A Trojan Horse for privatisation of education
Education has become a commodity. Those who can afford to buy it buy it, and those who can sell it make money out of it.
—Kailash Satyarthi
The concept of ‘graded autonomy’ in the National Education Policy (NEP) 2020 promises to offer higher education institutions (HEIs) “the freedom and flexibility to innovate, adapt, and excel in education and research”.
Recently, the University Grants Commission (UGC) announced graded autonomy to eight esteemed central universities in India, including the University of Delhi, providing them with varying degrees of independence in their academic and administrative endeavours.
UGC chairperson, M Jagadesh Kumar, asserts that “by tailoring their programmes to meet the growing needs of students and industries, autonomous institutions can contribute immensely to academic excellence and global competitiveness.”
However, he conspicuously omits mention of the intricate correlation between financial autonomy and academic excellence, leaving out an explanation of how financial independence inherently begets a commensurate rise in academic prowess.
Under the guise of academic freedom, this policy grants HEIs merely financial-managerial autonomy, allowing them to establish new departments and centres, launch new courses, conduct open distance learning programmes, employ foreign faculty, enrol international students, and determine course fees—all without requiring the UGC’s approval, given that these endeavours are funded through tuition fees and do not rely on government funding.
The induction of self-financing courses craftily opens the door for the privatisation of public education. In navigating financial demands, universities will inevitably be compelled to resort to either of the two approaches: increasing tuition fees to unprecedented levels or forging financial partnerships with private enterprises to secure funding and resources.
This enables private players to enter the market and leverage the demand for higher education, promoting educational programmes that prioritise commercial viability over education quality, societal needs, or student welfare. Consequently, there will be a dissuasion from investing in and enrolling in intellectually rigorous but economically less lucrative courses, such as humanities and social sciences.
This increased intervention of private players in the educational realm marks a notable departure from the traditional philanthropic ethos that once underpinned academia—transitioning towards a corporate model where the pursuit of profit maximisation reigns supreme, eclipsing all other considerations.
This shift in education from a noble public good to a coveted private commodity leaves students shouldering the financial burden of the institution’s purported autonomy.
They find themselves caught amidst the crossfire of skyrocketing tuition fees, mounting student debt, and a myriad of ancillary costs. These expenses unleash an even fiercer onslaught on the aspirations of disadvantaged and marginalised groups, hurling additional obstacles in their path to success and ensnaring them in a relentless cycle of deprivation—a labyrinth from which escape seems increasingly intricate.
Education, in this sense, becomes a privilege contingent upon one’s financial prowess rather than intellectual acumen, as the notion of equal access fades into obscurity and socioeconomic status dictates the opportunities for knowledge and empowerment. While reservation policies may persist formally, the concept of graded autonomy may exploit market dynamics to gradually erode their implementation, thereby rendering the promise of inclusive education an elusive mirage, forever beyond the reach of those historically disenfranchised from learning.
Hence, cloaked in the guise of autonomy, the graded autonomy model seeks to sever the tie between the state and education, absolving the state of its obligation to fund education and morphing universities into profit-driven arenas devoid of academic integrity.
This policy document misreads autonomy as freedom. What universities and higher education institutions truly need is academic freedom, but this freedom gets shortchanged with autonomy.
Even in the finer lines of the gazette issued by the former MHRD (now the Ministry of Education), it is repeatedly stated that universities and HEIs can exhibit innovation and introduce new academic programmes or courses, but only ‘within their existing academic framework’ and ‘consistent with the approved nomenclature of the UGC’.
However, operating within the confines of existing frameworks and nomenclatures, universities can only engage in improvisation rather than genuine innovation. The autonomy provided by the policy document merely spares institutions from the obligation of submitting formal applications to the UGC and undergoing its inspections, yet it remains uncertain whether this autonomy extends beyond the purview of NAAC and NIRF assessments. If not, evaluations through grading will continue to hog these programmes and courses.
What universities need is the freedom to have Vice-Chancellors who are distinguished academic leaders and not linchpins of government ideology; the freedom to appoint faculty based solely on merit rather than on affiliations with a particular political or apolitical organisation; the freedom to teach without fear of censorship or reprisal for offending anyone’s sentiments; and the freedom to design courses, programmes, and respective reading lists without any biases or prejudice.
What universities need is the wisdom and guidance of Tagore and Newman, yet what the HEIs are getting are cues taken from the Birla-Ambani Report. As Newman astutely observes, universities “are schools of universal learning”—places for the (free) communication and circulation of thought, rather than financially autonomous centres solely aimed at churning out digitised citizens to cater to market needs, leaving them incapable of thinking critically and examining themselves.
The notion of autonomy without freedom serves to highlight what is reiterated multiple times in this policy document: ‘no funds should be sought from the government’. This economic independence and autonomy not only absolve the State of its welfare responsibilities but also entail inherent perils, wherein capital gains the power to decide the future course of knowledge production and dissemination.
(Navneet Sharma teaches in the Department of Education at the Central University of Himachal Pradesh, Dharamshala and Anamica Sharma is a PhD scholar at IIT Bombay-Monash University, Australia)