The Contempt That Endures, Caste, Privilege, and the Uproar Over UGC’s Equity Regulations
The outrage triggered among certain socially dominant sections against the University Grants Commission’s (UGC) Promotion of Equity in Higher Education Institutions Regulations, 2026 has reaffirmed B.R. Ambedkar’s characterisation of the caste system as representing “an ascending order of reverence and a descending order of contempt.” The sharp reaction to these regulations exposes the deep unease among privileged social groupings when institutional mechanisms attempt to address entrenched inequalities.
The accompanying analysis by D. Raja, General Secretary of the Communist Party of India, situates this controversy within the broader framework of India’s enduring struggle with caste-based discrimination and the resistance of dominant castes to any measure that threatens their inherited privilege. It reminds us that the regulations were framed to provide institutional remedies to students belonging to the Scheduled Castes (SC), Scheduled Tribes (ST), and Other Backward Classes (OBC) categories, as well as women and persons with disabilities. The regulations enabled such students to register complaints when they faced discrimination or ill-treatment on account of their identities.
The 2026 regulations marked a significant departure from earlier guidelines by mandating the establishment of monitoring committees and introducing a non-compliance clause. These additions made implementation obligatory for universities and colleges. It is this enforceability that appears to have unsettled entrenched interests. The hostility directed at the regulations reflects not exclusion but resistance to constitutional values of justice and equality.
The Data: A 100 Per Cent Rise in Complaints
The regulations were framed against the backdrop of officially acknowledged data showing that complaints of caste-based discrimination in higher education institutions rose by more than 100 per cent over the past five years. This sharp increase does not necessarily mean that discrimination itself has increased at the same rate; it may reflect greater willingness among victims to come forward, improved reporting mechanisms, and reduced tolerance for practices that were previously normalised. But whatever the cause, the data confirms what Dalit, Bahujan, and Adivasi students have long known: that caste discrimination remains pervasive in India’s higher education institutions.
Classrooms, hostels, and campuses are not immune to the prejudices that structure Indian society. Students from marginalised castes face everyday humiliations: exclusion from study groups, derogatory remarks, social isolation, and sometimes overt violence. Teachers and administrators often turn a blind eye, and complaints mechanisms, where they exist, are slow, biased, or ineffective. The UGC’s regulations were designed to address this failure by creating institutional structures for redress and making compliance mandatory.
Ambedkar’s Framework: Graded Inequality and Its Reproduction
The reaction to the regulations, Raja argues, fits squarely within Ambedkar’s analysis of caste as a system that protects privilege while normalising contempt for those placed lower in the hierarchy. Ambedkar famously described caste not merely as a division of labour but as a division of labourers—a system of graded inequality in which each group is assigned a fixed place, and contempt flows downward while reverence flows upward.
This system is not static; it reproduces itself across generations through endogamy, socialisation, and the denial of opportunity. It is sustained not only by explicit discrimination but by the internalisation of hierarchy by those at every level. The privileged come to see their position as natural and deserved; the marginalised may come to see their subordination as inevitable.
The agitation against the UGC regulations, from this perspective, is not a spontaneous expression of concern about due process or institutional autonomy. It is a defence of privilege by those who benefit from the existing order and who recognise that any mechanism for enforcing equality threatens their position.
Historical Echoes: Vivekananda, Narayanan, and the Persistence of Prejudice
Raja invokes two historical episodes to illustrate the persistence of caste-based contempt across time and space. The first involves Swami Vivekananda, who was told that he had no right to become a Sannyasi because he was considered a Shudra by birth. Vivekananda’s response was characteristically clear: “I am not at all hurt if they call me a Shudra,” he said, adding that it would be “a little reparation for the tyranny of my ancestors over the poor.” This episode reveals that even a figure of Vivekananda’s stature could not escape the reach of caste; it also reveals his remarkable capacity to transcend injury and to see the larger historical pattern.
The second episode involves K.R. Narayanan, who was elected President in 1997. When sections of the media asked him how it felt to be the first Dalit President, they revealed the prejudice embedded in their question. Narayanan’s response—“A President is a President”—was a quiet but powerful assertion of constitutional equality. It rejected the framing that reduced his achievement to his caste identity and insisted that the office transcended such categories.
More recently, the incident involving former Chief Justice B.R. Gavai revealed how caste-based contempt continues to be expressed brazenly, irrespective of constitutional position. An advocate hurled a shoe at him in court while shouting, “Sanatan Dharm ka apman nahin sahega Hindustan.” Disturbingly, this act was celebrated within sections of the Hindutva ecosystem. The message was unmistakable: even the highest judicial authority is not immune to caste-based attack when he is seen as transgressing his prescribed place.
Hindutva and Caste: The Hollow Claim of Unity
The agitation against the UGC regulations, Raja argues, exposes the hollowness of Hindutva’s claim to be a unifying force transcending caste. Hindutva ideology presents itself as a movement that brings all Hindus together, overriding the divisions of caste in a shared religious and national identity. But the reality, as Ambedkar warned, is that Hindutva reproduces caste hierarchy by freezing social relations into rigid, unequal structures. It envisions not a casteless Hindu society but one permanently organised around inherited privilege and subordination.
The celebration of the attack on Chief Justice Gavai within sections of the Hindutva ecosystem is not an aberration; it is a logical expression of this ideology. Those who claim to defend “Sanatan Dharma” see caste hierarchy as integral to that Dharma, and they react with fury when anyone who should know their place appears to forget it. The agitation against the UGC regulations is driven by the same impulse: the fear that enforceability mechanisms will upset the natural order of privilege.
