The troubling reality of systemic issues within Mongolia’s universities and research institutions, including power struggles, oppression, discrimination and persecution, is being brought to light by scientists, researchers and educators. Unfortunately, the public, often distracted by sensationalism and gossip, has largely dismissed these revelations as mere personal conflicts or trivial matters. This indifference has allowed the situation to deteriorate to the point of undermining the academic and educational systems, devaluing teaching and research, and even tarnishing the country’s international reputation. This decline is corroborated by the annual Academic Freedom Index (AFI), published by the V-Dem Institute at the University of Gothenburg in Sweden. Recent findings highlight Mongolia as one of the countries experiencing the most severe regression in academic freedom, now flagged with a “red flag” status, which is a stark indicator of the pressing need for reform.
The inescapable truth
Numbers rarely lie, and the statistics on Mongolia’s academic freedom tell a concerning story. According to comprehensive data from the V-Dem Institute, the country’s Academic Freedom Index has suffered a dramatic decline, dropping to 0.7 in 2024, its lowest point in over a decade. This is a steep fall from its peak of 0.86 in 2012 and continues a downward trend that has accelerated since 2020.
The decline becomes even more striking when examining specific indicators. Before the pandemic, the country’s academic environment scored 2.01 for fairness and ethics - a figure that has since deteriorated to 1.69. Similarly, the freedom to exchange and disseminate knowledge has nearly halved, falling from 1.47 to 0.86. Perhaps most alarming is the near-collapse of institutional independence, with the relevant indicator plunging by 0.78 points to just 0.53.
Historical context deepens the concern. From 1990 to 2015, during the early democratic transition, academic freedom remained relatively stable, protected by constitutional guarantees. But the past four years have undone much of that progress. When compared to countries like Argentina and Portugal, nations that began their democratic journeys alongside Mongolia, the contrast is sobering. Where others have maintained or strengthened academic freedoms, Mongolia’s rapid backslide now places it among the most concerning global cases.
These numbers are more than statistics, they represent a measurable contraction of intellectual liberty. Each decimal point lost correlates with diminished research autonomy, stifled debate, and a weakening of the academic reputation. Without intervention, this trend threatens not just universities, but the country’s long-term development and standing in the global knowledge economy. The data has spoken. The question now is whether Mongolia will listen.
A closer examination of the Academic Freedom Index 2024 report exposes troubling data points that paint a grim picture of the higher education landscape. While the full report contains numerous concerning metrics, several key indicators stand out - each serving as a stark measure of how severely academic freedom has deteriorated in our universities and research institutions. The most telling figures reveal systemic regression: a sharp decline in institutional autonomy, worsening ethical standards in research, and increasing restrictions on open academic discourse. These metrics do not merely represent abstract scores, they reflect real constraints on scholars’ ability to teach, publish and collaborate without interference. When academic freedom weakens, so too does the quality of education, the integrity of research and ultimately, Mongolia’s competitiveness in the global knowledge economy.
Mirroring reality
The decline of academic freedom in Mongolia is not an accident, it is the inevitable result of a system where knowledge has become hostage to power. At the heart of this crisis lies a fundamental corruption: universities and research institutions, which should be sanctuaries of independent thought, have instead become extensions of political machinery.
The pattern is unmistakable. Academic appointments are increasingly treated as political appointments, with university leadership positions doled out as rewards for loyalty rather than markers of scholarly achievement. This creates a dangerous symbiosis - politicians use academic institutions to legitimize their power, while aspiring politicians use academia as a stepping stone to higher office. The consequences ripple through every level of the system. Researchers find their work scrutinized not for its intellectual merit but for its political utility. Faculty members learn that career advancement depends less on the quality of their scholarship than on their connections to the right people.
What emerges is an academic culture where survival requires complicity. Scholars who challenge prevailing orthodoxies risk ostracism, while those who align themselves with power are elevated, regardless of their qualifications. The result is a hollowing-out of intellectual life, a system that produces politically convenient narratives rather than genuine knowledge. This politicization has a corrosive effect on the very purpose of higher education. When universities become instruments of political patronage, they lose their ability to serve as engines of innovation and critical thought. The damage extends beyond academia, it weakens the country’s ability to develop solutions to complex problems, undermines public trust in scholarly institutions, and diminishes the country’s standing in the global intellectual community.
