For nearly a century, a class of synthetic chemicals known as PFAS has quietly accumulated in the bodies of living things and the water supplies of thousands of communities, resisting every natural and industrial attempt at elimination. In August 2022, researchers at Northwestern University offered a rare moment of cautious hope: a method using common, low-temperature chemistry to unravel the molecular bonds that make these substances so enduring. The discovery does not yet resolve the crisis, but it reframes what may be possible — a reminder that the same human ingenuity that created a proble
Scientists Discover New Method to Destroy 'Forever Chemicals' Using Common Compounds
One specific portion falls off and sets off a cascade of reactions
So these chemicals have been in our water for decades and we're only now figuring out how to destroy them?
They were invented in the 1930s and started showing up in consumer products in the 40s and 50s. The real problem is that nobody understood how persistent they'd be. Once they're in the environment, they just stay there.
But we did know they were accumulating. The EPA didn't set drinking water limits until June 2022. That's a long time to wait.
True. And even then, the EPA acknowledged that some health effects might occur at concentrations below what they can even detect.
What makes this Northwestern discovery different from what we've been doing?
Instead of burning PFAS at 1,800 degrees—which actually just spreads them around—they found a way to break them down chemically at 248 degrees using lye and a bladder medication.
But here's the catch: it didn't work on PFOS, which is one of the most common types. And they tested it at higher concentrations than what's actually in drinking water.
So it's not a complete solution yet.
No. The researchers themselves say they need to find another method for PFOS. And they're not sure if it works at the low levels we're actually dealing with.
And even if it does work, scaling it up for 2,000 communities is a different problem entirely. You'd need to transport contaminated water to separate facilities.
How long before this is actually available to people?
Experts are saying several years, at minimum. And most researchers think we'll need multiple different approaches, not just one solution.
Il Polso
- PFAS chemicals have contaminated drinking water in over 2,000 American communities, linked to cancers, thyroid disease, and developmental harm — and they show no sign of leaving on their own.
- The only proven destruction method — industrial incineration at nearly 1,800°F — was itself spreading PFAS back into the air of surrounding neighborhoods rather than eliminating the threat.
- Northwestern University chemists broke PFAS molecules apart using lye and a common FDA-approved solvent at just 248°F, turning dangerous compounds into harmless fluoride ions without the environmental blowback of burning.
- The method works on PFOA and GenX chemicals but fails against PFOS, one of the most prevalent and dangerous variants, leaving a critical gap in the solution.
- Experts caution that the technique has only been tested at high concentrations, scaling it to real-world water treatment remains unproven, and no single technology is expected to solve the PFAS crisis alone.
For nearly a century, a class of synthetic chemicals known as PFAS has quietly accumulated in the bodies of living things and the water supplies of thousands of communities, resisting every natural and industrial attempt at elimination. In August 2022, researchers at Northwestern University offered a rare moment of cautious hope: a method using common, low-temperature chemistry to unravel the molecular bonds that make these substances so enduring. The discovery does not yet resolve the crisis, but it reframes what may be possible — a reminder that the same human ingenuity that created a problem can, in time, begin to undo it.
Since their invention in the 1930s, PFAS chemicals have made modern life more convenient — nonstick pans, waterproof jackets, grease-resistant packaging — while quietly accumulating in the environment in ways their creators never fully reckoned with. Unlike most compounds, PFAS do not break down. They persist in soil, water, and air indefinitely, and they have been building up in human bodies for generations. Exposure is now associated with low birth weight, elevated cholesterol, thyroid disease, liver cancer, and kidney cancer. Even after the most notorious variants, PFOA and PFOS, were largely phased out of U.S. manufacturing in the mid-2000s, they remained in the environment — joined by newer substitutes like GenX that carry their own risks. More than 2,000 American communities now have PFAS levels in their drinking water exceeding the EPA's newly tightened safety limits.
For years, the only way to destroy PFAS was to incinerate them at temperatures sometimes exceeding 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit. The process was energy-intensive and, troublingly, appeared to disperse PFAS into the air around incinerator sites rather than eliminate them. In August 2022, Northwestern University chemist William Dichtel and his team published a study describing something fundamentally different: a method that breaks PFAS apart using sodium hydroxide — ordinary lye — and dimethyl sulfoxide, an FDA-approved compound used to treat bladder pain. Heating the mixture to just 248°F caused the PFAS molecules to degrade into fluoride ions and other harmless byproducts. The key was targeting a specific part of the molecule and triggering a chain reaction that dismantled the rest — described by one co-author as smashing a Lego structure into its individual pieces.
