The South First: Madras: Tuesday, 24 February 2026.
Research scholars are being forced to pay ₹25,000 for thesis submission, a 250-fold increase from the previous ₹100.
The Syndicate resolution,
Senate approval, and official circular are all absent from the public record.
Just an oral instruction at the PhD section, enforced by administrative
practice and driven by the university’s financial crisis. PhD students, who cannot
question this lack of transparency, are paying the hiked fee in silence.
Since mid-2023, the University of Madras has been collecting fees under an order that
may not legally exist.
Research scholars are being forced to pay ₹25,000 for thesis submission, a 250-fold increase from the previous ₹100, based on what the university’s former Vice-Chancellor himself described as merely a “proposal”.
The Syndicate resolution, Senate approval, and official circular are all absent from public record. Just an oral instruction at the PhD section, enforced by administrative practice and driven by the university’s financial crisis. PhD students, who cannot question this lack of transparency, are paying the hiked fee in silence.
For over two years, there has been a struggle with the university, not over academic disputes, but for a single document: the written authorisation for this massive fee hike.
Evasive response
Through repeated Right to Information applications filed since October 2023, this author has demanded proof that this increase was approved as per the university’s statute.
The university’s response has been silence, evasion, and outright defiance of the State Information Commission’s orders. This opacity raises serious questions about institutional governance. It suggests an administration that, faced with financial distress, has prioritised revenue collection over due process and transparency. The burden has fallen on its most vulnerable students.
The contradiction is stark and easily verifiable. The university’s website continues to list thesis submission fees as ₹100 for full-time scholars and ₹5,000 for part-time candidates. Yet the same institution demands ₹25,000 and ₹35,000, respectively, at the point of submission. This discrepancy exists without any accompanying public circular, updated prospectus, or gazette notification that would normally accompany such a substantial revision.
Under the Madras University Act, 1923, and UGC regulations, fee revisions require Syndicate approval, Senate ratification, and public notification. The university appears to have bypassed this statutory process. This is not a matter of administrative discretion; it is ultra vires, an act beyond legal authority.
Beating about the bush
When this author filed an RTI application on 11 October 2023 seeking authorisation documents, the university’s Public Information Officer failed to respond within the mandatory 30-day period. After a first appeal, the university provided unrelated documents that did not address the fundamental question: Where is the written order authorising this fee increase?
The consistent failure to produce these documents raises a troubling possibility. Either a formal resolution authorising this hike does not exist, or the university is unwilling to subject it to public scrutiny. For an institution that has served Tamil Nadu for 169 years, such opacity regarding a 250-fold fee increase is deeply concerning.
Since this potentially unauthorised hike began in mid-2023, conservative estimates suggest at least 500 research scholars submit their theses annually (approximately 300 full-time and 200 part-time). Over three years (2023-2025), even by this modest calculation, the university has collected approximately ₹4 crore from students under this questionable fee structure.
The scale of this collection raises serious questions. If proper legal authorisation exists, why has it not been produced despite repeated RTI requests?
This is not an isolated incident of administrative confusion. It reflects a concerning pattern in how the University of Madras handles information disclosure under the RTI Act. In 2022, a Criminology Department topper had to invoke RTI to receive his rightfully earned gold medal. The university initially claimed “lack of funds”, but RTI records revealed that sufficient funds were available in the medal account. The administration had simply not acted.
Confidentially, missing!
In 2010, when an applicant sought the exam valuation manual, the university first claimed it was “confidential”. When the Information Commission rejected this justification, the response changed to the document being “missing”.
A pattern emerges: initial resistance, followed by incomplete responses, and eventual compliance only after prolonged appeals. Despite the State Information Commission directing proper disclosure in the current case, the University continues to provide inadequate replies. This suggests an institutional culture where transparency obligations are treated as inconveniences rather than legal imperatives.
Beyond the RTI struggle, a collective of concerned PhD students attempted to address this fee hike through the university’s internal mechanisms. They met with the Registrar and Dean (Research),
presenting their case for a rollback of fee hike. No substantive action followed. The students then escalated the matter beyond the campus, submitting a formal representation to the Deputy Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu. This, too, yielded no tangible outcome.
