Pasamylaram Chemical Explosion: Lessons Still Unlearnt
Nearly eight years ago, I had the opportunity to visit a multinational chemical manufacturing facility. What struck me most was the seamless integration of technology—complete computerisation, live dashboards, and automated safety protocols that left nothing to chance. The plant operated non-stop, 24/7, 365 days a year, yet its track record on accidents was exemplary. Why? Because it embraced preventive systems: CCTV surveillance, sensors, automated alarms, and round-the-clock monitoring.
These are not optional add-ons. In any industry—hazardous or otherwise—safety infrastructure must be a non-negotiable priority. Unfortunately, India continues to be penny-wise and pound-foolish. Take a simple example: a car tyre that has run over 30,000 km should be replaced. But we often trust the word of a roadside mechanic and continue using it, risking tyre bursts and potential accidents. We’re conditioned to ‘repair’, but rarely in time. The age-old wisdom—a stitch in time saves nine—is known, but seldom followed. In real-world scenarios, that stitch can save lives.
Safety inspections, in many cases, are a joke. In government circles, completing a file is often mistaken for completing the task—“file ka pet bhar diya” is the only objective. It’s paperwork over real action.
Worse still is the treatment of victims and their families post-tragedy. Our empathy quotient remains depressingly low. While Sigachi Industries, in the Pasamylaram tragedy, has announced ₹1 crore compensation per victim, and the government added a token ex gratia, one must ask: Does financial compensation absolve the company of moral and legal accountability?
For many victim families, such a sum—while significant—can quickly become a source of exploitation. In their trauma and grief, are they truly equipped to manage this money? Or will vultures, from both within and outside, swoop in to grab a share?
The company must go beyond writing cheques. It should set up dedicated counselling and rehabilitation cells to help families rebuild their lives—financially, emotionally, and psychologically. These efforts must continue until the families themselves feel they’ve regained some sense of normalcy. No amount of money can replace a loved one. But consistent moral and emotional support can help rebuild shattered lives.
The government must also take responsibility. With today’s digital tools, authorities can and must track how companies are fulfilling their post-tragedy obligations. Victims’ families should be empowered to approach government agencies if they are ignored or left in the lurch after the media spotlight fades.
Both the Labour and Industries Departments must rise above red tape and offer proactive support, regardless of whether the accident occurred in a public or private enterprise.
And above all, we must confront the elephant in the room—corruption. It is corruption that weakens regulation, reduces inspections to formalities, and allows companies to cut corners. Let us not comfort ourselves with Indira Gandhi’s infamous justification that “corruption is a global phenomenon.” At least in the face of death and disaster, this moral bankruptcy must stop.
In developed countries, laws are stringent. Safety is sacrosanct. No compromise is tolerated. Companies invest heavily in surveillance systems, safety devices, and periodic audits. Insurance firms, too, insist on compliance because they bear the financial brunt during major disasters. The result: close coordination between the state and private players, minimal blame games, and a transparent, truthful dialogue with the public.
Spending on safety is not a liability; it’s an investment. It is far better to prevent a tragedy than to compensate for it afterward.
Because ultimately, safety is not just a policy—it is our duty. (Concluded)
