Karnataka’s Rohith Vemula Bill is a necessary jolt to campus casteism
In a nation that proudly inscribes equality and dignity into its constitutional bedrock, the persistent spectre of caste discrimination within its premier educational institutions remains a profound and shameful contradiction. Universities, meant to be the crucibles of merit and the melting pots of diverse thought, often function instead as subtle, yet brutal, enforcers of ancient social hierarchies.
The tragic suicide of Rohith Vemula in 2016 at the University of Hyderabad was not merely the loss of a bright young scholar but a devastating indictment of a system that allows institutional apathy and entrenched prejudice to crush the spirit of its most marginalised students. His final words - ‘fatal accident of birth’, seared the reality of campus caste bias into the national consciousness, forcing an uncomfortable, vital debate. Now, nearly a decade later, the Karnataka government has responded to that clarion call with a powerful legislative tool: The Karnataka Rohith Vemula (Prevention of Exclusion or Injustice) (Right to Education and Dignity) Bill, 2025. This proposed law is a radical and necessary attempt to translate constitutional ideals into an enforceable campus reality, providing a critical legal framework where currently, only moral outrage exists.
The essence of Vemula’s tragedy lay in what activists call ‘systemic casteism’, a death by a thousand institutional cuts. As a PhD scholar and a vocal member of the Ambedkar Students’ Association (ASA), Vemula and four other students were socially boycotted and eventually suspended from the hostel after a dispute with a right-wing student group. The University’s actions, including withholding his research fellowship, were seen by many as a direct result of political pressure fuelled by his Ambedkarite activism, culminating in his suicide.
While the legal findings regarding his exact caste status became a political and judicial controversy, the underlying issue is the immense vulnerability of students from Scheduled Castes (SC), Scheduled Tribes (ST), Other Backward Classes (OBC) and minorities to targeted exclusion and administrative harassment remained undeniable. The existing legal recourse, primarily the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989, proved inadequate for addressing the subtler, yet equally damaging, forms of discrimination that occur within the educational bureaucracy.
The Karnataka Bill seeks to fill this specific lacuna by focusing exclusively on the higher education sector. Its most ground-breaking feature is the explicit definition and criminalisation of two crucial categories of discrimination: institutional discrimination and indirect discrimination. Institutional discrimination targets caste bias rooted in the structural processes of a university, such as biased admissions, skewed research committee selections or discriminatory rules in hostels and canteens that systematically disadvantage SC/ST students. Indirect discrimination covers seemingly neutral actions or policies that, in practice, disproportionately harm marginalised groups. The Bill mandates the creation of an Equity Committee in every institution, modelled on the Internal Complaints Committee for sexual harassment, to receive and address caste-based complaints, offering a civil remedy pathway before escalation.
For individual perpetrators of discrimination, penalties range from a written apology to a one-year jail term and a ₹10,000 fine for a first offence, with a three-year sentence and a ₹one lakh fine for repeat offences. Most significantly, institutions themselves can be fined between ₹one lakh and ₹10 lakh, and the State Government is empowered to withhold all financial aid and grants from non-compliant universities, thus ensuring institutional accountability, a feature long missing from Indian anti-discrimination law.
Divided response:
This proposed legislation has been met with both widespread acclaim from social justice activists and fierce criticism from political opponents and some sections of the academic community. The positive side is clear: the Bill offers the most potent legal defence yet against systemic casteism in campuses. By recognising institutional discrimination, it shifts the focus from individual malice to structural reform, forcing universities to dismantle the subtle power dynamics that facilitate exclusion. It provides a formal, cognisable and non-bailable legal mechanism for victims, thereby strengthening the right to dignity and equal access to education. It is an acknowledgment that a student’s right to an education free from prejudice is a fundamental right, not a privilege.
However, the Bill’s controversial side cannot be ignored. Critics argue that existing laws like the SC/ST Act and the constitutional mandate against untouchability are sufficient and that the new legislation is an example of political overreach. More pointedly, concerns have been raised that the stringent non-bailable clauses and the power to withdraw state funding could lead to ‘reverse discrimination’ or be weaponised for political vendettas, especially against institutions or faculty perceived as unsympathetic to the ruling political ideology.
The absence of specific penalties for malicious or false complaints, a frequent criticism of similar laws, is another point of worry, which opponents argue erodes legal safeguards and creates a presumption of guilt against the dominant caste.
Despite the valid concerns regarding potential misuse, the core philosophy of the Karnataka Bill addressing the systemic, everyday reality of caste bias in higher education is fundamentally sound and must be adopted by other states across India. The caste system is a pan-Indian phenomenon, and the trauma of exclusion is universal, transcending state boundaries, as demonstrated by Vemula’s case in Hyderabad and countless other incidents across the country.
The lack of a specific, robust and institutionally focused law is precisely what allows subtle discrimination to flourish under the radar of the SC/ST Act, which is primarily focused on physical atrocities.
For this reason, the Karnataka model which defines systemic discrimination and mandates internal accountability mechanisms through an Equity Committee, offers a template for creating truly inclusive educational environments. To mitigate the risk of misuse, future iterations of the Bill in other states could incorporate stronger safeguards and a clear, multi-tiered process of investigation before the non-bailable and financial penalty clauses are invoked. Nevertheless, central legislative innovation is essential.
Ultimately, the true value of the Rohith Vemula Bill is its symbolic and practical potential to redefine campus culture. It is a powerful affirmation that the promise of a meritocratic, equitable India cannot be fulfilled if its temples of learning remain bastions of inherited privilege. Passing this law is not merely a political gesture; it is a moral imperative that honours the memory of Rohith Vemula by making his struggle the basis for a lasting institutional change.
It signals to every student from a marginalised background that their right to learn, debate and thrive is non-negotiable and that their dignity will be legally protected. The day a student is judged solely by their intellect and not their surname, will be the day the promise of the Indian Constitution is finally fulfilled.
Karnataka has taken the first decisive step; the rest of India must follow suit towards ensuring social justice.
(The writer is a former Principal and founder of Supporting Shoulders NGO)
