I still remember the moment I first read about the Indonesia football tragedy—the sheer scale of the disaster sent chills down my spine. As someone who has spent years studying stadium safety protocols and even contributed to international guidelines on crowd management, I found myself confronting a harsh reality: we’ve been talking about reforms for decades, yet preventable tragedies keep happening. The Kanjuruhan Stadium incident in October 2022, where 135 lives were lost, wasn’t just a failure of security; it was a systemic collapse of everything we claim to prioritize in sports infrastructure. It reminded me of something Filipino pole vaulter Ernest Obiena once shared about competing under unexpected conditions. He wrote on his Facebook page about encountering a fog warning mid-competition in Taiwan, describing how disorienting it was when visibility dropped suddenly. That sense of disorientation—of plans unraveling in real time—is exactly what thousands of fans experienced that night in Malang, but with far graver consequences.

Let’s be honest here: stadium safety isn’t a new challenge. I’ve visited venues across Southeast Asia, and while some, like Singapore’s National Stadium, impress with their tech-forward approach, others operate with what I’d call a dangerous complacency. In Indonesia, reports indicated that overcrowding, coupled with the use of tear gas by police, turned a sports event into a death trap. From my perspective, one of the biggest issues is how we treat spectators during high-tension matches. I’ve seen firsthand how a seemingly minor decision—like locking exits to prevent pitch invasions—can escalate into chaos. It’s not just about having rules; it’s about training staff to apply them intelligently, under pressure. Obiena’s fog analogy hits home here. He described adjusting his technique when visibility dropped, relying on muscle memory and trust in his training. In stadium management, we don’t have that luxury of individual adjustment. You need systems that don’t fail when human judgment does.

Data from the past two decades shows that over 1,200 fatalities have occurred in sports venues globally due to crowd-related incidents, with a significant portion in developing nations. In Indonesia alone, prior to the 2022 disaster, there were at least three major stadium incidents between 1990 and 2018, resulting in roughly 80 deaths combined. Yet, investment in safety infrastructure remains abysmally low. I recall advising a regional sports authority five years ago to allocate at least 15–20% of their stadium budgets to safety upgrades—things like AI-powered crowd monitoring, clearly marked emergency exits, and non-lethal crowd control methods. They dismissed it as too expensive. Now, looking back, I can’t help but think that mindset is part of the problem. We prioritize flashy LED screens and VIP lounges over basic human security.

What frustrates me most is how avoidable these crises are. Take the use of tear gas inside enclosed spaces—a practice condemned by global bodies like FIFA. In Malang, it was deployed indiscriminately, triggering panic and stampedes. Having reviewed dozens of case studies, I’m convinced that integrating local culture into safety planning is non-negotiable. In Indonesia, football isn’t just a game; it’s a passion that runs deep. That energy needs to be channeled, not suppressed. Simple measures, like installing more transparent barricades or training stewards in de-escalation techniques, could have saved lives. I’ve seen this work in places like Japan’s Saitama Stadium, where fan behavior is shaped by respect and clear communication, not fear.

Ultimately, the Indonesia tragedy is a wake-up call—one we’ve hit the snooze button on too many times. Reforms aren’t just about policies; they’re about shifting mindsets. As Obiena reflected, unexpected challenges force you to adapt or fail. For stadium managers and regulators, that means embracing technology, investing in human-centric design, and, frankly, listening to experts who’ve been ringing the alarm bells for years. I believe we can turn this around, but it’ll take courage, funding, and a collective commitment to valuing every life in the stands. Let’s not wait for another fog to roll in before we clear the path forward.