Power And Public Participation In A Hazardous

Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114 DOI 10.1007/s10464-007-9157-5

ORIGINAL PAPER

Power and Public Participation in a Hazardous Waste Dispute: A Community Case Study Marci R. Culley Æ Joseph Hughey

Published online: 19 December 2007 Ó Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2007

Abstract Qualitative case study findings are presented. We examined whether public participation in a hazardous waste dispute manifested in ways consistent with theories of social power; particularly whether participatory processes or participants’ experiences of them were consistent with the three-dimensional view of power (Gaventa, Power and powerlessness: quiescence and rebellion in an appalacian valley, 1980; Lukes, Power: A radical view, 1974; Parenti, Power and the powerless, 1978). Findings from four data sources collected over 3 years revealed that participatory processes manifested in ways consistent with theories of power, and participants’ experiences reflected this. Results illustrated how participation was limited and how citizen influence could be manipulated via control of resources, barriers to participation, agenda setting, and shaping conceptions about what participation was possible. Implications for community research and policy related to participation in hazardous waste disputes are discussed. Keywords Power
Public participation
Hazardous waste
Qualitative case study

Introduction As argued elsewhere (Angelique and Culley 2007; Prilleltensky 2001, 2003; Speer and Hughey 1995), despite community psychologists’ attention to empowerment, little M. R. Culley (&) Department of Psychology, Georgia State University, P.O. Box 5010, Atlanta, GA 30302-5010, USA e-mail: [email protected] J. Hughey University of Missouri-Kansas City, Kansas City, MO, USA

consideration has historically been given to its root: power. Nevertheless, the concept has entered the lexicon of the field in part via the terms ‘‘feminist power’’ (Mulvey 2000), ‘‘referent power’’ and ‘‘expert power’’ (Salem et al. 2000) and ‘‘power relations’’ (Himmelman 2001). Swift (1992) advocated examination of power in terms of a ‘‘zero plus’’ versus ‘‘zero sum’’ commodity that espouses a ‘‘synergistic’’ versus ‘‘western, patriarchal’’ perspective. She viewed power relationally as ‘‘power with’’ versus ‘‘power over.’’ Rappaport (1987) similarly described the related construct of empowerment as an ‘‘expanding resource.’’ While resource-expanding notions of power should not be overlooked, much of the published discourse about power in the field is limited, as it tends to ignore the less palatable conflictual characteristics of power. There are some exceptions. For example, Newbrough (1995) warned we should not be ‘‘naı¨ve’’ about conflict and power. Speer and Hughey (1995) explicitly employed Lukes’ (1974) three-dimensional theory of social power to illustrate how community organizations and the individuals engaged in them could be empowered with an understanding of how power manifests at multiple levels. Similarly, Speer et al. (2003) documented how such a model of community organizing (one that understands and intentionally uses power) worked for an organization in New Jersey. Prilleltensky (2001, 2003) urged examination of our assumptions about power in social relationships and linked it to our thinking about distributive justice, democratic participation, oppression, liberation and wellness. Even more recently, Angelique (in press), Angelique and Culley (2007), and Prilleltensky et al. (http://powercommunity.blogspot.com) called for more discussion about how power operates in our lives and our communities. Discussions about power can enhance community psychology theory, research and action. We must, however,

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reflect carefully on our use of power concepts. Parenti (1978), who viewed social power as multi-dimensional and relational, much like Lukes (1974) and Gaventa (1980), warned against a sanitized view of power. He argued: ‘‘By underplaying the coercive and exploitative features of social action, and by neutralizing the causes of social problems, we have presumed the existence of neutralized solutions’’ (Parenti 1978, p. 25). With a naı¨ve view of power then, one may unwittingly limit the possibility of alternative solution(s) thereby perpetuating unjust circumstances for individuals and communities. This simply will not do if we are to remain dedicated to the values of our field. Here, we illustrate how power constructs revealed the nature of relationships among parties involved in a hazardous waste dispute. This article presents findings from a case study in which social power served as a guiding theoretical framework and contributes to the emerging literature making use of social power in community psychology. We examined in this study whether public participation (over a 3-year period) related to a hazardous waste dispute manifested in a way consistent with theories of social power (Gaventa 1980; Lukes 1974; Parenti 1978). Of particular interest was whether participatory processes or participants’ experiences of these processes unfolded in a way consistent with a three-dimensional view of power. This study adds to the literature by providing empirical evidence for what other scholars only speculated about regarding how power might impact these processes (Gould 1991, 1992; Szasz and Meuser 1997). The Setting for Research: A Historical Overview The City of Sugar Creek,1 home to about 3,900 people, is adjacent to the larger City of Independence, northeast of Kansas City, Missouri. Since the early 1900s, the city developed around the former BP Amoco oil refinery, Standard Oil then, to house workers recruited by the corporation from Eastern Europe (Dobson 1999; Kruckeberg and Starck 1988). In 1904 BP Amoco began petroleumrefining operations at its Sugar Creek refinery on the bluffs of the Missouri river. Crude oil was delivered by pipeline from several states to produce gasoline, distillate fuels, jet fuels, residual fuels, asphalt, petroleum coke, liquefied petroleum gases, sulfur, and polymers (Amoco/TriTechnics Corporation 1995). The initial 10,000 barrel-a-day Sugar Creek operation expanded to a 450 acre facility that refined an estimated 100,000 barrels of oil each day (Dobson 1999). 1

A pseudonym is purposely not used given that the environmental investigation is part of the public record and because to do so would make it more difficult for residents in similarly affected areas to find relevant information.

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Sugar Creek became the quintessential ‘‘company town.’’ In their historical analysis of BP Amoco’s public relations practices in Sugar Creek, Kruckeberg and Starck (1988) reported that BP Amoco generated more than half of the City’s tax revenue. They also noted the company’s widespread involvement in community affairs, hosting holiday parties and school open houses, sponsoring the annual ‘‘Slavic Festival,’’ and urging employees to engage in civic affairs. BP Amoco’s Sugar Creek refining operation ceased in 1982, but not without economic, social and environmental impacts (Amoco/ThermoRetec Consulting Corporation 1999; Kruckeberg and Starck 1988). As literature relevant to plant closure effects on communities would suggest (e.g., Gould 1991), the impact was significant and Kruckeberg and Starck (1988, p. 109) noted that many ‘‘likened the refinery’s closure to a death in the family’’. Pollution problems reportedly plagued the refinery even before environmental laws were established (Kruckeberg and Starck 1988). As early as 1920, residents complained about gasoline fumes in area springs and in 1963 the main creek which runs throughout the small town caught fire (Dobson 1999). Although the refinery ceased major operations over two decades ago, petroleum odors persist in both ambient (outdoor) and indoor (residential homes) air. Area creeks and springs still exhibit visible signs of petroleum pollution; residents renamed one creek ‘‘Pumpkin Creek’’ to denote its strange, orange color. Regulatory agencies reported that toxic chemicals linked to the refinery (e.g., benzene, tolouene, ethylbenzene, xylenes) exceed safe and legal exposure limits in areas on the refinery property and in the residential neighborhood (ATSDR 1999; US EPA Region VII 2000; MDNR 2000). Industry documents indicate that tens of millions of gallons of petroleum constituents were released into the Sugar Creek environment (Amoco/TriTechnics Corporation 1995; Dobson 1999). By these estimates, the chronic spills in Sugar Creek total more than 10 times the 11 million gallons dumped by the infamous Exxon Valdez. In fact, one report indicated that more than one million gallons of oil were spilled in just one Sugar Creek tank dike in 1977 (Amoco/TriTechnics Corporation 2000). Data related to a federal and state environmental investigation in Sugar Creek, most of which was produced by BP Amoco (standard practice in such investigations) indicated that contaminants seeping into the residential area have formed multiple pollution plumes. Some of these plumes were identified with data from area groundwater monitoring wells, soil data (Amoco/TriTechnics Corporation 1995, 1999; ATSDR 2000; US EPA 2000) and citizen investigation reports. At the time of this writing, there is no clean up plan in sight. Toxic pollution continues to seep into the neighborhood, and after more than a decade of involvement regulators are still trying to assess the

