Co-authored by Sreya Dutta Chowdhury:
February marks the third year since JNU had been inculpated as an anti-national space. Hot on the heels of this event, the university witnessed rigid alterations in the functioning of the administration, none of which went uncontested from the academic community. Amidst the shrill cacophony of the ‘Anti-national’ and ‘Rahstra-Drohi’ rant, the question still remains – what does it mean to be a part of a struggling public university today? A beloved professor once ruminated, “Aren’t we all here, for our love for words?” We are. But does one really have to mention how much it has taken for all of us in the last three years, to keep our love for words alive? In other words, we ask, how much space is actually left for enthusiastic academic engagement?
Of course, behind the projected mainstream political drama, JNU has been academically functional because our professors have been profusely engaged in keeping every piece of the academic milieu alive. But has the university really been just the same?
The academic community and the administration have always had their differences. But the purposefully constructed sense of a ‘career-scare’ and mechanisms of ‘efficiency-assessment’ for the teaching faculty has been a new-fangled development. In this culture of consequence and fear, we see an exasperated community. We see professors and students equally exhausted, as we are compelled to administratively account for our routine presence, productivity and pro memoria (no points for guessing which version is argued to be ‘officially true’). When resistance to this administrative insouciance is projected as widespread faculty indolence, it is infuriating and disrespectful for the teaching faculty.
On a larger canvas of contesting ideologies, opportunistic politics, false narratives and campus violence, the students have had the most to lose. It directly impacts the students who are caught right at the centre of academic conflagration fuelled by the systematic trouncing of social sciences in public universities and the flat oppositional politics to a powerfully backed administration. It has led to a plunge in mental health, has begun straining our aspirations and enthusiasm for knowledge. As students, we see people indulging in irresponsible banter on how the university harbours dangerous elements, on what could be the current prevailing ‘degree’ of anti-nationalism on campus. For the very quotidian nature it has come to bear, it is exhausting. It is, therefore, important to address and correct rather than dismiss this narrative that condemns us all.
The public university has always been a space of political imaginaire. However, inside the classroom, ideology is a historical construct, not a badge of honour. That does not make the most of us apolitical or insensitive but leads us to question the narrative where JNU has been conjured up as the handmaiden of oppositional politics. ‘Azaadi’ politics, manifested and manufactured by Feb 9, 2016 events, has become emblematic of the university’s spirit. Whether or not one aligns with the politics, a callous fusion of the two, campus politics and institutional spirit, is misplaced at best, and perniciously imposed at worst. It is this very anti-national narrative that has percolated so well that it has served its purpose. JNU has been and continues to be more than its recognition of diverse political ideologies. It continues to be a space that encourages and emboldens academic aspirations. This space seems to be shrinking for us.
Given how easy it is to leave a public university marked by multiple struggles, it makes us admire our professors’ commitment to critical pedagogy, in the face of insurmountable obstacles.
On the other hand, it’s not too difficult to see the number of professors who’ve left public universities, have decided to not join public universities, and understandably the unfortunate conditions that have influenced their decisions. However, here we would like to pose the question, is teaching simply confined to salaried and recognized positions? We beg not to be misunderstood. This isn’t just about the academic community within the walls of JNU. This is about the larger academic community, including private universities. This is about academic communities across the country that believe in critical pedagogy and strive to uphold the principal value of teaching. If teaching is constrained by walls of universities, by distance, by labels slapped on universities, then that very value is lost. It is imperative to come back to these spaces and have conversations which have been due for too long.
JNU has been struggling to preserve its integrity as a space for critical pedagogy and we have seen influential scholars show incredible solidarity in the face of political assault on JNU. Is it then not plausible to imagine the same inertia that would add similar ballast to our pedagogical imperatives as well? In the eyes of non-JNU scholars, can there be solidarity that enables scholarship, over and above political freedoms? Can the JNU community be regarded and considered for the academic dynamism it deserves, and not just for the brave fronts it puts forth against maladministration?
While the ongoing tussle between administrative bullies and student representatives has connotations and context beyond campus walls, the disappointment is that those outside continue to address our politics but not our enthusiasm for knowledge. This may or may not help the cause of freedom of expression, but it definitely keeps perpetuating the narrative of JNU politics. The narrative needs to change and students need to be prioritised. Surveillance tactics and budget cuts aside, there are classes full of people who wish to learn more. Voices of dissent aside, there are thinking minds who deserve to be imparted with knowledge. As students of sociology, interest regarding the discipline and love for the written word fuels our journey in academia. In the cacophony of azaadi, botched videos and coercive circulars, the common student has been left awash.
If there’s one thing worth mentioning from the dubious IB report on ‘flagged’ universities, is that scholars are no longer guarded by the walls of their universities. For those who’ve left public university spaces, this letter is a humble plea to the scholarly community, to come back to these spaces and revive the vibrancy of academia. The exigency of this moment is to make all of those dynamic interactions between institutions, scholars and their ideas possible. This is the true spirit of JNU.
If one really wishes to make an oppositional politics a sensible one, it begins with realizing that for an administration whose intent is to curb spaces of critical pedagogy, the strongest challenge is the survival, growth and vibrancy of the very spaces. It begins with bringing back what critical pedagogy promises to a student- multiple perspectives and possibilities of introducing, imagining and articulating new ideas and explanations. And none of this will be possible without teachers and their commitment to the simple promise of teaching.
What fun is it if a person doesn’t jump over a wall to do what they wish to? In speaking truth to power sometimes one needs to expose its conspicuousness by confronting power and by laughing in the face of power. The question is, will the teachers of our time do the same?