Abstract
Both rural regions and urban communities of color are often the target for unwanted land uses in the United States. However, although both types of communities will often organize resistance to the siting of environmentally hazardous facilities within their region, the frames that the activists use may differ dramatically. In this study, we examine a case study of environmental conflict over a proposed industrial hog farm in northern Wisconsin. We use that conflict to explore the claims making and rhetoric employed by the rural, predominantly white resistance. We argue that although communities of color and urban communities tend to utilize the environmental justice frame to understand and represent their resistance to unwanted land uses, rural communities that are predominantly white may instead frame their own resistance as a defense of rural identity and place. This study makes important contributions to our understanding of rural ideology and the environmental justice movement.
INTRODUCTION
Rural communities in the United States face many issues in the 21st Century. Both globalization and the deindustrialization of the United States economy have strongly impacted rural economies, often reducing employment opportunities and leaving “rural ghettos” in their stead, where under-employment, drug abuse, and lack of social services are prevalent. 1 Rural areas tend to have higher rates of household poverty when compared with urban areas and face an array of health problems. 2 In addition, adults living in rural areas are less likely to have obtained bachelor's degrees and are more likely to have served in the armed forces. 3
Rural regions are also often the targets of undesirable land uses. With less people and more space, utilitarian logic can lead to the conclusion that rural communities are the ideal repositories for hazards and wastes. 4 In addition, rural regions are often viewed as possessing less capacity for resisting such land uses. Indeed, polluting industries or government agencies can use the incentive of providing needed jobs, tax base, and infrastructure as a leverage point to convince rural areas to accept unwanted land uses. 5
However, although some residents may actively encourage such development, 6 , 7 other residents can be opposed to potentially hazardous facilities and activists frequently organize against the siting of such facilities nearby. 8 In many ways, these conflicts can be classified as instances of environmental injustice, as a powerful outsider (typically a corporation or government agency) is attempting to externalize the environmental costs of a land use onto a less-powerful rural community while siphoning off the economic benefits to urban centers. 9
In this study, we argue that although rurality constitutes an important dimension of environmental inequality, predominantly white rural activists and organizations who mobilize to defend rural communities from unwanted land uses may avoid using environmental justice language to understand and frame their concerns. Instead, rural environmental resistance can be framed in a more culturally resonant manner as a defense of rural landscape, identity, sense of place, and way of life.
To support this argument, we consider a case study in which a predominantly white, working-class rural community in Northern Wisconsin successfully resisted the siting of a Confined Animal Feeding Operation (CAFO). This work answers the call for increased exploration of rural instances of environmental injustice. 10 , 11 We also contribute to the broad theorizing of environmental justice activism and the environmental justice movement by exploring the intersection of rural ideology, identity, and culture with environmental activism.
Background: rural consciousness and environmental justice
The contemporary study of environmental justice is typically traced back to a few early studies that examined the correlation of environmental harms and communities of color 12 , 13 and the pioneering work of Robert Bullard. 14 , 15 The actual term “environmental justice” and its associated meanings emerged from grassroots struggles over toxic contamination. 16
Its use in interpreting and framing specific environmental conflicts serves to invoke a broader social justice frame, in which marginalized groups and communities are unfairly denied their civil rights due to their relative lack of power. “Environmental justice is premised on the notion that the rights of toxic contamination victims have been systematically usurped by more powerful social actors, and that ‘justice’ resides in the return of these rights.” 17
This understanding of justice conforms to John Rawls' notion of “justice as fairness,” in which justice represents equal treatment of all members of a society by that society's laws and institutions. 18 , 19 As the Civil Rights Movement was a struggle against the unfair denial of legal rights to people of color, the environmental justice movement is a struggle against the unfair burdening of marginalized people with a disproportion share of environmental hazards.
As a constructed frame, the idea of environmental justice provides movement activists and affected communities with a way of understanding environmental hazards and their associated conflicts. In addition, it provides a conceptual tool for presenting the contamination as an instance of injustice, in which the principle of fairness has been violated in the political and/or regulatory process.