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nature and extent of contamination. Litigation and health studies related to the investigation brought substantial media attention and increased community conflict. (See Culley 2004 for details). The nature and extent of community conflict exhibited in Sugar Creek is typical of other contaminated communities described in the social science literatures (Brown and Mikkelsen 1990; Couch et al. 1997; Cuthbertson and Nigg 1987; Davidson and Baum 1991; Edelstein 1988; Edelstein and Wandersman 1987; Erikson 1994; Freudenburg 1997; Rich et al. 1982). Disagreement about the extent of contamination, exposures, and health affects, coupled with the length of time ‘‘experts’’ had been involved at the site without resolution, divided the community. As community conflict and public awareness increased with media attention, litigation, health studies, and citizen organization activities, public participation in the investigation became a critical community issue; one that invited an empirical analysis of power dynamics.

Purpose and Rationale for Present Research Little research published in the social science literature provides in-depth analyses of how federally mandated public participation requirements have been applied in communities already contaminated by hazardous wastes (Aronoff and Gunter 1994; Carnes et al. 1998; Gould 1991, 1992; Lowry 1998; Szaz and Meuser 1997). Of these, even fewer scholars have suggested how these participatory processes have been influenced by power dynamics (Gould 1991, 1992; Szasz and Meuser 1997). None however, systematically examined how social power manifested through such processes. An analysis of social power is crucial, given that power dynamics are suspected to affect these processes at contaminated sites (e.g., Couch et al. 1997; Gould 1991, 1992; Levine 1982; Molotch 1970; Rich et al. 1995; Szasz and Meuser 1997). Such an analysis also seems fruitful given that previous research has demonstrated the explanatory power of these concepts with respect to other community phenomena (Gaventa 1980, Speer and Hughey 1995, Speer et al. 2003). Therefore, this research joins a handful of scholarly investigations that evaluated the application of participation requirements in communities with existing hazardous waste sites and to our knowledge it is the first to systematically analyze whether these participatory processes manifest in a way consistent with social power.

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(e.g., Dahl 1969) focused on what has come to be called the uni-dimensional view, whereas later works (Gaventa 1980; Lukes 1974; Parenti 1978) articulated a three-dimensional view power. The three dimensions or mechanisms are thought to emerge in a cumulative compounding fashion and are often exercised jointly. Thus, they are not independent mechanisms. First Dimension of Power: Superior Bargaining Resources Within the literature about social power, the first dimension (the popular view of power) is generally understood as the use of superior resources (by A: the relatively powerful) to reward or punish behavior of those with fewer resources (B: the relatively powerless). Because (A) has superior resources (e.g., money, property, authority), (A) is able to prevail in the negotiation of key issues—via the exercise of control over resources which are used to overtly coerce (B) to do what (A) wants (Dahl 1969). Second Dimension of Power: Control of Participation and Debate To address some of the conceptual shortcomings of a unidimensional theory of power (e.g., emphasis on overt behavior), a second dimension of social power was developed (Bachrach and Baratz 1962, 1970). The second dimension of power is generally understood as the ability to determine who participates and what is debated in decisionmaking about key issues. This dimension manifests through setting agendas or constructing barriers to participation by preventing the less powerful from raising issues, resulting in their withdrawal from participation (Bachrach and Baratz 1962, 1970). Whereas the first dimension is revealed through overt actions by parties to coerce certain forms of participation and thus prevail, the second dimension is often hidden. The relationship between parties reflects one in which ‘‘rules of the game’’ (e.g., institutional procedures or agendas) are used to systematically benefit one group (A) over another so that one group (B) is less able to defend and promote their interests (Bachrach and Baratz 1970). Thus, the second dimension is used intentionally or unwittingly by parties through overt or covert conflict in relationships to constrain or channel participation. Prevailing in this dimension results in a cascade of benefits or barriers to participants and can effectively remove the necessity to use instruments of the first dimension of power without overt conflict (Lukes 1974).

Guiding Theoretical Framework: Three Dimensions of Social Power

Third Dimension of Power: Shaping Interests

The scholarship on social power has, over time, largely adopted a multi-dimensional view of power. Early writers

The third dimension of social power was articulated by Lukes (1974) to capture the significance of latent conflict

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and the more elusive systemic forces not set forth by oneand two-dimensional views of power. The third dimension is generally thought to manifest as the ability of the relatively powerful (A) to control and disseminate myths and ideology which are used to shape the very thoughts, desires and interests of the relatively powerless (B) (Gaventa 1980; Lukes 1974; Parenti 1978). The perception of what is possible or imperative is thought to be a key feature of the third dimension of power. Although beyond the scope of this research, it is relevant to Freire’s notion of (1968) ‘‘critical consciousness’’ and the potential for a manipulated ‘‘consensus’’ (Gaventa 1980; Horton and Freire 1990; Lukes 1974; Parenti 1978). It is generally maintained that the manipulation and determination of interests is particularly effective given the cumulative and transactive effects of all three dimensions of social power (Gaventa 1980; Lukes 1974). In short, those most successful at exercising power characteristic of the first and second dimensions, i.e., resources, control of participation and debate, are better positioned to actually shape the self-interests of others so that the interests of the dominant party are maximized. As others have suggested (Gaventa 1980; Lukes 1974; Parenti 1978), here what we attempt to reveal with respect to social power is the examination of what occurred when ‘‘official’’ participatory processes were unfolding (e.g., during public meetings) and what of potential relevance to the outcome did not occur. Our analysis attempts to illuminate complex, transactive relationships that may have been guided by underlying power dynamics and to make explicit the power concepts implicit in the design and emergence of ‘‘official’’ and ‘‘unofficial’’ forms of public participation. Through analyses of multiple document sources and key informant interviews guided by power concepts, we analyze the nature of participatory processes that unfolded in Sugar Creek Thus, our purpose was to examine whether the participatory processes set into motion by the implementation of ‘‘official’’ vehicles for public participation manifested in ways consistent with social power.

