The day negligence exploded: How greed and ignorance fuelled Sri Lanka’s LPG disaster

• Review of “A Sri Lankan Misadventure” by Nareshkumar B. Handagama

Handagama’s book isn’t just a technical  analysis; it’s a damning indictment of  systemic failure

In 2021, Sri Lanka was rocked by over 400 cooking gas explosions – many fatal, many more injured, and all terrified. Homes and restaurants became death traps overnight. While victims were initially blamed for “using old cookers” or “neglecting maintenance,” Dr. Nareshkumar B. Handagama – a globally renowned chemical engineer, professor, former CEO of Sri Lanka Institute of Nanotechnology – and his meticulously researched book, ‘A Sri Lankan Misadventure’, exposes the shocking truth: the explosions were a manmade disaster fuelled by corporate greed, regulatory negligence, complicit indifference and governmental wilful ignorance.

Ignoring physics and the deadly consequences

Liquefied Petroleum Gas (LPG), used in millions of Sri Lankan kitchens, is typically a mix of propane and butane. For 50 years, Sri Lanka’s standard was 20% propane and 80% butane. This ratio wasn’t arbitrary; it was carefully matched to the safety ratings of regulators, valves, hoses, and cookers designed to handle the resulting pressure inside gas cylinders (around 54 psi at typical Sri Lankan temperatures).

Handagama demonstrates through rigorous thermodynamic modelling what happened next. Sometime in late 2021, without warning or safety testing, the major LPG suppliers (state-owned Litro Gas and private LAUGFS Gas) changed the mixture to 50% propane and 50% butane.

Why does this matter? Propane has a much higher vapour pressure than butane. The 50:50 mix dramatically increased the pressure inside the cylinders. At 32°C (the Sri Lanka’s common ambient temperature), the pressure jumped from the safe 54 psi to a dangerous 89.4 psi.

The result, obviously, was fatal. This step-surge in pressure overwhelmed the existing infrastructure: Regulators (designed for 54 psi) failed, valves and seals leaked, hoses (especially older ones) ruptured, and cooker components couldn’t contain the flow.

Gas leaked silently. LPG being heavier than air, it stagnated and pooled at the floor elevations in kitchens and enclosed spaces. All it needed was a spark – from an electric light switch, a refrigerator, or a match – to ignite the flammable cloud resulting a catastrophic explosion.

While negligent events cascaded and wilful ignorance propagated

 Handagama’s book isn’t just a technical analysis; it’s a damning indictment of systemic failure.

The book strongly implies (citing “kickbacks and greed”) that the change to a 50:50 mix was likely driven by cost/profit considerations in the global LPG market. The exact financial incentive isn’t spelled out, but it only takes one small observation to reveal a deeper scandal: “LPG is sold by mass (kg), not volume. A 50:50 mix at the same cylinder pressure contains less butane – a heavier gas – meaning consumers paid full price for

less fuel.” This isn’t profit; it’s looting. Where do we draw the line between entrepreneurship and fraud? Between “market dynamics” and parasitic exploitation?

Crucially, no Management of Change (MoC) protocol was followed either. Changing a fundamental property like composition without a Hazard and Operability (HAZOP) study is, as Handagama states, “border[ing] on insanity” in process engineering. Basic safety engineering was ignored.

In a move that was dismissive to the victims at best, and disrespectful at worst, when explosions surged, companies blamed consumers for “shoddy equipment” and “pandemic neglect.” They refused to acknowledge their own role until forced by courts and public pressure. They actively concealed the composition change.

Even scarier is the fact that the regulators (Sri Lanka Standards Institute – SLSI, Consumer Affairs) were asleep at the wheel! The SLSI standard (20:80) was blatantly violated. Regulators failed to monitor compliance or test imported gas before unloading. As people died and were maimed, regulatory bodies remained largely silent. Where were the pre-shipment checks? The mass audits? Ethics in civil society shouldn’t be a dream.

A government’s prime mandate is public protection. Here, ministers first sided with corporations, ignoring the “demons of negligence”. And despite hundreds of incidents, the Government response was “lukewarm,” delayed, and lacked focus or vigour. Handagama scathingly critiques the appointment of unqualified “Presidential Advisors,” highlighting a chaotic system “where quid pro quo and nepotism dominates.” This lack of genuine technical expertise meant warnings were likely ignored or misunderstood. The Government’s failure to act decisively represented a “gross lapse of ethical imagination” and a “social moral void.” Victims were abandoned while powerful interests were protected.

And throughout the series of unfortunate events, where were Sri Lanka’s chemical engineering faculties? As Handagama asks: “Where had all the ‘cream of the crop’ gone?” Their silence amid technical injustice speaks volumes about complicity in control structures.

“Shame on whom? May the reader be the judge and the jury.”

The human cost of institutional failure

The book poignantly dedicates itself to those who “lost their lives in vain... succumbed to the demons of negligence and the devils of ignorance.” Handagama notes tragically that the explosions disproportionately affected lower-income households, highlighting how substandard, unregulated appliances became deadly under the increased LPG operating pressure. This wasn’t just an accident; it was a preventable tragedy enabled by a culture that prioritised profit and convenience over human life and safety.

‘A Sri Lankan Misadventure’ is more than an expert analysis; it’s a crucial public document.

Handagama cuts through the technical complexity to reveal a simple, horrifying truth: People died because institutions failed in their most basic duties.

The book is a powerful call for accountability – prosecution of those responsible for the reckless composition change and cover-up and compensation for victims. It’s a call for regulatory reform – mandatory pre-discharge testing of LPG, strict enforcement of SLSI standards, and robust MoC protocols, are the least of Dr. Handagama’s recommendations. And above all, it’s a call for a better safety culture – A fundamental shift where safety is paramount, transparency is demanded, and technical competence guides decisions – in both corporations and government.

A Sri Lankan Misadventure is also a mirror held to a society; where oligarchy overruled oversight, laws bent to profit, and morality became collateral damage.

This “misadventure” was not fate; it was the direct result of choices made by those in power. Handagama’s work ensures we cannot look away or forget. It demands justice and systemic change to prevent such explosive negligence from ever happening again. The question lingers: “Is this ignorance, or capitalising on ignorance?” Until Sri Lanka confronts its culture of “power without responsibility,” the next misadventure looms.

It is essential reading for every citizen, regulator, and policymaker in Sri Lanka. The book is available through Sarasavi Publishers and bookshops.