Thinking back to the early days of flame retardants, people relied on asbestos, halogenated compounds, or plain old layering. These choices often traded one hazard for another. Red phosphorus has a reputation as the cleaner, leaner solution since the 1970s, especially in Asia, as fire safety regulations toughened. Today, pairing red phosphorus with polypropylene in a masterbatch isn’t just about passing codes. It reflects a broader push away from legacy additives that poison water or linger in landfills. Red phosphorus masterbatch production keeps evolving as more countries raise expectations for plastic safety and environmental impact. That’s a steep climb, but necessity moves things forward. I remember seeing polymer factories in the early '90s still handling phosphorus powders in open drums, workers hunkered over without proper ventilation. Now, closed feeding lines, safer handling, and pelletized additives aren’t just available—they’re demanded by buyers who know the consequences of shortcuts.
Polypropylene red phosphorus masterbatch, despite a name that sounds more like a chemistry exam question, turns up in things we touch daily—power tool housings, appliance shells, automotive parts. The idea is simple: mix red phosphorus into a polymer carrier, usually polypropylene resin, then shape it into pellets. These pellets solve two problems at once: they slot into existing plastic-molding machines without fuss, and they stop fires before they spread. What’s less obvious to outsiders is that red phosphorus comes with handling headaches: the dust can ignite in air, and it can form acids that eat through metal. That’s why wrapping the phosphorus in a protective resin is more than convenience—it’s the ticket to safe mass manufacturing. I’ve watched production lines stop dead because the raw phosphorus clumped up or triggered corrosion, so the masterbatch approach does more than just save labor; it keeps the operation running.
Red phosphorus isn’t flashy. Reddish-brown, with a waxy, powdery feel, it looks tame. Don’t let looks fool you. It’s far more stable than white phosphorus, but if you mix it wrong or handle sloppily, it can combust. When compounded into polypropylene, it forms dark-colored pellets—nothing you’d want in a clear plastic bottle. These pellets are heavy, denser than most resins, and a little greasy to handle. Chemically, red phosphorus sits in an awkward spot: it resists combustion under most conditions, but the energy in a factory fire can tip it into reacting with oxygen, releasing phosphoric acid vapors. I’ve stood in rooms where the faint whiff of “matchstick” meant someone left a masterbatch bag open too long near a heater. Safe storage—cool, dry, well-marked bins—becomes a ritual, more than a formality.
Anyone trying to buy polypropylene red phosphorus masterbatch faces a maze of certifications and numbers: phosphorus loading percent (often 10-50%), carrier grade, pellet size, recommended processing temperatures, shelf life. Package labeling includes hazard codes for both flammability and chemical exposure, not just for end-users but for transporters and warehouse staff who might never see the inside of a molding press. Container Liners specify anti-static treatments to reduce the risk of fire from dust buildup. Batch numbers allow recalls, a must for safety-critical parts in trains or electrical housings. I’ve had engineers reject entire shipments over missing documentation; rules are tight because mistakes here literally cost lives.
Making masterbatch sounds easy—melt some polypropylene, tumble in red phosphorus, extrude, and chop into pellets. In practice, control is everything. Too hot, and you risk igniting the phosphorus or degrading the carrier; too cold, and pellets crumble or under-dose their active ingredient. Manufacturers set up closed feeding systems, keep humidity below 50%, and blend under nitrogen if the recipe demands. People sometimes imagine batch preparation as sterile and remote; I’ve crawled above compounding lines where raw phosphorus dust lined hoppers like rust, a constant spark risk. Modern lines use vacuum conveyance and enclosed transfer, but mistakes—spills, static buildup, uneven mixing—still happen. Safety gear isn’t optional, even for short runs. Every operator recalls precedent stories where cutters jammed or pellets bridged and operators rushed in hands-first; safe design saves more fingers than training.
Red phosphorus acts as a fire retardant by forming stable char layers when the plastic heats up—smothering flames and limiting smoke. Unfortunately, phosphorus can seep out and corrode wires, connectors, or the metal molds themselves unless stabilized. Manufacturers beat this by adding surface coatings—silica, metal oxides, or antioxidants—so phosphorus stays put until fire strikes. There’s no single fix; different end products need tweaks, and recipes evolve as standards shift. Chemical suppliers tweak molecule sizes, tweak resin grades, play with coupling agents to get the right balance between safety, color, and cost. I’ve seen some modifications aimed at slashing smoke density, others focused on keeping electrical properties clear for circuit boards. Rarely does a week go by in the plastics industry without someone taking a masterbatch formula back to the lab for fine-tuning.
