The flames that gutted a high-rise in Mumbai last night have not just claimed lives. They have reignited a long-simmering question in the corridors of Westminster and Whitehall: what responsibility does Britain bear for the fire safety standards of buildings it helped design abroad?
The death toll is still rising. At least thirty, possibly more. The building was a 1990s construction, a joint venture between a local developer and a British architecture firm. The cladding, we are told, was imported from the UK. The parallels with Grenfell are unavoidable. They are also politically inconvenient.
Sources inside the Foreign Office admit to a “quiet panic” this morning. The Indian High Commissioner has already requested a formal briefing from the Ministry of Housing. The official line is one of “deepest sympathies” and a pledge to “assist in any way possible”. Off the record, officials are fretting about the diplomatic fallout. The phrase “colonial negligence” has been raised in at least one internal email, I am told.
This is not a new problem. The UK’s building safety regime has been under a cloud since the 2017 disaster. The Building Safety Act 2022 was supposed to fix things. But its reach is domestic. The regulations do not cover buildings designed by British firms for foreign clients. There is no legal mechanism for the UK to inspect or enforce standards on projects abroad. The industry has been left to self-regulate.
And self-regulation, as we know, has limits. The architect of the Mumbai tower is a respected London-based firm. They have issued a statement expressing “profound regret” and promising a “full internal review”. But questions are already being asked in the Commons. Labour’s shadow communities secretary has tabled an urgent question. The Lib Dems are calling for a public inquiry. Backbenchers on the Tory side are also restless.
The real fear in No. 10 is that this could become a pattern. India is just the first domino. Similar British-built towers exist across the Commonwealth: in Malaysia, Kenya, Nigeria. Each one is a potential liability. Each one is a reminder of the gap between Britain’s regulatory rhetoric and its international footprint.
One senior minister said to me this morning: “We can’t police the world. But we can’t ignore our own mess either.” That sums up the dilemma. The government is caught between a desire to protect the UK’s reputation as a global leader in safety standards and the reality of a poorly regulated export industry.
The next few days will be telling. The Indian government is demanding answers. The British government is scrambling for a narrative. Expect a joint taskforce to be announced by the end of the week. Expect warm words about “shared values” and “learning lessons”. But do not expect any rapid changes to the law. This government does not move quickly on regulation unless it has to.
What will move quickly, however, is the political blame game. Ministers will point to the previous Labour government, which encouraged these joint ventures in the 1990s. Labour will point to the current government’s slow action on Grenfell. The truth, as ever, lies somewhere in the middle. Both parties have a share of the responsibility.
But for now, the families in Mumbai are grieving. The international community is watching. And in Westminster, the whips are counting heads. This story is just beginning.
