Thirty years after Parliament enacted the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989, a landmark review of the law has concluded that the promise of justice for Dalits and Adivasis remains far from realised.
Published by the Human Rights Advocacy and Research Foundation (HRF), The Elusive Search for Justice: 30 Year Review of the SCs & STs (PoA) Act brings together the work of former civil servants, lawyers, academics, human rights defenders and Dalit rights activists to assess how India’s principal anti-atrocities legislation has functioned over three decades. Across its chapters, the report paints a troubling picture of rising atrocities, persistently low conviction rates, and poor implementation of victim compensation schemes, weak monitoring mechanisms, and widespread institutional failures that continue to undermine access to justice. The report’s central conclusion is that while Parliament has repeatedly strengthened the law through amendments and expanded protections for victims, the institutions responsible for implementing these safeguards have largely failed to match the law’s ambition.
Among the most revealing contributions to the volume is a chapter by activist, writer and human rights defender Vidya Bhushan Rawat, who examines the functioning of the Act in Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand and Haryana. While the broader report identifies national trends of weak implementation and institutional apathy, Rawat’s chapter shows how these failures manifest on the ground, in police stations, district administrations, courts and villages across northern India.
Unlike chapters that focus on legislative history or national statistics, Rawat’s contribution is rooted in lived experiences. Drawing on field investigations, case studies, Right to Information disclosures and years of engagement with Dalit communities, he examines the obstacles faced by survivors seeking justice under the PoA Act. Rawat’s account suggests that the greatest barriers often emerge not in the courtroom but much earlier, at the stages of complaint registration, investigation and administrative response.
Rawat’s central argument is that the crisis confronting the PoA Act is no longer one of legislative inadequacy. Over three decades, Parliament has progressively strengthened the law, expanded the list of recognised offences, enhanced victim protections and introduced new accountability mechanisms. Yet the effectiveness of these provisions ultimately depends upon the willingness of police officers, prosecutors, district administrations and local governments to enforce them. It is at this level, he argues, that the law repeatedly breaks down.
The result is a system in which the formal existence of legal rights often bears little resemblance to the realities experienced by Dalit survivors attempting to access protection, accountability and justice.
The hidden crisis behind atrocity statistics
Rawat begins by challenging a common assumption that official crime statistics adequately capture the scale of caste violence.
For many observers, NCRB data provides the principal measure of atrocities committed against Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes. Rawat argues that these figures reveal only a fraction of the reality. The larger problem, he suggests, lies in the vast number of incidents that never enter official records at all.
Across Uttar Pradesh and neighbouring states, Dalit complainants frequently encounter resistance at the very first stage of the criminal justice process. Police officials may refuse to register FIRs under the PoA Act, dilute charges, classify incidents as ordinary criminal disputes, or encourage parties to arrive at informal compromises. In many villages, survivors must navigate local power structures before they can even reach a police station.
The consequence is that official statistics may reflect only those cases that successfully overcome multiple layers of institutional resistance.
Rawat argues that any assessment of the PoA Act that relies exclusively on registered cases risks overlooking the structural barriers that prevent countless incidents from being formally recognised as atrocities in the first place.
Uttar Pradesh: The limits of legal protection
Among the three states examined, Uttar Pradesh occupies a central place in Rawat’s analysis. The state has long recorded some of the highest numbers of crimes against Scheduled Castes in the country. Yet Rawat contends that these figures tell only part of the story. The deeper problem lies in the persistent inability of victims to secure meaningful justice after a case is reported.
According to the chapter, many police officials continue to approach caste atrocities through the lens of local disputes rather than recognising them as manifestations of entrenched social discrimination. Complaints are often discouraged, investigations delayed, and statutory provisions under the PoA Act either ignored or improperly applied.
Rawat argues that this administrative response reflects a broader reluctance within state institutions to confront caste power directly. Rather than functioning as neutral enforcers of the law, institutions frequently mirror the social hierarchies that the legislation was intended to challenge.
The Case of Shivam: A child, a crushed arm, and a system that failed
To illustrate these dynamics, Rawat recounts the case of Shivam, an eight-year-old Dalit child from Jaunpur district whose arm was allegedly crushed in a sugarcane-crushing machine owned by an upper-caste family in December 2015.
The incident should have triggered an immediate legal response. Instead, according to the account presented in the chapter, the family encountered resistance from law-enforcement authorities when they sought to pursue the matter. Efforts to register a complaint were allegedly met with indifference, while those assisting the family reportedly faced hostility from officials.
What makes the case particularly significant for Rawat is not merely the injury itself but the social environment surrounding it.
