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 pro-
cesses or participants’ experiences of them were consistent
with the three-dimensional view of power (Gaventa, Power
and powerlessness: quiescence and rebellion in an appa-
lacian 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: mculley@gsu.edu
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 ‘‘synergis-
tic’’ 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 over-
looked, much of the published discourse about power in the
field is limited, as it tends to ignore the less palatable con-
flictual characteristics of power. There are some exceptions.
For example, Newbrough (1995) warned we should not
be ‘‘naı̈ve’’ about conflict and power. Speer and Hughey
(1995) explicitly employed Lukes’ (1974) three-dimen-
sional 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) docu-
mented 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 psy-
chology 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 naı̈ve view of
power then, one may unwittingly limit the possibility of
alternative solution(s) thereby perpetuating unjust circum-
stances 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 haz-
ardous 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’ experi-
ences 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 cor-
poration from Eastern Europe (Dobson 1999; Kruckeberg
and Starck 1988). In 1904 BP Amoco began petroleum-
refining 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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Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114
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 liter-
ature 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 oper-
ations 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 ‘‘Pump-
kin 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 gal-
lons 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 ground-
water 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
Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114
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 com-
munity 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 com-
munity. 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 communi-
ties 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 con-
taminated 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 phe-
nomena (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.
Guiding Theoretical Framework: Three Dimensions of
Social Power
The scholarship on social power has, over time, largely
adopted a multi-dimensional view of power. Early writers
101
(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 inde-
pendent 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 uni-
dimensional theory of power (e.g., emphasis on overt
behavior), a second dimension of social power was devel-
oped (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 decision-
making 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 partici-
pation 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).
Third Dimension of Power: Shaping Interests
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 one-
and two-dimensional views of power. The third dimension
is generally thought to manifest as the ability of the rela-
tively 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 manipu-
lated ‘‘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’’ participa-
tory 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 implemen-
tation 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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Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114
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, presen-
tations, public comment, e-mails, phone calls, letter-
writing, 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 reg-
ulatory processes instigated by the closure of the refinery in
1982, the extent of suspected on- and off-site contamina-
tion, 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 Negli-
gence 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 slow-
moving investigation, and the desire to adequately address the
pollution of their neighborhood.
Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114
Phenomena of Interest
• Participatory Processes set into motion by
implementation of “official” vehicles
• Participants’ Experiences of these processes
Data Generation
Interviews
Focus Group Focus Group Focus Group
E-Mail
Minutes Agendas Video
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
103
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 investiga-
tion. Notably, this allowed her to attend the bulk of public
meetings related to the BP Amoco investigation. Further,
Newsletters
given the researcher’s familiarity with all parties and that
CLEANUP members consistently expressed an interest in
evaluation of their experiences related to public partici-
pation, 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 infor-
mants, 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) func-
tioned 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 representa-
tives 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 Out-
reach 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., agendas of the meetings were noted and transcribed ver-
Site Manager and Public Relations Director) refused to batim for textual analysis.
participate in interviews, citing lack of time and a concern
that such participation would not likely serve the com-
E-mail ‘‘Listserv’’ Correspondence
pany’s interests.4 It is perhaps important to note that with
the exception of CLEANUP members (who did not
E-mail correspondence functioned as an informal ‘‘list-
socialize with one another before the formation of their
serv’’ to facilitate communication among the citizen group
organization) the researchers do not know the extent to
CLEANUP and others involved in the investigation. All
which participants’ social networks overlapped. Intervie-
e-mail correspondence between CLEANUP and others
wees were asked to talk about their experiences as
involved in the BP Amoco Focus Group was compiled for
representatives of their respective institutions. The extent
analysis (n = 2,498). CLEANUP members systematically
to which our data might have been shaped by overlapping
and publicly copied the first author in their ‘‘listserv’’
social networks is unknown.
communications. An archive of these data was created, and
each e-mail was printed and catalogued by date for textual
Document Data Sources analyses.

