Photo Courtesy: Image by fernando zhiminaicela from Pixabay | For representational purpose only
Dr Kevilhounyii Linyii
President, Kohima Obstetrics and Gynecological Society of Nagaland (KOGSON)
A hospital is built on trust.
A patient trusts a doctor with life. A mother trusts a nurse with her newborn child. A family trusts a surgeon with someone they love. Without trust, medicine cannot exist.
Yet today that trust is under strain.
Across India, violence against healthcare workers has become an alarming reality. Doctors are assaulted in emergency rooms. Nurses are threatened in labour wards. Hospitals are vandalised. Women doctors and healthcare workers, who often work through the night and in isolated settings, face an even greater risk of intimidation, harassment and violence.
Nagaland has so far been spared the worst of this growing crisis. But no society is immune. The warning signs are visible. We should not wait for tragedy before we act. The first duty of every civilised society is to protect those who dedicate their lives to protecting ours.
Before we ask how to stop violence, however, we must first understand what is driving it.
Why Have We Become So Intolerant?
Perhaps the harder question is not why violence against doctors is increasing. The harder question is why we have all become so intolerant.
Patients have become impatient. Doctors have become hurried. Families often expect certainty where medicine can only offer probability. Doctors, burdened by long hours and growing demands, sometimes forget that every patient carries fear along with illness. Patients, weighed down by financial stress, grief and anxiety, sometimes forget that the doctor standing before them is also a human being.
Healthcare has also become expensive. For many families, one illness can erase years of savings. Financial stress breeds anxiety. Anxiety often becomes anger. When treatment fails despite every sincere effort, that anger seeks a face. The doctor at the bedside becomes the easiest target, even when the disease—not the doctor—is responsible.
This emotional pressure does not arise in isolation. It is reinforced by a wider social change.
We live in an age that celebrates material success above all else. Wealth is admired. Power is envied. Speed is rewarded. Yet the virtues that once held society together—love, compassion, forgiveness, patience, humility and the simple desire to help another human being—are quietly fading into the background.
When success is measured only by money, relationships become transactions. Healthcare is seen as a service that must guarantee results rather than a partnership built on trust. The doctor is reduced to a provider and the patient to a consumer. When expectations are not met, disappointment quickly turns into blame, and blame too often turns into anger.
This culture is further intensified by social media.
Social media has given every individual a powerful voice, which can be a force for accountability, but also for instant judgment. A single video, often stripped of context, can spread across the country within minutes. Outrage travels faster than truth. It is easy to expose another person's mistake before asking whether we ourselves have shown understanding. We are quick to judge and slow to forgive. We demand perfection from others while accepting imperfection in ourselves.
Violence grows where understanding disappears.
The Human Reality Behind Medicine
Yet in the middle of this growing mistrust, one truth is often forgotten: doctors are not detached from the suffering they witness.
No doctor enters medicine hoping to lose a patient. Every loss leaves a scar. Every complication is discussed, analysed and remembered. Behind every white coat is a human being who carries disappointment, guilt and grief long after the hospital lights are switched off.
This burden is especially heavy in high-risk and emotionally charged areas of care.
Childbirth, for instance, is one of life's most joyful moments, yet also one of medicine's most unpredictable. Despite science, skill and experience, not every mother can be saved. Not every baby survives. These are painful realities of medicine, not failures of compassion.
Women healthcare workers carry an additional layer of vulnerability. They form the backbone of our health system. They work through the night, travel during unsafe hours and often care for patients in emotionally intense situations. They should never have to fear assault, harassment or intimidation while carrying out their duty.
Their safety is not a privilege. It is a fundamental right.
Rebuilding Trust on Both Sides
If violence is rooted in misunderstanding, then the solution must begin with rebuilding trust—not only through systems, but through society itself.
The answer to violence against doctors does not lie only in stronger laws or better hospital security, important though they are. It also lies in rebuilding the character of our society. We must teach our children that kindness is not weakness, that forgiveness is not defeat, and that compassion is not an outdated virtue. A society that celebrates only achievement will produce successful people. A society that also celebrates empathy will produce good human beings.
At the same time, doctors too must embrace this responsibility.
Technical excellence alone is not enough. Every patient deserves to be heard, respected and treated with dignity. Compassion remains one of the most powerful medicines we possess, and unlike any drug, it costs nothing.
We must also acknowledge the impact of commercialisation on public trust. The overwhelming majority of doctors remain deeply committed to service, often sacrificing their own time, comfort and family life. Yet whenever financial considerations appear to overshadow patient welfare, trust is weakened. Medicine was never meant to be merely a business. It is, above all, a calling rooted in service. The pursuit of excellence must always remain greater than the pursuit of profit.
The Role of the State and Society
While trust must be rebuilt socially and professionally, protection must also be ensured institutionally.
Governments must enforce laws that protect healthcare workers. Hospitals must strengthen security, establish rapid response systems and ensure that every act of violence is investigated swiftly and punished fairly. Justice delayed encourages violence; justice delivered restores confidence.
Nagaland has always valued community, dignity and mutual respect. These values must guide us now. Let us become a state where doctors feel safe to serve, nurses feel safe to work, and every woman healthcare worker knows she will return home unharmed.
A Shared Responsibility
Ultimately, the healing of healthcare will not come from one side alone. It will begin only when doctors and patients rediscover that they are not opponents across a table, but fellow human beings on the same side of suffering.
A society is judged not only by how it cares for its sick, but also by how it treats those who care for them.
Safety gives caregivers the confidence to serve. Respect gives them the strength to continue. Justice gives them the courage to return tomorrow.
Without these three pillars, no healthcare system can truly heal.
The hands that deliver our children, comfort our dying, and heal our sick should never have to defend themselves from the very people they serve.
