Asbestos: Why a Fiber Banned Across Europe Is Still Killing People

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Overview

Asbestos is widely seen as a problem of the past. It has been banned in dozens of countries, and in the United States its use has been heavily restricted for decades. This ARTE documentary argues that this view is mistaken. The fiber still sits in millions of square meters of ageing buildings. Ships and waste exported from wealthy countries carry it to poorer ones. A handful of producing nations still mine and market it aggressively. The film cites World Health Organization estimates that asbestos kills between 100,000 and 120,000 people every year and is responsible for half of all work-related illness. It asks two questions: will asbestos extraction and use ever be banned worldwide, and can the victims fighting to put public health ahead of private profit succeed?

19 min read
9:14

A "miracle fiber" built into everything

The narration describes asbestos as a mineral fiber that occurs naturally in some rocks, in types such as amphibole and chrysotile. Asbestos was known in antiquity, but large-scale exploitation began after 1860, when big deposits were found around the world. Its qualities made it look like a miracle material. It was flexible, cheap, a good insulator, and resistant to bad weather, heat and fire. It was first used in textiles. From the early 1950s the construction industry adopted it. Archive advertising in the film urges viewers to consider it for the walls of their home, promising "a troublefree lifetime" like an asbestos roof.

For decades asbestos went into houses, offices, ships and planes. Public buildings were no exception: hospitals, museums, universities and schools all used it, as did pipes beneath cities. One interviewee says building products are the most likely to endanger millions of people: construction workers, residents, and the people who work inside those buildings. In the interviewee's words, these products "by design" cause a tremendous amount of exposure.

Germany was part of this rush. Before its 1993 ban, asbestos was used across millions of square meters of building space, including some unexpected places. The film mentions a police shooting facility where about 400 officers have reported health concerns. The narration stresses that this figure is rough and preliminary, and probably far too low, because asbestos diseases appear only after a long delay.

14:27

How the fiber damages the body, and why the harm stays hidden

The film explains why asbestos is called a "ticking time bomb." The fibers are odorless, 500 times thinner than a human hair, and can keep splitting. Once inhaled, they travel to the bottom of the lungs and lodge in the tissue. Defense cells that try to destroy them break down and die in the attempt. A physician lists the symptoms: persistent shortness of breath, a dry cough, and swollen fingertips, known as clubbing. The fibers can stay in the lungs for a long time and cause asbestosis, lung cancer, and pleural cancer, or mesothelioma.

One specialist calls the development of mesothelioma "a very mysterious process" that is still poorly understood, takes years even in heavily exposed people, and is very hard to fight once it appears. Another expert says ten years is about the minimum before disease shows up. Most cases appear 30 or 40 years after exposure, and they can continue to appear even later. The same expert says people misunderstand warnings to "avoid dust" because they picture dust they can see. Asbestos has been known since the 1930s to be lethal at concentrations invisible to the eye.

The documentary gives a short history of official inaction. The first scientific reports on the dangers appeared around 1930, and authorities ignored them. In the 1960s, studies showed a surge in occupational diseases linked to the fiber, and authorities again turned a deaf ear. Protests and lawsuits against producers and states increased. Only in the 1980s did European countries begin banning its use.

4:45

Badia del Vallès: the cost and pace of removal

To show how big the clean-up task is, the film goes to Badia del Vallès, a suburb of Barcelona. Every building in this 1970s workers' settlement contains asbestos, and so does the roof of the church in the town center, which is made of asbestos-containing fiber cement. Every building is clad in fiber-cement panels. The narration notes that this material is generally not dangerous unless it is damaged.

The town's mayor has vowed to rid the town of asbestos during her term. Removal is underway and is expected to cost €20 million. The town is poor and its budget small. Over the past 15 years only about 30 buildings have been dealt with, and more than 170 remain. The narration concludes that at this rate the work will take several more decades, even though the risk is "clear and present."

The issue is personal for the mayor. She and her family have lived in the same building for more than 20 years. She has promised residents she will not move until the whole town has been cleared of asbestos.

17:36

France: the ruins of Canari and the scale of the task

Asbestos has been banned in France since 1997. The film visits the village of Canari in Corsica, site of what was France's largest asbestos mine, which once produced 28,000 tons of mineral a year. Access to the polluted site is now forbidden, and the narration compares a visit to stepping into a science-fiction film. Engineers come to check the stability of the foundations, because a collapse could release fibers into the air. Local authorities once hoped to renovate the site but gave up because of the scale of the constraints involved.

Workers on sites like this are trained at specialized facilities, of which Europe has hundreds. One center near Toulouse, which manages hazardous materials, trains 900 asbestos-removal workers a year. The film then gives its own estimate: it will take 100 years and billions of euros to eliminate asbestos in France. It asks how long the rest of Europe would need. Most countries are not yet considering the question at all. Only 67 states have adopted a ban, so most of the world's population is still exposed every day.

