Why the Idea of the University Is Under Strain in India Today

In “Dark Academia: How Universities Die”, sociologist “Peter Fleming” maps how modern universities are hollowed out not by sudden collapse but by slow, well-meaning erosion. His argument resonates sharply with developments unfolding in Indian higher education today. A series of recent debates — on academic stress, discipline, and attendance — suggest that the very idea of the university is being quietly redefined, with consequences that go far beyond individual campuses.

Three arguments reshaping campus life

Three trends stand out in contemporary Indian higher education. First, academic rigour and structured schedules are increasingly portrayed as primary sources of student stress. Second, minimum standards of discipline are framed as constraints on creativity rather than as enabling conditions for learning. Third, compulsory classroom attendance is now seen by some as an unnecessary burden rather than a pedagogical necessity.

These arguments recently received judicial endorsement when the “Delhi High Court” ruled that no law student should be barred from examinations solely due to insufficient attendance. While motivated by concern for student welfare, the ruling has reopened deeper questions about what universities are meant to do — and how far external authorities should intervene in academic design.

What a university was originally meant to be

To understand what is at stake, it is worth revisiting older ideas of the university. In “The Idea of a University”, “John Henry Newman” described the university as a transformative space — one that brings together knowledge, freedom, and purpose to shape individuals capable of serving the public good. Central to his argument was institutional autonomy: universities, he believed, function best when their internal academic decisions are entrusted to educational leaders rather than external authorities.

At its core, the university was meant to pursue two goals — the creation of original knowledge and the cultivation of intellectually independent citizens. Teaching, learning, and evaluation were instruments to serve these ends, not obstacles to be negotiated away.

When faculty become administrators and police

Modern universities, however, have drifted far from this ideal. Faculty members are increasingly required to perform roles for which they were never trained — enforcing attendance, handling disciplinary disputes, responding to parental complaints, and complying with dense regulatory frameworks. Fleming describes this process as the bureaucratisation of the university.

This shift drains academic energy. Time that should be spent on teaching, research, and mentoring is consumed by compliance and conflict management. Worse, failure to perform these quasi-policing roles often attracts public and parental backlash, leaving faculty exposed and institutions risk-averse.

Student stress: a real problem, a misplaced target

There is no denying that student mental health pressures are real and growing. Social expectations, economic uncertainty, and competitive cultures all weigh heavily on young people. Academic environments can exacerbate these pressures, and many universities lack specialised mental health infrastructure to respond adequately.

Yet universities often become convenient scapegoats for problems that are fundamentally social and systemic. Regulators simultaneously demand ambitious curricula, continuous assessment, and measurable outcomes — all of which require sustained engagement. When some students struggle to cope, institutions face an impossible choice: lower academic standards or push students to meet them. Either path invites criticism.

Attendance, classrooms, and the meaning of rigour

The recent relaxation of attendance requirements strikes at the heart of academic practice. Classroom teaching is not merely about information transfer; it is about dialogue, questioning, and intellectual discipline. Even as artificial intelligence transforms access to information, it cannot replicate the personalised engagement of a committed teacher — particularly in complex, interpretive fields such as law.

By weakening the link between classroom participation and evaluation, policy and judicial interventions risk nudging universities towards an online or minimally engaged model of education. This may offer short-term relief but carries long-term costs for academic depth and professional formation.

Autonomy versus intervention

The larger issue, echoing Fleming’s diagnosis, is the steady loss of institutional autonomy. When courts and regulators step in to resolve pedagogical questions, they may do so with good intentions — but they also accelerate the transformation of universities into administratively managed service providers rather than self-governing intellectual communities.

The decline of academic rigour rarely comes through dramatic decisions. It arrives through incremental concessions, each justified as compassionate or pragmatic, until the university’s core purpose is quietly diluted.

The unresolved question

India’s universities today stand at a crossroads. Protecting student well-being is essential, but so is preserving the demanding, structured environment that makes higher education meaningful. The challenge is not to choose between care and rigour, but to recognise that without rigour, the university itself loses its reason for existence.

As Fleming warns, institutions do not die from hostility alone. They often die from being slowly asked to become something else.