Criminals in Punjab do not have the fear of law that they should
In Punjab, where the line between governance and disorder has grown dangerously thin, Governor Gulab Chand Kataria delivered a public reckoning on Saturday: the state's criminals have ceased to fear the law. Speaking at a Border Security Force training center, his words arrived one day after an AAP legislator was shot dead outside a gurdwara in Amritsar — a killing that crystallized, for many, the cost of a deterrence that no longer deters. The Governor's warning was not merely political; it was a meditation on what happens when institutions lose the authority that gives them meaning.
- The assassination of a ruling AAP legislator outside a sacred site in Amritsar has sharpened a crisis that can no longer be managed with reassurances.
- Governor Kataria declared openly that gangsters operate without fear of consequence — a daily rhythm of organized violence that signals a collapse in the state's most fundamental obligation.
- The ruling AAP government now faces a dual assault: street-level gang violence from within, and a cross-border flow of weapons and narcotics arriving by drone from Pakistan.
- Anti-drone systems are being rushed to the 563-kilometer Pakistan frontier — ten deployed initially, twenty-three more added after the Governor's direct appeal to the central government — but coverage remains incomplete.
- Kataria has taken to the streets himself, marching against the drug trade and calling for a societal movement rather than a narrow bureaucratic campaign.
- Even as 447 newly trained women constables were inducted into the BSF — a symbol of institutional renewal — the ceremony unfolded against a backdrop of institutional failure that no passing-out parade could obscure.
Punjab's Governor Gulab Chand Kataria stood before reporters on Saturday and delivered a blunt verdict: the state's criminals had stopped fearing the law. Speaking at a Border Security Force training center in Kharkan Camp, he publicly indicted the ruling AAP government's command over public order, describing gangsters operating with impunity and pursuing vengeance without restraint. His timing was deliberate — a day earlier, an AAP legislator had been shot dead outside a gurdwara in Amritsar by two gunmen, the latest in a sequence of killings raising urgent questions about whether the state could protect even its own elected officials.
Kataria framed the crisis as systemic rather than episodic. Organized crime incidents were occurring daily, he said, and the state had lost the capacity to make wrongdoing costly enough to discourage it. He argued that the government's anti-drug efforts were too narrow — confined to isolated officials and initiatives rather than embedded in a broader social commitment. He had already marched through border districts in protest against the drug trade and planned another four-day march, acknowledging that results were uncertain but insisting that sustained effort was the only credible response.
The cross-border dimension compounded the picture. Weapons and narcotics were flowing in from Pakistan by drone, and anti-drone systems were being installed along the frontier. Ten systems had been deployed in the first phase; following Kataria's appeal to the central government, twenty-three more were added, with Punjab contributing ten crore rupees to the effort. Still, the Governor was clear: the entire 563-kilometer border needed coverage, and the work was far from finished.
The remarks were delivered during a passing-out ceremony for 447 newly trained women constables entering the BSF — a moment of institutional renewal that sat in uncomfortable contrast with the institutional failure surrounding it. Kataria congratulated the new officers and urged them toward devotion and integrity. The juxtaposition was not lost on those present: fresh recruits taking their oath on the same day their state's capacity to keep order was being publicly questioned.
Punjab's Governor stood before reporters on Saturday with a stark assessment: the state's criminals had stopped fearing the law. Gulab Chand Kataria's words, delivered at a Border Security Force training center in Kharkan Camp, amounted to a public indictment of the ruling AAP government's grip on order. Gangsters were operating with impunity, he said, willing to pursue vengeance against rivals without restraint. The timing of his remarks was pointed. A day earlier, an AAP legislator had been shot dead outside a gurdwara in Amritsar by two gunmen—the latest in a sequence of killings that had drawn sharp criticism from the opposition and raised questions about the state's ability to protect even its own elected officials.
Kataria's diagnosis went beyond the immediate violence. He framed the problem as systemic: criminals lacked the fundamental deterrent that law enforcement should provide. Incidents involving organized crime were occurring daily, he told the assembled press. The state, in his view, had lost control of a basic function—the ability to make wrongdoing costly enough that people would think twice. He did not mince words about what needed to change. The government's anti-drug campaign, he suggested, was too narrow in scope. Such efforts could not remain confined to a handful of officials or isolated initiatives. They needed to become a mass movement, a shared commitment across society.
Kataria himself had walked the streets in protest against the drug trade and planned another four-day march through three border districts. He acknowledged the uncertainty inherent in such work—results were difficult to predict—but insisted that sustained, sincere effort was the only path forward. The Governor was not content to diagnose the problem from a distance.
His remarks extended to the cross-border dimension of Punjab's security challenge. Weapons and narcotics were flowing in from Pakistan, often by drone. The state had begun installing anti-drone systems along the international frontier. In the first phase, ten such systems were deployed. Following Kataria's request, the central government added twenty-three more. The Punjab government itself contributed ten crore rupees to the effort. Yet even this represented an incomplete solution. The state's border with Pakistan stretches 563 kilometers. Kataria's position was clear: the entire length needed to be covered with the technology to detect and disable incoming drones.
The Governor's remarks came during his attendance at a passing-out ceremony for women constables at the BSF training center. Four hundred forty-seven women had completed their training and were being inducted into the force. Kataria congratulated them, telling the new officers that their commitment demonstrated the nation remained in capable hands. He urged them to serve with devotion, integrity, and complete commitment. It was a moment of institutional renewal—new personnel entering the ranks—set against a backdrop of institutional failure. The contrast was not lost on anyone present.
Citações Notáveis
Criminals in Punjab do not have the fear of law that they should— Governor Gulab Chand Kataria
Efforts must not remain restricted to a few individuals; the drive should be converted into a mass movement— Governor Kataria, on the state's anti-drug campaign
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
When the Governor says criminals no longer fear the law, what does that actually mean on the ground in Punjab?
It means someone can shoot a legislator outside a place of worship and the system hasn't created enough friction to stop it. Fear of law isn't abstract—it's the calculation a person makes before acting. If that calculation has shifted, it's because the consequences feel distant or negotiable.
Is this a new problem or has it been building?
The Governor's language suggests it's accelerating. He's talking about daily incidents, which implies a threshold has been crossed. Whether it's truly new or just now visible depends on what was happening before, but the tone is alarm.
What does a four-day march accomplish against organized crime?
Symbolically, it shows the state hasn't surrendered. Practically, it's modest—one person walking through three districts. But it signals that someone in power is taking the problem seriously enough to be visible about it. That matters in places where visibility itself has become scarce.
The anti-drone systems seem like a technical fix to a human problem.
They are. But cross-border smuggling is a logistics problem, and logistics can be disrupted with the right tools. The human problem—why people join gangs, why they seek revenge—that's harder. The drones are the easier half of the equation.
Why mention the women constables in the same breath as all this failure?
Because institutions need continuity. You induct new officers even when the system is broken. It's an act of faith that things can improve, that the next generation of police will inherit a better situation than the current one.