Jamia professors, student protests and the struggle over union elections: When campus order collides with representation

At Jamia Millia Islamia in Delhi, a student campaign to restore elected union representation has become a direct confrontation with the university administration and sections of its teaching staff. An Instagram reel published by @osamaakram07 on 25 October 2026 calls professors the “intellectual puppets of authoritarian power”, suggesting that faculty members are helping suppress students rather than defending academic freedom. That is a political interpretation, not a verified account of the motives of individual professors. But the actions at the centre of the criticism demand serious scrutiny.

Why students are protesting

Jamia has not held students’ union elections since its union was suspended in 2006. In October 2026, students renewed demands for its restoration, a definite election timetable and withdrawal of disciplinary measures against protesters. Five students began an indefinite hunger strike on 12 October. Reports also describe complaints about campus facilities and allegations of mistreatment by security personnel. The university has cited previous violence and disruption in explaining the union’s suspension and its present concerns about campus order.

A university can have legitimate reasons to regulate protest sites, protect other students and prevent violence. But these powers should not become a substitute for elected student representation. After roughly two decades without union elections, announcing another committee is not equivalent to setting a date for students to choose their representatives.

Committees, talks and a growing divide

On 18 October, the administration constituted a seven-member panel of senior faculty and university officials to talk to the protesters and examine their demands. University statements reported that the panel approached protesters on 19 October and held discussions with student representatives on 20 October. On 21 October, the university announced another committee to draft a constitution for a revived students’ union, considering the circumstances of the 2006 suspension, relevant court decisions and the Lyngdoh Committee recommendations. It also said disciplinary action involving protests during a specified October period would be reviewed.

These were concrete administrative steps, not evidence that officials refused all dialogue. Yet students argued that a drafting committee did not answer their central demand: when would voting actually resume? A promise to examine a problem can be a first step towards settlement, but without a credible timetable and meaningful student participation it can also leave the existing lack of representation intact.

What happened on 24 October

The dispute escalated sharply when teaching and non-teaching staff, university officials and the registrar approached the hunger-strike site after a large staff meeting. Staff and the university described their effort as an attempt to persuade students to end the agitation and leave a protest location the administration regarded as unauthorised. Student organisations alleged that staff or security personnel tried to dismantle tents, remove protesters and force hunger strikers away. These allegations should not be treated as proved against any named professor without clearer evidence of each person’s actions.

On the same day, the university shifted classes online until further notice, citing student safety and security. Campus gates and libraries were also reported closed. The administration condemned graffiti it described as objectionable and damaging to the institution, while protesters disputed responsibility for some slogans. The content, authorship and implications of particular slogans should be assessed separately from the demand for student elections.

The responsibility of professors

The reel borrows from political thinker Antonio Gramsci to argue that academics can give respectable cover to concentrated authority. It is fair to ask whether faculty members are protecting an institution’s reputation at the expense of the students whose rights it must respect. But an ideological framework cannot establish that every professor present was corrupt, coerced or knowingly committed to suppressing dissent. Teachers may have different views about safety, the protest location, union elections and the best way to negotiate.

The relevant ethical standard is more concrete. Faculty involved in university governance should protect students’ ability to organise, speak and seek fair representation while handling actual risks through proportionate and transparent measures. If staff or guards used unnecessary force against peaceful hunger strikers or dismantled a peaceful protest to end dissent, that conduct would be unjustifiable. Allegations of such force need independent assessment; mere participation in a meeting or committee is not proof of it. Equally, a blanket move to online teaching affects students beyond the protesters and requires an explanation proportionate to the risk.

What the confrontation reveals

By 25 October, the central question was not whether Jamia had announced committees—it had—but whether those steps offered a credible route back to elected student representation. The opposing claims about confrontation at the protest site remain important to investigate. The documented decision to move teaching online, and the unresolved demand for an election date, show how far the dispute has spread beyond the original hunger strike.

The reel’s sweeping accusations about professors’ personal motives are not established by the available record. Its underlying challenge, however, is serious: universities should not use the language of discipline, dignity or normalcy to indefinitely defer democratic representation, and faculty authority should be exercised with restraint and accountability. The case for restoring meaningful student representation deserves a concrete answer; safety and order cannot by themselves justify postponement without an accountable plan.