International Political Will

If I had to pin down one main impediment to development in Mumbai, it would have to be the “not my problem” attitude. This attitude is pervasive not only in the government bureaucracy, but in individual citizens.

I pass a construction site each day walking to and from work. It is right on a busy street, only one block from a major metro train station. When the time came to put in the water main, the backhoe was brought out and he tore into the asphalt, tearing a six-foot wide and eight-foot deep trench in the main road. The trench ran nearly 100 yards and crossed an intersection.

There were no orange cones. No barricades to keep drivers or pedestrians away. Drivers had to judge for themselves when the backhoe was going to remain still long enough for them to weave around; if they judged wrong, the large tractor might smash the cars and the occupants inside.

“Not my problem” the private company building the offices says to the residents of Mumbai.

I’ve worked in construction in the U.S. and spent plenty of time laying underground electrical conduit and wire. I know the delicate process of marking out existing gas, water, electrical and phone lines to assure the backhoe doesn’t destroy other pipes while digging the trench.

But this company in Mumbai - they run the backhoe like a toy, shredding every other pipe, conduit, and line in his path. Just so they can lay their water main. The open trench was strewn with torn gas pipes, electrical conduit and phone lines.

“Not my problem” the private company says to every other company that spent money and man hours installing the other services.

And then, after weeks of leaving an open trench just two feet from where drivers pass, it’s time to backfill. Everything is thrown back in; the torn and broken lines are buried in hopes that no one will notice that the building down the street now has no electricity and has to run a generator 24-hours a day (adding to the horrible pollution of the city).

But I use the term “backfill” with hesitation. The dirt and rock is haphazardly thrown back into the trench, leaving a mound where the trench once was. This is left for another three (going on four) weeks for passing motorists and pedestrians to compact. Will asphalt will ever be laid and the road returned to the condition the company found it in?

“Not my problem” is the reply.

And in another couple of weeks, the building down the street will finally decide to fix their electrical problem. They will dig back up the same trench to fix their lines, and in the process rip up the recently installed water main. They’ll backfill the trench without fixing the problem, and a few weeks later the original company constructing the office building will return to fix their water line. They’ll tear up everything in the path and backfill, which means a few weeks later the other building owners will return to fix their electrical line…

In the meanwhile, all the Indian government needs to do to solve the problem is apply practical regulation. This means fines. A government employee should be out there upon the first phone call from an angry resident, informing the private company that is constructing the new office building they will be fined exorbitant amounts each day that the trench remains unfinished. They should also be fined and charged with replacing/fixing existing lines that they destroyed.

And I mean really fined - at least $5,000 a day. This will assure the company fixes the problem fast and fixes it right. That’s the way it works in the U.S. - the government puts the onus on private companies to do things right, and makes the company financially responsible. No private company wants to willingly incur fines of $5,000 a day.

But in India, it’s “not my problem.”

The attitude works its way down to the common man. Mumbai is replete with trash, especially plastic. Everywhere you look there is garbage - in some spots it’s piled several feet high, with dozens of rats scurrying around the piles scavenging for food. From our 10^th story apartment, I sometimes see newspaper, plastic bags of trash, and other litter falling past our window from the floors above.

So I find myself adopting the Mumbai attitude. It’s not my problem. If Mumbaikars want to trash their city or country, so be it.

But riding the metro train across the large bay from New Mumbai to Mumbai proper, I occasionally see passengers toss trash into the bay.

In the first class compartment, a well-dressed man gets up from his seat and walks to the open door near me. He tosses a plastic bag of trash into the water without hesitation.

I wonder where that particular bag will end up. Will it drift out to sea? Will it suffocate a fish or turtle? Will it entangle a bird? Will the contents poison a species? Will it wash up on an east African beach? How many other plastic bags of trash are floating around the ocean that originated here?

“It’s not my problem,” I hear the well-dressed man think as he returns to his seat.

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