There is something profoundly disturbing about a premier film and television institute becoming a battlefield for competing political ideologies. The Satyajit Ray Film and Television Institute (SRFTI) in Kolkata was established to nurture cinematic imagination, artistic experimentation and intellectual independence. Its purpose is to train filmmakers capable of questioning conventions, challenging established truths and exploring the contradictions of society. Yet in September and October 2026 the institute found itself trapped in a confrontation involving students, outside political organisations, its own administration and the wider machinery of partisan politics.
The immediate trigger was a violent confrontation on 27 September, followed by further tensions in October. Students alleged that members of an RSS-linked organisation attacked them on their campus. The organisation and its supporters accused students of disrupting a legitimately organised programme, assaulting participants and damaging property. Subsequent protests, disciplinary proceedings, the closure of academic facilities and the involvement of the police have deepened the crisis.
Scrutiny is necessary. Partisan cheerleading is not. To describe the SRFTI controversy as an existential crisis caused solely by right-wing attacks is to offer an emotionally satisfying explanation at the expense of a more difficult investigation. Conversely, to dismiss the students as ideological troublemakers who deserve whatever punishment the administration imposes is equally simplistic. The more important questions are these: how did a national institution dedicated to artistic freedom arrive at a point where its classrooms, hostels and administrative offices became arenas of political confrontation? And why has its leadership proved unable to restore confidence, security and normal academic life?
The Auditorium That Became a Political Battleground
According to the accounts presented, the Akhil Bharatiya Grahak Panchayat, an organisation associated with the RSS ideological ecosystem, had booked SRFTI’s main auditorium for a programme. The organisation maintained that the booking was legitimate and that the necessary permission and payment had been obtained. Students objected, questioning the absence of adequate prior communication with the student community and expressing concern about the appropriateness of hosting a politically associated organisation on their campus.
The disagreement escalated into violence. Students alleged that members of the visiting group attacked them with sticks, stones and other objects, accompanied by verbal abuse and accusations that they were anti-national. Allegations also included assaults on women and the use of a sharp weapon. The visiting organisation advanced a contrary account, alleging that students disrupted the programme, attacked attendees, damaged property and disrespected images of Swami Vivekananda and Bharat Mata. Complaints and counter-complaints followed. Injuries were reported on both sides, and police were deployed.
These allegations are serious. An allegation, however dramatically presented, is not a judicial finding. Without the conclusions of an independent investigation it would be irresponsible to pronounce either side solely responsible for initiating the violence. Nevertheless one principle admits no ambiguity: a legitimate booking does not confer a licence to intimidate, while ideological opposition does not confer a licence to assault.
If the event had been properly authorised, students could have challenged its organisation through peaceful protest, representations to the administration or other lawful means. If the visitors used violence, they must be held accountable. If students attacked participants or damaged property, they too must face proportionate disciplinary or legal consequences. The law cannot become a weapon that one political constituency is entitled to wield while another is expected to endure it. That is precisely why an impartial investigation matters.
The Right to Enter Is Not the Right to Intimidate
Does an organisation that secures permission to use an auditorium acquire an unrestricted right to conduct its programme without regard to the institution’s educational character, security arrangements or legitimate concerns about campus disruption? Clearly not. Equally, do students acquire a veto over every event involving an organisation whose ideology they dislike? Again, no.
A specialist educational institute cannot operate if every visiting speaker or organisation must first obtain ideological clearance from the most vocal section of its student population. Nor can it remain intellectually credible if outside organisations are permitted to use its premises in ways that intimidate students or turn an academic campus into a stage for partisan mobilisation. The distinction is between access and intimidation, between dissent and coercion, and between lawful protest and political vigilantism.
An institution’s administration must establish clear rules governing the use of its facilities. These rules should apply equally to organisations across the political spectrum. If a programme is authorised, the administration must explain the basis of its decision, communicate the relevant arrangements and ensure adequate security. If objections arise, it must provide a credible mechanism for addressing them. What it cannot do is allow a dispute over an auditorium to become a confrontation in which students and visitors effectively settle their differences through physical force. That is not freedom of expression. It is the failure of governance.
When the Administration Loses Its Moral Authority
The role of SRFTI’s administration, headed by Vice-Chancellor Santosh Ajmera, is central to the unfolding controversy. Students have accused the administration of failing to protect them during the initial confrontation, refusing to address their concerns adequately and subsequently targeting protesters through disciplinary proceedings. They have demanded independent investigations, security guarantees and the Vice-Chancellor’s resignation.
The administration has alleged serious misconduct by students, including the manhandling of the Vice-Chancellor, the occupation and vandalism of his office, damage to property, obscene graffiti and other acts of indiscipline. An institute report has reportedly documented allegations against students, while six students have faced rustication or expulsion.
