Revolution Half-Done: The Universe of Ideas that once formed JNU is laid out in this new history
by Pratap Bhanu Mehta | February 21, 2015 | Indian Express
Book Review: "JNU: The Making of a University" by R. Batabyal, Harper Collins, New Delhi, 556 pages, Rs 799.
Historically, universities have been sectarian enterprises. In principle, they are committed to the cultivation of intellect and sometimes character. But quite what this means was often framed in terms of particular pedagogical, political or national goals. Many universities have religious origins; some were instruments for national regeneration; others embodied pedagogical goals of academic entrepreneurs, and others still were simply instrumental, shaped by the dictates of labour markets. This often makes universities susceptible to a peculiar tension. They are, in self-image, open spaces, places for the entire universe of knowledge, every argument and counterargument. But they are also susceptible to charges of partisanship, of mistaking partial knowledge or particular methodologies for the whole thing. This is particularly true in the social sciences and humanities. Arguably, in reputation at least, this tension has been most pronounced in the case of one of India's leading universities: Jawaharlal Nehru University.
As Batabyal notes in his engrossing, wide-ranging and deeply interesting history, this constitutive tension marked JNU. The Rajya Sabha select committee inserted a schedule that the "university shall endeavour to support and promote the study of the principles and fulfil the ideals for which Jawaharlal Nehru stood…" To this Prof. Mukut Bihari Lal objected rather presciently that it was never wise to represent the ideals and ideologies of a nation as the principles and ideals of a great man. Whether JNU was created to further inquiry or further particular values has obsessed both its defenders and critics ever since. Batabyal captures this debate with illuminating nuance.
The book's greatest strength, oddly enough, consists less in its ability to illuminate the inner working of JNU than in its wonderful evocation of the broader institutional, political and intellectual contexts in which JNU operated. The first 200 pages or so, centred on the heroic jurist and minister M.C. Chagla, are riveting and full of ironies and a sense of déjà vu. They capture vividly the institutional debates of the time that have left their imprint on the current crisis of higher education. It is hard to believe now, but the University Grants Commission (UGC) had in the Sixties issued a circular arguing that universities should not be named after persons. Now, universities are instruments of hagiography.
In the early debates, JNU was thought of as a large affiliating university that would potentially absorb independent research centres. Some wanted state-wise quotas, and other still wanted to break Delhi's domination over education. There was bitter debate over the desirability of professors partaking in political activity, whether inspired by the RSS or the Communists. And, in bittersweet irony, often it was the Left that opposed the creation of JNU.
Curiously, the most absorbing sections in the book are on the decline of the great universities outside Delhi, from Rajasthan to Aligarh. The immense pressure on Delhi came from the fact that during the Sixties most of the well-functioning universities elsewhere became trapped in the politics of vernacular parochialism. Like a poison, it consumed one university after the other.
The early debates on the degree of autonomy universities should have are still instructive. The current human resource development (HRD) minister would do well to read Prof. Tara Chand's poignant outburst captured in the book. Teachers were trusted to develop morality and intellect in young men; yet one did not trust them to do this with full responsibility. He wrote, "Teachers of universities are not angels, they are not superhuman beings, they are Indians like all of us. If we are not going to trust them, who are we going to trust?" This is the heart of the debate over education.
The second half of the book is uneven. Batabyal is quite convincing that JNU is less monolithic than it appears. There are useful accounts of the intellectual flavour of different departments. But he tactfully shies away from the politics of knowledge that has marked these departments and the whole range of blind spots that have marked the university. He is good on the early days of JNU and the faculty politics of the 1970s, pointing out quite convincingly that the nexus between intellectuals and the state is more a product of the Indira Gandhi than the Nehruvian era. He has interesting accounts of student politics, pointing out that democracy was often a strategic value, not a commitment. He has a rather surprising claim that JNU's general lack of hygiene is connected to the politics of secularism. You will also encounter the headiness of the early Left debates, encapsulated in the legendary historian Jairus Banaji, one of the most theoretically brilliant minds I have encountered. But Banaji's Trotskyist putdown of a colleague that he is "gripped in the vice of rigid social categories which he puts in the place of live historical forces," is a charge that, perhaps somewhat unfairly, fixed JNU's image as well.
Batabyal's book ends rather abruptly with no conclusion. Given JNU's culture, where every thing is semiotically overdetermined, perhaps Batabyal is also trying to send a message. It is not clear where the university is headed. But this history should convince you that, for all its afflictions, this indispensable university is still worth taking to greater heights. But time may be running out for it.
