When Carly Vandergriendt witnesses a traffic accident in India, she is left wondering what the value of a human life is in a country where people aren't at a premium.
I might have forgotten the wash of the car's headlights as they revealed a deserted road flanked by havelis (mansions), if it were not for the slouched body of a man that appeared and disappeared in the space of an instant. It was time enough to recognize the blood on his bleached-white dhoti, his legs splayed peculiarly on the pavement and the agony cast in his expression.
I had been in Jaipur for a month and a half and I was in the passenger seat of a local friend's car, en route to a private party on the outskirts of the city. When the car's spotlight fell on the injured figure, we were both silent as we processed the display of a human life seemingly in the balance. But my friend kept driving.
“Shouldn't we stop?”
I knew the answer before the words left my mouth, yet I still can’t look back on that incident without feeling entangled in that man’s fate, as though my own inaction had been a deciding factor. My friend's decision to keep driving through the dark streets (and on to a party, no less) left me appalled. That would never happen in North America, I thought. But the more time I spent in Jaipur, the less useful such point-blank comparisons were. Instead, I began to search for explanations as to why things were the way they were.
Staggering statistics
What I found was that my friend's behaviour was not out of the ordinary. In a survey of road-users in seven of India's major cities, 74 per cent of those questioned answered that they would be unlikely to stop and assist a seriously injured victim should they happen upon an accident. The results of the study, which was led by SaveLife Foundation (SLF), paint a grim picture of the status quo, especially given the sheer volume of accidents that occur on Indian roads.
I myself wondered if India's one billion plus population meant that compassion for others could only be given sparingly.
In 2011 alone, the Ministry of Transportation and Highways recorded a total of 497,686 road accidents, of which nearly one in four were fatal. That makes the number of yearly road-related deaths in India larger than the population of 50 countries in the world. According to a report from the Law Commission of India, proactive bystanders could reduce these deaths by more than 50 per cent. If that is the case, why are people still reluctant to stop and help?
No shortage of compassion
It’s tempting to jump to the conclusion that Indian people have simply become immune to suffering. Indeed, those who travel to India are likely to be shocked by a country where suffering is not confined to hospital wards or institutions. After witnessing the injured man on the road, I wondered if India's one billion plus population meant that compassion for others could only be given sparingly. But as I dug deeper, I learned that this is far from a matter of Indians lacking compassion. In fact, locals are quick to provide aid to victims of other accidents, such as train crashes or building collapses, making bystander inaction a trend unique to road accidents.
I spoke to Piyush Tewari, founder of SLF and a prominent advocate for changes to emergency care policies in India, who clarified that bystanders are only one link in the chain of survival for accident victims. "It is a question of policy, people, procedures, and then implementation. And at this point of time, almost all of these aspects are either completely missing or they are fractured," he explains.
The first link is actually having one number to call in the event of an emergency, a service that I took for granted. “In India we don't have a unified access number that people can call for help, so most people are unaware of who to call for what services," says Tewari. Following such a call, the state must provide emergency vehicles to transport victims, a service that Tewari describes as "existent in many parts of the country and non-existent in many others."
Bystander harassment
Without these utilities in place, a bystander without basic first aid can be of minimal help to a victim. But even when it is possible to call for help and be certain that it will arrive, the unfortunate reality in many parts of India is that Good Samaritans are more likely to be harassed than praised for their actions, often by the police themselves.
"India has no protection for bystanders, so most people are hesitant to help for fear of getting involved in a criminal case or enduring civil liabilities," says Tewari. The findings from SLF's road-user survey also highlighted this concern; 88 per cent of those who said they would be unlikely to assist an accident victim named police questioning and court appearances as major deterrents.
More discouraging is the fact that bystander harassment doesn't usually end with the police. "People who have taken victims to hospitals have reported getting harassed, either by way of a demand for payment for the treatment of the victim or detention until police arrive at the hospital to record the case," says Tewari. "The behaviour of hospitals is not something that many people feel encouraged by."
Given the persecution that Good Samaritans may face, I could see my friend's reasons for not stopping. Maybe he was torn by that choice, too.
Help for the helpers
For Tewari, advocating for a Good Samaritan law that would protect bystanders is one of several steps towards empowering people to stop and help road accident victims. Recruiting and training volunteers who can provide emergency assistance is another—one that has already been implemented by SLF with success. Tewari says that people are eager to come forward, because it means being recognized for their good deeds. "They see that this is a chance to help society and assist the country," he says.
When I think back to that night, I now realize that I was trying to squeeze India into a North American box. It's an easy trap to fall into when visiting a new place; after all, it's natural to expect that many things will operate the way they do in our home countries since those rules and regulations govern the bulk of our experiences.
But while making comparisons between foreign and familiar is an important part of identifying different ways of life, there is a danger to drawing conclusions about a country and its people without knowing all the facts. Although my experience was a disturbing one, it was also a reminder to look beyond what I see on the surface. As a traveller, my goal is not to pass judgment but to dig for the deeper truths of the human experience.