As I write this column, Japan is fighting to contain what could be the world’s worst nuclear disaster in 25 years after the cooling failed at a third reactor. Already crippled by an earthquake measuring 9 on the Richter scale, and a tsunami, this is the first nuclear emergency with 24x7 television coverage, tracked on the Web, twitter and across social media sites.

While we share Japan’s terror and sorrow, several critical questions come to mind. There are the obvious ones that relate to the safety of nuclear power plants worldwide, including in India, and in the days to come these will come to the fore. But there is also the broader context of safety preparedness and practices that impact our day-to-day life.
Every year, India celebrates a “National Safety Week” from March 4-10. During the week, there are elocutions, slogan competitions, lectures and workshops on various aspects of safety. But barely a day passes when newspapers and news channels do not refer to an incident that vividly illustrates our appalling lack of safety preparedness and practices in everyday life.
Take just four examples: In December 2004, parts of southern India and the Andaman & Nicobar Islands were ravaged by a tsunami. India was among the worst-affected after Indonesia and Sri Lanka. Some 10,000 people are believed to have died, with thousands more missing. The tsunami cost India more than a billion dollars. In October 2007, India installed an early warning system for tsunamis at the cost of `120 crores. Last week, in the wake of the ferocious tsunami that lashed Japan, we learnt that part of our tsunami alert system has become dysfunctional. Fishermen have broken open and taken away the metal parts of many of the warning buoys deployed in the Indian seas. The government has been quick to deny any shortcomings in the tsunami alert system in the country but has not denied that the buoys had been vandalised.
The second example: air safety. Last week, according to a media report, as many as 57 drunk pilots were detected in random pre-flight medical tests between January 2009 and November 2010. Of these, only 11 lost their jobs for endangering passengers; the rest got away with mild punishments. If you think having a drunk pilot is bad, what about a pilot with a fake license and forged marksheets? Once again, we learn from recent media reports that this too is happening. The Directorate General of Civil Aviation seems to have woken up at long last and is cracking down on errant pilots. Official statements suggest that vigorous checks will be put in place. We can only hope and pray before taking the next flight.
The third heartrending example is from a hospital in Jodhpur in the news. As of now, 18 women, all mothers, have died, allegedly after being administered contaminated intravenous fluid more than a month ago. Of them, 15 died in the last three weeks at the Umaid Hospital due to medical complications during or immediately after they delivered at the hospital. But it is not just mothers. Five babies were stillborn and one was premature. The infants who survived are vulnerable without mothers to take care of them. This case has been a headline grabber for several weeks. But we still don’t know whether the contamination was hospital-acquired or if the manufacturer was at fault. Five different inquiries are currently in progress to find out what went wrong and if there was medical negligence. The results are awaited. Till then, one thing is sure — the string of maternal deaths at this hospital is going to make it that much more difficult for government schemes promoting institutional deliveries.
Once again, though we have institutions and individuals committed to patient safety, safety awareness and safety monitoring is not made a top priority. We have a National Accreditation Board for Hospitals & Healthcare Providers (NABH) under the Quality Council of India. But as the law stands today, hospitals, whether in the private or public sector, are not required to be accredited. B.K. Rana, NABH’s deputy director, says, “Safety consciousness is growing” and that currently his agency has 500 applications for accreditation. But less than 100 hospitals out of the thousands in the country are accredited, despite incentives. The problem is that the vast majority of patients in the country do not insist on accreditation of the hospital they go to and it is perfectly possible to remain in business, and make profits, without accreditation.
As a last example, consider the “building code”. It is now well known that the death toll in last week’s quake would have been far higher if builders in Japan had not adhered strictly to the code. Some high-rise buildings swayed as much as seven feet from the perpendicular during the quake, but stayed upright. Would this happen in India?
The experience of the last major earthquake in this country — the one that took place in Gujarat in 2001 — does not inspire confidence. Many still remember how high-rise buildings in Ahmedabad came crashing down. And what has happened to the building code since then? It’s there, but it’s not mandatory. When buying or renting a flat, how many of us check if the building adheres to the code?
The average Indian’s lack of safety consciousness shows every day, whether through the reluctance to wear hard hats on construction sites or to wear seat belts in cars. Now that we know how many lives were actually saved in Japan due to the safety consciousness of the average Japanese, perhaps it is time we took our own safety more seriously.

n Patralekha Chatterjee writes on development issues in India and emerging economies and can be reached at patralekha.chatterjee@gmail.com