A Constitutional and Gendered Critique of India’s Emerging Uniform Civil Code Framework
The implementation of a Uniform Civil Code in India remains one of the most enduringly polarising legal debates. Enshrined in Article 44 of the Indian Constitution, the UCC reflects a Directive Principle of State Policy, instructing the state to strive for a common set of civil laws governing marriage, divorce, inheritance, adoption, and guardianship across all communities. This idea behind framing a uniform code came through the state’s desire to integrate the country at the national level and also ensure that individual rights are derived from a framework which is secular and emphasises equality. Despite the constitutional importance that a UCC holds, such a uniform code is yet to be implemented in the country purely because India is made up of a complex interplay of social stratification, religious pluralism as well as identity politics. With different religious communities having different personal laws which govern them when it comes to matters concerning marriage, divorce, inheritance and guardianship, if a single secular framework is to be implemented in the country, the threat to religious autonomy that comes associated with such an implementation needs to be minimised. However, proponents of the UCC continue to assert that it is a necessary step toward establishing gender justice and legal uniformity.
India’s legal plurality is a recognition of the various religious and cultural customs that influence persons’ private lives, not just a historical coincidence. Marriage customs, divorce rights, custody, succession, and adoption are all governed by personal laws. Over time, these laws’ cohabitation has led to constitutional difficulties, especially between Article 25’s protection of religious freedom and Article 14’s pledge of equality before the law. The concept of a UCC has gained popularity in recent years within this hotly debated area. However, the fundamental question still stands as to whether the UCC, as it is, actually advances gender equality or if it only uses selected reforms to maintain formal conformity. This dilemma becomes particularly evident when we examine the divergent experiences of Goa and Uttarakhand, the two states which often tend to be cited as UCC success stories, but whose legal codes reveal significant gaps when analysed through the lens of constitutional morality and gender justice.
Goa is often portrayed as India’s de facto model when it comes to the existence of a functioning UCC. The family law system in Goa, that is derived from the Portuguese Civil Code of 1867, has remained in force even after the state’s integration with the Indian state, ensuring the existence of such a code which is uniform for the state’s inhabitants regardless of their religion or culture.[1] This code is distinctive because it chooses to treat the female & male heirs in the same manner when it comes to matters of inheritance or succession, in contrast to the other personal laws where the scheme of succession for the men and women differ with an anomaly existing for the women if she were to die without children as depicted by S.15 of the Hindu Succession Act.[2] Furthermore, the code does also make use of gender-neutral terms such as “ascendants”, “descendants”, and “surviving spouse”[3] as opposed to gender centric terms existing in the other personal laws prevalent in the country. Even the provisions for the devolution of assets or property of an individual is the same, implying that no difference exists between a male or female when it comes to property devolution. But it’s not necessary that uniformity is to be always equated to every individual being entitled to the same rights, it might just also mean to be equality when it comes to discrimination.[4] While various provisions of the Goan uniform code such as the communion of assets between the husband and wife once they are married, the compulsory civil registration of marriages for all Goan residents or even the concept of matrimonial rights to property which is unique to Goa, these provisions do pan out differently for different communities across the state, and gendered loopholes in the code are not hard to find. For instance, while the concept of community property implies equal rights over marital assets, in practice, the husband is granted administrative authority over this property. This dynamic often sidelines the woman’s role decision-making of the property due the husband “managing” the property, thereby reinforcing the traditional power hierarchy within the household. Moreover, exceptions exist within the code that allow Hindu men to take a second wife under specific conditions, such as the absence of a male heir—thereby undermining the very principle of uniformity that the law is meant to uphold. The code also lacks adequate protections for women in cases of marital breakdown, including provisions for maintenance, domestic violence, or the equitable division of property upon divorce. These gaps have real, adverse consequences for women, particularly homemakers and those from economically disadvantaged backgrounds, who are rendered vulnerable in the absence of social and financial support.
