Caste and the Digital Age

by Aditi Singh

Caste has long shaped the social, economic and political fabric of India. It determines where people live, the work they perform, whom they marry and the opportunities they can access. Many hoped that modernity — especially technology — would weaken caste boundaries. The assumption was simple: the internet would create neutral spaces where identity mattered less than ideas and talent. Yet, the reality is far more complex. In the digital age, caste has not disappeared. Instead, it has adapted, appearing in new forms across online platforms, gig economies, hiring practices, data systems and digital communities.

One of the most visible examples is online harassment. Dalit activists, writers and public figures often face organised trolling when they speak about caste discrimination. The anonymity of the internet allows users to weaponise casteist abuse without accountability. Social media platforms do remove some content, but most caste-based slurs still circulate freely. Unlike in physical spaces, where violence is visible, online casteism operates in shadows, spreading quietly through comments, direct messages and coordinated campaigns. For many Dalit users, digital participation comes with a constant emotional cost.

Caste also influences digital employment. Gig workers — delivery riders, drivers, domestic workers hired through apps — often come from historically marginalised communities. Technology companies present their platforms as equal-opportunity systems driven by algorithms, not bias. But research shows that caste shapes who joins the gig economy, how they are treated and how much they earn. Workers say customers rate them differently based on appearance, language or accent. Some report being denied entry to gated communities because of caste-coded surnames. Algorithms that decide incentives and penalties have little understanding of structural disadvantage. As a result, digital work often reproduces traditional hierarchies instead of breaking them.

Digital hiring in corporate spaces also reflects old patterns. Companies increasingly rely on AI-driven screening tools, which learn from past hiring data. If previous hiring was biased — favouring certain surnames, colleges, regions or English proficiency — then algorithms reinforce that bias. Caste does not always appear explicitly, but it hides within proxies: postcode, school, last name, or even the type of English spoken. Many young Dalit jobseekers describe online interviews where subtle class and caste cues influence decisions long before skill assessments truly begin.

Education technology has widened certain opportunities, but it has also exposed new inequalities. Students from marginalised communities often lack stable internet, devices or quiet spaces for learning. During the pandemic, when schools shifted online, dropout rates rose significantly for Dalit and Adivasi students. Digital classrooms claimed to be inclusive, but they ignored that access itself is shaped by caste and class. Even today, ed-tech platforms assume constant connectivity and financial stability — conditions not available to millions of students.

Caste also appears in data systems. Government welfare programmes increasingly depend on digital verification — Aadhaar, biometric checks, online applications. These systems work smoothly for people with documentation, bank accounts and stable connectivity. But marginalised communities often lack one or more of these elements. A single fingerprint mismatch can deny rations. A broken smartphone can block access to pensions. When the state moves services online without addressing social inequalities, technology becomes another gatekeeper.

Marriage apps are another space where caste thrives in digital clothing. Many platforms openly allow caste-based filters, enabling users to select partners according to community hierarchies. Even apps that market themselves as “modern” or “progressive” quietly support caste preferences through language, region or surname-based suggestions. For many young Indians, digital matchmaking has not challenged caste; it has simply made it easier to enforce it.

At the same time, the digital age has given rise to powerful anti-caste activism. Dalit creators on YouTube, Instagram and X have built audiences that would have been impossible in traditional media. They share stories of discrimination, challenge dominant narratives and create archives of lived experience. Independent digital outlets run by marginalised journalists cover issues mainstream media often ignores. These spaces have become essential in resisting caste violence, documenting everyday inequalities and building new political language.

The digital world has also expanded access to literature and history. Online archives of Dalit writing, Ambedkarite thought and anti-caste movements have made it easier for young people to engage with ideas that were previously limited to academic spaces. This has encouraged cross-regional solidarity, with activists from different parts of South Asia finding shared ground through online networks.

However, the rise of anti-caste voices has also intensified backlash. Activists face trolling, doxxing and targeted disinformation campaigns. Platforms rarely invest in meaningful moderation for caste-based hate, even though it affects millions. Without regulatory pressure, online spaces will continue to privilege dominant-caste voices while punishing those who challenge the status quo.

One of the biggest concerns is the future of AI and automated governance. As technology becomes embedded in policing, hiring, credit access and welfare systems, caste bias risks becoming coded into the digital infrastructure itself. Algorithms trained on historical data inevitably reproduce historical injustice. Without conscious intervention — diverse data sets, ethical oversight, transparent systems — digital tools will make caste discrimination harder to see but easier to scale.

At the same time, digital platforms offer an opportunity to reimagine social structures. When used responsibly, technology can amplify marginalised voices, expand economic opportunities and create new forms of community. The challenge is ensuring that these benefits are not limited to a privileged few. Breaking caste in the digital age requires more than access to devices. It requires intentional policy, ethical technology design, community participation and accountability from both state and private platforms.

Caste has survived for centuries because it adapts. It changes its appearance but not its logic. The digital world is only its newest form. But people adapt too. Marginalised communities continue to resist, organise and reshape the online world, just as they have reshaped physical spaces. The task ahead is not to assume that technology will erase caste, but to build systems that recognise and challenge it.

In the end, the question is simple: will the digital future repeat the past, or can it be used to rewrite it? The answer depends on whether society chooses convenience or justice, silence or truth, efficiency or equality. The digital age presents a chance to confront centuries-old hierarchies. Whether that chance is taken remains one of the most important questions of our time.