This occurs both accidentally through stowaway species in cargo and through the illegal wildlife trade. In San Francisco Bay for instance, a new non-native species now enters the ecosystem every 14 weeks, on average, compared to an average of once every 55 weeks between 1851 and 1960 (USFWS, 2005).

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The evidence for the consequences of introducing invasive species is mounting. For example, recent studies in Florida warn of the dangers of the rapidly growing population of Burmese pythons (Harvey et al, 2008). These and other large snake species are brought to Florida for the pet trade. Such snakes reach 8feet in length and the owners, unable or unwilling to care for the snakes when they reach that size, often release them illegally into the wild. This poses several dangers to Everglades National Park and other vulnerable areas, such as the Florida Keys. First, Burmese pythons are out competing the native reptiles and other predators because unlike native species, Burmese pythons have “broad dietary preferences, a long lifespan (15-25 years), a high reproductive output, and [the] ability to move long distances” (Harvey et al, 2008: 2). Second, the pythons prey upon endangered species that are already on the brink of extinction, such as Key Largo woodrats and round-tailed muskrats (Science Daily, 2008). This is one of many possible examples that testify to the threat to environmental security from the illegal wildlife trade, because it enables invasive species to enter new ecosystems.

Also of concern, is that the illegal wildlife trade can possibly facilitate disease transmission between animals, including humans. The human health implications will be discussed in the human security section. Karesh et al (2005) emphasize the global scope of both the wildlife trade and the markets where products are sold. This coupled with quick transportation creates the potential for the transmission of naturally occurring diseases between species (Karesh et al, 2005). For example, Australia witnessed one instance where four Green Tree pythons shipped from Singapore were infected with an unknown pathogen called Wamena virus, which is lethal to a range of cold-blooded animals including fish, salamanders, turtles and tortoises (Hyatt et al, 2002). Since the shipment was

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legal, the animals underwent the proper health screenings. It is possible though that an illegal, smuggled reptile or other animal could carry such a disease. Such disease can infect the native flora and fauna, causing populations to decline. Additionally, animal industries might be infected with diseases from trafficked animals. This not only has animal welfare implications for those animals, which will undoubtedly be culled, but also can damage the economy and people’s livelihoods. “Trade in wildlife provides disease transmission mechanisms at levels that not only cause human disease outbreaks but also threaten livestock, international trade, rural livelihoods, native wildlife populations, and the health of ecosystems” (Karesh et al, 2005).

Diseases that can be transferred through the unregulated trade of animals threaten domesticated animals and the industries associated with them. Brucellosis (a chronic bacterial infectious disease possibly resulting in spontaneous abortion) can infect cattle and other hoofed stock (Green and CPI, 1999). “In early 2003, the United Nation Food and Agriculture Organization reported that more than one third of the global meat trade was embargoed as a result of mad cow disease, avian influenza, and other livestock disease outbreaks” (Karesh et al, 2005). Also, wild sources of meat like elk and deer, which are also domesticated in smaller numbers, carry a disease similar to mad cow disease called wasting disease (Green and CPI, 1999). Though the avian flu did not infect the human population as was predicted, there was substantial loss of animal life to prevent it from spreading. Hundreds of millions of poultry and livestock were killed as a precautionary measure (Karesh et al, 2005).

As is evident, transmission of any of these diseases into farms or livestock operations would have significant negative implications for both the animals and

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the humans relying on them for their livelihoods. Such occurrences in the past have resulted in destabilized trade, billions of dollars in global economic damage, and massive disruption to people (Karesh et al, 2005). “The illegal wildlife trade bypasses the essential veterinarian and health inspections that need to occur to ensure the health of the animals, the food industries, and therefore people” (Wyatt, 2012: 66).

As shown, wildlife trafficking poses several dangers to environmental security. It contributes to the loss of biodiversity through poaching, collecting, and logging, and also by enabling the introduction of invasive species and transmission of disease. Reducing biodiversity negatively impacts the overall health of ecosystems and can disrupt the stability needed for long-term survival of humans and other species. Disease transmission poses further threats to the health and safety of domesticated animals, food industries, and as the next section highlights, to people.

Human Security As mentioned in the previous section, the disease transmission aspect of the illegal wildlife trade not only poses a danger to environmental security, but it also can endanger human health.

Incidents of zoonosis, where disease is

transmitted from an animal to a human – have been shown to coincide with the global, largely unscrutinized wildlife trade (Naim, 2005). The most well-known of zoonotic diseases are Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome (SARS) from civet cats and Ebola from monkeys.

Zoonotic diseases are more prevalent than only SARS or Ebola. As Green and the Center for Public Integrity (CPI) (1999) have found, monkeys alone can

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transmit multiple pathogens to humans and other animals, such as monkey pox, Hepatitis A and B, Herpes B, shigellosis (a highly infectious form of dysentery), cholera, and tuberculosis, in addition to Ebola. Monkeys are popular animals in the pet trade and this poses particular concern as some of the monkeys sold in the pet trade have been used in medical research, which means that there is the risk of transmitting zoonotic disease to their new owners. For instance, laboratory monkeys can be infected with simian immunodeficiency virus (SIV), thought to be the precursor to the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV), but which has an unknown effect on humans (Green and CPI, 1999).

Other animals that are in demand in the pet trade pose similar dangers. Small mammals can carry tapeworms that cause cysts in the liver, lungs, and brains of humans (Green and CPI, 1999). Additionally, small mammals might have roundworms, which migrate throughout the body of any mammal, including humans, eating the organs and the brain (Green and CPI, 1999). Armadillos, sometimes found in the pet trade, are carriers of human leprosy (Green and CPI, 1999). Small rodents and also reptiles can transmit salmonella. As is evident here from the inclusion of reptiles, zoonotic diseases are not confined to mammals and reptiles are a particular cause for concern as they make up the bulk of the pet trade. The avian flu mentioned early was thought to be zoonotic and it certainly is not the only disease that can be transmitted by birds. Parrots and other birds also can carry and transmit psittacosis, or parrot fever, that causes a high fever, severe headache, and pneumonia-like symptoms in humans (Green and CPI, 1999). The swine flu, or H1N1, is more recent evidence and reminder that human health can be endangered by diseases that they contract from animals. Again, smuggled wildlife bypasses quarantines and routine health inspections that ensure the containment of diseases that are harmful to humans.

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The illegal wildlife trade can pose other threats to humans though beyond the danger to their health.

