In Punjab, the question of who gets protection and why has increasingly become a subject of public debate. From politicians and self-styled godmen to influential social workers, the allocation of state protection often reflects not just security needs, but also power equations, political convenience, and social influence. While security is meant to safeguard lives, in many cases it appears to have evolved into a symbol of status and authority, raising concerns about fairness and misuse of public resources.
At the political level, leaders across party lines—from the Indian National Congress to the Shiromani Akali Dal and the Aam Aadmi Party—have historically enjoyed extensive security cover. While genuine threats do exist, particularly given Punjab’s complex history of militancy and political violence, the expansion of VIP security often goes beyond necessity. Security categories such as Z+, Z, and Y are sometimes granted not purely on intelligence inputs, but influenced by political loyalty, proximity to power, or electoral considerations. This creates an environment where protection becomes a privilege of office rather than a matter of risk assessment.
Parallel to politicians, Punjab has witnessed the rise of powerful religious figures and dera heads who command massive followings. Many of these figures, often referred to as “Babas,” wield significant social and political influence. Their support can sway elections, making them valuable allies for political parties. As a result, several such individuals receive state-sponsored security, even when their activities are controversial or under scrutiny. The blurred line between religious leadership and political bargaining raises serious questions about accountability and the appropriate use of taxpayer-funded resources.
Another layer in this system involves so-called social workers and local influencers who, through connections with ruling elites, manage to secure police protection. While some may genuinely face threats due to activism or public work, others appear to benefit from personal networks rather than actual danger. In certain cases, individuals with criminal allegations or questionable reputations have also been seen moving with armed escorts, sending a troubling message about the normalization of power without responsibility.
The burden of this system ultimately falls on the public. Punjab Police, already stretched with law-and-order duties, is often deployed for VIP security, reducing its effectiveness in serving ordinary citizens. When dozens of personnel are assigned to protect one individual, it raises a fundamental question: who protects the common man? The perception that safety is disproportionately allocated to the powerful erodes public trust in institutions.
There is also a psychological dimension to this phenomenon. In Punjab’s socio-political culture, visible security—convoys, gunmen, and sirens—has become a marker of prestige. For many, it signals importance and influence, reinforcing a cycle where individuals actively seek protection not just for safety, but for status enhancement. This culture risks glorifying inequality and distancing leaders from the people they represent.
Reforming this system requires transparent criteria and periodic review of all security allocations. Threat perception must be assessed independently by professional agencies, free from political interference. Additionally, there should be public accountability regarding how many personnel are deployed, at what cost, and for whom. Only then can the balance between genuine security needs and misuse of power be restored.
In the end, Punjab faces a crucial choice: whether security remains a tool of governance and public safety, or continues to function as a badge of privilege for the powerful. The answer will define not just administrative priorities, but the very nature of justice and equality in the state.