Good on paper. Dangerous at home? The myth of the 'good man'

We are taught to judge men by their credentials. A government job. A uniform. A respected profession. A stable income. These are often seen as markers of not just success, but character. The alleged killing of a woman by her Delhi Police constable husband is a grim reminder that professional standing and personal conduct are not the same. Respectability is not integrity, and authority is no guarantee of safety.

It challenges a belief deeply embedded in Indian society: that respectability can be measured by a profession, a designation or a government job.

For generations, families have treated certain professions as guarantees of stability and security in marriage. A police officer, an IAS officer, a doctor, a lawyer, an army officer—these are often described as "good matches", not only because of financial security but because they are presumed to reflect integrity, discipline and character.

Matrimonial advertisements continue to reinforce this hierarchy of respectability, where occupation becomes shorthand for virtue. But a profession can certify competence. It cannot certify character. The Delhi case is a grim reminder of that distinction.

A man entrusted with enforcing the law now stands accused of committing one of its gravest violations within his own family. Whether the allegations are ultimately proved in court will be determined through the legal process.

But the broader question remains: why do we continue to equate public status with private conduct? This is not the first time public office has collided with allegations of domestic abuse. In 2020, senior IPS officer Purushottam Sharma was suspended after a video allegedly showing him assaulting his wife surfaced publicly, prompting departmental action and intervention by the Madhya Pradesh State Women's Commission.

More recently, the death of Bhopal woman Twisha Sharma led to the arrest of her advocate husband and other family members on dowry death charges, while the Bar Council of India suspended his licence pending investigation.

The facts of these cases differ, and each must be judged on its own merits. But together, they expose the same flawed assumption—that education, professional standing or institutional authority somehow makes violence less likely.

The evidence suggests otherwise. According to the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB), cruelty by husband or his relatives continues to account for one of the largest categories of crimes against women registered in India every year.

Domestic violence is not confined to any one class, profession, religion or income group. It exists in affluent homes and modest ones, among the highly educated and the illiterate, within households headed by labourers and those headed by public servants.

Yet public reactions to such cases often reveal a persistent bias. "He was a police officer." "He was a lawyer." "He came from a respected family." These observations are usually expressions of disbelief—as though social standing should have made the crime unimaginable.

In reality, they expose how readily society confuses reputation with morality. Institutions, too, have a responsibility to confront this misconception. When allegations involve police personnel or other public officials, accountability cannot stop at registering a criminal case.

Internal disciplinary mechanisms, transparent inquiries and prompt action are equally important—not because those accused deserve harsher treatment, but because institutions entrusted with public confidence cannot appear indifferent when their own members face serious allegations.

The lesson from such tragedies is not that certain professions produce violent men. It is that violence does not spare any profession.

A badge can command authority. A title can command respect. A reputation can command admiration. None of them can guarantee that a woman will be safe behind her own front door.