Beyond Merit: The Human Cost of Excellence

India's IITs have mastered the art of finding exceptional talent. Every year, millions of young people compete for a few thousand seats in institutions that represent aspiration, opportunity and academic excellence. But behind the celebrations of rankings, placements and technological achievements lies a troubling question: what happens when an institution becomes exceptionally good at selecting talent but insufficiently prepared to protect it?

The reported deaths by suicide of 45 IIT students between 2020-21 and 2024-25 force India to confront an uncomfortable reality. These are not merely statistics of individual tragedies or a narrow mental health crisis. They represent a deeper institutional challenge about how India's most prestigious universities define merit, measure success and support the young people entrusted to them.

Among the 45 students, 28 belonged to Scheduled Castes, Scheduled Tribes and Other Backward Classes, accounting for more than 62 per cent of the reported suicides. These numbers must be interpreted carefully. Suicide is a complex phenomenon shaped by multiple personal, psychological and social factors, and no data can establish a single cause. Yet patterns cannot be ignored. When certain communities appear disproportionately vulnerable, institutions must examine whether social exclusion, unequal access to resources, discrimination or gaps in support systems are contributing to distress.

The larger issue is that admission to an IIT is often treated as the final proof of merit. In reality, it is only the beginning of a different struggle. Students enter these institutions carrying unequal social, economic and cultural resources. Sociologist Pierre Bourdieu's concept of cultural capital helps explain this reality: educational systems do not reward ability alone; they also reward familiarity with institutional language, confidence, networks and social expectations.

A student from an urban, privileged background and a first-generation learner may sit in the same classroom, but they may not experience the same campus. One may already understand the unwritten rules of elite academic environments, while the other is learning both the subject and the system simultaneously. When institutions assume that admission has erased these differences, inequality can continue inside the walls of supposedly equal spaces.

This raises a fundamental question about merit itself. What exactly does merit measure? Intelligence and hard work, certainly. But does it also reflect years of coaching access, financial stability, English proficiency, family guidance and emotional support? If institutions evaluate students only by outcomes while ignoring unequal starting points, equality in assessment can coexist with inequality in experience.

The psychological burden of elite education further complicates this picture. Many IIT students arrive after years of being among the best performers in their schools. On entering a highly competitive environment, some experience failure and comparison for the first time. Academic setbacks that should be temporary challenges can become personal crises when identity becomes tied entirely to achievement.

Perfectionism, fear of failure, imposter syndrome and constant social comparison can create an environment where students feel that their worth depends on grades, internships or placements. For those already dealing with loneliness, financial pressure or social isolation, the pressure can become overwhelming. The problem is not competition itself. Competition becomes harmful when institutions fail to provide the support systems needed to navigate it.

The findings of the Supreme Court-appointed National Task Force highlight this institutional gap. The task force identified academic pressure, social exclusion, caste-related concerns, financial stress and inadequate support mechanisms as important areas requiring attention. Its survey found that 34 per cent of participating students felt like outsiders, while many reported severe distress and suicidal thoughts.

The institutional response remains far from adequate. More than 70 per cent of responding higher educational institutions lacked a full-time mental health professional, fewer than 4 per cent had suicide-risk protocols, and many had not conducted faculty sensitisation programmes. These gaps reveal a larger problem: India's universities are often designed to measure performance but not to identify distress.

The solution cannot be limited to adding more counsellors after a crisis occurs. IITs and other premier institutions need a cultural transformation. Faculty members must be trained to recognise warning signs. Peer-support networks should become part of campus life. First-generation students need stronger mentorship. Grievance systems must be trusted and accessible. Academic flexibility during periods of crisis should be viewed not as a compromise on standards but as an investment in student success.

India should continue to celebrate IITs as symbols of excellence. But a world-class institution is not defined only by research papers, patents, salaries or global rankings. It is defined by whether every student who enters its gates feels valued, supported and capable of belonging.

Merit is essential. Excellence is worth pursuing. But when achievement is separated from empathy, institutions risk confusing endurance with greatness. The true measure of a university is not only how many brilliant minds it produces, but how responsibly it nurtures them. No ranking can capture that achievement, and no ranking can compensate for the lives lost along the way.