That high of a chimney shouldn’t feel that heavy. And yet, in Rouyn-Noranda, the Fonderie Horne’s tall chimney casts more than simply a shadow—it bears a history, a controversy, and for many, a burden they inhale everyday without choice.
This copper smelter has been the region’s economic lifeblood since its establishment. Its furnace heat has provided salaries for generations of households. It refines not just copper but shredded electronics, transforming yesterday’s wasted goods into fresh industrial currency. But it also emits arsenic—and it has for decades.
Glencore, the international firm behind the smelter, stated in February 2026 that it was halting a $300 million investment plan aimed to satisfy Quebec’s increased air quality objectives. That decision hit like a heavy blow across the neighborhood. Not because it occurred unexpectedly—but because it showed just how insecure the future of Rouyn-Noranda’s identity has become.
By stopping the project, Glencore also paused hope. The plan would have drastically decreased the facility’s airborne contaminants, particularly arsenic, which has lingered in soil, lungs, and policy conversations for far too long. Quebec’s government has given the firm until March 2027 to comply with tough new limits. But cooperation, obviously, now has conditions.
| Detail | Information |
|---|---|
| Location | Rouyn-Noranda, Quebec, Canada |
| Owner | Glencore Canada Corporation |
| Function | Canada’s only copper smelter; largest electronic scrap metal processor in NA |
| Employees | Approx. 650 |
| Emissions Concern | Arsenic and heavy metal pollutants |
| Latest Development | $300M environmental investment suspended (Feb 2026) |
| Environmental Deadline | Must meet Quebec’s new standards by March 2027 |
| External Reference | Glencore Canada – Horne Smelter |
Glencore needs assurances—possibly subsidies, maybe regulatory flexibility—before recommitting. In contrast, the province appears divided between safeguarding 650 residents’ jobs and the public’s health. Many of these workers have few alternate alternatives, especially in a location where such specialized industrial employment is increasingly scarce.
What impresses out, particularly, is how deeply this challenge cuts across generational lines. Older inhabitants generally defend the plant as their town’s basis. But younger parents—those raising children within the perimeter of the smelter—are asking new questions. Questions about cancer clusters, about learning difficulties, about what it means to grow up inhaling risk.
I chatted with a teacher last fall who had secretly counted the number of asthma diagnoses in her school. It wasn’t scientific, but it was telling. And the quiet around it, she argued, was louder than any policy argument.
In recent years, public confidence has eroded. Le Monde’s 2022 investigative investigation described Rouyn-Noranda as a “sacrificed zone.” At the time, it felt melodramatic to some. But today, even the city council employs identical terminology in hushed tones. That phrase has reappeared as fact rather than as an insult.
During the summer of 2025, Glencore opened the smelter for public visits. That moment was incredibly effective at drawing in curious neighbors, some of whom have never stepped foot inside the business that defines their skyline. Walking within its rooms, you could almost forget the tension outside. Almost.
Near the molten crucibles, I remember catching a glimpse of a plaque honoring the facility’s opening year. At the time, it struck me as a warning rather than with nostalgia. What was once pride had progressively become compromise.
Rouyn-Noranda is still devoted but exhausted. Local unions continue to campaign strongly for investment, saying that modernization—not closure—is the answer. Their viewpoint makes sense: investments would retain jobs, meet environmental regulations, and show corporate accountability. However, time is running out. Optimism is eroded every month that there is no movement.
Environmental groups, meanwhile, have taken a proactive position. Mapping arsenic exposure zones, distributing air quality monitors, and lobbying for relocation choices for high-risk neighborhoods. Their work has considerably boosted public comprehension of what was long deemed a “unavoidable nuisance.”
Ottawa might intervene in light of the increasing national attention being paid to corporate environmental responsibility. The federal government has not said anything thus far. But if Glencore abandons the project entirely, a toxic legacy would be left behind—both literally and politically.
The irony is piercing. A facility that handles electronics, a representation of innovation and rejuvenation, is falling behind on change. This plant melts the future, yet clings to systems from the past.
Nevertheless, there is hope in this tale despite all. In recent months, a combination of local stakeholders, environmental experts, and civic leaders have presented a revamped investment strategy. Their blueprint, while not formally supported, includes shared costs, transparent emissions reporting, and an independent oversight board. It may not be flawless, but it is incredibly effective at adjusting the tone.
No one is asking Glencore to evaporate. They want it to change.
By exploiting technology breakthroughs in smelting filtration and emissions capture, the plant might become a benchmark—not only for Quebec, but for how industrial facilities can coexist with human life.
That’s not utopian thinking. It’s feasible, if acted on with urgency.
The chimney is still there and can be seen from practically every balcony and playground in the community. However, Rouyn-Noranda is no longer motionless. Pushing, negotiating, recording, and imagining are all part of it. And perhaps—finally—breathing with both defiance and determination.
