In the 1990s, the Anthropological Survey of India presented a book that summarized seven years of field research on the country's most backward castes - the volume was titled "Scheduled Castes." The data was gathered into "120 typed manuscripts and 357 diskettes," wrote K.S. Singh, in the introduction. The mammoth book covered basic information, such as the social customs and economic conditions, of over 6,300 communities - based on interviews with nearly 25,000 informants. A second piece of research, of similar scale, was conducted on the backward tribes - the Scheduled Tribes.
Today, had research on such scale been conducted, instead of 357 floppy disks, we would have a presentation with streaming on YouTube, preceded by a campaign of Facebook and X posts tagged with catchy hashtag phrases. But at present, the issue of government research on castes has become politically so controversial that the current government is refusing to conduct another type of state-led field research: a caste census. The present controversy around the census may be summarized with a single question: "Are we deepening caste divisions by counting castes?"
It is a common misconception that the caste system is banned in India - formally, what is not permitted, as per the Indian Constitution, is any type of discrimination, including based on caste (as well as gender, creed, etc.). Legally, therefore, castes as communities exist but what is forbidden is any type of discrimination. The problem, however, is that discrimination was always a central element of the caste system, especially when it comes to how the lowest communities, the Dalits, were treated (and how they are still often treated). It is thus next to impossible to protect the lowest communities from discrimination without interfering in the traditional structure of the caste system. Those opposing such interference would call it social engineering, but those on favor of it would term it social justice.
For instance, traditionally Hindu temples wouldn't admit Dalits (earlier referred to as Untouchables, as they were considered impure - their name implied someone who shouldn't be touched). However, barring a citizen of a secular republic from entering a house of worship would be considered discrimination. Moreover, today many priests of Hindu temples are employed by the state - their salaries come from the government. How, in that case, could the government remain neutral toward the caste system if neutrality would have meant ignoring the orthodox rule of not allowing Dalits to enter a temple? Despite the opposition of conservatives, who argued that this was an issue of private worship, the custom was done away with in 1950s, although in fact it remains in practice in certain temples.
Thus, by attempting to uproot all discrimination in the country, consecutive Indian governments inadvertently entangled themselves in the issues of the caste system.
Similarly, during the socialist-progressive decades that followed the country's declaration of independence, the New Delhi government introduced affirmative action toward the Dalits - and toward backward tribes. Since then, those communities were entitled to special rights: for instance, certain parliamentary seats and student slots at universities were reserved for them. The whole system is called "reservation" - and again, it found both ardent supporters and outspoken critics.
Critics point out that since the Constitution of India does not permit any discrimination, reservation in fact constitutes reverse discrimination: The result is not equality, but certain communities being treated better. They also say that opportunities, such as government jobs and university slots, should be available on a competitive basis - based on merit - rather than be partially reserved based on one's origins.
Advocates for reservation reply that there had been no equality in Indian society for millennia, as a result of which the weakest sections of society now have a worse starting position in the race for careers. It is hard to imagine them competing equally for the same jobs with others, as their starting place is not equal. Higher castes often have more money and better contacts, which guarantee their children better education, and thus access to better-paid jobs. Reservation wouldn't be forever, its proponents argued, but only until chances are equalized; although the social policy remains in place now, after decades, with no end in sight. In other words, the main point in favor of reservation is that before we can have equality, we need to first achieve equal status.
The more the state attempted to correct past social wrongs, the more it engaged itself in debates on the caste system.
More than that - the state had to now research the caste system. If certain tribes and castes were entitled to reservation, it was necessary to first establish which of them were still backward. This included both anthropological research (establishing which communities were being ostracized in their local society) as well socio-economic (establishing whether such communities were still poor). Those Dalit communities formally recognized as backward by the state were now referred to as Scheduled Castes, while the tribes formally recognized as backward were termed Scheduled Tribes (as certain schedules - chapters - of the Constitution of India listed them). This was one of the reasons why the Anthropological Survey of India conducted its deep research on the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes.
