THE WORST COWARDICE

The Worst Cowardice: When Ayurvedic Educators Know What’s Right But Refuse to Do It

Dr. Aakash KembhaviPrincipal, Jain AGM Ayurvedic Medical College & Hospital, Varur

Disclaimer & Note on Collaboration

The views expressed in this article are entirely my personal opinions, born from over 25 years of experience in Ayurvedic education as a teacher, researcher, and administrator. These reflections represent my own thinking aloud about systemic challenges I have observed and grappled with throughout my career. They are not intended to hurt, demean, or attack any individual, institution, or regulatory body. Rather, they are offered as honest observations meant to provoke constructive dialogue about improving Ayurvedic education for future generations.

I recognize that reasonable people may disagree with my assessments, and I welcome such disagreement as essential to meaningful reform. My critique comes from a place of deep commitment to Ayurveda’s authentic preservation and genuine concern for our students’ education and our patients’ welfare.

This article was developed in collaboration with Claude AI (Anthropic), which helped structure and articulate my thoughts while the core arguments, examples, and critiques remain my own based on personal experience and observation.

“To know what is right and not to do it is the worst cowardice.” — Confucius

I keep this quote above my desk. Not because it inspires me, but because it condemns me.

Because like every Ayurvedic educator honest enough to admit it, I know what’s right. And I compromise with what’s wrong every single day.

We all do.

And Confucius is right—this is cowardice. Not the cowardice of ignorance, which can be forgiven. But the cowardice of knowledge without courage. Of seeing truth and choosing comfort. Of knowing what students deserve and giving them what’s administratively convenient.

This is the cowardice that’s killing Ayurvedic education. Not ignorance. Not malice. But the daily accumulation of small betrayals by people who know better.

Let me confess our collective cowardice. Because until we name it, we cannot overcome it.

The Things We Know Are Right (But Don’t Do)

Let’s start with brutal honesty about what every experienced Ayurvedic educator knows:

We Know Students Need to Read Classical Texts in Sanskrit

What we know is right:

  • Ayurvedic concepts cannot be fully grasped through English translations
  • Sanskrit terminology carries philosophical depth lost in translation
  • Classical texts must be studied in original language for authentic understanding
  • Students should develop facility with Sanskrit to access primary sources directly

What we actually do:

  • Teach from English translations and secondhand interpretations
  • Allow students to graduate without basic Sanskrit proficiency
  • Use textbooks that distort classical concepts through poor translation
  • Accept answers memorized from English summaries rather than demonstrating Sanskrit comprehension

Why we don’t do what’s right:

  • Teaching Sanskrit properly requires time we don’t allocate
  • Most faculty aren’t proficient enough themselves to teach it effectively
  • Students resist because it’s difficult
  • Examinations don’t really test Sanskrit facility, just memorization
  • It’s easier to teach in English than to teach Sanskrit rigorously

This is cowardice.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s convenient.

We Know Clinical Training Should Be Apprenticeship-Based

What we know is right:

  • Students learn clinical judgment through supervised patient responsibility
  • Procedural skills develop through repeated practice under mentorship
  • Diagnostic capability emerges from managing actual cases with guidance
  • Competent practitioners are trained through progressive clinical responsibility

What we actually do:

  • Herd students through observational hospital rotations
  • Have them record patient details they don’t understand
  • Let them watch procedures they’ll never perform
  • Pass them based on attendance and paperwork completion, not demonstrated competence

Why we don’t do what’s right:

  • Individual mentorship requires low student-faculty ratios we don’t maintain
  • Giving students real responsibility creates liability concerns
  • Proper clinical training takes more time than curriculum allows
  • Faculty are too busy with administrative tasks to provide intensive mentoring
  • It’s easier to have students observe than to train them properly

This is cowardice.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s administratively manageable.

