It would be fair to say that most people above the age of 35 have a somewhat ambivalent attitude towards students.
At one level, we all celebrate the idea of youth and look back wistfully at our own experiences when we were free from larger responsibilities. Those who tend to think of the future of the nation, look upon the youth as the future and are prone to both pampering and indulging overdoses of youthful energy. Simultaneously, however, there is an inclination to be impatient with the carefree recklessness that often characterise student life. In my student years in the 1970s, it was usual to be decried as “long-haired louts” by older people who probably had a tougher time when they were in a similar situation. Indeed, many people who had transited from the teens in the 1940s recalled the tough time they had during World War II (here I am mainly talking of Europeans) or who had experienced the traumas of communal riots and the Partition in India.
Overall, students tend to be given the benefit of doubt. I recall the late-1960s when an exasperation with the newly-found sense of liberation — both personal and political — was combined with the belief that even the ‘misguided’ ought to be given a second chance. That ambivalence paid dividends. A large number of those who were part of the counter-culture that grew up around the Vietnam war are pillars of the establishment today. Yet, most of them (now pensioners) will not regret their wild past. It was, after all, an experience marked by headiness.
As someone who engaged in a variant of radical politics in the 1970s, I must confess to erring on the side of indulgence and generosity. When I read of action taken by either the college administration or the Government against students who have exceeded the bounds, it reminds of my days as a student in the United Kingdom in the second half of the 1970s. One incident is firmly etched in my memory.
During the agitation in protest against cuts in public spending on higher education by a cash-strapped Government, there were student takeovers of administrative offices in many institutions. One such movement was led by my flatmate, now a serious (if excessively radical) professor of sociology in a South African university. The college authorities first tried to resolve the problem by issuing court injunctions on the leaders, asking them to stay away from the administrative offices. When that yielded no result, the authorities took the matter to the High Court to press contempt of court charges which, if upheld, would have meant imprisonment for the offenders. My friend, whose self-image was that of a revolutionary, was delighted. He yearned to be jailed because it would have enhanced his political credentials exponentially.
The High Court judge before whom the matter came up was, unfortunately for him, not a ‘hanging’ judge. On the contrary, being blessed with a great sense of humour, he had a boys-will-be-boys attitude and thought the protesting students to be ridiculous who, at best, warranted a strong rebuke followed by a wink. When the prosecution presented him with a sheaf of leaflets that the students had been distributing, he glanced over a few. Then, without even raising his head, he commented, “Colourful prose, and even more colourful spelling.”
My friend was a tad disappointed that the judge let him off with an advice to go home for the term break and be a little less active. He had been deprived of his chance of being a martyr. I often wonder whether the recent troubles in Jawaharlal Nehru University (JNU) could be resolved by some of the more respected teachers calling protesters for a cup of tea and advising them to get real. Alas, this time the students had crossed all bounds. It would have been understandable — and maybe even welcome — if the demand had been confined to securing free, high-speed internet connections in every hostel room. Unfortunately, the kerfuffle was caused by an intemperate demonstration celebrating the glories of Afzal Guru — the hanged Kashmiri terrorist — and wishing the destruction of the Indian state.
Such an assertion of political extremism may seem natural to those who believe that any issue to trouble the Narendra Modi Government is worth the effort. However, the campus is not an autonomous Republic; it is a part of society. And this particular assertion of free spiritedness went against the cherished beliefs of wider society. It brought into the fore those negative stereotypes of pampered students living off State subsidies and undermining the fundamental values of nationhood. The campuses always accord students and academic an extra measure of intellectual licence. After, restlessness is a precondition of creativity. At the same time, there is a lakshman Rekha that determines the outside bounds of radical creativity. In my view, those JNU students who crossed this loose demarcation were guilty of directing their ire against not merely Bharat Mata but showering their contempt on commonly held sensibilities. Theirs was an assertion of elitist arrogance, and warrants some disciplinary action, if only to prevent copy cat incidents.
Over the years, despite the lavish State largesse, showered on it, JNU has become a citadel of sloganeering and the promotion of radical orthodoxy. It is time some extra efforts were made to bring it back into the mainstream and justify its creation as a centre of excellence. A campus has to breed knowledge and foster knowledge. It cannot be allowed to be turned into a nursery of extremism. How this academic cleansing is best achieved is the responsibility of the education Establishment. Having made their point on TV, indignant politicians must now back off.