Public Participation Various definitions of the terms ‘‘public participation,’’ ‘‘vehicles’’ for public participation, and ‘‘participatory processes’’ are used (Cvetkovich and Earle 1994; Fiorino 1990, 1996; Steelman and Ascher 1997). These can include but are not limited to activities such as individual voting behavior, collective proposals for binding referenda among the citizenry, advisory group involvement, or meeting attendance. For this study, ‘‘public participation’’ was defined in accordance with the interpretation offered by Cvetkovich and Earle (1994): ‘‘direct involvement of

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individual citizens and citizen groups in the seeking of information about, decision-making related to and the management of planning regarding [environmental] issues’’ (p. 163). We looked for both formal and informal modes of participation (e.g., meeting attendance, presentations, public comment, e-mails, phone calls, letterwriting, collective actions such as demonstrations or rallies, etc.), irrespective of the level of citizen influence or decision-making power. We explored two types public participation. First, ‘‘Official’’ vehicles for public participation were defined as planned opportunities for public participation designed with agency or government oversight or formal approval (e.g., public comment periods, public meetings). Second, ‘‘Unofficial’’ vehicles for public participation were defined as planned opportunities for public participation devised by the citizenry. These included citizen group activities, such as meetings, letter-writing, phone calls, demonstrations, documentation of pollution, and so on. ‘‘Participatory processes’’ were defined as those processes that unfolded through opportunities for public participation related to the BP Amoco investigation in Sugar Creek (via ‘‘official’’ or ‘‘unofficial’’ vehicles). As described in our findings, the investigation formally began in 1989 with a voluntary consent agreement between EPA Region VII and BP Amoco. The investigation was the result of standard regulatory processes instigated by the closure of the refinery in 1982, the extent of suspected on- and off-site contamination, and increasing public awareness and community conflict regarding the contamination. Opportunities for public participation, including a series of public meetings, did not begin until 2000 following a class action lawsuit settlement and the June 1998 formation of the citizen group: Citizens Learning Everything about Amoco Negligence and Underground Pollution (CLEANUP).2

Method A qualitative case study approach was used (Denzin and Lincoln 1998; Lincoln and Guba 1985, 1998; Yin 1994). The intent was to capture complex transactions among individuals and institutions embedded in the Sugar Creek context. This sort of empirical inquiry is particularly important where, as was the case in Sugar Creek, the boundaries between public participation and its community context were blurred (Yin 1994). Consonant with the approaches taken by others who have explored similar 2

CLEANUP represented the only organized group of residents engaged in the investigation. The group formed out of shared interest(s): frustration with what was perceived as a flawed and slowmoving investigation, and the desire to adequately address the pollution of their neighborhood.

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Phenomena of Interest •

Participatory Processes set into motion by implementation of “official” vehicles

•

Participants’ Experiences of these processes

Data Generation

Interviews

Focus Group Minutes

Focus Group Agendas

Focus Group Video

E-Mail

Newsletters

Qualitative Data Analyses

Inductive and Deductive Development of Thematic Categories and Subthemes

Data Indexing

Findings: Description of the Nature of Participatory Processes and Participants’ Experiences of these processes

Fig. 1 Research strategy

phenomena (e.g., Aronoff and Gunter 1994; Gould 1991, 1992; Szasz and Meuser 1997), participant interview data were combined with the analyses of multiple document sources. To assure completeness and accuracy of findings and to overcome the limits of any single strategy or data source, qualitative case studies typically use multiple sources and strategies for data collection (Denzin and Lincoln 1998). We reasoned that uncovering the same information from more than one vantage point would allow for description of how findings manifest under different circumstances and assist in the confirmation of findings (Denzin and Lincoln 1998; Miles and Huberman 1989). Shown in Fig. 1 is our research strategy. It includes our multiple sources of data and protocol for analyses.

Role of Researchers To provide some context for data collection, it is important to note that the first author was extensively involved as a participant-observer in Sugar Creek for more than 4 years; from October 1999 until well beyond the timeframe selected for data collection which ended in December 2002. The first author’s initial involvement, a product of both a personal and professional interest in community

organizing related to environmental issues, began as a practicum experience with CLEANUP and later evolved into her dissertation research. As described below, she systematically engaged in participant observation to better understand the personal, organizational and institutional relationships that shaped the hazardous waste investigation. Notably, this allowed her to attend the bulk of public meetings related to the BP Amoco investigation. Further, given the researcher’s familiarity with all parties and that CLEANUP members consistently expressed an interest in evaluation of their experiences related to public participation, this research was, in part, designed to explore their struggle to meaningfully participate in the investigation. The first author was trained in qualitative methods, had conducted a number of qualitative studies, and operated from a critical theory perspective (Lincoln and Guba 1998).

Interview Participants To explore how public participation in the BP Amoco investigation was experienced first-hand by key informants, interview data were obtained from key public meeting participants. As described below, the BP Amoco Focus Group, a series of public meetings begun in February 2000 (nearly 20 years after the refinery’s closure) functioned as the primary ‘‘official’’ vehicle for public participation in Sugar Creek. Generally, the BP Amoco Focus Group provided the only public forum for relevant parties to discuss the investigation.

Participant Identification and Recruitment Fifteen individuals representing various entities and who were extensively involved in the BP Amoco Focus Group meetings were asked via e-mail to participate in interviews. Specifically, individuals representing the entities listed in the Environmental Protection Agency’s (EPA’s) Public Involvement Plan designed exclusively for Sugar Creek were sought for participation. These included representatives from EPA Region VII, the Missouri Department of Natural Resources (MDNR), the Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry (ATSDR), the City of Sugar Creek, Citizens Learning Everything about Amoco Negligence and Underground Pollution (CLEANUP), BP Amoco, and the Kansas State University Technical Outreach Services to Communities (TOSC). In all cases these key informants (our participants) served as the primary or only designated meeting attendees for their institution or organization and attended all or most of the BP Amoco Focus Group meetings during the 3 year timeframe

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selected for study.3 Only BP Amoco representatives (i.e., Site Manager and Public Relations Director) refused to participate in interviews, citing lack of time and a concern that such participation would not likely serve the company’s interests.4 It is perhaps important to note that with the exception of CLEANUP members (who did not socialize with one another before the formation of their organization) the researchers do not know the extent to which participants’ social networks overlapped. Interviewees were asked to talk about their experiences as representatives of their respective institutions. The extent to which our data might have been shaped by overlapping social networks is unknown. Document Data Sources With other data sources, documents were used to analyze the nature of participatory process and participants’ experiences. Documents obtained for analyses included those related to the BP Amoco Focus Group, e-mail ‘‘listserv’’ correspondence, and public newsletters that published information relevant to the investigation. BP Amoco Focus Group Documents The BP Amoco Focus Group functioned as the primary ‘‘official’’ vehicle for public participation. The BP Amoco Focus Group—a series of ongoing public meetings— provided the only public forum for relevant parties to gather and discuss the BP Amoco investigation. All meeting minutes, agendas and available video footage of the 15 Focus Group meetings that occurred during the 3-year timeframe for this study (between February 2000, the inception of the BP Amoco Focus Group, and December 2002) were obtained for analysis. While agendas and minutes were analyzed in their entirety, video footage was used solely to verify the accuracy and completeness of meeting agendas and minutes. To ensure that events that unfolded during the meetings but not captured in the agendas or meeting minutes were accessed for analyses, discrepancies between video footage and the minutes and 3

These individuals represented the vast majority of those who regularly attended and participated in the meetings, which averaged about 20 persons per meeting. Only city officials and CLEANUP members were residents of Sugar Creek and of those, all but one had lived there for 20 or more years. Additional demographic characteristics were not collected. For more details see Culley (2004). 4 BP officials’ refusal to participate was somewhat surprising, given that they routinely expressed an interest in this research. In fact, an MDNR representative indicated to the researcher that BP Amoco’s PR Director phoned him to inquire about whether MDNR would participate and requested a follow-up phone call to discuss the content of the interview.

