Who Gets to Roar Like a Tigress? Neoliberalism, Marketised Education and Caste Inequality

India has expanded education as a formal right while simultaneously allowing the conditions under which that right is exercised to become increasingly differentiated by market capacity. Because market capacity is structured by caste and class, the marketisation of education can undermine the equalising function that constitutional education rights were intended to serve.

 

Article 21A, inserted through the Constitution (Eighty-Sixth Amendment) Act, 2002, establishes free and compulsory education as a fundamental right for all children between six and fourteen years of age. The Right of Children to Free and Compulsory Education Act, 2009, provides the statutory framework for implementing this constitutional guarantee. This places an obligation on the government to ensure that free and compulsory education reaches children across the most disadvantaged sections of society.

However, there is an evident gap between what the Constitution proclaims education must be, namely, not a private commodity, and what is happening under a neoliberal economic structure. While the right to education is formally universal, as it should be, the quality and conditions under which that right is delivered remain deeply unequal, disproportionately affecting the most vulnerable sections of society, particularly students from SC/ST communities.

In India, there are broadly two types of institutional spaces that provide education and shape the kind of education, exposure, infrastructure, and social networks available to a child: private schools and public schools. Private schools operate through fees and market demand, with annual fees ranging from thousands to several lakhs of rupees, and reaching as high as ₹28–30 lakh in some elite schools. Their appeal is often associated not only with classroom teaching but also with advanced infrastructure, English-language education, extracurricular opportunities, technology, and claims of global exposure. Government schools, by contrast, depend substantially on public expenditure and government provision. A 2025 national survey indicates that average annual household expenditure per child in non-government schools was ₹25,002, compared with ₹2,863 in government schools, making household expenditure on non-government schooling nearly nine times higher.

The government budget for School Education and Literacy, as per the latest available Union Budget 2026–27, is ₹83,562 crore, of which around 70–80% goes towards salaries and administrative costs, leaving substantially less budget for infrastructure, school advancements, and labs. This substantially impacts the passing rate of students and the quality of education they receive.

When a private-educated student and a public-educated student enter a university, the field becomes unequal and highly disadvantageous for public-school students. It is within this unequal field that the neoliberal commodification of education becomes particularly important, as access to better educational opportunities increasingly depends on one’s ability to pay.

Neoliberalism places considerable emphasis on markets, competition, individual choice, and the withdrawal or restructuring of direct state provision. When applied to education, these principles can transform education from a predominantly public responsibility into a service increasingly mediated by market mechanisms. It drives the privatisation of government schools, turning education into a marketable commodity driven by competition, choice, and profit. This is what can be seen in the Indian education system.

Rather than increasing funding and upgrading public schools, the right-wing government has used policies to systematically transfer school ownership, management, or funding to private entities. This has resulted in the closure or merger of 94,000 government schools since 2014, as per a NITI Aayog report. That is 25 public schools per day. On the other hand, private unaided schools grew from 2.88 lakh to roughly 3.39 lakh.

This systematic institutional mobility of schools has resulted in two major shifts. First, the migration of public-school students towards private schools, numbering around 86 lakh. Second, those unable to transfer to or pay for private schools were denied their fundamental right to education.

Such consequences of this marketisation cannot be separated from India’s existing social structure. The ability to choose between schools is itself socially differentiated in India, as income, wealth, social capital, geography, and caste are already unequally distributed.

According to the UDISE+ (Unified District Information System for Education) school database system, around 68.7% of ST students and 62.4% of SC students rely on government schools. For them, public schools continue to function as a major educational lifeline.

A wealthy household facing declining public provision can respond by purchasing private education. A poor household may not have that option. The same policy therefore produces different consequences for different social groups. And therefore, when public education is weakened and monetised, the consequences are not distributed evenly across society, with SC and ST communities bearing a disproportionate share of the impediment.

Furthermore, the incumbent government has allocated just 4% of its GDP to education instead of the 6% recommended by NEP 2020. This gap in allocation, combined with the residual income gap among people, inadequate facilities, and caste domination in government schooling, provides a stark contrast between the constitutional right to formal educational inclusion and substantive equality in education.

