An Interview with Dr. Suneeta (Dhingra) Mukherjee
Former Commissioner-cum-Secretary, Government of Himachal Pradesh | Former International Civil Servant (ICS), United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA)
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Dr. Suneeta (Dhingra) Mukherjee is a retired Indian Administrative Service (IAS) officer and former International Civil Servant (ICS) with the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA).
In India, she held a range of leadership positions: after serving as Deputy Joint Secretary (Personnel), she became the first woman Deputy Commissioner of Himachal Pradesh, posted in Solan. She also served as Deputy Director (Administration) at PGI Chandigarh and later at AIIMS, New Delhi; as Joint Secretary in the Ministry of Health & Family Welfare; Managing Director of the Himachal Pradesh State Electronics Development Corporation; and Commissioner-cum-Secretary in the Government of Himachal Pradesh.
As part of the ICS, Dr. Mukherjee served as the UNFPA Country Representative in Sri Lanka, Maldives, Bangladesh, and the Philippines, where she championed maternal health, reproductive rights, adolescent health, gender equity and prevention of HIV/AIDS.
She is also a TEDx speaker, author, and life coach, dedicated to helping individuals–especially young people–achieve personal and professional transformation.
In this conversation with The Policy Edge team, Dr. Mukherjee reflects on her administrative journey from the IAS to international health leadership, sharing lessons on institutional culture, governance innovation, the value of integrity, and the mindset shifts needed for the next generation of civil servants.
Looking back on your entry into the IAS in the 1970s, what does it reveal about the culture of institutions?
Institutions, like people, carry memory – and that memory doesn’t change overnight. When I joined as SDM in Nurpur back in 1974, even basic protocol like a salute was withheld. At my very first meeting with the DC in Dharamshala, I overheard someone saying, “Why do girls join the services?” It was meant to dismiss me before I even began.
I knew that political and cultural sensitivities would weigh heavily, but professional resolve had to be stronger. What I realised then, and what I tell young officers now, is this – institutions eventually come around if you deliver. React in anger, and you confirm the doubts. Respond with outcomes, and you transform skepticism into respect.
The Antyodaya programme in Solan, where you attempted 100% identification of the poorest in one go, was a departure from incrementalistic governance. How did that go by within the existing bureaucratic frameworks?
The system prescribed 20 percent identification at a time – safe, incremental, and blame-proof. But poverty doesn’t wait. So I asked: why not identify 100 percent in one sweep? It would be a win-win situation, my team members agreed.
It was ambitious, especially with a daughter less than a year-old daughter. But that became my strength. I didn’t want anyone to say later, “She couldn’t do it because she’s a woman.” I brainstormed with my team, divided work, and built checks so we wouldn’t falter.
When the Agriculture Pricing Committee came to verify, they found 98 percent coverage proved accurate. The CM personally appreciated the effort. For me, the lesson was clear: in government, you don’t always have to break rules – sometimes it’s enough to stretch their logic until the results speak for themselves. What matters is not gender, but vision, grit, and teamwork.
You served during the Emergency. What does that period reveal about authority and obedience in civil services?
The Emergency was a real test. Orders came to silence opposing voices. Many officers complied, but my conscience told me that my duty was to the Constitution, not just to the power at the time.
Some colleagues asked, “Aren’t you afraid this will damage your career?” Of course I was concerned. But I also believed that governance only has meaning if officers stand by the Constitution. Eventually, the government respected my stance, and my district stayed peaceful.
After all, integrity isn’t just an ideal; it’s a strategy for professional longevity. Once people know where you stand, that becomes your greatest strength.
You also had a remarkable stint at AIIMS as Deputy Director, where you dealt with issues of land, housing, and finance. How did that experience go?
AIIMS was a fascinating posting because I was a non-medical Deputy Director. I noticed that while AIIMS was world-class in medicine, its infrastructure was struggling. Much of its land was under unauthorised occupation, while many employees lacked housing.
When I began vacating the land, I faced political, administrative, and even legal pushback. At one point, a stay order was brought in, influenced by a local politician who feared losing voter support if people were shifted. Instead of confrontation, I chose persuasion. With the Director’s backing, we resolved it.
Financing was an even bigger challenge. AIIMS was created by an Act of Parliament, so it couldn’t raise loans. We reached out to the Planning Commission, the Finance Ministry, and even the Speaker of the Lok Sabha, who had the bye-laws amended through a circular. We took a loan from SBI and repaid it by working with the Health Ministry to channel leftover budget funds that would otherwise have lapsed at the end of the financial year. This gave us the resources to buy 50 Asiad Village flats for the doctors.
It was a defining time: with the right coalition and timing, even complex institutions can be moved. Later, in my UN assignments, I often drew on this experience while negotiating budgets with governments or building health infrastructure.
Your global assignments – from setting up well-women clinics in Sri Lanka to persuading Bangladeshi clerics to speak on HIV/AIDS – show deep engagement with local culture. How do you reconcile universal policy goals with deeply entrenched social or religious norms?
The key is to translate universal goals into local idioms. Maternal health, reproductive rights, HIV prevention – these are universal, yes. But they only succeed when expressed in ways that communities can accept.
In Sri Lanka, I worked with Buddhist monks to start “well-women clinics” for post-maternity care, menopause, and cancers. In Maldives, the parameters improved once we framed interventions in terms of family well-being. In Bangladesh, the turning point came when religious began addressing maternal health in their sermons–coupled with better services, this led to a steep decline in maternal mortality. And in the Philippines, where contraceptives were banned, I relied on constitutional arguments and coalition building to make progress.
If you only argue policy, you meet resistance. But if you find a culturally sanctioned entry point, change doesn’t just happen; it endures.
You have seen both India and abroad as an administrator. From your perspective, how should the next generation of bureaucrats approach sharing agency, incentives, and accountability down the line?
As an IAS officer, you carry your kinship networks, familiarity with local institutions, and a certain insider legitimacy. Yet the challenges vary. In Himachal, I saw committed officers navigating intense power contests. In Punjab, I saw how centralisation could encourage unhealthy practices.
In international postings, the dynamics were different. You are an outsider negotiating with a government that is not answerable to you. In Sri Lanka, my IAS training in crisis management helped, but the distrust of Indians at the time – after the IPKF episode – was real. In Bangladesh, I was seen both as a UN official and as an Indian. Colleagues with experience in neighbouring governments brought trusted relationships that greatly improved our programme’s results.
What I came to believe is this: good administrators practice what I call “micro-autonomy.” It means giving your team decision-space, while setting clear metrics and ethical boundaries. You trust them to take initiative, and you help them learn from mistakes without tearing them down. When people feel dignity along with accountability, they deliver their best.
For today’s aspirants and young officers, what mindsets do you believe are most urgent for delivering public service?
I would say three things. First, don’t stop at execution. Always ask why the order exists, and whether it’s serving people. That habit of reflection makes you a real asset.
Second, remember that power naturally tends to centralise. As a leader, your responsibility is to spread it – to build teams and systems that keep working even after you are gone.
Third, and most important: keep your spirit alive. Transfers, pressures, political pulls – they will all come. I faced them too. But when your spirit stays intact, you can still serve with courage, empathy, and dignity.
That’s what I tell young people now in my talks and coaching sessions: “your true strength is not the designation you hold, but your ability to stay human while exercising power”
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Views are personal.