These are not trivial matters. If students assaulted the Vice-Chancellor, vandalised his office or deliberately damaged institutional property, such conduct cannot be excused merely because they were protesting against an administration they distrusted. A protest does not become morally unimpeachable simply because its participants invoke resistance.
Yet the administration cannot expect unquestioning obedience either. Its authority rests not merely on its formal position but on the credibility, fairness and consistency with which it exercises that authority. If the administration failed to protect students from an external attack, that failure requires examination. If disciplinary action was selective, disproportionate or unsupported by reliable evidence, that too requires examination. If students occupied offices, threatened officials or damaged property, those allegations must be investigated independently. The same standards must govern everyone.
An administration that punishes dissent without establishing responsibility becomes authoritarian. A student movement that treats every administrative decision as illegitimate becomes unaccountable. Neither can sustain an institution devoted to intellectual freedom.
The reported closure of classes, hostels and mess facilities has made matters worse. Students have been ordered to vacate facilities, and academic activities have been disrupted. Whatever the justification offered for these measures, their consequences deserve serious consideration. Students enrolled at a national institute have a legitimate expectation that their education will not be indefinitely derailed by a confrontation that the institution is responsible for helping resolve. Closing classrooms may temporarily reduce the number of people on campus. It does not resolve the grievances that produced the confrontation. An administration can suspend a timetable. It cannot suspend the need for accountability.
The Politics of Saffronisation and the Politics of Overreaction
The confrontation has acquired significance beyond SRFTI because it fits into a much wider political struggle over cultural institutions. The BJP and the RSS have long faced accusations that they seek to reshape India’s educational and cultural institutions according to a particular ideological vision. Their supporters counter that institutions historically dominated by left-liberal intellectuals have marginalised alternative viewpoints and that greater ideological diversity is necessary. Both arguments deserve examination on their merits.
It is legitimate to question whether cultural institutions have become ideologically homogeneous. It is equally legitimate to question whether attempts to correct that imbalance are being pursued through political pressure, partisan appointments or the normalisation of ideological conformity. But the answer to one form of ideological dominance cannot be another.
A film institute must accommodate diverse political and cultural perspectives without becoming the captive of any political organisation. Its students should be free to make films that challenge religious orthodoxy, criticise governments, explore uncomfortable historical questions or examine the lives of communities that mainstream cinema neglects. They should also be free to create work that explores religious belief, civilisational traditions and national identity. The test is not whether a film pleases the government, the opposition, the RSS, the Left or a student union. The test is whether its creators can pursue their artistic vision without intimidation or arbitrary punishment.
That principle becomes especially important when outside political organisations enter an educational campus. Their presence is not automatically illegitimate. Neither is opposition to their presence automatically anti-national. Calling protesting students anti-national, urban Naxals or similar epithets does not answer their objections. It attempts to discredit the objectors before their arguments have been examined. But students must resist the temptation to deploy equally sweeping labels against every person associated with a contrary ideology. A democracy cannot survive if disagreement is routinely transformed into a contest between patriots and traitors.
The Dangerous Convenience of Political Labels
The events of 4 October, when supporters of the Hindu Jagran Manch reportedly gathered outside the institute amid allegations of disrespect towards images of Vivekananda and Bharat Mata, further intensified tensions. Reports described attempts to breach the campus perimeter and the throwing of stones or bottles, with police intervention. These allegations, too, require verification. Nevertheless the episode illustrates the danger of allowing symbolic disputes to escalate into physical confrontations.
Swami Vivekananda’s legacy cannot be adequately defended by intimidating students. Nor does criticism of an image, a political organisation or an ideological programme automatically constitute hostility towards the nation. National symbols and revered historical figures deserve neither compulsory political endorsement nor deliberate provocation designed to inflame religious or cultural sentiments. The proper response to a genuine grievance is lawful complaint, peaceful protest and reasoned argument.
The same standard applies to students who use provocative graffiti, offensive language or acts of vandalism to express political opposition. Such actions may attract attention, but they can also undermine the credibility of a movement and provide its opponents with a convenient justification for punitive action. Political symbolism becomes particularly dangerous when each side assumes that its own outrage is evidence of its own innocence. The question is not which side can generate the loudest indignation. It is which side can substantiate its claims.
Why Is the Crisis Being Reduced to a Right-Wing Conspiracy?
Prominent figures from the film industry, including Naseeruddin Shah and Anurag Kashyap, have expressed support for students or amplified concerns about the controversy. Their interventions have helped draw public attention to the dispute. Such support can be valuable. Artists have a legitimate interest in defending freedom of expression and the independence of cultural institutions. But celebrity solidarity cannot substitute for evidence.
