Education is a blessing that ought to be a means of personal growth, intellectual development, and service to humanity. However, in Kashmir, it is increasingly treated as a means to measure social prestige and superiority over others. A person’s worth is often judged by the degree they hold, the profession they pursue, and the marriage prospects their qualifications and professions can secure.
This mind-set reflects a form of intellectual elitism: the belief that certain academic fields and professions make those who pursue them superior to others and inherently more intelligent, capable or worthy than others. This attitude manifests itself in snobbery, condescension especially towards those people who lack any formal training in any professional field. There is also a growing emphasis on medicine, pressure to pursue it as a route to societal acceptance and a tendency to belittle students who choose humanities, arts or social science.
In many Kashmiri households, society has become an authority almost like God. This is not a theological statement but a depiction of a concerning social reality in which the approval of society becomes the ultimate benchmark of success. Education, which ought to sharpen our conscience, consciousness, cultivate responsibility, broaden horizons, is reduced to a means of fulfilling society’s expectations.
The Quran repeatedly calls upon human beings to reflect, understand, and consider the signs of creation by using Aql (intellect). Yet the value of learning can be obscured when its objective becomes earning praise from society. Paradoxically, Kashmiri society, consciously or unconsciously claims to uphold Islamic values.
The Islamic intellectual heritage of 14th century Kashmir offers a reason to ponder on the purpose of knowledge. The Sufi traditions associated with region’s Islamic history cannot be reduced to mere outward religious practices but also encompass intellectual and cultural advancements. Similarly, the intellectual traditions of Abbasid period, golden period of Islam, encompassed fields such as mathematics, medicine, astronomy, geography, philosophy alongside religious scholarship. These examples remind us that learning was not about societal approval but a means to develop oneself and contribute to society.
The question for contemporary Kashmiri society to ponder over is not simply securing the academic degrees that lead to prestige and higher income but whether our understanding of education still values creativity, inquiry, service, and moral responsibility.
The Commercialization of Education and the Fascination with Social Prestige
A pressing concern in contemporary Kashmir about education is the association between academic achievement and material success. Financial independence is no doubt a necessity and there is nothing wrong with parents wanting their children to become financially secure. However, the problem arises when education is valued only for the status and income it can provide, particularly when its rewards are reduced to a narrow selection of socially celebrated professions.
Children are encouraged to pursue education less for their personal and intellectual growth and more for the recognition that a particular academic Degree can bring to their families. A daughter’s admission to a medical college or a son’s success in KAS exams may become a source of family pride. These professions are no doubt valuable, but the social prestige associated with it should not reduce their qualifications as family trophies for display or make other career choices seem inferior.
This is where the difference between intellectual elitism and education becomes significant. Education should help children discover their potential, increase calibre, make them humble and respect others regardless of their status but intellectual elitism launches a hierarchy of human worth based on academic and professional labels.
A doctor in Kashmir is celebrated while a PhD student of History, Political Science etc may be overlooked. A civil servant aspirant may be admired for the ambition, while someone choosing to be a 10+2 teacher may be considered insufficiently ambitious. The value of a person is tied to the recognition attached to their profession. Such an attitude does not only influence career decisions but also shapes how children see themselves and become judgemental.
The Culture of MBBS: When One Profession Becomes an Obligation
One of the clearest examples of intellectual elitism in Kashmir is the overwhelming cultural emphasis on MBBS. Medicine is undoubtedly a valuable profession. Doctors serve communities and lessen suffering in ways that deserve respect. The problem is not the profession itself, but the assumption that someone who does not pursue MBBS cannot embody intelligence, achievement or bring pride to their parents. For most of the Kashmiri children, studying medicine is not presented as a career option, but as an inevitable part of life.