The UGC’s Responsibility: Process and Consultation
Raja also notes that the UGC must bear responsibility for ignoring several recommendations of the Parliamentary Standing Committee on Education—particularly those emphasising wider consultation and clearer safeguards. This procedural failure gave ammunition to those opposing the regulations, allowing them to argue that the rules were imposed without adequate debate.
But while process matters, the central issue remains political. The opposition to the regulations is not primarily about process; it is about substance. Those who benefit from caste privilege will resist any measure that threatens that privilege, no matter how carefully crafted the rules. The demand for consultation and safeguards is often a delaying tactic, a way of preventing any action at all.
Conclusion: Annihilating Caste
Ambedkar argued repeatedly that caste is anti-national, that it undermines the very idea of a democratic society based on equality and fraternity. Resistance to measures aimed at annihilating caste and upholding equity amounts to resistance to the constitutional vision of India. The Constitution promises justice, liberty, equality, and fraternity; caste denies all of these.
The UGC Equity Regulations are a small step toward fulfilling that promise. They do not by themselves annihilate caste, but they create mechanisms for redress, they establish accountability, and they signal that discrimination will not be tolerated. The agitation against them is a reminder of how far India still has to travel. It is also a reminder of what is at stake: the vision of a society in which every individual is treated with dignity, regardless of the circumstances of their birth.
The contempt that Ambedkar identified still endures. So does the struggle against it.
Q&A Section
Q1: What are the key provisions of the UGC’s Promotion of Equity in Higher Education Institutions Regulations, 2026, and how do they differ from previous guidelines?
A1: The regulations were framed to provide institutional remedies to students belonging to SC, ST, and OBC categories, as well as women and persons with disabilities, enabling them to register complaints when facing discrimination or ill-treatment based on their identities. The key departure from earlier guidelines is the mandatory establishment of monitoring committees and the introduction of a non-compliance clause. These additions made implementation obligatory for universities and colleges, creating enforceable mechanisms rather than merely advisory guidelines. It is this enforceability that has unsettled entrenched interests, as it transforms the regulations from symbolic gestures into actual tools for accountability. The regulations were framed against the backdrop of officially acknowledged data showing that complaints of caste-based discrimination in higher education institutions rose by more than 100 per cent over the past five years.
Q2: How does the analysis use Ambedkar’s framework to understand the opposition to the UGC regulations?
A2: The analysis invokes Ambedkar’s characterisation of the caste system as representing “an ascending order of reverence and a descending order of contempt” and his description of caste not merely as a division of labour but as a “division of labourers”—a system of graded inequality in which each group is assigned a fixed place, and contempt flows downward while reverence flows upward. From this perspective, the opposition to the regulations is not a spontaneous expression of concern about due process or institutional autonomy but a defence of privilege by those who benefit from the existing order. The hostility reflects resistance not to exclusion but to constitutional values of justice and equality. The privileged recognise that any mechanism for enforcing equality threatens their position, and they react to protect it. Ambedkar’s framework reveals that the agitation is not about the specifics of the regulations but about the fundamental challenge they pose to caste hierarchy.
Q3: What historical examples does the analysis cite to illustrate the persistence of caste-based contempt, and what do they reveal?
A3: The analysis cites three examples. First, Swami Vivekananda was told he had no right to become a Sannyasi because he was considered a Shudra by birth. His response—”I am not at all hurt if they call me a Shudra,” adding that it would be “a little reparation for the tyranny of my ancestors over the poor”—reveals both the reach of caste and his capacity to transcend injury. Second, K.R. Narayanan, when asked how it felt to be the first Dalit President, responded “A President is a President,” exposing the prejudice embedded in the question and asserting constitutional equality. Third, former Chief Justice B.R. Gavai faced an advocate hurling a shoe at him in court while shouting caste-related slogans, an act celebrated within sections of the Hindutva ecosystem. These examples reveal that caste-based contempt persists across time and space, targeting even the most exalted figures when they are seen as transgressing their prescribed place.
Q4: How does the analysis characterise Hindutva’s relationship to caste, and what evidence does it cite to support this characterisation?
A4: The analysis argues that Hindutva’s claim to be a unifying force transcending caste is hollow. Rather than annihilating caste, Hindutva reproduces caste hierarchy by freezing social relations into rigid, unequal structures. It envisions not a casteless Hindu society but one permanently organised around inherited privilege and subordination. The evidence cited includes the celebration of the attack on Chief Justice Gavai within sections of the Hindutva ecosystem. Those who claim to defend “Sanatan Dharma” see caste hierarchy as integral to that Dharma, and they react with fury when anyone who should know their place appears to forget it. The agitation against the UGC regulations is driven by the same impulse: the fear that enforceability mechanisms will upset the natural order of privilege. Hindutva, far from overcoming caste, reproduces its graded inequality.
Q5: What criticism does the analysis level at the UGC itself, and why does this criticism not negate the larger political argument?
A5: The analysis notes that the UGC must bear responsibility for ignoring several recommendations of the Parliamentary Standing Committee on Education—particularly those emphasising wider consultation and clearer safeguards. This procedural failure gave ammunition to those opposing the regulations, allowing them to argue that the rules were imposed without adequate debate. However, the analysis argues that while process matters, the central issue remains political. The opposition to the regulations is not primarily about process; it is about substance. Those who benefit from caste privilege will resist any measure that threatens that privilege, no matter how carefully crafted the rules. The demand for consultation and safeguards is often a delaying tactic, a way of preventing any action at all. The procedural criticism does not negate the larger argument that the agitation reflects resistance to constitutional values of justice and equality.