We Know Most “Research” Is Credential Theater

What we know is right:

  • Research should advance understanding, not just accumulate publications
  • Methodology should be rigorous whether Ayurvedic or biomedical
  • Studies should address meaningful questions, not just fill dissertation requirements
  • Research quality matters more than publication quantity

What we actually do:

  • Guide students toward easy, publishable dissertation topics
  • Accept methodologically weak studies because they’ll be approved
  • Publish in journals with minimal peer review standards
  • Count publications for promotions without assessing their contribution

Why we don’t do what’s right:

  • Rigorous research requires expertise many lack
  • Meaningful studies take longer than academic timelines allow
  • Quality standards would expose that much research is inadequate
  • Publication counts are easier to measure than research contribution
  • It’s easier to produce mediocre research than to demand rigor

This is cowardice.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s measurable and promotable.

We Know Examinations Test Memory, Not Understanding

What we know is right:

  • Assessment should evaluate clinical reasoning, not memorization
  • Questions should test application of principles, not recall of facts
  • Competence should be demonstrated through performance, not written answers
  • Understanding should be assessed through analysis, not reproduction of textbook definitions

What we actually do:

  • Set questions asking for rote definitions and classifications
  • Accept answers copied verbatim from textbooks
  • Pass students who can memorize without understanding
  • Use standardized questions that reward preparation over comprehension

Why we don’t do what’s right:

  • Testing understanding requires subjective evaluation we avoid
  • Application-based assessment is harder to standardize
  • Challenging questions might increase failure rates (politically problematic)
  • Examiner training for assessing understanding doesn’t exist systematically
  • It’s easier to test memory than to evaluate comprehension

This is cowardice.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s objectively gradable and administratively defensible.

We Know Faculty Quality Determines Educational Quality

What we know is right:

  • Excellent teachers produce well-educated students
  • Faculty should demonstrate subject mastery and teaching effectiveness
  • Teacher development should be continuous priority
  • Hiring should prioritize competence over convenience

What we actually do:

  • Hire whoever is available with minimum credentials
  • Provide minimal teaching development support
  • Tolerate ineffective teaching if faculty maintain compliance
  • Rarely remove poor teachers once appointed

Why we don’t do what’s right:

  • Faculty shortage means we hire whoever we can get
  • Rigorous hiring standards would leave positions unfilled
  • Evaluating teaching effectiveness is subjective and difficult
  • Removing poor performers creates administrative complications
  • It’s easier to accept mediocrity than to demand excellence

This is cowardice.

We know what’s right. We choose what keeps positions filled and avoids conflict.

The Small Daily Betrayals: How Cowardice Accumulates

Confucius’s condemnation isn’t about dramatic moral failures. It’s about the accumulation of small choices where we know what’s right and choose otherwise.

Every day, Ayurvedic educators make these choices:

In the Classroom:

The right choice: Teach until students understand, even if it means deviating from prescribed syllabus or pace.

The coward’s choice: Cover required topics superficially to stay on schedule, regardless of student comprehension.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s syllabus-compliant.

The right choice: Assign readings from classical texts and discuss interpretations in depth.

The coward’s choice: Rely on textbook summaries because it’s faster and students don’t resist.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s easier.

The right choice: Challenge students to think critically, even when they initially struggle and resist.

The coward’s choice: Feed them information to memorize, keeping classes smooth and students satisfied.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s comfortable.

In Clinical Training:

The right choice: Give students progressive patient responsibility under supervision, accepting the time investment required.

The coward’s choice: Keep students as observers, avoiding liability and supervision burden.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s safer administratively.

The right choice: Demonstrate procedures, then have students practice until proficient, providing intensive feedback.

The coward’s choice: Show procedures once, maybe let students try briefly, then move on to maintain rotation schedule.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s schedule-compliant.

The right choice: Fail students who haven’t developed clinical competence, even if they’ve completed rotations.

The coward’s choice: Pass students who’ve shown up and filled paperwork, avoiding conflict about standards.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s conflict-averse.

In Institutional Leadership:

The right choice: Demand teaching excellence as hiring and promotion criterion, leaving positions empty if necessary.

The coward’s choice: Hire whoever meets minimum credentials, prioritizing filling positions over quality.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s staffing-efficient.