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agendas of the meetings were noted and transcribed verbatim for textual analysis. E-mail ‘‘Listserv’’ Correspondence E-mail correspondence functioned as an informal ‘‘listserv’’ to facilitate communication among the citizen group CLEANUP and others involved in the investigation. All e-mail correspondence between CLEANUP and others involved in the BP Amoco Focus Group was compiled for analysis (n = 2,498). CLEANUP members systematically and publicly copied the first author in their ‘‘listserv’’ communications. An archive of these data was created, and each e-mail was printed and catalogued by date for textual analyses.

Newsletters BP Amoco and the City of Sugar Creek routinely distributed newsletters to Sugar Creek residents. The City’s monthly newsletter, Sweet Talk, occasionally published articles about the BP Amoco investigation and announced Focus Group meeting times. BP Amoco’s newsletter, BP Newsclips, was mailed to Sugar Creek residents about two or three times a year. All newsletters mailed to residents by the City (n = 35) and BP Amoco (n = 8) were analyzed.

Procedures for Data Collection BP Amoco Focus Group Participant Interviews All interviews (n = 13) were conducted by the first author in locations chosen by participants, either at their place of employment (n = 8) or residence. Participants were interviewed using an adapted version of Berg’s (1989) ‘‘unstandardized interview’’ technique. Interviews lasted about 1.5 hours. Informed consent was obtained, and all but one participant indicated their name could be reported with their comments. Therefore, with consent, names and/ or job titles of participants are used throughout this paper.5 To ensure accuracy, interviews were audio-recorded and transcribed verbatim. Participants were provided with a copy of their interview transcript via e-mail so they could review their transcript and make desired changes or additions. Only one participant expressed the desire to clarify 5

CLEANUP members specifically requested that their names be used and noted their frustration with academic research that used pseudonyms, which they argued made it more difficult for interested parties to find relevant information about public environmental investigations.

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one small portion of an interview and subsequently provided the researcher with such clarification, which was added to the transcript for analysis.

Measures All interviewees were asked: ‘‘Tell me about how you’ve experienced public participation related to the BP Amoco investigation in Sugar Creek.’’ ‘‘Or in other words, what do you think is important for me to know about public participation in Sugar Creek?’’ Given that unstructured interviews are explicitly designed to allow for rich description of participants’ own experiences rather than the researchers’ preconceived notions of such (Berg 1989; Denzin and Lincoln 1998; Lincoln and Guba 1985, 1998; Yin 1994), this open-ended question was designed to elicit responses from participants about how they experienced public participation in Sugar Creek. To ensure that participants had the opportunity to discuss experiences consistent with manifestations of social power, they were prompted about the nature of relationships between Focus Group participants, agenda-setting, decision-making processes related to key issues, and barriers (if any) to participation (see Culley 2004 for details).

Procedures for Document Collection All document data were collected via participant observation (Adler and Adler 1998; Berg 1989), as the lead author was extensively involved in Sugar Creek from October 1999 until well past this study’s timeframe. She systematically engaged in participant observation to better understand the personal and institutional relationships that shaped the hazardous waste investigation in Sugar Creek and attended all but two BP Amoco Focus Group meetings. Participant observation allowed immersion in the natural processes of communication (e.g., informal discussions, formal and informal meetings, e-mail correspondence) and thereby allowed access to information that may not have been otherwise obtained (Adler and Adler 1998; Berg 1989).

Data Analyses Data analyses procedures were consistent with others who have explored similar phenomena (Aronoff and Gunter 1994; Gould 1991, 1992; Szasz and Meuser 1997). All data were textually analyzed for content to identify emerging thematic categories and subthemes that: (1) described participatory processes in Sugar Creek; particularly those

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apparently consistent with dimensions of social power; and (2) characterized how public participation was experienced by key BP Amoco Focus Group participants throughout the BP Amoco investigation. Two procedures guided data analyses. First, thematic categories relevant to the data and the research purpose were inductively and deductively developed by the lead author. Therefore, both anticipated and unanticipated categories pertinent to the study were documented. Second, open coding procedures were employed in which data were systematically analyzed to identify emerging themes and subthemes. The aim was to characterize the data from multiple sources. What did these participatory processes look like? Did they manifest in ways consistent with dimensions of social power? How did participants report their experiences of public participation? Were the relationships between key players consistent with social power?

Data Indexing A manual systematic indexing process modeled after Culley and Angelique’s (2003) system was utilized to develop thematic categories and guide open coding. For example, to characterize the nature of participatory processes the lead author created the (inductive, anticipated) thematic categories of ‘‘Official’’ and ‘‘Unofficial’’ vehicles for public participation. To describe participants’ experiences of participatory processes the researcher created the (inductive, anticipated) thematic category ‘‘General Challenges to Public Participation.’’ Below these major thematic categories, participants’ responses and relevant text from all data sources within each category were listed and coded on both the index cards and a copy of the transcript or document. For example, textual evidence of ‘‘General Challenges to Public Participation’’ (e.g., ‘‘The community is very fractured’’) was listed under the (anticipated) thematic category ‘‘General Challenges to Public Participation.’’ After iterative exhaustive open coding and systematic indexing, the lead author explored the various themes and subthemes that emerged from the four sources of data to characterize the nature of participatory processes and participants’ experiences of these processes. The researcher then systematically documented all themes and subthemes that emerged from more than one data set.

Finding and Analyses Two forms of public participation were identified: ‘‘Official’’ and ‘‘Unofficial.’’ Environmental regulators did not implement ‘‘official’’ vehicles for public participation

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for 10 years after the investigation formally began, in 1989 when EPA used its legal authority under section 3008(h) of the Resource Conservation and Recovery Act (RCRA)6 to order BP Amoco to enter into a consent decree. Notably, there are no statutory requirements for public participation when contaminated commercial properties are designated as ‘‘corrective action’’ sites under section 3008(h) of RCRA. Thus, ‘‘official’’ vehicles for public participation were implemented in Sugar Creek 17 years after the refinery closed and only at the discretion of regulators. ‘‘Official’’ settings were those secured by governmental or corporate interests. The one ‘‘unofficial’’ effort we identified had no such institutional affiliation. All interviewees identified the BP Amoco Focus Group as the primary ‘‘official’’ vehicle for public participation in Sugar Creek. Because this was the primary ‘‘official’’ vehicle and because many data in our study referenced the BP Amoco Focus Group, we devote most of our analyses to this participatory form (see Culley 2004 for detailed analyses). Other ancillary ‘‘official’’ vehicles included one ‘‘public availability session,’’ akin to a poster session at an academic conference, the siting of an information repository at the Sugar Creek public library, development of an EPA website and fact sheets specific to the Sugar Creek site, and public comment periods for written response to technical aspects of site remediation (pending at the time of writing). We mention these ancillary forms only when they provide meaningful context for our findings. Importantly, ‘‘unofficial’’ grassroots participation emerged in Sugar Creek when CLEANUP formed 1 year before ‘‘official’’ vehicles were implemented by regulators in Sugar Creek. CLEANUP became the only organized effort in contradistinction to the ‘‘official’’ form(s) of participation. ‘‘Unofficial’’ participatory processes uncovered in this study included informal organizational meetings (in resident homes), ‘‘citizen investigation’’ activities (e.g., trespassing, documenting pollution, e-mail correspondence with regulators), and collective actions (e.g., demonstrations). With no ‘‘official’’ vehicle available, CLEANUP’s engagement in the BP Amoco investigation required that they develop an understanding of the roles, responsibilities and relationships among the organizations and institutions involved in the BP Amoco investigation and how the group 6

