October 2013
 
Prelude . . . some time about a year earlier
 
            My phone rings. It's ten minutes before lunch. I pick it up, hoping this will be a quick one.
            "Hi, this is Steve Owen," says the caller.
          Oh no. "Hi, Steve." My inner phoney frantically searches for a put-off line. But Steve continues talking before anything feasible turns up.
            "I found out something rather naughty about interliners the other day," he says.
            "Go on," I say, hoping he won't ask me what an interliner is. I mean, I've heard of them; seen something about them in our guide book. I feel I should know. I am after all Mr Government Man for the furniture flammability regulations.
            Steve talks on, about the Crib 5 test, organo-phosphates, cellulosics, thermo-plastics and the such and I make 'mmmm'ing noises, hoping he will answer whatever problem he's discovered himself and not ask me what I think.
            I've met Steve several times at various workshops. He doesn't play the same social and political games as everyone else. He just says what he thinks, often followed by an awkward silence. I know he works for Intertek, one of the country's largest test laboratories. I frequently speak to people from other test houses but they don't make me feel as uncomfortable as Steve does.
            He's been phoning me up quite a lot lately, always with some issue he's uncovered about the regulations. He must know that I don't really understand what he's talking about. But he still phones me. He doesn't phone my boss, for example.
            I'm not quite sure what makes me say it but when I do, a deep-down fundamental part of me knows this will change the way I see this job forever. It will take me outside of the sacred safety zone of the civil servant which is constructed from the over-riding need to protect one's career first, take an interest in the actual job a very distant second.
           "Steve," I say. "I'm going to come clean: I don't understand what you're talking about. Please, give it to me in idiot language."
            He laughs, says, "No problem." Except there is. I still don't understand him. So I stop him again. And he simplifies it until I get it.
            What I mainly get is that Steve Owen knows exactly what he's talking about.
           
Back to October 2013
 
            Steve and I are sitting in a Volvo driven by our host, Jorgen. He's taking us to IKEA's research establishment in Almhult, Sweden.
            Almhult is where IKEA started and its first-ever store is still standing there, albeit rather run-down. There is also an IKEA hotel in the centre of town, and an IKEA museum. On my first visit there, without Steve, Jorgen took me to the museum. I looked at some Billy bookcases from the 50s. "They look exactly the same as today's Billy bookcases," I said. Jorgen straight-faced said, "No, these are a little bigger."
            On that trip, I'd been discussing with IKEA early ideas Steve and I had for a new match test. They were especially keen on changing it since they told me they had a policy of not using brominated flame retardants. These are almost impossible to avoid if you want to get cover fabrics through the match test. Because of that, in the UK IKEA had only been using cellulosic fabrics that can be fitted untreated, as long as they pass another flammability test in the Regulations which means using an interliner. Because of this, their range of fabrics is restricted in the UK.
            At that stage, they had a policy of not talking about their green credentials too much, for various reasons. Jorgen told me two things on that trip to really help me see that different countries have different views on health and the environment. He said, "In the UK, you put fire safety first and live with the fact it means using flame retardants. Swedish people put the environment first, and their children's future, which means we would rather take a risk on fire safety than introduce FR pollution."
            (Just a few days ago (in 2017) a report discovered that you are 64 times more likely to die from air pollution in the UK than in Sweden.)