Red phosphorus masterbatch goes under a heap of names—flame retardant masterbatch, PP red P MB, phosphorus-based fire additive. Trademarked lines fill catalogs: names like RedGuard, PyroStop, or Polysafe. Each seller plays up some unique claim: higher phosphorus loading, better dispersion, safer pellet design. These are more than branding. Buyers want proof of real-world performance, and with so many products on the market, confusion can stall projects or raise headaches for compliance officials trying to trace materials after a fire incident. I keep a running list of synonyms and commercial names in my own notebook because project teams rarely agree on a single term, and the difference between a safe polymer and a failed product often comes down to an overlooked batch code.
Protocols around red phosphorus masterbatch read like emergency handbooks for good reason. Beyond dust ignition, toxic fumes are no joke if the batch burns in a warehouse fire. ISO/IEC, UL 94, RoHS, and REACH certifications all demand regular worry—tests for leaching, fire performance, even migration of phosphorus into cables or water pipes. Plants need strict storage limits—dry, ventilated spaces, grounded bins, clear aisle markings, periodic air monitoring for particulate phosphorus above production hoppers. Emergency plans aren’t optional—staff drills, chemical spill kits, full-face respirators in easy reach. Too many incidents trace back to operators pressured to shortcut lockout steps or cut shifts with hoppers half-cleaned. From my own worksite visits, the stories that never get shared publically—small fires, near-misses—are the fuel that keeps operational standards high.
From small connectors in consumer electronics to thick casings for power tools, red phosphorus masterbatch heads into plastics that run hot or face the risk of electrical shorts. You’ll find it in household wiring, car engine components, electrical plug molds, and portable appliance shells. It’s especially common wherever mixing cost, fire safety, and mechanical resilience throws up a tough challenge. Buyers keep coming back for red phosphorus solutions because so many alternative fire retardants either cost more, weaken plastics, or trigger regulatory headaches over halogen content. In fast-growing economies, demand spikes wherever home wiring and small appliance safety standards leap. Large brands regularly commission third-party audits and random batch tests just to keep insurance coverage—and avoid PR disasters when fire incidents hit the news. I’ve seen whole product lines retooled after an electrical fire traced back to a rival’s lower-grade additive, a reminder that reputation hangs on chemistry as much as customer service.
R&D in this space never stands still. The pressure is split between raising fire barriers and cutting side effects, like the slow leaching or migration of phosphorus. Research teams focus on new coating technologies, bio-sourced resins for carriers, smarter compatibilizers, and even add digital batch tracking for full traceability. Universities and state labs run long-term fire exposure tests in mock-up homes, looking for the point where phosphorus masterbatch either saves the day or fails under real fire loads. Companies funnel big budgets into finding lower-dust, lower-corrosiveness grades. Formerly, research leaned heavily on secrecy, but modern open data from regulatory filings and patents pushes everyone forward. I sat on an advisory meeting where R&D managers rolled out next-generation masterbatch using encapsulation borrowed from pharmaceutical tech, cutting dust release to a fraction. Progress here means faster routes from lab to market, but every leap introduces fresh unknowns and regulatory steps.
Concerns about red phosphorus center not on the raw element—a naturally occurring material in small doses—but what it becomes during decomposition. In fires, it can generate phosphoric acid, smoke, or even corrosive byproducts that attack lungs or wiring. Toxicity studies focus on inhalation risk, water runoff contamination, and slow migration in end-use plastic. Researchers run simulations, animal studies, and in-plastico aging tests to pin down where the limits are. For plant workers, chronic exposure remains a key worry; modern plants invest heavily in air monitoring and regular health checks, but legacy exposure cases still trickle through courts decades later. Consumer risk drops off when the phosphorus is tightly bonded in a finished product—tests back this up repeatedly—but incidents where plastic burns or degrades outside intended limits still prompt recalls or health advisories. Having sifted through safety reports and recall notices, the progress made in containment over the last twenty years stands out, but gaps remain—especially in rapidly industrializing regions with lighter regulation.
