Image showing a crowd of people in India. For representational purposes.
Credit: PTI File Photo
India is going to be enumerated on caste lines along with the decennial census operation after almost a century. If the political movements that took birth after the British-era caste census are an indication, the outcome of the upcoming exercise is likely to cause political and policy upheavals.
The most significant caste census in the history of Indian ethnography was not that of 1931, which is often referred to as the prime census on caste. It was the 1911 census that catapulted the non-descript, oppressed and dehumanised community of 'untouchables' into national politics. The data of this census, a path breaking exercise which enumerated the 'untouchables' for the first time, laid down the foundation for the demand of Dr B R Ambedkar for political representation of oppressed communities. The task of identifying them was not easy and the ethnographers had gone to the field with a ten-tests identification method prepared by the census Commissioner.
In 1919, Ambedkar used the 1911 data to demand political representation on the basis of population percentage. Eventually, in 1937, the first elected legislative members from among the 'untouchables' emerged through a system of reserved seats. For the 100 years between 1911 and 2011, the 'untouchables' (now Scheduled Castes) were enumerated in the census as a separate category, and the data led to several demands and concessions for the Scheduled Castes, as remedies against discrimination.
In 1919, was Ambedkar playing politics or seeking a policy intervention on the census data? The question is relevant in the backdrop of the debates over the caste surveys conducted by some state governments. While certain sections call this survey a “progressive” move, others call them “unscientific” and “divisive politics”. A peek into the past may give some hints.
Even before Ambedkar launched his campaign for 'untouchables', when the 1911 census pegged the population of Brahmin caste at 3 per cent, a group of backward castes met in Madras in 1916 and issued a ‘Non-Brahmin Manifesto’. The manifesto laid bare the monopoly of a single caste, Brahmins, in government jobs. It mentioned that in the Mysore State, Brahmins occupied 85 per cent of civil services; in the Madras Presidency, out of the 140 Deputy Collectors, 77 were Brahmins and 30 non-Brahmin Hindus.
The manifesto pointed out that among the 128 permanent District Munsiffs, 93 were Brahmins and only 25 were non-Brahmin Hindus. On political representation, the manifesto mentioned that out of the 15 people elected from Madras to the All India Congress Committee, 14 were Brahmins. The manifesto eventually led to the formation of Dravidian movement and Dravidian politics as we see today.
The demand for political representation of backward castes was met in 1919 and 28 out of 98 seats were reserved for backwards (non-Brahmins) in the legislative council elections in the Madras Presidency, which were held in 1920. The Justice Party which spear-headed the non-brahmin, backward-class movement won the election and issued a series of instructions called ‘Communal GO’, which called for restricted representation of the Brahmin caste in government jobs and admissions in educational institutions.
In 1927, the GO revised the proportion of appointments in public service and admissions to institutions to provide equal opportunities for all. The GO ensured that “out of 14 seats, 6 are allotted to non-Brahmin Hindus; 2 to backward Hindu communities; 2 to Brahmins, 2 to Harijans, 1 to Anglo-Indians and Indian Christians and 1 to Muslims”. This GO was annulled by the Supreme Court in 1950, which led to the first amendment to the Constitution, enabling reservations for backward castes, but not in the reverse discrimination model against the Brahmin caste as done in the 1927 GO.
In the formative days of India, the caste census data triggered demands based on three principles. Firstly, constitution of reserved seats in legislative bodies as per population percentage led by Ambedkar. Secondly, the non-brahmin movement sought to block the monopoly of any community beyond their enumerated population share. Thirdly, it was the principle of apportionment on the basis of population percentage of an individual community. For example, reserved seats for Scheduled Castes in legislative assemblies of states are based on varying percentages of population such as 15 per cent in Andhra Pradesh, 20 per cent in Haryana or 25 per cent in Punjab.
Almost 70 years after the first Constitutional amendment, a few castes besides the Brahmin caste continue to hold sway on open category admissions and jobs. For example, the Kayastha caste constituting 0.6 per cent of Bihar’s population holds onto 6.68 per cent of government jobs. Juxtapose this with the Bihar caste census of 2023. It revealed that general castes (non-reserved) comprised only 15.52 per cent of the population. On the other hand, the backward castes were 63.14 per cent; Scheduled Castes 19.65 per cent and Scheduled Tribes 1.68 per cent, fixing the population of the marginalised communities at 84.47 per cent.
It is in this context that the apportionment of reservations which are restricted to 50 per cent by courts is being questioned.
Even though the apex court upheld the 10 per cent reservation for Economically Weaker Sections (EWS) in the general category introduced by the Union government in 2019, which was opposed by backward castes, it is unlikely to allow breaching of the 50 per cent cut-off rule.
The Bihar caste census, conducted by the state government, didn’t create any upheaval in the state. The outcome of caste surveys in Telangana, Karnataka or even Andhra Pradesh, which would precede the caste enumeration in the upcoming census, is also unlikely to create a second Dravidian movement.
This is because unlike the caste enumeration in the census operations a hundred years ago, the caste surveys done by states merely reaffirm the obvious on caste numbers.
Census data becomes a far more authentic instrument in the hands of the marginalised, to revisit the principles of parity and apportionment, of not only jobs and seats in admissions, but on the overall resources including budget expenditures.
(The writer teaches political science at University of Allahabad)