It is important to note that RCRA covers the vast majority of regulated hazardous waste sites in the United States. In 1999, these sites totaled more than 40,000 and included nearly 75 million tons of toxic waste from 1,575 treatment, storage and disposal facilities, 17,914 waste transporters and 20,083 large quantity generators (EPA 2001). These do not include the more than 400,000 ‘‘conditionally exempt small quantity generators’’ not regulated by EPA under RCRA or ‘‘Superfund’’ programs (EPA 1994), nor do they include the more than 20,000 sites with radioactive materials licenses overseen by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission (Franklin-Ramirez and Steimbach 1997).

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fit with other entities. Simply put, ‘‘unofficial’’ processes reflected their struggle to navigate their way through these institutional arrangements. For several reasons the interplay of findings from all four data sources invite an analysis of power. First, our findings clearly established that conflict between groups was commonplace, whether overt or otherwise. Second, barriers against full or effective participation in ‘‘official’’ processes were present. Third, findings suggested that some parties (via control of key resources, agenda setting tactics, or manipulation of community symbols) were able to shape debate about key issues in ways that systematically benefited some parties over others. Finally, the emphasis placed on ‘‘unofficial’’ processes enacted by CLEANUP and highlighted by all participants invites an analysis of power. The driving question of this research was whether the participatory processes set into motion by the implementation of ‘‘official’’ vehicles for public participation manifested in ways consistent with social power. Findings about the nature of ‘‘official’’ and ‘‘unofficial’’ participatory processes combined with those about how participants experienced them suggested multiple and largely unacknowledged social processes, closely aligned with dimensions of social power. It appeared all parties used instruments of power to defend and promote their interests—some more successfully than others. To illustrate how each dimension manifested in this case study, we attempt to ‘‘tell the story’’ of how the three power dimensions are related to participatory processes and individual experiences of these given the ‘‘official’’ and ‘‘unofficial’’ vehicles available in Sugar Creek. While we begin with the first dimension, the reader should be aware that the three dimensions are thought to emerge in a cumulative, compounding fashion and can be exercised jointly. Thus, they are not independent mechanisms.

First Dimension of Power: Superior Bargaining Resources When this construct is applied to the relationships among those engaged in the participatory processes in Sugar Creek, it becomes clear that certain entities were able to get what they wanted through the control of resources. They were also able to prompt others to behave in ways they might not have otherwise, and those with less advantageous resources were compelled to behave in ways that maximized the interests of the relatively powerful. The convergence of data sources offered multiple examples of how instruments of the first dimension of power were used by various parties participating in the BP Amoco investigation. Here are two illustrations of how the first dimension

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of power manifested: as the ‘‘official’’ and ‘‘unofficial’’ participatory processes unfolded.

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propaganda out’’ and ‘‘feather their own bonnet’’ (November 16, 2002, p. 17). Janet Elliott said: I think we had hoped something good would come out of it...[but] we have gotten nothing out of it...and now [the regulators] have the opportunity to say ‘‘hey, we’ve worked with these local people...we’ve got all these citizens out here that we’re working with and it’s going well and we’re doing a good job (November 22, pp. 3, 6).

Illustration #1: ‘‘Official’’ Participatory Processes Findings suggested that Sugar Creek political officials used their bargaining resources as a municipal government authority (read: representatives of ‘‘the people of Sugar Creek’’) to negotiate with EPA and MDNR officials (who had legitimacy as environmental regulatory authorities) for establishment and maintenance of the primary ‘‘official’’ vehicle for public participation (BP Amoco Focus Group). These officials allowed use of the library and other public venues (e.g., newsletters) in exchange for the benefit of showing the City was meeting its obligation to represent the citizens of Sugar Creek (i.e., something they wanted). Thus, the City established the BP Amoco Focus Group and paid its facilitator, a BP Amoco consultant. Because the BP Amoco Focus Group was the only ‘‘official’’ public forum for all parties to gather and discuss the investigation, it provided a setting within which reward and punishment in the ‘‘official’’ participatory realm could occur and be readily identified. CLEANUP was rewarded for their participation with the opportunity for consistent public interaction with regulatory authorities in an ‘‘official’’ forum to express their grievances (i.e., something they wanted). It is not difficult to imagine why the City and regulators desired CLEANUP’s participation. CLEANUP was the only group of citizens who made public their concerns about the investigation. If CLEANUP was excluded altogether, this would publicly call into question whether the BP Amoco Focus Group was representative. As expected with the first dimension of social power, we found some overt behavioral conflict between the City and CLEANUP during Focus Group meetings. For instance, interview, BP Amoco Focus Group and e-mail data indicated the City used its control over key Focus Group resources to punish CLEANUP (e.g., the City removed a CLEANUP representative from the BP Amoco Focus Group (described below), name placards were withheld only for CLEANUP, meeting minutes were often e-mailed to all but CLEANUP). Results from interview, e-mail and BP Amoco Focus Group data revealed that CLEANUP members, and no one else, routinely negatively experienced the processes that unfolded during these meetings. Further, it appeared that CLEANUP’s participation in the BP Amoco Focus Group actually maximized the interests of more powerful entities. CLEANUP members insisted their involvement cost their group but benefited others. For example, Bud Chappell argued the Focus Group merely provided a means for regulators, BP Amoco, and the City to ‘‘get their

They similarly described the process as ‘‘frustrating,’’ ‘‘a dog and pony show’’ or ‘‘insulting.’’ For example, Barbara Chappell argued: You go to these meetings and the room is set up in a way that all the tables are in a square where they’re all looking at each other. EPA sets together, MDNR sets together, ATSDR, [TOSC]...but the table that does not face us, the people in the audience, Amoco sets...and the Mayor. You know, that is insulting to me! It’s letting me know that we don’t matter to them. You mean to talk about body language, that’s body language! That shows us where we are. We’re nothing (November 16, 2002, p. 13). In contrast, others recalled positive experiences of the BP Amoco Focus Group and emphasized its utility as a tool for communication. The data revealed that the BP Amoco Focus Group was so well received by regulators that EPA and MDNR officials received an award from EPA for their involvement in the BP Amoco Focus Group. Reportedly, the Focus Group was recognized as an exemplar of regulators’ attempts to facilitate public involvement. This supports the notion, consistent with the first dimension and CLEANUP members’ assertion, that their involvement cost the CLEANUP group but benefited others. It bears noting that while by no means did CLEANUP expect a warm reception from BP Amoco (or even city officials), the data revealed that they believed (at least early on) that the regulators—those reportedly charged with protecting the public—would ensure the process would be fair. Overall, it appeared CLEANUP was compelled to participate in BP Amoco Focus Group meetings despite some overt conflict with City officials and despite the perception that such meetings offered few or no benefits to the organization. The operation of the first dimension of social power suggests CLEANUP participated in the Focus Group because their less advantageous bargaining resources (e.g., no formal recognition as representative of ‘‘the people’’) did not allow them to successfully negotiate with regulators, as City officials had, about key issues in the ‘‘official’’ participatory realm. 7

Page numbers reflect transcript page numbers.

