In Indian education and bureaucracy, the idea of merit continues to enjoy unquestioned legitimacy. It is a word spoken with reverence—meant to signal fairness, objectivity, and competence. Yet in practice, merit is neither neutral nor universally accessible. It is deeply coded by class, caste, language, and geography. The prevailing approach—anchored to test scores, English fluency, and institutional pedigree—systematically favours the already privileged. Meanwhile, it excludes those whose talent is forged in adversity, often invisible to standard metrics. As interview panels assemble across India for civil services, university recruitments, or competitive academic programmes, the question demands urgent scrutiny: what does merit truly mean, and how should it be evaluated?
To reduce merit to performance in exams is to ignore the terrain on which those exams are written. A student from a well-off, urban household with private schooling and access to mentors will inevitably do better on standardised parameters than someone from a rural Dalit family with no electricity, internet access, or stable schooling. Yet both are judged by the same yardstick.
This conflation of opportunity with ability is intellectually dishonest. It is also unjust. Selection committees across institutions routinely fail to factor in the structural disadvantages that shape individual journeys. Worse, they tend to valorise markers of privilege—elite schools, foreign degrees, polished English—as if these, and not resilience or social insight, were the truest indicators of potential.
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The ‘not found suitable’ racket
The rot goes deeper in academic institutions, particularly in public universities. A recent flashpoint came from Rahul Gandhi’s criticism of how the not found suitable label is selectively applied to reserved category candidates. His term New Manuism struck a chord: here was a euphemism that enabled exclusion while preserving the façade of fairness.
Several scholars have recounted being interviewed for two to three minutes across dozens of Delhi University colleges, only to be rejected as not found suitable. Many were from SC, ST, or OBC backgrounds, trained at top public institutions like JNU and DU. Less qualified candidates, backed by caste networks or institutional clout, sailed through. Representation in senior academic posts remains abysmally skewed despite special recruitment drives and UGC directives. In states like Uttar Pradesh and West Bengal, the pattern of appointing Vice Chancellors from dominant castes remains glaring.
This is not anecdotal. It is systemic. Caste continues to determine who enters elite institutions, who gets shortlisted, who is marked up or down, and who is allowed to teach or lead. In such a climate, the claim that merit is caste-blind rings hollow.
Empirical myths and caste codes
Several researchers have methodically dismantled the idea of caste-neutral merit. Professor Ashwini Deshpande’s work at Ashoka University shows that surnames like Paswan or Munda carry a wage penalty, even when qualifications match those of upper-caste counterparts. Professor Sukhdeo Thorat has documented how caste discrimination affects recruitment decisions in both public and private sectors. More recently, Ajanta Subramanian’s The Caste of Merit exposes how elite institutions like the IITs reproduce caste hierarchies under the guise of competitive selection.
Her research reveals that “merit” in India is often a proxy for inherited advantages—access to elite schooling, cultural capital, and English proficiency. These are not universal goods but caste- and class-coded privileges. To mistake them for neutral measures of ability is to uphold exclusion while pretending otherwise.
The tyranny of English and illusion of competence
Language adds another layer to the problem. In many selection processes, English fluency is equated with intelligence. In a country where the majority speak other languages—Hindi, Tamil, Bengali, Marathi, and more—this becomes another axis of exclusion. English operates not just as a medium of instruction but as a gatekeeper, privileging urban elites and marginalising those who think and express themselves differently.
A candidate’s communication style, accent, or lack of polish in English often outweighs the substance of their argument or the insight of their lived experience. The result is a performative version of merit, one that filters in those already trained in elite settings, while shutting out those whose perspectives India arguably needs more.
Why lived experience matters
What, then, should a just measure of merit look like? It should begin by recognising potential, not just performance. Potential is shaped by context. The student who survived domestic violence, poverty, or systemic neglect, and still managed to finish school or qualify for an interview, brings with them rare strength and insight. Their understanding of deprivation is not theoretical—it is lived. Their experiences can inform more grounded, inclusive public policy than the polished answers of someone insulated from struggle.
In policy schools, civil services, and academic spaces, these candidates can serve not just as students or employees, but as critical informants of the society we seek to transform. They carry the voice of the unheard and can act as bridges between policy and people. To exclude them on grounds of English fluency or modest grades is to rob institutions of moral clarity and social relevance.
A call for institutional reform
None of this means lowering standards. On the contrary, it means refining them. Institutions must shift from checklist-style assessments to context-sensitive evaluation frameworks. Interviews should probe not only what a candidate knows, but what they have overcome, how they think, and what values they uphold. Committees must be sensitised to bias—overt and implicit—and encouraged to diversify their benchmarks.
Fluency in English should not be a proxy for capacity. Neither should an elite college name. Marks matter, but they are only part of a larger story. If the goal is to create leaders, policymakers, and scholars who understand India in all its complexity, then institutions must cast their nets wider and deeper.
Towards a merit that builds India
The present model of meritocracy in India is a self-reinforcing loop—it rewards privilege, filters out dissent, and replicates inequality. If left unchallenged, it will continue to build elite institutions filled with sameness, blind spots, and brittle ideas.
India cannot afford that. A just merit system is not about charity or tokenism. It is about building competence through diversity. It is about recognising that someone who has travelled a harder road may see farther. And it is about acknowledging that the country’s true talent pool lies not just in urban enclaves or English-speaking schools, but in every village, basti, and marginalised community.
Redefining merit is not a soft moral gesture. It is hard policy work. And it is long overdue.
Ajay Kumar Gautam is Assistant Professor, Kautilya School of Public Policy, Hyderabad.