The recent controversy surrounding the 15th Convocation of Manipur University has raised serious questions that go beyond administrative procedure and enter the realm of moral accountability. At the heart of the issue lies not merely a bureaucratic lapse, but a troubling reflection of how institutions engage with the cultural legacy they are entrusted to uphold.
When Aribam Syam Sharma—a towering figure in Manipuri cinema—describes the university’s actions as “humiliating,” the remark demands careful consideration. This is not the grievance of an individual seeking recognition, but a statement that underscores a perceived erosion of institutional dignity. The decision to withhold honorary doctorates that were reportedly approved in 2022, and to proceed with the convocation regardless, signals a disconnect between formal resolutions and their ethical execution.
Honorary degrees are not mere ceremonial embellishments. They are instruments through which academic institutions acknowledge contributions that transcend conventional scholarship—especially in fields like theatre, cinema, and indigenous cultural practices. By failing to confer these honours upon individuals such as Ratan Thiyam and Sougaijam Thanil Singh—both of whom have since passed away—the university has arguably missed a solemn opportunity. Posthumous recognition, in such cases, carries even greater weight, serving as an institutional gesture of remembrance and respect.
The moral concern deepens when the justification offered appears, as alleged, to question the “deserving” nature of these figures. Such a claim does not withstand scrutiny. Ratan Thiyam’s global stature in theatre and Sougaijam Thanil Singh’s contributions to a deeply rooted cultural tradition are matters of record, not opinion. To retroactively cast doubt on their merit risks diminishing not only their legacy but also the credibility of the institution itself.
Universities occupy a unique moral space. They are not only centres of learning but also custodians of intellectual and cultural heritage. Decisions taken within such institutions are expected to reflect integrity, consistency, and independence from external pressures. Allegations of political interference, whether substantiated or not, introduce a perception of compromised autonomy. Even the appearance of such influence can erode public trust.
The subsequent attempt to justify the decision through a public notification further complicates the matter. If, as suggested, the explanation inadvertently validates claims of last-minute intervention, then the issue is no longer about a single convocation but about institutional coherence. Transparency, while essential, must be accompanied by accountability; otherwise, it risks becoming a tool for rationalisation rather than clarification.
There is also an ethical dimension to timing. With two of the proposed awardees no longer alive, the delay has transformed what could have been a moment of celebration into one of regret. Institutions must recognise that honour deferred can, in certain contexts, become honour denied.
Aribam Syam Sharma’s appeal—described poignantly as “an old man’s plea”—is less about personal grievance and more about collective dignity. It calls upon the university to reflect on its role in shaping how society values its cultural torchbearers. Silence or inaction in such moments risks normalising a pattern where recognition becomes contingent rather than principled.
Ultimately, the question before Manipur University is not procedural but moral: whether it sees itself as a passive administrator of degrees or as an active guardian of the region’s intellectual and cultural conscience. Restoring trust will require more than explanation; it will require a reaffirmation of values that place merit, respect, and integrity above expediency.
In matters of honour, institutions are judged not only by what they confer, but by what they choose to withhold—and why.