Caste census and the politics of categorisation

The recently released 2015 Karnataka caste census has sparked political controversy, especially among Lingayat and Vokkaliga leaders. The Vokkaligara Sangha and the Akhila Bharata Veerashaiva Lingayat Mahasabha argue that the census grossly underrepresents their numbers. Their objections highlight how Lingayat and Vokkaliga identities were historically constructed and shaped – especially during British colonial censuses. The data warrants closer scrutiny through a historically informed, critical lens.

In the early 19th century, Lingayats were a religious sect spanning caste lines, while Vokkaligas were an occupational group of agriculturists. ‘Vokkaliga’ was originally a caste-neutral term, describing any farming community. By the 1941 census, however, it had solidified into a caste. Similarly, Lingayats – initially an anti-Brahmin sect – were gradually absorbed into the Brahmanical Hindu hierarchy and reclassified as a caste. For administrative ease, colonial censuses fixed these fluid identities into rigid categories. This influenced classification and shaped how communities saw themselves. Lingayat and Vokkaliga figures fluctuated with changing definitions from 1871 to 1941 – a pattern evident in the recent census.

Despite political efforts to consolidate various castes under Lingayat and Vokkaliga banners for over a century, these identities remain fragmented. During the 2015 census, castes like the Kunchitigas and Hallikaras – historically under the Vokkaliga umbrella – demanded separate enumeration. Within Lingayats, smaller artisan castes such as Kumbaras, Ganigas, and Kammaras often identified themselves by their occupational castes to access OBC reservations. More recently, Panchamasali Lingayats have sought a distinct reservation status apart from Lingayats.

Today, Lingayats are seen as a dominant caste – the 2015 census identified over 91 sub-castes within its fold, making up about 11% of Karnataka’s population. Understanding the historical evolution of this identity is key to grasping the concerns about undercounting.

In the 1871 Mysore Census, Lingayats were recorded as a religious sect encompassing a wide range of jatis – from Brahmin-like Aradhyas to Dalit Holeyas. Later colonial censuses, for administrative convenience, began consolidating them into a single ‘Lingayat caste’, flattening sectarian complexity.

Entries for Lingayats varied from one census to the next. Some listed ‘Lingayat’ as the caste and occupation as the sub-caste; others did the reverse. This inconsistency, rooted in the religious and proselytising nature of Lingayatism, often confused enumerators and left decisions to their discretion – a pattern likely repeated in 2015. Censuses after 1901 stopped listing sub-castes or merged them under occupational castes, failing to capture sectarian diversity. Lingayat Kumbara, for example, appeared under both ‘Kumbara’ and ‘Lingayat’, but was ultimately counted as Hindu Kumbara. Such inconsistencies remain today, as enumeration still depends heavily on how caste and sub-caste entries are recorded by the enumerator.

Colonial census commissioners repeatedly noted the Lingayat underrepresentation. The 1921 Bombay Census instructed officials to classify Lingayats as Hindus – a decision with lasting impact. In Karnataka, Lingayats fall under the 3B category for reservations (5% of total seats), while occupational castes under 2A have access to 15%. For a Lingayat from an occupational caste like Ganiga or Kumbara, it’s more advantageous to claim 2A status. As a result, many such castes distance themselves from the Lingayat label, reducing their numbers in the 2015 count.

Compared to Lingayats, Vokkaligas had a more stable identity, despite internal divisions – such as whether Kunchitigas or Hallikaras should be considered Vokkaligas. Despite shared customs and social status, Vokkaliga jatis rarely intermarried until recently. As late as 2014, an inter-caste marriage between Vokkaliga jatis sparked strong opposition, culminating in the killing of the girl.

The Vokkaliga caste list evolved with each colonial census: 54 castes in 1871, 37 in 1891, and 181 in 1901. Population drops in 1911–1921 reflected Kunchitigas’ separate listing. In 1941, Hallikaras (known for breeding and rearing the Hallikar variety of cattle) were reclassified, deemed closer to Yadavas than Vokkaligas. The 2015 Kunchitiga petition asking them to be counted differently from Vokkaligas rekindles questions about the cohesion of the Vokkaliga category. Kunchitiga associations repeatedly issued advertisements and press statements appealing to members not to identify themselves as Vokkaligas in the census and report themselves as only Kunchitigas. Similar statements were issued by Hallikaras.

A colonial legacy

The real challenge with today’s caste numbers lies not in their mathematical precision, but in the historical assumptions that underpin them. Caste was never a fixed, universal system – it was localised, fluid, and often dependent on context. Yet the colonial censuses insisted on standardising, labelling, and ranking communities within a rigid caste hierarchy. This bureaucratic urge to classify not only shaped public perception but restructured the communities themselves. Lingayats, once a fluid religious sect, underwent a process of Sanskritisation and were gradually reduced to a caste. Vokkaligas, once merely an occupational label, were consolidated into a political constituency.

The resistance from Lingayat and Vokkaliga leaders to the census should not be about “low numbers” but about the census’ inability to capture the layered, historically contingent, and politically negotiated nature of these identities. Collapsing occupational or sectarian jatis into singular caste categories creates a misleading sense of precision. Yet, the caste census offers a form of numerical reality – one that should be acknowledged for what it is, rather than entirely dismissed, as some leaders are demanding.

The Karnataka caste census of 2015 is not a definitive statement – it is a snapshot of an ongoing story shaped by colonial legacies, identity politics, and social mobilisation. Lingayats and Vokkaligas are not monolithic castes; they are coalitions of histories, occupations, and beliefs that have continually adapted and resisted state categorisation. Their numbers – however precise – are political artefacts shaped as much by history as by demography and must be read with nuance. Instead of calling for the outright rejection of the census, leaders from both communities would do well to use it as a mirror – to reflect on the internal complexities, diversities, and evolving identities within their groups.

(The writer teaches at IIT Bombay)

Disclaimer: The views expressed above are the author's own. They do not necessarily reflect the views of DH.