Pakistan loses thousands of citizens every year to incidents that are neither natural nor unavoidable. They are the result of structural neglect, weak regulation, and a national mindset where public safety rarely enters policy debates. From factory fires and school collapses to electrocutions during monsoon rains and road accidents caused by missing signboards, these deaths are not accidents. They are predictable outcomes of a governance system that treats safety as an afterthought.
Public safety is framed as a sectoral issue rather than a national priority. When a tragedy occurs, inquiries are launched, and responsibility is temporarily discussed, but the policy cycle ends once public attention moves on. Pakistan has no unified national framework on safety standards across transport, construction, utilities, or public infrastructure.
This institutional gap carries measurable consequences. The Pakistan Bureau of Statistics reported more than 27,000 road accident fatalities in 2023, while the National Electric Power Regulatory Authority recorded over 150 preventable electrocution deaths caused by inadequate insulation, exposed wiring, or outdated grids. These numbers rarely make headlines beyond the immediate event.
The pattern is visible across daily life. Building safety remains loosely monitored despite rapid urban expansion. Local governments rely on outdated by-laws that are inconsistently enforced. Collapses of under-construction plazas in Lahore, Karachi, and Quetta reflect the result of weak inspections and informal contracting.
Fire incidents tell a similar story. Pakistan lacks a national fire code, and municipal departments are underfunded and undertrained. The Baldia factory fire in Karachi, which claimed more than 250 lives, became a turning point in discussions about workplace safety, yet subsequent audits by labour departments show that thousands of industrial units continue to operate without emergency exits, alarms, or compliance certifications.
Even the spaces meant to serve the public are not exempt. Railway crossings without barriers, footpaths that disappear into open drains, and pedestrian bridges that remain unusable due to poor design create daily risk. Public-sector transport fleets are rarely inspected, and most provincial authorities do not publish annual safety audits. These are not gaps in infrastructure alone. They reflect an underlying assumption that safety is optional, not mandatory.
Pakistan’s crises often dominate headlines, from economic pressures to political contestation. Yet the quieter crisis of preventable deaths demands equal attention. A society’s commitment to safety reflects its commitment to life. Until public safety becomes a core pillar of national planning, Pakistan will continue to lose citizens to dangers that every functioning state has the capacity to prevent.
The absence of accountability mechanisms reinforces this mindset. When fatalities occur due to collapsed infrastructure, faulty grids, or malfunctioning public services, institutional responsibility rarely translates into structural reform.
Inquiry commissions often lack enforcement authority. Families of victims face procedural hurdles that discourage claims. The issue is compounded by limited public data. Pakistan does not publish consolidated annual reports on safety-related deaths across sectors. This lack of transparency weakens public understanding and policymaking. Without data, safety cannot be treated as a measurable policy outcome.
Economic pressures also shape this environment. Pakistan’s informal economy employs more than 70 percent of the workforce. Most of these jobs operate without regulatory oversight or worker protections. Daily-wage labourers climb unsafe scaffolding, construction workers operate machinery without training, and domestic workers handle electrical appliances without safeguards. The cost of safety is often viewed by small businesses as unaffordable, while regulators lack the resources to monitor compliance. The result is a system where economic survival overrides institutional responsibility.
Public attitudes also play a role. Years of exposure to unmanaged risks have normalised danger. Citizens expect potholes, open ditches and dangling wires. Fatal incidents are perceived as individual misfortunes rather than systemic failures. This cultural desensitisation allows negligence to persist without political urgency. Countries that have reduced preventable deaths, from Turkey to Malaysia, did so by recognising safety as a core governance responsibility rather than a discretionary public service.
There are examples of improvement. Punjab’s building control authorities have expanded inspections in major cities, and the National Highway and Motorway Police continues to earn recognition for its professionalism. Karachi’s rescue and fire department, after years of neglect, received new equipment and training through public-private partnerships. These initiatives show that progress is possible, but they also reveal a key lesson: safety improves where institutions receive stable leadership, dedicated budgets, and legal authority.
Ultimately, the issue is not that Pakistan lacks the ability to enforce safety standards. It is that public safety has not been framed as a political priority. It does not shape electoral debates, budgetary allocations, or annual performance metrics. Without making safety a measurable governance target, preventable deaths will continue to be recorded as isolated tragedies rather than indicators of systemic failure.
Pakistan’s crises often dominate headlines, from economic pressures to political contestation. Yet the quieter crisis of preventable deaths demands equal attention. A society’s commitment to safety reflects its commitment to life. Until public safety becomes a core pillar of national planning, Pakistan will continue to lose citizens to dangers that every functioning state has the capacity to prevent.
