5 min readJan 28, 2026 12:33 PM IST
First published on: Jan 28, 2026 at 12:33 PM IST
By Vidyasagar Sharma
On January 13, the University Grants Commission (UGC) notified the “Promotion of Equity in Higher Education Institutions Regulations” to address discrimination in higher education institutions. Several groups view these regulations as the most serious attempt in recent years, bringing concrete measures to confront discriminatory practices on Indian campuses. At first glance, the regulations mandate Equal Opportunity Cells (EOCs), equity committees, helplines, monitoring mechanisms, and even penalties for non-compliance. In letter and spirit, this seems to be a long-overdue response to institutionalised caste discrimination, gendered harassment, and the systemic exclusion of students with disabilities. Expectedly, since the regulations were notified, they have faced opposition from dominant social groups.
Now, the central question is not whether the regulations are well-intentioned, but whether they can meaningfully confront the structural inequalities deeply embedded in the Indian higher education landscape.
The silent structure
The regulations state that every university and college, public or private, must set up an EOC, operate 24×7 equity helplines, publish biannual reports on complaints and demographic details of reported cases, and create internal “equity squads” and “equity ambassadors” on campuses to give immediate attention to incidents of discrimination. They also establish fixed timelines for addressing grievances, and institutions that fail to comply with these directives risk losing UGC funding, accreditation, and recognition.
Building such proposed equity infrastructure requires significant expenses. However, this expense is justified given the seriousness of campus discrimination. For a long time, discrimination in higher education has been treated merely as episodic misconduct rather than as a governance and policy failure. Students from marginalised backgrounds have repeatedly faced social exclusion, humiliation, caste-based abuse, biased evaluation, and, in extreme cases, have led to tragic outcomes, such as suicides. The new equity regulations finally and formally acknowledge that equity is not charity but a mandated statutory obligation to make campuses safe spaces where everyone can forge a sense of belonging.
We must see these regulations as a continuation of other such policy measures that Indian universities had before. For instance, higher education institutions already have a network of grievance cells — anti-ragging committees, internal complaint committees, SC/ST cells — although many of these structures exist largely on paper. The concern is that the new equity architecture, if not properly monitored, would become simply another layer of administrative compliance, accumulating reports and posters rather than changing the very fundamental institutional behaviour.
So, the deeper problem is how “equity” is imagined. According to the regulations, equity means “a level playing field for all stakeholders with respect to the entitlement and opportunity for the enjoyment of all legitimate rights” (p 9). But inequality in higher education is not only about unfair treatment, but also about who holds power and privilege. For instance, faculty recruitment, promotions, research funding, policy decision-making, and academic gatekeeping remain hegemonised by socially privileged groups. The regulations do not require universities to audit biased faculty hiring or unequal representation of marginalised groups in university leadership. Nor do the regulations ask how “merit” is defined or assessed. Addressing equity without examining these structures of oppression risks merely treating symptoms while leaving causes untouched.
A performative move
The regulations place strong emphasis on monitoring and reporting incidents. They require institutions to publish data on complaint and dropout rates. Indeed, transparency is essential, but given the neoliberal nature of higher education, where rankings and reputations are central to institutions’ everyday functioning, universities may feel pressured to underreport such cases rather than confront them justly. Without fair and independent audits, such reporting may merely be a performative move — a way to appear compliant without being transformative, and inclusive without being empathetic.
There is also the concern about capacity building. The proposed structures, such as helplines, counselling services, and others, require resources that many of the state-level higher education institutions lack. The unequal distribution of financial resources to provincial colleges and universities must be prioritised before mandating such measures.
Most importantly, grievance redressal alone cannot undo power asymmetries. We must consider first-generation students, ad hoc and contractual faculty, and non-teaching staff who may be afraid to complain against those who sit in the corridors of decision-making, regardless of procedural safeguards and confidentiality. In several discrimination cases on campuses, we have seen how fear often silences formal rights.
None of this means the regulations should be dismissed. They are a necessary step. Beyond this, we must democratise the university’s social spaces, decision-making, faculty, and leadership. We need to think of regulations as a link between equity and social justice. Our next steps should be taken to create epistemic inclusion on campuses. The UGC’s new regulations have opened the debate, but for equity to become a lived reality for marginalised students on campuses remains a faraway dream.
The writer is a scholar at the Faculty of Sociology, Bielefeld University, Germany
The regulations state that every university and college, public or private, must set up an EOC, operate 24×7 equity helplines, publish biannual reports on complaints and demographic details of reported cases, and create internal “equity squads” and “equity ambassadors” on campuses to give immediate attention to incidents of discrimination. 
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