Orsini’s deportation lays bare fragility of academic freedom

INDIA stands at a paradoxical juncture in its pursuit of global academic leadership. On the one hand, the State declares its objective to reverse brain drain, wooing Indian-origin star faculty from elite institutions in the US, the UK and Europe with assurances of world-class laboratories, competitive salaries and opportunities for pioneering research. On the other hand, it has erected barriers against foreign scholars who have devoted their careers to studying India’s languages, history and culture.

The deportation of Prof Francesca Orsini, an eminent scholar of Hindi and Urdu literature, exemplifies this inconsistency of a government eager to acquire international standing yet wary of collaborative inquiry.

Orsini, affiliated with the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London, has an illustrious academic record. A member of the British Academy, she has taught at Cambridge and SOAS, produced seminal works on the history of print and the literary interplay of Hindi and Urdu, and developed a profound engagement with India’s intellectual traditions through her academic journey from Venice to JNU.

Her work, notably in positioning Hindi as a bridge between cultures, is acclaimed in global academic circles. Yet, she was denied entry into India despite a valid visa, with officials citing vague, ludicrous violations. To those familiar with her scholarship, such reasoning appears farfetched and self-defeating.

This action carries symbolic and practical consequences. While India proclaims its desire to position itself as a Vishwaguru, a global teacher of knowledge and culture, it simultaneously enforces policies that alienate the very scholars capable of advancing that vision. Scholars like Orsini do not endanger India’s identity; they enrich its understanding of itself. Her exclusion reflects a troubling preference for ideological comfort over intellectual exploration, dampening the aspirations of both overseas and Indian academics.

The rhetoric of repatriation further deepens this paradox. Programmes such as Vaishvik Bharatiya Vaigyanik aim to attract expatriate researchers with generous grants, flexible contracts and assurances of autonomy. Premier institutions, from the IITs to IISc and IISERs, have actively hired global faculty to match the research intensity of Western universities. These are laudable initiatives, yet they rest on a flawed premise that talent can be enticed with infrastructure and remuneration alone. Understandably, all true innovation begins with freedom and the liberty to ask difficult questions, to dissent without fear, and to venture beyond the comfort of official narratives. Deprived of such freedom, every incentive becomes an illusion, and any talk of global excellence a hollow refrain.

Orsini’s case is far from isolated. Over the past decade, foreign scholars investigating caste, nationalism or religious identities have faced visa denials, bureaucratic delays and censorship. Figures such as Christophe Jaffrelot, Wendy Doniger and Martha Nussbaum have encountered institutional barriers to conducting or disseminating research on India. Domestically, academics at institutions like Ashoka University, including Sabyasachi Das and Pratap Bhanu Mehta, have resigned or faced institutional pushback for engaging with ideas considered inconvenient to the political mainstream.

Beyond campuses, scholars like Hany Babu remain imprisoned under draconian laws, often without trial for years, and some like GN Saibaba have passed away silently. It is evident that independent thinking is tolerated only when it does not challenge the prevailing orthodoxy.

This tension between attracting talent and safeguarding intellectual freedom is not unique to India. The European Union (EU) has long grappled with concerns over brain drain and research competitiveness. Over two decades ago, the idea of a European Research Area (ERA) was proposed to stem the exodus of researchers to the US and Japan. While progress was slow, recent years have seen renewed urgency.

The EU now seeks to attract academics fleeing political or institutional pressures elsewhere while bolstering research security in a world where science faces ideological and economic threats. Julien Chicot, head of research and innovation policy at the Guild of European Research-Intensive Universities, notes the tension in establishing binding spending targets: “We know that if you put spending targets in the legislation, the member states will hate it… that’s the reality in which we live.” Nevertheless, the principle remains unambiguous: Nations must reconcile efforts to attract talent with the protection of academic freedom.

The cost of neglecting these principles is high. Orsini’s deportation risks alienating the very diaspora the government hopes to lure back home. A young Indian researcher at Harvard or Stanford is unlikely to consider repatriation if independent thought could imperil career, mobility or personal security. Undermining academic trust weakens the foundations of a thriving research ecosystem.

At the heart of this debate lies a deeper question about culture, language and pluralism. Orsini’s work on the shared histories of Hindi and Urdu celebrates India’s interwoven cultural tapestry, a reminder that linguistic, religious and literary identities have long coexisted in a rich and subtle interplay. To spurn her research is to spurn the very pluralism her work celebrates, thereby simplifying nuanced histories into uniform narratives.

Dialogue, which is essential to global academic relevance, stands stifled. For India to emerge as a global hub of education, it must guarantee university autonomy, streamline visa processes for foreign faculty and restore confidence among international and Indian scholars.

The European example underscores this point. While the ERA may face political and financial hurdles, its core principle is instructive: retaining and attracting top talent requires institutional and systemic support, not just rhetoric. In a competitive global landscape, countries that fail to protect scholarly freedom risk irrelevance.

Claiming the mantle of Vishwaguru while policing or curbing scholarship is fundamentally contradictory. Excellence cannot flourish in an atmosphere of intimidation, nor can creativity thrive where censorship prevails. India must learn from domestic imperatives and global precedents, such as the ERA. Only then can it truly stand at the forefront of academic excellence, a place where scholars, foreign and domestic, are invited not merely for accolades, but for the liberty to enrich the world intellectually.