In the summer of 1988, the taps of north Cornwall ran blue, black and sticky, and the people who drank from them fell ill while officials insisted all was well. Decades later, a BBC film has returned to that poisoning, which many regard as Britain's largest mass contamination, and it asks an old question that has never been answered: who knew, and who chose silence to protect a privatisation? For the residents of Camelford and nearby villages, the truth has been slow in arriving, and their wish for a public inquiry remains unmet.
Poison Water Review: A Damning Account of Greed, Incompetence and Britain's Biggest Mass Poisoning
Residents suffered vomiting, rashes and headaches, many with long-term health problems, and families believe several premature deaths were caused by the contaminated water.
In the summer of 1988, the taps of north Cornwall ran blue, black and sticky, and the people who drank from them fell ill while officials insisted all was well. Decades later, a BBC film has returned to that poisoning, which many regard as Britain's largest mass contamination, and it asks an old question that has never been answered: who knew, and who chose silence to protect a privatisation? For the residents of Camelford and nearby villages, the truth has been slow in arriving, and their wish for a public inquiry remains unmet.
In the summer of 1988, people across several towns and villages in north Cornwall turned on their taps and found the water wrong. It was blue in some homes and black in others, sometimes thick and sticky. Soon came vomiting, diarrhoea, rashes, blisters and crippling headaches. A fault at a water treatment works had poured toxic amounts of aluminium sulphate into the supply.
For more than two weeks, authority held back from admitting the danger. Residents were assured the water was safe and told to mix it with orange squash to make it taste better. Some recovered quickly. Many others were left with lasting health problems, and some families are certain that people died early because of the water they drank and bathed in that summer.
Poison Water, a one-off BBC film, returns to this episode, which the Guardian's reviewer describes as Britain's biggest mass poisoning. Its ambition is to do for these communities what Mr Bates vs the Post Office did for wrongly convicted subpostmasters. Carole Wyatt of St Minver, who had hoped never to speak of it again, becomes one of its most forceful voices. She wants the words miscarriage of justice kept in, and she wants the truth out before she dies. Beyond a government apology, calls for a public inquiry have gone unanswered for years.
The film relies heavily on archive footage, but new interviews bring it into the present. Michael Howard, then minister for water under Margaret Thatcher, is confronted with a letter in which a water inspectorate employee urged leniency, warning that prosecutions could make the industry unattractive to the City as privatisation approached. Howard says he cannot recall seeing it, strongly denies any cover-up, and calls the poisoning a terrible mistake.
For Doug Cross, a scientist in Camelford, the story is personal. His wife Carole died in 2004, aged 59, after sudden Alzheimer's symptoms, and postmortem tests found severely raised aluminium in her brain. He accepts there is no definitive proof the water caused her illness, yet no one has seriously tried to find out whether it did. Leslie Nicks, then head of operations at South West Water, has also come forward, saying he wants the truth known. The public inquiry that residents have sought for decades remains the thing to watch.
In the summer of 1988, people in several towns and villages in north Cornwall turned on their taps and found something wrong. The water was blue in some homes and black in others, and it could be gelatinous or sticky. Illness spread quickly alongside it: vomiting, diarrhoea, rashes, blisters and severe headaches. The cause was an error at a water treatment facility, which had laced the supply with toxic amounts of aluminium sulphate.
It took more than two weeks for those in authority to admit there was a problem. In the meantime, residents were told the water was perfectly safe, and were advised to mix it with orange squash to improve the taste. For some, the symptoms passed. Many others developed long-term health problems, and some families are convinced that premature deaths were caused by the water they drank and bathed in that summer.
This is the story told in Poison Water, a one-off BBC film reviewed in the Guardian, which describes the episode as Britain's biggest mass poisoning. The reviewer notes that the film seems to hope to do for communities hurt by the water industry's inaction what Mr Bates vs the Post Office did for wrongly prosecuted subpostmasters, while acknowledging that the comparison is becoming a cliche. There are also parallels with the recent drama Toxic Town and the continuing fight in Corby, Northamptonshire, over poisonous waste.
Carole Wyatt, who lives in the village of St Minver, says she did not want to speak about the poisoning again, but she becomes one of the film's most outspoken voices. She asks the film-makers not to cut her down as an episode of the BBC's Horizon did at the time, and to keep the good bits. What she wants kept is blunt: the words miscarriage of justice, and her wish that the truth comes out before she dies. Justice has indeed been scant. Beyond a government apology, calls for a public inquiry have gone unanswered through the intervening years.
The film leans heavily on that Horizon episode and other archive material, which the reviewer says risks making it feel like a repackaging. But new interviews with residents, experts and politicians bring events into the present. One is Michael Howard, then minister for water and planning under Margaret Thatcher. He is shown a letter obtained under the Freedom of Information Act, in which an employee of the water inspectorate urged the government to go easy, warning that prosecutions could make the whole water industry unattractive to the City. The government was then preparing to privatise the industry. Howard says he is not sure he ever saw the letter and asks that it be stressed that it was long ago and he cannot remember. He strongly denies any cover-up or collusion, calling the poisoning a terrible mistake that should never have happened.
Others remember vividly. Doug Cross, a scientist living in Camelford, was well placed to understand what was unfolding and tried from the start to hold the authorities to account. His wife, Carole, died in 2004 at 59 after a sudden onset of Alzheimer's symptoms. Postmortem tests found severely elevated aluminium levels in her brain. Cross, as a scientist, accepts there is no definitive proof the incident caused her dementia. But, as the review points out, no effort has been made to find out whether it might have, or how the contamination truly affected the 20,000 people whose water supply was poisoned.
Leslie Nicks, then head of operations at the South West Water authority, also appears. He says he could not stand the thought of the programme airing without someone who knew what was happening speaking out, and that he now just wants the truth known. The reviewer's closing hope is that those in power are finally listening. The public inquiry that residents have sought for decades remains the thing to watch.
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Politics & Governance