This article first appeared in Volume 54, Issue 1 of our print edition of Index on Censorship, titled The forgotten patients: Lost voices in the global healthcare system, published on 11 April 2025. Read more about the issue here. 

When a 31-year-old trainee doctor was found raped and murdered at RG Kar Medical College in the east Indian state of Kolkata last August, outrage swept across the campus. She had fallen asleep in a seminar room after a 36-hour shift and her body was discovered the next day.

Students and other women poured into the streets in their thousands to demand justice, but their voices were quickly stifled. Police detained them, and those who spoke out found themselves under scrutiny.

The incident was not an aberration. For many in the country, this tragedy accentuated an unsettling truth: in India’s universities, victims of sexual assault – and those who support them – are often silenced.

Despite laws designed to protect women from harassment, many students and activists say the country’s universities have systemic flaws that allow sexual violence to persist.

Across India, students, activists and faculty members describe a culture where voices challenging sexual violence are suppressed to protect the institutions’ reputations.

Shabnam Hashmi, a prominent activist based in New Delhi, believes this silencing reflects India’s deep-rooted patriarchy, worsened by institutional apathy and the government’s preference for symbolic gestures over substantive change.

“Until we challenge the structures that protect perpetrators and shame victims, nothing will change,” she said. “Real change begins not only with enforcing laws but with reshaping how we view honour and accountability.”

She added that even if victims spoke out, they – not the perpetrators – were held responsible.

In Indian society, victims of sexual harassment often face intense scrutiny and blame while perpetrators are shielded by deeply entrenched patriarchal norms. Instead of holding the harasser accountable, society frequently shifts its focus to the victim, questioning her behaviour, clothing or character. Social honour is often tied to women’s bodies, leading survivors to prioritise reputation over justice and discouraging them from speaking out.

Institutional silence

Riya (not her real name), a student at a private university in Haryana, knows firsthand the consequences of speaking up. After a classmate pressured her into sharing intimate photos and then blackmailed her, she wanted to report him. But fear stopped her.

“I was scared [the authorities] would see me as the problem,” she told Index. “I didn’t think they would help me. My family would have been humiliated and people would just talk.”

Her fears had a strong basis. Even though the Prevention of Sexual Harassment of Women at Workplace (PoSH) Act mandates that all institutions should establish internal complaints committees (ICCs) to handle cases of sexual harassment, many universities either do not have these committees or fail to give them meaningful authority.

“PoSH committees usually only make recommendations,” Hashmi said. “They are expected to take action, but the administration often intervenes to protect the institution’s image.”

This leaves victims with limited avenues for recourse, and for many students the price of speaking out is simply too high.

The problem extends beyond insufficient resources and into a broader culture of institutional suppression. At Delhi University, external ICC member Vibha Chaturvedi said that many students didn’t know how to navigate the complaints process – and when they did, they were often discouraged.

“There is an incredible reluctance to go through the formal process,” she said. “Students fear retaliation, ridicule and even academic penalties if they come forward.”

Tanisha (not her real name), a student from a prestigious college in Maharashtra, recalls her ordeal with a professor who sexually harassed her.

“I was terrified to report him,” she said. “I thought no one would believe me, and the college would protect him. I was very scared. I thought they would think it was somehow my fault, because that is the usual response everywhere.”

The concern over protecting the institution’s image is so pervasive that students are often actively discouraged from making complaints in the first place.

“From students to faculty to administration, everyone indirectly suggests against raising formal complaints,” Tanisha said.

Symbolic policies

The government’s approach to women’s safety in recent years has been marked by high-profile initiatives, such as the Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao (Save the Girl Child, Educate the Girl Child) campaign, which has now been running for a decade. Its aim is to reduce gender discrimination and to educate people about gender bias. Yet critics argue that these campaigns prioritise optics over action. Nearly 80% of its funds have been spent on media campaigns, with limited impact on ground-level support for women’s safety.

“These policies are just slogans,” said Hashmi. “They are meant to make it look like something’s being done [but have no] follow-through.

“We are seeing more censorship, more silencing of dissent and an overall lack of prioritisation for women’s safety. It’s a culture of complicity, where the perpetrator is shielded and the victim is blamed.”

Hashmi believes the government’s reluctance to seriously address harassment stems from a larger resistance to challenging patriarchy.

“These are just symbolic gestures by a government that is itself intrinsically conservative and anti-women, and doesn’t believe in their freedom or freedom of expression,” she said.

India faces severe challenges in safeguarding women against sexual harassment and violence, and despite more than 30,000 cases of reported rape every year, low conviction rates hinder their safety and justice. Slow judicial processes prevent many survivors from pursuing charges, while delayed trials often result in insufficient evidence and witness withdrawal, making convictions rare.

Legislative measures such as the 2013 Criminal Law (Amendment) Act, which introduced harsher penalties for sexual violence, have not translated into consistent enforcement.

The situation has grown worse under prime minister Narendra Modi’s administration, many activists argue, as political attention on women’s safety has waned.

“We are seeing more censorship, more silencing and an overall dismissal of women’s safety as a priority,” said Hashmi. “It’s a climate of fear and complicity.”

The cost of challenging harassment can be high. For Riya, the student from Haryana, simply sharing her story with friends took courage – and she still feels haunted by the experience.

“I want to tell others to speak up, but I understand why they don’t,” she said. “It is like you are putting yourself on trial. The shame is on us, even when we are the ones hurt.”

Mary E John, co-head of the Saksham Task Force, knows all too well the delicate balance of power that exists within academic institutions. Established by the government in 2013 in response to the brutal 2012 Delhi gang rape and murder of a medical student, the task force aims to enhance safety for women on campuses and promote gender sensitivity.

She emphasised the hesitance many students felt when confronted with the daunting task of lodging complaints against their institutions.

“Students often feel they lack independence when they have to complain against the institution’s power dynamics,” she told Index. This fear of retaliation, she notes, often leads to silence.

The challenges for victims escalate when the alleged harassers hold positions of power, such as professors or administrators. Different power dynamics in academic institutions prevent student survivors from reporting harassment.

“I am terrified my grades would suffer, or people would think I am exaggerating,” Tanisha said.

As university campuses continue to grapple with the pervasive issue of sexual harassment, it is clear that a seismic shift in cultural attitudes and institutional responses is long overdue.

The increasing number of heinous cases of sexual harassment on campuses and subsequent protests may have sparked national conversations, but they have rarely translated into tangible action. The cycle only repeats itself.