Tired of writing about death

In my Side Mirror space, I usually try to discuss something that might lighten our readers’ mood, or at least leave them with a little hope. Unfortunately, for the past two weeks, death has taken over this column.

First came the tragic death of mountaineer Asma Mushtaq, someone with whom I shared connections to both the United Kingdom and Lahore. The following week, this space was dedicated to the death of Islamabad woman Hina Javed—although, perhaps, it would be more honest to call it what it was: a murder.

And now, this week, I find myself writing about the PIMS fire tragedy.

At the same time, I have been deeply disturbed by the devastating floods in Nepal, where hundreds have died and thousands are still missing. Nature can be cruel. Human failure can be crueler. And sometimes, whether the disaster is caused by nature or human negligence, we are left asking the same painful question: could this have been prevented?

But let me return to PIMS.

Between the moment the fire broke out and the moment it was finally put out, 14 newborn babies lost their lives.

I wish I had never written that sentence.

And I wish I never have to write about something like this again. I honestly do not think I have such a strong heart.

These were not merely 14 numbers in a news report. They were 14 lives that had only just begun. Perhaps some parents had waited years to hear that first cry. Families may have already started dreaming about names, schools and futures. And then, within minutes, those dreams were replaced by a grief that no words can fully explain.

The preliminary inquiry report into the PIMS tragedy points towards a much deeper problem. According to its findings, the hospital had allegedly been functioning for years without a clear and professional administrative structure. Senior officials and other relevant staff have reportedly been held responsible for negligence, with recommendations that those found responsible should be removed and replaced by competent professionals.

The proposal to establish a proper governing board and create a lasting administrative framework also seems sensible. A hospital as important as PIMS cannot be allowed to run without clear responsibility and professional management. When an institution deals with thousands of patients every day, safety cannot be an afterthought.

There has, understandably, been enormous public anger. Many people have criticised doctors for failing to save the babies. The grief is real. The anger is understandable. But we must also be fair.

Doctors are not firefighters.

Their job is to treat illness, provide medical care and save lives from disease and injury. If a patient suffers because of poor treatment or medical negligence, doctors can—and should—be held accountable. But a fire is a different kind of emergency. When lives are lost because of poor safety arrangements, faulty systems or administrative failure, we should be careful before placing the entire blame on doctors.

A doctor cannot be expected to replace a firefighter, a rescue worker or a hospital administrator. We need to ask who was responsible for fire alarms, emergency exits, evacuation plans, safety equipment and regular inspections. These are questions for those responsible for running and managing an institution.

That is why the focus on fixing the management system and holding administrators accountable appears to be the right approach. Responsibility should rest with those whose job was to ensure that such a tragedy did not happen—or, at the very least, that the hospital was prepared to deal with it.

The government’s decision to order fire safety audits in public hospitals is necessary. But Pakistan has heard such announcements before. The real test will begin when public attention fades and the cameras move on.

We cannot bring back those 14 babies. No inquiry report can take away the pain of their parents. But perhaps we can honour their brief lives by making sure their deaths bring real change.

I hope that next week, in my Side Mirror space, I can write about life. About hope. About something that makes us smile.

Because, frankly, I am tired of writing about death.