Presenting these conflicts in such a manner garners broad sympathy and gives activists moral justification, as those fighting against the environmental hazard are being framed as the advocates of justice. However, the utility of any frame is dependent on its cultural resonance, or the degree to which it connects to broader cultural themes and appeals to specific identities or social locations. 20 , 21 The environmental justice frame carries strong associations with the Civil Rights Movement and the master frame of rights and justice that characterized that movement. 22
Similarly, this frame is fundamentally linked to the concept of environmental racism: “the process by which environmental decisions, actions, and policies result in racial discrimination.” 23 Indeed, “racism has been at the heart of environmental justice discourse in the United States.” 24 Therefore, the idea of environmental justice is culturally resonant with individuals and communities that are comfortable acknowledging racial injustice. However, it may lack cultural resonance with predominantly white rural communities who are potentially uncomfortable with the notion of systematic disadvantage or oppression.
Although rural and urban areas in the United States have become increasingly integrated, important distinctions persist, particularly in matters of identity and ideology. 25 The 2016 U.S. presidential election illuminated the stark cultural divide between rural and urban America. People residing in rural areas in the United States tend to treat rurality as an identity and lens through which they interpret and understand social phenomena. 26
Wuthnow demonstrates the analytical utility of characterizing rural areas as moral communities, in which members feel a strong sense of place-bound identity and loyalty to one another as well as to the traditional norms and values that characterize the region. 27 Although there is considerable variation among different rural identities, as a whole they tend to be characterized by a strong work ethic, conservative family values, strong religious beliefs, and a high degree of patriotism. 28
Rural culture also often contains strong norms of personal responsibility and places a high value on independence and self-sufficiency. 29 , 30 In addition, many rural people contend that their lives involve more community and are closer to nature relative to their urban counterparts. 31 Rural residents tend to have a stronger sense of “place identity” relative to urban dwellers, 32 , 33 as the natural environment is more integrated in rural place- and meaning-making.
Together, these values and norms coalesce into a distinct rural consciousness, or sense that rural people are fundamentally different than urban folks in terms of lifestyle and culture. 34 , 35 This consciousness can contain a strong us-versus-them mentality and feelings of exclusion or resentment against perceived “urban elites” and notions of government regulation. 36 , 37 In the case of rural communities, us-versus-them framing can involve spatial and demographic characteristics, each of which emphasizes othering social groups that are less prevalent in rural communities (e.g., people of color; sexual and gender minorities; wealthy urbanites). 38 , 39
The construction of rural identity is essential to understanding why white, working-class rural folks and communities can perceive the unequal distribution of environmental hazards but not necessarily use justice frames to understand or interpret it. In essence, the environmental justice frame may lack cultural resonance with certain elements of rural consciousness and identity. With 80% of the rural population being white, 40 there can be a lack of identification with the environmental justice frame's roots in the Civil Rights Movement and environmental racism. Indeed, although rural people express grievances, due to their lack of historical marginalized status, they may not see themselves as participating in “justice activism,” 41 but instead defending their way of life.
In fact, rural people and lifestyles are often devalued relative to their urban counterparts, suffering from misrecognition. In this sense, rural people and communities may feel misunderstood or mistreated, but they do not necessarily feel that they are being deprived of any fundamental rights or privileges. Therefore, they do not conceptualize their grievances as instances of injustice.
Instead, white rural activists may frame environmental conflicts around issues of community identity, economic benefits/risks, land degradation, and insider/outsider logic. 42 , 43 Cultural emphasis on hard work and personal responsibility contributes to complex discursive treatment of environmentally hazardous facilities in rural spaces. Rather than appeals to a broad notion of justice, rural activists can be more likely to discuss unwanted land uses in terms of lack of suitability to the local community and its traditions and identity.
