Dr. Gaurav Vaid
On July 16, at Government Medical College (GMC) Jammu, a young female doctor was allegedly kicked in the abdomen by a patient’s attendant. Her “crime”? Informing the family of a cardiac arrest. She was doing her job. She was trying to save a life. She was on duty, not in hiding. And yet, in a moment of grief, rage turned to violence-against the very hands that serve, often thanklessly, at the edge of life and death.
Today, doctors across Jammu are on strike. OPDs are suspended. Services are scaled back. This isn’t a dereliction of duty. It’s a warning flare. Because once again, a brutal cycle resumes: assault, outrage, silence, apathy.
This is not an isolated aberration-it is a national syndrome. It reflects not merely the failure of law, but the collapse of societal ethics, institutional accountability, and the basic compact of trust between healer and patient. A healthcare system can survive shortage and strain. But it cannot survive when its caregivers are under siege.
A Crisis in the Emergency Room
According to the Indian Medical Association (IMA), over 75% of doctors in India have faced some form of workplace violence. The assaults range from verbal abuse and threats to physical attacks and mob lynchings. In some tragic cases, doctors have been killed while on duty.
The geography doesn’t matter-Delhi, Chennai, Ranchi, or Jammu-the crisis is universal. Public hospitals have become battlegrounds, not just for survival of the sick, but survival of the staff.
In this context, the strike in Jammu is not a gesture of protest-it is a cry for help. It is a demand not for privilege, but for basic dignity and protection. For the right to serve without fear. For the right to survive the night shift.
Why Is This Happening?
The violence is not senseless. It is systemic. And it stems from a convergence of five interlocking failures-structural, cultural, legal, and ethical.
1. A System in Collapse
India’s public health infrastructure is chronically underfunded. Hospitals are overburdened, understaffed, and often under-equipped. Doctors manage with limited resources, stretched manpower, and round-the-clock shifts. They become the face of a system that often fails its patients-not out of intent, but out of inertia.
When care fails-when there’s a death, a delay, or a denial-it’s the doctor, not the system, who takes the fall.
2. Communication Breakdown
In high-pressure environments, communication with patients’ families is often rushed, blunt, or nonexistent. Grief needs compassion. Medicine needs consent. But when explanations are scarce and empathy absent, families feel blindsided-and that emotional vacuum often fills with rage.
Doctors are not trained in crisis communication, yet they are expected to convey life-altering news with saintly grace under extreme stress. That is an unfair burden.
3. Misinformation and Moral Panic
The digital era has not necessarily made the public better informed. Misinformation spreads faster than facts. WhatsApp forwards fuel suspicions of “negligence,” “organ theft,” or “intentional killing.” Medical complexity is reduced to conspiracy. Distrust festers-and when patients die, accusations fly.
4. Media’s Role in Framing the Narrative
Mainstream and local media often sensationalise medical incidents without adequate understanding of clinical realities. Headlines like “Negligent Doctor Kills Baby” dominate. The burden of proof shifts unfairly onto the caregiver before any investigation. The social licence to practice medicine is revoked overnight-trial by media, sentence by mob.
5. Legal Vacuum and Impunity
India has no central law that criminalises violence against medical professionals. Some states like Kerala, Odisha, and Karnataka have Medical Protection Acts (MPA), but implementation is patchy. Jammu & Kashmir has no specific law offering robust protection to doctors and nurses. The attacker at GMC Jammu may be booked under general IPC provisions-if at all. But the deterrence is weak, the process slow, and justice, uncertain. Meanwhile, the message is clear: you can assault a doctor and get away with it.
The Law Has Flatlined
During the COVID-19 pandemic, the government introduced a temporary ordinance under the Epidemic Diseases Act (2020), criminalising violence against healthcare workers. It included imprisonment of up to 7 years and compensation for damage to property or injury. But like many emergency measures, this expired with the crisis. It was never codified into permanent law.
In 2019, the Union Health Ministry drafted the “Healthcare Service Personnel and Clinical Establishments (Prohibition of Violence and Damage to Property) Bill,” proposing up to 10 years of imprisonment. It was shelved, reportedly due to inter-ministerial objections that it “created a special category of citizens.”
But this argument misses the point. Doctors are not demanding privilege-they are demanding parity with other frontline personnel. Just as assaults on police, judges, or public servants carry stricter penalties, so should violence against those who hold lives in their hands.
If protecting doctors makes them a special class, then who will volunteer to serve the sick at 3 a.m., in a crumbling ward, surrounded by chaos?
The Human Cost: Seen and Unseen
The psychological and strategic costs of this violence are devastating:
i. Defensive Medicine: Doctors increasingly avoid high-risk procedures or terminal cases, fearing violence or litigation. This affects patient care and delays critical intervention.
ii. Burnout and Exit: Chronic stress, moral injury, and trauma have led to rising cases of depression, anxiety, and suicide among doctors. Many are quitting government service-or leaving India altogether.
iii. Loss of Talent: Young students once called medicine a “noble calling.” Today, it feels like a hazardous gamble. Who will fill this vacuum tomorrow?
iv. Erosion of Trust: The doctor-patient relationship, once sacred, is now increasingly adversarial. We are becoming a society where faith in medicine dies before the patient.
What Must Be Done-Now
The Jammu strike must not end in shallow promises or suspended FIRs. It must become the trigger for long-overdue reform. India needs a Central Law for Protection of Medical Professionals, with:
- Minimum 7-10 years’ imprisonment for assault;
- Compulsory FIR registration and fast-track judicial process;
- CCTV surveillance and biometric access in emergency units;
- Deployment of trained security staff in high-risk hospital zones;
- Legal protection extended to nurses, paramedics, interns, and ambulance staff;
- Compensation to victims of violence and suspension of licences of attackers (if registered caregivers or staff);
This law must be uniform, non-negotiable, and enforced with seriousness.
Beyond Law: Rebuilding the Ethics of Care
While legal reform is necessary, rebuilding the moral architecture of care requires more:
- Curriculum Reform: Medical training must integrate empathy, patient communication, and grief management-not just diagnostics and procedures.
- Hospital Protocols: Grievance redressal cells must exist for both families and staff. Security escalation protocols should be standardised.
- Public Education: National campaigns must sensitise the public about the complexity of medicine and the limits of intervention. Death is not always a failure. Survival is not always guaranteed.
- Responsible Media: Coverage must offer balanced, medically informed narratives. Report violence against doctors with the same urgency as reports of negligence.
- Shared Healing: When a patient dies, the doctor grieves too. Families must be allowed to ask questions-but not to wield fists.
A Moment of Reckoning
To the patients who are inconvenienced today, we understand your pain. We are sorry you are caught in this moment. But please know: this is not about ego or entitlement. We stopped not out of arrogance-but out of fear. Because when doctors are attacked, hospitals become unsafe-not just for staff, but for every patient who walks through the door. This is not merely a healthcare issue. It is a national emergency.
Final Word: Who Heals the Healers?
The assault at GMC Jammu is not just an incident-it is a warning. A system that fails to protect its healers will one day find itself without any left to heal the sick. No medical college, policy paper, or AI solution can replace the judgment, resilience, and care of a human doctor.
To lawmakers: pass the law now.
To the public: protect those who serve you.
To the media: dig deeper than headlines.
And to my fellow doctors: your quiet courage is our last line of defence. Stand firm.
Let this be the last strike.
Because when the healers begin to fall, who will be left to save us?
(The writer is Freelance Writer & Analyst)