Looking ahead, demand shows no sign of leveling. Urbanization, electrification, and the spread of e-mobility all push plastics into places where fire safety is non-negotiable. Tightening toxicity and recycling rules change the game rapidly; buyers and lawmakers want additives that disappear harmlessly at end-of-life but don’t skimp on protection. Researchers experiment with nanostructured coatings, hybrid blends that marry red phosphorus with mineral additives, and digital traceability for each pellet batch. Bio-derived polymers paired with phosphorus push into markets wanting green credentials. In my experience, what matters most to buyers isn’t just cost or safety—it’s the assurance that a masterbatch will stand up to both regulatory inspection and real-world disaster. More than one client has scrapped an entire product redesign after new fire performance standards upended their legacy supplier’s certification. The polypropylene red phosphorus masterbatch story moves quickly, shaped as much by headline-grabbing incidents as by breakthroughs at the lab bench. The next decade will rewrite product lines and safety sheets yet again.
Polypropylene pops up everywhere, from those reusable food containers in your kitchen to the parts inside your car. The stuff is cheap, tough, and flexible. But there’s one big problem. Left on its own, polypropylene burns too easily. In lots of situations—like making electric switches or battery cases—you really want to keep fire out of the picture. This is where red phosphorus comes in.
Red phosphorus isn’t just for old school matchboxes or fireworks. Mixed into a masterbatch—a fancy term for concentrated additives inside pellets—it gives plain polypropylene some serious fire resistance. Instead of flaming up, plastics with this masterbatch swell up and char. That crusty layer blocks oxygen and heat, smothering fire before it takes over. This isn’t a magic bullet. Still, under the right conditions, adding red phosphorus can mean the difference between a melted appliance and one that shrugs off an electrical short.
Think about all the plugs, power strips, and connectors tucked behind your TV. Inside, polypropylene makes up the housing. A small slip-up in wiring could spark trouble. Using a red phosphorus masterbatch helps guard against that happening. I’ve seen the difference in real tests: plastics with this stuff hold firm while regular ones drip and burn. Lives often depend on these small design choices, especially in airplane interiors, server racks, and train parts.
While lots of companies rely on halogen flame retardants, there’s pressure to move away from them. Burning halogen-treated plastics can produce toxic fumes. Red phosphorus produces far less of that, which makes it attractive for folks who want safer workplaces and cleaner recycling. As the rules around flame retardants get tighter—Europe’s RoHS and REACH regulations, for example—many producers have turned to red phosphorus as a way to keep meeting safety codes.
Adding red phosphorus is not as simple as dumping it in. This powder can mess with processing equipment and cause skin irritation. Storage is tricky since moisture and oxygen can break it down. Producers take extra steps: safe handling, stable packaging, sometimes coating the red phosphorus before it joins the plastic. These aren’t minor tasks, but ignoring them has real risks.
Finding the sweet spot between safety and performance keeps researchers busy. Some focus on smarter coating methods that keep red phosphorus locked away until it’s actually needed. Others work on better blends—using enough red phosphorus for fire resistance, but not so much that the plastic gets brittle or tricky to handle.
What’s clear: as more electronics pack into tighter spaces, the demand for safer, fire-resistant plastics will only climb. Makers and regulators share a responsibility here. Careful testing, real transparency on chemical risks, and clear labeling on recyclability all play a part in keeping both workers and end users safe. Polypropylene red phosphorus masterbatch might sound like just another industrial material, but its impact shows up every time a cheap power adapter or socket quietly does its job and disaster doesn’t strike.
Red phosphorus masterbatch goes in as a flame retardant. The question of how much to add doesn’t come out of theory. It pops up every time people in production face a new requirement from an appliance maker, an electronics customer, or even a fire safety regulation. In these moments, the answer is confidential for many and confusing for more. The numbers matter, and so does the context.
You open up industry guides or ask around at a conference, and you’ll hear “It depends on the grade.” Still, real numbers help more than general advice. Most polypropylene mixes with red phosphorus masterbatch fall between 5% and 10% by weight. Some folks push as high as 15% for tougher fire standards, but in ordinary home appliance casings, nobody likes to hit those highs unless forced by tests.
Lowering the dose might sound good for cost and the environment, but cutting it short leads to failed burn tests and lots of frustration. Pair a safe flame retardancy margin with stabilizers for moisture, and you land in that reasonable 5-10% slot.
Go light on the loading, and you end up with brittle, sometimes unevenly colored parts. Parts might pass the first round of tests, only to fail six months later after sitting in a damp warehouse. Swing too far in the other direction and things stop molding right: processability suffers, mechanical properties drop, and dark streaks of phosphorus ruin the look people expect from a plastic part.
