Looking for love and sex on Tinder, soldiers endanger national security

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What’s the news?

FTM identified hundreds of soldiers from nations including Germany, the UK and the US on the dating app Tinder. The personal details including home addresses of many soldiers can be found and their travel movements can be tracked via the application.

The investigation found and virtually followed army personnel across major military facilities from the US Ramstein Air Base in Germany to a NATO complex in Lithuania.


Why is this important?

Intelligence services worldwide have been warning for years about “honey traps” via dating apps such as Tinder, in which spies establish contact with people who have access to sensitive data and deceive them in order to extract the information.

The use of these apps has not been comprehensively regulated by defence ministries of major nations, and guidelines on online privacy for soldiers are thin.

FTM found that military personnel share a lot of information about their work on their dating profiles. And Tinder’s security and location settings make it pretty easy to follow their movements, in what experts said could be a “threat to national security”.

But the problem doesn’t stop there. The same risks apply to all Tinder users, from members of the public to police officers and diplomats.

How did FTM investigate this?

FTM created three fake Tinder accounts and used a programme to change the locations of these profiles and virtually place them near military bases. By doing so, FTM gathered more than 100,000 Tinder profiles, and identified at least 400 soldiers in a short timespan.

These profiles could be monitored and their movements tracked, even if there was no match when FTM’s profiles were “turned down” by the soldiers being monitored.

Using trilateration, a technique in which FTM digitally moved its accounts to different points and measured the distance to a given soldier, it was possible to hone in on precise locations. In combination with information from public sources, FTM was often able to easily identify the soldiers on Tinder, verify or retrieve their home addresses and ascertain additional information about their work, hobbies, (sexual) preferences and interests.

This article is part of an ongoing series.

Some people look for love – or perhaps just sex – in unusual places.

Be it a US Air Force base in Germany, a NATO military complex in Lithuania or in the vicinity of a former UN peacekeeping facility in Mali.

The problem is that these singletons are soldiers scrolling through Tinder while on duty, either unaware or unconcerned about the fact that the dating app is indirectly giving away their personal data, current location and even their movements between military bases, an investigation by Follow the Money has revealed.

“This is a threat to national security,” said Dutch cybersecurity consultant Matthijs Koot.

By creating three fake accounts on Tinder – under the names Jacky, Naomi and Daisy – FTM identified the dating profiles of hundreds of military personnel at bases across Europe who came from countries including France, Germany, the Netherlands, the UK and the US.

Using the bios and photos on the soldiers’ Tinder profiles in combination with information from public sources such as LinkedIn and Instagram, FTM managed to find out details such as their job titles, home addresses, and reams of other material about their personal lives.

Thanks to Tinder’s lax security settings, the locations of the fictional Jacky, Naomi and Daisy could be constantly changed and digitally moved around various military bases. Because the app shows the distance between its users, FTM was not only able to establish the whereabouts of a given soldier, but also monitor their travel over many days or even weeks.

This did not require any swiping right (a match), simply liking the profiles was sufficient.

Take Michael, for example. FTM’s fake account Naomi came across his Tinder profile in mid-November while her location was set near the US Ramstein Air Base in southwestern Germany.

Michael’s bio showed that he was in his mid-thirties and worked in “ballistic missile defense”. Naomi liked him and although there was no match, FTM could still track Michael’s movements through the app’s location data.

Within the space of 10 days or so, the US soldier travelled from Ramstein to Frankfurt to London to northern Spain – near Santander – before returning to the base in Germany. FTM also discovered Michael’s date of birth, his past working as a pub crawl promoter in South Korea’s capital of Seoul, and information about his father, who also served in the US military.

From Germany and Estonia to Mali

Jacky, Naomi and Daisy found many other soldiers on Tinder across Germany – from the US Army’s European headquarters in Wiesbaden to the Grafenwöhr Training Area and the Büchel Air Base.

Looking closer to Russia, FTM’s three profiles also identified military personnel at the Rukla Military Base in Lithuania, where NATO’s Enhanced Forward Presence Battlegroup is based, and around the Ämari Air Base in Estonia. FTM tracked two members of the Dutch Royal Airforce travelling to this base in northern Estonia, where the Netherlands is part of an active mission to protect the eastern flank of NATO’s airspace from Russian threats.