One other major concern of the Goan code is its colonial origin and its subsequent retention despite the state’s integration with independent India, causing the law to never be a subject of public debate or reform. The continued application of such a code does raise questions about its contemporary relevance as well as legitimacy in order to be used as a model for the rest of the country. Its also been pointed out that the Goan model claims to be secular does tend to reflect upper-caste hindu norms and values, resulting in the marginalisation of other communities and cultures. Women’s organisations in Goa have consistently demanded revisions to the law that would make it more gender-sensitive and reflective of the lived realities of Goan women, but such reforms have been slow and limited. Thus, despite its symbolic importance, the Goan Civil Code illustrates the limitations of legal uniformity when it fails to be substantively equitable.
On the other hand, Uttarakhand’s Uniform Civil Code Act of 2024 marked the first major step by a state in post-independence India to implement what Article 44 envisions. The law standardizes the age of marriage across communities. It requires for the compulsory registration of marriages much like the Goan code as well as for live-in relationships pointing towards certain inclusivity and tolerance. The act also aims at prohibiting practices such as polygamy and nikah halala which often times places the women on the discriminatory side of the law, interfering with her rights. Further, certain provisions of the act also aim to provide equal inheritance rights to sons and daughters. Though the law presents itself as a secular and gender-just framework there are also shortcoming attached to this proposed framework. Firstly, the law chooses to exempt Scheduled Tribes, who make up a large part of the state’s population, undermining the claim of universal applicability. It also reflects Hindu succession rules, particularly by allowing complete testamentary freedom, which can be exploited to disinherit women, disregarding the intended protection of the provision of equal inheritance. Additionally, the provisions concerning live-in relationships which requires couples to report their union within 30 days, directly leads to state surveillance and interference into their personal lives, which once again disproportionately women, with them facing a greater harm by being subjected to societal outbursts and criticism. Several scholars as well as critics have pointed out that the law selectively chooses to focus on Muslim practices like nikah halala and polygamy, while ignoring discriminatory customs in other communities, which inherently chooses to lay down different conditions for women & men when it comes to succession along with the patriarchal Hindu guardianship laws. What this does is highlight a majoritarian approach rather than an egalitarian society with its root at equality. [5]
Many feminist scholars and civil society commentators have strongly challenged the Uttarakhand Uniform Civil Code’s actual commitment to gender justice, arguing that its progressive veneer often masks patriarchal continuities and intrusive state control much like the Goan code. Flavia Agnes, a prominent feminist legal scholar contends that the provision pertaining to the disclosure of live-in relationships by individuals, not only criminalizes non-conforming relationships but also subjects the private and consensual choices of adults to state surveillance and bureaucratic scrutiny as stated. This move, she argues, runs contrary to the constitutional right to privacy as upheld in the case of Justice K.S. Puttaswamy v. Union of India and opens the door to moral policing, particularly targeting interfaith couples, Dalit women, and those from socially vulnerable backgrounds who may already face coercion or stigma in familial settings.[6] In consideration of this, if one were to selectively target a particular sect or groups it would imply the existence of a majoritarian undertone which would inevitably ruin the UCC discourse due to the idea of uniformity being used as a veil to hide and eventually impose the values of the dominant culture under the pretext of integration. Such a code thus, ends up becoming not a driver of gender justice but rather something of a weapon of cultural assimilation.
This can very significantly be highlighted by means of the tendency of the partial or complete ignorance of tribal communities while framing the code for Uttarakhand, even though these communities form a huge part of the state’s population. As highlighted in Saumya Uma’s essay titled “Between the Devil and the Deep Sea: Tribal Women’s Inheritance Rights in India ”, tribal communities are often caught between the homogenising force of a state-imposed civil code and the patriarchal elements within their own customary systems, leaving them with no meaningful choice.[7] In Uttarakhand, no exemptions or accommodations were made for the Scheduled Tribes, despite their distinct familial, inheritance, and marriage customs, and despite constitutional protections under the Fifth and Sixth Schedules meant to preserve such autonomy. By enforcing a blanket application of the UCC, the law not only overrides tribal self-governance but risks criminalising their long-standing normative practices. Uma argues that such an imposition amounts to a form of cultural erasure, where the state’s notion of “modernity” and “progress” is constructed through the lens of dominant caste-Hindu norms. The reform thus operates not through participatory engagement but by subordinating alternative legal imaginations to a singular, centralised vision. In the process, the UCC’s promise of justice becomes deeply exclusionary—alienating precisely those groups that constitutional pluralism was meant to protect. If the aim is genuine gender justice, then the path forward must reckon not just with religious patriarchy but also with the power dynamics of caste, indigeneity, and democratic consent.
