Acid Attacks: Women's Battle with Disfigurement and Lifelong Trauma
Kamil Szmit
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9-29Sarah: When we talk about the horror of acid attacks, the story that demands our immediate attention is the one written on the bodies and minds of the survivors. The most robust evidence, from a systematic review published just last year, shows that while many women survive these attacks, they are thrown into a lifelong battle. A 2021 study confirms that in approximately 98% of cases, the attack targets the face and neck. This isn't random violence; it's a deliberate attempt to erase a person's identity.
Olivia: I agree the individual stories are absolutely devastating, Sarah. But when we start the conversation with that 98% figure, I worry we're already looking through too narrow a lens. By focusing so intensely on the individual survivor's personal tragedy, we risk missing the larger picture—the societal machine that allows this to happen in the first place. We're looking at the wound, not the weapon or the hand that wielded it.
Sarah: But the wound is the entire battleground for these women. This isn’t just about scarring. The data is horrifyingly specific. The corrosive substances destroy skin, fat, and sometimes even bone. We’re talking about eyelids burning away completely, causing blindness. Mouths and lips being destroyed, making it a struggle just to eat or speak. Cartilage in the nose and ears dissolving. This isn't just a cosmetic issue; it's a fundamental destruction of a person's ability to function, and it necessitates multiple, incredibly expensive reconstructive surgeries that are often completely out of reach.
Olivia: And the fact that they are out of reach is precisely my point. That’s a systemic failure, not just an individual tragedy. But before we get there, I want to challenge this idea that focusing on the individual is the most effective way to drive change. The source material itself flags this risk. It notes that an exclusive focus on the victim’s suffering can inadvertently depoliticize the crime, placing the entire burden of recovery on the individual woman, rather than on the societal structures that failed her.
Sarah: I see it as the exact opposite. Those personal narratives are what galvanize action. Hearing a survivor say, whenever I look at myself in the mirror, I get scared... My mental health is deteriorated, that's not depoliticizing. That is the most powerful political statement there is. It's the catalyst that drives home the urgency for the very medical and psychological care we're talking about. Organizations working on the ground say that addressing these immediate, individual needs is paramount for survival. Broader systemic changes, while important, simply come too late for the woman who can't see or eat today.
Olivia: But that’s the fundamental problem, isn’t it? We’re so busy applying bandages that we’re not asking why these wounds are being inflicted day after day. The stark reality is that this individual suffering is a symptom of a fundamentally broken system. Look at the data from a 2024 study in India. An average of 200-300 acid attacks are reported annually, and in a staggering 95% of those cases, the accused goes unpunished. Ninety-five percent. That’s near-total impunity.
Sarah: Those numbers are horrifying, I don't dispute that for a second. But Olivia, what does telling that to a survivor who needs immediate psychological counseling and her fifth reconstructive surgery actually do for her in that moment? The slow pace of legislative and judicial reform can leave these women in prolonged, agonizing distress. While we're debating policy, their lives are on hold, trapped by trauma. It can take years for the impact of policy changes to be felt. They don't have years.
Olivia: But they also don't have justice, and that's the core of the problem! That same 2024 study showed the conviction rate for these cases plummeted to just 20% in 2021. Even worse, the pendency rate—the number of cases just stuck in the system—rose to 97.5%. That means the system isn't just slow; it's almost completely paralyzed. An acid attack survivor and activist, Shaheen Malik, points out that it’s due to everything from delayed investigations to inefficient courts. So we can provide all the individual care in the world, but if perpetrators know they have a 95% chance of getting away with it, we are just creating a perpetual motion machine of violence and recovery.
Sarah: That’s where you're completely missing the ethical reality of the situation! You're advocating for a system that, by its own admission, will take years to fix. How can we, in good conscience, tell a survivor who is facing blindness and a shattered sense of self *today* to simply wait for a justice system with a 97.5% backlog to maybe, someday, get its act together? That's not a strategy; it's an abdication of our responsibility to the person who is suffering right now. We have to prioritize the immediate, life-altering crisis in front of us.
Olivia: And your focus, while compassionate, risks treating the symptom while the disease rages on! Without addressing the underlying causes, individual support is just a reactive measure. It's a treadmill. We help one survivor, and while we're doing that, another attack happens because the system that is supposed to prevent it and punish it has completely failed. The only sustainable way to stop this is to fix the broken legal frameworks and go after the root causes, like domestic violence and gender inequality, which the India Development Review highlighted just last year. Otherwise, we'll just have an endless line of new individuals needing care. We'll never break the cycle.
Sarah: But the cycle is already broken for the woman who has been attacked! For her, the world has already ended and needs to be rebuilt, piece by piece. Okay, I hear you. A 95% impunity rate is simply indefensible. It means that providing individual care can feel like a losing battle if we don't also tackle the absolute failure of justice. We have to stop the attacks from happening. I can't deny that your evidence points to an urgent need for systemic reform.
Olivia: And I'll give you this, Sarah. The evidence you presented about the immediate, irreversible physical damage—the blindness, the inability to speak—it makes it painfully clear that waiting for policy change is not a moral option. My focus on systemic solutions can feel abstract when you're talking about a real person's life being destroyed in a moment. We have an ethical duty to support those already suffering with everything we've got, not just work to prevent future attacks. They are two sides of the same coin. Individual healing is completely tied to systemic justice.
Sarah: Exactly. They’re interdependent. So maybe the path forward isn't choosing one over the other. The India Development Review mentioned a centralized burns policy. That’s a systemic solution, but it directly streamlines the financial support and rehabilitation programs that help individuals *right now*. It serves both our concerns.
Olivia: Right. And we combine that with what you were advocating for—comprehensive, free medical and psychological support—and also with the prevention programs that focus on domestic violence and gender inequality. If we tackle the root causes, we reduce the future need for the crisis care you're so rightly passionate about. It's about building a system that not only catches survivors but also builds a wall to stop them from falling in the first place.
Sarah: And that includes skill-building. Providing survivors with English and computer classes, vocational training... it gives them economic independence. It directly fights the discrimination and unemployment they face, which is both an individual victory and a systemic statement that they have a right to reintegrate into society. It’s about restoring dignity on every level.
Olivia: So it’s a holistic approach. We aggressively pursue justice to break the cycle of impunity, while simultaneously providing immediate, comprehensive, and free support for every survivor. It’s not a question of individual versus system. It’s about deploying both with equal urgency, recognizing that you can't have true healing for one without justice from the other.