Caste has been a defining feature of Indian society for millennia. Understanding it does not require delving into speculative debates about its origins, as caste has continually evolved. What castes are today is not what they were at their inception, or even during the transformative periods of Jotiba Phule and Babasaheb Ambedkar’s movements. Recognizing this evolution is crucial, as caste has undergone profound changes under the impact of political and economic shifts before and during colonial times and the early post-colonial decades. These changes, however, are often overlooked in contemporary sociological and political discourse.
While classical caste was rigid, religiously sanctioned, and occupationally defined, the contemporary form operates as a socio-political and economic category with more fluid boundaries. Yet, the persistence of caste discrimination, endogamy, caste-based violence and its pivotal place in politics demonstrates its enduring power in Indian society.
To understand caste’s constitutional and structural development, the perspective provided in Marc Galanter’s seminal book “Competing Equalities: Law and the Backward Classes in India” (1984) may be useful. It describes three modes of manifestation of caste:
Sacral Mode: Refers to the traditional, ritualistic, and hierarchical understanding of caste, rooted in religious and cultural norms. Castes are viewed as part of a unified Hindu religious order, hierarchically organized according to varnas (Brahmin, Kshatriya, Vaishya, and Shudra). This mode, often invoked by courts and colonial authorities, relied on scriptural doctrines and notions of purity and pollution to classify castes, with personal laws applied differently to “twice-born” (Dvija) castes and Shudras.
Sectarian Mode: Represents caste as a community-based identity, often aligned with shared social practices, kinship, and endogamy. Castes function as independent religious communities with distinct doctrines and practices. These self-contained units operated autonomously, independent of broader Hindu religious principles.
Associational Mode: Highlights the evolution of caste as a political or organizational identity, where caste groups mobilize for economic, political, or social advantages. Castes act as self-governing social units, not necessarily tied to religion but organized around shared cultural and social functions. This mode extends beyond Hinduism to include caste-like structures among other religious communities, such as Muslims, Christians, and Parsis.
The colonial state applied these modes variably to suit its purposes. While it recognized caste’s role in local governance through sectarian and associational frameworks, it relied heavily on the sacral mode for personal law governance. This sacral framework reinforced a colonial schema that conceptualized India as a land of religious communities, influencing social and political discourses, including the anti-caste movements.
Ambedkar, for instance, heavily critiqued Hindu scriptures (Dharmashastras) in his efforts to annihilate caste, reflecting the dominance of sacral conception of castes in his thought process. His ultimate act of conversion to Buddhism also underscores sacral conception of caste.
However, in reality, castes conformed more to the sectarian and associational modes. They operated as autonomous quasi-religious communities with distinct practices and cultural systems, often independent of scriptural mandates. This cultural embeddedness made caste a deeply internalized part of Indian society. Associational characteristics, such as self-governance, were also evident, particularly in pluralistic settings where diverse communities coexisted harmoniously. One may identify these three modes being associated with the varna hierarchy from the Brahmin downwards. While Brahminic castes followed the sacral mode in ordering their hierarchy as per the religious scriptures in a diminishing manner, the Shudras and A-varnas reflected sectarian and associational modes. This corresponds to the empirical reality that in the rural areas the practitioners of caste, viz. Shudras and a-varnas do not have an iota of scriptural sense behind their conduct but the caste contradiction between them unfolds in the most pronounced manner, often taking violent forms.
Caste among the upper varnas was ritually ordained. However, as their urban dwelling strata entered capitalist networks during colonial times, the ritualistic rigidities loosened within it, influenced by the logic of minimizing transaction costs. The spread of capitalist modernity among its western educated segment also had a significant share in loosening the ritualistic relations. The castes within these varnas for all practical purposes show up as a single cluster; their manifestation scarcely noticed as the innocuous cultural practice. They influenced de-ritualization across their castes.
Post-independence, the sacral framework faced some challenges, notably through the passage of the Hindu Code Bill and the constitutional abolition of untouchability (Article 17). Yet, the broader constitutional framework retained sacral elements, such as in Article 341, which defined Scheduled Castes (SCs) within a Hindu framework (later extended to Sikhs and Buddhists, assumed to be sects of Hinduism). This approach perpetuated caste and communal identities, facilitating their continued exploitation by political forces.
