By Narayan Prasad Mishra
I have always believed that education is the backbone of development. It shapes citizens, empowers societies, and builds nations by imparting knowledge. In Nepal, the dream of higher education began to take shape with the establishment of Tribhuvan University in 1959. I was privileged to witness that moment, contribute to its growth, and later suffer from the very politicization that undermined its ideals.
The Birth of Higher Education in Nepal
Before 1959, Nepal had no university of its own. Our oldest college, Tri-Chandra, was founded in 1918, but it was affiliated with Patna University in India. Nepalese students studied at home, but their examinations were set in India, and their degrees carried an Indian seal. For postgraduate study, one had to go abroad, which was only affordable for the wealthy or a few scholarship recipients.
This reality changed when two Queen Mothers, Kanti Rajya Laxmi Devi Shah and Ishwari Rajya Laxmi Devi Shah—spouses of King Tribhuvan–championed the idea of a national university. They led the commission that laid the foundation stone at Kirtipur in 1958. The following year, Tribhuvan University (TU) was established, bringing all nineteen colleges of Nepal under its authority. For the first time, we had our own guardian of higher education.
Tribhuvan University began modestly, offering master’s programs in eight subjects in 1959. In 1965, postgraduate science departments were introduced, allowing students to pursue advanced studies without leaving Nepal. The fundamental transformation came in 1971, with the National Education System Plan, which integrated all colleges into TU and emphasized technical education. During this period, institutes in medicine, engineering, agriculture, and forestry were established, and Nepal began producing its own professionals in vital fields.
Dedication and Sacrifice
The early decades of TU were guided by visionary and integrity-minded leaders. Vice-chancellors like Sardar Rudra Raj Pandey and Dr. Trailokya Nath Uprety set high standards of honesty and efficiency. During those years, academics devoted themselves to nation-building rather than personal gain.
My late wife, Shanti, and I dedicated our lives to building the Tribhuvan University Central Library. Shanti, Nepal’s first full-time female professor, gave up teaching to transform the library into a national institution. Together, we worked tirelessly, and in time, it was recognized as one of the finest libraries in South Asia. We believed wholeheartedly that education, supported by strong institutions, could change Nepal’s destiny.
The Cost of Truth
Yet even in those hopeful years, I saw flaws. The education system was weighed down by impractical designs, misplaced priorities, and a growing culture of chakari—sycophancy. I wrote openly about these issues, calling for reforms: better teachers, stronger libraries and laboratories, impartial examinations, and realistic administration. But truth is often unwelcome. My articles, written only to improve education, were seen as threats. I was branded “anti-education” and even accused of being “anti-monarchy.” Promotions were withheld, humiliations inflicted, and doors closed.
One experience remains vivid in my memory. After I topped the results for the post of Deputy Registrar, the Vice-Chancellor, displeased with my writings, delayed publishing the outcome for nearly a year. At a public event, under the influence of alcohol, he admitted that he was determined not to promote me. Only after I confronted him—respectfully but firmly—was the result finally announced. Later in my career, in 1992, when I was the Chief of the Office of the University Service Commission, I was compelled to take what was termed “self-retirement” fourteen years before the legal retirement age, not because of incompetence, but because the institution had become politicized under party dictatorship.
The Arrival of Politics
During the Panchayat era (1960–1990), political influence began to infiltrate the university, primarily through student and teacher associations. However, after 1990, when multiparty democracy was restored, politicization became rampant. University leadership was no longer about academic merit. The Vice-Chancellor, Rector, and Registrar were appointed on the basis of party loyalty. Professors were promoted for political activism rather than scholarly work. Students turned into party cadres instead of learners.
The bhagabanda system—where ruling parties divide top posts among themselves—has transformed universities into miniature versions of Nepal’s unstable coalition politics. Just as parliament has walkouts and disruptions, campuses face strikes and padlockings. The university, once envisioned as a temple of knowledge, has become a playground of politics. Because of this unwelcome intrusion, even university authorities — the Vice-Chancellor, Rector, and Registrar — who happen to be purely academic and remain above politics, are often harassed and obstructed by political activists
Decline and Disappointment
The consequences have been devastating. Nepal now has more universities and colleges than ever, yet the quality of education has declined sharply. Degrees are produced in abundance, but research, innovation, and true learning are scarce. The brightest students succeed mostly through their own determination, not because the system nurtures them. Every government since 1990 has promised reform. Countless commissions have been formed, countless reports written, but the fundamental issue—politicization—has never been addressed. Unless universities are freed from political control, quality education will remain beyond reach.
The Way Forward
I believe the solutions are not difficult to imagine.
(a) Appoint leaders based on academic excellence, not party ties.
(b) Keep professors, employees, and students independent of political affiliation.
(c) Strengthen libraries, laboratories, and research.
(d) Ensure examinations are impartial and credible.
(e) Most importantly, moral and spiritual values should be embedded in education.
As Paramhansa Yogananda wisely said, true education should teach not only how to make a living but also how to live a fulfilling life.
A Personal Reflection
My journey with Tribhuvan University is one of both pride and pain. I am proud because I saw its birth, devoted my life to building its library, helped shape its administration with systematic order, and believed deeply in its promise. But it is also painful, because I witnessed its decline, suffered under its politicization, and endured humiliations simply for speaking the truth.
But my story is not only personal. It is the story of Nepal’s higher education itself—its noble beginnings, achievements, and decline under political influence. If Nepal truly wishes to progress, our universities must once again become sanctuaries of knowledge, free from political interference and dedicated to the pursuit of truth. Only then will education, the backbone of development, stand firm in our country.
I wholeheartedly admire the present government for trying its best to keep educational institutions out of dirty politics by dissolving the political student, professor, or administrative staff organizations. I honestly feel that even the present opposition parties, who wrongfully politicized educational institutions earlier, must admit their past mistakes and appreciate the present government for this step if they really love the country.
The author is a non-partisan writer of several books and articles in Nepali and English, former Chief of the Office of the Tribhuvan University Service Commission, Nepal, and a senior citizen in his mid-eighties.
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