A right step towards ending social boycott

Karnataka’s newly proposed Social Boycott (Prevention, Prohibition and Redressal) Bill, 2025, marks a significant step forward in the state’s long tryst with social justice. In a society where community honour and informal power networks often override constitutional freedoms, the legislation acknowledges an uncomfortable truth: social boycott is not an outdated remnant of caste custom, but a continuing, insidious instrument of coercion across Karnataka’s villages and towns. Critics may ask why a separate law is necessary when the Scheduled Castes and the Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989, already criminalises such boycotts, especially after its 2015 amendment defined the offence explicitly. The answer is clear: the central legislation protects only SC and ST communities. In reality, ostracism cuts across caste and community, triggered by inter-caste marriages, personal disputes, defiance of local hierarchies, or even assertion of individual liberty. A community-agnostic law was required to plug this gap.

Maharashtra recognised this need nearly a decade ago with its pioneering 2016 social boycott law. Karnataka, though late, arrives at a timely moment. Recent incidents have laid bare how extra-judicial bodies such as caste panchayats and local sabhas continue to enforce their writ, subverting constitutional rights and State authority alike. In Shivamogga, a Jogi community family was ostracised and fined after an inter-caste marriage. In Chitradurga, a disabled couple faced punitive isolation, while the woman’s parents were penalised for sheltering them. In Yadgir, nearly 250 Dalits were denied access to shops, temples, and public spaces after refusing to withdraw a POCSO-related police complaint. These are not isolated excesses; they are systematic attempts to strip citizens of dignity and livelihood.

This is why the Bill’s broad definition of social boycott matters. Among its nearly 20 listed grounds are denial of access to public or religious spaces, expulsion from community life, obstruction of trade or employment, imposition of dress or language codes, and restrictions on burial or worship. These are not hypothetical possibilities, but documented practices across the state. The Bill also targets community assemblies that enforce such boycotts, prescribes imprisonment and fines, and appoints a Social Boycott Prohibition Officer for monitoring and enforcement. Yet law alone cannot undo social tyranny. Karnataka’s experience with the SC/ST Act — scarred by low conviction rates — warns that enforcement, not enactment, will determine success. Equally, caution is essential. A powerful legal instrument must never become a political tool weaponised for vendetta or selective targeting. Karnataka has taken an important step towards dismantling extra-legal authority. If applied with resolve and fairness, it can help establish the spirit of constitutional equality that affirms every citizen’s right to live with dignity and freedom.