In the mid-1950s, Dr Radha Krishnan was emerging on the political firmament and was often sought after. Those were the days when any association with a British university, more specifically Cambridge, Oxford or London, was a special background for making a career in India.
The pattern changed in the decades to come, but the allure of foreign affiliation remained high in the Indian employment market and, indeed, in the Indian psyche. London, Cambridge, Oxford and more did not exactly go away, but there emerged on the scene, alongside institutions like Boston, Yale, Harvard and more. This showed in the employment market. A degree or placement from these institutions was a high recommendation for employment in India. The Planning Commission was a particular favourite for the influential with this background to return to India. Careers were made there, and prominence was assured.
The Government, both at the Central level and at the State level, kept the slogan of Indianness alive, but their ability to convert it into a dignified employment pattern was missing. A degree from, say, ‘Ujjain University’ and the like may have had a lot of worth, but it was not reflected in the employment market. Indianness was a slogan, not the prime attraction for careers. This was true at the graduation level, at the postgraduate level, and certainly at the PhD level. This fact of image and pricing was reflected in many political statements but never found its way into the employment market. This was unfortunate for the growth of the Indian education system.
It is true that in the sixties, many useful and worthwhile Central universities emerged, as did the IITs, IIMs and more. However, the malaise remained. Students graduating from IITs or with a certification from the IIMs also sought their careers abroad and were hardly attracted to the Indian market.
Hence, the situation emerged where talent was drawn to IITs and IIMs as well as distinguished Central universities, but graduating from there did not merit serious attention for staying back in India. This was popularly condemned as ‘brain drain’, but nothing operational was effectively done. There was a sense of status deprivation for Indian degree holders. Clearly, this did not bode well for nation-building. The flaws were obvious and many. Some of them were well recognised but seldom acted upon. Illustratively, if an Indian student went for a PhD topic abroad, his choice of topic was determined by the specialisation of his supervisor and the resources available in the institutions of his choice. This did not help the growth of an Indian-oriented IIT or IIM orientation.
This situation persisted through the seventies and the eighties. A few people tried to flag this problem, but even an Indian-oriented political leadership was unable to reverse the trend. In fact, the influential members of the system, in many ways, reinforced it by sending their wards abroad for education and employment. They could do this more freely because they were influential in the Indian system, and the non-Indian universities from prestigious learning centres of the West knew how to develop relationships with them. They saw it as an opportunity to create a relationship of obligation with an influential class of Indian decision-makers.
What is said above was no secret and so obvious that it would be like missing the writing on the wall. Yet, as stated, nothing was done. There were many theories projected to explain this, but while these theories may explain and enlighten, they did not alter the trend or its effect. Gradually, the resistance, if any, to this Western-oriented learning came from a political coterie which was essentially anti-West. This is in reference to the Indian Left parties, such as the Communist Party, the Communist Party of India (Marxist), and some socialism-oriented Indian parties, such as the Praja Socialist Party and the Samyukt Socialist Party, et al.
The Indian parties of Left orientation lacked the range and depth to set up universities in India with a particular bias or correction of an existing bias. The communist variations of populist parties were a little more endowed with range. They started sending some of the brightest students in their range of influence to Moscow for PhD work and other studies. The language barrier there was strong, and going to the US was an easier option than going to Moscow (where learning Russian would be a prerequisite). All put together, the options did not really emerge, and the pull factor of English-oriented education, first in the UK and then in the US, continued to rule the roost. It still does. A few attempts were made to set up institutions with a particular bias, such as JNU, but the experiment produced mixed results and later revealed its own biases.
All told, the Indian system of education went by default, and the lethal blows delivered during early British rule and colonial dominance continued to shape Indian politics, Indian education and therefore Indian writing to a very large extent. It is interesting to note that successive education policies announced by the Central Government did little beyond rhetoric to effect meaningful change.
The Indian education system, rich as it was, did not receive any serious institutional support or place in the employment market. Indian degrees such as Sahityacharya or Teerth had little draw in the domestic education market, and the route to employment remained tied to degrees such as Bachelor of Arts, Master of Arts, Master of Science and the like. This lack of cusping with the Indian employment market had a negative impact on the growth of ‘Indian’ education.
The last few years have seen an attempt to reverse these trends, but the results have yet to come in. Persistence and perseverance with clarity of thought will perhaps show the way forward.
The writer is an internationally acclaimed management consultant; views are personal