            The other thing Jorgen told me was that a best-selling children's book in Sweden that year was entitled, 'The Flame Retardant Cat'. I laughed at this but later realised it emphasised his first point. Cats, like children, are particularly vulnerable to flame retardant poisoning, given they sleep with their faces close to sofa covers and they move around near the floor which is often polluted with flame retardant dust.
            In 2013, Steve has been quiet for a few minutes. Suddenly, he tells Jorgen that he's been listening to the sound of the Volvo's engine and gives a detailed analysis of what needs fixing. He also gives an estimate of the cost of the parts. In SEK. Jorgen laughs and says that his mechanic had picked up about half of Steve's diagnosis after actually examining the engine, and that he'll take it back to get the rest checked out.
            We spend two days meeting all sorts of researchers, many grilling us intensely about the new match test. Steve handles the technical questions and I deal with the policy side of things. At the end of the first day, Jorgen drives us back to our hotel and says at one point, "You two make a good team."
            Thinking about that later, I believe the main reason we work together so well is that we have the same approach, which is to get to the truth of the matter, no matter how uncomfortable that might be.
            Our hotel is about 6 miles from IKEA, on a lake deep in a forest. The first night there, we each buy a £9 bottle of beer and later, despite the price, decide we want another. It's about 10.15. The barmaid agrees to sell us one but tells us that we will have to finish them outside, since the main building is closing. We discover later that everyone in Almhult is in bed by 9.30. There are no bars and everyone is very nice. Meanwhile, Steve and I shiver outside for a half hour or so, nursing our beers and getting to know each other.
           At the end of our visit, we have a round-up meeting with Jorgen and the head of the establishment. The head says they are very impressed with our new test - "Scarily competent" are his exact words. IKEA wants to put money into researching green alternatives they believe will be possible with our test. His only concern is that Steve and I remain working on it. I explain to him that I am not getting much support from my managers at the Department. I've been getting top marks in my annual reports for some time now, and everyone agrees that I am doing work at above my grade level. But instead of promoting me in the post, they say I need to apply for a different post on promotion. This is typical Whitehall thinking, i.e. that you are supposed to specialise in policy, not specific technical expertise. This, of course, is a wonderful excuse for cocking up since you can always claim you don't know anything about technical matters.
            Just before coming to Sweden, I'd had a strange meeting in BIS with someone from Better Regulation. It seems that not only is my proposed change to the Regulations by far the biggest savings the Department is likely to make for business; it's now pretty much the only one. The irony is not lost on me. BIS is full of smart, well-educated people, dedicated to helping UK businesses succeed. Ministers have been telling everyone that the government's de-regulation strategy will help them save squillions by cutting red tape. With a new election looming, those Ministers have started asking their officials exactly what savings are being made.
            Which was the first time I'd even thought about savings from the new match test. My main concern was making it greener. But when we were all asked what we had up our red tapeless sleeves, I made a rough estimate that the new test would save the furniture industry around £50m per year.
            Suddenly, the Department was interested.
           There was only one problem. Well, two problems. First, I worked in a section in BIS that itself was something of a mystery, at least as far as being in the business department was concerned. We dealt with consumer product safety. Which is about protecting the public and not making money for business. Much later, it will occur to me that this may not be so much of a mystery. After all, where would business prefer product safety to live?
            Second, as the man from Better Regulation was telling me, all those hundreds of business-focussed Departmental whizz kids didn't have anything else.
 