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Illustration #2: ‘‘Unofficial’’ Processes Because initially there was no ‘‘official’’ role for the public to participate, the CLEANUP organization extensively engaged in ‘‘unofficial’’ activities that vividly depict how CLEANUP, BP Amoco and the City of Sugar Creek used instruments indicative of the first dimension of power to get what each wanted. For example, findings indicated that CLEANUP successfully used their bargaining resources (e.g., status as residents; local, historical knowledge; media attention; working collectively versus alone) to punish regulators and BP Amoco for years of inaction at the site. CLEANUP used their resources to get what they wanted— increased agency attention to the site and public exposure of the RCRA investigation’s flaws. Their success was evidenced by EPA Region VII officials’ declaration of the site as a ‘‘top priority.’’ One CLEANUP member argued: ...By trespassing on the property and finding blatant problems...[and] bringing them out to the press...that brought embarrassment to the EPA and MDNR, but also BP Amoco and somewhat the City... we did things...two government agencies [EPA and MDNR] and the corporate entity should have done more than 20 years ago [when the refinery closed in 1982]...we put those [pictures] in front of everybody on the 6:00 news and all of a sudden this site became an issue with all of those entities (B. Haman, November 16, 2002, pp. 1, 12). CLEANUP’s success at securing increased agency and public attention was reacted to by BP Amoco and the City; they used their resources to punish CLEANUP. Findings showed that BP Amoco began restricting access to residential and on-site areas targeted by CLEANUP. They paid the City of Sugar Creek’s Chief of Police to patrol the inside of the refinery. City police began routinely stopping and questioning CLEANUP members when they walked residential areas. To counter negative media attention instigated by CLEANUP, BP Amoco offered tours of the refinery to members of the public. However, only for CLEANUP members, such tours were contingent upon signing a document that stated they would never again trespass on the refinery, which they refused to do.

Second Dimension of Power: Control of Participation and Debate—Setting the Agenda The second dimension of power is generally understood as the ability to determine who participates and what is debated in decision-making about key issues. The second dimension of power often manifests through setting agendas or defining the terms and conditions of debate

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(Bachrach and Baratz 1962, 1970). Whereas the first dimension is revealed through overt actions by parties to coerce certain forms of participation and thus prevail as shown above, the second dimension is often hidden. It is often used by parties to constrain and channel participation in ways that yield benefits to their interests. Our multiple data sources converged to reveal numerous examples of the manifestation of this dimension. Two illustrations show how the second dimension was used by various parties in Sugar Creek.

Illustration #1: CLEANUP and the BP Amoco Focus Group Prior to the enactment of any ‘‘official’’ vehicles for public participation, the nature of RCRA policy and regional EPA and MNDR processes ultimately controlled who (beyond BP Amoco) would participate ‘‘officially’’ in the investigation. As EPA’s Sugar Creek Project Manager stated: ‘‘We pretty much work with the responsible party—in this case BP—and we direct them to do the investigation...that’s pretty darn standard’’ (R. Aston, November 20, 2002). Regulators’ efforts to implement ‘‘official’’ vehicles might suggest barriers to participation were removed. For instance, MDNR’s Public Affairs Specialist maintained: ‘‘[The BP Amoco Focus Group] was a big thing as far as getting...the whole community involved...[it] allow[ed] for a somewhat level playing field’’ (J. Gassner, November 15, 2002, p. 4). However, without attention to how instruments of the second dimension of power actually operated, apparent removal of some barriers by regulators indicates the opposite. Although regulators implemented some ‘‘official’’ vehicles, effective participation remained largely blocked. Attempts to access key documents relevant to the investigation were routinely met with obstacles (e.g., information repository not updated for several months). As one regulator put it: ‘‘To a certain extent, the communities are given the wrong impression...that they really do have more say than they actually do’’ (D. Jordan-Izaguirre, December 4, 2002, p. 9). These constraints signify barriers to full participation and provide foundational evidence of the operation of the second dimension from which a cascade of events transpired. Other findings indicated that regulators, the City, and BP Amoco routinely used ‘‘setting the agenda’’ tactics or the ‘‘rules of the game’’ to shape debate and erect barriers against CLEANUP’s participation. Perhaps the most revealing evidence for the second dimension was that which was absent from Focus Group agendas and minutes. For example, despite that the BP Amoco Focus Group functioned as the primary ‘‘official’’ vehicle, until conflict

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arose, there was no evidence of open discussion about key issues related to how the Group would operate. Such discussion did not occur until the 10th Focus Group meeting when conflict arose about the City’s removal (via letter) of a CLEANUP Focus Group member because he had moved. After decades of residing there, he and his wife moved a few miles outside of Sugar Creek due to health concerns; particularly after being evacuated from their home for a short time by regulators due to unidentified toxic fumes that had collected in their home. The following exchanges were excluded from the meeting minutes and were revealed only through analysis of BP Amoco Focus Group video. They provide rich textual evidence for the manifestation of the second dimension of power: CLEANUP member to Focus Group: Who’s Focus Group is this? Is it the City’s? Is it EPA’s? Amoco’s? ...We don’t think the Mayor of Sugar Creek...has any right or responsibility to tell Bud Chappell that he’s no longer a member of this Group. Focus Group facilitator (BP Amoco consultant) The Focus Group does not have any kind of voting capacity to operate in that manner, so really the City of Sugar Creek Board of Alderman is who appointed...this Group to be a panel so the only thing I think we can do tonight is to report your comments [sic]...there’s not really anything that this group can do because it’s not a formal group. CLEANUP member: Well if it’s not a formal group who gave them the bylaw rights to do that? Focus Group facilitator: The City...formed this Group [and] there’s nothing really more that we can talk about tonight on this issue because it’s not a group that would take a vote...we don’t have any bylaws, that sort of thing. CLEANUP member: Well then how come you’re setting the rules? Why don’t you let the group do that? [The City Administrator] just said he’d like for [the Focus Group] to be ‘us’ [motions to committee members] so why don’t we poll the group? Focus Group facilitator: That’s really the responsibility of the City...I think we’re gonna move on to the next item of business. Video data also revealed that CLEANUP staged a ‘‘walkout’’ after this exchange took place, but this too was absent from meeting minutes.

