Decades after asbestos exposure, WV workers still paying price for fragmented lung cancer records

Much like other states, the story of West Virginia is deeply intertwined with the industries that have driven the nation’s growth. 

For generations, its residents mined coal, manufactured chemicals, generated electricity, built infrastructure and even answered the call to defend the country.  Yet what most of the public did not know is that the legacy of these works extends beyond paychecks, products and economic advancement. In many cases, it also comes with occupational hazards whose consequences may take years — or even decades — to manifest. 

And nowhere is that reality more evident than in the crisis involving asbestos, a natural mineral previously referred to as a “miracle material” but later revealed to be carcinogenic, capable of causing chronic conditions such as lung cancer. Although this danger is now well-established, the repercussions of past exposure continue to surface, considering their lengthy latency period. Worse, as these diagnoses emerge, they even expose a troubling gap in occupational health policy: the essential records that could elucidate the magnitude of this issue often fade long before the disease emerges.

West Virginia’s industrial and military history leaving a lasting asbestos burden

Practically, the asbestos burden in West Virginia is rooted in the very industries that helped shape its economic and civic identity. As early as the 1800s, this natural mineral was already widely adopted in power generation, chemical production, construction, transportation and various sectors because of its extraordinary durability and resistance to heat. 

Even the military took note of its advantages — employing it in facilities like the Air National Guard base in Charleston to enhance operational capabilities. Unfortunately, this heavy reliance has led countless service members and industrial workers to encounter asbestos at a time when its hazards were largely unknown. For nearly 110,000 veterans in West Virginia, the risk is more acute,  especially as a substantial portion of them later transitioned into civilian jobs where the mineral was indispensable for too long.

More disconcertingly, the consequences of that grim history became measurable. Between 1999 and 2017, West Virginia alone witnessed how more than 3,000 of its locals faced their tragic demise due to asbestos-related illnesses. Of these, lung cancer — a debilitating disease that can take up to 40 years to manifest — was among the deadliest, as it took as many as 2,076 lives during the same period. 

More broadly, these outcomes reflect a national pattern that developed under similar occupational conditions. Data, in fact, indicate that from 1940 to 1979, an estimated 27 million American workers were exposed to asbestos, potentially contributing to 20.2% spike in mortality rate between 1990 and 2019. Even this year, experts anticipate tallying approximately 230,000 new lung cancer cases, with numerous diagnoses arising from an extended exposure to asbestos.

Why comprehensive records matter for asbestos-exposed veterans and workers

In reality, the pressing issue for workers and veterans lies not just in the pervasiveness of the asbestos contamination — it also emphasizes the absence of recordkeeping systems that can efficiently track its gravity. Although employers, regulators, government agencies and other stakeholders have consistently collated records, such documentation primarily intends to meet immediate employment as well as regulatory compliance rather than to preserve essential historical data for related diseases that may manifest decades later. As a result, when asbestos-linked lung cancer is eventually diagnosed, the critical papers necessary to trace exposure sources are usually fragmented, incomplete or entirely lost. And this gap is especially critical for veterans, whose exposure often begins during military service and extends into civilian jobs where the mineral remained widely used for years.

Yet notwithstanding the reality of cumulative risks, no comprehensive framework exists to preserve and connect those histories over time. Even as some policies — like the Honoring Our PACT Act — represent an important acknowledgment of toxic exposure among service members, they nevertheless fail to address the broader challenge of documenting civilian exposures that typically follow. What is needed now is a durable system that treats occupational exposure histories as long-term public health records rather than temporary employment documents. By integrating military and civilian exposure records into a centralized framework, the country can ultimately make sure that the passage of time does not eliminate the evidence crucial to understanding the true legacy of asbestos exposure.