Moreover, the top-down approach adopted in drafting and enacting the Uttarakhand UCC has attracted widespread criticism. The legislative process lacked meaningful consultation with key stakeholders, including religious minorities, tribal communities, women’s rights organisations, and marginalised caste groups. This exclusionary process undermines the democratic legitimacy of the law and raises serious concerns about the representativeness of its content.
Many scholars, particularly those of feminist interest have pointed out the simple fact towards the creation and implementation of such a code; if one is to frame a nation centric law or code aimed towards national integration then adequate consideration is to be given to the living realities of those groups or individuals who are to seemingly benefit from such a code. Its to be understood that when it comes to women, their struggle of inequality is not restricted to a particular factor but rather it lies at the intersection of class, religion, caste and sometime even the place they come from. If an individual is excluded and a bottom-up approach to participation is disregarded the idea of achieving uniformity and national integration are left to be a hollow reform in procedure, remaining aloof from the realities which actually exist. Such a code which is to be uniform can only come about from inclusivity and interaction between the communities & not a simple disregard from those cultural practices which seem to be harsh or unjust.
In truth, when considering both the Goan code from colonial times & the UCC of Uttarakhand it can be clearly seen that the mere existence of a secular code cannot be automatically equated to gender justice in any form. If one were to simply frame the code without taking into consideration the already existing social hierarchy and power structures it would just mean that the code even if its enacted is just preserving these further into the future. What a transformative UCC is to do is dismantle social hierarchies to bring every individual at the same footing and then restructure laws in such a way so as to be free of structural injustices.
This calls for a fundamental shift from a model of formal equality—where identical treatment is presumed to be fair—to one of substantive equality, where the law is crafted and applied in a way that accounts for people’s differential positions in society, and ensures that justice is meaningful and accessible in practice, not just in principle.
In conclusion if India is to truly frame and implement a unform code at the national level which ensures equality and gender justice, then any attempt made towards its framing must be focused on inclusivity and sensitivity to the different cultures that exist. What it requires is the inputs from all those who have been historically on the sidelines as well as for the reforms to be transparent, backed by evidence and participatory. One cannot use the one-size fits all approach when it comes to implementing a uniform code in a country like India.
[1] Ayush Kumar, Constitutional Aspects Revolving Around Uniform Civil Code: A Critical Analysis, TSCLD (Mar. 11 , 2024), https://www.tscld.com/uniform-civil-code-a-critical-analysis
[2] Hindu Succession Act, No. 30 of 1956, Section 15, India Code
[3] Kratee Aggarwal & Sunidhi Agrahari, The Goan Civil Code: A Great Success or A Steep Failure?, Vol. 2, Issue 3 IJALR, (2021)
[4] Alberta Almeida, Goa’s Civil Code Shows That Uniformity Does not Always Mean Equality, THE WIRE, (Aug. 8 , 2016), https://thewire.in/law/goas-uniform-civil-code-is-not-the-greatest-model-to-follow
[5] Flavia Agnes, How gender-just is the Uttarakhand Uniform Civil Code?, THE LEAFLET, (Feb.19 , 2024 , 2:16 pm) , https://theleaflet.in/equality/how-gender-just-is-the-uttarakhand-uniform-civil-code
[6] Namrata Mukherjee & Rakshita Goyal, Uttarakhand UCC delivers status quo for wives & mothers, while promising ‘gender justice’, THE PRINT, (Mar. 1 , 2024 , 10:01 am ), https://theprint.in/opinion/uttarakhand-ucc-delivers-status-quo-for-wives-mothers-while-promising-gender-justice/1984283/
[7] Saumya Uma, Between the Devil and the Deep Sea: Tribal Women’s Inheritance Rights in India, Vol. 30, Issue 3, Indian Journal of Gender Studies, (2023), https://doi.org/10.1177/09715215231183623
Author: Dishita Mittal
Juris Centre 