2025-11-11 13:00

I still remember the moment I first read Ernest Obiena’s Facebook post about competing in Taiwan under foggy conditions. He wrote, “During several of the many flights I have taken to compete in pole vault around the world, I have indeed encountered fog warnings at the airport where you can see very little. Well, I had a new experience today. I had my first fog warning in the midst of a pole vault competition in Taiwan.” As someone who has spent years studying sports safety protocols, that post struck a chord with me. It made me reflect on how often we overlook environmental and organizational risks in sports—risks that, when ignored, can lead to tragedies like the one that unfolded at a football match in Indonesia not long ago. That incident, which claimed 135 lives, wasn’t just a freak accident; it was a systemic failure, and it’s high time we talk about what went wrong and what must change.

Let’s start with the facts. On October 1, 2022, a football match between Arema FC and Persebaya Surabaya at Kanjuruhan Stadium in Malang ended in chaos. After Arema’s 3-2 loss, frustrated fans invaded the pitch, prompting police to fire tear gas into the crowds. In the ensuing stampede and suffocation, hundreds were injured, and 135 people lost their lives. Now, I’ve been to similar venues in Southeast Asia, and I can tell you—this wasn’t just about unruly fans or a few bad decisions. It was a perfect storm of negligence: overcrowding, poor stadium design, and a shocking lack of emergency preparedness. For instance, reports indicated the stadium was filled beyond its 38,000 capacity, with some estimates suggesting up to 42,000 tickets were sold. Combine that with locked exits and inadequate ventilation, and you have a recipe for disaster. It reminds me of Obiena’s fog warning—an unexpected hazard that, in a well-managed environment, should have been mitigated. Instead, it became a catalyst for tragedy.

What really gets to me, though, is how preventable this was. I’ve reviewed safety guidelines from organizations like FIFA and the International Association of Venue Managers, and the gaps in Indonesia’s implementation are glaring. Take the use of tear gas—it’s banned in many sports venues globally for a reason. In confined spaces, it can cause panic and respiratory distress, exactly what happened here. But beyond that, there’s a cultural issue at play. In my experience, many regions prioritize passion and profit over protocol. Stadiums are built for spectacle, not safety, and oversight is often lax. I recall attending a local match in Jakarta a few years back where exits were blocked by vendors, and security seemed more focused on checking tickets than managing crowds. It’s these small, cumulative failures that set the stage for something bigger.

Now, let’s talk reforms because that’s where hope lies. In the aftermath, the Indonesian government formed an independent investigation team and pledged changes, like phasing out tear gas in sports venues and upgrading stadium infrastructure. But I’m skeptical—pledges are one thing, action is another. From what I’ve seen, real change requires a mindset shift. For starters, venues need to adopt dynamic risk assessments, similar to what Obiena hinted at with his fog analogy. Just as athletes and officials adjust to unexpected weather, stadium managers should train for scenarios like crowd surges or riots. We also need better data integration; for example, using AI-driven crowd monitoring systems that can detect overcrowding in real-time. I’d estimate that implementing such tech could reduce stampede risks by up to 60%, based on case studies from European stadiums. And let’s not forget the human element—investing in trained security personnel who de-escalate rather than provoke. Frankly, I’d love to see Indonesia lead the region in this, turning Kanjuruhan into a lesson rather than a recurring nightmare.

In closing, the Indonesia football tragedy is a stark reminder that safety isn’t a luxury—it’s a necessity. As Obiena’s post shows, even in elite sports, we face unpredictable challenges, but it’s our preparedness that defines outcomes. I believe that with coordinated efforts—from governments, sports bodies, and communities—we can honor the lives lost by building safer, more resilient venues. It won’t happen overnight, but every step counts. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from years in this field, it’s that prevention always trumps reaction. Let’s not wait for another fog warning to act.

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