“The turning point came during Ravi Naik’s tenure as Chief Minister. Whether one agrees with his politics or not, it is undeniable that his administration took decisive – and some would say ruthless – action to dismantle gang networks. Arrests were swift, crackdowns were relentless, and gang leaders were either behind bars, on the run, or out of business entirely.
For years after, Goa enjoyed a rare peace in which gang-related violence became the exception rather than the rule.
Today’s gang activity may appear on a smaller scale than in the past, but its brazenness is alarming.
The Mungul attack wasn’t conducted in a shadowy back alley – it happened near a hotel, on a public road, at dawn.”
The serene postcard image of Goa – of palm-fringed beaches, peaceful villages, and a warm, easygoing culture, was shattered yet again this week when bullets and blades flew on the streets of Mungul, South Goa.
Two young men, ambushed on the Margao–Colva Road, were left bleeding, their car riddled with bullet holes. The attack was as brazen as it was brutal: swords, sticks, and gunfire were used in the heart of a region that prides itself on being safe and welcoming.
Police say it was gang rivalry. Locals say it’s part of a disturbing pattern. Politicians, as expected, say it’s a symptom of a collapsing law-and-order system. But whatever the explanation, one truth is unavoidable—there seems to be no fear left of the police, of the law, or of consequences.
This isn’t the first time Goa has had to confront the menace of organised criminal gangs.
The 1980s and 1990s were rife with similar turf wars, often spilling over into public spaces, putting innocent lives at risk. Back then, these feuds were not just street brawls but sophisticated criminal networks tied to smuggling, drugs, and extortion.
The turning point came during Ravi Naik’s tenure as Chief Minister. Whether one agrees with his politics or not, it is undeniable that his administration took decisive – and some would say ruthless – action to dismantle gang networks. Arrests were swift, crackdowns were relentless, and gang leaders were either behind bars, on the run, or out of business entirely.
For years after, Goa enjoyed a rare peace in which gang-related violence became the exception rather than the rule.
Today’s gang activity may appear on a smaller scale than in the past, but its brazenness is alarming.
The Mungul attack wasn’t conducted in a shadowy back alley – it happened near a hotel, on a public road, at dawn.
That level of confidence suggests the perpetrators did not expect to face immediate repercussions. The fact that no arrests have been made days after the attack only fuels this perception.
Law enforcement officials assure the public that “multiple teams” are on the case, but the public’s trust in such assurances is wearing thin. The violent display of weapons and the open use of firearms in public settings point to an environment where criminals are confident they can act without fear of swift retaliation from the state.
Political commentary has taken the familiar route of blame games rather than concrete solutions. Some leaders, like RGP chief Manoj Parab, are framing the incident as a cultural and demographic crisis, targeting migrants as the root cause. While migration and demographic changes are worth discussing in a broader socio-economic context, they cannot serve as an all-purpose explanation for criminality.
Goa’s gang wars of the 80s and 90s flourished long before the recent waves of migration, proving that the problem lies as much in weak enforcement and political patronage as in population shifts.
What is most troubling is the apparent absence of political resolve to wipe out organised gangs. The machinery of law enforcement—police stations, intelligence units, provisions under the Arms Act exists.
What seems absent is the cohesive strategy and uncompromising execution that marked the anti-gang operations of the 90s. Strong action does not mean lawlessness by the state. It means gathering intelligence on gang structures, hitting their finances, arresting their leaders, and prosecuting them swiftly and effectively. It also means resisting political interference—because history shows that gangs often thrive under the patronage of those in power.
The longer decisive action is delayed, the more these gangs will entrench themselves, recruit new members, and escalate violence. This is not alarmism—it is a lesson Goa learned decades ago and now seems in danger of forgetting. The people of Goa do not expect miracles, but they do expect their streets to be safe, their police to be proactive, and their leaders to act in the public interest rather than indulge in point-scoring. Each gang attack that goes unanswered chips away at that trust. When bullets can be fired in broad daylight on one of South Goa’s busiest routes and the perpetrators vanish without a trace, the message is clear: the fear of the law has eroded, and criminals know it. Restoring that fear-knot through rhetoric but through visible, effective action – is the only way to stop Goa from sliding back into the dark days of unchecked gang rule.
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