In one extreme case, a US soldier identified only as “M” was tracked travelling from the Ramstein Air Base to the West African nation of Mali, where he stayed for a few days near a former UN peacekeeping base, before returning to Germany.

Intelligence agencies worldwide have warned for years about how malicious powers misuse social media and applications that process users’ location data, including dating apps.

The age-old tactic of the honey trap – whereby unsuspecting targets in positions of power or with access to sensitive data are approached by attractive individuals and deceived through flattery or other means – has evolved from smoky bars and glitzy nightclubs to the likes of Facebook and Tinder.

However, Tinder’s security flaws, along with limited online privacy guidelines from the defence ministries of major nations such as the Netherlands, Germany, and the US, suggest that the risk to army personnel is going largely unchecked, cybersecurity experts told FTM.

And it’s not just individuals who are in danger, but entire states, said the Dutch expert Koot.

“If you can follow the movements of soldiers in such a simple, structured and long-term way, that is a major problem” he said.

“For example, if there is suddenly a lot more app activity on a military base, that could mean that they are scaling up or that an exercise is imminent. In parts of the world, such strategic information can be crucial,” Koot added.

FTM shared its findings with Tinder and asked for a response, but received no reply.

Research from Belgian university KU Leuven (see the next section) shows how Tinder masks the exact whereabouts of its users so that only an approximate location can be found through the data it sends to its servers. But in sparsely populated or remote areas – such as military bases – this still allows users’ locations to be identified, as FTM did in this investigation.

Security flaws

Dating apps are increasingly being used by spies seeking to ensnare valuable targets and extract sensitive information, according to top intelligence and security services.

In January 2020, a representative of the US Department of Justice said in an interview that such apps could be weaponised by individuals and foreign intelligence agencies.

Two years later, in February 2022, the head of Australia’s Security Intelligence Organisation (ASIO) said the agency was tracking suspicious approaches from foreign spies on dating apps including Tinder.

And in April 2023, Germany’s military intelligence agency reported that Russian spies were using Tinder to try to obtain confidential information about the war in Ukraine from German politicians and army personnel.

In Tinder’s case, the location data it shares is likely why it is seen as a useful tool for spies.

Every time someone uses the app, their location is updated. While Tinder does not reveal the exact whereabouts of its users, an individual browsing the app can see the approximate distance between themselves and their potential suitors, even if there is not a match.

For this investigation, FTM created a programme to provide Tinder with false locations for Jacky, Naomi and Daisy. These accounts were then digitally placed at various army bases so that the profiles of users in the area could be identified and collected.

Jacky, Naomi and Daisy were repeatedly moved – virtually-speaking – to different points in a given area in order to measure the distance between them and individual soldiers, allowing FTM to hone in on their near-exact whereabouts (a process known as trilateration).

The soldiers in question would not have had any inkling that their location and movements were being tracked in this way, or been able to prevent it if they did while active on Tinder.

“It is worrying that profiles can be obtained on such a large scale from such a globally operating platform,” Belgian cyber researcher Karel Dhondt told FTM after studying its findings.

“If that information falls into the wrong hands, the consequences for the people and groups of people concerned can be far-reaching,” he said. “The fact that a group of journalists managed to do this without too many technical barriers is evidence of a lack of effective protective measures at Tinder.”

Dhondt obtained his PhD from KU Leuven on the security of location-based applications and is the lead author of a recent study into the security of 15 dating apps, including Tinder.

“If that information falls into the wrong hands, the consequences for the people and groups of people concerned can be far-reaching”

His research found significant differences in the ways that dating apps handle location data, even within the Match Group, which includes Tinder. Some of the apps in that group, such as Plenty Of Fish (POF) and Meetic, use less precise location data such as a user’s city or neighbourhood, according to Dhondt.

“This significantly reduces the risk of leaking exact locations,” he explained. “Tinder therefore consciously makes a different choice.”

Tinder knows where you are, and can share this data

According to Tinder’s privacy policy, it can collect exact geolocation (latitude and longitude) data with users’ consent (one of the many elements contained in the T&Cs)  – including when they are not using the app.

