Survivors of Bhopal’s toxic gas leak await a cleanup, 40 years later

It doesn’t surprise Raeesa that it has taken this long for the government of India’s Madhya Pradesh state, of which Bhopal is the capital, to start clearing some of the toxic waste from the factory site — or that the effort has already been stalled by fresh controversy over the removal process.

By Swati Gupta

For Raeesa Bi, the latest turn in the four-decade tale of the world’s worst industrial accident conjures up old ghosts. Sitting on a beat-up wooden chair in her small ramshackle home, the 68-year-old victims’ rights activist rattles off the names of all the people she knew who have died since that dreadful December night. It is a long list, and includes fellow activists, neighbors and several members of her own family — all victims, directly or indirectly, of the gas leak in Union Carbide’s pesticides factory in Bhopal, India.

“My anger is with the government. They made all the decisions,” says Raeesa. “We got little compensation, we are still standing in courtrooms for justice and we still don’t get the right medical treatment.”

It doesn’t surprise Raeesa (“Bi” is an honorific; she doesn’t use a surname) that it has taken this long for the government of India’s Madhya Pradesh state, of which Bhopal is the capital, to start clearing some of the toxic waste from the factory site — or that the effort has already been stalled by fresh controversy over the removal process. Along with corporate culpability, residents say governmental apathy and administrative incompetence have attended the tragedy from the very beginning.

Raeesa is resigned about the consequences, especially for victims from poor families. “The people who have died or will die are always like us,” she says.

The state government plans to incinerate 337 metric tons (743,000 pounds) of waste on the outskirts of Pithampur, an industrial town 200 kilometers (124 miles) away from Bhopal. But protests have erupted there among residents who are unconvinced that enough has been done to ensure their safety.

Raeesa can relate to their anxiety. She recalls in grim detail the events of Dec 3, 1984, when a malfunction at the pesticides factory, operated by Union Carbide’s Indian subsidiary, released more than 40 tons of methyl isocyanate gas. While the town slept, the gas began to move downwind, enveloping the slums around it. As people woke up vomiting and coughing, panic broke out. Thousands took to the streets in an attempt to outrun the smoke, inadvertently inhaling more gas.

The next morning, the streets were littered with bodies: More than 3,500 people died, and hundreds of thousands were exposed to the toxic chemicals. “We could not find coffins for our dead. People were transporting the dead in their arms or on beds to the cemeteries,” Raeesa remembers. “There was no one to stand at funerals because so many were dead.”

After the tragedy, more victims would be added to the death toll, many due to inadequate medical treatment. Raeesa would lose two daughters, her husband and her father-in-law over the next four years, even though she spent every rupee she could scrounge up on medicines and daily transportation to hospitals.

In 1989, India’s Supreme Court reached a settlement for $470 million (equivalent to $1.2 billion today) with Union Carbide, and mapped out the distribution of relief based on the level of injury or impairment. The settlement amount was to be spread over a highly conservative estimate of 40,000 cases, including deaths. Raeesa says she received the equivalent of $15,000 in 1990, and a second tranche of $16,500 some 20 years later.

In contrast, DuPont de Nemours Inc. and Chemours Co. agreed to a $4 billion settlement in 2015 to resolve about 3,600 lawsuits for the use of harmful chemicals in the US.

For decades, victims and activists in Bhopal have demanded that they be provided satisfactory monetary compensation, especially for those who developed health issues years after the leak. They also want the plant site cleaned up and the people responsible for the accident held accountable. But the authorities have moved slowly, and often with half-measures.

The clean-up is a good example. Activists say the 337 metric tons of waste slated for incineration is a fraction of the waste in the abandoned factory. It doesn’t include chemicals that, according to a report by India’s government, were dumped in landfills on the site. According to a 2004 Amnesty International study, waste leached into the ground, contaminating the groundwater.

“The government has failed in assessing the magnitude of the disaster and its impact,” says N D Jayaprakash, co-convener of the Coalition for the Support of Bhopal Gas Victims, which advocates on behalf of local residents.

The state government did not respond to Bloomberg’s requests for comment. In a Jan 2 press conference, Madhya Pradesh’s chief minister, Mohan Yadav, defended the disposal plan, saying the waste was “not at all harmful,” and accusing the opposition Congress Party of exaggerating the dangers for political purposes.

Aqeel Ahmed was 4 years old at the time of the leak and lived within the exposure radius. When he was 25, doctors told him one of his kidneys was so shriveled that it wasn’t even showing up on scans; the other was failing. He has been on dialysis since 2006, a cost he can ill afford. “My family and I are financially ruined,” Ahmed says.

Rahilla Khan, 40, lives across the street from the site. She is due to have surgery to remove cysts in her uterus, joining a long list of women born around the time of the leak who have had to undergo the procedure. “The government has done nothing for 40 years,” she says. Officials “come and make speeches on the anniversary of the leak, but they do nothing.” Her family received 25,000 rupees (worth around $1,500 at the time) as compensation.

In 2001, Dow Chemical Co, the largest US chemicals maker, bought Union Carbide for nearly $10 billion and issued a statement that all liabilities had been settled in the Bhopal case.

Responding to Bloomberg’s enquiries, a Dow spokesperson said via email: “It is important to recognize that The Dow Chemical Company never owned or operated the plant; it was owned and operated by Union Carbide India Limited. Union Carbide Corporation (which itself was a separate company from UCIL) did not become a subsidiary of [Dow Chemical] until more than 16 years after the tragedy, and 12 years after the $470 million Bhopal settlement agreement — paid by Union Carbide Corporation and UCIL — was approved by the Indian Supreme Court. The plant site today is under the control of the Madhya Pradesh government.”

In 2010, a Madhya Pradesh court convicted seven employees of Union Carbide’s Indian subsidiary to two years in prison. They appealed to a higher court and were granted bail for the same amount that Khan’s family received as compensation 40 years ago; the convictions continue to be challenged in a higher court.

At the site today, near the heart of a city of more than 2.5 million people, the pesticides factory still stands, overrun by weeds. Gaps in the walls allow easy access to the 90-acre property. Children from the slums play cricket on one end, heedless of the danger. State policemen who are meant to keep people out joke that the grounds are haunted by tens of thousands of ghosts.

Raeesa remembers many of them. In addition to more compensation and better medical treatment for victims, she would like to see a memorial to the dead erected at the site. “This is not a small thing for us,” she says. “It is important for our dead.”