As rural people perceive themselves to be closer to nature, 44 it makes sense that their interpretations of their natural surroundings, or “sense of place,” 45 are closely tied to community identity. In this way, threats to natural features are seen as threats to “sense of place,” and, by extension, threats to the fabric of the community itself.
Of course, there are cases where rural communities also do not see threats to nature as problematic, for example in Arlie Hochschild's work in the Louisiana bayou 46 or in Stephanie Malin's work on acceptance of neoliberal rationality in extractive communities. 47 In these instances, activists may not be able to successfully frame the struggle in a way that resonates with rural identity, or the industry in question may be too closely embedded in community identity. 48
In addition, in rural settings, opponents of specific environmental hazards can be more likely to rely on the us-versus-them mentality and frame the dispute as an issue of local sovereignty. These alternative framing strategies have been documented in rural conflicts over frac sand mining in western Wisconsin, 49 hydraulic fracking in rural Pennsylvania, 50 and industrial-style hog farming in Arkansas 51 and northern Wisconsin. 52
An exemplary case dealt with proposed iron mines in Northern Minnesota, where locals diverged in terms of interpretation of the proposal; different sets of residents used distinct cultural repertoires to interpret the proposals as fitting local economic identity or as a threat to the natural beauty and security of the place. 53 In such struggles, and in this case, who counts as “local” is essential to the eventual outcome of the conflict.
In all of these cases, the rural activists fighting the unwanted land use did not evoke the environmental justice frame, but instead relied on rhetoric surrounding the preservation of community identity and local autonomy. We do not claim that these dynamics are uniform and universal across all instances of rural environmental injustice, but rather suggest that similar struggles may express analogous framing in their discourse.
METHODS
This study is based on 19 semi-structured interviews with different stakeholders involved in an environmental conflict in Bayfield County, Wisconsin. Interviews were conducted with local government officials, community activists and organizers, residents, and journalists. The research protocol for this project was approved by the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse's Institutional Review Board (IRB#5-6892). These interviews took place between October 2016 and July 2017. We used a responsive approach to our semi-structured interviews, approaching them as organic conversations. 54
Interviews lasted between 15 minutes and 2.5 hours, with the vast majority of interviews being roughly 45 minutes in duration. We identified initial interview subjects from reading state and local news articles regarding the proposed CAFO. Afterward, we used snowball sampling to further our interview pool. We concluded the interview process when we reached saturation of thematic content in our conversations. Interviews were recorded and transcribed verbatim.
RESULTS AND DISCUSSION: RURAL IDENTITY AND ENVIRONMENTAL JUSTICE FRAMING
Case study
Our case study takes place in Bayfield and Ashland Counties in Northern Wisconsin near Lake Superior. The area is rural and predominantly white (85%). Ashland ($42,510) and Bayfield ($56,096) Counties also have below-average median household incomes relative to the State of Wisconsin ($61,747). 55 Both counties are political anomalies in the region, as they have voted for Democratic nominees for President since 1972.
Moreover, each county attracts “transplants,” or individuals from larger cities (such as Minneapolis, MN or Chicago, IL) who move to the region for its natural beauty, isolated setting, and emphasis on community. Often, transplants are relatively well educated, progressive, and are involved in local movement organizing. In 2014, an industrial hog corporation, Reicks View Farms, sought to locate a farrowing operation in Bayfield County.
Reicks, based in Iowa, were looking for new agricultural venues due to outbreaks of Porcine Epidemic Diarrhea occurring in Iowa at the time. According to their initial application for a Wisconsin Pollutant Discharge Elimination System permit, the site would house more than 26,000 hogs. 56
Given that there were no facilities of this scale in the area, a number of local residents organized against the proposed CAFO, raising concerns about how air and water pollution could threaten public health and the tourist industry. These collective concerns facilitated the formation of an activist organization, Farms Not Factories (FNF). FNF was the center of the resistance efforts, organizing regular potluck meetings to maintain community ties and provide updates to residents, holding meetings and events to spread information about the dangers of CAFOs, and encouraging political participation to stop Reicks' proposal.
