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Alright, let’s address the elephant in the room. It should be shocking but, unfortunately, isn’t. There IS violence and abuse against healthcare workers in Sri Lanka. It’s BAD. It’s REALLY BAD!. And yet, no one seems to be freaking out about it the way they should. Doctors, nurses, and medical trainees—the people literally keeping the healthcare system afloat—are being sexually harassed, beaten, and in some cases, even murdered. And the world just… moves on? Nah. We need to talk about this.
Let’s start with the numbers because, trust me, they’ll make your blood boil. A 2015 study by the Indian Medical Association found that 75% of doctors in India had faced workplace violence. Seventy-five percent. That’s basically saying if you’re a doctor, you’ll almost definitely deal with some form of abuse. And if you think it’s just an occasional bad apple situation, think again—12% of them had been physically attacked. Physically. Attacked.
And let’s not pretend this is just some “minor inconvenience.” In Karnataka, 48.02% of physicians in tertiary care centers reported experiencing violence. If you specialize in OB-GYN, good luck—43.2% of those doctors reported violence, followed by surgery (23.6%) and medicine (22.8%). Basically, if your job requires making high-stakes decisions or dealing with emergencies, you’re a prime target. And what’s the reward for all this hard work? Assault.
And it’s not just punches and slaps. We’re talking verbal abuse, threats, intimidation, and sexual harassment. In Sri Lanka, sexual misconduct in the medical profession is a serious issue, with patients, colleagues, and trainees all being victimized. The Sri Lankan Penal Code (Section 345) technically criminalizes sexual harassment. But, let’s be real—laws that aren’t enforced are just words on paper. And with how many incidents go unreported? only a few face time.
Want to know where this happens the most? Government hospitals. 63.5% of violence against doctors happens there, while teaching hospitals and private hospitals have lower rates (26.9% and 9.6%, respectively). So basically, if you’re a doctor trying to serve in a public hospital where resources are already stretched thin, your reward is a higher chance of getting assaulted.
If you’re wondering how things got this bad, let’s break it down. First, let’s talk about the absolute horror story that was the case of the female postgraduate trainee in Kolkata. She was raped and murdered while on a night shift at R.G. Kar Medical College and Hospital. Read that again. A DOCTOR. WAS. MURDERED. IN. HER. HOSPITAL. You’d think an incident this horrifying would lead to some major safety overhauls, right? Nope. Just a couple of news cycles pass. Then there is another case in Sri Lanka. A doctor gets sexually assaulted by a man threatening her with a knife.
Night shifts are an absolute nightmare for safety. Hospitals at night? Understaffed. Barely any security. Poor lighting. Isolated areas everywhere. The Kolkata case showed just how easy it is for these places to become crime scenes. And, let’s not even talk about hospital-provided accommodations. The housing for junior doctors and trainees? Horrifically unsafe. No proper locks, no surveillance, and absolutely no guarantee that you’re safe in your own room.
And this isn’t just an inconvenience—it’s a life-threatening problem. Secluded stairwells, dark corridors, isolated seminar halls—these aren’t just “bad workplace conditions.” They’re invitations for tragedy. Sri Lanka faces a shortage of nearly 5,000 doctors. The ones still there are overworked. They are exhausted. They are constantly at risk.
It wasn’t always like this. Doctors used to be respected. What happened?
Well, for one, the media has completely trashed the reputation of healthcare professionals. News outlets love a good scandal. They focus on medical errors and corruption. Yet, they blow up every mistake while ignoring the actual problem. The problem is underfunded, understaffed hospitals with overworked doctors. Meanwhile, systemic failures are the government’s fault. These failures get blamed on the very people trying to hold things together.
And then there’s social media. Just ask Dr. Cyriac Aby Philips, an Indian doctor who called out alternative medicine scams. His reward? A court-ordered social media suspension. So not only are doctors dealing with physical violence, but they’re also getting legally punished for telling the truth.
Now, let’s talk about money. Sri Lanka’s economic crisis has hit healthcare resources hard, making already stressed patients even angrier. Who do they take it out on? Doctors. Medical professionals are becoming the scapegoats for every systemic failure, and it’s leading to more and more violence.
If you were a doctor in Sri Lanka o, why would you stay? Spoiler alert: they’re not. The numbers are horrifying.
