The toxic tide of ship breaking

Alang, a small town in the western Indian state of Gujarat, is where ships go to die. You’ll find them along the shoreline, locked deep into the mud, their frames slowly rusting as they are stripped of all value. Container ships, freighters, cruise liners and even aircraft carriers all find their home here, many flying fake flags to bypass regulations. The largest of these behemoths often strike the bottom almost 1000m from shore and need to be winched from the brown swirl of the Gulf of Khambhat during high tide, slowly edging toward the beach over days or weeks. Once free of the ocean, these giants join the other carcasses to be scoured clean by Alang’s 15,000 workers, few wearing protective equipment. These represent a fraction of the 500,000 people in India alone whose livelihoods depend on the work.

The hulks are spread out for miles amid cranes and debris, the shipyard fires blazing and cutting tools grinding around the clock. The work is systematic; nothing is spared and everything sold, either by the yards or the mile-long row of scrap merchants outside the gates. Items ranging from cutlery and lightbulbs to watertight doors, washing machines and even lifeboats are for sale at a fraction of their original price.