akrishnarao

Tag: Education

  • India Produces CEOs — So Why Not World-Class Universities?

    India’s higher education system stands at a strange crossroads. It is one of the largest in the world, enrolling more than 40 million students across over a thousand universities and tens of thousands of colleges. Yet, despite this vast scale, no Indian university has entered the top 100 of the QS World University Rankings 2026. The contrast is stark: institutions like the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Imperial College London, Stanford University, University of Oxford and Harvard University continue to dominate the top positions, while India’s highest-ranked institution remains outside the elite bracket. This is not merely a matter of prestige; it reflects deeper structural weaknesses in research, academic culture, governance and integrity.

    For years, India has witnessed what the Yashpal Committee described as the “mushrooming” of higher educational institutions. The rapid proliferation of private and deemed universities has created an uneven landscape where expansion often precedes quality assurance. While private investment in education is not inherently problematic, the monetisation of degrees and dilution of regulatory scrutiny have led to a system increasingly driven by numbers—student intake, campus size, publication count—rather than substance.

    The obsession with quantity over quality is particularly visible in research. Faculty appraisals, accreditation metrics and institutional branding frequently rely on publication counts. Predictably, this has encouraged the growth of predatory journals, paper mills and unethical authorship practices. India produces a large volume of research output, yet much of it goes unindexed, uncited and unnoticed globally. Academic reputation cannot be manufactured through inflated numbers. It emerges from sustained, rigorous scholarship, peer recognition and intellectual honesty.

    The events at the 2026 India AI Impact Summit exposed this malaise in dramatic fashion. Galgotias University, a private university based in Greater Noida, showcased a robotic dog named “Orion” and presented it as an in-house innovation developed by its Centre of Excellence. Observers quickly identified the machine as a commercially available Chinese-made Unitree Go2 robot. What was claimed as indigenous innovation turned out to be a rebranded product. Following public backlash, the university was asked to vacate its stall. The episode was not just an embarrassment for the institution; it was emblematic of a deeper crisis in academic integrity.

    This was not merely a case of miscommunication. It reflected a troubling culture of spectacle over substance—where exhibitionism substitutes for research, and branding replaces originality. Even more concerning was that the university holds formal recognition and accreditation. The incident therefore raised uncomfortable questions about regulatory oversight and the credibility of quality assurance mechanisms. If institutions can publicly misrepresent commercial products as research achievements, what does that imply about internal review processes, faculty evaluation systems and research verification standards?

    Such episodes damage more than a single university’s reputation. They undermine confidence in the broader academic ecosystem and cast doubt on the authenticity of innovation emerging from India’s campuses. In a global environment where credibility is paramount, even isolated incidents can have disproportionate consequences.

    The crisis extends beyond private universities. Public institutions, including Delhi University and Jawaharlal Nehru University, often struggle with faculty shortages, regulatory micromanagement and constraints on academic autonomy. Academic excellence thrives on intellectual freedom—the freedom to question, dissent, experiment and critique. Without a protected “Socratic space,” universities risk becoming instruments of conformity rather than engines of innovation.

    The government’s recent push under the National Education Policy 2020 to internationalise higher education, including inviting foreign universities to establish campuses in India, is presented as a corrective measure. The logic is that global competition will raise standards and retain students who otherwise go abroad. While the entry of foreign institutions may offer new opportunities, it cannot substitute for systemic reform. Reputation cannot be imported. Research culture cannot be franchised. Institutional excellence requires long-term investment in faculty, laboratories, research funding and governance transparency.

    India’s research expenditure remains below 1% of GDP, far lower than that of leading knowledge economies. Faculty–student ratios remain unfavourable in many institutions due to mass enrolment without proportional recruitment. Graduate unemployment signals a misalignment between curriculum and employability. International students hesitate to choose India because of inconsistent quality, bureaucratic hurdles and limited post-study opportunities. These are structural challenges that branding exercises or regulatory tweaks cannot solve.

    The fundamental issue is not international rankings; it is credibility. Global citations, academic reputation and foreign student enrolment are outcomes—not starting points. They reflect the underlying health of an academic system. When plagiarism is normalised, when publication quantity outweighs research quality, when political conformity eclipses intellectual autonomy, and when institutions chase spectacle instead of scholarship, rankings merely mirror the reality.

    Yet the paradox persists. India has outstanding institutions like the Indian Institutes of Technology, Jawaharlal Nehru University, the Indian School of Business and the Delhi School of Economics. It has produced global leaders such as Satya Nadella and Sundar Pichai. If such excellence exists, why does the overall system still struggle to match the standards of leading universities abroad?

    The answer lies not in individual brilliance but in systemic structure. India has islands of excellence, not a uniformly strong academic ocean. Elite institutions admit the top fraction of students through fiercely competitive examinations. They function well because they select exceptional talent, attract relatively stronger faculty and receive better visibility and funding. But the broader ecosystem—thousands of universities and colleges—does not operate at that level. Global standards are determined by depth across tiers, not by a handful of elite outliers.