The family belonged to a community economically dependent upon dominant-caste landowners. Villagers were reportedly unwilling to speak openly about the incident, fearing repercussions. The imbalance of power was such that even seeking justice carried social and economic risks. Ultimately, concerns for safety and survival reportedly forced the family to leave the village.
For Rawat, the episode demonstrates how caste violence cannot be understood solely as a criminal act. It is sustained by relationships of economic dependence, social exclusion and institutional indifference that make accountability exceptionally difficult to achieve.
Hundreds of cases, no convictions
Perhaps the most striking evidence presented in the chapter comes from information obtained through Right to Information applications in eastern Uttar Pradesh. Seeking to understand how the PoA Act functioned in practice, activists requested data from police authorities in Deoria and Kushinagar districts regarding cases registered under the Act between 2015 and 2019.
The responses revealed a startling pattern. In Deoria district, 568 cases had reportedly been registered under the Act across seventeen police stations during the five-year period. Yet not a single conviction had been secured. In neighbouring Kushinagar district, 754 cases had reportedly been registered across thirteen police stations during the same period. Again, there was not a single conviction. For Rawat, these figures are among the most compelling indicators of institutional failure.
The issue is not merely that convictions are low. Rather, the complete absence of convictions despite hundreds of registered cases raises fundamental questions about investigations, prosecutions, witness protection and judicial outcomes. Such figures suggest a justice system in which the formal registration of cases does not necessarily translate into accountability.
The chapter argues that marginalised communities such as Mushahars and Doms—among the most socio-economically vulnerable groups in the region—face particular obstacles in sustaining legal battles against socially and politically influential perpetrators.
Haryana and the Bhagana struggle
The chapter also revisits the Bhagana movement in Haryana, one of the most prominent Dalit rights struggles in recent years. The Bhagana episode became emblematic of the vulnerabilities faced by Dalit communities confronting dominant-caste power structures. Rawat argues that despite national attention and public mobilisation, many affected families continued to face displacement, insecurity and uncertainty long after the initial incidents.
The chapter questions whether state institutions have meaningfully addressed the grievances of survivors or ensured accountability for those responsible. Years after the events, the promise of rehabilitation and justice remained largely unrealised.
For Rawat, Bhagana exemplifies a recurring pattern visible across many atrocity cases: public outrage may generate temporary visibility, but institutional follow-through remains weak.
Uttarakhand: When administrative structures complicate justice
Rawat’s discussion of Uttarakhand focuses particularly on the Jaunsar region, where he raises concerns about the interaction between social realities and administrative classifications.
According to the chapter, the widespread Scheduled Tribe classification in the region has created complex challenges for the implementation of the PoA Act. Rawat argues that social hierarchies and discriminatory practices continue to exist despite official classifications that often obscure these realities. The chapter points to continuing experiences of exclusion faced by communities such as the Kolta and Bajagi. Practices associated with untouchability, restrictions on social participation and entrenched caste hierarchies, Rawat argues, remain part of everyday life in many areas.
Rawat’s broader concern is that administrative categories sometimes fail to reflect the actual distribution of social power on the ground. When legal frameworks are built upon such classifications, opportunities for accountability may be weakened. The Jaunsar example thus serves as a reminder that the effectiveness of anti-discrimination laws depends not only on legal provisions but also on the accuracy with which institutions understand social realities.
The Larger Lesson: The problem is enforcement
Running through the chapter is a consistent theme. The PoA Act has not failed because Parliament neglected to create legal protections. Successive governments have expanded the law, strengthened penalties, increased compensation, established monitoring mechanisms and introduced procedural safeguards.
Yet none of these measures can succeed when the institutions responsible for implementation remain unwilling or unable to act. Across Uttar Pradesh, Uttarakhand and Haryana, Rawat identifies recurring patterns: reluctance to register cases, weak investigations, pressure on victims to compromise, social and economic intimidation of witnesses, delays in prosecution and negligible accountability for officials who fail to perform their duties.
The cumulative effect is the creation of a justice system that often places the burden of enforcement upon the very communities it was designed to protect.
Thirty years after the enactment of the PoA Act, Rawat’s assessment is sobering. The greatest challenge facing India’s anti-atrocities framework is no longer the absence of legal safeguards. It is the persistence of caste power within the institutions responsible for enforcing them.
As long as that reality remains unchanged, the chapter suggests, the promise of justice embodied in the PoA Act will continue to remain beyond the reach of many Dalit survivors.
The complete chapter may be read below:
The complete report may be read below:
Detailed story on the complete report may be accessed here.
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