Do academics in Kashmir stop pursuing and publishing research after securing permanent positions?
Dr. Ashraf Zainabi
In the picturesque yet complex region of Jammu and Kashmir, where institutions of higher learning are seen as gateways to enlightenment, a troubling pattern has quietly taken root—one that threatens the integrity and future of academic scholarship. A growing concern within the academic and policy circles is this: Do faculty members, particularly Assistant Professors, drastically reduce or altogether cease their research and publication efforts after securing permanent government positions?
While exceptions do exist—and they deserve applause—the broader trend is undeniable. In Kashmir, many newly permanent faculty members in Government Degree Colleges (GDCs) and even in some universities often retreat from the research arena after their probation ends. The excitement of knowledge creation, once visible during their contractual or early-career days, often dims in the comfort of job security. This is not merely a personal failing; it reflects a deeper systemic malaise.
Unlike many global academic institutions where productivity is monitored and incentivized through transparent and dynamic appraisal systems, the academic institutions in Kashmir—particularly GDCs—largely lack mechanisms that assess research quality and quantity beyond the occasional promotions under the Career Advancement Scheme (CAS).
Even within the CAS structure, the emphasis is often on any publication—regardless of quality, peer review status, or real impact. Faculty members easily meet their promotion criteria through publications in obscure, sometimes even predatory journals. The bar is low and often reduced further by internal committees that lack subject-specific expertise or ethical commitment.
As a result, the environment fosters a dangerous message: the moment you secure a permanent job, your role as a researcher becomes optional. Several reasons explain this decline in academic output post-permanency. Once an individual becomes a permanent government employee, the threat of job loss is nearly nonexistent. With no meaningful post-appointment review of academic activity, there’s little incentive to strive.
Most degree colleges lack basic research infrastructure—no laboratories, no dedicated research spaces, no journal access, and no administrative support for grant writing or field work. In this vacuum, the effort required to maintain research momentum is often seen as not worth the trouble. Many faculty members are burdened with non-academic administrative duties—coordinating NAAC files, drafting compliance reports, managing student data, organizing college events. These bureaucratic tasks are time-consuming and mentally draining, leaving little room for creative or analytical thinking.
A large number of permanent faculty members are stationed in remote colleges with no interdisciplinary dialogue, peer research circles, or university linkages. Their academic life becomes solitary and uninspired. Perhaps most troubling is the near-total absence of a culture that values or rewards genuine inquiry. Faculty meetings rarely include presentations of research work. College websites often carry no record of ongoing research. Students graduate without having seen their teachers write or present papers. In such an environment, the very idea of research withers away. This silence from academic platforms has real consequences.
First, it weakens the quality of teaching. When teachers stop engaging with the latest research, they deliver stale lectures based on outdated material. Students receive an education frozen in time. Second, it diminishes institutional prestige. Universities and colleges build their reputations on knowledge production. When research dries up, so does the intellectual vibrancy that attracts both students and funding. Third, it deprives society of solutions. Kashmir, with its unique socio-political, ecological, and developmental challenges, urgently needs policy-relevant research. From climate change to mental health, from education reform to gender justice—there is no dearth of urgent questions. But there is a shortage of academic voices tackling them. Fourth, it fuels cynicism. When younger academics see that research is neither expected nor rewarded, and that promotions depend more on paperwork than performance, they too lower their standards.
“Academics in Kashmir must choose between comfortable complacency and a more demanding, but meaningful, life of scholarship and public contribution. The future of higher education and Kashmir itself depends on whether faculty and institutions embrace a culture of excellence and rediscover the joy of research. Kashmir’s academic future is at a crossroads. Its academics must choose active, meaningful scholarship over complacency to revitalize the region’s intellectual heritage and secure its future.”
Despite these grim trends, a few faculty members do stand tall. They continue to publish in reputed national and international journals, mentor PhD candidates, secure research grants, and present at conferences. These are the academics who pursue knowledge not as a requirement, but as a calling. Interestingly, such individuals often cite intrinsic motivation, exposure to global academia, or early mentorship as the reasons for their continued engagement. They operate not because the system demands it, but in spite of the system’s indifference. They are the exception. And unless the system learns from them, they will remain just that—exceptions. Yes, but it will take institutional courage and a cultural shift. Here’s how. Every college and university should publish an annual research report listing papers, projects, conferences, and citations. This simple transparency mechanism can encourage self-regulation.
The Scopus, Web of science and UGC CARE list and similar benchmarks must be strictly followed. Promotions based on substandard journals must be questioned. Offer financial rewards, reduced teaching loads, and travel grants to those who publish in credible journals or present at quality conferences. Create active research cells within each department where faculty members share ideas, review drafts, and support one another. Academic administrators—Principals, HODs, Directors—should be appointed based on merit, including research track records, not just seniority. GDCs can be linked with universities to co-host projects, allowing college faculty to access better labs and mentorship. Final-year projects, internships, and independent research modules can revive interest in research among both faculty and students.
The government has invested heavily in higher education infrastructure in J&K—new campuses, additional colleges, digital classrooms. But hardware alone cannot ignite academic transformation. The software—i.e., the mindset of inquiry, rigor, and accountability—is sorely missing. Civil society, the media, and students must begin to ask tougher questions. Not just how many classes were held, but how many ideas were tested? Not how many promotions were granted, but how many papers contributed new knowledge? Kashmir deserves an academic culture that mirrors its resilience, beauty, and complexity. One that is alive, engaged, and honest. In the final analysis, academics in Kashmir stand at a crossroads. One road leads to complacency, insulated by the comfort of job security. The other leads to a more demanding, but far more meaningful life of scholarship, reflection, and public contribution. Will the institutions push their faculty toward excellence? Will faculty members rediscover the joy of research beyond mere promotions? Or will we continue to witness the slow academic erosion of a region that once led the way in poetry, philosophy, and learning? The answer may well determine not just the future of higher education in Kashmir, but the future of Kashmir itself.
(The author is a teacher and a researcher based in Gowhar Pora Chadoora of Central Kashmir’s Budgam district. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the author and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)
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