Mortensen, Peter. “Reading Material.” Written Communication 18.4 (2001): 395-443. Print.
In this article, Peter Mortensen traces papermaking as the manifestation of “toxic discourse” associated with literacy. He looks at the environmental degradation and simultaneous low literacy rates in the Southern region where the U.S. paper manufacturing makes its home. He cites this concurrence as the material and social costs of “uneven and unjust literacy development.”
He notes that, although papermaking pollutes the air, land, and water and contains chemicals hazardous to human health, its manufacturing processes typically happen in rural locations that obscure its consequences from those who most frequently engage in the literacy practices that demand paper production in the first place.
Not only is paper manufacturing located in areas where there are fewer people consuming print materials, but, as Mortensen suggests, the environmental devastation that follows papermaking actually works to reduce literacy rates among the populations that are found in the rural South where mills are based. Or, as he puts it, “literacy tied to the mass consumption of print—the literacy of cities and suburbs—might be implicated, at least partially, in the suppression of literacies near the rural manufacturing communities that make such consumption possible” (397). He juggles arguments “on whether supposedly natural causes (geography and genetics) or social forces (economic and environmental exploitation) are responsible” for the perceptions about low Southern literacy rates. This leads him to conclude, as impetus for the article, that:
We need, in addition, to appreciate literacy as a material practice bound up in cycles of production, consumption, and waste whose outcomes are felt unevenly across regions in the United States and increasingly, across regions worldwide. Such an appreciation is, of course, an impetus to further scholarly inquiry, but also, as I explain in my conclusion, a call to social action. (398)
Mortensen is careful to note that his evidence is circumstantial, and that much of it comes from local narratives, where impassioned rhetorics by local stakeholders that might be suspect in academic proofs have more baring in the public arena.
Reviewing historical trends of literacy in the South, Mortensen finds a correlation between the increasing production of paper in the region and the decrease in print matter consumption by locals (401). Just as Northerners were increasingly provided narratives about “illiterate Southerners,” we saw “the emergence of regionally uneven demand for print material” (401). He draws a parallel here to the turn of the century industrial settlement of Appalachia, which “depended on the circulation of stories that presented so-called mountaineers as illiterate and therefore unequal to the task of exploiting the natural resources surrounding them” (401). [Connected to Wallerstein’s European Universalism, this is interesting… and raises important questions for me in Chapter Three, connected to ownership of mines/manufacturing in the Congo…how U.S. electronics industries first gained access to African conflict mineral supply chains.]
As a case study, Mortensen takes up Champion International and its mill in Cocke County, Tennessee, where the Pigeon River flows. While recounting a state then federal lawsuit for property damage against Champion International, he turns to former University of Tennessee president Charles Dabney as an example of how literacy sponsors can sometimes have “commitments that complicate their efforts to support literate institutions” (402-3). He notes Dabney’s frequent public addresses wherein he recounts the South’s low literacy rates, which in turn shores up demand for his own institution’s higher education services. M notes a concurrent newspaper report about the lack of county investment in public education, followed by an article describing a meeting with Dabney, Champion International’s mill superintendent, and the governor of Tennessee, wherein Dabney claimed to have invented an process to mitigate for the mill’s environmental impact on the Pigeon (it didn’t). Mortensen next reveals family ties between Champion and Dabney, explaining their conspiracy. Based upon the interests of these powerful players and a comparison of literacy, work, and education factors between Cocke county and an adjacent county without a paper mill, Mortensen draws the conclusion that:
Champion’s pollution of the east Tennessee environment had measurable consequences for literacy in the area. Following Dykeman’s logic, public money lost when businesses locate elsewhere, and public money spent coping with environmental degradation, is, plausibly, public money not invested in building more and better local institutions supportive of various literacies. (405)
While Mortensen does note the lesser investment of public funds into schools in Cocke County, he is careful to push back on notions of school-sponsored literacies as the only or most significant varieties. He argues, rather, that “it is just as important to appreciate how narrow definitions of literacy have been formulated and why they continue to be powerfully consequential” (411).
Further, investigating the ways in which “toxic discourse” links manufacturing and other corporate behavior with cancer-causing toxins and other public health concerns, Mortensen notes that “the rhetorical constituents of toxic dis- course depend on a figuration of literacy as purely cultural, without a substantial link to the material practices of production, consumption, and waste described in this article” (414). This is in part ascribed to the fact that groups using toxic discourse for self-advocacy rely on the notion that literacy can serve their interests and “[celebrate] it as enabling victims of environmental pollution to talk back to power, to effect positive change” (415). He insists that those groups must include nuanced considerations of literacy, and its unjust and uneven development, however, because:
But that testimony will be incomplete if toxic discourse fails to account for the fact that literacy as we know it today, the mass consumption of print material, produces massive amounts of toxic waste. And it will be more than incomplete: It will be maliciously negligent if we fail to acknowledge that this toxicity is least visible where demand for print is greatest and most deeply felt—in damage to liter- ate institutions, as I have argued—where demand for print is least. (415-6)
As a final gesture, Mortensen argues that we must not remain satisfied in the analysis that “something so seemingly natural as literacy might, in practice, have unnatural effects that are profoundly unjust in their distribution” (416). He argues that, instead we must take material action, though this is difficult due to the complexity and circumstantial nature of his case and the overall situation. Reviewing several suggestions regarding changing practices institutional and citizen paper consumption, Mortensen points out that “Critical here, just as in the PTF scheme, is the circulation of timely, accurate information and the ability of consumers to understand it.” He also suggests that the papermaking-literacy puzzle might be interrogated in writing and research course curricula.
Interestingly, Mortensen moves to the global nature of the papermaking and publishing industries, noting how the complexity of the global production, supply, and circulation networks can obscure our ability to understand the material costs of literacy as well as the literacy costs involved, arguing that:
What often goes unspoken is that global operations enable a flexible response to domestic developments that can threaten profits: health, safety, and environmental regulation among them. This flexibility may enhance shareholder value, but it has the potential to diminish what we can know about the consequences of the paper manufacturing process. (418)
He concludes, powerfully, that:
…it remains our responsibility, as persons who profess expert knowledge about the cultural and cognitive dimensions of literacies, to understand as fully as possible the material implications of literacies and to act decisively to ameliorate those literacies’ potentially toxic legacies. (421-22)
Quotes
My contention is that as we struggle to comprehend the cognitive, cultural, and technological implications of various literacies, we should also think critically about the mundane materials—paper, ink, glue—that enable many of them. Such critical thought could lead us to the conclusion, as I propose at the end of this article, that we take steps to inform ourselves much more deeply about the material processes (and their possible consequences) that make the stuff of reading and writing cheap and plentiful in North America today. (396)
However, the toxicity of papermaking is usually invisible to the consumers of print material: invisible in the real sense that, as I have said, paper mills are generally located at some distance from population centers, and invisible economically because at least until recently, the toll papermaking has taken in land spoiled and lives lost has not been figured into what we pay for newspapers, books, writing tablets, and so on. (397)
But the alignment of paper, printing, and publishing resources abroad does make it difficult to know about the consequences of manufacturing processes, especially papermaking, for workers and for those who must subsist in the environments touched by those processes. (420)
Citations:
In the early 1990s, academics began offering incisive critiques of such discourse on literacy (e.g., Apple, 1993; Donald, 1992; Gee, 1993; Giroux,1993; Macedo, 1994; Street, 1984; Stuckey, 1991).