With other data sources, documents were used to analyze

the nature of participatory process and participants’ expe- Newsletters
riences. Documents obtained for analyses included those
related to the BP Amoco Focus Group, e-mail ‘‘listserv’’ BP Amoco and the City of Sugar Creek routinely distrib-
correspondence, and public newsletters that published uted newsletters to Sugar Creek residents. The City’s
information relevant to the investigation. monthly newsletter, Sweet Talk, occasionally published
articles about the BP Amoco investigation and announced
Focus Group meeting times. BP Amoco’s newsletter, BP
BP Amoco Focus Group Documents
Newsclips, was mailed to Sugar Creek residents about two
or three times a year. All newsletters mailed to residents by
The BP Amoco Focus Group functioned as the primary
the City (n = 35) and BP Amoco (n = 8) were analyzed.
‘‘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
Procedures for Data Collection
gather and discuss the BP Amoco investigation. All
meeting minutes, agendas and available video footage of
BP Amoco Focus Group Participant Interviews
the 15 Focus Group meetings that occurred during the
3-year timeframe for this study (between February 2000,
All interviews (n = 13) were conducted by the first author
the inception of the BP Amoco Focus Group, and
in locations chosen by participants, either at their place of
December 2002) were obtained for analysis. While agendas
employment (n = 8) or residence. Participants were
and minutes were analyzed in their entirety, video footage
interviewed using an adapted version of Berg’s (1989)
was used solely to verify the accuracy and completeness of
‘‘unstandardized interview’’ technique. Interviews lasted
meeting agendas and minutes. To ensure that events that
about 1.5 hours. Informed consent was obtained, and all
unfolded during the meetings but not captured in the
but one participant indicated their name could be reported
agendas or meeting minutes were accessed for analyses,
with their comments. Therefore, with consent, names and/
discrepancies between video footage and the minutes and
or job titles of participants are used throughout this paper.5
3 To ensure accuracy, interviews were audio-recorded and
These individuals represented the vast majority of those who
regularly attended and participated in the meetings, which averaged transcribed verbatim. Participants were provided with a
about 20 persons per meeting. Only city officials and CLEANUP copy of their interview transcript via e-mail so they could
members were residents of Sugar Creek and of those, all but one had review their transcript and make desired changes or addi-
lived there for 20 or more years. Additional demographic character- tions. Only one participant expressed the desire to clarify
istics were not collected. For more details see Culley (2004).
4
BP officials’ refusal to participate was somewhat surprising, given
5
that they routinely expressed an interest in this research. In fact, an CLEANUP members specifically requested that their names be
MDNR representative indicated to the researcher that BP Amoco’s used and noted their frustration with academic research that used
PR Director phoned him to inquire about whether MDNR would pseudonyms, which they argued made it more difficult for interested
participate and requested a follow-up phone call to discuss the content parties to find relevant information about public environmental
of the interview. investigations.

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Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114
one small portion of an interview and subsequently pro-
vided 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 par-
ticipation 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 par-
ticipants 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 pro-
cesses 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 observa-
tion (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 system-
atically 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
105
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 cat-
egories 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 rela-
tionships 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 cate-
gories of ‘‘Official’’ and ‘‘Unofficial’’ vehicles for public
participation. To describe participants’ experiences of par-
ticipatory processes the researcher created the (inductive,
anticipated) thematic category ‘‘General Challenges to
Public Participation.’’ Below these major thematic catego-
ries, 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 frac-
tured’’) was listed under the (anticipated) thematic category
‘‘General Challenges to Public Participation.’’ After itera-
tive 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’ experi-
ences 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 identi-
fied 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 par-
ticipatory form (see Culley 2004 for detailed analyses).
Other ancillary ‘‘official’’ vehicles included one ‘‘public
availability session,’’ akin to a poster session at an aca-
demic 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 par-
ticipation. ‘‘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., demonstra-
tions). 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 Steim-
bach 1997).