In this class and caste divide, SC and ST students are among the most vulnerable. The inequality that begins with access to education continues into the opportunities available to students, eventually contributing to economic inequality. This creates a vicious circular system of unequal education.

unequal schooling → unequal educational attainment → unequal skills and credentials → unequal employment opportunities → reproduction of economic inequality.

Public schooling in India is not simply about education; it is also a political question. In India, neoliberal governance and right-wing politics are lovers, bound together in the making and remaking of the state’s approach to public education. Here, neoliberal restructuring can generate social and economic crises that produce grievances and uncertainty, which right-wing populism can then mobilise politically. In turn, right-wing populism can reinforce the same neoliberal restructuring by redirecting these grievances, generating doubt and distrust towards alternative political and economic narratives, and weakening challenges to the prevailing order.

The recent “School Thik Karo” movement by CJP provides a contemporary illustration of such a love story. The campaign involved visits to government schools, interaction with students, and demands for improvements in educational infrastructure and facilities. What government should fear a demand for better schools? However, rather than being understood simply as a demand for better schools, the campaign encountered political resistance, including restrictions on access to schools in Rajasthan and an FIR in Maharashtra.

This points to a broader tension: government schools are public institutions intended to deliver a constitutional right, yet demands for better infrastructure and greater accountability can become politically contentious. And once again, the consequences fall most heavily on those who have the fewest alternatives: SC and ST students.

Their inability to purchase education, or their household’s lack of the resources necessary to exercise that choice, is a systemic failure of neoliberalism. As neoliberal marketisation increasingly determines who can access quality education, the danger is that education itself, which is intended to enable social mobility, may instead reproduce the inequalities it was expected to overcome.

Dr. Babasaheb Ambedkar said, “Education is the milk of a tigress, and he who drinks it will not fail to roar.”

But what happens when that milk is filtered by income, caste, and market access? The milk is no longer the same for everyone. Some receive it diluted and adulterated, while others receive what allows them to roar. Who gets which kind of milk, and who decides?

 

Mrunal Madhuri Milind Dupte is a development economics researcher, anti-caste writer and public speaker working on inequality, Dalit and Buddhist economics.

Thirty Atrocity Cases, One Larger Question: What India’s Caste Violence Data Still Doesn’t Capture

A complaint submitted to the National Commission for Scheduled Castats (NCSC) has brought together 30 reported cases of violence against Dalits from nine states, once again exposing the gap between constitutional safeguards and their enforcement on the ground.

Filed under Article 338(5) of the Constitution, the complaint by the Citizens for Justice and Peace (CJP) asks the Commission to investigate incidents reported between April and June 2025 in Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan, Gujarat, Andhra Pradesh, Himachal Pradesh, Karnataka and Maharashtra. The cases include rape, murder, assault, public humiliation, denial of access to temples and cremation grounds, and attacks on Dalit wedding processions. It also seeks action against public officials accused of failing to discharge their duties under the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989.

None of these forms of violence are unfamiliar. They have appeared repeatedly in atrocity reports, court records and fact-finding exercises for decades. What changes are the names of the victims and the districts in which the crimes occur.

The complaint cites cases such as the alleged rape of a deaf and mute Dalit girl in Rampur, the murder of a 10-year-old Dalit boy in Etah, and the assault of a Dalit groom in Agra who was allegedly forced off his horse because dominant-caste residents objected to the procession. Other incidents involve denial of cremation rights, restrictions on temple entry and caste-based abuse in public.

The incidents span states governed by different political parties. That is significant because it points to a problem that survives electoral change. The SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act has been in force for more than three decades, yet its implementation continues to depend on the willingness of local police, district administrations and prosecutors to invoke it properly. Delays in registering FIRs, omission of relevant provisions of the Act, weak investigations and failures to prosecute public officials who neglect their statutory duties remain recurring complaints in atrocity cases.

