Bhopal 2025: Expanding the Sacrifice Zone to Pithampur

In December 1984, a pesticide factory owned by Union Carbide leaked toxic gas in Bhopal, killing thousands instantly and harming hundreds of thousands more. The US-based company, Union Carbide Corporation (UCC), responsible for the disaster, was later acquired by the Dow Chemical Company (Dow), which now holds ownership and liability concerns. But what happened that night was never simply an industrial accident—it was a crime of the powerful, made possible by corporate negligence, regulatory collusion, and the quiet violence of capitalism.

The Bhopal gas leak was not an accident, because an accident—by definition—is an unforeseen and unintentional event. This was neither. As stated by Steve Tombs, “it was caused by law-breaking and involved the complicity of a multinational company and Governments.” It was the result of deliberate cost-cutting, ignored warnings, and a systemic failure to protect human lives.

 

“Deteriorating section of the MIC plant in 2008, decades after the Bhopal gas leak.” Photo by Luca Frediani, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bhopal-Union_Carbide_2.jpg

 

Almost 42 years later, a new chapter in this long, ongoing injustice is unfolding. In early January 2025, the state government of Madhya Pradesh began transporting 337 tonnes of toxic waste, in twelve leak-proof containers, from the disused Union Carbide factory in Bhopal to a hazardous waste incineration facility in Pithampur, a heavily industrialised suburb of Indore.

This move takes place against the backdrop of major institutions like Amnesty International (2024) and the United Nations Human Rights Office (2024) recognising Bhopal as a “sacrifice zone” — a place where pollution from the contaminated site of the Union Carbide pesticide plant continues to poison many, especially those living in poverty.

However, this ‘clean-up’ raises troubling questions: is it truly about justice, or is it merely a superficial move—an attempt to pass on environmental harm to new, vulnerable communities? Instead of addressing the root of the problem, the state appears to be shifting the burden onto others, widening the sacrifice zone rather than closing it.

The official narrative framed the move as a milestone in environmental remediation. Swatantra Kumar Singh, Director of the Bhopal Gas Tragedy Relief and Rehabilitation Department, stated, “The disposal of this waste will not harm anyone. In 2015, we conducted a trial run where 10 tonnes of waste were incinerated, and the results were positive. Therefore, it would be wrong to claim that it will cause harm.”

But for many in Pithampur, it reignited old fears rather than assuaging them. The local population, already situated in a zone saturated with industrial pollutants, suddenly found themselves unwilling recipients of waste linked to one of the world’s worst industrial crimes.

Public protests erupted almost immediately. On 4th January, two residents attempted self-immolation, an extreme act born out of desperation and distrust. The state halted the operation, and the High Court granted six weeks to rebuild public trust. But four NGOs working with Bhopal survivors contested the state’s narrative in court, accusing it of omitting key data—including mercury emission estimates from the 2015 trial incineration.

The unfolding events in Pithampur reveal a deeper crisis—one underscored by environmental injustice, state narratives, and community resistance.

 

Map of Madhya Pradesh districts by C1MM, licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Madhya_Pradesh_district_map.svg

 

Mercury Emissions and the Politics of Omission

Experts had estimated that incinerating 10 tonnes of waste in 2015 released between 1.53 and 6.88 kg of mercury. Extrapolated, full-scale incineration of 300 tonnes could emit as much as 200 kg. This crucial figure was absent from the state’s submission.

As Rachna Dhingra, of the Bhopal Group for Information and Action, emphasised “Prof Asif Qureshi from IIT Hyderabad ... found that the incineration of 10 tonnes of hazardous waste caused the emission of 1.53 to 6.88 kg[s] of mercury.” She criticised this omission as a deliberate act of misinformation intended to mislead the High Court.

Echoing these concerns but focusing on scale, Balkrishna Namdeo of the Bhopal Gas Peedit Nirashrit Pensionbhogee Sangharsh Morcha (BGPNPSM) questioned the rationale of the state’s choice of disposal method, stating, “As Prof Qureshi has pointed out, well over 40 to 200 kg of mercury will be released due to the incineration of the 300 tonnes of Union Carbide's hazardous waste. This toxic disaster of unprecedented scale has already begun in Pithampur.”

This selective reporting by state authorities —particularly the omission of mercury emission estimates from their submission to the High Court—reveals a deeper pattern in environmental governance: regulatory capture and state-corporate collusion that facilitates impunity under the guise of remediation.

 

Incineration Trials and Environmental Risks

The Pithampur facility itself has a troubled history. A 2008 report documented unauthorised waste transportation and poor temperature monitoring—failures with direct implications for environmental safety. Local residents have reported unexplained illnesses, foul air, and persistent fears of long-term contamination.

These aren’t just anecdotes. They point to a broader truth: hazardous waste is not merely a technical problem, it is a profoundly political one. And trust—once lost—is difficult to restore.

