As climate justice activists, policy analysts and socially conscious citizens from Jammu, we have closely observed how our mountainous, disaster-prone region marked by its remoteness and difficult terrain continues to suffer from an overstretched and inadequate public health system. The doctor-to-population ratio remains low and the number of medical seats available to local students remains abysmally low.In such a context, the closure of the Shri Mata Vaishno Devi Institute of Medical Excellence (SMVDIME) in Katra is not just an administrative decision, it is a serious setback to public health capacity in a fragile region.What makes this episode unprecedented in independent India is not merely that a medical college was shut down, but that sections of society celebrated its closure. This reveals how deeply ideological battles have overtaken the everyday needs of people.Amid the tussle between the ruling party in the Union territory and the ruling party in New Delhi – one that, despite being in opposition in the UT exercises disproportionate influence due to the lieutenant governor system and its political dominance in Jammu – the real casualty has been the public interest.What officially happenedOn paper, the National Medical Commission’s decision is clear. Following a surprise inspection, it withdrew permission for the 2025-26 MBBS batch, citing serious deficiencies: faculty shortages, inadequate labs and a library, low patient load and bed occupancy far below mandated norms. Students already admitted will be adjusted as supernumerary students in other government medical colleges in Jammu and Kashmir.Regulatory oversight is essential and medical education cannot be compromised. But stopping the conversation at procedural deficiencies raises an important question: was the inspection shaped by a political and social agitation or over low academic standards?What triggered the agitationThe immediate trigger for the agitation was not infrastructure, faculty strength or patient care but the composition of the admission list. Of the 50 MBBS seats allotted strictly on merit, 42 went to Muslim students, most from Kashmir, seven to Hindus and one to a Sikh student.This outcome provoked a sustained campaign claiming that since the institution was built using funds donated by Hindu devotees of the Vaishno Devi shrine, Hindus must dominate admissions to the medical college.Shri Mata Vaishno Devi Sangarsh Samiti chairman Colonel Sukhbir Singh Mankotia (sitting, second from left) addresses the media regarding the National Medical Commission’s decision to withdraw permission for the SMVD Institute of Medical Excellence for non-compliance with minimum standards on January 7, 2026. Photo: PTI.This argument, emotionally charged but legally indefensible, transformed a merit-based admission process into a communal flashpoint.Even with just 50 MBBS seats, SMVDIME would not have revolutionised the region’s healthcare overnight. But it would have been something tangible: rather than nothing, a foothold for public health in Reasi district and beyond, opportunities for the youth and improved access to healthcare for local communities. In a region where unemployment is high and public infrastructure stretched thin, such institutions matter immensely.What the Constitution allows and what it doesn’tUnder Indian constitutional law, minority rights do not extend to restructuring admissions in government-run institutions. Article 30 of the Constitution protects the right of minorities to establish and administer their own educational institutions; it does not apply to colleges established, funded and governed by the state or a statutory authority. Public medical colleges are bound by Articles 14 and 15, which guarantee equality before law and prohibit discrimination on religious grounds.Admissions conducted through NEET, a centralised and statutorily mandated examination, carry strong constitutional protection and cannot be altered post-selection to satisfy communal or political demands. Even where communities are a minority within the Union territory, minority status does not translate into exclusive claims over public institutions.Any attempt to impose religion-based reservation in such colleges would not withstand judicial scrutiny.The admission list at SMVDIME followed the law. If a merit-based outcome such as at this institution unsettles society, the problem lies not with merit but with our discomfort.Political abdicationDisturbingly, political leadership failed to intervene constructively. Neither the chief minister of Jammu and Kashmir, nor the main opposition party the BJP, nor the leadership of the nearly 60 organisations that spearheaded protests over the admissions, chose to seek a middle ground.Rather than defending a public institution critical to the region’s future and treating its closure as an unacceptable outcome, both the ruling establishment and the opposition allowed the situation to deteriorate.A day before the National Medical Commission withdrew its permission to SMVDIME, chief minister Omar Abdullah told the media that he did not understand why protests were taking place, as students had secured admission purely on merit. He suggested that if their admission was unacceptable, they could be accommodated elsewhere, adding that after the political controversy, the students themselves might not want to study at SMVDIME.He went on to say that the Government