When Dr Rudresh Kuttikar was publicly suspended by Goa Health Minister Vishwajit Rane in the casualty ward of Goa Medical College (GMC), cameras captured more than just a ministerial reprimand. It captured a turning point in the growing normalisation of political interference in clinical spaces.
Though Chief Minister Pramod Sawant overturned the suspension within 24 hours, citing the need to uphold due process, the impact was immediate and far-reaching. For medical professionals across the country, the incident struck a deeply personal chord.
“This could be any of us,” said Dr Rachana, a private practitioner from Goa, speaking to EdexLive. “What happened at GMC is not just about one doctor. It’s about a growing culture where clinical decisions are no longer shielded from political interference or populism. Doctors are expected to heal, but we’re also now forced to defend evidence-based treatment from viral outrage.”
Dr Rachana’s voice echoes a sentiment shared by many across Goa’s medical community, that a line has been crossed, not just in terms of protocol, but in how the public perceives the role of doctors and the pressures they silently shoulder.
“Patients today come not only with symptoms, but with fixed opinions shaped by influencers, politicians, and WhatsApp forwards,” she says. “And when those demands clash with protocol, it’s the doctor who becomes the villain.”
At GMC, the consequences were immediate. While the viral video may have satisfied a fleeting sense of accountability for some, it also emboldened miscreants to reportedly threaten other doctors in the same hospital, creating an atmosphere of fear and tension.
For Ayush Sharma, President of the Goa Association of Resident Doctors (GARD), the worry goes beyond one incident. “The protest isn’t symbolic, it’s a stand for the dignity of the profession,” he says in an interview with Prudent Media. “But let me be clear: even as we protest, every doctor has reported to duty. No elective or emergency service has been compromised. We won’t abandon our patients. But we won’t stay silent either.”
GARD had issued a 48-hour ultimatum demanding an apology and safeguards against political intrusion. If unmet, they warned, an indefinite strike could follow, though Sharma stresses that any escalation will still prioritise patient care.
“We’re not asking for special treatment,” he says. “We’re asking for a basic, non-negotiable: let us do our jobs without fear of being filmed, humiliated, or suspended without inquiry.”
Adding to the growing resentment is the minister’s attempt to issue an apology via social media, a gesture many in the medical community view as grossly inadequate.
“You cannot humiliate a doctor in front of patients, cameras, and hospital staff, then try to undo the damage with a captioned post,” Dr Rudresh Kuttikar told ANI. “The apology must be as public as the humiliation, and in the same casualty ward where it happened. Only then can it begin to restore some measure of trust.”
For young doctors, especially those in training, the psychological fallout is profound. “It’s deeply disheartening,” Dr Rachana admits. “If a senior doctor with years of experience can be publicly insulted like this, what message does that send to those just entering the field? That you’re expendable, no matter how right you are?”
Even in Goa, known for its robust healthcare infrastructure and flourishing medical tourism industry, the divide between public and private hospitals has become starker.
While private institutions remain somewhat insulated from political overreach, public doctors work under intense pressure, often without the protection or respect their roles demand.
The broader fear now is that such incidents, if left unchecked, will further intensify the exodus of medical talent from the country. “Doctors are already leaving in droves for countries that offer not just better pay, but dignity,” says Rachana. “When a doctor fears being filmed in the ER instead of focusing on saving a life, something has gone horribly wrong.”
The reinstatement of Dr Kuttikar may have corrected an administrative wrong, but it has not resolved the deeper wounds it opened.
For many in India’s medical fraternity, the real damage lies in what the incident revealed, a system where protocol can be trumped by political interference, and where the people entrusted with saving lives are forced to defend their right to do so.
