By Anon
“NEHU cannot run on protest and counter-protest; it must run on statutes.”
“When the Executive Council cannot be convened, approvals cannot be granted.”
“A central university deserves evidence and procedure, not a permanent trial by pressure.”
“If an inquiry is ordered, credibility demands that findings—not rumours—guide decisions.”
“Protect students’ learning first; politics and posturing can wait.”
North-Eastern Hill University (NEHU) is not witnessing just another campus dispute; it is undergoing a stress test of what the rule of law means inside a publicly funded institution. Since October 2024, governance has repeatedly been pulled away from statutory forums: Academic Council deliberations, Executive Council decisions, and formal inquiries into a volatile arena of ultimatums, shutdowns, and public messaging. What has unfolded illustrates how politicised mobilisation, delayed inquiry outcomes, and paralysis of statutory bodies can damage a central university more than any individual controversy.
The paradox of “absence” and exclusion
At the centre of the narrative lies a contradiction. While certain campus bodies accused the Vice-Chancellor of being “absent,” they simultaneously declared him persona non grata and barred his entry. To physically prevent a constitutional functionary from accessing his office and then accuse him of dereliction is not merely paradoxical; it produces administrative deadlock. Reports suggest that, despite exclusion, he repeatedly expressed willingness for dialogue. In a democracy, conflict is resolved through conversation, not prohibition.
As protests intensified in late 2024, demands reportedly escalated from removal of specific officials to calls for the Vice-Chancellor’s resignation. His public response, however, remained procedural: that removal of officers must follow due process and that he was willing to face inquiry. In a statute-governed institution, that is precisely how allegations should be tested.
From Vandalism to Physical Assault: A Timeline of Fear
The deterioration of campus order followed a troubling trajectory. Reports of vandalism at the Vice-Chancellor’s residence and subsequent FIRs signalled a shift from protest to coercion. Recognising the seriousness of the impasse, the Ministry of Education constituted a two-member inquiry committee in November 2024. Such an intervention indicated that the matter warranted independent scrutiny. Yet an inquiry creates its own obligation: transparency. If findings exist, they should guide decisions rather than remain unseen while speculation fills the vacuum.
Equally concerning are reports that intimidation extended beyond property damage to individuals within the academic community. One particularly disturbing incident involved a faculty member from the Hindi Department who was reportedly physically manhandled and abused. When a university reaches a point where teachers fear for their safety, the issue ceases to be administrative disagreement and becomes a question of institutional security and academic freedom. Violence or intimidation, whoever commits it, cannot coexist with scholarship or open debate.
A regional pattern
As 2025 unfolded, NEHU’s turmoil hardened into disputes over the legality, venue, and authority of Executive Council meetings. At least one proposed off-campus meeting was reportedly derailed by protests and procedural objections. This is not an isolated aberration but part of a wider institutional pattern: when statutory processes are obstructed and inquiry findings remain undisclosed, governance itself becomes contested ground.
Late 2025 saw a strikingly similar episode at Tezpur University, another central university in the region: allegations triggering agitation, disputes over administrative legitimacy, a contested virtual meeting to appoint a Pro Vice-Chancellor, and a senior professor stepping in as Acting Vice-Chancellor citing statutory provisions. Different campus, different personalities, yet the same underlying pathology. When procedure is paralysed and findings are delayed, authority stops being a duty and turns into a battleground. Universities are then no longer governed by statutes, but by standoffs.
In a telling intervention, the Ministry of Education stepped into Tezpur University and appointed a senior professor from IIT Guwahati as Pro-Vice-Chancellor to steady an administration drifting toward factional contest. The move underscored a hard truth about institutional crises: when statutes are stretched and oversight falters, ambition rushes in to fill the vacuum, with senior-most academics invoking procedural clauses to style themselves as acting Vice-Chancellors, less out of necessity than out of the perennial human temptation to claim authority when it lies momentarily unguarded.
The overlooked stabilisers
Amid turmoil, Pro-Vice-Chancellors in both the Shillong and Tura campuses reportedly sustained day-to-day functioning by conducting examinations, clearing administrative backlogs, hosting academic events, and managing finances despite reduced grants. Their efforts demonstrated that governance continuity, even under strain, is possible. Pressure leading to resignations or obstruction of such stabilising roles risks deepening the administrative vacuum rather than resolving it.
