Sanjeev Bikhchandani gets a C in ICT

Since reading Ashoka University founder Sanjeev Bikhchandani’s e-mail to a concerned alumnus on Monday for the first time, I have found myself repeatedly returning to the content of his mail, trying my best to take it seriously.  The response from both sides of the aisle was predictable, with one side quick to write Ashoka’s obituary as a space for critical thinking, and the other celebrating Bikhchandani’s “brilliant answer”  to the anti-national cabal that has infected the university. Both reactions are exaggerated, and assume that the InfoEdge founder is taken far more seriously than he really is inside the University by students and faculty, who liken him to the loud uncle one endures at their second cousin’s wedding. If Ashoka is to slide into self-abandonment, as some have argued, then it will be because of global trends — unsuitable political conditions for critical thought, a steady de-prioritsation of the humanities, job-related anxieties among the youth — and not because of the individual views of one of its founders. 

Bikhchandani’s views must be taken seriously, not because they are a sign of things to come at Ashoka, but because he is an important stakeholder in Indian higher education, whose thoughts must be examined and questioned for what they are, and not what they signify. I attempt, in this piece, to genuinely engage with his arguments, reading it as if I were grading a paper in one of Ashoka’s Foundation Courses. I find that Bikhchandani presents a straightforward argument — institutions employing adults are not activist, and institutional solidarity should not be an expectation at Ashoka. Others far more eloquent have engaged with this larger argument and its implications, vehemently disagreeing. I focus exclusively on the articulation of his views, finding it thoroughly lacking in argumentative coherence. 

Despite likely being in the room when it was decided that Introduction to Critical Thinking would be a Foundation Course at Ashoka, Bikhchandani’s argument is riddled with strawmen. He begins his letter by creating the perfectly delusional set of enemies of Ashoka, who insist that every liberal arts student must also be an activist. Aided by Google AI, the rational founder intervenes, pointing out that activism remains an individual choice in the context of a liberal education, and that “You can be a great liberal arts university and not be activist.” There are two implications of this, one or both of which Bhikchandani is alluding to — that there is a camp that thinks all Ashoka students must be activists, or that Ashoka as an institution must be activist. Nobody has ever said either of these things. Ashoka has been criticised for banning activism, for purposely making it difficult to do activism, and for not standing by the members of its community when they have been victims of organised trolling. None of these criticisms imply that all Ashoka students must be activists, or that the University should be so. The reader can decide if point 1 of the letter is borne out of  a genuine misunderstanding or a purposeful misrepresentation.  

Grade: C

In point 2, Bikhchandani demarcates what is and isn’t academic scholarship. He is more than welcome to express his opinion, which has a logic to it, though one might disagree. What he implies at the end of point 2 and repeats in point 5 though, deserves consideration. “Cruel as it may sound”, he writes, individuals associated with Ashoka are all grown adults and live with the outcomes of the choices they make, instead of expecting the University to support the “political opinions you express in your personal capacity.” Fair enough, except not a soul expects the University to do that. The absence of a policy of assured support for all those associated with the university in all contexts has never been criticised, nor is it cruel. But a policy of assured distancing from members of the community even when it is beyond obvious that they are being harassed, is, as Bikhchandani puts it, cruel. We live in a cruel and individual world, and Ashoka will replicate that world  in all its cruelty and individualism, he says. That’s your prerogative Mr Bikhchandani, but it's not quite the ‘gotcha’ that you think it is.  

Grade: B

In the same context, he goes on to question, in point 3, if Ashoka should replicate the corporate world’s practice of steering clear of “Politically Exposed Persons.” It is indeed this section that reduces his grade from a respectable B-, to a concerning C+. As some have pointed out, the “concept of “Politically Exposed Persons” originates from financial regulation, intended to flag risks of corruption and bribery.” This obviously doesn’t apply to Professors in a University, so then why should there be concern for Politically Exposed Persons teaching at Ashoka? Could it be that we inhabit an environment that makes it difficult for institutions to employ those with a certain public political perception? Is he implying that the easiest way to protect the University is to stay silent in a context that punishes those who are not?  If he is, what is he implying about those who are imposing the punishment, those who are making it difficult for Universities to employ a certain kind of people? Bikhchandani’s fear is that Politically Exposed Persons can spell trouble for the health of an institution. Fair enough. But doesn’t that argument rest on the premise that punishing the employers of dissidents goes with the territory of the contemporary political environment? Why is he reluctant to spell out that premise? 

