In 2009, Sébastien Sauvé felt he was on to something big.
Newswise — A professor of environmental chemistry at Université de Montréal, he started focusing on compounds that were virtually unknown to the general public: per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, better known as PFAS.
“I started my research career by analyzing heavy metals in contaminated soil and later examined pharmaceutical residues in waterways,” he recalled.
“But I had a hunch that the chemicals used in firefighting foams, waterproof clothing and food packaging must not only stay in the environment, but were also potentially hazardous to animal—and possibly human—health.”
At the time, Sauvé was virtually alone in Quebec in researching PFAS. Then, in 2013, a disaster changed everything. In the Eastern Townships town of Lac-Mégantic, a freight train carrying crude oil derailed and exploded, and to put out the massive blaze, firefighters used all the extinguishing foams they could find within a 200-kilometre radius—foams that contained PFAS.
The area, 250 kilometres east of Montreal, became one of the most PFAS-contaminated sites in Canada.
Sauvé was brought in by Quebec’s environment ministry to analyze the PFAS compounds found in the latest firefighting foams. “Lac Mégantic’s downtown was later excavated, but the disaster was a human tragedy and it wasn’t the time for risk analysis or delays,” he recalled. “Still, that experience marked the beginning of my commitment.”
From labwork to headlines
Advances in toxicology in recent years have shown that PFAS are present in people’s bloodstreams at troubling levels. Sauvé realized his role as a scientist couldn’t be limited to publishing scientific papers; he had to become an advocate, too, making the public and policymakers aware that these “forever chemicals” exist.
In 2022, he and his research team launched a major study: testing drinking water for PFAS at nearly 400 locations across Quebec. They quietly set about collecting water samples from public sources, including restaurants and other easily accessible sites.
The clandestine approach paid off. “If we’d asked permission from the municipalities (to take samples), we’d still be buried in paperwork—and we wouldn’t have been able to publish our findings,” Sauvé noted.
Of the 500 samples he and his team collected, only two showed no trace of PFAS.
While Sauvé was writing up his results, he shared his data with Quebec’s environment ministry. At the same time, Health Canada, the federal department of public health, started proposing new national guidelines to limit PFAS in drinking water.
“In some Quebec municipalities, our data showed PFAS levels were two or even three times higher than the proposed limit,” Sauvé recalled. “That upset local officials and caused panic among farmers who were using sewage sludge as fertilizer, since sludge is also contaminated with PFAS.”
After his independent study was published, the news really took off.
Further media coverage in the fall of 2023 highlighted the spreading of PFAS-contaminated sludge on farmland, the source of so many Quebecers’ food. “PFAS don’t just come from sludge, but sludge is a major source, and this forced sludge producers to be more transparent,” Sauvé noted.
‘No enforceable standard’
Despite mounting scientific evidence of the harmful health effects of PFAS, the official response from various levels of government has been rather muted, something the muckraking professor deplores.
“In Quebec, there’s still no enforceable standard for PFAS in drinking water,” he noted. “And since Health Canada’s guidelines aren’t binding, municipalities aren’t obligated to test their water.”
Reaction in the affected areas has been decidely mixed. “Some elected officials thanked me for informing them before it hit the news, but others were furious, telling me it was none of my business,” Sauvé said.
Since then, the professor has multiplied his media appearances, addressed parliamentary committees in both Ottawa and also in France (in Lyon, he’s worked with local residents to analyze water and soil samples), and kept in touch with city officials.
“We need to keep pushing so that people stay informed,” Sauvé said. “Public pressure is the only way governments will act.”
Despite the resistance of some, his efforts have led to some change, albeit slow. In 2024, the Quebec government launched public consultations to regulate PFAS in sewage sludge—consultations set to conclude this spring.
“It’s surprising, since Quebec will be the first place in the world to regulate PFAS in sludge – before even monitoring them in drinking water,” Sauve said.
An ongoing challenge
For him and his team, getting the word out about PFAS continues to be challenging.
“Without triggering ‘eco-anxiety’ in people, we need to tell it like it is, and comparing PFAS risks to smoking or junk food, for example, helps put things in perspective – but the PFAS we know and regulate are just the tip of the iceberg,” Sauvé said.
“Their so-called transformation products—molecules that change chemical form—are a major issue. Identifying these byproducts and their toxic effects is complex, whether it’s PFAS, pesticides or other pollutants.”
While he pursues his research (he’s now looking into PFAS in grocery items, including disposable plates that are sometimes coated with the chemicals), Sauvé continues to manage a daily stream of media requests for his expertise.
“It’s exhausting, but necessary,” he said. “If no-one speaks out, nothing changes.”
He encourages researchers across all disciplines to go beyond simply publishing their findings.
“Don’t be afraid to step out of your comfort zone,” he advises them. “Science alone isn’t enough—we need to talk to the media, the public and decision-makers. That’s how change happens.”
