Are Indian police essentially good human beings who sometimes impose fear to contain crime and deter criminal activities, or are they temperamentally aggressive and abusive? In a country where no one follows rules willingly unless the fear of punishment looms, how can a cop remain humane and sensitive to people’s needs and concerns?
Alfred Hitchcock, the iconic director of suspense thrillers who mastered visualising tension, murder scenes, and psychological thrills, had a childhood experience that shaped his lifelong fear of authority. When he was four or five, his father sent him to a police station with a note. The officer read it, locked the young boy in a cell for five to ten minutes, and said, “This is what we do to naughty boys.”
Years later, when asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, Hitchcock was certain about one thing—he would never become a police officer. Though his films featured detectives solving mysteries of psychopathic killers and hidden murderers amid city life, he openly admitted his fear of authoritative figures—police, priests, and teachers. Was it those brief minutes of lost freedom that made him so timid? He confessed to being a coward at heart.
Hitchcock channelled his fears into darkly brilliant suspense movies. But how do ordinary people process their good or bad memories of police interactions?
Police insensitivity is a serious problem that disproportionately affects common people. Many factors contribute to this high-handedness – lack of adequate training, a pervasive culture of impunity, and systemic pressures. Addressing police insensitivity requires improving training, fostering accountability, and strengthening community oversight.
Creating a culture of accountability means ensuring officers who commit excesses are promptly investigated and punished. It also involves building a system where colleagues feel safe reporting misconduct.
Is it true that Indian police are fundamentally good, using fear only as a tool to curb crime? After all, in most parts of the world, people obey even basic traffic rules—where their own lives are at risk—only because of fear of punishment.
To what extent do police personnel put their heart into their work? If they were sensitive every time, what would happen to dreaded criminals? These dilemmas plague officers, making it hard to choose the best course.
Complaints of police atrocities are a worldwide phenomenon. It is worth examining the causative factors. Are excesses provoked by law-breakers and criminals, or does a temperamentally authoritative and brutal mindset prevail? At times, it is heart-wrenching to witness how callous and emotionless some cops can be. Their vindictiveness, cruelty, and disregard for others’ liberty and life defy justification. Such actions by a few tarnish the entire law enforcement agency. Negative media coverage and public blame are not always biased or prejudiced.
Slapping, abusing, or beating with sticks a few times is often not even considered brutality by police, revealing a sick mindset. Most officers worldwide crave power, remain compliant to rulers, and view anything against their masters as sabotage. If this perception dominates, people will never see police as friends.
The State often has an interest in perpetuating an image of police as threatening and oppressive, since erring officers are rarely punished promptly through due process. This instills fear of the State itself. Many believe that projecting a macho, manly image earns professional respect and awe, leading to a silent competition in toughness. Withstanding dastardly scenes or extracting confessions through torture is seen as macho strength.
Most cops carry weapons, which alone undermines their image as helpers to approach in need. Interestingly, Indian police—inherited from British legacy—do not arm street constables with firearms in public. Nothing intrinsic in policing makes officers ruthless; policing and counter-terrorism are distinct jobs requiring different aptitudes. Yet militancy and violent protests in many countries have blurred this line, affecting routine crime prevention and societal order.
Democracies worldwide experiment with administrative structures and police systems, but none is foolproof. Every mechanism can be manipulated; accountability systems often fail. The focus must remain on minimising damage and evolving continually.
The USA witnessed the heartless murder of George Floyd by officer Derek Chauvin, who knelt on Floyd’s neck despite pleas—a heinous act captured on camera. The judiciary and executive acted swiftly, convicting and punishing Chauvin. Such prompt deterrence is the minimum expected for erring officers.
In India, institutional credibility often hinges on personal or political gains and losses. Even revered bodies like the Supreme Court and Election Commission face harsh criticism. People readily blame EVM after electoral defeats but accept results when victorious—revealing low ethical standards. In this polarised scenario, police reforms become controversial, and consensus elusive.
Nevertheless, questions persist — Why are police often disrespectful to suspects? Why do people fear visiting police stations to lodge genuine complaints? Why seek contacts even for simple FIRs in vehicle thefts? Why is trust in policing perceived so low? Why does a police visit for enquiry instill fear, or felt disgraceful? Why take pride in breaking rules and acting macho? And why do mobs burn stations or attack personnel when they get the chance?
These dilemmas reflect deep mistrust. While fear may deter crime in a rule-averse society, excessive harshness erodes public confidence. True reform lies in balancing firmness with fairness—making police protectors, not oppressors—so citizens approach them without dread.
Disclaimer
Views expressed above are the author’s own.
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