Source: http://indianexpress.com/article/lifestyle/books/revolution-half-done/
Further Details: http://amazon.in/review/R2WNV8VXXIMKOZ/by Pratap Bhanu Mehta | February 21, 2015 | Indian Express
Book Review: "JNU: The Making of a University" by R. Batabyal, Harper Collins, New Delhi, 556 pages, Rs 799.
Historically, universities have been sectarian enterprises. In principle, they are committed to the cultivation of intellect and sometimes character. But quite what this means was often framed in terms of particular pedagogical, political or national goals. Many universities have religious origins; some were instruments for national regeneration; others embodied pedagogical goals of academic entrepreneurs, and others still were simply instrumental, shaped by the dictates of labour markets. This often makes universities susceptible to a peculiar tension. They are, in self-image, open spaces, places for the entire universe of knowledge, every argument and counterargument. But they are also susceptible to charges of partisanship, of mistaking partial knowledge or particular methodologies for the whole thing. This is particularly true in the social sciences and humanities. Arguably, in reputation at least, this tension has been most pronounced in the case of one of India's leading universities: Jawaharlal Nehru University.
As Batabyal notes in his engrossing, wide-ranging and deeply interesting history, this constitutive tension marked JNU. The Rajya Sabha select committee inserted a schedule that the "university shall endeavour to support and promote the study of the principles and fulfil the ideals for which Jawaharlal Nehru stood…" To this Prof. Mukut Bihari Lal objected rather presciently that it was never wise to represent the ideals and ideologies of a nation as the principles and ideals of a great man. Whether JNU was created to further inquiry or further particular values has obsessed both its defenders and critics ever since. Batabyal captures this debate with illuminating nuance.
The book's greatest strength, oddly enough, consists less in its ability to illuminate the inner working of JNU than in its wonderful evocation of the broader institutional, political and intellectual contexts in which JNU operated. The first 200 pages or so, centred on the heroic jurist and minister M.C. Chagla, are riveting and full of ironies and a sense of déjà vu. They capture vividly the institutional debates of the time that have left their imprint on the current crisis of higher education. It is hard to believe now, but the University Grants Commission (UGC) had in the Sixties issued a circular arguing that universities should not be named after persons. Now, universities are instruments of hagiography.
In the early debates, JNU was thought of as a large affiliating university that would potentially absorb independent research centres. Some wanted state-wise quotas, and other still wanted to break Delhi's domination over education. There was bitter debate over the desirability of professors partaking in political activity, whether inspired by the RSS or the Communists. And, in bittersweet irony, often it was the Left that opposed the creation of JNU.
Curiously, the most absorbing sections in the book are on the decline of the great universities outside Delhi, from Rajasthan to Aligarh. The immense pressure on Delhi came from the fact that during the Sixties most of the well-functioning universities elsewhere became trapped in the politics of vernacular parochialism. Like a poison, it consumed one university after the other.
The early debates on the degree of autonomy universities should have are still instructive. The current human resource development (HRD) minister would do well to read Prof. Tara Chand's poignant outburst captured in the book. Teachers were trusted to develop morality and intellect in young men; yet one did not trust them to do this with full responsibility. He wrote, "Teachers of universities are not angels, they are not superhuman beings, they are Indians like all of us. If we are not going to trust them, who are we going to trust?" This is the heart of the debate over education.
The second half of the book is uneven. Batabyal is quite convincing that JNU is less monolithic than it appears. There are useful accounts of the intellectual flavour of different departments. But he tactfully shies away from the politics of knowledge that has marked these departments and the whole range of blind spots that have marked the university. He is good on the early days of JNU and the faculty politics of the 1970s, pointing out quite convincingly that the nexus between intellectuals and the state is more a product of the Indira Gandhi than the Nehruvian era. He has interesting accounts of student politics, pointing out that democracy was often a strategic value, not a commitment. He has a rather surprising claim that JNU's general lack of hygiene is connected to the politics of secularism. You will also encounter the headiness of the early Left debates, encapsulated in the legendary historian Jairus Banaji, one of the most theoretically brilliant minds I have encountered. But Banaji's Trotskyist putdown of a colleague that he is "gripped in the vice of rigid social categories which he puts in the place of live historical forces," is a charge that, perhaps somewhat unfairly, fixed JNU's image as well.
Batabyal's book ends rather abruptly with no conclusion. Given JNU's culture, where every thing is semiotically overdetermined, perhaps Batabyal is also trying to send a message. It is not clear where the university is headed. But this history should convince you that, for all its afflictions, this indispensable university is still worth taking to greater heights. But time may be running out for it.
Source: http://indianexpress.com/article/lifestyle/books/revolution-half-done/
No comments:
Post a Comment