The assertion that SRFTI is facing an existential crisis solely because of right-wing aggression goes beyond what the publicly described circumstances establish. The institute is experiencing a serious crisis of governance, campus security and academic continuity. Whether the initial violence was organised, politically motivated or initiated by a particular group must be established through evidence rather than inference. Similarly, the administration’s account cannot be accepted uncritically merely because it appears in an official report. Official authority is not a guarantee of impartiality, just as student activism is not a guarantee of factual accuracy.
The state government has reportedly established a Special Investigation Team to investigate the initial confrontation. Its findings, along with the relevant police records, institutional documents and testimony from witnesses, should help clarify the disputed events. The public deserves answers. Who initiated the physical violence? What do medical records and contemporaneous evidence establish? Were campus security arrangements adequate? Did the administration respond appropriately? Were disciplinary proceedings based on independently verifiable evidence? Were visiting organisations subjected to the same rules that would apply to comparable organisations with different political affiliations? Until these questions are answered, categorical declarations of innocence or guilt serve political interests more effectively than they serve the truth.
The Students Must Not Become What They Oppose
There is an uncomfortable lesson here for student movements. The history of student activism includes courageous struggles against authoritarianism, censorship, discrimination and political repression. Students have often defended freedoms that established institutions were unwilling to protect. But the historical nobility of student protest does not make every action undertaken in its name legitimate.
If students assaulted people, vandalised offices, threatened administrators or prevented others from exercising lawful rights, they cannot evade responsibility by invoking resistance to saffronisation. Nor should disciplinary proceedings become a mechanism for silencing legitimate criticism. The appropriate response is to distinguish peaceful protesters from individuals responsible for specific acts of violence or vandalism. Evidence must establish individual responsibility, and penalties must be proportionate to the misconduct proved. Collective punishment is particularly dangerous because it replaces the examination of individual conduct with the punishment of a group.
The same principle applies to political organisations operating outside the campus. Responsibility for violence must be established against those who committed, encouraged or facilitated it, rather than indiscriminately attributed to everyone who shares their ideological affiliations. Justice requires precision. Political vendettas thrive on generalisation.
Restore the Institute Before Politics Destroys Its Purpose
The most immediate victims of this deadlock may ultimately be the students whose education is being interrupted. Film-making is not merely a theoretical discipline. It requires collaborative work, access to equipment, practical exercises, screenings, rehearsals and sustained engagement with teachers and fellow students. An extended shutdown can damage training that cannot simply be recovered by announcing a new timetable. The institute’s reputation is also at stake. A premier national institution cannot indefinitely remain in the headlines for allegations of violence, administrative paralysis and political confrontation.
The way forward is neither complicated nor ideologically partisan. First, the investigation into the initial clash must be transparent, credible and sufficiently independent to command public confidence. Secondly, allegations of assault, vandalism and misconduct must be examined separately, with the evidence disclosed to the extent legally permissible. Disciplinary action should follow established procedures and allow those accused a fair opportunity to respond. Thirdly, the administration must establish enforceable security protocols for campus events, including clear rules governing external organisations, advance communication, risk assessment and emergency responses. Fourthly, academic activities and essential student facilities must be restored as quickly as safety permits. Any restrictions should be justified, proportionate and regularly reviewed. Finally, the administration and student representatives must enter structured dialogue, preferably with a credible independent facilitator if mutual trust has collapsed.
The objective should not be to manufacture a political victor. It should be to restore an institution in which disagreement can occur without intimidation, violence or retaliation.
Conclusion: A Film Institute Is Not a Political Fortress
The SRFTI controversy is not simply a story of right-wing aggression, nor is it merely a story of unruly students challenging legitimate authority. It is a test of whether India’s public institutions can withstand the pressures of polarised politics.
If external organisations used intimidation or violence against students, they must face the consequences. If students resorted to assault or vandalism, they must face the consequences. If the administration failed in its duty to protect the campus, apply rules fairly or maintain academic continuity, it must answer for those failures. No political affiliation should provide immunity. No ideological commitment should provide an excuse.
The larger danger is that institutions designed to cultivate independent minds are increasingly judged by whether they serve the political narratives of competing camps. One camp may describe every protest as anti-national. Another may describe every disciplinary action as fascism. Both formulations offer the comfort of certainty while evading the hard work of establishing facts.
The tragedy is that the students, teachers and administrators of SRFTI should be debating cinema, storytelling, aesthetics, technology and the moral responsibilities of art. Instead they are caught in a confrontation in which political identity threatens to eclipse educational purpose.
Satyajit Ray’s legacy was not built on obedience to authority or the mechanical repetition of ideological slogans. It was built on observation, complexity, human dignity and the courage to look at society without convenient illusions. An institute bearing his name should be judged by those standards.
The real existential danger is not that one political ideology may temporarily prevail over another. It is that an institution dedicated to independent artistic thought may lose the capacity to defend independence itself. And when that happens, the casualties are not merely the reputations of politicians, administrators or student leaders. They are the freedom to imagine, the courage to question and the education of an entire generation.
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