-By Rudrangshi Saha
“Dial 100”—the magic number, right? That’s the mantra they preach, the lifeline we’re conditioned to believe in when danger looms. But what if the threat, the very reason you’d frantically dial the number, happens to be the ones in uniform themselves? Which helpline do we dial when the lines blur between protector and predator? Justice is no longer blind; it's shackled, gagged, and weaponized.
"The IIC upon arrival sexually harassed and molested my fiancée, and I could hear her screams for 30 minutes. Then, she was illegally arrested and forwarded to court.” These are the chilling words of an Army captain from the Sikh Regiment, describing how on the night of September 15, his partner was sexually harassed by the police after they went to file a complaint against 10- 12 miscreants. When even the families of those who have bled for this country aren’t safe, what hope is left for the common citizen? And no, this isn't an isolated nightmare; it’s an abhorrent reality playing on a loop— police brutality in India is rampant, and it's been festering for years, thriving in the rot of an unchecked, corrupt system.
Between 2020 and 2022, India recorded over 4,400 custodial deaths, according to Unbias the News. From 2017-2022, 275 cases of custodial rape were reported, as per Deccan Herald. Globally, the pattern is even more disturbing. In the U.S., fatal police shootings seem to climb steadily, with 710 civilians shot as of August 6, 2024, 154 of them dark-skinned. In 2023 alone, 1,163 fatal shootings were recorded. And in the Philippines? A staggering 6,069 police killings place it first in police brutality. Yet, as India boasts of being the 5th largest economy, we quietly rank 4th globally in police brutality, according to the World Population Review. These are just the reported figures. Imagine the countless voices silenced before they could even speak.
Before we dive in further, here’s a question: what purpose does the police really serve if their primary function has devolved into mere damage control after crimes have already shattered lives? The role of law enforcement is not to mop up the blood after the crime is already done; it is to maintain law and order and preemptively shield society from harm. But here, the approach to solving crime resembles a three-act play. First comes denial—the initial reaction is to downplay the severity of the crime, dismissing it as unworthy of attention or outright refusing to lodge an FIR. If that act falters, we move to the cover-up, where the police dance to the tunes of those entrenched deeper in the system’s rot. Finally, the narrative reaches its tragic conclusion: the crime is muffled, silenced, and erased as if it never occurred. According to Vox, this sordid saga is reflected in the plummeting murder clearance rate, which fell from above 60 percent in 2019 to a dismal 52 percent in 2022.
Moreover, who keeps these so-called guardians in check? It seems the virtuous are stifled, shackled by the chains of politics and corruption, while those who master the art of flattery and play the game of appeasement ascend the ranks. This filth seeps down to the grassroots, where accountability is a mere pipe dream. In fact, according to the National Crime Records Bureau, only 3% of police complaints result in disciplinary action.
Undoubtedly, the main cause of police brutality is a toxic cocktail of inadequate laws, discrimination, institutional culture, and pervasive mental health crises within law enforcement. As Abramson & Denburg highlight, the UN Basic Principles on Use of Force declare that lethal force should be a last resort—yet this principle is trampled upon with alarming regularity all around the world.
It’s almost laughable to think about the fact that despite becoming a veritable incubator of such transgressions, our Indian Police services proudly claims the motto “सūƗणाय खलिनŤहणाय” (to protect the good and destroy evil). Our police force stands as a testament to the insidious legacy of colonial oppression, carefully preserving a grim culture of power abuse and brutality. This institution, rather than serving as a bastion of justice, often resorts to the expedient shortcuts of torture and coercion, particularly targeting the most vulnerable among us—those who lack the social and political clout to fight back.
The roots of this brutality lie deep in the colonial-era framework inherited from British rule, where maintaining order through subjugation was prioritized over ethical investigative practices. Despite the grand narrative of democratic reforms since independence, the police culture of impunity has not only persisted but flourished, fueled by archaic laws that endorse violence and a criminal justice system marred by alarmingly low conviction rates and an utter lack of accountability.
Consider this: According to CNN, custodial deaths and torture, whether through brutal beatings, sexual assaults, or even the barbaric practice of electrocution are not anomalies but rather disturbingly common occurrences. Official data, likely a mere fraction of the truth, reveals a horrifying topography where certain communities like that of Muslims, Dalits, and tribal groups bear the brunt of this state-sanctioned violence. Even after 77 years of independence, if half of our populace cannot traverse their own land with dignity, how can we genuinely claim to be free?
Even high-profile cases, such as the tragic deaths of the innocent Jeyaraj family due to custodial torture in Tamil Nadu (2020) tend to only ignite a short-lived outrage that fizzles into obscurity without provoking meaningful reform. Attempts to seek justice are thwarted by a system rigged in favour of the enforcers of violence, where evidence is manipulated, surveillance conveniently disappears, and the credibility of police is rarely questioned. The absence of an anti-torture law, despite persistent demands from activists, only further solidifies this culture of indemnity. How many more lives must be sacrificed as we keep on waiting for some substantial, potent change?
The chronic understaffing and overwhelming workloads plaguing India's police force— averaging a mere 158 officers per 100,000 citizens exacerbate this crisis. Overburdened and under-resourced, officers often resort to brutal interrogation tactics, not out of sadism, but as a desperate measure in a system that provides no alternatives.
However, frequently, we hear the unsettling refrain that certain criminals "deserve" to die or endure torture. But who are we to assume the mantle of the law? It is neither ours, nor the police's prerogative to label someone a criminal—that responsibility lies squarely with the judiciary. If we assert that a "criminal" deserves to be killed before the verdict is out, what then grants the police the authority to take the law into their own hands and operate above it? When the police kill a killer, what does that make them?
Each year, we witness tragic cases where innocent lives are extinguished due to this reckless approach. Yes, the pursuit of justice may be excruciatingly slow, but is it not far preferable to err on the side of caution than to hastily risk the lives of the innocent? Addressing this complex systemic failure demands more than just legislative band-aids; it requires a profound rethinking of the police's role and an overhaul of their training.
But come and think of it, is it genuinely possible that the ones in power are completely oblivious to these atrocities? The truth is, the perpetuation of this dreadful cycle of violence and corruption thrives precisely because the powerful choose to allow it. As long as those at the helm lack the spine and moral compass to act with conscience, meaningful change will remain a distant dream. No matter how fervently we raise our voices, protest, or fight for justice, as long as the decay suppurates within government offices and institutions, we are merely shouting into the void. And all we can do- is cling to hope.
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