For a General Category student navigating higher education in India today, the UGC’s (University Grants Commission’s) proposal to introduce “equity squads” does not feel like a step forward. It feels like a warning. The message it quietly sends is unsettling: academic effort, discipline, and performance are no longer qualities to be encouraged and protected, but problems to be watched, managed, and regulated.
For decades, the understanding was simple. Study hard, compete fairly, and merit would be your currency. That social contract may never have been perfect, but it offered dignity to effort. With every new policy framed as “social correction,” that promise has weakened. The latest framework does little to address the real crises facing Indian universities: overcrowded classrooms, uneven funding, exhausted faculty, and declining academic standards. Instead, it adds another layer of oversight, creating an environment of constant scrutiny without offering students any corresponding protection. The student who only wants to do well now learns to look over their shoulder.
What makes this framework especially disturbing is the absence of balance, or what can only be described as reverse vigilance. Institutions move swiftly to police speech, intent, and conduct in one direction, yet remain conspicuously silent when hostility flows the other way.
Public slogans that openly demean or threaten entire communities have circulated for years, both on campuses and in public discourse. Lines such as “Tilak, taraazu, aur talwar; inko maaro joote chaar” or “Brahmin, Baniya, Thakur, chor; baaki saare DS-4” are not whispered in private corners. They are shouted, shared, and normalised. And yet, no FIRs follow. No equity committees intervene. No institutional inquiries are initiated. If discrimination is defined as hostility based on identity, why does that definition narrow when the target belongs to the General Category? Equity cannot be a one-way street. When it becomes selective, it ceases to be justice and turns into sanctioned silence.
Equally concerning is the degree of unchecked discretion embedded in the proposed mechanism. The framework places significant power in the hands of equity squads without clearly insisting on evidentiary thresholds or procedural safeguards. In effect, action can be triggered by perception rather than proof. An allegation, a subjective grievance, or even personal resentment may be sufficient to invite scrutiny. In such an environment, the boundary between genuine complaint and personal vendetta becomes dangerously porous. A General Category student may find himself under institutional suspicion not for wrongdoing, but because of academic rivalry, personal dislike, or the simple discomfort his presence provokes. When authority can be activated without demonstrable evidence, fear becomes a permanent feature of campus life.
At the same time, merit itself is being quietly redefined. Academic performance is no longer treated as the outcome of individual effort, sacrifice, and perseverance. It is increasingly portrayed as morally suspect, a form of inherited privilege that must be diluted, explained away, or neutralised. When a student who has spent years studying late into the night is made to feel that success requires apology rather than recognition, the incentive to strive erodes. This is not social reform. It marks a steady decline in academic rigour, repackaged as virtue.
The consequences are already visible. High-performing students are leaving India not because they lack commitment to the country, but because they are exhausted. The nation invests in their education for years, only to lose them when they conclude that domestic policy has grown indifferent, and at times hostile, to achievement. Brain drain is not merely a statistic; it is a vote of no confidence in a system that no longer rewards excellence.
The global context sharpens the irony. Indian students abroad already face increasing scrutiny and shrinking opportunities. At such a moment, domestic policy should reassure young achievers that their effort and ability are national assets. Instead, many encounter a system that treats success as a problem to be managed. When the state appears unmoved by those who follow the rules and excel within them, it should not be surprised when those students seek dignity elsewhere.
Equity is an essential democratic aim, and inclusive campuses matter. But equity without balance becomes coercive. Inclusion without due process becomes intimidation. A framework that intensifies surveillance over some students while ignoring open hostility directed at them is not building harmony. It is accumulating quiet resentment and academic withdrawal.
A nation does not become a global power by teaching its most capable students that merit is a liability. It becomes poorer, intellectually and morally, one silent exit at a time.
Disclaimer
This article is an opinion piece written in the public interest. The views expressed are personal and intended to examine policy implications, due process, and the impact of regulatory frameworks on higher education. References to public slogans or statements are made solely for the purpose of critique and analysis, not endorsement. The author opposes discrimination, hostility, and violence in all forms and against all communities. Nothing in this article should be construed as incitement or prejudice toward any individual or group. The examples of slogans are cited to highlight inconsistency in enforcement, not to attribute such views to any community or to legitimise them.