John J. Kennedy | Equity on Trial: The UGC’s New Regulations and the Caste Factor

The UGC’s Promotion of Equity in Higher Education Institutions Regulations 2026, notified on January 13, sought to address persistent caste discrimination on Indian campuses. Instead, they had led to protests, legal challenges and a stay order by the Supreme Court, raising concerns about the drafting and scope. The context, however, is tragically real, shaped by cases like Rohith Vemula and Payal Tadvi, whose deaths revealed how caste bias, social exclusion and widespread institutional apathy can devastate students from marginalised communities.

One must admit that the 2012 UGC regulations on caste discrimination were largely advisory and lacked enforcement, making them fairly ineffective. Complaints of caste-based discrimination had steadily risen, more than doubling between 2019-20 and 2023-24, showing that the old framework had failed. Against this backdrop, the 2026 regulations were inevitable. Framed following the Supreme Court’s directions, they make equity mechanisms mandatory through Equal Opportunity Centres, Equity Committees, and formal inquiries. From a social justice perspective, their intent was necessary and long overdue.

Although the Supreme Court has kept the regulations in abeyance, it must be realised that it is not a rejection of equity but a caution about flawed drafting and possible consequences. The court, from its observation, has highlighted a key inconsistency: while Section 3(c) narrowly defines caste-based discrimination as affecting only SCs, STs and OBCs, Section 3(e) broadly defines discrimination as unfair treatment of any stakeholder on grounds such as caste, religion, gender or place of birth, raising the question of why a separate, narrower definition is needed at all when a more inclusive one already exists. The court has also flagged vague language, the scope for misuse and the risk of social division without proper safeguards. The apex court’s call for an expert review may reflect procedural and constitutional concerns, but it is not a denial of caste realities.

However, where the debate becomes political and less evidence-based is in the claim that the regulations will lead to caste-based victimisation of general category students. The procedural concern that general category students may not have equal access to grievance redressal under the caste-specific provisions is a real drafting issue and deserves to get attention. But the stronger claim that upper-caste students are likely to be systematically discriminated against on caste grounds in Indian universities has little credible evidence.

Decades of sociological research, court cases and campus reports show that caste discrimination in India overwhelmingly flows in one direction -- from historically dominant castes and social groups towards Dalits, Adivasis and other backward classes. The lived reality of caste in India is one of entrenched power, privilege and social capital on one side, and stigma, exclusion and vulnerability on the other. Upper castes, as a group, have not historically been sites of caste-based humiliation. On the other hand, they have been, for centuries, sources of cultural authority, institutional dominance and social privilege. This does not mean that some individuals from upper castes cannot face personal harassment, regional bias or unfair treatment. They certainly can.

But that is not the same as being subjected to structural caste discrimination. Notably, there is no body of documented evidence, from UGC data, court cases or major investigations, showing a pattern of caste-based discrimination against upper-caste students comparable to what marginalised students face. The fear of widespread “reverse caste discrimination” therefore appears more speculative than factual.

There is also a historical pattern that cannot be ignored when it comes to such issues. Almost every major social reform in India, from reservations to the Mandal Commission recommendations to anti-discrimination measures, has been met with strong resistance from the privileged sections. These reactions are often framed in the language of merit, fairness and equality, but they are also deeply shaped by anxiety over the loss of long-held advantages. The current protests against the UGC regulations fit this pattern. Isn’t it obvious that many of those leading the protests come from socially and educationally privileged groups? This does not automatically invalidate the procedural concerns. But it does raise a larger question: are these protests primarily about due process and legal clarity, or are they also driven by a deeper discomfort with stronger institutional recognition of caste injustice? When reforms seek to protect the voiceless and the vulnerable, those who have long enjoyed unexamined privilege often experience it as a threat, even when no real penalty is being imposed on them.

The solution to this problem lies in neither abandoning the regulations nor diluting their purpose.

Protecting marginalised students is urgent and backed by ample evidence, and the failure of the 2012 regulations, seen in rising complaints and tragic outcomes, makes inaction indefensible. At the same time, the Supreme Court’s demand for clearer drafting and safeguards requires attention. The UGC must avoid ambiguous language, strengthen procedural protections against misuse, clarify grievance redressal to ensure that all stakeholders are covered, and restore explicit provisions on ragging, which often overlaps with caste and cultural harassment. Far from weakening the fight against caste discrimination, these steps would make the framework more robust, fair and credible.

The central aim of the regulations must remain the protection of the marginalised, where caste oppression is most acute. This does not mean targeting upper-caste students, but it does require honest recognition of caste power and vulnerability. The real choice before the UGC and the government is not equity versus unity, but a sound, constitutional equity framework versus denial and fear. If clarified and strengthened, the regulations can serve their true purpose, not as tools of division, but as instruments of long-overdue justice in Indian higher education.

The writer is retired professor and former dean of the School of Arts and Humanities at Christ University in Bengaluru