Tinder also reserves the right to share data from and about users with other Match Group companies, suppliers and advertising partners.

FTM has previously reported on how the sensitive data of military personnel, politicians, police officers and security service employees are for sale in the digital advertising market.

‘Love, sex, friendship or money’

While Tinder’s identified security shortcomings are systematic, militaries have to deal with individual lapses in judgment when it comes to sharing too much information on dating apps.

In the Tinder profiles analysed by FTM, many were instantly identifiable as soldiers: their bios stated that they worked in the military, and even included their specific divisions and roles (such as mechanic and radar specialist).

Often, photos showed them wearing army uniforms. US soldiers tend to have their surname printed on military fatigues. Other uniforms (from various nations) feature emblems indicating the military unit. Many of the photos FTM saw also featured weapons, tanks, and fighter jets.

By combining the Tinder profile information of soldiers with their location data, FTM was able to easily find out more about them from other online sources.

For example, their accounts on LinkedIn, Facebook or Instagram. These platforms can provide surnames and dates of birth, which help to track down and verify home addresses. They also offer the names of friends and family, employment histories, interests, hobbies and favourite places to go out. With just a few searches, an entire life can be pieced together.

The Dutch expert Koot said this kind of information is exactly what countries such as Russia, China and Iran use to reach out to and influence people who have access to sensitive data.

“Of course they don’t immediately ask ‘give me the launch codes’ – it is a grooming process that can be preceded by a long preparation, in order to  extract specific details from the target. Even seemingly unimportant details can in fact be of great value,” Koot said.

“The information that can be obtained via Tinder and from public sources makes it easier to start a conversation, gain trust and build a bond, and ultimately try to extract sensitive information under the promise of love, sex, friendship or money,” he added.

And the dangers presented by dating apps extend beyond targets in the military, according to Koot, who said he thought it was unlikely that Tinder had fully considered these possible consequences of its security settings.

From police to diplomats to civil servants

Not only military personnel are at risk of this flaw in Tinder’s settings. FTM also identified and tracked dozens of other people (mainly Dutch) on Tinder working in law enforcement or diplomacy.

In the Netherlands, a police security analyst, an employee of the interior ministry and an IT specialist at the defence ministry all shared their job titles in their Tinder bios. FTM was able to ascertain their home addresses and dates of birth through public sources. In another case, FTM managed to find the home address of a police chief who had suggested in a photo on social media that he was part of the Netherlands’ Special Intervention Service.

FTM was even able to track a London-based Canadian diplomat on two recent visits to Ukraine.

Underestimating the risks?

Despite the threat posed by Tinder and other applications that share location data, it appears that major countries’ defence ministries are lagging when it comes to taking concrete action.

In January 2018, military analysts observed that soldiers using the fitness app Strava to track their runs were giving away the locations of secret army bases and spy outposts.

Later that year, a joint investigation by Bellingcat and Dutch publication De Correspondent found that another fitness app, Polar, was revealing exercise by military and intelligence personnel in secretive locations including Guantanamo Bay and Baghdad’s Green Zone.

In response to these revelations, the Netherlands’ then-defence minister said army personnel would be banned from using fitness apps – but only on their work phones.

Several Russian and Chinese apps have also been blacklisted by the Dutch ministry of defence in recent years, meaning that the Netherlands’ troops can only use them on their personal devices, according to internal documentsseen by FTM.

However, dating apps such as Tinder are not on the blacklist, meaning that Dutch soldiers are permitted to use them on their work phones.

A spokesperson for the Dutch ministry of defence said military personnel are not allowed to use personal phones while on mission or at classified locations. The spokesperson did not respond to a question about if these rules are actively enforced.

One of the Dutch military personnel who FTM followed via its fake account Naomi agreed to a telephone interview.

“If you guys [FTM] can find out about that so easily, then yes, that is worrying” – a soldier who uses Tinder

Dennis, who works at the Volkel Air Base in the Netherlands, said that troops are informed about the risks of social media and online privacy in their training, but called it “limited”.

“There are apps banned on work phones, such as Strava, but private use is still possible,” he said. “Even on bases, this is not very difficult.”

