The NEP is selectively invoked to justify any plan that strikes the Union government’s fancy. The text lends itself to such opportunistic use. Its broad principles can apply to any policy
Bengalis may take comfort that the epicentre of Centre-state wrangles about education (and other issues) has passed for now to the southern states, Tamil Nadu in particular. The National Education Policy of 2020 is a favoured weapon of war.
The NEP has become the flavour of all educational seasons. It is invoked for all deeds of commission and omission. Few citizens actually read it; I wonder how many officials do. Yet it is available on the education ministry’s portal, and is a remarkably short document given
its compass.
Its first incarnation was a weighty exercise of 477 pages, prepared under the chairmanship of Dr K. Kasturirangan, former chair of ISRO. The only cavil against such a distinguished and respected choice might be that he has not worked hands-on within the public education system. His team members might have made good much of this deficit; but there was at least one crucial absence, of an expert in elementary education and childhood care.
The draft NEP was a serious, substantial proposal. It paid rare attention to the training, status and working conditions of teachers. It declared education to be a social not a private good, to be supported primarily by the State. It made a momentous proposal to combine anganwadis with pre-primary and early primary schooling. In higher education, it advocated the liberal arts (which embrace the basic sciences) but provided no roadmap. However, it said astonishingly little on science education or even computer skills, while laying stress on Indian knowledge systems. Almost the only reference to mathematics was in two pages on arithmetical riddles for children.
In a word, despite its size, the draft NEP was patchy and sometimes low-keyed. The admirably serious commitment did not crystallize in enough concrete recommendations or attention to ground realities. Moreover, it sparked a controversy that foreshadowed things to come. The section on Indian languages was seen as a ploy to advance Hindi. The document was re-issued with the offending section redrafted.
The final NEP is a horse of a very different colour. It is as brief as the draft was long: it gallops from childhood learning to doctoral research in 65 pages. Thereby hangs another tale. When the document was released, two versions appeared within days of each other without a word of explanation. The most glaring difference is a proposal in the later text for a Higher Education Commission of India controlling
all other regulatory bodies. There was no whiff of this in the earlier avatar.
The drastic abridgement concealed many compromises. The draft’s detailed and humane treatment of school dropouts was reduced to a single bald sentence implying that all children need not attend physical schools. Another unfortunate sentence (taken from the draft) advocates “less emphasis on input and greater emphasis on output potential”. Translated, this means schools in poor and remote areas will receive less funds and infrastructure. Yet just three paragraphs earlier came a pious resolution: “all students [will] have access to safe and engaging school education at all levels”, even by “building additional quality schools in areas where they do not exist”.
So far the NEP has been selectively implemented for cosmetic tinkering, political point-scoring and structural changes involving no expense — or, worse, requiring funds that are not provided. The four-year degree course has been introduced without any additional staff to tackle the 33% extra teaching load. The biggest potential game changer in the entire policy, the merging of anganwadis with early primary school, remains unaddressed.
Instead, the NEP is selectively invoked to justify any plan that strikes the Union government’s fancy. The text lends itself to such opportunistic use. Its broad, pious principles can apply to virtually any policy. As the above example shows, there are also hidden contradictions from which one can pick the convenient alternative. The NEP has become an all-purpose tool to impose the Centre’s will in any educational matter.
An apparently marginal issue has had dire consequences for West Bengal. Under the Union government’s scheme ‘PM Schools for Rising India’, the Centre will fund the development of 14,500 schools in India (less than 1% of the total number) for five years. The follow-up, and all responsibility for the other 99%, rests with the state governments. The lucky schools must prefix the acronym ‘PM-SHRI’ to their names. The Bengal government declined this bizarre bargain. The Centre has thereupon blocked all funds under the Samagra Shiksha Abhiyan — effectively all Central funds for school education — on the charge that the state is not complying with the NEP.
PM-SHRI was launched in 2022: it is obviously no part of the NEP document of 2020. With questionable logic, any Central move on education is now linked to the NEP. Even so, PM-SHRI is a specific funding scheme which a state may or may not avail of. If it does not, it can hardly be charged with flouting national policy.
Education is the concurrent responsibility of the Union and state governments. For virtually all schemes including PM-SHRI, the cost is shared 60:40. Yet invariably, the schemes are devised unilaterally by Delhi and thrust upon the states on an ‘Obey or else’ basis. Education has been fashioned into a weapon of political power.
Tamil Nadu too finds Central funds blocked for an opposite reason, a policy long predating the NEP. The three-language school curriculum has been a staple of Indian education virtually since Independence. The NEP repeats the prescription. As recounted above, the language issue created a furore even at the draft stage. Tamil Nadu alone has consistently followed a two-language model, eliminating the third language which would very likely be Hindi. It insists on continuing the practice.
This may or may not be a good idea. The fact remains that Tamil Nadu is educationally among India’s most advanced states. If the Tamils are to change tack, it will only happen through more interaction with India’s other languages and cultures. Instead, the issue has spawned new conflicts. These are sad times when a national policy ends up dividing the nation.
Sukanta Chaudhuri
Source: The Telegraph, 7/04/25