The right choice: Allocate resources to teaching support even if infrastructure budgets suffer.

The coward’s choice: Invest in visible infrastructure for inspections, giving teaching minimal support.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s inspection-friendly.

The right choice: Publicly acknowledge institutional failures and address them transparently.

The coward’s choice: Maintain appearance of success, hiding failures to protect reputation.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s image-protective.

In Research Guidance:

The right choice: Insist on rigorous methodology even if it delays completion or makes publication difficult.

The coward’s choice: Accept methodologically convenient studies that will get approved and published quickly.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s expedient.

The right choice: Reject students’ poor-quality work, requiring revision until it meets standards.

The coward’s choice: Accept marginal work that technically fulfills requirements, avoiding conflict and delay.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s administratively smooth.

The right choice: Admit when research questions are beyond our expertise and connect students with appropriate mentors.

The coward’s choice: Guide research in areas where we’re inadequately qualified because it’s expected of our position.

We know what’s right. We choose what’s role-appropriate even when we’re unqualified.

The Rationalizations: How We Live with Our Cowardice

Confucius leaves us no comfortable space. But we’re creative in finding rationalizations:

Rationalization #1: “The System Won’t Let Me”

The rationalization: “I would do what’s right, but NCISM regulations require… university rules mandate… administrative policies prevent… inspection criteria demand…”

The truth: Systems are made of people making choices. When enough people choose rightly despite systemic pressure, systems change. When everyone claims the system prevents them from doing right, the system becomes an excuse for collective cowardice.

The Confucian response: If you know what’s right, do it within whatever space you have. The system prevents some actions. It doesn’t prevent all right actions. Choose rightly where you can, and accept that “the system won’t let me” is often “the system makes it inconvenient for me.”

Rationalization #2: “I’m Just One Person”

The rationalization: “What difference can I make? If I do things rightly while others don’t, I’m just making myself ineffective/unpopular/unsuccessful without changing the broader system.”

The truth: This is the logic that perpetuates every dysfunctional system. Everyone waiting for everyone else to go first means nobody ever does. Collective inaction justified by individual insignificance.

The Confucian response: Your responsibility is to do what’s right, not to guarantee it changes everything. Do right because it’s right, not because it’s certain to succeed. Your individual action may seem insignificant, but the accumulation of individual cowardice is precisely what created systemic dysfunction.

Rationalization #3: “I Have to Pick My Battles”

The rationalization: “If I fight every fight for what’s right, I’ll burn out / lose my job / become ineffective. Strategic compromise is wisdom, not cowardice.”

The truth: There’s a difference between strategic prioritization and perpetual compromise. If you’re always picking battles to fight later, you’re not being strategic—you’re being cowardly.

The Confucian response: Pick your battles, yes. But actually fight some of them. If your “strategic compromise” means you never actually do what you know is right because it’s always inconvenient, you’ve rationalized cowardice as wisdom.

Rationalization #4: “My Students/Institution Would Suffer”

The rationalization: “If I insist on proper Sanskrit training, my students will fail university exams. If I demand clinical competence, my graduates won’t pass. If I maintain rigorous standards, my institution will lose students/recognition/funding.”

The truth: This is using those you claim to serve as excuses for not serving them well. “I’m protecting you” becomes rationalization for giving them inadequate education.

The Confucian response: If your students suffer from receiving proper education, the problem is the evaluation system, not your teaching. Preparing students to pass flawed examinations while knowing they’re learning inadequately is choosing credentials over competence—for them and you.

Rationalization #5: “Things Will Get Better Gradually”

The rationalization: “Change takes time. We’re moving in the right direction. Things are better than they used to be. Patience and gradual progress are realistic, not cowardly.”

The truth: “Gradual improvement” becomes excuse for tolerating continued dysfunction. Every year of inadequate education damages another cohort of students. Every generation of poorly trained practitioners degrades Ayurveda’s credibility. “Patience” becomes cowardice’s cloak.