When asked if he was worried that FTM could track him through Tinder, Dennis said he had nothing to hide. However, he did acknowledge the risks to colleagues in sensitive locations.

“If you guys [FTM] can find out about that so easily, then yes, that is worrying,” he said.

Meanwhile, the US Department of Defense has no mandatory regulations on the use of dating apps but provided advice about “do’s and don’ts” as part of an online privacy and security guide it published in 2021 and re-issued in December 2023.

The guide recommends avoiding using names and photos that appear on other social media apps, and not sharing information about work. When using dating apps, US troops are encouraged to get a paid account to have more control over their privacy, to check and adjust location settings, and to critically read the terms and conditions and privacy policies.

The German ministry of defence’s guidelines on social media are also quite relaxed. A spokesperson from Germany’s Bundeswehr told FTM in response to emailed questions that the country’s military personnel are free to use social media and dating apps such as Tinder.

Military personnel are allowed to share their name, rank and job title on their social media accounts. They are warned about the fact that other people can see what they post online, and are expected to behave as representatives of the armed forces (sexualised content is banned). What German troops are allowed to share on social media – certain photos, for example – depends on the specific policy at a given base, according to the guidelines.

Ultimately, given Tinder’s popularity in several Western countries, it is not a problem that is contained to or that can be solved by any single nation, according to Koot.

“This [situation] offers serious opportunities for foreign intelligence services,” he said. “The only limit on how far malicious people can abuse this is their own imagination.”

The guide recommends avoiding using names and photos that appear on other social media apps, and not sharing information about work. When using dating apps, US troops are encouraged to get a paid account to have more control over their privacy, to check and adjust location settings, and to critically read the terms and conditions and privacy policies.

“The only limit on how far malicious people can abuse this is their own imagination”

The German ministry of defence’s guidelines on social media are also quite relaxed. A spokesperson from Germany’s Bundeswehr told FTM in response to emailed questions that the country’s military personnel are free to use social media and dating apps such as Tinder.

Military personnel are allowed to share their name, rank and job title on their social media accounts. They are warned about the fact that other people can see what they post online, and are expected to behave as representatives of the armed forces (sexualised content is banned). What German troops are allowed to share on social media – certain photos, for example – depends on the specific policy at a given base, according to the guidelines.

Ultimately, given Tinder’s popularity in several Western countries, it is not a problem that is contained to or that can be solved by any single nation, according to Koot.

“This [situation] offers serious opportunities for foreign intelligence services,” he said. “The only limit on how far malicious people can abuse this is their own imagination.”

Methodology

FTM created three free accounts on Tinder under the names Jacky, Naomi and Daisy. Using a computer programme, FTM was able to provide Tinder with false locations and virtually move the fake profiles around several military bases in different countries. By doing so, FTM was able to scroll through the dating profiles of individuals within a certain radius (for example, 5 kilometres), and see how far those users were from the three fake accounts.

Through trilateration, a technique in which FTM digitally changed the position of its accounts to different points to measure the distance to a given individual on Tinder, it was possible to eventually hone in on where those users were actually located.

By using keywords, inspecting profile photos, and repeatedly checking the location data indirectly provided by Tinder, FTM was able to easily identify the profiles of hundreds of military personnel. The investigation also mapped travel movements by monitoring profiles for longer periods of time, although this was not done for any longer than was necessary for the reporting.

Tinder replies:

‘At Tinder, the privacy and safety of our members are of paramount importance. We have implemented robust measures to help ensure that no user can be distinctly tracked through the app. Here’s an overview of the steps we take and our ongoing commitment to member safety: Tinder has developed a sophisticated system to protect our members’ privacy while allowing them to filter profiles based on the approximate distance of potential matches. Rather than using precise locations, we employ privacy and security centric grid snapping methods. [..]

We value the input of the global security research community in identifying and addressing potential vulnerabilities. Through our Bug Bounty Program, we incentivize responsible disclosure of security issues, ensuring that vulnerabilities are addressed promptly and effectively. [..]