#
 
            At the end of our work at IKEA's research centre, the head of the place takes us on a tour of their testing facilities. Every couple of minutes, Steve breaks off to inspect a piece of equipment or some test materials and informs our hosts that it's not been adjusted right, or they're using the wrong kind of polyurethane foam. I'm embarrassed about this but when we finish the tour, the head guy implores Steve to return and do a full audit on the place. "This is exactly what we're looking for," he says.
            If only the new test was exactly what my Department is looking for. In my naivety, I had initially found it quite amusing to be the saviour of the Department while also being an outsider. Later, I realised that the worst thing you can do is mess with the system. And while coming up with a specialised new technical test that would save industry millions and improve the lives of everyone in the country might have sounded like a good idea, if it isn't going to be done within the centuries-old proper procedures and hierarchical form required by the bureaucratic monolith that is the civil service, well then, it might be better if it never happened at all.  

April 2013
 
            "I didn't know you wrote science fiction, Terry," says Arlene Blum.
            We're sitting in the coffee lounge at BFR 2013, San Francisco. I've given talks at the conference proper and at Arlene's associated Green Science Policy Institute workshop, and I'm due to sit on the closing discussion panel a little later today. I'm here because of Arlene. She invited me, in keeping with her policy of getting the regulators together with the scientists whose work can inform new regulation.
            I've attended dozens of talks here from scientists and researchers reporting on their findings of the pervasiveness of brominated flame retardants, in humans, animals and the environment. Earlier today, for example, I listened to a scientist talk about the high levels of BFRs he'd found in raptors in Alaska, demonstrating how far these chemicals circulate. He also found DDT in the same raptors, which of course was banned over 40 years ago. While these papers cover small research areas in themselves, taken together the negative effects of these chemicals is overwhelming.
            And Arlene is right, the scientists tend to be not very interested in how their work might be used to form new regulation. They just do it and publish, and leave it to others to put it into practice. Earlier, she'd introduced me to a prominent British scientist who for years has been measuring the build-up of flame retardants in house dust. When she suggested we might team up, he just looked puzzled and said, "It's all online."
            Just a couple of months ago Oliver Letwin, Cabinet Minister, had asked for briefing on one of Arlene's papers. Later, he followed up with a meeting at No 9 Downing Street with myself, David Mortimer of the Food Standards Agency and two other officials. He made the valid point to me that while the UK's Furniture Regulations are saving around 54 lives per year, there could be thousands of people contracting cancers from the flame retardants in our sofas. I agreed and told him about our plans to change the match test. He also asked if we could find out what's in house dust and one of the officials reported that the Department for Health had just bought a very expensive machine to measure just that. Letwin was pleased but by the time I left the civil service in 2016, there was no news of whatever results the machine had come up with.
            So maybe Arlene is only half-right: the scientists need to talk to the regulators more but some of the regulators need to, well, talk to everyone a bit more.
            Along with the scientists, there are plenty of people here from the chemical industry, including Wilhelm from ICL, who I will meet several more times over the next couple of years. Wilhelm sat in on Arlene's day, too. I still don't understand how anyone can listen to such convincing evidence of the negative effects of the products his company produces without it having any effect on his thinking. Or his career, which is probably more to the point.
            "I started as a children's writer," I say, "but I got fed up with how publishing was becoming more about selling products than great writing. So I switched to science fiction since that was what I grew up reading most."
            "I was once invited to spend some time with Arthur C Clarke on his island," says Arlene, just as if that was as common as popping into McDonald's. "I was on my way back from an expedition . . . "
            Amongst other 'expeditions', Arlene led the first-ever all-female party to climb Annapurna. "I also used to go for tea at Marion Zimmer Bradley's house," she continues. Of course, I think. Zimmer Bradley wrote the hugely successful 'Mists of Avalon', which I really enjoyed, not least because it's a retelling of the Arthur story. "I complemented her on getting the mountaineering details so right in one of her novels, and she said, 'Well, I stole them from your book!'"
            I never met any of my SF writer heroes but I tell Arlene about my story called "Guy" that was published a couple of months ago in Penumbra Magazine. The brief was to write a story in the style of Ray Bradbury, who was my first writing hero. I'd never tried anything like that before but in the event really I enjoyed it, as well as finding it a creative stretch. I was delighted when Jonathan Eller, author of a brilliant biography on Bradbury, written in collaboration with the author, told me that my story was one of the best he'd ever read, inspired by Ray's style and legacy.
            Then Arlene and I discuss the poster that one of her students has displayed at the conference, that is very critical of the UK's Furniture Regulations. While I agree with Arlene's take on the harmful effects of flame retardants, I don't agree with her contention that no furniture fire regulations actually work. David Mortimer, who is also at this conference, and I have tried a couple of times to get her to see reason. Okay, she is working on getting flame retardants out of US furniture but the fact is their flammability requirements are much milder than ours, so it's possible here, but not in the UK.
            Of course, back in 2013 I believed that the Furniture Regulations fully worked and that the report we'd commissioned in 2009, into their effectiveness, was entirely accurate. Now, I know that is not the whole story by any means.
            Arlene is currently working with the Chicago Tribune on the issue of flame retardants in furniture. And later in 2013, an HBO movie, "Toxic Hot Seat", directed by Robert Redford's son, will go on to win lots of film awards. But more importantly it will show how the flame retardant industry manipulated facts, bought fire officials and generally lied about their products in order to maintain huge profits in the US. At BFR, I'm not entirely sure, half believing that things are different in the UK.
            Of course, they're not. Same flame retardant companies. Same manipulations. Same lies.

December 2012:         
 
