In September 2012, things in Canada changed. The incoming government of Quebec—the only Canadian province that was still producing asbestos—kept its promise to cancel a CAN$58 million loan that would have reopened the Jeffrey Mine. Announcing the plans, the then Industry Minister Christian Paradis said that the federal government would spend up to CAN$50 million on diversifying the economy in asbestos-mining areas. He also announced that Canada would no longer oppose adding white asbestos to the UN Rotterdam Convention, a list of hazardous substances to which trade restrictions apply.

While Quebec’s actions received some praise from anti-asbestos campaigners, many feel that the government of Canada has much more to do.

“The Canadian government does not support the science on asbestos,” says leading anti-asbestos campaigner Kathleen Ruff. “It has not banned asbestos in Canada. We still import thousands of products that contain asbestos. Those in government oppose the views of the whole Canadian and world scientific community,” says Ruff. “They are not stupid, so I can only conclude it’s cynically done for political expediency.

“The industry has hired scientists in the same way the tobacco industry did, who claim the risks are not there,” says Ruff. “Their research has been used to delay action to protect people from asbestos and to prevent it being banned. Many have been exposed and have died as a result. There’s no doubt it’s been very lucrative for those scientists who have gone down that path. But it’s also a complete betrayal of scientific independence and integrity, and of their responsibility as human beings not to harm others.”

New markets

In another tobacco industry parallel, the asbestos industry explored new markets as compensation claims and media criticism snowballed and governments tightened regulations. During the 1970s and 1980s, some large asbestos companies moved manufacture of particularly hazardous products to lower-income countries.

Funded by the Canadian and Quebec governments and mining companies, what is now the Chrysotile Institute sent delegations to Asia, Latin America and Africa to claim the mineral could be used safely. “When the UK and other developed countries stopped using it, the industry reinvented itself, creating a whole new geography of victims in developing countries,” says Ruff.

From a peak of 5 million tonnes around 1980, asbestos production fell to 2 million tonnes around two decades ago, and has hovered around that mark ever since. Russia accounts for half of world production, with the other large producers China, Brazil and Kazakhstan. As of April 2013, bans on all types of asbestos use were in place in 54 countries—fewer than the number in which it is still used. China and India consume the most, together taking almost half of world production. Thailand, Indonesia, Sri Lanka, Brazil and Russia use significant amounts.

In 2013, an attempt to add white asbestos to the Rotterdam Convention was blocked by Russia, Kazakhstan, Ukraine, Kyrgyzstan, Zimbabwe, India and Vietnam. Supporters of the move said it would have led to improved labelling, handling and safety regulations, and saved thousands of lives. Opponents said it would increase shipping and insurance costs.

The World Health Organization estimates that 107,000 people die every year as a result of occupational exposure to asbestos. In the UK, the Health and Safety Executive puts the figure at about 4,700: in 2011, 2,300 British people died from mesothelioma, 2,000 from other related lung cancers and 400 from asbestosis. Tradespeople are at particularly high risk.

Attempts to calculate likely future deaths have produced widely varying results over the years, partly because the greatest risks of developing mesothelioma come between 30 and 50 years after exposure. A 2010 study predicted that 61,000 men in the UK will die of mesothelioma between 2007 and 2050—compared with 30,000 between 1968 and 2007. The peak year for mortality was predicted to be 2016.

While most cases occur among those who work directly with materials containing asbestos, others become sick through more casual environmental exposure. In 2004 it was reported that hospital workers and school teachers ranked fourth and eighth respectively in a list of the most frequently cited occupations on mesothelioma death certificates, and that a quarter of U.S. deaths from the disease occurred in those who had not worked directly with it.

Some healthcare workers report that this proportion may be growing. Liz Darlison is a consultant nurse at University Hospitals of Leicester NHS Trust and a founder of Mesothelioma UK, which provides information and support for patients.

“It is still predominantly carpenters, joiners, laggers,” says Darlison. “But those of us who work with this disease are fearful because increasingly we are seeing more women and more people who’ve had casual exposure such as teachers, doctors, nurses, secretaries, and people who have sat of the knee of a dad who has worked with asbestos.”

No cure

Winston and Jennifer Bish still live in the pretty, well-kept home he built for them and their children in the 1970s. He is comfortable there and had hoped it would be where he would spend many years of happy, healthy retirement. Perhaps he’ll be lucky, but it’s a vision that could be robbed from him any day.

Bish, though, is much more concerned that others are informed of the dangers, so they do not end up in his shoes, than with blaming anyone for his condition. “I just hope that people are made more aware of the problems linked to asbestos. It’s still there in schools, offices and housing, and anyone who does DIY can come into contact with it. It can lay dormant for 40 to 50 years, and there’s no cure.”

“I enjoyed working in the building industry—very much so—but if I’d known the risks back then I wouldn’t have gone into it,” he says. “I realise now it was like playing Russian roulette. Some take the bullet, others don’t. I was one of the unlucky ones.”

In west London, meanwhile, a man carefully tapes up another red bag containing wet asbestos, then places it into a clear bag, which he also tapes up. The contractors remove their orange overalls, place them in a bag for disposal, then hoover each other down. Leaving the ‘dirty end’ of the three-stage airlock through plastic sheeting, they enter the middle stage, where they squirt water over their hair and masks. In the final ‘clean end’, they put on new overalls. The asbestos is taken away, destined for a hazardous waste landfill in Ipswich.

Their job is far from finished. The team will continue working at the hospital over three summers, as work can only be carried out when the heating is off. The contract for this work is worth over £400,000.

Given that asbestos could be present in any building refurbished or built before 2000 in the UK—homes, hospitals, schools, offices—it’s likely that the specialist removal companies will be busy for years to come. So too will be the clinics and hospitals dealing with the human casualties of the appalling legacy of a mineral called asbestos.

Read the full article. This article was commissioned by Mosaic, a new digital publication from the Wellcome Trust dedicated to exploring all strands of the science of life. It is reproduced under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence.

This piece originally appeared on newstatesman.com