There was substantial and contentious debate about the CAFO, with packed county board meetings filled with residents eager to voice their concerns. A survey determined that most locals were concerned about the proposed CAFO's potential impacts on air, water, odors, fishing, and tourism, yet they were most concerned about it fostering divisions in the community. 57 In early 2015, the Bayfield County Board passed a year-long moratorium on CAFOs and organized a Large-Scale Livestock Study Committee. 58 A few years after the moratorium, Reicks' land in Bayfield County was put up for sale and their file for a permit was closed by the Department of Natural Resources, signaling the success of FNF and the resistance.
Framing environmental injustice in Bayfield County, Wisconsin
Here, we analyze the frames deployed by activists in the Bayfield conflict, who were commonly (but not always) white, middle-class people who had moved to the area from urban centers, and who drew on rural culture and identity in their framing of the struggle to fend off the unwanted CAFO. In our interviews, not a single participant used any type of justice framing to describe the conflict.
Instead, they relied on arguments that Reicks does not share community interests or identity, threatens the local sense of place, and is an outsider who does not belong in the community. Although Reicks and some residents who supported the CAFO tried to present it as a potential source of jobs, taxes, and economic development, the activists framed the proposed CAFO as potentially detrimental to already existing businesses and employers in the area, entrenching the idea that a large hog operation was not the “right kind” of economic development for the region:
so I guess one thing that gets emphasized a lot in, like, talks about economic development or economic development plans is tourism and, like, tourism is one of the biggest economic drivers in this region, and the tribes are the two biggest employers in Ashland and Bayfield Counties, um, so it's, the CAFOs being antithetical to both of those things, but there are a lot of people that, um, don't have jobs or don't have good paying jobs, and that's also continuously been a challenge in the conversation in this region (Local activist in her twenties)
By framing the CAFO as “antithetical” to preexisting industries and employers, the activists in Bayfield were able to present their opposition to the CAFO as congruent with the cultural values of hard work and personal responsibility, the desire for economic well-being, and the need for economic development. Moreover, the idea that the proposed operation threatened local tourism connected resistance to the CAFO with the defense of the “sense of place” in the Bayfield area.
Much of the tourism in the area depends on activities related to natural, especially aquatic, amenities. Not only that, but also Lake Superior is essential to the local “sense of place,” as much of the local connection to the area is derived from its natural beauty. Activists leveraged that connection by using language that emphasized the potential economic, ecological, and human health consequences of large farming operations to articulate the point that the proposed CAFO threatened the area's “sense of place.” As a middle-aged, female public official noted:
it goes against our way of life. This is something we've always been known for, the pristine nature of this place, you know. That's why we choose to live in this isolated place so far away from everything else, because of how pristine and beautiful it's been, and so that's what we…that's our greatest asset.
Presenting their struggle as one to protect the region's natural amenities resonated with rural folks, as the preservation and maintenance of local identity is a major concern for rural communities in the light of many perceived signs that their way of life is declining. 59 , 60 As another activist put it, “I think people, including myself, feel really, deeply connected to this land base, and they understand, like, how special and important the Great Lakes, and particularly, Lake Superior are, and so, the proposal to bring twenty-six thousand hogs into this watershed, and have it, have the CAFO built on a creek that flows directly into Lake Superior, like, that's crazy, right?”
Framing the proposed CAFO as a threat to the local way of life and to existing economic enterprises appealed to rural values and helped cast Reicks in the role of the “outsider” who did not share local values or belong in the community. Framing the CAFO as a threat to the community's “sense of place” was related to, but distinct from, frames related to appropriate forms of economic development. However, both rhetorical strategies presented the CAFO as incongruent with the community's identity and way of life.
The third, and possibly most important, way in which the anti-CAFO activists were able to leverage rural identity as a rhetorical tool against Reicks was the manner in which they utilized rural “politics of resentment.” Central to this ideology is an us-versus-them framing, in which local residents who share predominant characteristics and values are the in-group and all others are the out-group.