The hotel lobby is all white marble flooring and semi-uniformed staff. Much posher than the one I'm staying in. I find the bar where I recognise Bob Graham and join him and two others. He stands, shakes my hand warmly and introduces me to Mike Hagen, another Brit, and a young Italian guy whose name I don't catch but tells me he's doing a degree in Brussels funded by Chemtura.
            "What would you like to drink?" Bob asks me. "We've got an hour before the restaurant."
            "Any Belgian beer," I say.
            Mike is younger than Bob, good-looking, rugged, sun-tanned. I learn that he was a firefighter but is now retired from the fire services, like Bob. He runs a fire advisory service called the Fire Safety Platform.
            The beer is very good and I like their company. One of the things I enjoy about my job is meeting people who've spent years on the front line, literally fighting fire in this case.
            We have a couple of beers then move on to the restaurant. It's small and cosy, run by a somewhat eccentric Belgian chef. There is only one menu each night but it's always excellent they tell me.
            There is a certain camaraderie we share that is based in a UK against the rest of the world feeling. Tomorrow we will be doing all we can to convince the non-UK delegates that they should be taking up the same high level of fire safety provided by our Furniture Regulations. We will be taking part in a meeting to discuss a proposal put forward by the UK MEP, Emma McClarkin, which she's hoping will attract enough support from other MEPs to put it to the European Parliament formally.
            Emma wants two things: first, that the rest of Europe sets up fire statistics as good as the UK's; second, that the rest of Europe also adopts furniture flammability measures as tough as the UK's.
            Bob tells me they're paying for dinner tonight and I vaguely suspect this means the flame retardant industry is stumping up. After all, Bob is employed by EFRA, the European trade association for the flame retardant industry. At this stage, this doesn't strike me as particularly contradictory. EFRA has long campaigned for better fire safety, just like the UK. I've been to meetings in Brussels where the European Commission has argued for UK-like flammability rules with briefing supplied by EFRA.
            After more drinks, I surprise them with the news that I'm a science fiction writer. Bob then talks movingly about the Manchester Woolworth's fire in 1979 that killed 10 people. He was a fire chief in attendance and still has nightmares about the charred bodies of those who could not escape from the restaurant because a freak fire in the furniture department on the floor below had thrown up a wall of toxic gas. That and the desperate arms trying to force their way through the bars on the windows of the restaurant. This incident put Bob on the road of campaigning to bring in tougher legislation for furniture.
            Years later, I'll look at the Woolworth's fire with different eyes and begin to suspect that it was quite possibly not an accident at all.
            For now I say, "I know we've got the best fire regs in the world but I'm wondering if they isn't a way we can also reduce flame retardant use. It's what's blocking the rest of Europe coming up to our level, after all."
            They seem to agree, tell me that sounds like a good policy, providing we don't reduce fire safety.
            "Why do you two think the Germans and the Swedes are so reluctant to improve furniture flammability?" I say.
            They laugh. Bob says, "Flame retardants prevent fires taking off."
            Mike's smiling. "And the Germans don't want to prevent fires," he says. "They want to put them out."
            "I don't get it," I say.
            They share a knowing look. "The German fire services get very good government funding," says Bob. "They've all got these big new shiny Mercedes fire engines."
            He raises his eyebrows, encouraging me to get it.
            "Sorry," I say.
            "They want to keep their snazzy equipment," says Mike. "So they need to be putting fires out, not supporting measures that prevent them happening in the first place. 'Don't worry' they say to the people; 'we'll get there in minutes and save you'."
            We all laugh. This makes perfect sense in a UK view of the Germans kind of way.         Many years later, when I reflect on this, I'll see it's utter nonsense.
            I'll also remember once again who was paying for dinner that night. And note how naive I was not to see that my position in tomorrow's meeting was absolutely pivotal.
 
