- Bedi was the first woman to enter the elite Indian Police Service in 1974. When she became deputy commissioner of police in Delhi’s West and North Districts, Bedi posted constables in blue-and-white “beat boxes” where citizens could consult them daily. She redirected former bootleggers to honest livelihoods by arranging friendly loans and assistance. Women’s peace committees, set up at her initiative, promoted neighborhood harmony. As community participation rose, crimes fell.
- In 1993 BEDI became inspector general of prisons in Delhi and took charge of Tihar, India’s largest prison complex housing 8,000 prisoners, 90 percent of whom were un-convicted and merely awaiting trial. Bedi introduced a positive regimen of work, study, and play for its inmates.
- The RMAF board of trustees recognizes “her building confidence in India’s police through dynamic leadership and effective innovations in crime control, drug rehabilitation, and humane prison reform.”
No social relationship in Asia is more fraught with ambiguity than that between the police and the people. Called upon to maintain order and public safety, and to manage the region’s paralyzing traffic, the police provide essential civilizing services. Yet, nearly everywhere their reputation is tarnished by incompetence and abuses, large and small. For too many people, the police are not a positive good, only a necessary evil. KIRAN BEDI, India’s highest ranking female police officer and currently Delhi’s inspector general of prisons, believes the police can do better.
Taught by her unconventional parents to compete and “to think equally,” BEDI excelled both at school and at tennis, the family passion. She sailed through college and a masters degree and, in 1972, at the age of twenty-two, won the women’s lawn tennis championship of Asia. That same year she entered the police academy and, in 1974, became the first woman to enter the elite Indian Police Service. Assigned to the capital city, BEDI rose rapidly in the ranks, winning national acclaim—and a presidential award—in 1978 by single-handedly driving off a band of club-and-sword-wielding demonstrators with her police baton.
As deputy commissioner of police in Delhi’s West and North Districts, BEDI posted constables in blue-and-white “beat boxes” where citizens could consult them daily. She redirected former bootleggers to honest livelihoods by arranging friendly loans and assistance. Women’s peace committees, set up at her initiative, promoted neighborhood harmony. As community participation rose, crimes fell. Observing the link between drug addiction and chronic criminality, BEDI set up community-supported detoxification clinics, a model she later developed for wider application as deputy director of the Narcotics Control Bureau.
As New Delhi’s traffic chief, her meticulous planning and ruthlessly impartial enforcement of the rules kept the capital’s motley caravanserai of vehicles moving at the 1982 Asian Games— although she admits she made some enemies in the process.
In 1993 BEDI became inspector general of prisons (Delhi) and took charge of Tihar, India’s largest prison complex. In this brutally overcrowded purgatory dwelled more than 8,000 prisoners, 90 percent of whom were unconvicted and merely awaiting trial. BEDI rapidly transformed Tihar. Today its inmates follow a positive regimen of work, study, and play. Illiterate prisoners learn to read and write. Others earn higher degrees from cooperating colleges. In prison workshops, prisoners keep their skills tuned and earn wages to save in Tihar’s new bank. Through their panchayats (elected councils), inmates share responsibility for community discipline and for organizing games and entertainment. In yoga classes they learn meditation techniques to still anger and improve concentration. Complaints placed in the mobile petition box go directly to the top and are taken seriously. Tihar is a different world today. In it BEDI’s charges are being imbued with positive attitudes and practical skills for life beyond the walls.
In all of BEDI’s innovations there is a pattern: each one seeks to break down adversarial relations between the police and the community, and each one seeks to replace the hard hand of punishment with the healing hand of rehabilitation.
The discipline, confidence, and competitive spirit of BEDI’s youth remain with her at age forty-five. She is impatient and inclined to buck the system. “It is tough to go against the wave,” she says, “but at least you reach where nobody else can.”
In electing KIRAN BEDI to receive the 1994 Ramon Magsaysay Award for Government Service, the Board of Trustees recognizes her building confidence in India’s police through dynamic leadership and effective innovations in crime control, drug rehabilitation, and humane prison reform.
Twenty-two years ago, when I decided to join the elite Indian Police Service, I saw in it a great potential for the “power to do,” the “power to get things done,” and the “power to correct.” I do firmly believe that the police in any country can be the greatest protector of human rights and the rule of law—as it can as well be the greatest violator of both.
The Ramon Magsaysay Award has done a couple of magical things in my case, as it has in others. It has recognized:
1. The Power to Prevent
Crime prevention is usually given a lower priority and underestimated as an area of policing. What gets priority and headlines are detections and seizures, not prevention of delinquency and breach of peace, which have all the potential of violent crime.
2. The Power of Policing the People
“Policing is for the people,” therefore people must be made partners in policing. Once that is done in a variety of ways, it provides transparency and accountability to the whole system. Resources that cannot alone come from the police could come from participative policing.
3. The Power of the Team
Leaders of the police or government, if they want results, need to form teams and allow them initiatives, delegation, support, noninterference, and training, with total emphasis on professional integrity. While personal example is crucial, sharing of achievements will lead to more results. This will lead to not only “keeping security” but “creating security.”
The award has propelled me to consolidate and expand my work. For this I have registered a trust called India Vision. I am breathing life into it at this moment. It will carry forward projects in the fields of prison reform, drug abuse prevention, empowerment of women, mental disability, and sports promotion. I seek your greater support in these projects.
I accept the Ramon Magsaysay Award with total gratitude to the Foundation and the Philippines, on behalf of my team comprising Police-Prison-People and my family from India.
Kiran Bedi née Peshawaria was born on 9 June 1949 in Amritsar, a city located in northern India’s Punjab state. The second of four sisters, she is widely recognized as a woman with a sense of mission, someone who will struggle against any and all obstacles in order to follow her convictions. She is keenly aware that her life is different from that of most other women in India: she comes from a landed family and was the first in her family to enter any branch of government service, let alone the police. Asked if she would join the police service again if reborn, she has replied that she would, “provided I have the same parents.”
Born just after Partition, in the wake of Indian independence, Kiran was raised in a family with strong nationalistic feelings. Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru were revered and afforded tremendous respect. She and her sisters called Nehru “Chacha” (Uncle), as in Chacha Nehru, as he was commonly known to the children of India at that time.
Kiran grew up in a large, two-story house with multiple rooms and extensive grounds and stables owned by her paternal grandparents. She and her immediate family lived on the ground floor; her father’s parents lived upstairs. Her father’s elder brother also lived in the house for a while but later moved to a family-owned hotel. While the family language was Punjabi, English and Hindi were also spoken, and there were always several English-language newspapers and books in the home. The result for Kiran, she says, was “a balanced growth of English, Hindi, and Punjabi.”
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