That said, we have settings and systems to provide users additional control regarding how they use the Tinder app and how they show up to others in the app.  Our Safety Center and privacy settings are designed to empower users to make informed decisions while maintaining control over their experience. ’

The Forever Lobbying Project

“Bye, Marco.” The team queuing back onto the bus was not wearing shorts and cleats but well-made suits and ties. A few rare women stood out in bright colours in the line of chemical industry bosses leaving the gigantic BASF plant in the port of Antwerp, Belgium. They are the chemical “lobby.”

On this chilly February 20, 73 chief executive officers (CEOs) from 17 sectors gathered to sign the Antwerp Declaration for a European Industrial Deal, or Industrial Deal. Almost all of them operate in the chemical sector. Europe’s most powerful lobbying organisation, the European Chemical Industry Council (Cefic), chartered a bus to transport two-thirds of its board of directors, whose members represent companies like Bayer, from Germany, and Syensqo (formerly Solvay), from Belgium.

“Marco,” the mastermind behind this smoothly-run operation just a few weeks before the European elections, is Marco Mensink, director general of Cefic, a Dutchman with a reputation as a fine strategist. Officially, the summit was all about the future of industry in Europe, destabilised by rising energy prices. But not chemicals. And certainly not PFAS (per- and polyfluoroalkylated substances). However, the February 2023 publication of a European plan to ban all of these “forever chemicals,” ultra-toxic and indestructible in nature, marked the start of a lobbying and disinformation campaign of rare intensity.

After a year’s investigation coordinated by Le Monde, the 46 journalists of the Forever Lobbying Project reveal the secrets of this offensive orchestrated by Cefic, PFAS manufacturers and the plastics lobby. Fighting to prevent the banning of these substances, an alliance of polluters is working to shift the burden of environmental corruption onto society and threaten the economic balance of European nations. According to our estimates, the cost of cleaning up Europe’s pollution could exceed €2 trillion over 20 years if PFAS are not banned.

Credit: Stéphane Horel

Lobbying public authorities

In collaboration with Corporate Europe Observatory, a Brussels-based lobby watchdog organisation, the Forever Lobbying Project team has compiled thousands of pages from 184 184 freedom of information requests filed in 16 countries and to European institutions. Published by 29 media partners, our investigation sheds light on the harassment of public authorities by an armada of lobbyists to water down, or even kill, the historic draft ban. From France and Germany to Slovenia, no one seems to have escaped the grip of the “forever polluters.” Nobody, right to the top.

“Clarity.” On the sidelines of the Industrial Deal that day, Mensink repeated the word to Le Monde a dozen times in just 10 minutes: “We need clarity” on the PFAS ban proposal. Investors, he said, “need clarity about what’s going to happen on these chemicals” used in myriad applications – from the most mundane, like toilet paper, to the most technical, like gaskets in chemical plants. “I don’t think there will be a battle with industry on any PFAS,” said Mensink, as the industry is looking for “solutions” to make the ban “workable.” In the closing photo of the Antwerp summit, dressed in old pink, a woman smiles in front of a hedge of charcoal gray jackets – Ursula von der Leyen. Five months later, in July 2024, freshly reappointed as president of the European Commission, von der Leyen promised that “clarity” would be provided on PFAS.

The Green Deal, the flagship plan announced at the start of her first term at the end of 2019, seems a long way off. So does the “Chemical Strategy for Sustainability” which promised, a year later, a “toxic-free environment” by 2030. The PFAS ban proposal had built on this momentum. Shortly afterward, Germany, Denmark, Norway, the Netherlands and Sweden set about developing a text that would affect the entire chemical “universe” of PFAS at once – over 10,000 substances. Without this, more than 4.4 million tonnes of PFAS would be emitted into the environment over the next 30 years.

In February 2023, five countries therefore proposed a “universal restriction” (uPFAS) under the European REACH regulation (Registration, Evaluation and Authorisation of Chemicals), based on the common characteristic of PFAS: their persistence in the environment, which has earned them the nickname “forever chemicals.” In parallel with the five-country club, the European Chemicals Agency (ECHA), an independent EU agency, is examining the issue.

