Indian policing system stands between Sweden and 'Banana Republic'. A lot needs to be corrected by Indian police itself.

QUICK READ

• Custodial deaths in India are not isolated incidents but a recurring pattern.
  The article reasons that deaths in police and judicial custody have become normalised, with multiple high-profile cases and consistently high annual numbers pointing to a systemic problem rather than rare misconduct.

• The roots of the problem lie in India’s colonial policing model.
  Indian policing was originally designed under the 1861 Police Act to control populations, not serve citizens. According to the article, this coercive institutional culture has largely survived independence.

• Constitutional safeguards exist, but accountability is weak.
  Although Article 21, court rulings, CCTV directives, and Police Complaints Authorities are meant to protect detainees, implementation is patchy, torture is not clearly criminalised in a standalone law, and convictions remain rare.

• Custodial violence persists because it is socially and institutionally incentivised.
  The piece argues that pressure for quick results, weak investigations, slow courts, and public tolerance of “instant justice” make coercion seem like an effective shortcut for police.

• The solution requires both legal reform and cultural change.
  The article calls for stronger independent oversight, ratification of the UN Convention Against Torture, rights-based policing, better legal aid, and a shift away from rewarding force toward rewarding lawful, accountable policing.

For more read the full article ..... 

MAY 2026

When Tragedy Becomes a Pattern

Today, we are challenging an institutional practice in India that has become so deeply embedded in public life that it often escapes serious scrutiny. 

Custodial violence and death have become so normalised that many citizens view it as an unfortunate but unavoidable feature of policing. 

Yet such acceptance comes at a profound cost. It weakens the constitutional foundations of Indian republic and corrodes public faith in the rule of law.

The evidence is difficult to dismiss.

In Sivaganga district of Tamil Nadu, 27-year-old Ajith Kumar, a temple security guard, died within a day of being detained in a robbery case that the Central Bureau of Investigation later found to be entirely baseless. 

His post-mortem reportedly documented nearly 40 injuries.

Likewise, in 2020, P. Jeyaraj and his son Benicks died after alleged custodial torture following a minor lockdown violation during COVID-19 pandemic. 

The brutality of the case shocked the nation and eventually resulted in the rare sentencing of nine policemen to death.

At first glance, these incidents may appear unrelated. However, viewed collectively, they reveal a disturbing pattern. 

The details differ, but the underlying reality remains the same. Coercive violence continues to function as a routine instrument of policing.

The statistical record reinforces this conclusion.

Civil society estimates recorded 1,731 custodial deaths in 2019, equivalent to nearly five deaths every day. 

Subsequently, 1,995 prisoners died in judicial custody in 2022, including 159 deaths categorised as unnatural. 

Furthermore, National Human Rights Commission data recorded approximately 2,400 custodial deaths in 2023, rising further to 2,739 in 2024. 

Between 2025 and mid-March 2026 alone, another 170 custodial deaths were officially recorded.

These figures are significant not merely because of their scale but because of their persistence. A temporary spike can be explained away as an anomaly. 

A sustained pattern spanning years cannot.

More importantly, the distribution of these deaths is far from random. States such as Bihar, Rajasthan, Madhya Pradesh and Uttar Pradesh, other states, repeatedly record high numbers of custodial fatalities. 

“ The answer lies not merely in individual misconduct but in institutional design.

Simultaneously, victims disproportionately come from vulnerable social groups, including Dalits, Adivasis, Muslims and migrant labourers.

Consequently, custodial violence often mirrors India's existing social hierarchies rather than challenging them. The coercive power of the state falls most heavily upon those least equipped to resist it.

Against this backdrop, a larger question emerges. 

Why does custodial violence continue despite constitutional safeguards, judicial interventions and periodic public outrage?

The answer lies not merely in individual misconduct but in institutional design.

The Colonial DNA of Indian Policing

To understand the persistence of custodial violence, one must first understand the origins of Indian policing.

The modern police system was shaped by the Police Act of 1861, enacted in the aftermath of the Revolt of 1857. The objective was not citizen service. Rather, it was imperial control. The colonial administration required a force capable of disciplining populations, suppressing dissent and ensuring compliance.

