A factory building collapses in Bangladesh, killing a thousand garment workers, many of them young girls. “What a tragedy,” we all say.
A woman is found alive, 17 days later, in the rubble. She’s rescued just moments before heavy machinery was due to move in and clear away the wreckage. “What a miracle,” we all say.
Days or weeks or months from now, she returns to work in some other garment factory, with some other child labourers, earning the same exploitative wages from some other garment producer. “What a tragedy,” we won’t say, because we’ll all have moved on to the next thing.