The failure to secure meaningful consent from Pithampur’s communities reveals the ongoing marginalisation they face. Despite the presence of numerous industrial operations in the area, residents have rarely been afforded genuine participation in decisions affecting their health and environment.

This mirrors the historic pattern in Bhopal itself, where the voices of those most impacted were systematically ignored. Genuine environmental justice demands more than risk assessments and data—it requires listening, transparency, and accountability.

Pithampur’s emergence as an industrial hub is no accident. As part of India’s post-liberalisation development strategy, regions like this were designated growth corridors—welcoming industry with minimal regulatory oversight and little concern for environmental or social externalities. In that sense, Pithampur is not an unfortunate choice for waste disposal—it is a predictable one.

Despite these longstanding concerns, the government proceeded with a three-phase incineration trial of 30 tonnes. In March 2025, it declared the operation successful and began incinerating the remaining 307 tonnes at a feed rate of 270 kg/hour.

Officials assured the public that a four-tier monitoring system was in place, including real-time emissions tracking and ambient air quality stations in the surrounding villages of   Tarpura, Chirakhan, and Bajrangpura.

The system reportedly monitored particulate mercury, heavy metals, hydrogen chloride, sulphur dioxide, and carbon monoxide. Yet experts and community members questioned whether this data was being meaningfully communicated to the public—and whether it truly captured the cumulative impacts of long-term incineration in a densely industrialised region.

Furthermore, the incineration process itself raises significant environmental health concerns. The combustion of toxic wastes can generate a variety of secondary pollutants, including dioxins and furans—chemicals known for their persistence, bioaccumulation, and severe health effects. Whether these emissions are adequately measured or mitigated remains uncertain.

Professor Sudershan Neogi, a chemical engineering expert and visiting faculty at the Indian Institutes of Technology (IIT) Kharagpur and IIT Indore, pointed out a major limitation in tracking emissions. “It is not possible for the agencies to monitor online emission of gasses like Dioxins and Furans. These gases can only be collected at a certain temperature and then analysed.”

Even the disposal process itself raises unanswered questions: What will happen to the ash and other byproducts? Will they be safely contained, or stored in another vulnerable community? Who monitors long-term leaching, years after the incinerators fall silent?

This pattern of shifting toxic legacies from one marginalised community to another exposes the systemic failures of environmental governance in India. It reflects a global tendency to view certain populations as disposable—whether due to poverty, caste, or geography—and to ignore the structural inequalities that produce environmental harm.

Rashida Bee, President of the Bhopal Gas Peedit Mahila Stationery Karmchari Sangh (BGPMSSKS), said, “Official documents show that when 10 tons of hazardous waste from Union Carbide was incinerated in 2015, some 80 thousand litres of diesel was used ... more than 30 times the diesel used for hazardous waste from another source from 2010-2012. Burning excessive amount of diesel will not only cause severe pollution, [but] through massive dilution of emissions it will falsely indicate low or undetectable levels of Dioxins and Furans.”

 

Toxic Legacy Shifted, Not Solved

If the idea is to remediate the Union Carbide site, why focus only on the 337 tonnes of contained waste that has been secure for years, instead of addressing the massive volume of toxic material still contaminating the soil and groundwater? 

This partial clean-up was more about optics than justice.

Nawab Khan, of the Bhopal Gas Peedit Mahila Purush Sangharsh Morcha (BGPMPSM), was similarly critical. “We have written to the Union minister of environment calling for an end to the ongoing disaster in Pithampur ... This can be done by making Union Carbide’s owner Dow Chemical carry the hazardous waste to the US for safe disposal as had been done for the mercury waste from Kodaikanal in Tamilnadu in 2003. We are yet to know whether the minister will indeed take any steps but hope the high court will realise how it has been conned by the state government in allowing the incineration of Union Carbide’s hazardous waste to proceed at Pithampur.”

The residents of Pithampur are now being made to bear the weight of a disaster that was itself forced upon Bhopal, all because the government refuses to confront Dow Chemical and Union Carbide. This isn’t true remediation—it’s the relocation of risk from one exploited community to another.

The Bhopal Gas Peedit Sangharsh Sahyog Samiti (BGPSSS), has publicly accused the MP Pollution Control Board (MPPCB) and other agencies with misleading the MP High Court into believing that everything was fine with the disposal of Carbide waste at the Pithampur factory by conveniently “omitting” the hazardous issue of mercury absorption. 

This selective and secretive approach sidesteps the full scope of contamination and the need for corporate accountability.

Beyond the local legal battles, incineration as a so-called ‘remediation’ method has been deeply challenged by international experts, environmental scientists, and activists with decades of frontline experience in hazardous waste and public health.

In November 2024, a coalition of 15 specialists from multiple countries issued an open letter exposing the stark dangers of incineration, such as the unchecked release of deadly toxins like dioxins, furans, and heavy metals.