Economic Security Global industries and people’s livelihoods depend on healthy ecosystems and natural resources, but these resources are not inexhaustible, nor are they managed sustainably. According to the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP) (2007), half of the world’s jobs are associated with fisheries, forestry, and agriculture. Yet, corporations all over the world exploit these natural resources through the illegal wildlife trade - be it illegal logging, overfishing or poaching (Boekhout van Solinge, 2010; Nelleman and INTERPOL, 2012). The loss of these natural resources is also a critical loss of revenue for the countries and for the people where it occurs. Contributing to the negative economic implications, but with much less of an impact, rural villagers and marginalized people engage in unsustainable practices like slash-and-burn farming, poaching of wildlife and collecting of rare plants.

As mentioned above, deforestation and biodiversity loss affect the health of the ecosystem and therefore industries that are reliant on the environment. Just one of the many possible examples comes from the Cardamom Mountain Range in Southwestern Cambodia. This mountain range is the main watershed to the southern coast of the country. Alterations and damage to this area caused by the deforestation from illegal logging and slash-and-burn farming are beginning to affect the environment that supports the fisheries downstream. These fisheries provide the livelihood and lifeline for many Cambodians. Further damage to the watershed could disrupt this region’s main industry.

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As previously discussed, the loss of species and biodiversity damages and destabilizes ecosystems, further threatening wildlife, but biodiversity loss can also negatively impact certain aspects of the economy, particularly the agricultural industry. Agriculture is dependent on particular species.

For

example, one pangolin eats up to 70 million ants and insects annually, which is thought to help control pests (WAZA, 2011) - an essential component of a balanced ecosystem and important to the agricultural industry. The pangolin is now one of the most trafficked animals in Asia because of the desire for its exotic meat and the supposed medicinal properties of its scales (Pantel and Anak, 2010). With the extreme decrease in the number of pangolins, pest levels will likely increase resulting in increased damage to crops meant for human consumption.

This has economic implications for a variety of agricultural

industries in the pangolin’s range. The illegal wildlife trade then is tied to the security of the environment, people and as shown in this section, the economy as well. The next section will demonstrate that it is also connected to the stability of nations.

National Security The illegal wildlife trade can pose a threat to the national security of countries around the world. Some of this danger to national security stems from the aforementioned risks to environmental, human, and economic security - all of which are closely tied together. A damaged environment can, as mentioned, create environmental refugees that can have far reaching implications for the nation where this occurs. Be it forced migrations within the country or to other countries to escape environmental destruction, large-scale movement of people has impacts upon governments and their stability. Inter-human conflicts can arise when resources become scarce or are contested (Boekhout van Solinge,


2010; Brisman and South, 2013). Even without forced migration, the destruction of arable land or collapse of ecosystems that then become unable to support human populations could cause severe economic consequences. This in turn could potentially destabilize governments as well. The different aspects of security proposed here and the threats posed to them through the illegal wildlife trade are closely interlinked and on some level inseparable, so if the security of the environment, people, or the economy is breached this can ultimately affect the nation.

As will be evident, national security in this article is beyond military security and refers to territorial inviolability (Romm, 1994) as well as national economic or political interests, which protect the values and vitality of the state (Jordan and Taylor, 1991). Actions or threats of actions that limit the state’s ability to choose policies relating to these interests and values can be considered as threats to national security (Ullman, 1983). In this case then, the illegal wildlife trade is a national security threat in addition to the above reasons, because of its connection to corruption, terrorism and insurgency, and organized crime, all of which challenge the state’s authority and legitimacy, and the rule of law.

Corruption in this article is primarily concerned with the state and reflects the elements that Holmes (2006) developed. Even though there is not a universal or agreed upon definition of corruption there are actions or non-actions, which are widely considered throughout diverse societies to be corrupt (Holmes, 2006). For example, even in countries where officials routinely demand a bribe to complete a task that is part of their duties, citizens tend to regard this as corruption (Holmes, 2006). Other examples of behavior that is widely agreed upon as corrupt are the diversion of public funds or goods to the officials’

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personal accounts or ownership, and the demand for bribes in return for breaking the rules or looking the other way (Holmes, 2006). In regard to wildlife trafficking, this kind of corruption has several implications. First, bribery of officials is integral to the smuggling operation. This may be paying for wildlife import/export permits or paying for Customs agents, for example, to not notice illegal wildlife at the border. Second, diversion of public goods can come in the form of property ownership being given to government officials, who can then illegally log or poach wildlife on the ill gotten property. It is argued that smuggling of wildlife and other black market commodities can only take place because of the complicity of some governments (Naim, 2005).

In more extreme instances, corrupt high level officials who are profiting from the illegal wildlife trade enable the trafficking to continue by not implementing or enforcing the pertinent legislation such as laws to comply with CITES. This seems to be the case in states that were weakened by the collapse of the Soviet Union (Naim, 2005). In some instances, corrupt officials control law enforcement and the courts, which allow black markets like wildlife trafficking to continue (Naim, 2005). This might be an individual official, or as is suspected in the case of North Korea, the government itself supposedly participates in the illegal wildlife trade (Naim, 2005). Similarly in Cambodia, different factions of the government along with opposition parties and the wealthy bypass the state prohibition on logging to sell timber (Global Witness 2007; Tagliacozzo, 2001). This level of corruption threatens the environment and challenges the rule of law.

And so, too, does the lower levels of corruption that take place at the globalized borders around the world. Corrupt law enforcement officers and politicians

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capitalize on the relaxed border crossings for personal profit and to fund opposition to or insurgency against legitimate governments (Tagliacozzo, 2001). Politicians can also pressure law enforcement to ignore or under-enforce wildlife regulations so that the politicians can continue receiving profits (Gavitt, 1992; Schmidt, 2004). In regard to law enforcement, in many of the nations where wildlife is sourced from, the police are poorly paid and often times asking for bribes is part of their expected behavior (Tagliacozzo, 2001). These are significant ways in which the corruption tied to the illegal wildlife trade threatens national security by potentially contributing to the destabilization of governments and unreliability of law enforcement.

Corruption also has several other ramifications, which tie into the other security threats posed by the illegal wildlife trade. Smith and Walpole introduce a twofold problem in terms of the environment (Smith and Walpole, 2005). First, corruption can negatively impact the success of conservation programs by diverting conservation funds to other areas, which can reduce the amount of law enforcement and wildlife protection. This can contribute to the loss in biodiversity discussed earlier. Second, the profits derived from corruptly obtained natural resources and wildlife result in further overexploitation of the environment and its inhabitants (Smith and Walpole, 2005). This further endangers wildlife, which oftentimes then increases their value even further because of their increased rarity (Smith and Walpole, 2005). “Systematic corruption generates economic costs by distorting incentives, political costs by undermining institutions, and social costs by redistributing wealth and power toward the undeserving. When corruption undermines property rights, the rule of law and incentives to invest, economic and political development are crippled” (Klitgaard et al, 2004: 4)

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In terms of national security, this then limits the policy choices of the state and challenges its vitality. According to Holmes (2006: 1), the World Bank has identified corruption “as the single greatest source of poverty in today’s world”. Furthermore, corruption intersects with terrorism and insurgency, and organized crime that could potentially threaten national security further through the destabilization of countries and regions.