The pressure can be heard in day-to-day life: “This person is a doctor. Our neighbour’s daughter has secured highest position in NEET. You must do it anyhow. It will measure your worth. It will make us proud.” These statements may come from good intentions. Parents want their children to have a means of earning a livelihood, particularly in a world where financial demands extend beyond basic necessities. However, their repeated emphasis can transform a child’s educational journey into an obligation enforced by others. Students passionate about other fields may be perceived as less intelligent or discouraged to work hard.
The tragedy is not that someone does not become a doctor, but that many children are made to feel that they must become one to please society and prove their worth. Educational institutions, especially coaching centres, reinforce MBBS as the best career path. When students fail to secure admission to medical colleges in Kashmir despite dedicating years to this taxing field, the emotional toll can be immense. Families adhere to this dream by sending their children abroad. Countries like Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Bangladesh, Kazakhstan and Iran have become places to escape the shame and raise high in the society.
Additionally, when a profession is imposed through constant comparison, even a child who might develop a genuine interest in medicine may begin to associate it with anxiety, pressure, inevitability, fear of failure and the prospect of disappointing their family. Concurrently, the primary motivation to pursue a profession that demands patience, compassion, intellectual curiosity and commitment should not be merely social expectations.
The same pressure can affect arts students who are expected to pursue civil services because teaching, research or other careers are insufficiently distinguished. Instead of letting them explore the diversity of careers, they are pushed towards another socially acceptable destination. This does not celebrate education; but it reduces it to competition for status.
Intellectual Elitism and Marriage
In many Kashmiri households, intellectual elitism is deeply intertwined with marriage expectations. Marriage prospects are closely associated with wealth, the socially acceptable status of bride or groom, and of course, the family surname. High profile occupations, particularly those linked to medicine and civil services, can carry considerable weight when looking for a match. These factors often overshadow character, mutual respect and compatibility making professional prestige measure of personal worth.
A daughter may repeatedly hear that she must study, secure a respectable profession and become financially independent so that she secures a socially prestigious marriage. Yet, history demonstrates that marital success has never depended solely on the professional status of the couple.
Additionally, there is an important truth within these concerns: education prevents economic vulnerability, while financial independence provides financial security and allows people to contribute to families and societies. However, this message becomes distorted when children are taught that their dignity, security and future relationships depend on attaining a social status.
A familiar saying attributed to Kashmiri mothers captures this attitude:
“Goadue likhyu paryu, banyu kenh, patt chie evaa baden baden doctoran hend rishtie” (Pursue your education, then get a good job; once you are financially independent, you will get marriage proposals from affluent doctors)
Moreover, the problem is not parents wanting their children to marry educated or financially independent prospects. It is the idea imposed on them that education is a route for acquiring a higher status spouse and that a person’s own professional identity is valuable partly because of the marriage paths it opens. Especially, when it comes to daughters, their achievements risk becoming credentials in the marriage market rather than reflecting their intellectual development, personal agency, or the true value of their education.
Likewise, men seeking financially independent women as an addition to their own financial standing, rather than recognizing them as individuals with their own independent aspirations and deserving of equal respect. Hence, Kashmiri parents must ask themselves whether they are educating their daughters to become independent human beings or merely preparing them to meet the standards of a “prestigious” marriage.
Education in Islam: A Responsibility, not a Display of Superiority
The understanding of knowledge in Islam extends beyond academic achievement and emphasizes the pursuit of meaningful knowledge, the importance of teaching, and the development of moral character alongside intellectual growth.
A narration from ‘Abdullah bin ‘Amr describes Prophet Muhammad (SAW) encountering two gatherings in the mosque: one reciting Qur’an and supplicating to Allah, and the other learning and teaching. He praised both the gatherings but said of the latter,” Verily I have been sent as a teacher.” He then joined those learning and teaching. (Sunan Ibn Majah)
The narration above emphasizes the importance of seeking knowledge and sharing it with others. It is a virtuous act that Islam encourages everyone to pursue. The Quranic concepts of reflection, justice, understanding the signs of creation invite people to approach the world with intellectual curiosity and moral responsibility. The natural sciences, human sciences, humanities, and religious studies can all help us understand and contribute to the various facets of human existence, even though they don’t answer the same questions or run through same methods.
