The three major Asian economies each hold tough entry examinations for higher education institutions and for joining the civil service. Japan’s university entrance examination has half a million youth write a tough common test, followed by university-specific exams and interviews. The much-heralded Chinese civil service recruitment has nearly 3.5 million people writing an exam for less than 40,000 positions. The Indian civil service has about 1,000 jobs to be filled and a million students writing the examination. Each of these have their critics and their fault lines, but is recognised as largely fair, efficient and transparent,At the moment, however, it is the NEET, the National Eligibility‑cum‑Entrance Test, that is in the news. The exam, taken by 2 million students for admission into undergraduate medical and allied courses, is not just an examination. It is a household project. Parents dip into savings, take loans, postpone major expenses, and reorganise family life around a child’s preparation. Students spend years in coaching centres, often away from home, chasing a score that could determine the course of their future.This is why every controversy surrounding the examination feels personal. It is not merely an administrative failure. It is a breach of trust. For the millions of parents, siblings, and extended family members whose hopes are tied to the outcome, any questions that arise about the integrity of the process impact lives far beyond examination halls. India is facing a crisis not just in one examination, but in the credibility of its examination system itself.From isolated failures to a systemic problemOver the past decade, India has witnessed a succession of examination scandals and administrative failures. From the Vyapam recruitment scam in Madhya Pradesh to paper leaks affecting recruitment examinations, university entrance tests, public service commission examinations, and professional admissions, controversy has become an unwelcome but familiar feature of the country’s testing ecosystem.What was once viewed as an occasional failure is now increasingly perceived as a systemic problem. The immediate consequences are obvious: admissions are delayed, careers are put on hold, and students are left in limbo. The deeper consequences are harder to measure. For many students, these examinations are not simply academic exercises. They are perceived as the most reliable route to social mobility and economic security.The human cost of high-stakes testingIndia recorded 14,488 student suicides in 2024, according to NCRB data, the highest number on record and a dramatic increase over the past decade. Students now account for 8.5% of the country’s total suicide cases. While not all are directly linked to examinations, academic pressure and performance anxiety remain significant contributing factors. Recurring reports of students taking extreme steps after examination setbacks or uncertainties are tragic, to say the least. Yet public discussion continues around ranks, cut-offs, and scores.What receives far less attention is the extraordinary pressure that begins years before the examination itself. Children enter coaching programs at increasingly younger ages. Families spend substantial portions of their income on preparation. Entire educational journeys become oriented toward clearing a single test conducted on a single day.When trust requires military logisticsPerhaps the most revealing aspect of the current debate is the suggestion that Indian Air Force aircraft could be used to transport examination papers securely. India successfully conducts the world’s largest democratic elections. It manages sophisticated financial networks, digital infrastructure, and ambitious space missions. Yet we now find ourselves discussing whether military aircraft are needed to ensure that question papers reach examination centres safely.The proposal may emerge from a genuine desire to restore confidence. But symbolically, it highlights something deeply troubling. The problem is not how the papers travel. The problem is that confidence in the institutions responsible for safeguarding examinations has fallen so low that such extraordinary measures now appear necessary.Restoring trustIndia does not need fewer examinations. In a country of its size and diversity, competitive tests will continue to play an important role in allocating educational and professional opportunities. What India needs, however, are examinations that citizens can trust.More fundamentally, policymakers must confront the risks of placing so much weight on a single examination conducted on a single day. Wherever feasible, broader, more holistic assessment methods should complement high-stakes testing. Equally important is the need to recognise the immense psychological burden carried by students and their families, and to strengthen mental health support systems accordingly.The true measure of an examination system is not how many students it can process, but how much confidence it inspires. Students can accept competition. They can accept difficult questions. They can even accept disappointment. What they cannot accept is doubt about whether the process itself is fair.In China and in Japan, where millions compete for a few seats and jobs, the pressure is indeed enormous. The system does falter once in a while, and the sceptics raise a number of issues that are acerbic. However, the system’s credibility remains intact. Each time there is a whiff of a problem, the institutional response is swift and reassuring. China has jailed more than 11,000 officials in the last ten years for dereliction of exam duty. Japan, on the other hand, uses strict administrative controls coupled with enormous discipline to ensure none of this happens.When millions of young people stake their futures on an examination, credibility is not merely a technical requirement. It is the foundation of justice itself. And when that foundation begins to crack, it is not only examinations that are at risk; it is the society’s faith that hard work and merit still matter. There is much to learn from these countries, and the most important lesson is that the responsibility is fixed and accountability is clearly assigned.Amir Ullah Khan is a Development Economist and teaches public policy at the Indian School of Business. Anjana Divakar is a public policy researcher and Director at the Centre for Development Policy and Practice.