In my time at a compounding plant, operators would point out that tiny changes in the loading show up fast on the finished part. Flow problems, poor color—these aren’t small differences. And nobody wants to stop a whole line to play with masterbatch ratios.
Red phosphorus is strong as a flame retardant in polyolefins, but it invites risk. Oxidation is a headache. Stabilizers go in to prevent this problem, and that means the right stabilizer package has to pair with the masterbatch, or you get a mess. Producers set a loading that’s low enough for good processing, high enough to pass UL94 V0 or the equivalent test.
The real-world cost of mistakes: recalls, rejections from customers, warranties, or – the worst case – fire risk. Smart manufacturing builds in enough phosphorus for safety but keeps additives as low as performance allows.
A smarter plant tracks data from every lot. Quality control tests every batch for flame resistance and mechanical properties. Digital tracking and strict inventory policies make sure that nobody grabs the wrong bag and ends up tanking a run with an off-the-mark formula.
Where mistakes happen is in informal substitution: Taking a 10% masterbatch one day, then switching to a 7% batch without recalculating the ratios for the mix. People swap because a supplier runs short or there’s a price cut. This is where trouble brews, because the dosage fits the masterbatch concentration, not just the raw number. Making sure operators understand these ratios beats any theoretical best practice.
Technical teams should test beyond just the initial burn rating. Old parts, heat-aged parts, humid exposure—all of it needs checking. Production managers should fight for consistent supply to keep formulas steady. In the end, the math on red phosphorus in polypropylene demands hands-on management. Sometimes, getting the right answer means trusting actual experience over handbooks.
Anyone working with plastics for even a short while knows there’s no magic ingredient that solves every problem. Masterbatch is handy for adding color or extra qualities to polypropylene, but hoping it will mix perfectly into every grade is setting yourself up for disappointment. Polypropylene comes in plenty of varieties — from high melt-flow grades used in thin film to tough fibers and rigid injection grades. Each type brings its own quirks, and not all blends are happy under the same roof.
A masterbatch designed with a certain resin in mind won’t always hit the mark in another. For example, using a color masterbatch that runs just fine in injection-molded toys can lead to streaks or dull colors in spun fibers. This goes back to things like carrier resin, compatibility of additives, and melting point. If the carrier resin in the masterbatch melts at a different temperature than your base polypropylene, you end up with bits that don’t melt properly—or melt too soon and burn off. That might not sound like a big deal, but the end product can come out weak, off-color, or rough.
Take film production. Anyone who’s stood by an extruder knows that combining the wrong masterbatch with a transparent film grade can drop clarity fast. I’ve personally seen a production line stopped cold over cloudiness that only traced back to the masterbatch carrier. It’s not always the pigment; sometimes the problem lies in the subtle differences between grades and how well they’ve been matched up with the masterbatch recipe.
It’s tempting to think you can get away with ‘universal’ masterbatch, but real experience says otherwise. In packaging, even the slip agents—additives that help plastics slide against each other—can react badly. They might not migrate evenly in a random polypropylene grade, which means jammed machinery or bags sticking together on the shelf. This gets expensive quickly—not just from repairs, but from wasted product and irate customers.
It pays to ask questions before signing off on a batch: Does the supplier match the masterbatch carrier resin to the PP grade you use? Have they run lab tests under real production conditions? Too often, a sales brochure promises compatibility, but the proof is in the run. I prefer suppliers who show test results using the same grade of resin I’ll be running in my plant, not just pretty samples or standard data sheets.
In my experience, a good masterbatch manufacturer works with you, not just for you. They’ll adjust the formula to suit the melt flow, processing temperature, and final use—sometimes by swapping out carrier resins or tuning the pigment loading. Big projects might even call for trial runs with sample masterbatch before the full order goes in. This partnership can make all the difference between smooth production and hours lost tweaking settings to fix unexpected flaws.
If you’re hoping for a shortcut, you usually end up losing time in the long run. A masterbatch that works with injection grade might not fare well in fiber or film, and cutting corners risks bigger headaches. My advice is simple: Match your masterbatch to your polymer, lean on your supplier’s know-how, and insist on real testing over glossy claims. It’s not about chasing a universal solution. It’s making sure every part of the mix belongs together, for a product that’s right from start to finish.