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Thus, discussion about key issues related to how the Focus Group would function was stifled by the facilitator and subverted by regulators. This was accomplished through agenda setting and use of the ‘‘rules of the game’’—institutional procedures such as exclusion of certain items from the agenda, meeting facilitation practices, censored minutes, and claims of neutrality. The prime function of the second dimension was accomplished—to prohibit debate about key issues in the only ‘‘official’’ public forum. Interview and e-mail findings indicated that CLEANUP affiliates recognized this: It doesn’t matter what [CLEANUP] bring[s] to the Focus Group because the decisions are already made about what the EPA or MDNR is going to do, because they have already met with the polluter and made their decisions (L. Baker, November 4, 2002, p. 2).

Illustration # 2: City of Sugar Creek and BP Amoco: Information Control Control over the only two public newsletters in Sugar Creek, which regulators used to communicate with residents about the investigation, afforded the City and BP Amoco a near-monopoly of information disseminated to the public about the BP Amoco investigation. BP Amoco and the City were well positioned to shape participation and the nature of debate based on the City’s status as the most proximate civic institution in residents’ lives and BP Amoco’s position as a familiar institution, historically steeped in local community life. Shaping of participation in the BP Amoco investigation was accomplished through institutional control over what information about ‘‘official’’ participatory processes was made available to the public. For example, the City’s newsletter, Sweet Talk, correctly advertised only four of the fifteen Focus Group meetings in the City calendar. BP Amoco’s newsletter, BP Newsclips, never mentioned the meetings in advance. Overall, these newsletters gave little indication that residents could actively participate, with only a handful of cited opportunities for passive participation such as reviewing technical information in the library. In his interview, the Mayor of Sugar Creek noted that more regulators participated in Focus Group meetings than residents. In both newsletters, there was a palpable emphasis on BP Amoco’s cooperation with regulatory authorities, a smooth-running investigation, and the absence of health risk. For example, limitations of the health studies were never presented, and the City and BP Amoco published nothing about the nature and purpose of the CLEANUP organization. In an e-mail to CLEANUP, the communications consultant who wrote articles for Sweet Talk about the

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investigation privately questioned the accuracy of what was published by the City: ...some community members do not want cancer risk and other such subjects discussed in their newsletter. They think that these issues reflect negatively on the community...the major title of the page ‘Facilitating Facts about Amoco’ has been misleading considering the content of the articles. There is some question about whether or not the City newsletter is the appropriate avenue for educational articles about environmental issues (February 20, 2001). The ATSDR representative expressed similar concerns and provided evidence that suggested the City allowed BP Amoco review and revise information that was published in the City’s newsletter: I had written an article on the MS study and BP made changes to it...based on what they believed it was or should have been...so I had real concerns with who got to review the [Sweet Talk articles] and then who had the final say on how they were done, but that happened a couple of times and not just that once with BP (D. Jordan-Izaguirre, December 4, 2002, pp. 4, 5) Control of information by these entities was not limited to their newsletters. Examination of BP Amoco Focus Group minutes, controlled by the BP Amoco facilitator and City officials, often misrepresented or omitted key statements. For example, regarding discussion about a brain tumor study conducted by a University of Kansas Medical Center researcher, the minutes read only: ‘‘the study included information from Amoco,’’ while video footage revealed that the researcher indicated the company failed to provide additional employee health data despite his requests. Emergence of the second dimension is again highlighted by CLEANUP’s apparently unsuccessful struggle to prompt regulatory authorities to publicly challenge the company and the City about manipulating information in a selfserving manner. Like other CLEANUP members, Janet Elliott asserted regulators’ claims of neutrality and their inaction (read: non-decisions) regarding such made her ‘‘mad as hell’’ and suggested this demonstrated the regulatory agencies were ‘‘not for the people.’’ She said: ‘‘I feel like we’re not protected the way that we think we’re supposed to be...I just feel like EPA is bedded down with Amoco and that’s just not right’’ (November 22, 2002, p. 6). The second dimension of power suggests regulators’ use of ‘‘rules of the game’’ and claims of neutrality (read: nondecisions) in this case were used to systematically benefit certain parties over others which necessarily disadvantaged the latter. Their ‘‘neutrality’’ did in fact represent a position—one that served by default to legitimize BP Amoco and City efforts. The result was that it shaped the debate in

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such a way that BP Amoco and the City were better positioned to defend and promote their interests. The only ‘‘unofficial’’ participating entity in Sugar Creek, CLEANUP, thus appeared to have been very effectively shut out of much public debate by its adversaries’ control of agendas and manipulation of public information.

Third Dimension of Power: Shaping Interests Within the literature on social power, the third dimension is generally thought to manifest as the ability of the relatively powerful to control and disseminate myths and ideology which are used to shape the thoughts, desires and interests of the relatively powerless (Gaventa 1980; Lukes 1974; Parenti 1978). Perhaps the most compelling evidence for the manifestation of the third dimension was the ability of the City and BP Amoco to perpetuate the notion that the public had little or no reason to participate in the BP Amoco investigation. Although this study cannot empirically establish what non-participants thought, evidence for the operation of the third dimension of power may explain the low public participation in the investigation.

Illustration: No Need to Get Involved It appeared that the City and BP Amoco used their institutional power to influence what Sugar Creek residents thought about the BP Amoco investigation. Our analyses showed that these entities attempted to shape what residents thought about the investigation by manipulating symbols of great significance to community members—the identity of Sugar Creek as a ‘‘refinery town,’’ BP Amoco as ‘‘good neighbor’’ and economic benefactor. For example, Amoco’s sponsorship of an annual public holiday event and their donation of physical space for a new historical center to house historical artifacts related to the refinery and its workers was the subject of a full page advertisement in Sweet Talk at the peak of BP Amoco Focus Group activity: Please join us for a very special Holiday Open House to announce the new home of the Sugar Creek Historical Center. The Amoco Center on Sterling will be the site...this is a major milestone for the community’s dream to preserve and honor Sugar Creek’s past and another exciting step forward in the community’s future (December 2002, p. 6). The Mayor’s comments are instructive for the study of how dimensions of power work together to prefigure outcomes: ‘‘interest by the people of Sugar Creek is proportional to the amount of information that their City puts out there to them’’ (S. Salva, November 18, 2002, p. 10).