    The global success of figures like Nadella and Pichai reflects the strength of Indian talent. But their achievements were shaped by exposure to advanced research ecosystems, institutional autonomy and well-funded innovation environments abroad. Brilliant individuals can emerge from imperfect systems. Sustainable global academic reputation, however, requires robust institutions—equipped with research funding, intellectual freedom, ethical discipline and long-term vision.

    The Galgotias episode should therefore be read as a warning, not an anomaly. It illustrates what happens when numbers overshadow knowledge and image overshadows inquiry. If India aspires to become a genuine global education hub by 2047, as policy frameworks suggest, it must first address the foundations. Quality must precede quantity. Autonomy must accompany accountability. Research must value impact over volume. And merit must prevail over spectacle.

    There is no shortcut to academic reputation. It cannot be engineered through branding or borrowed prestige. It must be built patiently, through integrity, intellectual courage and sustained investment. Only then will India’s vast educational system match the brilliance of its people.

  • Rethinking Tax Devolution in Uneven India

    India’s fiscal federalism is facing a moment of quiet but consequential strain. Chief Minister N. Chandrababu Naidu’s remarks on tax devolution have once again brought to the surface a long-simmering grievance among better-performing states: that they contribute disproportionately to the Union’s tax kitty but receive a shrinking share in return. The data broadly supports this sentiment. A small group of economically advanced states account for the bulk of direct tax and GST collections, while a significant share of tax devolution flows to poorer, high-population states. However, for the country to prosper, all its regions have to prosper, Naidu said in an interview on Sunday with PTI Videos, adding that the states are allies, not enemies.

    Yet, framing this issue simply as “performers versus non-performers” risks obscuring a deeper structural problem. The real question is not whether redistribution is justified—it is—but whether India’s current system of fiscal transfers is equipped to handle the vastly different development trajectories its states have chosen.

    Finance Commissions are constitutionally mandated to address horizontal imbalances among states. Inevitably, this means that poorer states such as Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and Madhya Pradesh receive a larger share of devolved taxes.Poorer states like UP, Bihar and MP received 36% of the tax  meant for sharing with the states. Against this, these three states contributed only 5% of the total direct tax and Central GST collected by the Centre during that period. This is neither accidental nor malicious; it reflects the principle that citizens should have access to comparable public services regardless of where they live. From this perspective, redistribution is not a penalty on success but a cornerstone of national unity.

    However, this logic begins to fray when redistribution appears perpetual and weakly linked to outcomes. Southern and western states that invested early in education, health, and population control now find themselves disadvantaged by formulae that give significant weight to population size and income distance. Their success in managing fertility and building human capital—once seen as national assets—now translates into lower relative shares. This creates a perverse incentive structure and a growing political resentment.

    Complicating matters further is the Centre’s increasing reliance on cesses and surcharges, which lie outside the divisible pool. While the official share of states stands at 41 per cent of Union taxes, the effective share is considerably lower. States are being asked to shoulder expanding responsibilities—especially in health, education, and infrastructure—without commensurate fiscal space. It is unsurprising, then, that demands are growing to raise the states’ share to 50 per cent.

    Yet, linking devolution directly to tax contribution alone would be equally problematic. Tax collections reflect not just effort but historical advantages, agglomeration effects, and the location of corporate headquarters. A purely contribution-based system would risk locking poorer states into a low-development trap, undermining both equity and long-term national growth.

    The way forward lies in recognising that India is attempting to achieve too many objectives with a single instrument. Tax devolution is being asked to equalise, incentivise, and reward all at once—and predictably, it satisfies none fully.

    A more mature framework would separate these goals. A core equalisation transfer should continue to ensure minimum fiscal capacity for all states. Alongside this, a distinct performance-oriented component could reward states for expanding the national economic pie—through growth, tax effort, infrastructure creation, demographic management, and human capital outcomes. Such a structure would acknowledge both need and contribution without pitting one against the other.

    Equally important is addressing sectoral imbalances. States like Kerala, which prioritised social development, now face infrastructure constraints. Others, like Gujarat, built strong physical infrastructure but lag in social indicators. Poorer states struggle on both fronts. A dedicated, outcome-linked national infrastructure fund—outside routine tax devolution—could help bridge these gaps without distorting the principles of redistribution.

    India’s diversity in development paths is a strength, not a flaw. But managing that diversity requires fiscal institutions that are transparent, differentiated, and forward-looking. Unless redistribution is paired with clear incentives and a fair sharing of resources, political “heartburn” will only intensify.

    The choice before India is not between rewarding success and supporting the vulnerable. It is about designing a federal compact that does both—openly, credibly, and sustainably.