Once the government began to identify communities as Scheduled Castes or Tribes, it was faced by many claims and counterclaims on whom should be included or excluded in the lists (and such battles rage to this day). But more generally, this led some critics to the conclusion that, in a way, the state had reinforced caste divisions. Because now it was the state that announced who was backward - and to receive special treatment, individuals had to identify themselves as members of such communities (at least for the purpose of certain government procedures).
The current controversy about the caste census in India is a part of the same debate. As the much-delayed census of the Indian society is finally beginning, some have called for the government to include data on castes in it.
The proponents of this argue that data on caste, paired with socio-economic indicators, would tell us which castes are doing better and which ones are not. Supporters of the census believe such data could be used for the sake of social justice. One may assume that this would then lead to new claims on who is entitled, or should no longer be entitled, to reservation. Those opposing the inclusion of castes in the census argue that this is exactly why it should be avoided. The Pandora's box of social conflicts on who is entitled to government support would be reopened once again, thereby strengthening caste divisions, instead of weakening them.
Moreover, those opposing the caste census include members of the ruling party, the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). They argue that it is their political rivals who call for the caste census to be held - as those rivals want to know how strong the castes supporting them in elections are. Knowing that certain castes have become more numerous, or less numerous, in proportion to others, would allow a given party to better build a successful combination of electorates in a given constituency. This could then lead to other, rival castes to side with the other party.
A process like this occurred, for instance, in the recent elections in the state of Haryana, where the opposition party, the Congress, is supported by the dominant caste, the Jats, while the incumbents, the BJP, have built a coalition of many less influential castes against them. In this view, knowing the numbers of caste members politicizes them and thus deepens caste divisions.
And it is certainly true that the rivals of the ruling BJP base their political strategies on a local caste calculus. But the counterpoint is that to a degree, every party in India does the same, including the BJP. In the above-given instance of Haryana, it was precisely the ruling BJP that built a coalition of castes against the Jats - and this occurred even without the state conducting a caste census.
The other truth is that the parties conduct their own research on the number of castes. Prashant Jha, a journalist researching the BJP party, once interviewed a BJP strategist in the state of Uttar Pradesh (UP), who told him this: "UP has, very broadly speaking, 20 percent general castes, 40 percent backwards, 20 percent Dalits, and 20 percent Muslims. Our politics [at first] was confined to 20 percent general castes: the Brahmans, Thakurs, Banias."
The party member then went on to explain that subsequently, the BJP achieved success by widening its engagement to 60 percent of the state population: all high castes (here called general castes), 30 percent of the backward castes, and 10 percent of Dalits. The rest wouldn't vote for it anyway, as in the BJP's calculus, they were loyal to other parties. The BJP strategist ended with: "Ideally, we would like to do politics of the 100 percent, but for now, we are focusing on 60 percent of the demographic."
Here we have a glimpse of how politics really works - and not only in India: a politician admitting that the real fight is not for all voters, but a successful combination of electorates. But, equally importantly, we see a politician being rather knowledgeable about the general distribution of castes in a state - all this without a census.
Another instance of an Indian politician saying the quiet part out loud was Mulayam Singh Yadav, the leader of SP, a regional party rival to the BJP, once explaining his party's loss in one constituency in 2017. It's a "useless constituency," he said, as out of 300,000 voters, there are only 6,000 Yadavs (Yadavs being the caste that constitutes SP's core electorate). Once again, the party leader knew this even without a caste census.
In principle, the idea of the caste census is a battlefield where two ideas clash: one is social justice, the other - for lack of a better word - political correctness. Here, the idea of social justice is raised with the assumption that if we know how numerous the castes are, and what their current economic status is, we can tweak policies accordingly. Political correctness, in turn, assumes that this will only leads to more debates and clashes, thus further strengthening tensions between castes.
But beyond these two points there is a basic truth: The leading political parties have the castes more or less mapped out anyway; it's just unpopular to admit it. Keeping this in mind, conducting a study of the caste system would not be as politically harmful as it may seen.
Source: The Diplomat
0 COMMENTS