The pursuit of knowledge should deepen a person’s understanding and a sense of responsibility before Allah, not encourage a feeling of superiority over others. No academic field be it medicine, religion, or social science automatically makes a person humble or superior. No doubt, knowledge is meant to cultivate ethics in us, but ultimately, how we behave after acquiring knowledge depends on our inner disposition, conscience, conduct and free will that Allah has bestowed upon us. This is a significant distinction that parents must learn to inculcate in their children.
Education should not be pursued to defeat relatives, silence critics or establish dominance in society. It should be pursued to seek true knowledge, value that knowledge, develop one’s intellect, earn a lawful livelihood and contribute to the well-being of others, because knowledge is both virtue and worship before Allah.
The Psychological Cost of Intellectual Elitism
Intellectual elitism can also affect youth’s emotional development. Youth’s relationship with education can become dominated by fear when their self-worth is tied to academic results. An examination becomes a quick judgement for their intelligence, social standing and family honour rather than an opportunity to demonstrate learning.
Competitive exams like NEET or civil services exam involve demanding preparation and uncertain results. Yet, failure, which is a possible part of any competitive process, can become difficult to cope with when students’ results are treated as a reflection of the entire family’s prestige, leaving the student in a quandary about their own worth and identity.
Constant comparisons can also create a sense of inadequacy, disregard and jealousy. They discourage intellectual curiosity, and children may begin to see their peers as rivals. Hence, forcing young people to pursue something that will prevent them from criticism should not be justified.
Additionally, the inability of Kashmiri parents to accept failure discourages students from taking intellectual risks. They may avoid exams because they are taught that their worth depends on never failing, making them image conscious. Yet learning requires the freedom to ask questions, make mistakes and try again. Parents can have high expectations without making children’s love and dignity conditional on material achievement.
Resilience grows when children are taught to face setbacks constructively. Education should not merely prepare them to succeed in exams, but also help them become individuals capable of facing uncertainty, learning from mistakes and making responsible decisions.
Reclaiming the Purpose of Education
Kashmir needs to reflect on the education culture it is creating. When youngsters are encouraged to pursue education primarily for personal pride and prestige, purpose of education turns an individual possession rather than a means of contributing to society at large.
Inherently, there is nothing wrong with personal achievement, ambition or financial success. These can be valuable and compatible with Islamic ethics, but the concern lies in the absence of broader purpose behind education. Kashmiri parents and teachers can encourage youngsters to pursue knowledge to address the social challenges, grow as an indispensable part of society, develop conscience, rather than simply secure recognition and status.
These expectations can pass from one generation to the next. A child repeatedly taught that true success in life is measured by being a doctor may grow up imposing the same mind-set in their children. Similarly, someone made to feel inferior for opting a field other than medicine may unknowingly pass the same prejudice to their children. Intellectual elitism therefore can become an intergenerational pattern.
The change begins with a different understanding of achievement. Earning a livelihood is important and education helps us attain it. Academic excellence deserves acknowledgement, but a person without a degree can possess integrity and wisdom.
Hence, Kashmiris need not to abandon academic excellence, ambition, the pursuit of financial independence or the respect for medicine, and civil services. What needs to change is the hierarchy through which society assigns worth to individual and disciplines. Educational achievement should not be confused with human superiority.
If we genuinely want to reclaim the Islamic value of knowledge, we must teach young people to pursue it with humility rather than using it as a tool for self-glorification. The question is not whether we become doctors, engineers, civil servants or teachers. The question is whether we are learning ethics through the pursuit of these professions. Perhaps the first place to begin is not our schools or universities but our homes, in the language we use with our children.
(The Author is a graduate of International Islamic University Malaysia)