of India or the Ministry of Health should accommodate these students in other colleges, remarking that “we don’t want this medical college” if it had become so politicised.But this was never a fight where one party could truly win. Closing a medical college was treated as an acceptable outcome, not a policy failure demanding urgent correction.Human costs and missed alternativesThe closure has caused deep anxiety among the 50 students who cleared NEET against extraordinary odds. A final-year student from the Government Medical College in Kathua, who wished to remain anonymous, spoke about the deep anxiety this decision must have caused among the 50 students admitted to SMVDIME.Clearing NEET is exceptionally difficult, given the intense competition, limited seats and the sheer number of aspirants each year.According to them, the closure should have alarmed the entire region, and not been celebrated, especially since J&K has a relatively low number of medical seats per capita in India.While acknowledging the sentiments of the community that protested for reservation of seats, the student pointed out that such demands were not legally tenable in a college run by a statutory body. They questioned why political leaders failed to grasp the consequences of pushing such demands, consequences that directly harm youth, the public health sector and ultimately ordinary citizens. A different political course was possible, one that could have protected both social concerns and institutional continuity, they said.This brings us to a crucial but largely ignored issue: alternative pathways existed. Instead of pressing for legally unsustainable reservation demands that placed the institution itself at risk, political leadership could have pushed for the long-pending establishment of a state or UT minority commission. Recognising minority status for Hindu communities in regions where they are numerically in the minority, along with Sikhs and other communities, could have advanced equity without dismantling public educational infrastructure.This formal recognition will allow Hindus and other minorities in J&K the unambiguous right to avail the protections guaranteed to them by Article 30, and a minorities commission for the territory will provide a channel through which they can have their legitimate grievances addressed rather than have them go unheard and bottled up over time.Members of the National Conference’s student wing hold placards during a protest against the withdrawal of the permission for the medical college on January 10, 2026. Photo: PTI.Civil service exam educator Randhir Singh captured the tragedy of the public response: “The public reaction to the closure of the medical college was even more surprising. Even when the National Medical Commission flagged serious non-compliance with minimum standards, many people appreciated the move instead of questioning the failure.” That devotees had invested large sums of money into the institute “should have triggered outrage, accountability and a systemic audit of healthcare governance.”Krishna Saproo, a student activist from Jammu and founder of the Maunitva Nirakaran organisation that focuses on mental health advocacy, recalled how in 2015 Jammu’s civil society united to demand an AIIMS for the region.“It is alarming,” he said, “that within ten years we have moved from demanding new medical institutions to celebrating the loss of one that had just begun.”A dangerous precedentThis loss becomes even more stark when placed in recent context. Jammu and Kashmir is a territory that has recently emerged from a five-day-long full-scale war with neighbouring Pakistan in May 2025, followed by climate-induced disasters later that year, the brunt of both borne overwhelmingly by civilians.Looking ahead, the likelihood of climate shocks, political instability and humanitarian stress is higher than ever. And yet, we are told to believe that shutting down a medical college is a victory.We do recognise the concerns expressed by sections of the local community in Jammu are not entirely without basis. Many fear the erosion of regional culture, traditions and institutional autonomy, and believe that bodies such as the Shri Mata Vaishno Devi Shrine Board should play a stronger role in safeguarding the interests of local youth and promoting indigenous knowledge systems.However, these aspirations cannot be pursued by communalising an issue, dismantling public medical education or diluting merit-based admissions. Cultural revitalisation and youth empowerment are legitimate goals, but they require appropriate institutions and policy pathways – not the closure of a constitutionally governed medical college.This episode also exposes the hollowness of ideological binaries. Political ideologies become meaningless when development itself is the casualty. The youth of this country need clean air, clean water, education, healthcare and infrastructure, not symbolic victories that shrink public capacity.In a region as socially, politically and climatically fragile as Jammu and Kashmir, we cannot afford to treat essential institutions as pawns in political games. Public health is not a slogan. Medical colleges are not trophies. They are lifelines.And once lost, they are far harder to rebuild.Anmol Ohri is a climate justice activist, journalist and founder of Climate Front – Jammu. Kanwal Singh is a policy analyst, columnist and writer from J&K.