Commercialisation of education
The current crisis at the University of Madras cannot be understood in isolation. It is rooted in three decades of state higher education policy that prioritised expansion over sustainability. Successive DMK and AIADMK governments engaged in what scholars call “competitive commercialisation”.
Facing electoral pressures to expand access to higher education, the state sanctioned hundreds of self-financing engineering and arts colleges rather than strengthening existing public institutions.
By 2015-16, nearly 95% of engineering colleges in Tamil Nadu were self-financing. This strategy did improve the gross enrolment ratio (GER) in higher education, making degrees more accessible across social strata. However, this expansion came at a cost. The proliferation of self-financing colleges, deemed-to-be universities and private institutions has created a two-tier system.
Quality public university education, once the backbone of social mobility in Tamil Nadu, has been systematically under-resourced. Meanwhile, the private sector increasingly treats education as a commodity rather than a public good.
The danger is no longer theoretical. It is materialising before us. As public universities weaken financially whilst private institutions flourish, affordable quality education is rapidly becoming the preserve of the economically privileged. For students from socially and economically weaker sections, the path forward narrows to two bleak options: forgo higher education entirely, or burden themselves with crippling education debt.
We have seen this trajectory destroy an entire generation in the United States, where student
debt now exceeds $1.7 trillion and millions remain trapped in decades-long repayment cycles.
Why are we deliberately walking down this same ruinous path? Tamil Nadu built its reputation on democratising education, on creating pathways for social justice over money. Are we now prepared to dismantle that legacy, sacrificing our most vulnerable students at the altar of fiscal mismanagement?
What next?
The path forward requires three commitments. First, the University must honour its RTI obligations and produce the authorisation documents or refund the fees collected.
Second, the State government must stabilise the university’s finances without placing the burden on students.
Third, and most crucially, Tamil Nadu must ensure that state universities remain accessible to socially and economically marginalised students, particularly in PhD programmes where financial barriers are already substantial.
State universities were founded on a promise: that talent, not wealth, determines who contributes to knowledge. A 250-fold fee increase, implemented without transparency, betrays that promise. For 169 years, the University of Madras has been a ladder for social mobility. It must remain so.
(Shankar Prakash is a social and behavioural science researcher. He posts on X as @shankarprakasha. Views are personal).
Research scholars are being forced to pay ₹25,000 for thesis submission, a 250-fold increase from the previous ₹100.
 |
| The current crisis at the University of Madras is rooted in three decades of state higher education policy. (iStock) |
Since mid-2023, the University of Madras has been collecting fees under an order that
may not legally exist.
Research scholars are being forced to pay ₹25,000 for thesis submission, a 250-fold increase from the previous ₹100, based on what the university’s former Vice-Chancellor himself described as merely a “proposal”.
The Syndicate resolution, Senate approval, and official circular are all absent from public record. Just an oral instruction at the PhD section, enforced by administrative practice and driven by the university’s financial crisis. PhD students, who cannot question this lack of transparency, are paying the hiked fee in silence.
For over two years, there has been a struggle with the university, not over academic disputes, but for a single document: the written authorisation for this massive fee hike.
Evasive response
Through repeated Right to Information applications filed since October 2023, this author has demanded proof that this increase was approved as per the university’s statute.
The university’s response has been silence, evasion, and outright defiance of the State Information Commission’s orders. This opacity raises serious questions about institutional governance. It suggests an administration that, faced with financial distress, has prioritised revenue collection over due process and transparency. The burden has fallen on its most vulnerable students.
The contradiction is stark and easily verifiable. The university’s website continues to list thesis submission fees as ₹100 for full-time scholars and ₹5,000 for part-time candidates. Yet the same institution demands ₹25,000 and ₹35,000, respectively, at the point of submission. This discrepancy exists without any accompanying public circular, updated prospectus, or gazette notification that would normally accompany such a substantial revision.
Under the Madras University Act, 1923, and UGC regulations, fee revisions require Syndicate approval, Senate ratification, and public notification. The university appears to have bypassed this statutory process. This is not a matter of administrative discretion; it is ultra vires, an act beyond legal authority.
Beating about the bush
When this author filed an RTI application on 11 October 2023 seeking authorisation documents, the university’s Public Information Officer failed to respond within the mandatory 30-day period. After a first appeal, the university provided unrelated documents that did not address the fundamental question: Where is the written order authorising this fee increase?
