On June 14, 2022, the Indian government changed over two centuries of tradition in military recruitment policy. According to the new policy, called Agnipath (“path of fire”), the military inducts new soldiers for only four years and retains just a quarter of them for longer-term employment. This is unlikely to improve the fighting effectiveness of the Indian armed forces.

Under this new policy, the military recruits 17½–21-year-old men as Agniveers — “fire warriors” — who train for six months before reporting for active duty in the army, navy and air force. These Agniveers will serve for four years, after which the military will retain 25% of them. Those retained by the military will serve as “regular cadre,” who currently stay on for 15 years, with possibilities of staying on for longer if they win promotions.

What do proponents of Agnipath hope to achieve?

The Indian government and other proponents defend Agnipath on four primary grounds: structural reform, fiscal efficiency, creating a talent funnel, and decreasing the average age of soldiers.

They argue that the earlier recruitment system relied on outdated caste and ethnic divisions. India inherited this structure from the British, who designated certain groups — such as Sikhs, Gurkhas, and Rajputs — as “martial races” and recruited them into region- and caste-specific regiments. These regiments mirrored the British Army’s model, which still includes units like the Royal Irish Regiment or the Scots Guards. In post-independence India, many of these traditions persisted, especially in the Army’s infantry. While the Air Force, Navy, and several arms of the Army now recruit nationally, many regiments still rely on local or ethnic catchments. Supporters claim this approach reflects colonial divide-and-rule tactics, not the needs of a modern nation-state. They believe India should eliminate these legacies and replace them with ethnically neutral, numbered units.

They also highlight the unsustainable cost of the previous model. Previously, long-term soldiers received not just pay, but pensions, healthcare, housing, and rations. Pensions alone consumed nearly a quarter of the defense budget. This heavy financial burden limited the military’s ability to invest in modernization, including critical equipment upgrades and advanced weapon systems. By reducing the number of long-term soldiers, the Agnipath system will reduce pension obligations. In 2025–26, the government allocated ₹110 billion ($1.29 billion) for Agnipath — only 3.5% of the total ₹3.12 trillion ($36.6 billion) defense budget. Proponents argue that the policy frees up funds for modernization while trimming bureaucratic bloat.

Supporters also claim that the Agnipath system will allow the best talent to rise. Under the policy, only a quarter of Agniveers will be retained, so competition is intense. Government officials argue that this structure incentivizes performance and ensures that only the most capable and motivated candidates transition into the permanent cadre. In their view, this merit-based filter will create a more effective fighting force in the long run.

In addition to rewarding talent, the policy also aims to make the military younger. The government has stated that one of Agnipath’s goals is to reduce the average age of soldiers from 32 to 26. A younger military, it argues, will possess greater physical endurance, adaptability, and drive. Although the government has not set a specific timeline for achieving this demographic shift, officials maintain that a lower average age will inject josh aur jazba — zeal and passion — into the armed forces, enhancing both their morale and performance on the battlefield.

Agnipath will compromise the military’s effectiveness as a fighting force

Opponents of Agnipath raise serious concerns about morale, training, selection, and long-term stability. They argue that the policy reduces incentives, disrupts unit cohesion, and risks producing undertrained, undervalued soldiers.

They emphasize that young Indians often prefer government jobs for their job security. The civil service and Central Armed Police Forces (CAPF) offer permanent tenures. In contrast, Agniveers receive temporary contracts with no guarantee of retention. Even families with a long military tradition now encourage their children to join the police or other uniformed services instead. This shift undermines the Indian military’s recruitment base and makes it a less attractive career. The risks of combat remain high, but the pay is modest — ₹30,000–₹40,000 ($350–$480) per month — and there are no pensions, no long-term healthcare, and no canteen privileges for most Agniveers. (Note that per capita annual income is around $208, as per the World Bank.) Soldiers know their service will be short, their benefits limited, and their families unsupported if they fall in battle.

This creates broader social concerns. Most recruits come from rural or semi-rural backgrounds, where honor and stability carry significant weight. A young man who returns home after four years without permanent employment may face stigma or struggle to marry. A large cohort of trained, armed, unemployed men could also increase social instability. History shows that unattached young men, especially those with combat training, often pose security risks — either by turning to crime or joining insurgencies.

Critics also challenge the policy’s impact on physical fitness and selection standards. To minimize corruption, Agnipath prioritizes exam scores over physical tests. This has led to the recruitment of candidates who may be academically capable but physically underprepared. Many do not come from traditional military communities and lack the pride and identity that comes with such lineage. Veterans and sergeants report that current Agniveers are less tough and less motivated than earlier cohorts.

The training regime reflects another key shortfall. Six months of training — compared to the 14-month programs of a decade ago — is too short to instill the physical and mental discipline needed for modern combat. Experts argue that recruits need at least three months of proper nutrition before they can even begin strenuous training. Furthermore, modern warfare, especially in the Air Force and Navy, requires highly technical skills. Even infantry soldiers now rely on sophisticated equipment, including night vision goggles, drones, and RPGs. If 75% of Agniveers leave after four years, the military has little incentive to invest in their advanced training. The result is a diluted, underprepared force.

The most serious concern raised by critics of Agnipath is the damage it inflicts on morale across the Indian military. Morale is not a superficial concern — it is the foundation of combat effectiveness, discipline, and sacrifice. A soldier who does not feel respected, valued, or secure in his role will not fight with conviction. The Agnipath policy signals, both symbolically and materially, that society places a lower value on military service than on other government jobs, such as those in the police or civil administration. Agniveers know that their employment is temporary, that their benefits are limited, and that most of them will be discharged after just four years. This awareness undermines their commitment and weakens the very institutions they serve. Over time, this constant churn of personnel erodes institutional memory and hollows out the experience base that any professional military depends on.