Grade: C+

I must say, he redeems himself in point 4. No notes. A. 

Money runs the world, and it doesn’t grow on trees, insists Bikhchandani in point 6, emphasising that without the founders, Ashoka would simply not be the university it is. Why are we even considering the possibility of life without the founders, you ask. Because of the hypothetical scenario that the Governing Body decides to listen, when the “students and faculty of Ashoka insist that Ashoka as an institution support every utterance and every action of each of its activist faculty and students.” Much like in point 1, Bikhchandani somehow re-moulds demands that the University stand by members being trolled and harassed, or that the University publicly  affirm the constitutional right of its students and faculty to make peaceful utterances and actions into a demand of support for “every action of each of its activist faculty and students.” 

When the founders desert the newly woke Ashoka, he says that,

"You will need to immediately balance the books. I don’t know who will donate money — if you can get donors, great; if not, you will need to do all or some of the following: raise the fees, cancel the scholarships, freeze head count and salaries (perhaps even reduce salaries), cancel capex and expansion plans, increase the class size, increase the teaching load on the faculty, de-prioritise research, allow in day scholars, shut some departments, not offer any elective courses that have fewer than (say) a hundred registrations, cut down the size of the administration, reduce placement support, reduce the admissions team, and simplify the admissions process (have a simple process and depend only on the CUET, for instance). All around cost cuts, revenue maximisation and getting the faculty to teach more in order to survive financially. It will be a very different Ashoka from what we had envisioned and which you experienced but it will survive. Why don’t you and other alumni offer to step in and take over?"

He is absolutely correct. I reproduce the full body of his text though, because he makes a very important point about the role of a University founder. Keep fees as low as possible, offer as many scholarships as you can, keep the head count healthy, keep professors incentivised by offering good salaries and allowing them to decrease their teaching load to prioritise research, ensure placement support, and handle capex and expansion. For the most part, Ashoka’s founders have stuck to these roles and made the University a roaring success. Sometimes, they have exceeded those roles, resulting in the University’s biggest failures.  There is no doubt that it is incredibly difficult being an Ashoka University founder in 2025, but “come do it yourself” is a remarkably poor reaction to criticism. It is especially poor in the context of point 3, where Bikhchandani is ready to blame activists for making life as a founder difficult (and they do!) but too scared to name those who target activists for the same.  B-

It is impossible to critique point 7 of his post without going into the specifics of a particular case, which I will refrain from at the moment. But it warrants examination in that it makes his views on things clear. One by one, he states : 

• Freedom of speech is a constitutional right. 

• One should use  good judgement and responsible conduct.

• Intelligent people understand the appropriate timing of what to say, where, when, and to whom, and how 

• If you end up offending a whole bunch of people, even though you were not technically incorrect in what you said, then an expression of regret and an apology is a sign of good grace and decency. 

• Hijacking an institutional platform to make it subordinate to your political agenda is an act of institutional capture and selfishness. Expecting the institution to then support you is an act of entitlement and arrogance.

I agree with some, and disagree with others, but that is irrelevant. What is important, is that Bikhchandani selectively outrages against those who go against his beliefs. He has criticised those who have supposedly hijacked an institutional platform, those who have ended up offending a whole bunch of people, those who have allegedly timed their comments inappropriately and thereby used poor judgement. Yet, he has not criticised a single person who has been complicit in attempts to curb the constitutional right of Freedom of Speech. I wonder why. 

Overall Grade: C

The writer is an alumnus of Ashoka University. They have preferred to remain anonymous for personal reasons.

The views, opinions, thoughts, or perspectives expressed in this article belong solely to the writer and do not necessarily reflect the views, policies, or positions of The Edict.