The Confucian response: Gradual change is fine if you’re actively causing change gradually. But if you’re just accepting dysfunction while hoping it improves eventually without your uncomfortable action, you’re not being patient—you’re being cowardly.

The Cost of Collective Cowardice

When individuals knowing what’s right consistently choose not to do it, the costs accumulate:

Cost #1: Students We Fail

Every student who:

  • Graduates unable to read Sanskrit texts we know they need
  • Enters practice without clinical competence we know they require
  • Believes credentials guarantee capability we know they lack
  • Discovers their education was inadequate only after investing years

They trusted us to give them proper education. We knew what that required. We chose not to do it.

This is betrayal rationalized as pragmatism.

Cost #2: Patients Who Suffer

Every patient who:

  • Receives treatment from practitioners we trained inadequately
  • Suffers from procedures performed by graduates who only observed
  • Doesn’t improve because their practitioner doesn’t understand what they memorized
  • Loses faith in Ayurveda because of poorly prepared practitioners

We knew proper clinical training was necessary. We chose administrative convenience instead.

This is malpractice by proxy.

Cost #3: The Tradition We Claim to Preserve

Every generation:

  • Learns diluted versions of classical knowledge
  • Perpetuates errors because proper scholarship wasn’t demanded
  • Transmits inadequate understanding to the next generation
  • Moves further from authentic Ayurveda we claim to preserve

We knew authentic transmission required rigor. We chose easier methods.

This is cultural negligence masquerading as preservation.

Cost #4: Our Own Integrity

Every time we:

  • Know what’s right and choose what’s convenient
  • See problems and stay silent to avoid conflict
  • Compromise standards to maintain comfortable positions
  • Rationalize cowardice as realism

We damage something essential in ourselves: the capacity to act on our knowledge of right and wrong.

This is moral erosion through accumulated small betrayals.

The Path from Cowardice to Courage

Confucius doesn’t just condemn—he implies the alternative. If knowing what’s right but not doing it is the worst cowardice, then knowing what’s right and doing it is the fundamental courage.

How do we develop that courage in Ayurvedic education?

Step 1: Stop Pretending We Don’t Know

The first act of courage is honesty:

  • Admitting we know students need better Sanskrit training
  • Acknowledging we know clinical apprenticeship is necessary
  • Recognizing we know research standards are inadequate
  • Accepting we know our teaching could be more effective

Stop hiding behind “that’s just how things are.” Admit: we know what’s right. We’re choosing not to do it.

This admission is uncomfortable. It’s also essential.

Step 2: Choose One Right Thing and Do It

You can’t fix everything immediately. But you can do one thing right:

Pick one area where you know what’s right and choose to do it, regardless of:

  • Administrative convenience
  • Regulatory pressure
  • Systemic norms
  • Comfort level

Maybe it’s:

  • Teaching one unit from classical texts in Sanskrit, properly
  • Giving students real clinical responsibility in your department
  • Rejecting mediocre research even if it delays graduation
  • Maintaining rigorous standards in your classroom
  • Speaking honestly about institutional failures
  • Supporting a colleague taking a principled stand

One right thing, done consistently, breaks the pattern of cowardice.

Step 3: Accept the Costs

Doing right has costs:

  • Extra time and effort
  • Administrative friction
  • Colleague disapproval
  • Student resistance initially
  • Systemic pushback

Confucius doesn’t promise that doing right is easy or popular. He just says not doing right when you know it is cowardice.

Accept that courage is uncomfortable. That’s why it’s courage.

Step 4: Find Others Who Know

You’re not alone in knowing what’s right:

  • Other faculty members see the same problems
  • Other administrators struggle with the same compromises
  • Other students recognize inadequate education
  • Other practitioners know they weren’t trained well

Courage is easier when shared. Find the others. Create spaces where knowing what’s right can become doing what’s right together.

Step 5: Document and Demonstrate

Make your right actions visible:

  • When your rigorous teaching produces better student understanding
  • When your proper clinical training creates competent graduates
  • When your research standards generate meaningful knowledge
  • When your honest leadership improves institutional quality

Document these outcomes. Demonstrate that doing right isn’t just moral—it’s effective.