22:10

Russia's Asbest: the world's largest mine and a town that defends it

A few countries still produce asbestos, including China and Kazakhstan. Russia leads the list and exports 600,000 tons a year. In the town of Asbest, at the gates of Siberia and 1,700 km from Moscow, the company Uralasbest runs the world's largest asbestos mine. The film reports it as 12 km long, 3 km wide and 350 m deep, supplying a quarter of the world's chrysotile.

The film interviews an asbestos engineer who worked for Uralasbest before being elected as a Communist representative to the local Duma. Much of the interview is not translated in the available material. The narration says her favorable view of chrysotile is widely shared by residents, whose homes are a few hundred meters from the mine. Posters around town carry slogans such as "stay fit with Uralasbest," "I love asbestos," and a message near the clinic calling on people to protect their country and their town. Since her election, the narration says, she has criticized working conditions in the mine. She recalls that in the Communist era asbestos was considered dangerous to workers.

The film stresses how little is visible officially. There are no statistics or official figures for asbestos-related illness in the region, and doctors at the local hospital refused to speak. The narration says the victims are invisible to the authorities. It reports that Russian authorities and producers present asbestos bans as a Western conspiracy to damage the Russian economy. Uralasbest is the town's largest employer, with 8,500 workers, and according to the film it regularly tells its factories that workers should not talk to the media.

33:03

Canada: a mining town reinvents itself

To show what happens when a mine closes, the film goes to Canada. The town of Asbestos in Quebec was also named after the mineral, and the mine was a major employer in the province. When Canada banned asbestos mining, the local economy took a heavy blow. At its peak, the Jeffrey mine employed 1,800 people. Its former head is described as still deeply bitter about the campaign that led to the ban. The narration adds that he is a member of the International Chrysotile Association, which denies that this type of asbestos harms human health.

The mine left mountains of tailings that contain leftover asbestos but also magnesium, a sought-after raw material. To revive the regional economy, the federal government granted special exploitation rights to companies including Alliance Magnesium. According to the film, the company uses a chemical process to neutralize the asbestos residue and keep only the metal.

The town has also tried to redefine itself. The old mine pit is now an artificial lake, and the town renamed itself Val-des-Sources, "the valley of the springs." On summer weekends, residents and tourists gather at a market overlooking the view. The mayor wants to add a lakeside campsite and a nautical center offering windsurfing and pedal boats. The narration asks whether this is "life-saving resilience or deep denial." It notes that official figures are clear: according to the National Institute of Public Health, people living near the mines have four times as many asbestos-related diseases as the rest of Canada.

The film follows Daniel Green of Canada's Green Party, who has worked on toxic substances in the environment for 30 years. Most of his on-camera explanation is untranslated in the source. The film shows him and his wife taking samples, which were sent to the ITGA laboratory in France. There they were examined first under an optical microscope and then under an electron microscope magnifying up to 10,000 times. The narration calls the results "unequivocal" and says Green's fears were confirmed: whenever the local river overflows, it contaminates the towns downstream and exposes more people in Quebec.

50:16

Bangladesh: shipbreaking on the beaches of Chittagong

The documentary's most extensive case of exported risk is in Bangladesh. In Chittagong, wrecked cargo ships and supertankers lie on the beaches, waiting to be dismantled by workers without protective equipment. Most of these ships contain tons of asbestos. The narration says local doctors and NGOs have warned about this for years without effect, and dock workers have been dying of diseases linked to asbestos and other toxic products in the ships. Some former workers who agree to testify can barely speak.

At a local clinic, doctors see patients with respiratory problems every day. One physician says he cannot be 100 percent certain, but professionally he diagnoses one patient as an asbestos victim exposed for 30 to 35 years. The patient's lungs and heart are now so damaged that he cannot work. Another interviewee estimates that about 50,000 workers and staff are involved in the shipbreaking industry and that about 33 percent of them suffer from asbestosis. He adds that workers cannot afford costly treatment, and that the diseases are incurable anyway: "even if you have huge amount of money it will eventually kill you."

The risk spreads beyond the yards. Everything on the ships is salvaged and sold: metal, accessories, lifeboats, life jackets, down to the last buoy. Each shop specializes in something, and some deal in recovered asbestos. One dealer, Mr. Bimol, shows off its properties and stresses its "high quality." Workers handling it usually have only a scarf or a piece of fabric over their mouths, with no gloves or masks. According to the film, thousands of tons are recovered this way each year and are usually sent to Dhaka for reuse on construction sites. Because it insulates and resists fire, it is also popular for building home ovens.

The film points to the wider environmental hazard. Piles of asbestos sit by the roadside without warnings or covering, open to anyone passing. They also appear in slums where the poorest people live because they have nowhere else to go. Thanks to NGO work, some of these families know the risks.

