ASK anyone what a human life is worth, and answers would range between ‘priceless’, ‘incalculable’, and ‘more than all the gold in the world’. Incurable nihilists would say ‘worthless’, and the philosophical-minded would lead you astray with gems like ‘every breath is a transaction, decide the price and pay the cost’.

Philosophy and romanticism aside, this is a practical question that governments and organisations grapple with daily.

That one’s life is not considered equal in worth to someone else’s is an unsettling realisation and sounds unfair. But then, such is the nature of our existence. It was reported in the media recently that families of five foreign workers killed in a terrorist attack in Kohistan some months back would each receive a little more than half a million US dollars in compensation from the government. Going by the exchange rate, this would roughly equal a little less than Rs14 crore per family. Meanwhile, the family of the Pakistani driver who was also killed in the attack would get Rs2.5 m. The huge gap between the two amounts notwithstanding, both are insufficient because the victims and relations and emotions associated with them are irreplaceable. However, from another perspective, the driver and his family were shortchanged. Unfortunately, life is more complex than emotions; all else being ‘unequal’ applies more to it than the ceteris paribus so often referred to by economists.

It can take the authorities several years to process claims and determine compensation. Why? Because the concerned bodies have the unenviable task of determining the ‘worth’ of each life lost. Economic and non-economic losses are considered. The former consists of losses in expected income in case of death or decreases resulting from disability. The non-economic losses include pain, trauma, and short- to long-term psychological impacts. To assess economic losses, factors like the victim’s age, academic qualification, means of livelihood, income at the time of death/disability, health condition, and life expectancy are all factored in to extrapolate their earnings from what is determined to be their expected working life.

It can take several years to determine compensation.

Depending upon local laws and other factors, more or different factors may be thrown in or removed from the equation. Back to the incident in Kohistan, a 30-year-old driver earning, let us assume, Rs35,000 a month will not earn more than a 50-year-old engineer earning Rs5m a month possibly for the next 10 years, assuming 60 to be the age of superannuation for both. Of course, these formulae assume that the driver would remain that and will not branch out into entrepreneurship and that the engineer would retain his ability to construct hydropower projects for another 10 years. Hopefully, a clearer picture is beginning to emerge by now as to how your life may be worth more than mine when it comes down to hard-core, economic number crunching.

Before condemning this or that socioeconomic framework, let us bear in mind that even in the old tribal codes, still practised today, a chief’s blood money is many times higher than that of his family members, whose lives are considered far dearer than those of a tribe member.

Victim compensation is a specialised field; in developed economies, its calculation is entrusted to VC attorneys, and individual determinations are made by courts or boards of funds set up by governments in the aftermath of losses from calamities, disasters, wars, or acts of terrorism. One such VC fund was formed

in 2001 in the aftermath of the twin-tower att-a­­cks in New York. Its initial ambit lasted till 2004. As more types of dama­ges, losses, and trauma that cou­­­ld be covered under the fund came to the fore with time, new pieces of legislation were enacted to provide legal cover for the ongoing nature of claim filing and settlements. Currently, the fund’s tenure extends to 2090.

In our local context, while laws, procedures, and protocols to deal with almost any eventuality exist, implementation depends on officialdom’s whims and political expedience. Every fire or rain deluge results in business and trade bodies exhorting the government to compensate for their losses. Why, one must ask, should the government pick up the tab for their decision to forego insurance? When moveable assets like vehicles are lost or damaged, do we ask the government to compensate for them? Either they are insured or they are not. Why should it be any different for other types of assets? Governments should incentivise the insurance sector and encourage employers to enlist their workforce. Faiz Ahmad Faiz rued the voiceless multitudes: “No plaintiff, no witnesses; the blood of the down-to-earth, sustains it.”

The writer is a poet. His latest publication is a collection of satire essays titled Rindana.

Published in Dawn, June 28th, 2024