Beyond tokenism: a call for environmental justice
For decades, mainstream environmental debates have been framed between climate denialism versus traditional environmentalism. Now, political and public discourse has finally started to integrate environmental justice into the lexicon of the socially conscious. Proponents of Environmental Justice (EJ) argue that equitable and sustainable environmental solutions can only be achieved through a radical shift away from extractive economies, systematic violence, and labour exploitation. Such a shift requires putting power in the hands of those exploited—those disproportionately affected by pollution, oppression, and discrimination. Despite its recent rise in popularity, EJ is not a new concept, but a grassroots movement that began in the 1980s. Communities organised around the unjust burden of industry, pollution, and toxic waste faced by lower-income people of colour, but also brought together labour and housing issues that were not part of the traditional wilderness-preservation mission of mainstream environmentalism. Through decades of organising, EJ has arrived at this critical moment where intersectional solutions are needed and it seems that people are finally willing to listen. However, with equity and environmentalism as the buzz words of the moment, EJ runs the risk of being tokenized without meaningfully shifting power to those who have been impacted in climate vulnerable countries, migrant communities, and politically and economically oppressed groups.
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A core tenet of the ‘Jemez Principles for Democratic Organizing’, chartered in 1996 at Southwest Network for Environmental and Economic Justice, is that communities speak for themselves; their lived experiences are valuable sources of information that must be considered in order to craft solutions that work. These are powerful and difficult values to hold organisations accountable to, especially as many of them are seizing this moment to opportunistically rebrand and co-opt the language of equity and decolonisation. In these muddying waters, EJ advocates are fighting hard to make sure that their community narratives are being centred and that climate solutions are led by the people who have been impacted the most. It is critical that voices representing EJ and equity really are coming from activists and community members themselves because decision makers can’t afford to lose or dilute their experiences any further than they already have.
“It is critical that voices representing EJ and equity really are coming from activists and community members themselves because decision makers can’t afford to lose or dilute their experiences any further than they already have.”
Around the world, environmental justice issues take root in various ways. In the United States, the Asian Pacific Environmental Network organises in several locations, one of which is Richmond, California. Richmond is home to a vibrant Laotian refugee community. Having just escaped a war, many who moved there weren’t aware that the Richmond Chevron refinery and over 350 other toxic facilities were in their vicinity. Residents experienced high rates of asthma, cancer, and babies delivered with low birth weight—issues which have known links to sources of pollution.
Recently, the refinery flared for two days—a toxic process in which flammable gases are burned off—causing particle pollution and the release of carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides, heavy metals, and black carbon. Despite research pointing to these health impacts, Chevron and other fossil fuel industries continually spend millions to lobby for relaxed regulation, fuel standards, and other measures that would protect community health. In 2020, the United States Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) bent to industry pressure and signed into effect a memorandum that allowed corporations, like Chevron, more freedom to self-regulate by relaxing non-compliance enforcement.
This begs the question of whose lives our social and economic systems value, and whether corporate interests and profits come before people. Denny Khamphanthong, a Richmond resident and community organiser, often raises the alert about these flaring events on his social media. Guerrilla reporting is one of the best ways to keep a record and log these events for the California Environmental Protection Agency, a local regulatory body. However, regulation is often a response to damage that has been done and does not resolve the root of the problem—that corporations are incentivised to value profits over people’s health. In a caption to a video of the recent flaring, Denny writes
“This is the view of Chevron flaring from Stanton & Minor Ave at 10:09 PM. Chevron has been flaring non stop for the past two days leaving a heavy smell of … sulfuric acid (rotten eggs) all over Richmond & San Pablo. … Once Chevron has another big explosion they'll just leave town and wipe It's [sic] hand clean of Richmond unless we act now. I'm tired of seeing Richmond and communities across the world suffer the direct impacts of pollution in the name of capitalism. Our communities are not sacrifice zones for profits … . We need to shut this shit down now!”
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In climate vulnerable countries in the Global South such as the Philippines, the issue of environmental justice is a systemic concern that often involves relationships with powerful corporations and more developed nations. The Philippines is one of the most climate vulnerable countries in the world, but according to one market study it is also the third largest contributor to plastic waste entering the oceans each year. However, simply blaming the country for not caring about the environment does little to address the underlying issues.
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A report has shown that nearly half of all plastic pollution in the Philippines comes from just three multinational companies: Universal Robina Corporation (URC), Nestlé, and Colgate-Palmolive. Over 90% of the plastics collected during clean-up operations were non-recyclable, especially the single-use sachets that are often relied upon by poverty-stricken populations for items of everyday use. These include personal care products, such as shampoo and soap; or foods, such as small snacks and treats, which many can’t afford to buy in bulk or in larger (and more recyclable) packaging. The Philippines also receives shipments of plastics and other waste from developed countries such as Canada. Due to the lack of recycling infrastructure, these types of waste often end up in landfill sites, or worse yet, in our waters. However, the companies and countries responsible for this situation rarely face accountability. Moreover, they do little to help address the issues of waste or recycling, leaving local governments, environmental groups, and affected communities to manage the mess alone.
The Philippines has experienced three of the world’s most powerful tropical typhoons within just the last eight years, causing billions of dollars in damage to property and livelihoods, and the loss of many lives. The Philippines did not reach this point in the climate crisis on its own—it had the (lack of) support of developed nations and massive corporations, who all failed to do their part in addressing the issues that they helped bring about.
The world is now turning its attention to COP26 where the parties gather to propose guidelines and accelerate actions to tackle the climate crisis. No doubt there will be plenty of rhetoric around equity and justice, but until the voices for environmental justice are actually raised up in the halls of the Scottish Event Campus and in decision making spaces around the world, rhetoric will remain rhetoric. In committing to decisive climate action, representatives at COP26, and local leaders around the world need to think critically about the narratives they listen to. It is essential that they identify, include, and take leadership from local groups who directly experience environmental inequities.