The consistent failure to produce these documents raises a troubling possibility. Either a formal resolution authorising this hike does not exist, or the university is unwilling to subject it to public scrutiny. For an institution that has served Tamil Nadu for 169 years, such opacity regarding a 250-fold fee increase is deeply concerning.
Since this potentially unauthorised hike began in mid-2023, conservative estimates suggest at least 500 research scholars submit their theses annually (approximately 300 full-time and 200 part-time). Over three years (2023-2025), even by this modest calculation, the university has collected approximately ₹4 crore from students under this questionable fee structure.
The scale of this collection raises serious questions. If proper legal authorisation exists, why has it not been produced despite repeated RTI requests?
This is not an isolated incident of administrative confusion. It reflects a concerning pattern in how the University of Madras handles information disclosure under the RTI Act. In 2022, a Criminology Department topper had to invoke RTI to receive his rightfully earned gold medal. The university initially claimed “lack of funds”, but RTI records revealed that sufficient funds were available in the medal account. The administration had simply not acted.
Confidentially, missing!
In 2010, when an applicant sought the exam valuation manual, the university first claimed it was “confidential”. When the Information Commission rejected this justification, the response changed to the document being “missing”.
A pattern emerges: initial resistance, followed by incomplete responses, and eventual compliance only after prolonged appeals. Despite the State Information Commission directing proper disclosure in the current case, the University continues to provide inadequate replies. This suggests an institutional culture where transparency obligations are treated as inconveniences rather than legal imperatives.
Beyond the RTI struggle, a collective of concerned PhD students attempted to address this fee hike through the university’s internal mechanisms. They met with the Registrar and Dean (Research),
presenting their case for a rollback of fee hike. No substantive action followed. The students then escalated the matter beyond the campus, submitting a formal representation to the Deputy Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu. This, too, yielded no tangible outcome.
Commercialisation of education
The current crisis at the University of Madras cannot be understood in isolation. It is rooted in three decades of state higher education policy that prioritised expansion over sustainability. Successive DMK and AIADMK governments engaged in what scholars call “competitive commercialisation”.
Facing electoral pressures to expand access to higher education, the state sanctioned hundreds of self-financing engineering and arts colleges rather than strengthening existing public institutions.
By 2015-16, nearly 95% of engineering colleges in Tamil Nadu were self-financing. This strategy did improve the gross enrolment ratio (GER) in higher education, making degrees more accessible across social strata. However, this expansion came at a cost. The proliferation of self-financing colleges, deemed-to-be universities and private institutions has created a two-tier system.
Quality public university education, once the backbone of social mobility in Tamil Nadu, has been systematically under-resourced. Meanwhile, the private sector increasingly treats education as a commodity rather than a public good.
The danger is no longer theoretical. It is materialising before us. As public universities weaken financially whilst private institutions flourish, affordable quality education is rapidly becoming the preserve of the economically privileged. For students from socially and economically weaker sections, the path forward narrows to two bleak options: forgo higher education entirely, or burden themselves with crippling education debt.
We have seen this trajectory destroy an entire generation in the United States, where student
debt now exceeds $1.7 trillion and millions remain trapped in decades-long repayment cycles.
Why are we deliberately walking down this same ruinous path? Tamil Nadu built its reputation on democratising education, on creating pathways for social justice over money. Are we now prepared to dismantle that legacy, sacrificing our most vulnerable students at the altar of fiscal mismanagement?
What next?
The path forward requires three commitments. First, the University must honour its RTI obligations and produce the authorisation documents or refund the fees collected.
Second, the State government must stabilise the university’s finances without placing the burden on students.
Third, and most crucially, Tamil Nadu must ensure that state universities remain accessible to socially and economically marginalised students, particularly in PhD programmes where financial barriers are already substantial.
State universities were founded on a promise: that talent, not wealth, determines who contributes to knowledge. A 250-fold fee increase, implemented without transparency, betrays that promise. For 169 years, the University of Madras has been a ladder for social mobility. It must remain so.
(Shankar Prakash is a social and behavioural science researcher. He posts on X as @shankarprakasha. Views are personal).
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