This is a disaster. When hospitals lose doctors, remaining staff get even more overworked, leading to burnout, lower-quality care, and angrier patients. And the cycle continues. Oh, and let’s not forget: 400 state hospitals are on the verge of closing. Medical centers are facing the same situation due to staff shortages. This isn’t a crisis waiting to happen—it’s already happening.
If you’re a woman in healthcare, congrats, you get an extra layer of BS.
Sexual harassment is rampant, and reporting it? Risky. Junior female doctors often stay silent about harassment from seniors because speaking up could end their careers. The abuse of power by proffessors is discussed in a separate article. Case in point: A female doctor at General Hospital, Ernakulam, took action. She filed a complaint against a senior for sexual assault. This occurred during her training. The fact that she even reported it is rare, but what happened after? That’s the real question.
And let’s not forget, night shifts are straight-up dangerous for women. The Kolkata murder case should have been the ultimate wake-up call. But here we are. We are still treating women’s safety in hospitals as an afterthought.
Protecting doctors, nurses, and hospital staff isn’t just the right thing to do—it’s necessary to keep hospitals running safely. But let’s be clear: We shouldn’t ignore the deeper issues that lead to violence. These include poor sexual education, sexual frustrations, and the lack of instilling basic values in people, like respecting women. These are larger societal problems. But, those are complicated and will take years to change. Right now, we need to focus on something more immediate—making sure healthcare workers are safe while they do their jobs. There are simple, practical steps that can protect them, and there’s no excuse for not putting them in place.
These solutions aren’t difficult, and they don’t need a huge budget. Things like panic buttons, better lighting, and clear security policies are easy to set up if the people in charge actually cared. And, the problem isn’t money either—it’s the lack of action. But, if safety was truly a priority, these changes would already be in place. Healthcare workers put their lives on the line every day for others. At least, we can make sure they don’t have to fear for their own safety while doing it.
Workplace violence in healthcare demands more than just security guards. It requires systemic changes that integrate technology. Facility design and policy reforms are also necessary. Not only that, these measures enhance safety and improve job satisfaction. They also reduce stress and help keep skilled professionals. This ultimately ensures uninterrupted patient care.
Compared to traditional security guards, surveillance systems, controlled access points, and architectural modifications offer long-term safety at a lower cost. Optimized staffing policies, like the buddy system, enhance security without significantly increasing labor expenses. Hospitals investing in these measures also face fewer legal liabilities, lower staff turnover, and reduced compensation claims.
Yet, implementation is not without challenges. Unions may resist staffing changes, fearing increased workload or job insecurity, while budget constraints in public hospitals could slow adoption. Security personnel might oppose a shift toward tech-driven solutions, requiring careful negotiations to balance safety improvements with workforce concerns.
Despite these hurdles, a multi-faceted approach to security offers greater efficacy and sustainability than relying solely on guards. By addressing both immediate threats and systemic vulnerabilities, these changes create safer environments for healthcare workers and better outcomes for all.
Creating a safer environment for healthcare workers isn’t just a policy decision—it’s a moral obligation. Every act of violence against a doctor, nurse, or hospital staff member isn’t just an attack on an individual; it’s a blow to the very system that keeps people alive.
Healthcare workers must break the silence. Every incident reported strengthens the fight for change. Staying quiet only allows the problem to persist. Speaking up—whether through official reports or professional associations—builds collective power, pushing for real protections and accountability.
Hospital administrators and leaders can’t just offer empty promises. They must act—assign funds for better security, enforce zero-tolerance policies on violence, and guarantee those who report threats are protected, not punished. Listening to frontline workers isn’t optional; it’s the only way to implement solutions that actually work.
Safety in healthcare is a shared responsibility. Every patient, every policymaker, and every hospital leader must step up. Because when those who save lives feel unsafe, the entire system suffers.
Doctors are being assaulted, harassed, and killed, and somehow this is just being accepted as part of the job. Meanwhile, governments do nothing, hospitals lack basic security, and doctors are leaving in droves. And at the end of the day, the patients are the ones who suffer most, because when all the good doctors are gone, who’s left to take care of them?
This is not normal. This is not okay. And if this cycle doesn’t stop, the future of healthcare in Sri Lanka looks beyond grim. We need outrage. We need change. Because if we don’t fix this now, soon, there won’t be any doctors left to fight for.
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