Although problematic for how rural communities sometimes perceive or treat migrants, people of color, and sexual and gender minorities, this insider–outsider identity can be used against corporations who are perceived as not having the community's interests at heart. In Bayfield, the activists were able to frame Reicks as part of the out-group, who did not share the values of obligation to neighbors and attachment to place and were unlikely to become part of the community's collective identity. As a female, middle-aged public official stated:
And what benefit do we really get from it? I mean, they're, you know… they're going to hire a few people, they're going to pollute a lot of stuff, I don't know. I think the other concern that people have made is that they're not, the people who own the pig farm would not be embedded in the community. So this is, if you get a chance to come up here and stay for a while, people here, everybody knows everybody. Everybody… if you get cancer, we will have a spaghetti feed for you. Right? And so, are the people who own this gigantic pig farm gonna be that guy? Probably not. So I think that's the other concern, is that people here are very close and connected, and if you have big, sort of different approach to agriculture, and it's not a family farm, that, that changes some of that community.
Residents in Bayfield perceive themselves as being close and connected. The activists were able to present Reicks as a threat to that connectedness, or sense of community. The thought that Reicks would not become embedded in the fabric of life in the Bayfield area was a concern that was culturally resonant to many in the area, as it framed Reicks as an outside threat to local sovereignty and identity.
To the community activists, framing Reicks as a corporate outsider who did not share the values or interests of the Bayfield area was a deliberate and concerted effort. In fact, a local dairy operation was in the process of becoming a CAFO (expanding to 1000 animal-equivalent units) at the time Reicks was considering moving to Bayfield. However, the local dairy operation was embedded in the community, having resided there for a long time. The activists made a deliberate choice not to include this local operation into their resistance of Reicks, even though it posed similar risks to water quality and public health. As one middle-aged female activist said:
We made a very conscious decision, because of the fact that being right is not synonymous with winning. We knew early on that if lumped [local farmer] in with Reicks, we're going to lose, because we're going to muddy the waters, and our message was Reicks is from Iowa. He's bringing a dirty business up here.
Consistent with the us-versus-them mentality in the “politics of resentment,” Bayfield activists framed Reicks as a corporate interloper who did not share the values or interests of the community. Quite explicitly, local activists focused their efforts on the fact that Reicks was from out-of-state and did not share local culture or interests. In other words, local activists did not frame the conflict as an oppressed party that was fighting against a large, powerful corporation, but instead as a rural community with specific values and interests that an outside corporation did not share and threatened.
As shown, the activists in Bayfield did not rely on justice framing commonly seen in environmental justice struggles. 61 Instead, the activists deliberately chose frames that resonated with rural identity, presenting Reicks as threatening: (1) the local tourist industry as the “wrong kind” of economic development, (2) the local “sense of place” as an environmental hazard and water quality risk, and (3) the local sense of community as an outside corporation who does not share the values or interests of Bayfield. In short, Reicks was framed as a threat to community identity, which rural folks perceive as endangered and strongly want to preserve. This frame resonated with the rural community and enabled the activists to successfully fight off the proposed CAFO.
CONCLUSION
In Bayfield, it is clear that activists deliberately framed the proposed CAFO in a way that would resonate with the broader rural culture of that region. A key feature of many rural cultures is a “politics of resentment” and insider–outsider dynamics. 62 Consequently, although rural areas need jobs and Bayfield activists acknowledged that their area is relatively economically underdeveloped, justice framing was not utilized. The activists did not discuss this issue as a fight over fair treatment under the laws of our society.
Instead, they framed the struggle as a question of whether or not the CAFO was the right choice to make. Rural culture places emphasis on maintaining community identity, self-sufficiency, hard work, and a sense of place. Since justice framing can fail to resonate with the dominant white, rural identity and a “politics of resentment,” Bayfield activists instead relied on frames focused on how the proposed operation would threaten their community's identity and way of life.