At the core of security discussions is the role of both terrorism and insurgency, but little attention is paid to their connection to green crimes, such as the illegal wildlife trade. Terrorism here corresponds to Schmid’s (2008) research that has found that terrorism is not only a doctrine, which adopts certain methods for generating fear, but it also involves planned violent action aimed to produce particular effects on multiple audiences. Wyler and Sheikh’s (2009) report sites anecdotal evidence that terrorists are using the profits from the illegal wildlife trade to fund their operations. Further support for this possible tie is that terrorist groups are active in the biodiversity hotspots where the black market in wildlife is running rampant (Wyler and Sheikh, 2009). Wildlife trade experts in Russia believe this is the case in their own country where Chechen and Middle Eastern terrorist groups supposedly use the profits of the illegal sale of endangered falcons to fund their training camps (Wyatt, 2012). This challenges the previous stance of security analysts’ that traffickers would not work with terrorists because of the higher-risk of getting caught (Shelley and Orrtung, 2006). In addition to terrorists possibly receiving funding through the smuggling of wildlife, experts have also speculated that they could purposely traffic diseased animals or plants to use as a bioterrorist attack thus using the illegal wildlife

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trade as a vector for terrorist activity rather than as a source of income (Wyler and Sheikh, 2009).

The involvement of insurgency groups in wildlife trafficking seems to fit a similar profile. Rebel and militia groups throughout the elephant ranges of Africa are known to poach ivory (Naylor, 2004). Sudanese rebels poach ivory and trade it for weapons; Somali militias are encouraged to poach ivory rather than receiving a salary and militia and insurgent groups in Mozambique and Angola are also known to poach elephant ivory for profit (Naylor, 2004; Warchol 2004). Terrorism and militia or insurgency groups add to the instability and violence of society and evidence is beginning to emerge that this might in part be possible through funding generated by the illegal wildlife trade (Brisman and South, 2013), but this connection needs further study to be fully verified. More well known is that organized crime, which can be powerful enough to disrupt the rule of law, is involved in wildlife trafficking.

Research into the illegal wildlife trade found that in the late 1990s organized crime had become involved in this type of smuggling (Kendall, 1998). Presumably, these groups were attracted by the low risk of detection and/or arrest, the lack of serious punishment if they were to get caught, and the high profits that were (and are) available through wildlife trafficking (Cook et al, 2002; Reynolds, 2002). Additionally, since the black market in wildlife can require multiple coordinated steps – poaching, processing, transporting, and selling – organized crime groups were capable of managing the entire smuggling operation (Cook et al, 2002; Wyatt, 2012). This level of complexity is why in addition to organized crime supposedly legitimate corporate traders are involved

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in the illicit selling of wildlife (Lowther et al, 2002). In both instances, it is as Ruggiero (1996: 76) states “wildlife traffickers are opportunity perceivers”.

There are several studies that provide proof of organized crime being involved in wildlife trafficking. In Germany, organized crime is involved in the trafficking of rare animal species (Van Duyne, 1996). The Japanese organized crime group, the yakuza, is involved in the illegal whale trade (Lemonick, 1994). The Russian Mafia not only advertises illegal wildlife for sale in Moscow markets in English (Lemonick, 1994), they have been known to play a leading role in smuggling caviar when Russia was a part of the USSR (Cook et al, 2002). Well-armed Asian crime syndicates are heavily involved in the poaching of rhinoceros for its horn (Milliken and Shaw, 2012).

The open borders that have accompanied globalization are thought to help organized crime trafficking wildlife (Vasquez, 2003). In Cambodia for instance, the more open border has meant fewer border police and this has been taken advantage of by highly organized gangs of wildlife smugglers (Tagliacozzo, 2001). One reason wildlife trafficking is appealing to criminals: “is the astronomical profit….and don’t let anyone tell you that it is being done by the poor starving peasant who is trying to eke out a meager living in the face of starvation….Those that are wrecking the world are the rich and powerful who come along and see much wealth in the form of timber and meat and skins and minerals…” (Nichol, 1987: 150). Organized crime is known to combine the trafficking of wildlife with other smuggling, particularly of drugs (Cook et al, 2002). This could be in part because the source countries for drugs and wildlife tend to be the same (Cook et al, 2002). The two black markets can have the same smuggling routes, drugs can

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be concealed in shipments of legal wildlife, and drugs and wildlife can be exchanged for one another (Cook et al, 2002). Evidence of the perpetration of drug and wildlife smuggling come mostly from South America (Lemonick, 1994) particularly in Brazil where in the past 40% of drug seizures have contained illegal wildlife (Reynolds, 2002). This connection is seen in other areas also, such as the US, where in 1993 cocaine was found in 33% of wildlife seizures (Reynolds, 2002). In the UK, half of the criminals prosecuted for wildlife trafficking were previously convicted for drugs, violent crimes, theft, or possession of a firearm (Reynolds, 2002).

Drug smuggling is not the only black market that organized crime uses to hide wildlife trafficking and other smuggling. Wildlife trafficking is also blended into the organized crime networks for weapons and human trafficking (IBRD, 2005). Weapons and human trafficking are already considered to be national security concerns and the connection to wildlife trafficking is yet another reason why the illegal wildlife trade should also be deemed a threat to national security. These organized crime networks then combine the supply chains of their black market products and multiply their income by using the routes for wildlife, drugs, people, or weapons amassing significant profits in doing so (IBRD, 2005).

The national security concern stemming from organized crime is because it exerts influence on politics, the media, the public, the judiciary, and the economy (Levi, 1998). This is mostly due to the profits reaped from wildlife trafficking etc. giving organized crime tremendous power to corrupt different aspects of society. Organized crime are able to bribe politicians, who as mentioned can then not implement or under-enforce legislation that, in this case, would further benefit organized crime. The media, too, can be corrupted by

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money from organized crime. With control of a newspaper or television channel, criminal groups can influence politics, which again can shift power to organized crime. Bribery of the judiciary can have similar consequences.

Further security issues exist if organized crime has significant control of the state or if the state is unable to challenge the power of the organized crime groups. Either situation is damaging to the nation as a whole, particularly the economy, because the nation's ability to engage with the international community will in all likelihood be limited in terms of trade and other activities (Lowther et al, 2002). Also, the state loses legitmacy and therefore stability because it cannot govern without interference. As demonstrated, corruption, and terrorism and insurgency also pose risks to the security of nations in this way because they, too, have the potential to disrupt the rule of law. Of further concern is danger to the personal safety of nations' citizens who are exposed to the often violent power struggles of organized crime, terrorists, and insurgents. Wildlife trafficking is connected to all of these threats to national security and should therefore be a national security threat as well.