14 industry groups in battle order

The restriction proposal would apply to all uses of PFAS, unless no alternative was available. It is accompanied by precise derogations and time-limited transition periods, of up to 12 years for the most problematic applications, such as medical implants. Despite this, the public consultation on the text resulted in a deluge of contributions. A year earlier, ECHA was overwhelmed by the 500 comments submitted during the consultation on microplastics alone. This time, the agency received 5,642. With over 100,000 pages to read for both the agency and the five countries, the process was considerably slowed down right from the start. Planned for 2025, the adoption of uPFAS is now no longer envisaged before 2026, or even 2027.

This tidal wave was no accident. Two-thirds of the contributions came from economic players. They “have swamped officials and slowed the system down,” said Vicky Cann, researcher and campaigner with Corporate Europe Observatory, a lobbying watchdog NGO. “It’s a classic tactic, designed to delay the regulatory process. Because delays multiply opportunities to weaken it and increase the risk of derailing it.”

Cann’s investigation, like that of the Forever Lobbying Project, shows unequivocally that this campaign was carefully coordinated. More than 900 comments, for example, were sent from Japan, most of them copy-pasted. The American group Chemours (formerly known as DuPont) set up a password-protected online “advocacy portal,” which provides videos, tutorials and sales pitches to its customers. The lobbying budget of this hyperactive player against uPFAS rose from €550,000 in 2017 to over €2.25 million in 2023, according to its declarations to the EU transparency register.

Industry federations from 14 sectors, including manufacturers of batteries for electric vehicles, medical devices, textiles and semiconductors, joined the battle to defend their use of PFAS, so practical because of their resistance to water, grease and the worst temperatures and conditions. Tefal (Groupe SEB), the French maker of non-stick frying pans, even recruited a former parachute commando officer to head up its crisis management and take the lead within the Federation of the European Cookware, Cutlery and Houseware Industry (FEC).

The most seasoned are the plastics and chemicals sectors. They’re the most influential, too. Operating with a dedicated unit, Plastics Europe highlights the “unique combination of properties” that PFASs provide “in demanding applications where safety and performance are a priority.” All high-performance plastics containing PFAS, fluoropolymers, should be spared the restriction and granted an exemption, the umbrella group argues. The best-known of these is Teflon (polytetrafluoroethylene or PTFE).

Apocalyptic blackmail

But the most powerful force in the field is undoubtedly Cefic, which spends over €10 million on lobbying every year and employs nearly a hundred lobbyists. Its “special uPFAS” internal organisation, which Le Monde obtained via a document access request to the French Economy Ministry, details the involvement of some 15 departments within Cefic, under the supervision of Mensink, responsible for the “strategic overview.”

Two units work for Cefic. One is dedicated to the defense of fluorinated gases, many of them PFAS used in air-conditioning systems. The other, called “FFP4EU” (FluoroProducts & PFAS for Europe), is dedicated to coordination with PFAS manufacturers and users. Spearheaded by firms such as the American companies 3M and Chemours, Japan’s Daikin and France’s Arkema, it brings together around a hundred companies and trade associations. In its internal “tips and tricks” document for contributing effectively to the public consultation, FFP4EU explains to its members how and what to respond to each question. Also listed are “DOs and DON’Ts,” such as “avoid emotions” and “avoid submitting position papers that do not contain objective data.”

This instruction is followed to varying degrees. The words “catastrophic” or “catastrophe” are used in nearly 200 lobbying documents we’ve collected. According to this selected apocalyptic blackmail, the restriction alone could “the end of the rail sector” all European rail traffic (according to the rail sector), bring “to a standstill” aviation, the space industry, security and defence (Aerospace and Defense Industries Association of Europe), or “threatens to wipe out the entire EU automotive sector” (Northvolt, Swedish lithium-ion battery manufacturer, now bankrupt). In September 2023, the president of the European Federation of Pharmaceutical Industries and Associations even went so far as to express his “grave concern” to von der Leyen: “As things stand,” he wrote in an email, “we will be forced to cease pharmaceutical production operations in Europe.”

There are no alternatives to PFAS in most applications, the chorus of economic players repeats. That’s why banning them will have devastating consequences for the economy and our societies. When they aren’t demanding a complete withdrawal of the restriction, industrial actors are calling for more waivers, longer transition periods – up to 40 years for semiconductors – and simple adjustments to current regulations, coupled with self-regulation to control emissions into the environment.

