Half a million exposed. 22,000 dead, according to
Amnesty International. An environmental and humanitarian catastrophe almost beyond reckoning. And yet the killing goes on. Today, more than two decades after the world's worst-ever industrial disaster, 30 people still die every month from the injuries they suffered on THAT NIGHT.
The Bhopal Disaster remains one of the most visceral examples of the cruelty of corporations towards humanity. Join me below the flip for more about Bhopal - and how compassionate people the world over are insisting that the justice so long delayed no longer be denied.
Update: Your response has been overwhelming. Thank you all. I should add that in addition to sending a FREE FAX, you can also contact your members of Congress! Rep. Frank Pallone (D-NJ) is circulating a congressional sign-on letter in support of the March to Delhi and the deadline for new signatures is this Monday. Thanks so much for your support!
This diary is the first in a series on Bhopal, which will eventually cover the disaster in more detail, including how it was designed from the start, and the implications that Bhopal - and the decades-long campaign for justice - hold for all of us. I'll be writing these semi-regularly over the next two weeks, but given the magnitude of the disaster this diary will focus on THAT NIGHT itself - a night of unimaginable terror.
By the way, if you're wondering "Why Bhopal, why now?" there's a simple reason. Several dozen Bhopal survivors - sick and destitute though they are - are in the midst of a 5-week, 500-mile march to New Delhi. When they reach they intend to present their demands for justice and a life of dignity to the Prime Minister of India - simple requests such as unpoisoned water that many of us take for granted. You can support them right now by sending a FREE FAX to the Prime Minister of India. You can also see photos and read the daily blog from the march here.
On December 3rd, 1984, thousands of people in Bhopal, India, were killed after a catastrophic chemical leak at a Union Carbide pesticide plant. More than 27 tons of methyl isocyanate and other deadly gases turned the entire city into a gas chamber. None of the six safety systems at the plant were functional, and Union Carbide's own documents prove the company designed the plant with "unproven" and "untested" technology, and cut corners on safety and maintenance in order to save money. The disaster was both foreseeable and foreseen, and in the end Carbide's cost-cutting killed thousands.
On THAT NIGHT, death came out of a clear sky. Midnight, a cold wind blowing, the stars brilliant as they are in central India, even through the thin pall of cooking-fire smoke that hung above the city. Here and there, braziers were burning to warm those who were obliged to be out late. From the factory which so many had learned to fear, a thin plume of white vapor began streaming from a high structure. Caught by the wind, it became a haze and blew downward to mix with smokes coming from somewhere nearer to the ground. A dense fog formed. Nudged by the wind, it rolled across the road and into the alleys on the other side. Here the houses were packed close, ill-built, with badly-fitting doors and windows. Those within were roused in darkness to the sound of screams with the gases already in their eyes, noses and throats. It burned terribly, it felt like fire.
Remembers Aziza Sultan, a survivor: "At about 12.30 am I woke to the sound of my baby coughing badly. In the half light I saw that the room was filled with a white cloud. I heard a lot of people shouting. They were shouting 'run, run'. Then I started coughing with each breath seeming as if I was breathing in fire. My eyes were burning."
Another survivor, Champa Devi Shukla, remembers that "It felt like somebody had filled our bodies up with red chillies, our eyes tears coming out, noses were watering, we had froth in our mouths. The coughing was so bad that people were writhing in pain. Some people just got up and ran in whatever they were wearing or even if they were wearing nothing at all. Somebody was running this way and somebody was running that way, some people were just running in their underclothes. People were only concerned as to how they would save their lives so they just ran.
"Those who fell were not picked up by anybody, they just kept falling, and were trampled on by other people. People climbed and scrambled over each other to save their lives - even cows were running and trying to save their lives and crushing people as they ran."
In those apocalyptic moments no one knew what was happening. People simply started dying in the most hideous ways. Some vomited uncontrollably, went into convulsions and fell dead. Others choked to death, drowning in their own body fluids. Many were crushed in the stampedes through narrow gullies where street lamps burned a dim brown through clouds of gas.
"The force of the human torrent wrenched children's hands from their parents' grasp. Families were whirled apart," reported the Bhopal Medical Appeal in 1994. "The poison cloud was so dense and searing that people were reduced to near blindness. As they gasped for breath its effects grew ever more suffocating. The gases burned the tissues of their eyes and lungs and attacked their nervous systems. People lost control of their bodies. Urine and feces ran down their legs. Women lost their unborn children as they ran, their wombs spontaneously opening in bloody abortion."
When dawn broke over the city, thousands of bodies lay in heaps in the streets. Even far from the factory, near the lake, at Rani Hira Pati ka Mahal the ground was so thick with dead that you could not avoid treading on them. The army dumped hundreds of bodies in the surrounding forests and the Betwa river was so choked with corpses that they formed log-jams against the arches of bridges. Families and entire communities were wiped out, leaving no one to identify them. According to Rashida Bi, who survived the gas but lost five family members to cancers, those who escaped with their lives "are the unlucky ones; the lucky ones are those who died on THAT NIGHT."
How many thousands died, no one knows for sure. Carbide says 3,800. Municipal workers who picked up bodies with their own hands, loading them onto trucks for burial in mass graves or to be burned on mass pyres, reckon they shifted at least 15,000 bodies. Survivors, basing their estimates on the number of shrouds sold in the city, conservatively claim about 8,000 died in the first week. The official death toll to date (local government figures) stands at more than 20,000 and Amnesty International has placed the toll at 22,000 lives. Today, more than twenty years later, at least one person per day dies in Bhopal from the injuries they sustained on THAT NIGHT.
To learn more or do more, visit Students for Bhopal and Bhopal.net.