123
Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114
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 systemati-
cally 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 implemen-
tation of ‘‘official’’ vehicles for public participation
manifested in ways consistent with social power. Findings
about the nature of ‘‘official’’ and ‘‘unofficial’’ participa-
tory processes combined with those about how participants
experienced them suggested multiple and largely unac-
knowledged social processes, closely aligned with
dimensions of social power. It appeared all parties used
instruments of power to defend and promote their inter-
ests—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 maxi-
mized 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 investi-
gation. Here are two illustrations of how the first dimension
Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114
of power manifested: as the ‘‘official’’ and ‘‘unofficial’’
participatory processes unfolded.
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 indi-
cated 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
107
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).
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 regu-
lators’ 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 par-
ticipate 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 orga-
nization. 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 regula-
tors, as City officials had, about key issues in the ‘‘official’’
participatory realm.
7
Page numbers reflect transcript page numbers.
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108
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 resi-
dential 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 agen-
das or defining the terms and conditions of debate
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Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114
(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 investi-
gation. 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 investiga-
tion...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 investi-
gation were routinely met with obstacles (e.g., information
repository not updated for several months). As one regu-
lator 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 par-
ticipation 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
Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114
arose, there was no evidence of open discussion about key
issues related to how the Group would operate. Such dis-
cussion 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 appoin-
ted...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 Adminis-
trator] 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.
109
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 cer-
tain 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 resi-
dents 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 opportu-
nities 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 con-
sultant 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 self-
serving 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 regu-
latory agencies were ‘‘not for the people.’’ She said: ‘‘I feel
like we’re not protected the way that we think we’re sup-
posed 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: non-
decisions) in this case were used to systematically benefit
certain parties over others which necessarily disadvantaged
the latter. Their ‘‘neutrality’’ did in fact represent a posi-
tion—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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Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114
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 empiri-
cally 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 institu-
tional 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 His-
torical Center. The Amoco Center on Sterling will be
the site...this is a major milestone for the commu-
nity’s dream to preserve and honor Sugar Creek’s
past and another exciting step forward in the com-
munity’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 pro-
portional to the amount of information that their City puts out
there to them’’ (S. Salva, November 18, 2002, p. 10).
Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114
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 preserv-
ing 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 informa-
tion 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 dis-
credit 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’ com-
ments 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 pre-
sumptions 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
111
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 ‘‘disem-
powering’’ (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’ rec-
ommendations 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 posi-
tioned 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 success-
fully 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, manipu-
lation 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 manipu-
lation 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 com-
munity. It explains why CLEANUP emerged as the only
organization to oppose the status quo related to the inves-
tigation and why the larger community did not publicly react
123
112
to the marginalization of their neighbors. Gould (1991,
1992) illustrated how industrial polluters (via social, polit-
ical 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 anal-
ysis of descriptive data from multiple sources. The open-
ended 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 representa-
tive story emerged here (Lincoln and Guba 1998). As with
all qualitative research, sample size and the sample’s rep-
resentativeness (with respect to interview data) might be
viewed as a limitation. Moreover, there are many hazard-
ous waste sites, and one can only speculate about the extent
to which participants’ experiences corroborate or conflict
with others’ experiences of similar processes. The gener-
alizability of our findings is limited as they did not include
interviews with members of the public who did not par-
ticipate in the BP Amoco investigation. As Gaventa (1980)
demonstrated in his study of non-participation in Appala-
chia, 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 partici-
patory processes related to the BP Amoco investigation,
rather than those who were not.
Power, Community and Public Participation: Directions
for Future Research
Consistent with an ecological interpretation which is
central to community psychology (Bronfenbrenner 1977;
123
Am J Community Psychol (2008) 41:99–114
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 inter-
ests. 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 genu-
ine participation, RCRA policy and other similar hazardous
waste policies must be altered to facilitate more than
marginal community influence. This would require col-
lective 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 partici-
pation policy to require ‘‘true democratic decision-
making’’ 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 psy-
chology 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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