The need to strengthen implementation has also found expression outside courtrooms. At a recent community vigilance training programme organised by the Dalit Bahujan Shramik Union in Andhra Pradesh, government officials, lawyers and activists stressed that awareness of the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act remains inadequate even as untouchability, social discrimination and caste violence continue. Advocate P. Chittibabu called for quicker filing of charge sheets so that cases under the Act do not languish in the courts, while participants highlighted the continuing vulnerability of Dalit women and children. The discussion reflected a familiar reality: India has a strong legal framework on paper, but access to justice continues to depend on how consistently that framework is implemented.

Official crime statistics capture only part of this picture. The complaint refers to National Crime Records Bureau data showing tens of thousands of pending investigations and more than 2.6 lakh pending trials involving atrocities against Scheduled Castes, with conviction rates remaining below 40 percent. Those figures indicate that access to justice remains slow even after a case enters the criminal justice system.

They do not, however, capture the full scale of caste violence. The SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act applies to members of Scheduled Castes recognised under the Constitution. Dalits who have converted to Christianity or Islam are excluded from the Scheduled Caste category under the Constitution (Scheduled Castes) Order, 1950, and therefore cannot invoke the Act. Where caste motivates violence against Dalit Christians or Dalit Muslims, such cases are generally prosecuted under ordinary criminal law. As a result, violence rooted in caste often disappears from official atrocity statistics despite the caste motive remaining central to the offence.

The question of implementation has acquired another dimension in recent years. Several incidents involving the custodial torture or death of Dalits have drawn attention to the difficulty of enforcing the PoA Act when the alleged perpetrators are police personnel themselves. In such cases, the institutions responsible for registering offences and conducting investigations are also the institutions facing allegations of abuse. The recent Tamil Nadu trial court judgment sentencing nine police personnel to death for the custodial torture and deaths of P. Jayaraj and J. Benicks during the COVID-19 lockdown is a rare instance of accountability. Yet such outcomes remain exceptional and do little to address the institutional conditions that allow custodial violence to persist.

At the same time, the Supreme Court has reiterated that the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act cannot be invoked mechanically. In Keshaw Mahto @ Keshaw Kumar Mahto v. State of Bihar (2026), the Court held that merely abusing or threatening a person who belongs to a Scheduled Caste does not automatically attract Sections 3(1)(r) or 3(1)(s) of the Act. The prosecution must establish that the insult or intimidation was intentionally directed at humiliating the complainant because of their caste. The ruling, which builds on the Court’s earlier decision in Shajan Skaria v. State of Kerala, emphasises that caste identity alone cannot substitute for proof that the alleged conduct was motivated by caste.

Read alongside the complaint before the NCSC, the Keshaw Mahto ruling highlights a different challenge. While the Supreme Court has reiterated that the PoA Act cannot be invoked mechanically without establishing the statutory ingredients of a caste offence, rights groups continue to document delays in registering FIRs, omission of relevant provisions of the Act and weak investigations even in cases where caste is central to the violence. The issue, therefore, is not simply one of implementation, but of whether the law and its interpretation are adequately equipped to capture the varied and often indirect ways in which caste operates today. If caste discrimination increasingly manifests through readily provable intent, the question is whether the existing legal architecture is sufficient to respond to these evolving forms of caste power.

The complaint asks the NCSC to direct state governments to ensure prompt registration of FIRs, monitor investigations, initiate disciplinary proceedings against officials who neglect their duties, secure compensation and rehabilitation for survivors, and identify atrocity-prone areas requiring sustained monitoring.

Whether the Commission acts on these requests remains to be seen. Similar demands have accompanied previous compilations of caste atrocities, while concerns over delayed investigations, weak prosecutions and official inaction have continued.

The 30 incidents documented in the complaint are spread across different regions and involve different forms of violence. They also expose the limits of how caste violence is officially recorded and addressed. Until implementation of the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act becomes more consistent—and until caste violence against Dalit Christians, Dalit Muslims and victims of custodial abuse is recognised within the wider conversation on caste justice—official numbers will continue to tell only part of the story.

 

Mangesh is a law student from Mumbai, Maharashtra.