Rana Plaza disaster: Aid came, compensation never did

Concrete, dust and silence swallowed thousands of lives within minutes in Savar -- turning an ordinary workday into one of the deadliest industrial disasters in modern history and the worst structural failure ever recorded.

The collapse of Rana Plaza on April 24, 2013, killed at least 1,136 garment workers and injured thousands more, leaving behind a legacy of grief that continues to shape lives more than a decade later.

For many survivors, the tragedy did not end with rescue.

Nilufa Begum, once a garment worker, now walks with difficulty after undergoing 11 surgeries. The financial assistance she received has long been exhausted.

“I still need treatment, but I cannot afford it,” she said.

Her life has been marked by loss beyond the collapse itself.

Her husband left her, taking what little financial support she had received. Now, she struggles to raise her teenage son while coping with chronic health complications.

Masuda, another survivor, lives with spinal injuries and persistent pain.

“I cannot work. Even small tasks cause swelling,” she said. “My monthly medicine costs more than I can manage.”

For families of the victims, time has not healed the loss.

What followed the disaster was an outpouring of financial support from home and abroad.

Around Tk127 crore was deposited into the Prime Minister’s Relief Fund, while an internationally coordinated initiative, the Rana Plaza Arrangement, raised about $30 million and provided payments to thousands of beneficiaries.

Yet labour leaders say these were acts of humanitarian assistance, not structured compensation.

“The funds were voluntary donations. They were not based on any legal framework,” said Taslima Akhter of Bangladesh Garments Sramik Samhati.

A large portion of the relief fund -- around Tk85 crore -- remains unaccounted for, with findings of a government probe yet to be made public.

At the centre of the issue lies a legal structure that many say falls short of addressing such tragedies.

Under the Bangladesh Labour Act, compensation for workplace deaths is capped at Tk2 lakh, rising slightly for permanent disability -- figures widely seen as inadequate given the scale of loss.

Workers’ organisations have long demanded compensation based on lifetime earnings, alongside long-term medical care, rehabilitation and social protection. These demands remain largely unmet.

“What workers received was charity, not justice,” said labour leader Khairul Mamun Mintu.

The absence of a comprehensive compensation system extends beyond Rana Plaza.

Similar patterns have been seen in other industrial accidents, where victims’ families received limited financial support without long-term security.

Experts say this reflects a broader gap in worker protection, including the lack of a national disability assessment system and limited access to sustained medical and psychological care.

Some initiatives, such as the Employment Injury Scheme introduced in parts of the garment sector, aim to address these issues through social insurance.

However, they remain limited and are yet to be implemented nationwide.

Meanwhile, the legal process linked to the collapse continues without resolution.

As years pass, witnesses have died or disappeared, weakening the prosecution and prolonging uncertainty.

Officials say final compensation liabilities depend on the outcome of the trial, leaving victims in prolonged limbo.

For many, the wait itself has become part of the suffering.

Beyond its human toll, the collapse triggered a global reckoning, exposing the hidden costs of fast fashion and forcing international brands and regulators to confront safety failures in supply chains.

Yet, on the ground, the story remains unfinished.

The site of Rana Plaza now stands largely silent, a physical void where a towering structure once stood.

But for those who lived through it, and those who lost everything, the memory is anything but distant.

More than a decade on, Rana Plaza is no longer just a disaster etched in history.

It is an ongoing reminder of fragile protections, unanswered questions and a struggle for dignity that remains unresolved.