India’s new economy is supposed to be a break from the old one. The companies are global, the work is networked, the credentials are technical, and the wealth is being made by people who, the story goes, would have had no place in the world their grandparents inherited. Look closely at who is founding the companies, deciding where the venture capital goes, and running the senior engineering teams, and a familiar pattern recurs: Brahmin and other dominant-caste names, in numbers far beyond their share of the population, in the same seats their grandparents’ generation held in the civil service and the professions. Sociologist S. Shakthi’s 2023 study of Chennai’s IT sector, published in South Asia: Journal of South Asian Studies, names this directly as “corporate Brahminism” — a structure in which upper-caste dominance of high-paying technical work is not a residue of the past but an actively maintained, structurally denied present-day arrangement.
The system is not failing here. It is working, with new instruments.
To call this a “new caste economy” is, in one sense, misleading. The economy is new; the mechanism is old. Caste has never been only about ritual or village endogamy. It is, and has always been, a system of graded social closure — an arrangement by which birth is converted into station, and station into the right to pass advantage on to one’s own. Markets and credentials are not solvents of that arrangement. They are the instruments through which it now operates.
The clearest analysis of how the mechanism works was written almost a century ago. In Castes in India (1916), Ambedkar identified endogamy — the closed reproductive circle — as the sole essence of caste. Hierarchy, occupation, and ritual followed from it; they were not its core. Twenty years later, in Annihilation of Caste, he extended the analysis: caste is a graded ranking that distributes social and economic rights unevenly, so that each caste defends the rank it holds above the one below. The arrangement is extraordinarily durable, he warned, because it is engineered to absorb new social forms while preserving the old distribution of opportunity.
That is the structure at work in the contemporary economy. Capital, credentials, and professional networks concentrate where they have always concentrated: among those who inherit the right schools, the right surnames, the right English-language fluencies, the right introductions. The premier engineering colleges feed the premier firms; the firms feed the venture pools; the venture pools fund founders who share their classrooms and their tongues. Each step, viewed individually, looks like merit. The pattern reveals what is being selected for.
The instrument that does the most work is the credential. A degree from a few institutions, a fluency built over twelve years of English-medium schooling, a comfort with the cultural codes of investor meetings and product reviews — these are not signals of innate capability. They are evidence of a long, expensive, kin-dependent preparation. An IIT or IIM degree, in particular, functions as a closed loop: venture capital firms whose own senior partners are disproportionately IIT and IIM alumni fund founders who share that credential before those founders have a product or a track record to show for it, reproducing the same institutional pipeline one generation down. Treat the credential as a proxy for merit and the system rewards the preparation as if it were the talent. Treat it as a precondition for participation and the system narrows the field at the door. Either way, the credential converts inherited access into earned-looking position: caste’s closure mechanism, wearing a modern wrapper.
A common objection is that this is class, not caste — and that any liberalising economy generates such concentrations, which growth will eventually diffuse. The objection misses what is distinctive about Indian capitalism. Class formation happens through schools, marriages, neighbourhoods, and inheritance arrangements — every one of which was already caste-structured before any new market arrived. To call the resulting concentration “class” without naming the structure that shapes it is to describe a pattern without its cause.
None of this means the new economy has worsened caste, or that it can solve it. The point is narrower and harder. The language of newness is hiding what is being reproduced. When opportunity is distributed by birth and the distribution is dressed in credentials and equity grants, the system does not need to call itself caste in order to function as caste. Ambedkar’s warning, written before anyone imagined a tech economy, applies with full force: the durability of the system lies in its ability to change its appearance while preserving its inner arrangement. Naming what is being preserved is the first step in disarming it.