If wildlife trafficking were put on the national security agenda then CITES, as described above, would most likely change to some degree. As an organization, CITES would take a much more prominent role in the United Nations and the authorities within the member countries would be included in meetings regarding national security. This would increase the awareness of wildlife trafficking, which is an important aspect in combating it. Former US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton has recently suggested that wildlife trafficking be added to national security agendas (Coalition Against Wildlife Trafficking, 2012), which may help in increasing the awareness and interest in this green crime. If

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this were to happen, CITES would possibly receive more funding and this would enhance their ability to combat the illegal wildlife trade by increasing their oversight capability. Wildlife trafficking as a national security issue may lead to CITES creating a law enforcement unit of its own, which has been considered in the past (Lemonick, 1994). Such an agency would be able to coordinate international investigations, which would benefit member nations who are not able or who are unwilling to dedicate sufficient resources to tackle the illegal wildlife trade. Reducing wildlife trafficking would not only help the environment, but because of the interconnected nature of black markets, it would also contribute to the reduction of organized crime, corruption, terrorism and insurgency, which could improve the security of nations and people in various parts of the world.

Conclusion There are a multitude of potential environmental, human, economic, and national security threats from wildlife trafficking. The threats to the environment are the instability that arises from biodiversity loss from poaching and logging, which can lead to those ecosystems being unable to support life, including human life. The environment can also be endangered by the introduction of invasive species and diseases that can be brought or transmitted through the illegal wildlife trade. This could negatively impact the global industries that are reliant on natural resources, national and individual incomes, and the food supply. The current novel coronavirus, a SARS-like virus that possibly made the jump from nonhuman animals to humans has killed 18 people in the Middle East and there are 34 cases in Europe (BBC News 2013). This demonstrates that diseases spread by wildlife trafficking might not just infect plants and animals, but can potentially be transmitted to humans.

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Wildlife trafficking is a national security concern because corrupt officials, terrorists and insurgents, and organized crime groups are involved in it and profit from it.

All of these elements can impede economic and democratic

development, and limit the policy choices of nation states. Such challenges to the actions available to the government can compound poverty and human rights violations. Additionally, the groups or individuals profiting from the illegal wildlife trade can create conflict and instability in countries (particularly terrorists and insurgents) and engage in violence not only to further their cause, but also to protect their profits.

CITES is the international convention that addresses the illegal wildlife trade. It has been successful in encouraging stricter border monitoring for wildlife, increasing public awareness of illegal wildlife trade in conjunction with its partner organizations, and in establishing a global system of regulation that is widely adhered to (Stoett, 2002). Yet CITES remains relatively weak (Stoett, 2002). Membership is voluntary; therefore compliance with the licensing system cannot be forced upon countries. So essentially, if a country wants to continue trading a particular species they are free to do so. Further weakness stems from CITES’ lack of law enforcement capacity, which is of course a challenge for all transnational crimes. By combating the illegal wildlife trade, CITES is also helping to tackle the security threats of the illegal wildlife trade that this article has detailed. Since its reach is so extensive, CITES seems to continue to be the best mechanism to address the illegal wildlife trade. Nations would help CITES to reduce wildlife trafficking and the associated

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crimes and security threats by recognizing wildlife trafficking as part of the wider threat to national security.

The illegal wildlife trade is a far-reaching security threat that deserves more attention by academics and the security community due in part to the implications that this article has outlined. Further research will provide more information about the structure and perpetration of this green crime. This can then be used for drafting policy to combat wildlife trafficking and in the development of on the ground solutions that will mitigate the security threats described here and help preserve the planet and all its inhabitants.

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BBC News. 2013. WHO says new corona virus may be passed person to person. http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-22502143. Accessed 14 May 2013. Boekhout van Solinge, T. 2010. Deforestation Crimes and Conflicts in the Amazon. Critical Criminology. 18: 263-277. Brisman, A. and South, N. 2013. Resource Wealth, Power, Crime and Conflict. In Westerhuis, D., Walters, R. and Wyatt, T. (eds). Emerging Issues in Green Criminology: Exploring Power, Justice and Harm. Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan: 57-71. Burgener, M., Snyman, N. and Hauck, M. (2001). Towards a Sustainable Wildlife Trade: An Analysis of Nature Conservation Legislation in South Africa with particular reference to the wildlife trade. Cape Town, South Africa: University of Cape Town. Christy, B. 2012. Ivory Worship. National Geographic. http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2012/10/ivory/christy-text. Accessed 14 February 2013. Coalition

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5. ‘Global Transference of Environmental Harm: The Case of Toxic Toys’ Diane Heckenberg School of Social Sciences University of Tasmania, Australia

Introduction Every day toxic harms flow across the geographical and jurisdictional borders of a globalised world. They are carried by wind and sea currents (e.g. pathogens, acid rain, plastic gyres), in the bodies of migratory birds (e.g. bird flu), in the ballast water of ships (e.g. invasive species like the northern pacific sea star) and in the global supply chain and distribution network that moves products around the world. Sometimes these products harbour toxic contaminants and deadly components that migrate during use. Examples include chromium and cobalt leaching from certain metal-on-metal hip implants; lead and cadmium in children’s toys and jewellery; melamine in infant formula and pet food; bacteria such as e-coli, salmonella and listeria in food and deadly components such as rare earth magnets and button cell batteries in toys and everyday products. This paper conceptualises these flows in a particular way, through the lens of transference, where this refers to the movement of something from one person (entity) or place to another. Toxicity here is used in its broadest sense, where this refers to the degree to which something is ‘poisonous’ to someone or something, and more broadly to the toxic effect on larger and more complex groups such as foreign workers, communities of consumers (purchasers) and the end-users of toys, namely children, everywhere. In their trajectory across the world, toxic

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products leave behind a trail of harm, the invisibility of which is not only reflected in the contaminants themselves, but also in their patterns of victimisation. The response to such harms is examined through the lens of green criminology, deviancy theory and techniques of neutralisation. Based upon a recently completed major research project (Heckenberg, 2013), the substantive subject matter of this article is the world of toxic toys.