The Executive Council stalemate
The most serious casualty of the crisis is institutional functionality. The Executive Council is not ceremonial; it is the university’s principal executive authority for administration, finance, appointments, and policy. When it cannot meet, the entire system stalls, promotions remain unratified, scholarships delayed, budgets frozen, and student programmes suspended.
A directive from the Ministry of Education, Government of India, dated 20 August 2024 states that statutory body meetings should ordinarily be held on campus, with exceptions permitted for compelling reasons and prior intimation. Yet insisting simultaneously that meetings must be on campus while preventing the statutory Chair from entering campus produces a structural impasse. The result is governance by stalemate.
This is where a balanced and responsible public narrative must focus – a narrative that does not inflame the dispute but diagnoses the mechanism of paralysis. It is also why arguments about “who is right” in the abstract do not help students awaiting scholarships or teachers awaiting promotion confirmation. What helps is a time-bound, statute-compliant pathway back to decisions.
The real cost
The cost of this “statutory lockdown” is being paid by teachers and students.
First, consider the Career Advancement Scheme (CAS) promotions. For months, the narrative has been that promotions are being denied. The reality is more complex and tragic. While Pro-Vice-Chancellors have worked to clear backlogs and conduct necessary screenings, these efforts are futile without the final seal of the Executive Council. Even if a Pro-VC conducts the process, the promotion cannot be legally confirmed without EC ratification. By stalling the EC on procedural pretexts, “forces within the university” are effectively freezing the careers of their own colleagues, damaging local and non-tribal teachers alike who have waited years for their due.
Second, the deadlock is severing the university’s lifeline to central resources. Essential government educational schemes and scholarships require EC proceedings for implementation. Without a functioning EC, these funds remain stuck in the pipeline. We are seeing a situation where austerity measures are already needed due to cuts in UGC grants, yet we are voluntarily blocking the administrative body that could sanction relief.
The same dynamic appears in student welfare. Stakeholders have warned that scholarships, fellowships, and externally funded research projects are at risk amid a leadership vacuum and missed deadlines. Students have similarly reported delays in fellowships, scholarships, and academic approvals and linked these to the lack of a decision-making authority. Even if not every scholarship requires EC approval in every case, many university actions that involve budget allocation, sanctioning, and financial compliance rely on statutory supervision in which the EC plays an explicit role.
Finally, we must address the friction regarding appointments. It is no secret that certain administrative selections are complex and sensitive, and there is a legitimate argument that non-teaching and administrative posts should, where appropriate, prioritise local candidates to reflect regional aspirations. Yet even such constructive policy choices require a functioning Executive Council to be properly debated, adopted, and implemented. With barely five months remaining in the incumbent Vice-Chancellor’s term, failure to convene the Executive Council risks delaying the constitution of the mandatory Search Committee and could inadvertently open the door to an extension of his current tenure. Simply put, a system cannot be reformed by rendering its statutory mechanism inoperative.
So how can this be resolved without anyone losing principle or face?
The responsible path forward
The path forward is not rocket science. NEHU is an institution meant to stabilise futures, not destabilise them. The fairest, most defensible way to protect the university’s reputation, while also protecting individuals from unjust accusation, is to restore statutory normalcy. The Executive Council must be allowed to meet, whether online or at a neutral venue, to clear these suffocating backlogs. We cannot claim to fight for the “welfare of NEHU” while simultaneously strangling the only statutory body capable of delivering it.
The solution does not lie in choosing sides but in restoring procedure. Three immediate steps could stabilise the institution:
Disclosure of inquiry findings (with justified redactions if necessary).
Restoration of statutory governance through properly convened meetings.
Rejection of intimidation in all forms.
Until those steps occur, the vacuum will keep producing rival narratives: “witch hunt” on one side, “incompetence” on the other. NEHU deserves better than a permanent public trial without published findings. The institution’s integrity and the region’s higher education future demand what universities are meant to teach: reason, evidence, and fair process.