Consequently, the police were designed not as guardians of citizens but as instruments of state authority.

Independence from colonial rule in 1947 transformed the political structure of India. 

However, it did not fundamentally transform the architecture of policing. The uniforms changed, the government changed and the Constitution changed. Yet the command structure, institutional culture and coercive orientation largely survived.

To its credit, independent India attempted to place constitutional safeguards around this inherited system.

Article 21 guarantees the right to life and personal liberty. Judicial interventions, ranging from D.K. Basu versus State of West Bengal to the Supreme Court's CCTV directives of 2020, have repeatedly sought to regulate police conduct.

Yet implementation remains deeply uneven.

Thousands of police stations continue to operate without adequate surveillance infrastructure. Even where cameras exist, coverage is often incomplete and digital storage facilities remain inadequate. 

Likewise, the Supreme Court's 2006 directive requiring independent Police Complaints Authorities remains only partially implemented across several states.

As a result, accountability frequently remains more theoretical than real.

The problem is compounded by another significant gap. 

India still lacks a comprehensive standalone law criminalising torture.

Instead, allegations are pursued through broader criminal provisions. Consequently, torture is often hidden within larger categories of assault, culpable homicide or custodial misconduct. 

This legal ambiguity weakens deterrence of criminals and complicates prosecution.

“  accountability frequently remains more theoretical than real.

Meanwhile, witness protection remains fragile. Victims' families frequently encounter intimidation, procedural delays and financial hardship. 

Unsurprisingly, conviction rates remain low.

The result is a culture of impunity in which accountability appears exceptional rather than routine.

Not surprisingly, this growing gap between constitutional ideals and lived reality has attracted international attention.

The Global Torture Index now categorises India as a high-risk country for torture and ill-treatment. 

Furthermore, United Nations Special Rapporteurs have invoked the doctrine of jus cogens, which treats the prohibition of torture as an absolute norm of international law.

The doctrine of jus cogens (Latin for "compelling law") refers to fundamental, universally accepted principles of international law that are binding on all states regardless of their consent. Also known as "peremptory norms," these rules sit at the very top of the international legal hierarchy, meaning no derogation, treaty, or conflicting custom is permitted. 

Yet India has still not ratified the Convention Against Torture.

Consequently, the distance between India's democratic aspirations and its policing practices has become increasingly difficult to ignore.

Why Custodial Violence Becomes Normalised

However, institutional weaknesses alone do not fully explain the problem.

The deeper question is why custodial violence often appears socially tolerated despite repeated exposure.

A useful philosophical framework comes from Thomas Hobbes. Hobbes reasoned that individuals surrender certain freedoms to the state in exchange for security. The legitimacy of the sovereign, therefore, rests upon its ability to protect life and maintain order.

Yet Hobbes also assumed limits to which the state can go. 

If the state itself becomes a source of arbitrary violence, the social contract begins to fray.

Viewed through this point of view, custodial deaths reveal not the absence of state power but its excess. The issue is not weakness. It is power operating without meaningful restraint.

The operational logic of Indian policing reinforces this tendency.

Police officers are expected to deliver quick results in an environment characterised by understaffing, delayed investigations and overburdened courts. 

Consequently, torture often emerges as a shortcut. It accelerates confessions, closes cases and creates an appearance of efficiency.

Similarly, so-called "encounters", often criticised as extrajudicial killings, bypass lengthy judicial processes altogether.

Indeed, in several states, officers associated with encounters have received public admiration, media attention and professional advancement. As a result, incentives become aligned not with due process but with demonstrable outcomes.

This dynamic extends beyond police stations.

“ torture often emerges as a shortcut. It accelerates confessions, closes cases and creates an appearance of efficiency.

During the Covid-19 lockdown, reports emerged from Delhi, Noida and several other cities documenting the assault of vegetable vendors, delivery workers and ordinary citizens. 

Videos showed people being forced to crawl on roads, publicly humiliated and physically assaulted.

Importantly, these individuals were not hardened criminals. Many were providing only essential services.

Yet the justification remained the same. Enforcement required discipline. Discipline required coercion.

The underlying message was unmistakable. Citizens were treated less as rights-bearing individuals and more as subjects expected to obey authority.