The breakthrough is real, but so are its limits. The method worked on PFOA and GenX but left PFOS — among the most common and dangerous PFAS variants — largely intact. It was also tested at concentrations higher than those typically found in contaminated drinking water, leaving open the question of whether it would perform at the trace levels that matter most in real-world treatment. Scaling the technology for use in municipal water systems would require extracting PFAS at treatment facilities and transporting them elsewhere for processing — a logistical challenge that remains unsolved. Researchers outside Northwestern, including environmental engineers at Drexel University, are pursuing parallel approaches, some aimed at working at room temperature entirely. The emerging consensus is that no single method will be sufficient. For the millions of people living near PFAS-contaminated water today, a practical solution remains years away — but the chemistry of possibility has quietly shifted.
For decades, scientists have struggled with a stubborn problem: how to destroy chemicals that refuse to break down. PFAS—per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances, commonly called "forever chemicals"—were invented in the 1930s and began appearing in consumer products in the 1940s and 50s. They made cookware nonstick, clothing water-resistant, food packaging grease-proof. The trouble is that PFAS don't degrade naturally. They linger in air, water, and soil indefinitely, accumulating in human bodies and showing up in drinking water across the country.
The health consequences have become impossible to ignore. Exposure to PFAS is associated with low birth weight, elevated cholesterol, thyroid disease, and increased cancer risk. PFOS, a type of PFAS once widely used in stain-resistant fabrics and food packaging, has been linked to liver cancer. Its chemical cousin PFOA carries an elevated risk of kidney cancer. The chemicals are so persistent that even after PFOA and PFOS were largely phased out of U.S. manufacturing in the mid-2000s, they remain in the environment. They've been replaced by newer variants like GenX, but the old ones never left. According to the Environmental Working Group, approximately 2,000 American communities now have PFAS levels in their drinking water that exceed the EPA's newly established safety limits, set in June at 0.004 parts per trillion for PFOA and 0.02 parts per trillion for PFOS.
Until recently, the only operational method for destroying PFAS required subjecting the chemicals to extreme heat—temperatures sometimes exceeding 1,800 degrees Fahrenheit—in industrial incinerators. The process worked, technically, but it was energy-intensive and carried its own environmental cost. Evidence suggested that incinerators were actually dispersing PFAS into surrounding communities rather than eliminating the threat. When PFAS-laden firefighting foams or contaminated materials were incinerated, the chemicals simply circulated back into the air people breathed.
In August 2022, researchers at Northwestern University published a study describing a fundamentally different approach. William Dichtel, a chemistry professor, and his team discovered that PFAS molecules could be broken down using two relatively benign compounds: sodium hydroxide, commonly known as lye and used in soap manufacturing, and dimethyl sulfoxide, a chemical already approved by the FDA as a medication for bladder pain. The Northwestern team added PFAS molecules to a solution containing these two substances and heated the mixture to just 248 degrees Fahrenheit—a fraction of the temperature required by traditional incineration. The result was striking: the PFAS molecules degraded into fluoride ions and other harmless byproducts.
The reason PFAS are so difficult to destroy lies in their molecular structure. The carbon-fluorine bonds holding these chemicals together are extraordinarily strong. Brittany Trang, a co-author of the study, described the process of breaking them apart as equivalent to smashing a Lego block into individual pieces. What the Northwestern method does is target one specific portion of the PFAS molecule, triggering a cascade of reactions that ultimately dismantles the entire compound. The approach is safer than incineration, requires far less energy, and eliminates the risk of re-releasing PFAS into the environment during disposal.
Yet significant obstacles remain. The Northwestern method successfully degraded PFOA and GenX chemicals, but PFOS—one of the most common and most dangerous variants—resisted the treatment. Dichtel's team is now investigating alternative approaches for that particular chemical. More broadly, the researchers tested their method on PFAS at higher concentrations than those found in most contaminated drinking water. Whether the process works effectively at the extremely low concentrations present in real-world water supplies remains unproven. Christopher Sales, an environmental engineering professor at Drexel University not involved in the research, noted that many proposed PFAS destruction methods have failed to demonstrate effectiveness at such low levels.
Scaling the technology for widespread use presents another challenge. If the Northwestern method were deployed in water treatment systems, the process would likely require extracting PFAS at a treatment facility, then transporting the contaminated material to a separate location where it could be exposed to the lye and dimethyl sulfoxide mixture. Sales posed the central question: "The big question is whether or not this process could be scaled up." He and other researchers are exploring alternative approaches, including methods that might work at room temperature rather than requiring heating at all. The consensus among experts is that no single solution will address the PFAS problem comprehensively. Multiple technologies, deployed in different contexts and at different scales, will likely be necessary. For the 2,000 communities currently dealing with PFAS-contaminated drinking water, a practical, deployable solution remains years away.
Citazioni salienti
One specific portion of these molecules falls off and sets off a cascade of reactions that ultimately breaks these PFAS compounds down to relatively benign products.— William Dichtel, Northwestern University chemistry professor
There's a need for a method to get rid of PFAS in a way that does not continue to pollute.— Brittany Trang, Northwestern University researcher