Assaulting Doctors: A case of societal emergency
A few days ago, a disturbing incident unfolded at one of the valley’s tertiary care hospitals, SMHS. A grieving attendant, having lost a close relative, stormed into the emergency ward and, in a moment of unbridled rage, slapped a doctor with partial disability. The blow was so fierce that it floored the doctor instantly.
The video soon became viral on social media and triggered a flood of opinions and outrage. This was not just an assault, it was really a blow that indicated how fragile the patient-doctor relationship had become.
Expectedly, the medical community deeply agitated. Medics temporarily boycotted OPDs and emergency care, wanting more security—not token guards with sticks but a robust system that guarantees their safety.
However, the protest drew mixed reactions. While doctors argued that consultants were handling critical cases, many in the public saw it as an abdication of duty. Protests were justified, but they could have been planned without paralysing essential healthcare. For the mistake of one, the entire population cannot be punished.
Why does this keep happening?
Assaults on doctors in Kashmir are not new. Similar incidents have occurred before, and if history is any guide, this won’t be the last. Why are doctors becoming soft targets?
The easy answer is anger. The harder question is, where does this anger come from?
Yes, there have been instances of medical negligence, and in certain cases, there has been a lack of accountability. But does that justify violence? No way. Violence against medical practitioners is a symptom of something more—a breakdown of trust between patients and healers whom patients are reliant on.
Social media: from information to agitation
The role of social media has made the problem worse. The SMHS incident would have been shocking even without the video, but its going viral amplified outrage. Platforms now function as unregulated newsrooms, devoid of editorial standards. Smartphones start recording not to establish facts but to capture sensational content.
Clips are uploaded without context. Grieving attendants giving angry soundbites are turned into headlines. A narrative forms instantly. Doctors are negligent, hospitals corrupt, and the system uncaring. Later enquiries rarely matter, perception damage is immediate and irreversible.
For some, these videos are not about awareness—they are about virality and monetisation. Every hospital scuffle becomes a trending topic. Every tragedy turns into content. This reckless amplification is corroding public trust faster than ever.
The empathy gap
On the other side of this tragedy is a reality the medical community cannot escape. All persons wearing a white coat do not represent the compassion the profession requires. Patients and attendants come to hospitals with hope after having tried everything else. To them, the doctor is not only a professional but a lifeline. A rough word, a uninterested glance, or perceived neglect can be perceived as betrayal.
It was not always like this. In the turbulent times in the Kashmir Valley, when hundreds of attendants used to accompany patients, doctors were largely responded with gratitude and respect. Why has this changed?
The answer lies beyond hospital walls. Kashmir and its population have witnessed decades of deprivation and uncertainty. Behavioural changes do not happen overnight—they accumulate. People have just lost patience, turning negotiations into confrontations.
The Way Forward
Assaulting doctors is not about medicine alone—it reflects a deeper psychological exhaustion. Unfortunately, it solves nothing. In fact, it drives the healthcare system closer to collapse.
At the same time, doctors must also be sensitised to patient handling. Overcrowded hospitals and exhausted staff cannot excuse indifference. Communication, even in crisis, matters.
Security is essential, but it must go beyond uniforms and sticks. We need a multi-pronged approach.
Complaint redressal: Speedy mechanisms for complaints and accountability.
Training: Medics, particularly in emergency departments, require crisis communication skills.
Public awareness: Communities must be educated about hospital limitations and medical realities.
Responsible media: Ethical standards must be enforced—even in the digital space.
The bottom line
Doctors have every right to feel safe. No professional should fear assault at work. But security alone cannot rebuild trust. More guards and cameras may prevent the next slap—but they won’t mend the disconnect between patients and doctors.
This is not just a hospital problem. It is a societal problem. Our ability to absorb stress has plummeted. Until we address that, incidents like SMHS will repeat.
My sympathies remain with those who have lost loved ones. But grief cannot become a licence for violence. Assaulting medics is not justice—it is an indictment of us all. If we fail to restore trust, hospitals—the last refuge in times of crisis—risk becoming battlefields of rage.
Author is Sub-Editor at Greater Kashmir