Why toys? The discovery of a warning label for a toxic chemical inside a toy purchased for one of our grandchildren in late 2006 was the catalyst for thinking more specifically about toxic harms. This was well before the issue of toxic toys was on the horizon, with global toy-related recalls peaking in 2007. Called a ‘laugha-ball’ (See Photo 1.1), the toy was purchased from a ‘hawker’ in a government office in Hobart. Photo 1.1: ‘Laugh-a-ball Toy’

After playing with one of two toys intermittently over the ensuing weekend it stopped ‘laughing’ and on unzipping the fluffy outside cover, we discovered a

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toxic warning label (See Photo 1.2) attached to the rigid plastic ball that gave the toy its shape. Photo 1.2: Toxic Warning Label

A green cardboard tag (See Photo 1.3) on the outside of the toy was environmentally friendly (in colour and content), displaying the words “nontoxic materials”, the age-specific recommendation of the toy as ‘3 and up’ and the name of

the distributor of the toy It also displayed the CE stamp of

approval, indicating the toy had passed European Union standards of quality and safety, some of the most stringent at that time (2006). Photo 1.3: Non-toxic Tag

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A cloth tag sewn into the toy (See Photo 1.4) stipulated the country of manufacture (China), the materials the toy was made of (new materials only), reiterated the age recommendation of 3+, and the name of a Teddy Bear company in California Photo 1.4: Cloth Tag

Photo 1.5: Toxic Packaging The toy’s packaging was also toxic, bearing as it did a ‘danger of suffocation’ warning for small children. Toxic packaging is an important area for further research.

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For me, the nagging questions were: what exactly is the chemical of concern? How did a carcinogenic toxin from California end up inside a toy in Australia? Who put it inside the toy and why? How did it move, undetected, across geographical and jurisdictional borders? (United States to China to Australia) and more importantly, why is it OK for Australian children but not for American children? It immediately raised questions about the distribution (and redistribution) of toxic risks and issues of social and environmental justice.

Importantly, this toxic toy was the catalyst for thinking about harm as dynamic rather than static, as inherently mobile and therefore subject to transference. Simultaneously, it also prompted thinking about the mobility of different forms of harm (like those cited in the introduction), modes or conduits of transference (independent of mechanisms of globalisation), the ramifications of an adulterated product’s trajectory across geographical and jurisdictional borders, and the biological, social and ecological consequences of such transference. This informed a spatial conceptualisation of the ‘the environment’, reflecting the growing realisation that pollution is increasingly in here (that is, the internal environment of bodies – all species) as well as ‘out there’ (that is, the external environments of the places of habitation (where species live and move and have their being) and the spaces of nature (air, water, soil) that sustain all life on planet earth.

So in June 2007, when lead was detected in the surface paint of Thomas & Friends™ wooden railway sets, these events coincided with a growing interest in green criminology as a framework for studying environmental harms and crimes (see, for example, Beirne & South, 2007; White, 2008). The recall of Thomas &

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Friends™ wooden railway sets by American company RC2 Corporation served to connect toys and toxicity in the public imagination. It triggered a spate of similar recalls by companies large and small for lead-contaminated children’s toys and jewellery that captured global media headlines for well over a year, peaking in 2007. As the toy-related recalls escalated the ‘crisis’ provided a steady stream of information and data around toxic toys.

The advent of eco-global criminology (White 2011), a subset of green criminology where the criminological gaze is focussed on the ecological and the global, was well suited to conceptualising the topic (toxic products) in relation to justice criteria. Whilst green criminology focuses on crimes (and harms) against nature, eco-global criminology emphasises ‘the essential interconnectedness of issues, events, people, places and the natural landscape’ (White 2009: 18). This emphasis resonates with the movement of harms across borders (transference; chains of harm), the connection between different forms of harm and environmental concerns (e.g. heavy metals and the pollution of bodies, places and nature) and the recognition that such transgressions occur within specific geographical, economic and social contexts. Green criminologist too are concerned with issues of human rights and global governance (Beirne and South 2007), sentiments relevant to consumers’ right to know what is in a product and what may potentially migrate from a product (as both lead and magnets did in these cases) as well as calling companies to account for the production of harm in their extended supply chains.

Political Context Toxic harms are never produced in an economic and political vacuum (Pellow 2007), but in the context of a world dominated by the imperatives of capital

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accumulation and free trade and against the backdrop of prevailing political and economic issues. In the case of toxic toys, longstanding political and economic sensitivities between China and the United States resurfaced during the global toy-related recalls. Sensitivities included the transfer of American manufacturing jobs to developing economies like China, trade imbalances between the two countries, tensions over the value of the Chinese Yuan, and political and public concern that the quality of toys had been compromised for a cheap manufacturing location.

There was widespread political and public outrage at the fact that lead, a substance banned for over three decades, was turning up in excessive quantities in children’s toys and jewellery. Consumers felt betrayed by the big toy companies and high-profile brands they had put their trust in. The topic of dangerous toys also made for a good story that dominated global headlines for well over a year, alongside the perception that companies had put profits before people, in this instance one of the most vulnerable groups in society, children, albeit the focus was primarily on the victimisation of children in the developed world.

These events not only focused attention on the quality and safety of toys more widely, but also exposed the vulnerability of the off-shore sector of western toy companies extended supply chains, in these cases located in China. That is not to say that China was responsible for all these toy hazards and as the crisis evolved, later events would cast a shadow over certain Western toy companies which produced millions of defective magnetic toys, for which China was blamed, but not responsible.

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Key concerns arising from the crises were product quality and safety, the appropriateness of self-regulation in the toy sector and the capacity of the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission (USCPSC) to protect America’s children from unsafe products. The Commission was subjected to domestic and global scrutiny and was widely criticised by different groups (e.g. media, consumer advocates) but more particularly politicians as being under-resourced, underfunded and ineffective, as having an antiquated testing laboratory, a poor inspection presence at the border, and being too close to the industries they regulated.

Which Toxins? The toy toxins were four-fold: 1.

unlawful use of lead in the surface paint of wooden and metal toys and/or

components of toys; 2.

lawful use of rare earth magnets that dislodged from poorly designed toys,

causing serious injuries to children when two or more were ingested 3.

lawful (at the time) use of phthalates (thall-eights), chemicals used to

make PVC toys soft but which are suspected of being endocrine disrupters (that is, they interfere with the body’s hormone system); and 4.

unlawful use of a toxic industrial chemical in Bindeez™ art and craft

beads that metabolised in children’s bodies as the date-rape drug GHB.

