Galgotia is the face of 'quality education' as envisioned by those who never considered education a tool for social change or national uplift — and yet this is precisely the model Narendra Modi pursued in Gujarat as Chief Minister. In the mid-eighties, when many of us were growing up, 'Nirma' became one of the most popular advertisements on Doordarshan. Whether the product was any good hardly seemed to matter.
A decade later, when I travelled to Gujarat, I was shocked to encounter the vast campuses of 'Nirma University'. By then, state schools and colleges in Gujarat had been largely dismantled — during the same period when Christians faced regular violence and their institutions were being targeted.
Rather than equal and quality education for all, the aim was to produce a docile class of students in the Gurukul mould — obedient followers of whatever their Gurus decree. Predictably, these private institutions will never make space for students from the margins.
Over the last ten years, we have watched India's credible institutions being dismantled and discredited — not by students or academics, but by the party in power. The method has evolved. The power elite no longer simply demolishes; it captures institutions and fills them with second-rate loyalists. Every institution in India carries this story, including the media, where RSS-BJP functionaries have been installed as 'experts' on every subject under the sun.
Now consider the question of AI and of Galgotia. AI is nothing but a sweeping generalisation of intellect — a global corporate offensive against the autonomy of individual thought. AI needs Galgotias: institutions that produce mere technicians with no room for creativity. The kind of creative thinking one might encounter at a Shantiniketan or Visva-Bharati will find no home in the concrete corridors of these so-called 'educational' institutions. Ask a simple question: how many of these 'Galgotias' have produced research papers that meet even national standards, let alone international ones? Are they delivering quality education, or manufacturing an elite class sympathetic to varna vyavastha and the Hindutva narrative? These institutions enjoy the freedom to denounce every campus protest as the work of 'Naxalites' or the 'Tukde Tukde Gang' — freedom to condemn anything that does not fit the BJP-Hindutva script.
Consider Exhibit A: a 'research paper' authored by a scholar from Galgotia's School of Medical and Allied Sciences which 'proved' that the coronavirus could be killed by the sound vibrations produced by clapping or ringing bells. "There is previous scientific proved and also have importance because of positive initiative taken by Indian Prime Minister Shri Narendra Modi. He encourages his country to make vibration sound for five minute at March 22, 2020," wrote 'Research Scholar' Dharmendra Kumar, published in the Journal of Molecular Pharmaceutical and Regulatory Affairs, Volume 2, Issue 2 (March–August 2020).
In post-2014 India, thriving businesses require 'scientists', 'doctors', and 'researchers' to sustain the claim that we are Vishwaguru — which is why we are invited to tune into Mann Ki Baat for advice on how to pass examinations. The focus is on passing, not on learning. Naturally, these 'research institutions' will supply staff for laboratories run by outfits like Patanjali.
These private schools — first branded 'National', then 'International' or 'Global' — have mushroomed across the country, particularly in northern India. Their pitch to parents is simple: government colleges and universities are worthless. Yet those government institutions were, in fact, far superior. So how does one make the private alternative look better by comparison? You cannot do it on merit alone. You must dismantle the state apparatus, because public universities are producing large numbers of young people from the margins. You blame these students for lacking merit, all while opposing reservation. You introduce EWS quotas as a constitutional sleight of hand. You then plant party propagandists in positions of academic authority at credible institutions, purely to hollow them out.
Look at the response of Neha Singh to recent criticism. Have you ever seen a professor speak in such a manner? In our smaller towns and degree colleges, every teacher at the graduate level is called a 'professor' — and yet I have known many remarkable souls who dedicated their lives to universities but would quietly say, "I teach at Delhi University" or "I teach at JNU," rather than boasting of a title. The woman in question looked far more like a PR agent or a WhatsApp narrative-setter than an academic. Whether she holds the title of professor is beside the point. What matters is what her conduct tells us about the education these institutions are actually imparting.
We are witnessing a war against intellectualism and creativity on every front. The Western world continues to hold its ground precisely because its greatest knowledge-domain challenges come from Russia and China, forcing it to remain rigorous. India, by contrast, rather than building credible institutions, has dismantled them — and now attempts to fill that void with hollow structures calling themselves 'universities'. These universities are mostly family fiefdoms that provide retired bureaucrats ample opportunity to lobby. Privatisation in India has not been a sudden development; it is the culmination of a long effort by priestly-mercantile communities to preserve their hegemony within the power structure.
These communities held a monopoly since independence, but it was gradually being challenged. Politically, people from the margins began claiming their space. Yet the media, academia, judiciary, and bureaucracy remained under elite control. V.P. Singh's decision to implement the Mandal Commission report in 1990 changed the equation. A broader SC-ST-OBC alliance emerged. Power began shifting towards the Bahujan. They were entering academia and civil services. This challenge to hegemony was not taken lightly by the caste elite. The rise of Hindutva is directly connected to this moment — though its architects know that without the political support of Dalits, OBCs, and Adivasis, they cannot hold power. Hence the strategy of engaging these communities through Hindutva's cultural narrative, which remains firmly under Brahmanical control. The BJP today is playing the same accommodation game that Congress once played, with somewhat greater sophistication and verbal agility. Even so, BJP-Hindutva remains no match for Congress, which, for all its service to Brahmanical interests, did create genuine spaces for Dalits, OBCs, and minorities.
India's opposition parties owe the people a clear promise, if they wish us to believe they genuinely oppose the politics of BJP and Hindutva. Can they commit to strengthening public institutions — universities and colleges? Will they promise to build a quality public health system — taking lessons from a small country like Cuba or from Britain's National Health Service? Strengthening public health does not mean expanding medical insurance schemes; it means building robust public health infrastructure across the country. Equally, it means investing seriously in primary, secondary, and university education. Will Rahul Gandhi and his team think in these terms? The results would be impressive. Once you strengthen public research institutions, grant them genuine autonomy, and ensure diversity in their administrative and teaching bodies, you will not need to lean on AI or any other shortcut.
AI, at its core, is a mechanism for entrenching Western hegemony and private monopoly over knowledge systems that are now, slowly and necessarily, being democratised and decolonised. Beware of these new trends. Never abandon the original texts in your research. AI can serve as an aide, but it cannot be your guru — and those who urge you to surrender to it are simply shepherding you into herd behaviour.
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*Human rights defender
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