An interviewee places the main responsibility on exporting countries. He says Western and developed countries send vessels to Bangladesh knowing they contain asbestos. He argues that many Bangladeshis may not know the danger because the country is poor and many people lack education, but the senders cannot claim the same ignorance: "You are part of the ploy. You're part of the corruption." He describes the system as corrupt and sustained by the indulgence exporting governments show ship owners. Early in the film he says Western governments must recognize they are "committing a crime against humanity" by sending toxic vessels to countries like Bangladesh.

1:04:37

Colombia: Eternit, Sibaté and a law named after a victim

The film extends Western responsibility to companies. It says Eternit, which it describes as a joint Swiss, Belgian and French company, kept manufacturing and selling asbestos products in Latin America, particularly Colombia, for well over 20 years. Meanwhile, trials and convictions against the company were piling up in Italy, Switzerland and elsewhere in Europe.

Sibaté, the town closest to Eternit's main Colombian plant, drew the attention of scientists. Juan Pablo Ramos Bonilla, an associate professor at the University of the Andes, worked with Benjamin Lysaniuk of the French Research Institute for Development. The narration says six years of rigorous research produced alarming results. They drilled holes to analyze soil in places including the football pitch and the primary school. The narration asks how a city's soil could be so full of friable asbestos. Residents have their own explanations. Part of the answer, according to the film, comes from Amelia, who runs a hair salon. Her husband, a municipal employee who did landscaping, died a few years ago of mesothelioma. Her detailed testimony is not translated in the available material.

Since January 2022, Eternit can no longer use asbestos in Colombia, after the country adopted a ban following what the narration calls a fierce fight with producers. A journalist, Ana Cecilia Niño, was central to that fight. In 2014, a year after her daughter Sofía was born, she was diagnosed with mesothelioma. With her husband Daniel, she spoke for all asbestos victims in the media, on social media and in Congress. The Colombian ban now carries her name: the Ana Cecilia Niño Robles law. Daniel's fight continues in court, where the company denies any responsibility for his wife's death.

1:18:17

The producers' message: "chrysotile" without the word "asbestos"

The film then looks at how producers promote their product. Specialists say they know the industry's methods and talking points well, and the internet is its preferred channel, including several YouTube channels. One promotional clip claims chrysotile use is under thorough control at the production stage, and that modern technology and labor-protection rules exclude any negative effect of the fibers on workers. As evidence, it says employees work in chrysotile deposits and factories for dozens of years.

Asia consumes 60 percent of global production, so producers target it specifically, with films tailored to each country, including Bollywood-style productions for India and Bangladesh. The narration notes that the word "asbestos" has been removed from these campaigns and replaced with "chrysotile" and "white asbestos," presented as harmless. The message has also appeared on Vietnamese television.

Experts in the film reject this framing. One compares it to tobacco: all tobacco is bad for health, and so is all asbestos, with no question of a good or bad type. Another says 60 years of science show chrysotile is not safe. In this expert's view, the people who claim otherwise are those who mine and sell it, who have a vested interest in "perpetuating this lie," and who are killing people by selling it.

1:21:11

The waste problem: landfill, illegal dumping and vitrification

While production continues, countries that have banned asbestos still face millions of tons of contaminated waste. According to the film, the cheapest and most common solution is landfill. Ihlenberg in Germany is one of Europe's largest hazardous-waste sites and buries 8,000 to 10,000 tons of asbestos a year under a very strict protocol. The narration calls Germany "miles ahead" in Europe on waste management but notes several controversies. One landfill in Saxony drew media attention and local anger. Residents' main worry was not knowing where the waste came from, and the press reported that some of it came from Italy. An investigative reporter who specializes in toxic waste first broke that story.

Illegal dumping is another problem in Germany. Disposal is expensive, so contractors and companies often get rid of asbestos quietly. The film introduces a former contractor who developed cancer and now devotes himself to tracking down illegal asbestos dumps.

Alternatives exist. The film describes a company in the south of France using technology originally developed for the aerospace industry in the 1960s. It processes 6,000 tons of containerized asbestos waste a year, crushing it and melting it into lava. Once cooled, the resulting volcanic rock can be safely used to build roads and motorways. But this process treats only 2 percent of France's asbestos waste, and the narration concludes that the waste question "remains unsolved."

1:28:41

A legacy larger than the numbers

The film closes with the global picture. According to its figures, 1.2 million tons of asbestos are still sold every year, 3,000 asbestos products remain in circulation worldwide, and the death toll keeps rising. One expert says the long gap between exposure and disease means many people never learn they were exposed. Many cases stay hidden because no one asked, no one knew to ask, or no one realized a product contained asbestos. In this expert's view, the legacy of asbestos is "far greater than the numbers show" and will last a long time.

Another speaker calls it a criminal industry: "This is not a legitimate business... It's not like selling bananas. This is a business that's building its fortune on death." Earlier in the film, the same voice argues that the people in this trade don't deserve courtesy from any government in the world.

The narration ends without resolution. Despite the deaths, the science and the evidence, it says, the deadly fiber "still has a bright future ahead." The film leaves its opening questions unanswered: whether a global ban will ever come, and whether the victims' campaigns will prevail over the producers.