by Dr Shaikh Ghulam Rasool
Public anger must never replace process, and medical institutions must never assume that public trust is limitless.
In recent years, India has witnessed a troubling increase in cases of medical negligence. The trend has become particularly visible in regions such as Jammu and Kashmir, where distressing accounts of patient mistreatment continue to emerge. Individuals are often denied timely care, misdiagnosed at critical stages, subjected to unhygienic hospital environments, or, in the most tragic cases, lose their lives to avoidable medical errors. These are no longer isolated occurrences. Rather, they suggest a broader failure of accountability within the healthcare system and have provoked widespread public anger. In some instances, this frustration has erupted in hospital corridors, with family members clashing with medical staff or staging protests in response to perceived indifference.
Such developments demand urgent scrutiny. Are these instances the result of individual lapses, or do they indicate a deeper institutional decay within the healthcare sector? Has the medical profession drifted away from its ethical foundation? Is the anger we now see an impulsive response, or is it a desperate outcry from a population that feels abandoned? Above all, what changes are now imperative to repair what has visibly broken?
India’s public health system was originally conceived to ensure timely and equitable healthcare, particularly for rural and economically marginalised populations. Government hospitals, Primary Health Centres (PHCs), and Community Health Centres (CHCs) were designed as the frontline of basic and emergency care. This model, while aspirational, now appears to be faltering.
Reports frequently speak of patients left unattended for hours, ambulances failing to arrive in time, referrals denied without clear reason, and doctors absent from duty. Essential diagnostic services and basic medicines are often unavailable, and communication between medical staff and patients is marked by either brevity or indifference. The system appears stretched beyond its capacity, lacking both resources and responsiveness.
What deepens the crisis is the loss of trust. Citizens fund these public institutions through taxes. They do not approach them as supplicants, but as rightful recipients of ethical and competent care. When they are instead met with neglect or disregard, the resulting sense of betrayal is immense. People enter these spaces with hope, only to depart burdened by trauma. For any society, that is a dangerous trajectory.
Although the failure of infrastructure remains a pressing concern, a deeper crisis stems from the gradual decline of ethical conduct within the medical profession. A government doctor is appointed as a public servant. Their salary is drawn from the state exchequer, and their work is meant to serve the public. The principle is clear: public service takes precedence over personal gain. Yet, this guiding ethic appears to be slipping.
In many regions, government doctors routinely neglect their duties in public hospitals, choosing instead to operate private clinics. Some curtail their hours, while others remain absent from their government posts altogether. These actions, though prohibited under existing service regulations, continue with impunity. The practice is not an open secret, but an accepted reality, sustained by a system that looks the other way.
This behaviour is more than a procedural violation. It represents a fundamental breach of trust. The medical profession is built upon a social contract, one that places the lives and well-being of patients at the centre. When doctors manipulate this trust for personal benefit, the relationship between physician and patient is reduced to one of convenience and cost. The healing role of the doctor gives way to a commercial posture.
There is a pressing need for self-examination within the profession. Doctors must recall the core values that once defined their role. They must embody the spirit of a doctor, one who listens carefully, acts with integrity, and offers care with dignity. What the profession cannot afford is the rise of the doctor, one who views the patient as a burden, wields authority without empathy, and regards medicine as a mere business transaction.
When families face the loss of a loved one due to preventable medical failure, their grief often gives way to anger. The pain of losing someone in circumstances that could have been avoided is not abstract. It is raw, visible, and immediate. In such moments, the anger is justified. It emerges from a sense of betrayal and helplessness.
Yet, the form this anger takes carries its own consequences. Acts of aggression within hospitals, whether directed at staff or property, only worsen an already fragile situation. Threatening medical workers or disrupting services creates a climate of fear, not justice. It affects not only those involved but also other patients and professionals who are trying to function within strained conditions.
Grievances must be addressed, but not through chaos. The response to injustice should be measured, lawful, and focused. Societies must build credible mechanisms of accountability, rooted in legal process and institutional transparency. Justice is not achieved through violence. It must emerge through reform, regulation, and a shared commitment to fairness and equity in public health.
Placing the entire burden of failure on individual doctors would be both reductive and unfair. The patterns emerging across public healthcare point toward deeper institutional shortcomings. A culture of negligence and impunity has taken root, sustained by weak administrative oversight. Health departments routinely fail to monitor hospital functioning, delay disciplinary proceedings, and shield underperforming or culpable personnel. In many cases, it is whistleblowers who face punitive action, while those responsible for misconduct evade scrutiny.
A comprehensive overhaul of the administrative machinery is not optional but necessary. Attendance norms must be enforced with rigour, and service standards clearly articulated and upheld. Ethical codes require firm application. Hospital performance should be audited regularly and linked to patient outcomes and satisfaction. Publicly available dashboards can help track institutional performance in real time, while grievance redress mechanisms must operate transparently and respond within fixed timelines.
Rebuilding trust begins with restoring administrative integrity.
Most preventable medical tragedies have their origins in the collapse of primary care. Across India, Primary Health Centres (PHCs) and Community Health Centres (CHCs) remain inadequately staffed, poorly equipped, and, in some cases, barely functional. Many operate without qualified medical personnel, essential diagnostic tools, or basic supplies. This pushes patients to bypass local care and turn to district or tertiary hospitals, which are already operating beyond capacity.
The solution requires renewed investment in primary care. Every rural settlement must have access to functioning, well-equipped, and well-staffed primary facilities. Doctors who serve consistently in these areas should receive institutional support and incentives. Those who neglect their duties must be held to account.
Community health workers remain essential to rural outreach and must be trained, equipped, and supported to fulfil their role. At the same time, medical education must reorient itself. Rather than promoting specialisation and private opportunity alone, it must cultivate a deep sense of public duty among new graduates. Without such a shift, the system cannot function either efficiently or equitably.
Doctors who serve with humility and dedication are remembered long after they leave. The community values the physician who visits homes, remains on call after hours, explains with clarity, and listens with patience.
But when patients feel overlooked, dismissed, or harmed, their despair takes the shape of anger. Without credible pathways for grievance, this anger finds its release through confrontation and chaos. This pattern, repeated across regions, signals a deeper dysfunction.
The solution lies in establishing a system that rewards integrity and punishes negligence in equal measure. One that offers patients a voice and responds to their concerns with seriousness and urgency. Public anger must never replace process, and medical institutions must never assume that public trust is limitless.
This is a moment that demands reflection from the medical profession itself. Each doctor faces a choice.
One can choose to be a doctor, to heal without pride, to serve without hesitation, to remain present among the people.
Or one can become the doctor, aloof, inaccessible, and protected by power.
The future of public healthcare depends not on systems alone, but on relationships of trust. These relationships must be built upon dignity, responsibility, and mutual respect, from patients and practitioners alike.
(The author is a community health expert, with nine years of service in the rural health programme, and the founder and chief patron of the J&K RTI Movement and Tosamaidan Bachav Front (TBF). Views are personal.)
