Explained : UGC’s Clampdown Rekindles an Old Fire and Its Impact

By Vickram Kilpady

Caste has returned to the headlines—and how. Almost 40 years after the Mandal Commission agitation convulsed the nation, the University Grants Commission’s (UGC) new regulations notified on January 13, 2026, to curb caste discrimination on campuses have reopened a familiar Pandora’s box.

Several petitioners recently moved the Supreme Court seeking to have the regulations declared unconstitutional and ultra vires, arguing that they trample upon the fundamental right to equality. In the alternative, the petitions sought amendments to make the regulations non-discriminatory towards non-OBC, non-SC/ST communities—the so-called general category. The apex court has since then ordered the regulations be kept in abeyance till March 19 until it got a closer look while finding them too sweeping.

Before plunging into the fracas over what the new regulations say, it bears recalling why they exist at all. The Supreme Court had earlier directed the UGC to frame laws to prevent discrimination in higher educational institutions, particularly in the aftermath of the suicides of Rohith Vemula in 2016 and Payal Tadvi in 2019. Their mothers had petitioned the Court to ensure that no more students from Scheduled Castes were driven to such extremes by institutional prejudice.

The provision that has provoked the sharpest backlash is Regulation 3(c) of the 2026 Regulations, which defines “caste-based discrimination” as discrimination solely against members of the Scheduled Castes, Scheduled Tribes, and Other Backward Classes. Upper-caste groups argue that they too face caste-based hostility, but are excluded from the protective framework. They have also sought caste-neutral language and safeguards against allegedly false complaints.

One of the petitions, filed by Mrityunjay Tiwari, argued that the definition “institutionalises exclusion at the threshold, creates a hierarchy of victimhood, and introduces a constitutionally impermissible bias into a regulatory framework that purports to be neutral and inclusive.”

The plea contended that the regulation rests on an untenable presumption—that caste discrimination can operate only in one direction. By foreclosing, as a matter of law, the possibility that individuals from general or upper castes might also face caste-based abuse or institutional prejudice, it ignores evolving social realities. More damningly, the petition argued, the regulation defeats its own stated objective under Regulation 2: to eradicate discrimination on grounds, including caste, particularly against SCs, STs, OBCs, EWS groups, and persons with disabilities. By restricting caste-based discrimination exclusively to certain groups, the regulations risk legitimising “reverse discrimination” while undermining the National Education Policy’s promise of equity and inclusion.

The plea also took strong exception to what it calls the conflation of Other Backward Classes with “castes”. The Constitution, it argued, deliberately uses the term “backward classes” under Articles 15(4) and 16(4), not castes per se. In Indra Sawhney vs Union of India (1992), the Supreme Court clarified that while a caste may constitute a class if it is socially and educationally backward, caste and class are not synonymous. By defining caste-based discrimination exclusively in relation to notified backward classes, Regulation 3(c) mischaracterises constitutionally recognised “classes” as castes alone, while excluding others who may suffer caste-based hostility regardless of class status.

Adding fuel to the fire, Bareilly District Magistrate Alankar Agnihotri recently resigned in protest against what he termed a “black law,” warning that it would promote caste conflict and divide the nation. His resignation has been widely circulated on social media as validation of upper-caste anxieties.

Ironically, exclusions of this nature are hardly unprecedented. The Citizenship (Amendment) Act excluded Muslims from neighbouring countries from its ambit, a move hailed by right-wing supporters and denounced by liberals as violative of Article 14. The Overseas Citizen of India framework similarly bars applicants from Pakistan and Bangladesh. Exclusion, it would appear, has become a feature rather than a bug of the legal system.

On the same day advocates sought urgent listing of the UGC petitions, Chief Justice of India Justice Surya Kant sharply rebuked two petitioners who claimed minority status. Upon learning that they were Jats who had recently converted to Buddhism, the Court dismissed the petition outright—an episode that only underscored the judiciary’s growing impatience with opportunistic identity claims.

Meanwhile, caste groups—particularly in Uttar Pradesh—have staged protests and pushed the hashtag #UGCRollBack aggressively online. While some demonstrations, including one outside the UGC office in Delhi, were modest at best, the digital traction continues to grow. Rashtriya Janata Dal Spokesperson Manoj Jha mocked the situation on X, noting sarcastically that police security had been beefed up to control a protest that appeared to consist of barely four people.

For the BJP, however, the deeper unease lies elsewhere. In Uttar Pradesh, groups of Brahmin legislators have been holding closed-door meetings to discuss what they see as mounting challenges to their community. Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath, a Thakur, is viewed with suspicion by some. The recent lathi-charge on Jyotishpeeth Shankaracharya Avimukteswaranand and his supporters during the Magh Mela in Prayagraj has only intensified resentment among upper-caste groups.

The all-unifying Hindutva project, long projected as transcending caste, now appears under strain—fracturing caste by caste, or caste versus caste. With Uttar Pradesh heading into assembly elections next year, the much-touted “double-engine” government is beginning to sputter, misfire, and show unmistakable signs of wear and tear.