M A Hossain,
Another fire, another round of grief, and yet, another reminder that Bangladesh has not learned from its past. On October 14, 2025, a devastating blaze tore through a garment factory and adjacent chemical warehouse in Mirpur’s Rupnagar area, killing at least 16 people and injuring many more. Firefighters battled for hours to bring the inferno under control, but for those trapped inside, especially on the upper floors, help came too late. Most died not from burns, but from inhaling the thick, toxic fumes released when chemicals like hydrogen peroxide and bleaching powder exploded, filling the air with poisonous smoke. The factory’s roof door — a potential escape route — was padlocked with two locks.
These were not accidental deaths. They were preventable. And like many similar tragedies before, the Mirpur fire exposes the lethal blend of institutional neglect, weak enforcement, and moral indifference that continues to define Bangladesh’s industrial safety landscape.
The Mirpur fire is part of a grim continuum. Bangladesh’s cities — especially Dhaka — are dotted with unregulated chemical warehouses sitting beside homes, schools, and garment factories. In 2010, the Nimtali inferno claimed 124 lives when a chemical storage depot ignited in a residential block. In 2019, the Chawkbazar tragedy killed 71. Each time, there were promises: the relocation of hazardous depots, stricter safety oversight, new industrial zoning. Each time, those promises faded as soon as the news cycle moved on.
Between 2019 and 2023, Bangladesh recorded over 100,000 fires nationwide, many involving chemical substances. In 2022 alone, 24,102 fires caused 85 deaths and injured nearly 400 people. Yet these statistics hide an even deeper crisis — one of impunity and systemic failure. Factories and warehouses continue to operate without safety clearances, chemical inventories, or functional fire suppression systems. Inspections, when conducted, are often cursory and riddled with political influence.
The garment industry, a pillar of Bangladesh’s export economy, remains particularly vulnerable. Despite employing millions and contributing billions in foreign exchange, many factories operate in unsafe, converted buildings with inadequate exits and no firefighting equipment. The Mirpur plant, like many others, lacked both a fire safety plan and license. Locked exits, absence of alarms, and untrained workers turn every spark into a potential catastrophe.
Behind every statistic are human lives — young workers, mostly women, who came to Dhaka seeking livelihoods and instead found death in locked rooms. Families stood outside the smoldering ruins of the Mirpur factory clutching photos of missing loved ones. Some could not identify the charred bodies.
What makes the tragedy unbearable is that authorities knew this would happen again. The Fire Service had repeatedly warned about illegal chemical depots in Mirpur, Lalbagh, and Shyampur. After Chawkbazar, the government launched a relocation project to move chemical warehouses to Keraniganj and later to Munshiganj. Years later, that project remains mired in bureaucratic paralysis. Temporary measures — like moving storage to Tongi — were announced but never implemented.
Political expediency, corruption, and indifference have allowed these “chemical bombs” to remain embedded in residential neighborhoods. Firefighters have repeatedly stated that 60 percent of Dhaka’s buildings are unsafe or highly risky in fire safety terms, while two-thirds violate basic building codes. These are not isolated lapses; they are the architecture of neglect.
The regulatory machinery for fire safety in Bangladesh is complex but ineffective. The Fire Service and Civil Defence Department, the Department of Inspection for Factories and Establishments (DIFE), and the Ministry of Industries all share overlapping responsibilities. Yet coordination among them is rare. Most inspections happen post-disaster, not before.
Factory owners often ignore safety compliance to cut costs, confident that connections or bribes can shield them from consequences. On the other hand, workers rarely receive training in emergency response or chemical hazard awareness. Without fire drills, evacuation routes, or protective gear, panic and confusion reign once a blaze erupts.
Moreover, the absence of a national chemical safety database leaves firefighters guessing what they’re up against when they arrive at a scene. In Mirpur, toxic fumes spread rapidly because responders lacked prior knowledge of stored substances. Such ignorance can turn rescue missions into suicide operations.
Preventing another Mirpur requires more than mourning; it requires systemic reform. Every stakeholder — from policymakers to factory owners, regulators to workers — must assume responsibility.
First, the government must treat fire safety not as a bureaucratic box to tick but as a matter of national security. A central regulatory authority should be established specifically for chemical and industrial fire hazards, equipped with legal power to shut down non-compliant facilities immediately.
Second, chemical warehouses must be relocated out of residential and commercial zones without delay. This process, long stalled, must be handled through transparent, time-bound mechanisms. Industrial zoning should be restructured to ensure hazardous storage is physically segregated, with fire-rated boundaries and controlled ventilation systems.
Third, strict enforcement of building and fire codes is non-negotiable. No factory should operate without approved safety plans, valid fire licenses, and functioning evacuation routes. Digital mapping of industrial buildings and real-time monitoring systems can help inspectors verify compliance remotely.
Fourth, factory owners must invest in genuine safety infrastructure — fire alarms, hydrants, smoke detectors, and emergency lighting — not just symbolic fire extinguishers. Regular fire drills should be made mandatory, with all workers participating at least quarterly.
Fifth, worker training must go beyond slogans. Employees need to understand chemical hazards, evacuation procedures, and first-aid response for toxic exposure. Partnerships with international safety organizations could introduce NFPA-standard (National Fire Protection Association) training modules tailored to Bangladesh’s industrial realities.
Finally, accountability must be uncompromising. Owners who lock exits or ignore safety codes must face criminal charges, not mere fines. Officials who issue licenses to unsafe premises must be named and punished. Without visible justice, deterrence is impossible.
Every time Bangladesh burns, we promise: “Never again.” Yet every few years, we watch the same horror unfold — the same screams from locked rooms, the same grieving mothers. The Mirpur tragedy, like Nimtali and Chawkbazar before it, is not just a failure of enforcement; it is a failure of conscience.
The country’s economic miracle cannot be built on ashes and tears. Industrial safety is not a luxury — it is the foundation of sustainable growth. The government’s moral duty is to protect those who build its prosperity. The private sector’s duty is to value human life over profit margins. And society’s duty is to hold both accountable.
The fire at Mirpur did not only consume a factory; it burned through the illusion that progress can coexist with neglect. If this tragedy cannot awaken reform, nothing will. The question now is painfully simple — how many more lives must be lost before Bangladesh decides that no one should have to die for going to work?
M A Hossain, political and defense analyst based in Bangladesh. He can be reached at: writetomahossain@gmail.com
This article published at :
1. New Age, BD : 19 October, 25
No comments:
Post a Comment