These contaminants and components migrated from toys during use into children’s home and community play settings. In some cases the threat was twopronged. For instance, PVC toys contain both phthalates (plasticisers) and sometimes also lead and cadmium (heavy metals) where these are used to stabilise the plastic. The fate of these contaminants and components, whether

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free or embedded in a product is also problematic. Toxic toys (and other adulterated products) are as much an ecological issue as they are a public health issue because it is inevitable that these products (and what they release) will end up in the environment. This approach is consistent with Walters (2009:9) reference to ‘contemporary discourses in green criminology [that] continue to engage with and critique acts that damage and destroy the environment’. For these reasons, I argue that toy companies should extend the narrow focus on toy safety to the wider context of sustainable environmental practices at home and abroad, by considering: •

the lifecycle harm(s) associated with what goes into toys (e.g., chemicals

to make plastic soft; magnets that snap toy pieces together); •

how the processes involved in creating, extracting, and processing

contaminants

and

components

contributes

to

biological,

social

and

environmental harms (e.g. chemical extraction of rare earth materials used to make magnets; fossil-fuel burning petro-chemical industry providing the building blocks (benzene) to manufacture synthetic chemicals like Bisphenol A (BPA) used in some hard plastic baby bottles; life-cycle emissions from the production of toy materials (e.g. the PVC manufacturing process); •

the behavior of substances during consumption (e.g., migration of

phthalates and heavy metals from PVC toys); •

the effects on children (e.g., potential poisoning, reproductive and

developmental disorders); •

the fate of the substances (e.g. lead) and components (e.g. magnets, button

cell batteries) and the toys themselves at disposal (e.g., incineration, landfill), and •

the toxic legacy for current and future generations (e.g., emissions to air,

water and soil). Toxic toys pollute children’s bodies and sometimes also the


bodies of foreign workers, the places where children live, learn work and play, and the spaces of nature in unsustainable ways. Toxic toys (and toxic products more widely) represent a serious area of study for green criminologists within the context of corporate deviancy and strategies of denial. For green criminologists it is important to examine the chains of harm generated by the upstream emissions associated with extraction (e.g. lead smelting, mining of rare earth materials), processing (e.g. into lead paint, into magnets); consumption (lead and rare earth magnets migrating from toys); mechanisms of disposal for toxic products (e.g. incineration, landfill, recycling); the emission of greenhouse gases (e.g. dioxins, methane gases) and global climate change (e.g. warming of the planet).

Which Perpetrators? The offenders in these case studies were toy mainly large toy companies (although smaller companies were not exempt) headquartered in the developed world and their supply chain partners in the developing world, in this case China. Those high-profile companies directly implicated in the lead-related toy recalls included American toy companies RC2 Corporation for Thomas & Friends™ wooden railway sets, Schylling Inc for Thomas™, Curious George™ and Circus™ spinning tops and pails and Fisher-Price, a Mattel Inc wholly owned subsidiary, for Dora the Explorer™ and other character toys. The two major companies implicated in magnet related recalls Canadian toy giant Mega Bloks (now Mega Brands Canada) and its American arm Rose Art Industries (now Mega Brands America) for Magnetix™ construction sets and the world’s largest toy company, Mattel Inc, for Polly Pocket™ play sets and other toys. Mattel Inc was the only company implicated in both lead and magnet-related recalls.

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Which Offence? The production and distribution of toxic products is typically labelled a ‘crisis’ by offenders. However, these are, as Croall (2008, 2009, 2010) notes, ‘crimes against consumers’ and while less high profile than the mass deaths associated with work they are not systematically counted. In 2011, in the United States alone, thirteen children died from toy-related injuries, twelve of them under 12 years of age. An estimated 262,300 children of all ages were treated for toyrelated injuries in U.S. hospital emergency departments, 193,200 younger than 15 years of age, 184,100 12 years of age or younger and 92,200 younger than five years of age (Yongling 2011: 3) In the United Kingdom, Croall (2010: 172) cites the UK consumer association “Which?” (2004) as reporting that ‘seven people each year are killed by unrecalled unsafe products’. The hazards found in children’s toys are representative of just some of the toxic harms flowing across borders and the role the global supply chain and distribution network plays (as only one conduit) in the transference of toxic harms. This was part of a wider study conceptualising and mapping the movement of different toxic harms across the world, not only via the mechanisms of globalisation (e.g. globalisation of trade, conduit of the supply chain) but also by the forces of nature (air and sea currents). It is a reminder of how the actions and activities of individuals and companies in one part of the world can have serious implications for people, places and natural landscapes in other parts of the world, often geographically and morally distant from the countries in which those products are consumed. It is the hands that make the toys (mostly in the developing world) which are also exposed to supply chain toxins like lead and whose local natural environment stands to be polluted.

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Some of these toxins manifest in non-specific symptoms making diagnosis problematic (e.g. chemicals like phthalates); some inflict deadly injuries (e.g. rare earth magnets, button cell batteries), others manifest in evolving health concerns over time (e.g. lead) and others leave victims with lingering aftereffects (e.g. industrial chemicals like diethylene glycol) that significantly impede quality of life, deprive people of their livelihoods and/or retard the capacity of victims (especially children) to reach their full potential. As previously pointed out, in their trajectory across the world toxic products leave behind a trail of harm, the invisibility of which is not only reflected in the contaminants themselves, but also in their pattern of victimisation (e.g. boys and girls, the very elderly, foreign workers and the infirm).

The production of toxic harms Toys containing lead and rare earth magnets were manufactured locally (in China), distributed globally, consumed in multiple countries (e.g. Australia, United States, Canada), and disposed of in local tips or incinerators in the countries of destination (or, sometimes, in other developing countries). Although toxic harm is dispersed globally via the supply chain and distribution network, victimisation is experienced most acutely at the local level. The people who made the toys were factory workers in Guangdong Province (China), those who played with the toys were children in different towns, provinces, cities and communities across the world; the contaminated toys were deposited in landfills (or perhaps incinerated) in proximity to certain people in communities. Legislation may prevent companies from transferring toxic toys to other countries, but it is less clear whether they are prevented from transferring their waste (e.g. lead contaminated toys constitute hazardous waste). For instance, a

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media report in The New York Times (Barboza and Story 22/12/2007) suggests at least some of Mattel’s lead-contaminated toys ended up ‘at a toxic waste disposal site near Mexico city’ (Barboza and Story 22/12/2007). In this type of commercial and production context, only certain types of regulation will prevent these types of incidents from recurring. What is required is a holistic approach to supply chain management, one that not only focuses on ‘relationship building’ across continents, oceans and cultures, but also involves enforcement, monitoring and verification of specifications and standards. A supporting strategy might consider a fairer system of profit-sharing that does not penalise developing countries and that acknowledges and pays for the export emissions (pollution by foreign companies) of local people and their built and natural environments.

Cultural Influences It is conceivable that a Guanxi approach to business, described broadly by Teagarden (2007: 13) as ‘insiders obligations to one another’, may have facilitated the admission of local Chinese contract factories into the extended toy supply chain that produced leaded toys. Even so, Western toy companies took their eye off risk management and quality assurance in their extended supply chains, relying instead on relationships of ‘trust’ (with their suppliers) rather than rigorous processes. The production of lead-contaminated toys is as much about arms-length governance and Western toy companies as ‘outsiders’ in the microcosms of capitalism and democracy that artificially exist in special economic zones like Guangdong province, as it is about procedures and processes.

