Editorial

The latest assessment by the UN and EU paints a staggering picture of devastation: over $71 billion and a full decade will be required to rebuild war-torn Gaza. Behind this colossal figure lies not just a humanitarian crisis, but a profound political and moral test for the international community.

First, the numbers are sobering. Seventy-one billion dollars is roughly four times Gaza’s pre-2023 GDP. The damage to homes, schools, hospitals, and critical infrastructure is so complete that the term “reconstruction” barely captures the scale. The UN estimates that removing the rubble alone—much of it laced with unexploded ordnance and human remains—could take years. For the two million Palestinians crammed into the strip, this means another decade of makeshift shelters, interrupted education, and collapsing healthcare.

Yet the true obstacle is not money; it is politics. Past reconstruction pledges for Gaza (e.g., after 2014 and 2021) have largely failed because donor funds were blocked by Israeli restrictions on materials, internal Palestinian division, or the risk of Hamas diverting resources. Without a durable ceasefire and a binding political framework, pouring billions into Gaza would be like filling a sieve. Who governs Gaza during rebuilding? How to ensure aid reaches civilians without arming militant groups? These questions remain unanswered.

The international response must break from its pattern of “pledge, delay, repeat.” First, a robust monitoring mechanism—perhaps under joint UN-Arab League oversight—must guarantee that cement and steel go to schools, not tunnels. Second, Israel must ease access for construction materials and humanitarian workers, in line with international law. Third, the reconstruction must be tied to a credible political horizon: a two-state solution. Otherwise, the next cycle of destruction will simply erase the $71 billion investment.

For the people of Gaza, hope is as scarce as clean water. A ten-year rebuilding plan is not just an engineering challenge; it is a referendum on whether the world values their lives beyond press releases. The UN and EU have issued the estimate. Now comes the harder part: turning billions into actual homes, hospitals, and a future worth living in. Anything less would be a second catastrophe—one of broken promises.

The uncertainty surrounding the Karnataka SSLC results has once again exposed a deeper structural issue in India’s education system—our confused approach to the third language. As the Karnataka High Court deliberates on whether students should be awarded marks or grades for the third language paper, the debate goes far beyond a technical evaluation dispute. It raises fundamental questions about the purpose, weight, and fairness of multilingual education.

The third language, introduced under frameworks like the Three Language Formula, was meant to promote linguistic diversity and national integration. In principle, it is a progressive idea—encouraging students to engage with India’s rich linguistic heritage. However, in practice, it often becomes a burden rather than an opportunity. Students, already grappling with core academic subjects, are required to achieve scoring parity in a language that may not be part of their daily life or cognitive environment.

The present controversy—whether to assign marks or grades—highlights this disconnect. Marks imply precision, competition, and high stakes; grades suggest flexibility and a broader assessment of learning. For a subject like the third language, which is often taught with limited resources and varying levels of exposure among students, a rigid marks-based evaluation risks penalizing learners for systemic shortcomings rather than individual performance.

This issue is particularly acute in a diverse state like Karnataka, where students come from multiple linguistic backgrounds. For many, the third language is neither spoken at home nor supported by adequate teaching infrastructure in schools. Expecting uniform performance under such uneven conditions is inherently unfair. The result is not just academic stress but also a distortion of educational priorities, where students focus on rote memorization to secure marks rather than genuine language acquisition.

Moreover, the delay in SSLC results due to this legal tussle has real consequences. It disrupts academic timelines, delays admissions, and creates anxiety among lakhs of students and parents. A system that is meant to empower young learners ends up holding them hostage to policy ambiguities and legal interpretation.

The way forward requires clarity of intent. If the third language is to remain part of the curriculum, its evaluation must align with its purpose. A grading system, combined with continuous assessment, may offer a more humane and realistic approach. Alternatively, policymakers must reconsider whether making the third language a high-stakes subject serves any meaningful educational goal.

Ultimately, the Karnataka SSLC controversy is not just about marks versus grades. It is about whether education policy is designed around students’ realities or imposed in abstraction. Until that question is honestly addressed, such crises will continue to recur—at the cost of both fairness and the spirit of learning.

• SAS Kirmani