In a development so predictable it could have been written by a committee of insurance adjusters in matching anoraks, the first charges have been laid over that ghastly Hong Kong fire that turned a perfectly respectable building into a towering monument to regulatory negligence. The blaze, which claimed more lives than a budget airline's profit margin, has finally prompted the kind of official action that usually follows a tragedy: a flurry of paperwork and a sacrificial lamb or two for the public's bloodlust.
Let's talk about building safety, shall we? It's not as though we haven't had this conversation before. Remember Grenfell? The architects of that disaster are presumably now working in Hong Kong, because the same old song and dance is being performed here: investigators are 'focusing on building safety failures'. Translation: they've found a few loose screws and a fire extinguisher that expired in 1998. The charges? Something to do with 'negligence' and 'failure to comply with regulations'. I'm sure the defendants will be suitably contrite as they're led away in handcuffs made of recycled platitudes.
But let's not be too hasty to condemn our public servants. After all, it's terribly difficult to ensure that fire exits remain unblocked when there are so many lucrative storage rooms to be rented out. And who can blame the property developers for cutting corners? They were only trying to maximise shareholder value, which is, as we all know, the highest moral calling. The fact that a few dozen people had to die for them to realise that cladding made of kindling might not be ideal is simply the cost of doing business.
The real story here, however, is the sheer audacity of the investigation. I imagine the lead inspector, a man whose tie is tighter than his moral compass, standing before a whiteboard filled with arrows pointing to 'Human Error' and 'Poor Maintenance'. He'll write a report, conclude that 'lessons must be learned', and then everyone will go back to ignoring building codes until the next inferno. This is the circle of life in the world of regulatory oversight.
Meanwhile, the families of the victims will gather outside the courthouse, clutching photographs and demanding justice. They'll get a trial, a bit of prison time for someone low on the totem pole, and a perpetual sense of loss. The rest of us will tut, shake our heads, and move on to the next outrage. Because that's what we do, isn't it? We watch the world burn, literally, and then complain about the smoke.
I need a drink. Not a metaphorical one either. A real one. Preferably gin, preferably served in a glass made from the shattered dreams of everyone who thought this might be different. Cheers.