The Constitution’s sacral underpinnings, coupled with the ruling classes’ manipulations, ensured the preservation of caste structures under the guise of social justice. This became evident in the abolition of untouchability and the subsequent extension of reservations beyond the Scheduled Castes, a category specifically created to implement reservations as per the last colonial constitution vide the Government of India Act, 1935.
If reservations—understood as an extraordinary measure for an extraordinary issue— had been restricted to this exceptional category, caste itself could be abolished. By creating the closed ‘Schedule’ as a quasi-class for the erstwhile untouchable castes, the connection of the entire untouchable caste cluster representing the worst manifestation of caste discrimination with the Hindu caste system was technically severed. This could have allowed the caste structure at large to be abolished without affecting reservations for this specific group.
However, the ruling classes, unwilling to relinquish caste—their providential weapon for dividing people—chose a different course. To reinforce their logic and maintain the caste structure, reservations were extended to the Scheduled Tribes and the Backward Castes, an amorphous category potentially encompassing all in the backward country as India.
While it may be acknowledged that the Scheduled Tribes faced both social stigma and physical exclusion similar to the Scheduled Castes, this issue could have been addressed by merging them with the Scheduled Castes for reservation purposes. A mechanism could have been easily devised to ensure their proportional share within the quota system.
The remaining groups, however, did not suffer social stigma or exclusion based on caste identity. The extension of reservations to these groups fortified the caste system rather than dismantling it, serving the interests of the ruling classes under the pretext of promoting social justice.
The abolition of untouchability without the abolition of caste was both theoretically and empirically meaningless. Dr. Ambedkar himself understood this, yet found himself unable to address it in the constituent assembly. Reservations, while a measure to redress historical injustices, were not a panacea for the entrenched caste hierarchy. However, they were projected as such, potentially casteizing society, fragmenting solidarity, and fostering divisive politics.
Reservations, moreover, allowed the ruling classes to evade the responsibility of implementing universal measures such as free education, healthcare, and livelihood security—fundamental inputs required for the minimal empowerment of all people. Without these universal provisions, it may be argued, even the reservation system could not achieve its intended efficacy.
Since reservations have become a significant prop for caste identities and electoral politics, their primary beneficiary, castes today may be seen as “constitutional castes.” The classical caste system, left to contend with the forces of capitalism, might have gradually withered away. Instead, it was transplanted into the modernist framework of the Constitution, rendering it nearly indestructible. Since the Constitution has privileged the sacral mode, restricting the Scheduled Castes to Hindus, the associated notion of hierarchy also is inherited by the contemporary castes.
Castes do remain a deeply hierarchical system, with the varnas forming a notional meta-structure and sub-castes and sub-sub-castes creating intricate nested hierarchies. Colonial attempts to codify castes through census exercises failed to capture their fluid and evolving nature. New castes have emerged, while others have dissolved over time, illustrating the dynamic adaptability of caste. This ever-changing structure continues to reinforce caste as a pervasive ideology of superiority and inferiority, internalized by individuals at subconscious levels.
The caste dynamics was significantly boosted by the political-economic policies of the government during the 1950s and 1960s. The Congress Party government was obligated to fulfil promises made during the freedom struggle. Foremost among these was land reform. Accordingly, land reforms were implemented through various land-ceiling legislations of the states. While these reforms sounded good on paper, they embedded a political objective of the Congress—to create a class from among the most populous Shudra caste band that would serve as its agent in rural areas, where it lacked organization. Excess land was distributed to Shudra caste tenants, whose names appeared in land records. However, many Dalits and Adivasis, who might have been actual tillers of land as sub-tenants of these Shudra caste tenants, were excluded on the plea that their names did not figure in land records. This created a land-owning class of Shudra farmers in rural areas.
When the Green Revolution was implemented soon thereafter, huge productivity gains accrued to these land-owning farmers, enriching them significantly. The Green Revolution, a capitalist strategy to boost agricultural productivity, created many markets—markets for input, output, credit, money, implements, services, etc.—which provided business opportunities to a section of these farmers who amassed considerable surplus from untaxed agricultural income. They even expanded beyond village boundaries as petty businessmen (transporters, food processors, contractors, etc.), interfacing with political power structures and germinating political aspirations. While they initially served as Congress agents in rural areas as planned, their increasing demands could not be accommodated by the Congress, leading to the rise of regional parties. It made electoral politics increasingly competitive.