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In this context Western toy companies became ‘outsiders’ in a network of ‘insiders’ who unofficially became a part of their supply chains, apparently without their knowledge. Perhaps they always were ‘outsiders’ and it is relationships across oceans, continents and cultures that require re-working as much as the systems and processes that failed children everywhere who were exposed to toxic toys. This illustrates the downside of globalisation in action and the risks inherent in extended supply chains, particularly in the context of a world in the grip of economic, military and social conflict that can cause significant disruption to the off-shore (or international) components of a supply chain.

Ultimately, toy corporations are responsible for risk management, security and governance in their extended supply chains as well as the quality of the brands they market and the safety of the toys they produce. What off-shoring does is provide a buffer between the company (on-shore in the West) and the hazard produced (off-shore in the East). It also demonstrates that transnational corporations only have so much influence when something goes wrong in another country (where they have manufacturing facilities), where there are differing political, philosophical, and economic views of the world and where quite different business cultures (e.g. Western versus Guanxi) can influence what happens on the ground.

Controlling the harm What these cases have demonstrated is just how difficult it is to manage not only the hazards themselves, but also the ‘relationships’ (political, economic, corporate and jurisdictional) that arise when something goes wrong in a part of the world where a transnational company has no real jurisdiction. Questions that

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arise in this context include: What are the origins of the harm? Who was harmed? Who is responsible? Who will pay? Who will insure the harm? For example, in these cases the lead paint originated in China, it was sprayed on the toys by Chinese workers, but the toys injured children in multiple countries where they were consumed and polluted the local environments where they were disposed of.

When harm occurs beyond geographical, cultural and jurisdictional boundaries, new strategies need to be developed to address both the global and local dimensions of the harm. This means governments, corporations and regulators with sometimes very different views about what has happened, who knew and when, and what they did with that knowledge - are forced together under crisis circumstances to try and resolve the issues. In the end, no amount of border surveillance or increased regulation will prevent adulterated products from transferring across borders. Surveillance can only hope to catch a tiny proportion of contaminated products and regulation can only protect consumers if companies are willing to divulge product hazards to the regulator in a timely way, and the regulator to consumers.

Downplaying the harm The tendency is for companies to downplay concerns about the toxicity of products, to ‘claim that chemicals are used in tiny amounts and pose no health threat’ however the concern is ‘the ‘cocktail’ effect of combinations of chemicals’ (Croall 2009:134; see also Smith and Lourie 2009). In the context of transference what is in a toy matters, as does the whole chain of toxicity from origin to disposal (and beyond). This includes upstream (e.g. extraction and processing), midstream (e.g. manufacturing and packaging) and downstream

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(distribution, consumption and disposal) emissions in the case of lead and rare earth magnets. At disposal, both these objects (whether free or embedded in products) constitute hazardous waste and their most likely end-of-life destination is landfill either because parents find it too onerous to return them (and so put them in the household trash) or returned recalled items are disposed of en masse, either way contributing to greenhouse gas emission and ultimately climate change. From a green criminology perspective what is in a toy, what migrates from a toy and where contaminated toys (and other products) are disposed of, matters. Toxic products have biological (e.g. ingested lead poisons small bodies in particular, ingested magnets perforate intestines, ingested button cell batteries burn holes in the oesophagus); social (e.g. children in the developing world live and work on e-waste recycling dumps where some of these products end up; children in developed and developing communities who are already living with lead in their communities); and ecological repercussions for present and future generations (e.g. burgeoning landfills, contaminated incinerator ash, emissions to air, water and soil, greenhouse gas emissions ).

In response to these types of harms (e.g. toxic toys) there appears to be a scripted set of responses and strategies on the part of those doing the harm. At one level toy companies may have been unaware of the systemic outsourcing and subcontracting practices occurring in the manufacturing sector of their extended supply chains. Nonetheless, they were already testing for leaded paint which presupposes that leaded paint was a known risk in this particular manufacturing hub. However, the ‘sameness’ of their responses (e.g. corrective action that revamped or strengthened existing processes rather than introducing new innovations) is symptomatic of protecting corporate reputational assets (e.g.

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image, brand reputation) as key priorities, rather than dealing with harm to victims per se.

Recurring Questions A number of recurring questions arose during the global toy-related recalls, and these are summarised below: What took so long? This question was asked by politicians, the media, advocacy groups and consumers alike. Typically this related to the timelines of disclosure between company and regulator (e.g. noncompliance with the mandatory 24 hour reporting timeframe for a product hazard) and between the regulator and the public (e.g. timeliness of official recall alerts). As more and more information filtered into the public domain, politicians and consumers became disillusioned and frustrated by these time lags, particularly since they unnecessarily exposed children to unsafe toys. Which toys? Some recall alerts contained ambiguous or confusing wording, so that consumers and retailers alike found themselves asking, ‘which toys’? In some instances, toxic and non-toxic toys were packaged together (e.g. RC2’s Thomas toys), in other instances, consumers were unsure which toys were being recalled due to issues surrounding differentiating new improved versions from old versions (e.g. in the case of Magnetix™ building sets).

Why are the toys still out there? Reports of toys still on store shelves in the aftermath of the recalls were common, some toys were found on internet sites well after the official recall date. There were fears too, that recalled toys would turn up in informal markets like second-hand and charity outlets as well as market stalls and this created challenges for the larger charities. Knock-off toys were also a concern especially with respect to Magnetix™ building sets.

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How many incidents and injuries? Issues of delayed disclosure, non-disclosure and partial disclosure compromised the safety of children and made it more difficult for the regulator to assess the true nature and scale of the hazard. This was particularly relevant in the case of magnets where both Mega Brands (for Magnetix™ and Mattel (for Polly Pocket™ ) concealed important incident information, albeit in different ways: Rose Art/Mega Brands by withholding incident and injury data, and Mattel Inc by settling an injury case (that occurred in July 2005) behind closed doors, well before a child died from magnets that dislodged from a competitor’s toy in November 2005. Who is to blame? Which country, which company, which brands, whose standards and whose specifications, were all issues on the table. But, in practice, assigning blame was politically fraught and blame-shifting was commonplace. Western toy companies blamed Chinese manufacturers for magnets dislodging from toys until it became obvious that the fault lay with poorly designed toys in the West.

Who will compensate the victims? This especially becomes an issue when the origins of the adulteration (e.g. lead) occur in one country but the harm to consumers (children) occurs in multiple countries. The forgotten victims are the Chinese workers who unknowingly sprayed millions of toys with paint containing lead (with or without the required protective equipment) and their local natural environment, given the potential release of contaminated wastewater. In the case of rare earth magnets the forgotten victims are unknown numbers of children who endured unnecessary suffering and the ones we don’t know about, particularly in the developing world.