Compounding this morale crisis are the structural weaknesses embedded in the policy itself. Low pay, short training periods, and unclear criteria for retention all contribute to a sense of precarity and disposability among Agniveers. Soldiers who are not properly trained, not physically prepared, and not paid or treated on par with their long-term counterparts will naturally feel alienated from the institution they serve. These conditions send a clear message: that their contribution is short-term, replaceable, and ultimately expendable. Instead of fostering loyalty, camaraderie, or pride, the system incentivizes self-preservation. The Agnipath framework, by design, introduces a new class of temporary soldiers who lack a clear path forward — and that uncertainty saps morale at the core.

This shift is already changing the culture within the ranks. Officers and veterans report a steady decline in esprit de corps — the pride and unity that once defined the Indian military. Agniveers, occupying a lower rank than regular soldiers, now constitute a de facto new caste within the armed forces. Four years is simply not enough time to internalize regimental values or develop the kind of trust that makes soldiers willing to risk their lives for each other. In traditional units where soldiers fought for Nam, Namak, Nishan — honor, loyalty, and shared identity — such bonds took years to build. By contrast, Agnipath fosters a dog-eat-dog environment, where individual survival trumps collective mission. Agniveers, knowing they will soon exit the system and may never see their fellow recruits again, have little reason to form deep attachments. The result is a more fragmented, risk-averse, and ultimately less effective fighting force.

Agnipath will not achieve the benefits supporters claim

Given these contrasting sets of pros and cons, it would be easy to argue that its supporters and critics simply value different priorities — stability vs. flexibility, experience vs. youth, or institutional loyalty vs. cost savings. But this is misleading. In reality, Agnipath doesn’t just sacrifice one set of goals for another — it fails even on its own stated terms. Now, I will consider each of the pro arguments in turn and explain why Agnipath will not achieve the results it is meant to achieve.

On the issue of caste and ethnic regiments, critics agree that India should transcend colonial-era divisions. But they also argue that ethnic and regional identities still matter in India today. Regimental pride often draws strength from shared cultural backgrounds. Critics note that Nepal’s legendary Gurkhas — who have served with distinction in the Indian Army since 1815 — no longer find Agnipath attractive. They refuse to risk their lives for a temporary job that lacks honor and career progression. This rejection not only weakens the military but also strains India–Nepal relations. Meanwhile, Britain continues to recruit Gurkhas, and China has begun studying their integration as a model for its own forces. Agnipath has already handed geopolitical advantages to India’s rivals.

Supporters emphasize that the new policy will reduce pension costs. Critics respond that this financial gain comes at too high a price. Pensions exist not just as a benefit but as a symbol of respect for those who serve. Retired soldiers often pass down institutional wisdom and support the military in civilian roles. Removing that link discourages recruitment and erodes long-term military culture. Young Indians may reject the Agnipath route in favor of more secure and stable careers — even if those offer less money. In times of crisis, India may find itself with fewer qualified and willing recruits. The Pahalgam attack of April 2025, which claimed 26 civilian lives, highlights the need for a military that blends the energy of youth with the judgment of experience. Budget cuts that hollow out that balance endanger national security.

Supporters claim that Agnipath rewards merit and competition. Critics disagree. They argue that the selection process now favors test-takers over patriots. Young men who want to serve their country long-term may never get the chance. Worse, those trained in arms for four years may return to society without a clear path. In rare cases, this may lead to radicalization or militancy — where the very training meant to serve the nation turns against it. More broadly, the lack of a reintegration plan will leave many Agniveers adrift, with no guarantee that their service will help them build a future.

Supporters say Agnipath will make the army younger. Critics acknowledge the potential benefits of youth, but they see no plan or timeline to reach the stated goal of reducing the average age to 26. They also question whether constant turnover will help the military. As Agniveers finally become competent in their fourth year, the military discharges most of them. This wastes training investment and drains institutional memory. Critics believe that a strong military needs both youthful vigor and veteran leadership — Agnipath provides neither in sustainable measure.

New Delhi must have the courage to change direction

The Agnipath policy has ignited widespread debate over its impact on the Indian military’s operational effectiveness. While the government introduced it as a step toward modernization, serious concerns have emerged — about the loss of experience, the difficulty of retaining talent, and the mental toll on short-term recruits. These concerns raise a pressing question: does the policy actually strengthen India’s defense, or does it compromise it?

Recognizing that this policy may have been a mistake is not a sign of weakness. It is a mark of responsibility. The government must have the courage to revise a flawed decision. Listening to veterans, defense experts, and those serving in uniform would allow the government to rework the scheme into something more stable, more effective, and more respectful of the armed forces’ mission.

This critique comes not from any lack of respect for the military, but from deep admiration for it. Indians owe an unshakable debt of patriotic gratitude to the men and women who serve, often at great personal risk. Out of that respect, we must insist that the military receive the support, resources, and long-term stability it deserves — not just symbolic praise, but meaningful policy.

The recent Pahalgam attack and continued threats on India’s borders make this need all the more urgent. A strong military cannot rely on youth alone. It must draw strength from the combination of youthful energy and experienced leadership. A recruitment policy that honors both will serve India’s security far better — and reflect the seriousness with which we regard those who defend it.

[Anton Schauble edited this piece.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.