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Ashoka University Can't Call Its Refusal to Stand Up to BJP's Bullying 'Institutional Neutrality'

From Ali Khan Mahmudabad to Sabyasachi Das, a common thread emerges: a discernible threat from Hindutva elements and the Ashoka administration's apparent inability or unwillingness to confront it.
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Apoorvanand
Jun 06 2025
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From Ali Khan Mahmudabad to Sabyasachi Das, a common thread emerges: a discernible threat from Hindutva elements and the Ashoka administration's apparent inability or unwillingness to confront it.
ashoka university can t call its refusal to stand up to bjp s bullying  institutional neutrality
An image of Ashoka University, put through a filter. Photo: www.ashoka.edu.in.
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The recent controversies surrounding Ashoka University and its faculty member Ali Khan Mahmudabad have ignited a crucial debate: to what extent should a university, particularly one positioned as a bastion of liberal arts and critical thinking, publicly defend its academics when they face external pressure for their speech or research?

While some argue that universities should remain politically neutral, perhaps the issue is not about endorsing individual political stances, but about upholding the fundamental principle of academic freedom in the face of escalating threats.

There's a widely held view that universities cannot be partisan when it comes to the political stands taken by individual faculty members or students. Indeed, in any academic institution, diverse political viewpoints are a given, and the university, as an entity, should ideally not align itself with any one faction. This perspective is often rooted in the observation that public universities, when faced with penal actions against their faculty, rarely issue statements either in favour of or against the individuals involved. Such a precedent might suggest that it is unfair to demand that Ashoka University's management defend Ali Khan Mahmudabad’s writings.

However, the core demand from Ashoka's alumni and the broader academic community was not that the university endorse a specific political viewpoint.

Instead, it was for the administration to unequivocally stand for the liberty of its faculty members and students to write and speak on matters they deem important.

While no one expects a university to defend an individual accused of criminal acts like murder or sexual harassment, the expectation changes drastically when a member of the academic community is hounded by state authorities or non-state actors like the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) or Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP) for acts of speech. In such instances, the bare minimum expected of an administration is a clear statement affirming its commitment to the individual's right to expression and condemning any attacks on its community members for expressing their views.

Also read: Founders of Ashoka Should Know that a University Can't be Equated With Hierarchies of a Corporate Office

Free speech versus its contents

If an administration feels it cannot do so, then at the very least, it should remain silent, rather than taking a public stance that effectively undermines the faculty member. In Ali Khan's case, Ashoka University unfortunately took a definitive stance: it publicly chose not to defend his right to expression. The university’s promoters, who champion the institution as a beacon of liberal education, should understand that defending the right to speech does not equate to agreeing with the content of that speech. This distinction, crucial to academic freedom and constitutional rights, seemingly eluded them.

The university's initial public reaction, stating that "comments made by a faculty member on his personal social media pages do not represent the opinion of the university," while factually true and generally understood by academics, was perceived as a premature distancing. It conveyed a message that Ali Khan was to face the assault on his constitutional right alone, without institutional solidarity in his "moment of persecution or humiliation."

This pattern of distancing is not isolated to Ali Khan.

The case of Sabyasachi Das, an economics faculty member, provides an even more alarming precedent. Das had posted a research paper, still a work in progress, on social media. After it drew an angry response from the RSS network, the university immediately dissociated itself from him. While it is legitimate for an administration to state that it is not responsible for its teachers' research findings, Ashoka went further. It felt compelled to discredit Das's work by stating, "Ashoka values research that is critically peer-reviewed and published in reputed journals. To the best of our knowledge, the paper in question has not yet completed a critical review process and has not been published in an academic journal." The university effectively implied that because the paper was not yet peer-reviewed or published, it was unworthy of defence or even consideration.

Disturbingly, reports from Das's colleagues suggest that the administration attempted to interfere with his research work, offering suggestions it was not entitled to make. The economics department at Ashoka University issued a scathing statement condemning this as "institutional harassment," a curtailment of academic freedom, and an action that forces scholars to "operate in an environment of fear." They further refused to cooperate in any future attempts by the governing body to evaluate individual faculty research. The political science department echoed these concerns, highlighting that the governing body's actions "questioned the credibility of the peer review system" and signalled to students "that critical enquiry can be met with severe repercussions," thereby undermining the very mission of a liberal arts university. Such actions represent a blatant violation of a faculty member's academic freedom.

Prior to Das, the administration reportedly "gently persuaded" Pratap Bhanu Mehta, a celebrated intellectual acquisition, to leave the university. Mehta's intellectual brilliance, though initially showcased by the promoters, soon seemingly proved too hot to be handled safely, particularly given the BJP government's known disdain for his critical disposition. Even without a public RSS campaign against him, the Ashoka administration appeared to have exercised anticipatory caution, effectively removing him to pre-empt any embarrassment to its promoters. Earlier still, Rajendran Narayan was forced to resign following his support for a petition related to Kashmiri issues.

In all these episodes, a common thread emerges: a discernible threat from Hindutva elements and the Ashoka administration's apparent inability or unwillingness to confront it. However, the university's public statements never explicitly mention this fear or the overwhelming pressure from the RSS network.

The university is not honest when it takes the cover of institutional neutrality. It should have the moral courage to tell us that since a bully by the name of BJP is ruling the nation it will be difficult for it to stand up to it.

The university pretends to be frank but cannot accept that it is fearful. Or, that it silently agrees with the BJP regime and wants it to stay.

Instead, it resorts to taking a perceived "high moral ground," emphasising academic rigor and subtly deriding public writing. This implies that engagement on public platforms, unlike traditional research papers, is not a "proper academic thing," and thus, perhaps, not deserving of institutional support. This stance fundamentally misunderstands the role of public intellectuals and the broader impact of academic engagement beyond peer-reviewed journals.

This situation brings to mind Upendra Baxi’s profound essay, 'Teaching as Provocation.' Baxi reflects on the unuttered question from his students: "What good can you do for us?" His answer: "Do not merely look at what I say; look at what I do with what I say."

He argues that conviction can only be conveyed if students see their teachers embody their beliefs in the rule of law, human rights, and human dignity, often necessitating activism beyond the classroom. Baxi distinguishes between "rationalist" teachers, who maintain a "respectable, and safe, distance between knowledge and politics of action," and "hedonist" teachers, who embrace a "politics of commitment to causes." Hedonists believe they learn from real-life struggles, passionately commit to altering conditions, and understand that democratic processes are "created through acts of struggle."

Ashoka University's repeated actions suggest a preference for "rationalist" teachers who avoid public engagement that might invite controversy.

I think all those who want to create a university need to first read this essay and decide if they want to hire hedonist teachers at all. Or if they should pack their department with rationalist teachers.

But as we realise in every rationalist lives a hedonist. So, all in all, teachers are hazardous elements. And promoters of the business of mind should understand that there are hazards of their occupation they will have to deal with and not complain when faced with it.

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