The tragedy of India’s second wave

The suffering of the Indian people in the country’s second wave of Covid-19 is a human tragedy on a vast scale. It is also a warning, and a danger, for the world. Many nations have been through dark times in the global pandemic; several with smaller populations still have higher death tolls. But with reports of people dying in the streets outside overwhelmed hospitals running short of oxygen, India today perhaps most closely resembles the worst-case scenarios painted when the virus was identified 16 months ago.

It is a warning to the world against thinking the virus is beaten when cases slow. Narendra Modi’s governing Bharatiya Janata party was premature in declaring the battle won in February. It allowed mass gatherings to resume too quickly, including electoral rallies for state elections, and the Kumbh Mela, the Hindu festival on the Ganges that may have been a superspreader event. Hopes that India was nearing herd immunity proved misguided. While China succeeded in containing its initial outbreak, India’s experience brutally reinforces that of many other nations: without mass vaccinations, Covid can quickly come roaring back even if it seems to be petering out.

The risk for the rest of the world is that the larger the pool of infections globally, the greater the risk of mutations creating more contagious or vaccine-resistant variants. A worrying “double mutant” strain first identified in India has since been found in several other countries. In the global struggle against the virus, the chain of humanity is only as strong as its weakest link.

That makes aid from others not just a moral imperative, but a matter of self-interest. The US, UK, and EU have pledged emergency supplies, including oxygen and ventilators. The US on Sunday belatedly bowed to pressure to ease export controls and supply raw materials for vaccines to India.

This will help India to begin stepping up inoculations. But the country that is home to the world’s largest vaccine manufacturer — the Serum Institute of India — is lagging far behind where it could be, with less than 10 per cent of citizens having had a first dose. Modi was late in signing up jabs for domestic use, ordering an initial 11m for frontline workers only in January. He instead pursued export orders, boasting that Indian-made vaccines — including the AstraZeneca jab licensed to the Serum Institute and a domestically-developed product, Covaxin — would rescue others.

The Indian authorities later halted some large exports of vaccines from the Serum Institute, which will have knock-on effects on supplies to other countries. The government last week also authorised import of vaccines approved by credible regulators elsewhere, dropping an insistence on holding Indian trials, and it made funds available to boost domestic production. But it has come under fire for giving domestic manufacturers permission to raise their prices for jabs that will be procured by states and private entities for under-45s.

Vaccines are still, at best, a long-term solution. Bringing today’s runaway infections under control will require the BJP to act rapidly. That means clear messaging to Indians, and enforcement of restrictions. While full-scale lockdowns are challenging in a country with high levels of urban poverty and itinerant workers, social distancing must be observed, big gatherings should be banned, including religious events and weddings, and travel restricted. Like populists elsewhere, Modi will be reluctant to take actions that might imply his government’s earlier mistakes fuelled today’s outbreak. Unless he does, more funeral pyres will burn across his nation.