Success in doing right undermines rationalizations for cowardice.

Step 6: Refuse to Judge, but Continue to Act

Don’t become self-righteous about your courage:

  • We’ve all been cowardly at times
  • Others face constraints we might not understand
  • Judging others’ cowardice is easier than maintaining our own courage

But continue acting rightly anyway. Not to prove superiority, but because you know it’s right.

This is the sustained courage Confucius calls for.

My Personal Confession: Where I Know and Don’t Do

I write this article as self-condemnation as much as collective critique. Because I too know what’s right and choose cowardice regularly:

I know my students need more intensive Sanskrit training than I provide. I choose to cover more content superficially rather than less content deeply because the syllabus demands it and students would resist deeper rigor.

I know I should reject more research proposals for methodological inadequacy. I choose to guide students toward completing acceptable (but mediocre) work rather than demanding excellence that might delay their degrees.

I know I should speak more publicly about specific institutional failures. I choose measured critique that won’t cost me too much professionally rather than comprehensive honesty that might.

I know I should allocate more resources to teaching support even if infrastructure suffers. I choose to maintain inspection-ready infrastructure while teaching gets inadequate support.

In each case, I know what’s right. I choose what’s convenient, sustainable, professionally safe.

Confucius condemns me. Rightly.

And his condemnation is valuable because it prevents me from being comfortable with these compromises. It keeps the tension between knowledge and action present, uncomfortable, demanding.

I don’t yet have the courage to do what’s right consistently. But Confucius won’t let me forget that I know what it is.

That’s the beginning of courage: knowing what’s right, admitting when we don’t do it, and refusing to be comfortable with that gap.

The Question Confucius Leaves Us

“To know what is right and not to do it is the worst cowardice.”

So ask yourself:

What do you know is right in your teaching that you’re not doing?

What standards do you know you should maintain but compromise?

What truths do you know you should speak but stay silent about?

What courage do you know you should show but rationalize away?

Don’t answer me. Answer yourself. Honestly.

Because Confucius isn’t interested in our rationalizations. He’s exposing our cowardice to ourselves.

And once exposed, we face a choice:

Continue knowing what’s right while choosing what’s convenient—accepting that this is cowardice.

OR

Begin doing what’s right, accepting whatever costs that brings—discovering what courage feels like.

The Final Word: Knowledge Demands Action

In Ayurvedic education, we’re not failing because of ignorance. We know:

  • What proper Sanskrit training requires
  • What clinical competence development needs
  • What rigorous research looks like
  • What excellent teaching produces
  • What institutional integrity demands

We know all this.

And we choose not to do most of it.

This is the worst cowardice.

Not because we’re bad people. But because we’re knowledgeable people choosing comfort over courage, convenience over commitment, and safety over service.

Every one of us.

Every day.

In small and large ways.

Confucius offers no comfortable middle ground. Either:

  • We don’t know what’s right (which we can’t claim)
  • We know and do it (which requires courage)
  • We know and don’t do it (which is cowardice)

So which is it for you?

For me, I confess: too often, cowardice.

But Confucius’s condemnation won’t let me be comfortable with that.

And discomfort with cowardice is the beginning of courage.

So maybe there’s hope yet.

For me. For you. For all of us who know what’s right in Ayurvedic education but haven’t yet found the courage to do it consistently.

Maybe today is the day we choose one right thing and do it.

Despite the costs.

Despite the discomfort.

Despite our well-practiced rationalizations.

Just because we know it’s right.

That would be courage.

And courage, unlike cowardice, might actually save Ayurvedic education.

Are you ready?

I’m trying to be.

Dr. Aakash Kembhavi writes this article as self-examination as much as critique, recognizing that he too knows what’s right and struggles daily to do it consistently.

Share this if Confucius’s condemnation makes you uncomfortable—discomfort means you still know the difference between right and wrong. That’s the beginning of courage.

Share your thoughts in the comments below.