In that sense, the shadow of colonial policing continues to linger in contemporary India.

Between Sweden and the Banana Republic

The international comparison is revealing.

In Sweden, custodial deaths are exceptionally rare. When they occur, they typically involve medical emergencies or suicide and automatically trigger independent investigations. 

Police training prioritises de-escalation, negotiation and proportionality. Consequently, public trust in law enforcement remains among the highest in the world.

Germany presents a similar picture.

Although Germany possesses a larger and more complex policing apparatus, custodial deaths remain infrequent and subject to rigorous scrutiny. Coercive interrogation is explicitly prohibited. 

The use of force is tightly regulated, and violations frequently result in severe professional consequences.

Therefore, accountability is systemic rather than episodic.

The distinction is not primarily economic. It is institutional and cultural.

In both countries, legality takes precedence over suitability.

At the opposite end of the spectrum lie what are commonly described as banana republics, states where institutions are weak, accountability is selective and coercive power is highly personalised.

In such systems, police violence ceases to be an aberration. 

Instead, it becomes an instrument of governance. Extrajudicial killings are justified in the name of efficiency, public order or national security. Consequently, public trust declines and legality becomes increasingly conditional.

India does not fit neatly into either category.

On the one hand, it possesses an independent judiciary, a robust Constitution and a vibrant civil society. On the other hand, persistent custodial violence reflects characteristics commonly associated with weaker institutional orders.

“ Custodial violence undermines the legitimacy of the criminal justice system itself.

The result is a troubling hybrid condition, democratic in design but often coercive in practice.

The consequences extend far beyond individual victims.

Custodial violence undermines the legitimacy of the criminal justice system itself. Confessions extracted through coercion compromise investigations. Innocent people suffer. Actual offenders may escape accountability. 

Most importantly, public trust steadily erodes.

The impact is especially severe among historically marginalised communities, further deepening cycles of alienation and exclusion.

The Solution

The policy solutions are hardly unknown. Foremost, India must strengthen the ‘Police Complaints Authority’ (PCA) network across states, established by Supreme Court of India in 2006. For now, this authority is considered as ‘lame duck’.

Ratifying the UN Convention Against Torture would establish a stronger legal framework. Implementing the Méndez Principles would encourage evidence-based interrogation practices. 

Strengthening the National Human Rights Commission and ensuring genuinely independent oversight mechanisms would improve accountability.

However, legislation alone will not solve the problem.

Equally important is the need to alter incentives.

• Promotions should reward lawful conduct rather than mere case closure rates. 

• Training should emphasise rights-based policing. 

• Judicial processes should become faster and more accessible. 

• Legal aid systems should be strengthened to protect vulnerable citizens.

Ultimately, the challenge is cultural as much as institutional.

For decades, sections of society have accepted the idea that coercion is an acceptable route to justice. 

Yet effective policing is not measured by the fear it generates but by the trust it commands.

This brings us back to Akash Delison. On 8 March, this 26-year-old man, died in a hospital in Tamil Nadu, allegedly from injuries sustained in police custody. 

“  legislation alone will not solve the problem.

Akash Delison, a Scheduled Caste youth, and another individual, Guna, of Krishnarajapuram area of Manamadurai, were arrested by police on the night of March 5 in connection with a case involving hacking of two labourers.

Months after his death, his family refused to perform his last rites until accountability was established. In doing so, they transformed personal grief into a moral challenge directed at the state itself.

Their refusal asks a fundamental question.

Is it a case of instant justice by-passing the lengthy judicial process, in name of efficiency?

Is power in India disciplined by law, or is it increasingly liberated from it?

The answer will determine not only the fate of those who enter police custody but also the character of the republic itself.

A state that cannot protect the dignity of those it detains risks undermining the very foundation of its authority. 

The lesson from advanced democracies is not that abuse becomes impossible, but that it is institutionally constrained. Conversely, the lesson from weaker states is that once coercion becomes normal, reversing it becomes extraordinarily difficult.

India today stands between these two trajectories.

The choice is neither theoretical nor distant. 

It is written repeatedly in morgues, courtrooms and police stations across the country, and in the quiet refusal of families who continue to demand justice before closure.