By Evangeline Dkhar
When temporary fixes replace permanent solutions, public trust and road safety both suffer.
Anyone who drives through Shillong knows the city’s traffic jams are more than a nuisance—they are a daily ordeal. At busy junctions, one cannot miss the sight of Home Guard personnel signalling vehicles, often outnumbering the regular traffic police. They perform their duty with commitment, but their overwhelming presence raises a deeper question as to why the state is relying on temporary Home Guards instead of appointing more trained traffic police.
At first glance, one might assume it is a problem of financial resources. But Meghalaya is not without funds. The state receives significant central allocations and invests in ambitious projects across infrastructure, education, and health. The issue is not the absence of money, but how that money is managed and prioritized. Recruiting permanent traffic constables involves more than salary. It requires the state to provide pensions, promotions, allowances, and decades-long career support. By contrast, Home Guards receive only a small honorarium, with no job security or retirement benefits. They can be deployed flexibly during peak hours and withdrawn when no longer needed. For the government, they represent a low-cost and low-liability workforce.
While this approach may appear cost-effective, it comes at a price. Traffic police undergo professional training to not only regulate flow but also enforce road safety laws, respond to accidents, and handle emergencies. Home Guards, with their limited training, are largely confined to manual signalling. This weakens enforcement, allowing violations to go unchecked and leaving citizens frustrated with the disorder on Shillong’s roads. The reliance on Home Guards highlights deeper governance patterns in Meghalaya. It reflects the growing dependence on contractual and auxiliary workers instead of investing in secure, permanent public employees.
Similar patterns are seen in schools with ad-hoc teachers/contractual teachers, in hospitals with temporary staff, and in other state services where the government prefers “cheap flexibility” over long-term institution-building. This creates a two-tiered labor system—a small group of permanent, well-protected employees and a much larger group of insecure, underpaid auxiliaries.
The over-reliance on Home Guards also raises questions about state capacity. Strong states build permanent institutions that are trained, accountable, and capable of long-term planning. Weaker states, by contrast, rely on stop-gap arrangements and short-term fixes. Shillong’s traffic control system reflects the latter tendency—managing through improvisation rather than preparing for the city’s growing urban challenges. Equally important is the question of public trust. Citizens judge governance not just by grand projects but by how well everyday problems are addressed. Smooth traffic management, road safety, and timely law enforcement are as crucial as flyovers or new schemes. When Home Guards, with limited authority, take over roles meant for trained traffic police, citizens rightly perceive the government as unwilling to invest in reliable solutions. This over-dependence also raises ethical concerns. Home Guards, despite working long hours in harsh conditions, remain underpaid and excluded from the dignity of secure employment. Their visibility on the streets is high, but their recognition and support from the state remain minimal. In this sense, traffic management in Shillong is also a story of labor inequality and how some forms of work are devalued by policy choices.
If the government is serious about addressing Shillong’s traffic woes, it must move beyond temporary fixes. Home Guards can and should play a supportive role, but they cannot substitute for a professional traffic force. Expanding the sanctioned strength of traffic police, providing them with modern training, and integrating technology such as surveillance cameras and smart signals are essential steps. More importantly, the government must shift its mindset from short-term cost-saving to long-term institution-building.
The sight of Home Guards standing in the middle of Shillong’s crowded roads tells us more than just a story of traffic. It reflects how governance in Meghalaya is practiced—through improvisation rather than planning, and through temporary labour rather than permanent investment. Ultimately, the question is not whether the state has money, but how wisely and fairly it chooses to use it.
(The writer is Assistant Professor : Sociology)
