If India wants to be a genuine meritocracy, it must examine the institution

Long before a fairywren chick has seen daylight, it begins learning a vital skill for its survival: a distinctive password. This crucial information is communicated to the developing embryo through its mother's repeated singing during incubation. The chick absorbs a unique sound pattern and includes it in its begging calls after hatching. This system of recognition showcases the power of belonging, which humans also possess.

We tend to think that schools, universities, and workplaces evaluate individuals based on their intelligence, character, and abilities. Yet, almost every institution has an unseen code of belonging. This could be an accent, vocabulary, or speaking style. For example, two children of equal intelligence entering the same prestigious school might have different cultural backgrounds.

One child has been exposed to the institution's rules from home, while the other is the first in their family to enter such a world. The initial intelligence might be identical, but the cultural preparation differs greatly.

Those who grasp these unspoken rules navigate organizations with an ease that may seem like superior ability, while those who don't may begin to question their own worth. This situation becomes a mental health concern. We often blame the individual, but we should also examine the institution. India, in particular, should understand this well, as language, schooling, caste, class, geography, and family background can dictate the social codes a child absorbs even before talent can reveal itself.

Fluency in English, for instance, can open doors, but it may be mistakenly associated with intelligence. A genuine meritocracy demands distinguishing qualities essential to excellence from social codes that merely resemble excellence due to the familiarity of those already in power. A university should demand intellectual rigor, while a workplace should seek competence. It's not necessary for intelligence to always be expressed in the same accent or manner.

Diversity cannot simply be measured by counting the different kinds of people present in a room. The more pressing question is what happens after they arrive. Can they speak without adapting to someone else's idea of acceptability? Can they question established assumptions without being viewed as troublesome? Although we are different from the fairywren, the bird's ability to recognize the wrong call as a matter of survival highlights an essential moral question.

Do we immediately perceive the unfamiliar note as evidence that the person does not belong, or can we understand that talent, intelligence, and human potential sometimes arrive in voices we have not yet learned to hear? Just as the fairywren survives by listening for the familiar song, a humane society must learn how to listen beyond those codes of belonging.