Credit: Stéphane Horel

Germany’s about-face

Europe has seen many a lobbying campaign. But this one stands out from the usual routine of Brussels influence by its scale and coordination and above all because the political players were targeted at a very early stage in the process. First and foremost, the EU’s executive arm. With a preference for Thierry Breton, then the internal market commissioner in charge of industry. A few days after the Industrial Deal, in February 2024, the French politician sent a positive signal to the chemical sector before the plenary of the European Parliament. Then there were the members of the European Parliament, used as relays to disseminate lobbying arguments. The NGO Corporate Europe Observatory noted no fewer than 37 meetings on the subject of PFAS since 2023, two-thirds of them with representatives of economic interests.

But the political betrayal of uPFAS came from Germany. Rather accustomed to being cajoled, its powerful chemical industry got in on the act early, while federal agencies had been hard at work on the restriction from the outset. It’s hard to say exactly how and when the about-face occurred at the highest levels of government. However, at the end of September 2023, at an interministerial PFAS coordination meeting, French officials expressed surprise: “The German government made it known that a restriction embracing all PFAS would not be conceivable, which is rather paradoxical insofar as Germany had carried the project.”

A previously unpublished document, obtained by our German partners, shows that lobbying efforts convinced Robert Habeck, the economy minister and vice chancellor, as early as January 2024, even though he is the leader of the Greens. The memo refers to longer transition periods, an exemption for fluoropolymers and the possibility of continuing to produce PFAS on condition that emissions into the environment are limited.

In May, the signal came from the very top, at the French-German political meeting in Meseberg. In a joint statement, President Emmanuel Macron and Chancellor Olaf Scholz torpedoed uPFAS with barely concealed words, condemning the use of “broad product bans.” So when more than 500 industrialists wrote to Scholz in July 2024 to request the “temporary withdrawal, revision and resubmission of the dossier” of restrictions, they knew they could count on a sympathetic ear.

Dramatic turn of events

Several documents reveal that some of the German states home to chemical parks also exerted pressure on the federal government, Breton and the Commission president. “We urge you to abandon the current approach of banning all PFAS, including the harmless fluoropolymers, and then allowing the most important applications via many derogations,” wrote the governments of Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg to decision-makers in July, repeating the industry’s argument word for word. Neither von der Leyen nor Breton responded to our requests for comment.

The slowness they themselves created by saturating communication channels is worrying manufacturers. They couldn’t wait for ECHA’s conclusions. “It keeps me awake at night,” lamented Cefic director Mensink at a conference on alternatives to PFAS in early November in Copenhagen, Denmark. But, he predicted, “you will probably see the new von der Leyen commission come with alternative proposals already now, which is what we’re working on with the Commission.”

The thousands of documents obtained by Forever Lobbying Project journalists bear witness to this: All this time, and despite incessant requests from lobbyists, the agencies of the five-country club and ECHA remained steadfast, set on their mission of adapting the draft restriction to the contributions received. Until November 20.

That day, ECHA published an “update” with the effect of a bombshell. Highlighting the case of fluoropolymers, the agency mentions “alternative restriction options” and for the first time outlines the possibility of maintaining PFAS production if the objective is “ensuring that emissions into the environment are minimised” is respected. This would concern uses “where evidence suggests that a ban could lead to disproportionate socio-economic impacts.” The wording, which is as ambiguous as can be, left everyone perplexed. Tatiana Santos, of the NGO European Environmental Bureau, said: “But what it shows above all is that the industrial lobbies have dodged accountability, turning the biggest pollution crisis in history into a narrow and short-term economic debate, leaving citizens to bear the staggering cost of inaction -costs that would bankrupt polluters if they were held accountable.”

Will “clarity” come from the person who promised it? In the Clean Industrial Deal that Ursula von der Leyen’s new commission is due to present in mid-February 2025, Mensink confidently states that all will be made clear.

The project received financial support from the Pulitzer Center, the Broad Reach Foundation, Journalismfund Europe, and IJ4EU.

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