They condemned the state’s blatant disregard for best practices and international environmental responsibilities. This global alliance makes it clear—incineration isn’t a fix but a cover-up, a ticking time bomb that will amplify harm for communities already bearing the brunt of industrial violence. Instead of toxic quick fixes, the call is for genuinely safe, just, and accountable solutions that centre the rights and health of affected people.

 

Greenwashing Under the Guise of Progress

It’s critical to note what this disposal effort did not address.

The 337 tonnes of waste moved to Pithampur constituted what officials termed “overground waste”—material already sealed in leak-proof drums and stored in a secure warehouse since 2005. It was no longer leaching into the soil or groundwater.

In the words of Rachna Dhingra, a coordinator of the International Campaign for Justice in Bhopal (ICJB), the operation was a “farce and greenwashing publicity stunt to remove a tiny fraction of the least harmful waste.” Campaigners have pointed out that these 337 tonnes represent less than 1% of the over 1 million tonnes of hazardous material believed to remain at the site.

The original Union Carbide factory is still leaking poisons into the soil and groundwater. Independent studies and court submissions confirm that contamination has spread far beyond the site’s boundaries. According to the Indian Institute of Toxicology Research, groundwater in at least 42 colonies around the plant contains dangerous levels of nitrates, chlorides, heavy metals, and alpha-naphthol—a chemical linked to the production of methyl isocyanate, the gas that killed thousands in 1984.

 

“Exterior view of the Union Carbide pesticide factory in Bhopal, India.” Photo by Martin Stott / Bhopal Medical Appeal, licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0
https://flickr.com/photos/44868727@N02/14119398488

 

Testing has revealed cancer-causing chemicals in drinking water at concentrations up to 50 times higher than US EPA safety standards. Thousands rely on this water daily—for drinking, cooking, and bathing.

Meanwhile, legacy waste pits and so-called solar evaporation ponds remain uncovered. Many were never lined. Others were stripped for materials by slum residents. These sites continue to leach toxins into the environment, decades later.

The consequences are staggering. UN estimates suggest more than 200,000 people across 71 villages are exposed to contaminated water and soil. The area has become a textbook example of what environmental justice scholars term a “sacrifice zone”—a place where human health and environment are systematically sacrificed for industrial profit and state indifference.

The long-term impacts—on physical health, reproductive outcomes, mental well-being, and livelihoods—are not easily measured. Nor are they ever fully acknowledged by the institutions responsible. What we see in Bhopal is what happens when a site of corporate crime is not treated as a crime scene but as a zone of forgettable collateral damage.

 

Conclusion: Not Justice, Just Movement

The incineration at Pithampur may satisfy bureaucratic timelines and judicial demands. It may even produce data sets, reports, and momentary headlines. But it does not—and cannot—constitute justice.

Bhopal was a crime. The subsequent 41 years have been a cover-up. And today, the danger is not that we forget what happened in Bhopal—it’s that we replicate its logic elsewhere.

As Rachna Dhingra, a member of the Bhopal Group for Information and Action, says: “The incineration of hazardous waste from Bhopal is to be carried out for up to three and half months. The population likely to be exposed to airborne poisons and particulate matter from the incinerator for such a long period is well over a hundred thousand. It is nothing short of deliberately creating a public health disaster.”

The people of Pithampur are being subjected to the same toxic injustice that Bhopal has endured for decades. Moving the waste doesn’t solve the problem—it only spreads the crime scene. What looks like “clean-up” is, in reality, a repetition of harm: the export of environmental injustice under the guise of progress.

We must ask: are we cleaning up the legacy of corporate crime, or merely displacing it—out of sight, out of court, out of mind?

True justice would demand that the original site of harm—the vast majority of contamination left untouched—remains central to any remediation effort. Moving only the overground waste does not resolve the ongoing harm; it shifts a fraction of it, while leaving the original crime scene active and extending its footprint to Pithampur. In this way, the crime scene does not close—it expands.

For the residents of Pithampur, the stakes are existential. The question is not simply whether the waste will be destroyed— but whether responsibility will ever be taken, not just for Bhopal’s original crime, but for the fresh injustice now unfolding in Pithampur. That answer may come under fresh scrutiny on 30th June 2025, when the Madhya Pradesh High Court is next scheduled to review the state’s actions.

 

If you wish to read more about this injustice, the following articles published by Sharon Hartles may be of interest:

• Harm and Evidence Research Collaborative blog: Bhopal 2023: Unfinished Business – Justice Denied?
• The British Society of Criminology Blog: Bhopal State-Corporate Crime continues to unfold, (1984 – Present), 35 years and counting

 

Sharon Hartles, Member of the Harm and Evidence Research Collaborative, The Open University. Member of the British Society of Criminology. Affiliated with the Risky Hormones research project (an international collaboration in partnership with patient groups).