Bhaskar Rao’s public fall: when a policeman forgets the meaning of discipline

 

When a man who once wore the uniform of Bengaluru’s top cop chooses to praise a lawyer for throwing footwear at the Chief Justice of India, the irony could not be starker. Bhaskar Rao’s recent statement — “Even if it is legally and terribly wrong, I admire your courage” — is not merely irresponsible; it is deeply corrosive to the very idea of law and institutional respect that the police service stands for.

By backing the unruly conduct of an advocate inside the Supreme Court, Rao crossed the boundary between dissent and disorder. He may have imagined himself to be applauding moral courage, but what he effectively celebrated was contempt — contempt for judicial decorum, for the sanctity of the courtroom, and for the principle that disagreements must remain within the bounds of law. A man who once represented the enforcement arm of the state has now chosen to romanticize defiance against its highest legal institution.

Rao’s defenders may argue that he is “ebullient” by nature — outspoken, energetic, incapable of measured restraint. Yet that very ebullience, when unchecked by wisdom or responsibility, turns into recklessness. The quality that may make him an engaging orator renders him a poor custodian of institutional discipline. This is not the first time he has erred in judgment. Even during his tenure as Bengaluru Police Commissioner, Rao was known for issuing controversial remarks — on protests, political leaders, and internal police matters — which frequently embarrassed the department. His premature exit from service was not a sudden act of fate; it was the cumulative outcome of a temperament unwilling to obey law both in word and spirit.

Rao’s public persona since joining politics has further eroded his credibility. From offering to seek the support of a known history-sheeter for electoral advantage to making volatile comments against the Chief Minister and the Home Minister during the Bengaluru stampede episode, his record reveals a troubling inconsistency: a former enforcer of law who now thrives on defiance. This may please partisan crowds, but it damages the moral fabric of public discourse.

In supporting the shoe-throwing lawyer, Rao has shown that his admiration lies not with the rule of law, but with the spectacle of rebellion. Such statements from a former police commissioner do not merely reflect poor personal judgment — they weaken public trust in institutions. The police, the courts, and the legislature exist in a delicate balance; when those who once upheld that balance choose to mock it, cynicism replaces respect.

Ultimately, Rao’s comment is a symptom of a deeper malaise — the political reward for audacity over accountability. The country can afford many politicians with loose tongues, but it cannot afford lawmen who forget the discipline they once swore to protect. In Bhaskar Rao’s journey from khaki to khadi, something fundamental has been lost: the quiet dignity of service to the law. The state government should explore means to prosecute Rao for trying to spread anarchy by backing unlawful activity.