Polypropylene red phosphorus masterbatch isn’t your usual plastic additive. Sure, it has a huge value—giving plastics flame retardance makes everything from electrical housings to car parts safer. Still, red phosphorus brings real hazards to the workbench. Everyone at the plant or lab should know exactly what they’re dealing with. A quick training session saves more than fuss; it sets the tone for a safer workplace. Too many skip the basic rundown and pay in accidents later.
Red phosphorus catches fire if the temperature climbs or if it mixes with strong oxidizers. Smoke and unexplained flames aren’t just rare stories—they happen if someone's careless, or if the blending area isn’t kept clean. Dust is the worst culprit; a thin layer can turn an ordinary workday into a mad dash for the fire extinguisher. Keep surfaces and machinery free from powder. Storing masterbatch in cool, dry conditions goes a long way. Never let sunlight bake the storage area or leave bags open to the air.
No one likes wearing gloves and goggles, especially as the day heats up. Still, skin troubles and eye pain stick around much longer than a half hour of discomfort. A simple set of nitrile gloves, dust masks, and safety glasses chase off the most common rashes and splashes. Clothing matters too: long sleeves, aprons, and closed shoes block the most annoying contact points. Keeping a sink and eyewash station in the work area feels fussy at first, but it’s a lifesaver the day something goes wrong.
Vents and extractors often get ignored until a health specialist brings them up. That’s a mistake. Phosphorus dust and fumes may be invisible, but the body notices pretty quickly—coughing, headaches, and long-term lung issues can pile up year after year. Regular maintenance keeps extractors running the way they should. If the smell in the room starts to change or dust begins to settle outside the usual work zones, give the system a check before things get worse.
Spills happen. The important thing is having a plan that workers remember and actually use. Some shops rely on standard brooms and bins. A better approach involves spill kits with dedicated scoops and anti-static bags. It’s never a good idea to mix anything that touched red phosphorus with regular trash—waste should go straight to containers labeled for hazardous materials. Partnering with certified disposal services keeps environmental fines and audits off the company’s back.
Ongoing training makes the difference between a shop that just gets by and one that prevents incidents before they start. Fire drills and safety refreshers can seem overblown until they’re suddenly needed. Testing air quality, checking personal gear, and walking through an actual emergency response keep skills sharp. Plus, it builds a sense of confidence and routine so nobody panics under pressure.
People who’ve seen even one minor fire or injury involving red phosphorus rarely question the rules again. I saw a co-worker ignore basic glove rules, thinking he’d just “be quick.” He ended up with burns, and the entire line lost a day to investigation and cleaning. Taking two minutes to suit up keeps the whole operation safer, saves money lost to downtime, and saves headaches for both workers and managers in the long run.
Walking into any plastics workshop, you smell innovation and see neat stacks of materials waiting their turn. Polypropylene Red Phosphorus Masterbatch sits in those bags, holding fire retardant power for all sorts of plastic products: wires, cables, appliance parts. This stuff is valuable, but it’s not bulletproof—it’s picky about its environment. I learned the hard way, watching a shipment ruined by a leaky roof and some April humidity.
Red phosphorus plays well in plastic, but it hates water. Even a little moisture in the air gets into bags, seeping deep. Dampness retreats into those granules, setting the stage for clumping and chemical changes. I saw a batch go bad after a summer thunderstorm, just because the storeroom sat close to the factory gates and the staff left windows open. That ruined masterbatch failed the next day’s flame test, and the loss stung—thousands in materials, wasted hours, and anxious calls from our client. A good fix starts with airtight, double-layer packaging: polyethylene liners inside woven sacks.
Light sounds harmless, until you discover the photoactivity of red phosphorus. Sunbeams through the storeroom window kick off chemical shifts you can’t see—until a batch darkens months ahead of shelf life. Heat, on the other hand, rushes those reactions along. Storage in a ventilated space, away from direct sunlight and any machinery that radiates warmth, protects the masterbatch. In an ideal setup, I’d see shelves lined up in a north-facing room, shielded from seasonal temperature swings. Room temperature—anything from 10 to 30 degrees Celsius—keeps the bag contents from “sweating” or hardening.
There’s a temptation to pile up bags for space-saving. In bulk warehouses, tight stacks squeeze out circulation, and bottom bags bear all the weight. After a month, pressure turns the kernels to dust or fuses them into hardened clumps. I’ve cracked open bags and found a brick where granules should rattle. Single-layer shelving works best, with gaps between each bag—simple, but reliable.