In this study, we illustrated how rural activists framed an unwanted hog CAFO to successfully gain community support and thwart the proposal. It may be worthwhile to consider how rural identity and culture can foster frame misalignment with justice-oriented social movements, including, but not limited to, environmental justice movements. 63 Rural America contains a wide range of sub-cultures and identities that can intersect with rurality in complicated ways. 64
In some cases, non-white rural activists can utilize justice-oriented frames that will resonate strongly with their communities (see conflicts over North Carolina's hog industry 65 , 66 or the Dakota Access Pipeline 67 ). In others, rural communities will actively seek environmentally hazardous facilities or industries for the purposes of economic benefit and the maintenance of community economic identity. 68 , 69 However, in our case, and we believe potentially in many cases, predominantly white, working-class rural places may not identify with the environmental justice movement or respond to justice framing. In such situations, rural environmental activists should construct frames related to preserving local identity and frame unwanted land uses as outsiders who do not share community interests.
The efficacy of activists in our case study largely hinges on their ability to frame the struggle in such a way as to align with rural identity. That many Bayfield activists were transplants did frustrate some residents, who claimed that they did not count as “local.” 70 Research in rural sociology has discussed the role of transplants in inequality formation, as sometimes urbanites migrating to rural spaces entails the construction of middle-class economies (e.g., nonprofit activism; legal services) that increase housing costs and general living expenses for those who have lived there for generations.
Moreover, transplants also tend to value the natural amenity economy as it is a primary motivation for their migration, and therefore are more likely to defend it at the expense of job creation. 71 Although our respondents and their local impact certainly share some of these characteristics, the key distinction is their effectiveness in framing the conflict in a culturally resonant manner, weighing their discursive strategies in light of their rural, white, working-class context.
The historical and discursive association of justice-oriented movements with urbanity and racial minorities in the United States often places such movements on the outside of us-versus-them framing in predominantly white rural communities. Further, rural values of independence, hard work, and self-sufficiency sometimes prevent rural communities from presenting themselves as the side of a conflict that is oppressed.
Relatedly, rural underdevelopment and lack of jobs can foster an environment where hazardous industrial employers looking to move into the area are not interpreted as a possible purveyor of injustice but judged on whether it is the “right kind” of development for the region. Therefore, rural communities may not invoke the environmental justice frame in situations of environmental conflict, even when the structure of the conflict (typically characterized by a powerful outside entity wishing to use the rural community as a “sacrifice zone” for an unwanted land use) directly mirrors that of traditional environmental justice conflicts.
This study examines how some rural activists frame resistance against unwanted land uses. However, often economically disadvantaged, predominantly white rural communities may not use environmental justice framing due to a lack of cultural resonance. Our analysis only uses interview data from a single case study to illustrate this point. Future research should further explore the complex intersections of rurality, race, identity, and culture by examining how rural activists resisting unwanted land uses frame their opposition with different regions or extractive activities (e.g., mining).
In addition, although conducting interviews is an excellent method for studying how individuals understand conflicts, our reliance on them does introduce a number of methodological limits. This study would have benefited greatly from the opportunity to attend and make observations at some of the public hearings at which this issue was debated as well as some of the protest demonstrations and meetings organized by the resistance.
Also, a more systematic analysis of the regulatory apparatus governing the lives of our interview subjects may have illuminated some of the structural motivations behind the rural consciousness and identity that we examine in this work. We believe that, especially in our contemporary climate of political polarization and intense politicized communication, understanding how and why specific segments of the population do not use justice framing to interpret and understand their social worlds is important and necessary for the facilitation of comprehensive social and environmental justice.
Footnotes
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The authors would like to thank the two anonymous reviewers and editor of Environmental Justice, Dawn Harfmann, Kindra De'Arman, Daniel Auerbach, Brandon Folse, and Carol Miller for providing valuable feedback on earlier drafts of this article.
AUTHOR DISCLOSURE STATEMENT
No competing financial interests exist.
FUNDING INFORMATION
There is no funding information to report.