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Information about the investigation was often presented to residents in conjunction with language and symbols that emphasized BP Amoco as a familiar and ‘‘good neighbor.’’ Evidence for this was found in public newsletters, which referenced BP Amoco’s public relations efforts (e.g., financial support of community events) and plans for ‘‘economic revitalization’’ through reuse of the refinery property almost as frequently as the ‘‘smooth-running’’ environmental and health investigations. For example, in Sweet Talk the 93 references to BP Amoco’s public relations efforts numbered about the same as the 131 references to the environmental and health investigations. Similar numbers were found in BP Newsclips (n = 20 versus n = 18). When redevelopment and reuse of the refinery were discussed in the newsletters, the words ‘‘sustainable’’ and ‘‘ecological’’ were used to communicate ‘‘bottom line’’ objectives to ‘‘provide quality employment opportunities while preserving the environment.’’ Both the City and BP Amoco emphasized BP Amoco’s cooperation with regulators, a smooth running RCRA investigation, and the absence of health risk. They misrepresented or withheld key information from public newsletters (e.g., health study limitations) that might have reflected badly on the City and BP Amoco— or might have raised questions among the public. Further, it appeared the City and BP attempted to discredit CLEANUP by refusing to disclose the nature or purpose of the organization in public newsletters. Neither newsletter provided residents with information about CLEANUP, thereby possibly constraining consideration of participation. Findings from BP Amoco Focus Group data revealed much the same. Discrepancies between meeting minutes and video footage indicated that regulators’ comments about how CLEANUP prompted various regulatory actions (e.g., declaration as ‘‘top priority’’ site for the region) were often excluded from the meeting record. This suggests both institutions worked through apparent inaction to undermine the legitimacy of CLEANUP and to position this organization at the margins of debate. To do so, it was not necessary to overtly criticize the organization in these newsletters. The roots of this institutional power are not difficult to establish. The company built the City of Sugar Creek and was largely responsible for its economic position. More important to the third dimension of power is what appeared to be a collective internalization of these presumptions that resulted in filtering the information through the favorable optics of the BP Amoco—City orientation.

Conclusions This research shows how three dimensions of power can be used to understand participatory process at hazardous waste sites. Our data provide empirical evidence for what other

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scholars have speculated about regarding how power might impact these processes (Gould 1991, 1992; Szasz and Meuser 1997) and they illustrate how, through the explicit use of social power constructs, such processes could be ‘‘disempowering’’ (Rich et al. 1995). It is the first study to systematically examine how social power manifested through such processes. Further, it shows that multiple sources of data can profitably be used to provide in-depth analysis of public participation in a local hazardous waste dispute. Findings showed how previous researchers’ recommendations for the facilitation of ‘‘successful’’ public participation at hazardous waste sites (Aronoff and Gunter 1994; Carnes et al. 1998; Lowry 1998) were limited. Because these previous studies failed to explicitly account for power, they did not address how citizen influence or ‘‘consensus’’ could be manipulated via control of resources, barriers to participation, agenda setting or control of conceptions about what is possible in terms of issues or participation. The manipulation and determination of interests in Sugar Creek was particularly evident given the cumulative and transactive effects of all three dimensions of social power (Gaventa 1980; Lukes 1974). In short, those most successful at exercising power characteristic of the first and second dimensions (i.e., superior bargaining resources, control of participation and nature of debate) were also better positioned to shape the interests of others in such a way that the interests of the dominant parties were maximized. We agree with Lukes (1974) who argued that power is most successfully exercised when one has the ability not only to get others to do what one wants them to do, but also to get others to view community issues the way one wants them to. The perception of what is possible or imperative is thought to be a key feature of the third dimension of power, manipulation of ‘‘consensus,’’ and the development of ‘‘critical consciousness’’ (Freire 1968; Gaventa 1980; Horton and Freire 1990; Lukes 1974; Parenti 1978). For those who did not participate in the Sugar Creek disputes, such manipulation might have been determinative. This is consistent with what Lukes (1974) and Gaventa (1980) predicted about the cumulative nature of dimensions of power. Perhaps the most persuasive evidence for the manifestation of the third dimension was the ability of the City and BP Amoco to perpetuate the notion that the public had little or no reason to participate in the BP Amoco investigation. Our study showed that the City and BP Amoco successfully manipulated language and symbols meaningful to the Sugar Creek community while simultaneously ignoring CLEANUP. The latent message was that at best CLEANUP was perceived by these institutions as insignificant and at worst that it was disloyal to the community. It explains why CLEANUP emerged as the only organization to oppose the status quo related to the investigation and why the larger community did not publicly react

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to the marginalization of their neighbors. Gould (1991, 1992) illustrated how industrial polluters (via social, political and economic resources) could generate self-serving public opinion in host communities. He argued these entities often emphasized their role in the local economy and its role in the ‘‘collective good.’’ Those who expressed or acted upon views counter to this notion were discredited as ‘‘anti-community’’ or ‘‘anti-economy.’’ Gould’s analyses are consistent with the emergence of the third dimension of social power as it appeared to unfold in Sugar Creek.

Limitations of Study This qualitative community case study, which emphasized depth versus breadth, allowed for the collection and analysis of descriptive data from multiple sources. The openended nature of the interview method was employed to facilitate the inclusion of experiences common across and unique to individuals. Combined with analyses of multiple data sources our study accommodated explorations of patterns across data sets. Findings that emerged across data sources from different parties suggest good convergence, but unknown reliability of qualitative analyses may be seen as a limitation of this study, as only the first author engaged in analyses. However, as is common in qualitative research, interview narratives and other texts became redundant, or came ‘‘full circle.’’ This suggests that a fairly representative story emerged here (Lincoln and Guba 1998). As with all qualitative research, sample size and the sample’s representativeness (with respect to interview data) might be viewed as a limitation. Moreover, there are many hazardous waste sites, and one can only speculate about the extent to which participants’ experiences corroborate or conflict with others’ experiences of similar processes. The generalizability of our findings is limited as they did not include interviews with members of the public who did not participate in the BP Amoco investigation. As Gaventa (1980) demonstrated in his study of non-participation in Appalachia, this would likely have yielded important information about public participation in the BP Amoco investigation and in particular, how ‘‘official’’ vehicles were perceived by the public. Balancing this limitation is the focus of our study on those who were extensively involved in participatory processes related to the BP Amoco investigation, rather than those who were not.

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Kelly 1966, 1987; Seidman 1988; Trickett 1984), with little or no opportunity for effective participation in the RCRA process, some members of the Sugar Creek public adapted by forming CLEANUP to defend and promote their interests. In fact, our data suggested that CLEANUP’s influence on the investigation in this case appeared to be most effective through collective engagement in ‘‘unofficial’’ processes. However, influence is relative and does not equate to true decision-making power. To facilitate genuine participation, RCRA policy and other similar hazardous waste policies must be altered to facilitate more than marginal community influence. This would require collective action at a national level and would almost certainly be resisted by those whose interests would not be served by such a change. This said, the three-dimensional view of social power warns that merely changing public participation policy to require ‘‘true democratic decisionmaking’’ will not ensure all people or issues will have access to the decision-making arena, nor that people will recognize that participation is needed or possible. Finding solutions to the toxic contamination of neighborhoods that meaningfully and effectively involve all relevant parties will require more than incremental policy change. Generally, the published discourse in community psychology has reflected little dialogue about social power. However, several community psychologists have called for more discussion about how power operates in community life and have argued that such would enhance community psychology theory, research and action (e.g., Angelique and Culley 2007; Prilleltensky 2001, 2003; Speer and Hughey 1995; Speer et al. 2003). This study provides one example of how we might move forward in our discussion about power. Further, public participation in hazardous waste disputes has significant implications for research that addresses power and social change processes. In particular, future research about participation in hazardous waste (and other) disputes would be well served by exploration of the extent to which organizations understand and employ instruments of power (Peterson and Zimmerman 2004; Speer et al. 2003). Research that moves away from individual, fault-focused approaches to systems analyses enlarges the scope of potential directions for change. The events that unfolded in Sugar Creek, and which occur in other communities like it, have much to teach community researchers about these complex and layered relationships.

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