#
 
            Before the meeting I have a talk with Emma McClarkin. And the young guy from Chemtura. Seems like EFRA is funding the event and that gives them access to the politicians.
            She is a young, attractive woman; intelligent and apparently genuinely concerned about the fact it's only the UK that appears to take domestic fire safety seriously. She tells me about a terrible house fire in her constituency back home that has informed her decision to make this proposal. I glance at the Chemtura guy but his expression is opaque.
            I reassure her that we are working to bring the UK Furniture Regs up to date while maintaining fire safety, and mention that we're looking to reduce flame retardant use in the process but she doesn't really respond to this.
            The meeting proper takes place around a very long table. There are about forty people present. We all introduce ourselves. Bob and Mike are there of course; also representatives from a European burns victims association; a couple of other European fire fighters; someone from IKEA that I've seen at other Brussels meetings; a man from the Commission's consumer safety unit; and a woman from something called the Green Science Policy Institute in California.
            Emma kicks off, explaining what her proposal is all about; then others say their piece. Bob talks about the important role of flame retardants in fire safety and is challenged by the woman from California. This is a little embarrassing and I feel sorry for Bob.
            Then it's my turn. I stand up and say a little about the successful history of the UK's regulations; how we're updating them and so on. Then I say that while we're thinking about reducing flame retardants, there's no evidence that they're harmful. This produces protests from the IKEA and California women. But I'm not sure why.
            The moment the meeting finishes, the two women head straight for me and instinctively I hold up my sandwich plate by way of defence.
            "There's tons of evidence against flame retardants," the California woman says; and Ms IKEA agrees.
            On reflection, I guess a normal civil servant at this point would have said something about how we'll look into it, suggest they write to the Department, and generally avoid the issue.
            "How do I find it?" I say.
            California woman promises to send it to me. She also says that her boss, Arlene Blum, will invite me to a conference next year, in San Francisco.
            After the meeting, I have a discussion with the man from the Commission. His department has always supported the UK regulations and made huge efforts to bring the rest of Europe in line. But now he tells me quite bluntly that, in light of the evidence, the Commission is no longer going to promote the UK regulations to the rest of Europe. Unless it can be done without flame retardants.
            These two discussions are a turning point for me.
            Later, I will see why Bob and Mike (and the guy from Chemtura) took me out for dinner that night. Even later, I will see that the flame retardant industry's plans to block the new match test begun almost as soon as the Brussels meeting finished.
 
 

 May 2012:
            The phone on my desk rings.
            "Terry, it's K. We hear you're thinking of changing the match test."
            This bemuses me at the time. Later, it will chill me.
            "Er, yes, we might be."
            K works for Chemtura, one of the biggest producers of flame retardant chemicals in the world. I've met him several times. He's been to meetings at the Department and I've attended a few that he's organised with the other two big flame retardant producers, and their PR company. 
            He really does call himself K, by the way.
            My mind is racing. I don't really want to tell him too much since Steve Owen and I are still looking at options. More to the point, Steve and I have had a few telephone conversations about developing a new match test but neither of us has told anyone else about it. So how does K know? And why is he letting me know that he knows?
            Later, I will have a better idea of what's really behind this phone call. For example, if the new test that Steve and I are planning to put together goes ahead, the flame retardant industry will immediately lose up to £80m per year, pretty soon after that rising to £160m per year.
            Also, what K knows that I don't is that the USA is moving towards eliminating flame retardants from its sofas - and the population of the US is 5 times that of the UK.
            Also, if the UK moves towards eliminating flame retardants, the EU market will be lost too. Chemtura, ICL and Albemarle have been successfully pushing the European Commission to pave the way for the whole of Europe to take up flame retardants in their furniture but if the UK takes the path Steve and I are planning, another multi-million pound market will be lost too.
            Also, losing the US, the UK and Europe will stifle their attempts to sell flame retardants into the massive developing new markets like India and China.
            Later, when I fully realise just how much is potentially at stake I will not be at all surprised that K had access to the conversations between Steve and I.
            But for now, I'm just thinking that I'll be as honest with K as I can, since this is my main approach to any of the Department's stakeholders.
            "Well," I say, "we know there's no evidence that flame retardants are a problem but some people think they are, and we thought it would be good to take a precautionary approach."
            About now I realise he'd said 'We', not 'I'.
            His voice is oddly soft, rather like a Bond villain who's setting me up for a trip to the torture chamber. "But flame retardants have an excellent track record, Terry, and we wouldn't want to compromise safety. The UK Furniture Regulations are the best in the world."
            This annoys me a little since he's blurred a dividing line here.
            "But the Regulations don't stipulate the use of flame retardants," I say because he's trying to imply that furniture would be unsafe without them.
            "Of course," he says, "but some fabrics will never pass the match test without flame retardants."
            At this time, I don't know whether or not this is true. So I steer the conversation towards an amicable exit.
            Then I phone Steve and tell him about the conversation with K. He too is bemused about how 'we' knew what he and I have been discussing. He also puts me straight about K's last comment.
            "Yes, some fabrics might need more flame retardants with our new test. Man-made and synthetic fibre mixes particularly. But overall, there'll still be a massive reduction in FRs and in any case fabric manufacturers will adjust their weaves with the mixed fibres so they don't need so much FRs."
            As usual, I don't understand all of what Steve's saying but I get some of it. Which is a big improvement on our earlier conversations.
            And so we continue discussing what a new match test might look like, both oblivious to what the flame retardant industry is planning by way of making sure it never goes ahead.