The tragedy is that this erosion has been gradual enough to escape urgent attention but relentless enough to do profound damage. Each year, the space for independent inquiry grows smaller, the influence of political considerations grows larger, and the possibility of meaningful reform grows more distant. There was a time when Mongolia’s academic institutions showed promise of becoming centers of excellence and intellectual freedom. That promise is fading, not because of external pressures, but because of choices made within the system itself.
The young researcher’s words cut to the heart of Mongolia’s academic crisis. His experience at the Mongolian Academy of Sciences reveals a system that rewards sycophancy over scholarship, where survival depends not on intellectual rigor but on mastering the art of political navigation. Like a Gobi desert plant struggling against harsh conditions, principled researchers find themselves starved of opportunity in an environment that favors those who “run well up and down” the corridors of power.
This reality is reflected in Mongolia’s dismal performance in the V-Dem Index, particularly in the crucial category measuring institutional independence. The collapse of this foundational pillar has dragged down all other indicators of academic freedom. When meritocracy gives way to patronage, when scientific integrity is sacrificed at the altar of political expediency, the entire academic ecosystem suffers. Researchers either learn to perform the required political theater or face professional oblivion. The consequences are both profound and paradoxical. A system designed to produce knowledge instead manufactures compliance. Bright minds that should be pushing boundaries are forced to focus on pleasing superiors. Innovation withers while empty rhetoric flourishes. Mongolia’s academic institutions, meant to be lighthouses of progress, risk becoming mere echo chambers for those in power.
‘Hostilities’ area
Universities and research institutes are meant to be the engines of a nation’s progress, developing cutting-edge knowledge, training skilled professionals and driving innovation. Globally, these institutions are shielded from political and financial interference because societies recognize that their mission collapses under external pressure. Autonomous governance, independent funding, and academic freedom are not luxuries; they are necessities for institutions tasked with pushing the boundaries of human understanding. Yet in Mongolia, a different reality has taken root. The consequences are devastating. Researchers cannot pursue groundbreaking studies if their topics don’t align with political interests. Professors are stifled, unable to design courses freely or speak critically without fear of reprisal. Funding, instead of being allocated based on scientific potential, becomes a tool for control, forcing scholars to compete not for intellectual excellence but for the favor of those in charge.
A young doctoral student’s lament captures this crisis perfectly: Mongolia’s academics are trapped in a cycle of survival, wasting their talent on bureaucratic battles over meager budgets rather than pursuing transformative research. When scholars must “bow down to bosses” for basic resources, innovation suffocates. A professor’s warning that even the nation’s flagship university has become hostile to academic freedom should have been a wake-up call. Instead, it was met with public indifference, reinforcing the dangerous status quo.
The cost of this neglect is already clear. The brightest minds, faced with a system that rewards compliance over creativity, will leave, either for foreign institutions where their work is valued or for careers outside academia altogether. Mongolia cannot afford this brain drain. Without urgent reform, its universities and research centers risk becoming hollow shells, incapable of fostering the knowledge and talent needed for the country’s future.
The alarm bells are ringing but no one in power seems to hear them. When Julian Dierkes, a renowned Mongol scholar at the University of British Colombia, expressed shock at the country’s plummeting academic freedom scores, his concern echoed what Mongolian academics have known for years: the system is broken. Yet, those at the helm, such as university leaders, policymakers and government officials, continue to recite empty promises about “respecting academic freedom” and “establishing independent higher education” while doing nothing to stop the rot.
The 2023 Higher Education Law pays lip service to academic freedom, but in reality, university rectors, academic councils and defense committees remain tightly bound to political interests. The disconnect between rhetoric and reality could not be starker. If Mongolia truly valued intellectual independence, its leaders would have scrutinized the V-Dem report, confronted the damning indicators, and launched reforms. Instead, the findings were met with silence - a silence that speaks volumes about where academic freedom ranks among the nation’s priorities.
The tragedy is twofold. First, politicians and administrators perform the theater of caring about education while systematically stripping universities of autonomy. Second, researchers and teachers, who should be driving Mongolia’s knowledge economy, are reduced to fighting for survival, begging for funding, navigating bureaucratic minefields and biting their tongues to avoid professional ruin. A system that should nurture innovation now suffocates it.
The cost of this neglect is not abstract. Every stifled researcher, every censored lecture, and every politicized appointment weakens Mongolia’s future. Nations that thrive in the 21st century do so because they invest in free, fearless scholarship. Mongolia, by contrast, is racing in the opposite direction, toward a dystopia where universities exist to serve power rather than truth. The V-Dem report is not just a ranking; it is a mirror. And right now, Mongolia refuses to look into it. The question is: How much more must be lost before that changes?