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Where are the toys now? The topic of disposal of contaminated products (e.g. finished toys) was raised in the media, but the issue of the disposal of contaminated raw materials (e.g. lead paint and paint pigment in China) was not widely discussed, at least not in the Western media.). Given the nature of both lead-contaminated toys and toys containing rare earth magnets, both constitute hazardous wastes (especially when disposed of en masse as in following a recall) and need to be disposed of with care, to avoid pollution of the environment.

Who knew and when? and what did they do with that knowledge? Moreover, who knew and when and what they did with that knowledge is critical to understanding what happened. In the face of official allegations, companies typically denied that they ‘knowingly’ produced and distributed unsafe toys into the stream of commerce. Although toy companies did not ‘knowingly’ produce toxic toys, they did have ‘knowledge’ that lead paint was a risk in their extended supply chains, especially in China, verified by the fact that they were testing for it in their supply chains. In the case of magnets both Rose Art/Mega Brands and Mattel were aware of a trail of early warnings and near misses (including injuries sustained by a child from a Polly Pocket™ play set in July 2005 (see Oppenheimer 2009: 228-229 for full details of this case) and the death of an American child from a Magnetix™ building set (in November 2005). Both these incidents occurred well before the first official recall for Magnetix™ (in March 2006) (USCPSC 2006a).and the first official recall for Polly Pocket™ play sets (in November 2006) (USCPSC Release 2006b). Both companies were aware that certain of their toys had seriously harmed children (with known incidents dating back to early January 2004 in Rose Art/Mega Brand’s case and at least July 2005 in Mattel’s case) and they knew the specific nature of those injuries (e.g. multiple magnet ingestion resulting in intestinal perforation). What they did

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with this knowledge was to either delay disclosure (both companies breaching the 24 hour reporting rule), outright deny they had the requested incident and injury data and/or drip-feed information to the regulator (in Rose Art/Mega Brand’s case). As a result consumers were the last to find out about the hazards, except in the case of lead-contaminated spinning tops and pails, when the media blew the whistle, although they did advise the company (Schylling Inc) of their findings in advance.

How can things be different? Although the shift from voluntary to mandatory standards for toys is admirable, no amount of regulation or surveillance at the border will prevent further instances of the adulteration of toys with lead (or other toxins). These issues must be dealt with at their source and involve cooperation between toy companies and their supply chain partners in the first instance to put in place rigorous enforcement, monitoring and verification processes that are free from corruption. Greater attention also needs to be paid to what is in a toy (at both design and development phases of the supply chain), in terms of what can gain mobility and migrate from that toy whether that be toxic contaminants like lead, cadmium and phthalates (chemicals to make plastic soft) or rare earths - the world’s most powerful magnets.

In this respect, toy companies might consider building the concept of transference into their risk management toolbox (e.g. consider the potential mobility of what is in a toy, what a toy is made from, as well as the toy itself). Consumers have a right to be alerted swiftly to product hazards, especially those that have the potential to kill (like rare earth magnets and button cell batteries). They have a right to know what is in a product and what might potentially

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migrate from that product, so they can make an informed choice about whether they want to buy it or not.

Improved communication between toy companies and the organisations that comprise their extended supply chains (driven from parent company CEO level down) as well as awareness and respect for cultural difference (both ideological and commercial) would help smooth the flow of non-toxic products. Communicating standards, specifications and expectations in the language of the country where those products are made (e.g. in this case China) would also assist as well as building a shared vision for keeping toys safe for children everywhere (not just children in the West), and more especially for poor children and children living with (and sometimes working with) lead and other harmful toxins in their everyday environments. For these latter children, a little bit of something in a toy represents another layer of poison. Implementing systems of reward (e.g. profit-sharing incentives for product quality) might also encourage greater commitment to product safety. Western toy companies have the know-how and resources to continuously improve the safety of their products wherever they are made and sold. I can’t help wondering that if magnets were dislodging from new toys at the point of consumption, this may also have been occurring when toys were being assembled and packaged at the point of manufacture. Encouraging a culture of transparency throughout the supply chain where workers (in China) could bring this type of anomaly to management attention (without incurring a punitive response), and where Chinese supply chain contractors could immediately alert the toy company in the West (perhaps through an electronic alert) without being penalised (e.g. cancellation of their contract), might go some way to reducing the

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‘them and us’ scenario, especially when things go wrong, fostering a culture of ‘disclosure’ rather than ‘denial’. Regulatory agencies too need to be able to have sufficient leverage to take the upper hand when dealing with corporate misconduct, and fines ought to reflect not only the seriousness of the conduct, but also be proportionate to the corporate purse as well as reflecting

the

severity, scale and duration of victim suffering. Fines ought to encourage desistance rather than deterrence and recidivism should attach an additional penalty.

Conclusion The issue of toxic contaminants and deadly components in children’s toys is still on the public radar. Lead, rare earth magnets and button cell batteries are not new and emerging harms. Rather they are old and unresolved harms (e.g. lead has been banned in paint for over thirty years; the medical literature on the dangers of rare earth magnets and button cell batteries dates back at least two decades). However, these toxic contaminants and deadly components continue to kill and seriously injure children. For instance, in December 2011, an 18 month old Australian boy died after ingesting twelve magnets from a novelty desk toy (these toys along with pierce-free magnetic jewellery was banned in Australia in November 2012). In February 2013, United States Customs and Border Protection officers and U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission investigators seized 30,000 lead-contaminated toys at the Port of San Juan, Puerto Rico (CBP.gov 2013). Most recently, in June 2013, a four year old Australian girl died after ingesting a button cell battery from an unknown product that burned a hole in her oesophagus (Donaghey, Brisbane Courier Mail, 3/7/2013). We do not know how many children around the world have died or been injured by toxic contaminants and deadly components migrating from toys and other


products. A compelling question is when does a cluster of similar or identical incidents, in disparate countries across the world, constitute a statistic of concern? There is a dearth of global statistics on product-related deaths and injuries more widely, and the number of children who have died or been injured by leaded toys, rare earth magnets or button cell batteries is unknown. Those statistics we do have are largely silent on the victimisation of children in the developing world. We need much more detailed information concerning these types of incidents in a global database that can be used to generate comparative data and sustain longitudinal studies.

Global political economy provides the overarching context within which harm to our children occurs. But, in the end, it does not excuse those responsible for what is, after all, human-induced harm. Toxic toys are an issue that is fundamentally a matter of environmental justice. But as this paper has highlighted, toxic toys can also have ecological consequences. As such, these types of commercial (or business-as-usual) harms ought to be studied by critical and green criminologists alike, taking into consideration questions of deviancy, power, ownership, control – and resistance. Exposing the harm of perpetrators and their techniques of neutralisation is important, as is preventing such harms. After all, in the case of toxic toys, it is the health and wellbeing of our children and our children’s children that is at stake.

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