As the Congress’s aura of the freedom struggle faded, accentuated by debacles like the Chinese war and Nehru’s demise, political parties sought to woo caste and religious communities, inaugurating vote-bank politics. Dalits, organized under the Ambedkarite movement, emerged as an important vote bank with Ambedkar as their icon to mobilize them.
While this process strengthened the Shudra castes through their ties to the class of rich farmers metamorphosed into political leaders, it made Dalits correspondingly vulnerable in rural settings. The spread of capitalist relations in rural areas destroyed traditional interdependence in villages, reducing Dalits to rural proletariat, utterly dependent on the rich farmers for farm wages. While the agrarian economy turned capitalist, old feudal relations came handy in suppressing wages. The resulting contradictions between Shudra capitalist farmers and Dalit farm labourers manifested through caste faultlines, leading to a new genre of atrocities first seen in Kilvenmani in Tamil Nadu in 1968.
It is vital to understand that these changes in the caste complexion of society were primarily caused by political-economic transformations, not cultural or psychological processes.
Politics based on caste identity, particularly for the emancipation of lower castes like Dalits, needs careful strategic consideration. On one hand, it provides a platform for the historically oppressed to assert their rights and challenge entrenched hierarchies; on the other, it risks perpetuating caste as a defining social and political factor rather than dismantling it.
Caste-based politics often fragments marginalized groups, as seen in the Dalit movement. It addresses symptoms like representation and policy measures rather than structural causes such as economic inequities and land ownership patterns. Political parties claiming to represent Dalits or lower castes are sometimes co-opted by dominant caste or class interests, diluting their emancipatory agenda. For instance, Dalit leaders in mainstream parties may prioritize party loyalty over community interests.
The essence of caste itself—hierarchy-seeking, divisive, and prone to splintering—makes it incompatible with building radical emancipatory movements. This simple understanding is often overwhelmed by the upsurge of caste identities.
What then are the alternatives? The obvious answer lies in class-based coalitions. Since caste oppression intersects with economic exploitation, addressing broader socio-economic inequalities can strengthen Dalit emancipation. Movements with emphasis on land reforms and workers’ rights have sometimes complemented caste-based struggles.
While representation is vital, dismantling the material basis of caste—unequal land distribution, limited access to education and healthcare—is essential for true emancipation. The failure of customary politics of representation should make us realize that true representation necessitates universal empowerment. Babasaheb Ambedkar’s vision, wherein educated Dalits would act as a protective umbrella for the Dalit masses, has unfortunately not materialized.
Towards the end of his life, Ambedkar lamented that educated Dalits had betrayed his expectations. His disillusionment extended to the political representation he fought so hard to secure through reservations; he later demanded their annulment out of frustration.
These experiences teach us a vital lesson: unless the entire population is empowered with fundamental provisions such as free healthcare, universal quality education through a common school system, and basic livelihood security via land or jobs, the concept of representation will remain hollow and often counterproductive. Over the last seven decades, we have seen so-called representatives of the people evolve into some of the worst oppressors.
Radical politics requires a broader force, one that cannot emerge from fragmented caste identities. The clichéd idea of Bahujan, conceived as a coalition of all oppressed castes and even religious minorities, may occasionally secure electoral victories under the First-Past-the-Post (FPTP) system. However, it cannot advance any radical or emancipatory project. The electoral success of the Kanshiram-Mayawati duo and similar attempts at showcasing the unity of the oppressed castes might yield momentary gains, but it falls short of achieving lasting transformative change. Only the broad class unity of people sans caste can achieve annihilation of caste. As I have been always saying, the task is entwined with the revolution in the country: Annihilation of caste is not possible without a revolution, and the revolution also is not possible without annihilation of caste. I use revolution with a line concept; a process of leading to structural overhaul of the production relations in society, and not the culmination of it.
The challenges lie in how to bring this about against the onslaughts of the revivalist right wing forces in recent times in the post-neoliberal era marked by multi-dimensional crises of liberal democracy and consequent spread of fascist tendencies in all spheres. It has left few degrees of freedom for the coming generation to think of such issues. Young people who were expected to shoulder this challenge are turning individualistic and apathetic to any collective issue. The hope is small groups of youth like you. They exist across the country, possibly without communication and coordination with each other. You may have to think creatively to devise a viable solution and then scale it up to the level of the country. I do hope it is doable.
(Follow us on YouTube @SPARK_MAGAZINE. Find this lecture and the Q&A session at https://youtu.be/Rrotx-Rg7Hw?si=extLV2-ktNb56Xte )