Red phosphorus doesn’t make friends with oxidizing agents, acids, or strong alkaline powders. I once walked into a warehouse where a careless delivery left bleach stacked nearby. The cross contamination risk had everyone nervous. Dividing storage into ‘red zones’ for fire retardant materials, with acid/oxidizer shelves far apart, keeps risk low. Clear labeling stops that problem before it grows legs.
No system survives without people who care. In my experience, the best training comes from daily reminders: keep storerooms dry, tidy, and organized. Teams check seals before moving packages into storage, mark the dates of arrival, and rotate stock—first in, first out. I recommend quarterly audits, just to spot leaks, broken windows, or odd smells. That’s what protects product quality, far more than technical jargon from a spec sheet.
No high-tech system replaces basic habits: dry air, closed bags, darkness, and separate spaces for friends and foes. I’ve seen million-dollar inventory made worthless by one leaky pipe. Storing polypropylene red phosphorus masterbatch comes down to discipline and respect for the chemistry at work. That’s a lesson learned from more than one costly surprise, and one I’ll keep repeating to every trainee who crosses the shop floor.
| Names | |
| Preferred IUPAC name | poly(propene) red phosphorus masterbatch |
| Other names |
PP Red Phosphorus Masterbatch Polypropylene RP Masterbatch Red Phosphorus in PP Masterbatch PP Flame Retardant Masterbatch Polypropylene Red P MB |
| Pronunciation | /ˌpɒl.iˌprəʊˈpiːl.iːn rɛd fəˈsfɔːrəs ˈmɑː.stərˌbætʃ/ |
| Identifiers | |
| CAS Number | 25155-89-3 |
| Beilstein Reference | 3933401590 |
| ChEBI | CHEBI:53251 |
| ChEMBL | CHEMBL2106079 |
| DrugBank | null |
| ECHA InfoCard | ECHA InfoCard: 100930256752 |
| EC Number | 02-13-09 |
| Gmelin Reference | 32187 |
| KEGG | C18645 |
| MeSH | Polypropylenes", "Phosphorus, Red", "Drug Carriers", "Excipients", "Polymers", "Composite Materials |
| PubChem CID | 25113497 |
| RTECS number | BQ0700000 |
| UNII | 875O76379W |
| UN number | “UN1338” |
| CompTox Dashboard (EPA) | CompTox Dashboard (EPA)": "DTXSID6054040 |
| Properties | |
| Chemical formula | (C3H6)n + P |
| Molar mass | varies |
| Appearance | Appearance: Red granules |
| Odor | Odorless |
| Density | 1.1 g/cm³ |
| Solubility in water | Insoluble |
| Basicity (pKb) | 1.2±0.5 |
| Magnetic susceptibility (χ) | Diamagnetic |
| Refractive index (nD) | 1.49 |
| Viscosity | 1000-2000 mPa.s (190°C, 2.16kg) |
| Thermochemistry | |
| Std enthalpy of combustion (ΔcH⦵298) | Std enthalpy of combustion (ΔcH⦵298) of Polypropylene Red Phosphorus Masterbatch: -43 to -46 MJ/kg |
| Pharmacology | |
| ATC code | D07AX |
| Hazards | |
| GHS labelling | GHS02, GHS07, GHS08, GHS09 |
| Pictograms | Flame retardant", "Pellets", "PP", "Red phosphorus", "Chemical", "Warning |
| Signal word | Danger |
| Hazard statements | H315, H319, H335, H351 |
| Precautionary statements | P261, P280, P301+P312, P305+P351+P338, P370+P378, P501 |
| NFPA 704 (fire diamond) | 2-3-2 |
| Flash point | 225°C |
| Autoignition temperature | 250°C |
| LD50 (median dose) | > 2000 mg/kg |
| NIOSH | NIOSH: Not Listed |
| PEL (Permissible) | 1 mg/m³ |
| REL (Recommended) | 0.4-1.2% |
| IDLH (Immediate danger) | Not established |
| Related compounds | |
| Related compounds |
Polypropylene Flame Retardant Masterbatch Red Phosphorus Flame Retardant Polypropylene Antioxidant Masterbatch Polyethylene Red Phosphorus Masterbatch Halogen-free Flame Retardant Masterbatch |
