<p>By now, it has become clear that the debate around the proposed <a href="https://www.deccanherald.com/tags/caste-census">caste census</a> is not just about numbers – it is about what we choose to see and what we choose to ignore. While caste continues to shape nearly every aspect of opportunity in India, the data we have to track this influence is shaky at best, and in some areas, completely missing.</p>.<p>Let’s be honest: the last time India did a full caste count was way back in 1931. That was under colonial rule. Post-Independence, we’ve largely avoided going down that road. Sure, the Socio-Economic and Caste Census in 2011 was supposed to change that – but what happened? The data collected as part of the census was full of duplication, misclassification, and spelling variations – reportedly over 46 lakh caste names were entered. The chaos was so severe that the government never officially published the results.</p>.<p>In the meantime, most of our major surveys and policies continue using big-bucket categories such as Scheduled Castes (SC), Scheduled Tribes (ST), and Other Backward Classes (OBC). These are useful, but only up to a point. What they don’t show are the sharp divides within each group. Not all OBCs are equally backward. Some, like the Yadavs or the Jats, have risen economically and politically. Others remain almost invisible in power structures and databases alike.</p>.<p>This one-size-fits-all approach causes more harm than good. If government schemes, reservations, or welfare measures are based on such sweeping categories, the benefits often go to the louder, more organised groups within a category – not the most vulnerable.</p>.<p>Let’s take land, for example. Data from the NSS 77th Round shows that SC families – around 16% of the population – own barely 7.2% of India’s agricultural land. And we know that land is not just about farming – it’s about access, dignity, and security. Yet even this data doesn’t tell us who owns how much within that 16%. Which SC groups? In which states? We don’t know.</p>.<p>There’s another layer no one talks about enough: this is about how caste interacts with class, location, and gender. A Dalit woman from a rural district in Bihar likely faces challenges that are very different from those faced by a middle-class OBC man in a South Indian city. But our systems don’t distinguish between these realities – they just lump everyone into SC, ST, or OBC.</p>.<p>This leads to misplaced targeting. Our current reservation policies still use caste population estimates from nearly a hundred years ago. The introduction of the 10% EWS (Economically Weaker Section) quota for upper castes is another example. It’s based only on income, without a reliable map of how caste still limits access, even among the economically poor.</p>.<p><strong>Exclusion beyond numbers</strong></p>.<p>Some state governments have taken matters into their hands. Bihar’s 2023 caste survey is one recent example. It found that OBCs and EBCs make up over 63% of the state’s population. This sparked calls for adjusting reservation quotas to better reflect the demographic realities. But here’s the problem: without national-level data, these changes remain scattered and piecemeal.</p>.<p>The vacuum of trustworthy data creates space for political guesswork. Parties build caste coalitions based on assumptions, not verified needs. And the worst part? The communities that are most in need of support stay overlooked. So, what can be done? India needs a fresh, well-designed caste and economic survey – one that not only identifies who people are but also records how they live: What work do they do? What land do they own? Are their children in school? Can they access healthcare? If privacy and accuracy are respected, such data can guide more equitable policies.</p>.<p>In addition, the policymakers should consider developing a broader Social Disadvantage Index. This would include more than just caste – think education, gender, disability, and region. After all, exclusion doesn’t wear just one label.</p>.<p>Yes, some critics argue that collecting caste data might deepen existing social divisions. But avoiding the topic won’t make inequality vanish. Caste continues to shape everyday life in the country – from job opportunities to who gets the last glass of water on a train. Ignoring that reality doesn’t make us progressive; it makes us blind.</p>.<p>If India truly wants to be inclusive, we need to move away from outdated assumptions and start working with real, grounded evidence. The future can’t be built on guesswork. It has to be built on truth – even when the truth is uncomfortable.</p>.<p><em>(Taru is an assistant professor, Department of Economics, Christ University, Bengaluru; Manu is an assistant professor, Department of Economics, Alliance University, Bengaluru)</em></p>
<p>By now, it has become clear that the debate around the proposed <a href="https://www.deccanherald.com/tags/caste-census">caste census</a> is not just about numbers – it is about what we choose to see and what we choose to ignore. While caste continues to shape nearly every aspect of opportunity in India, the data we have to track this influence is shaky at best, and in some areas, completely missing.</p>.<p>Let’s be honest: the last time India did a full caste count was way back in 1931. That was under colonial rule. Post-Independence, we’ve largely avoided going down that road. Sure, the Socio-Economic and Caste Census in 2011 was supposed to change that – but what happened? The data collected as part of the census was full of duplication, misclassification, and spelling variations – reportedly over 46 lakh caste names were entered. The chaos was so severe that the government never officially published the results.</p>.<p>In the meantime, most of our major surveys and policies continue using big-bucket categories such as Scheduled Castes (SC), Scheduled Tribes (ST), and Other Backward Classes (OBC). These are useful, but only up to a point. What they don’t show are the sharp divides within each group. Not all OBCs are equally backward. Some, like the Yadavs or the Jats, have risen economically and politically. Others remain almost invisible in power structures and databases alike.</p>.<p>This one-size-fits-all approach causes more harm than good. If government schemes, reservations, or welfare measures are based on such sweeping categories, the benefits often go to the louder, more organised groups within a category – not the most vulnerable.</p>.<p>Let’s take land, for example. Data from the NSS 77th Round shows that SC families – around 16% of the population – own barely 7.2% of India’s agricultural land. And we know that land is not just about farming – it’s about access, dignity, and security. Yet even this data doesn’t tell us who owns how much within that 16%. Which SC groups? In which states? We don’t know.</p>.<p>There’s another layer no one talks about enough: this is about how caste interacts with class, location, and gender. A Dalit woman from a rural district in Bihar likely faces challenges that are very different from those faced by a middle-class OBC man in a South Indian city. But our systems don’t distinguish between these realities – they just lump everyone into SC, ST, or OBC.</p>.<p>This leads to misplaced targeting. Our current reservation policies still use caste population estimates from nearly a hundred years ago. The introduction of the 10% EWS (Economically Weaker Section) quota for upper castes is another example. It’s based only on income, without a reliable map of how caste still limits access, even among the economically poor.</p>.<p><strong>Exclusion beyond numbers</strong></p>.<p>Some state governments have taken matters into their hands. Bihar’s 2023 caste survey is one recent example. It found that OBCs and EBCs make up over 63% of the state’s population. This sparked calls for adjusting reservation quotas to better reflect the demographic realities. But here’s the problem: without national-level data, these changes remain scattered and piecemeal.</p>.<p>The vacuum of trustworthy data creates space for political guesswork. Parties build caste coalitions based on assumptions, not verified needs. And the worst part? The communities that are most in need of support stay overlooked. So, what can be done? India needs a fresh, well-designed caste and economic survey – one that not only identifies who people are but also records how they live: What work do they do? What land do they own? Are their children in school? Can they access healthcare? If privacy and accuracy are respected, such data can guide more equitable policies.</p>.<p>In addition, the policymakers should consider developing a broader Social Disadvantage Index. This would include more than just caste – think education, gender, disability, and region. After all, exclusion doesn’t wear just one label.</p>.<p>Yes, some critics argue that collecting caste data might deepen existing social divisions. But avoiding the topic won’t make inequality vanish. Caste continues to shape everyday life in the country – from job opportunities to who gets the last glass of water on a train. Ignoring that reality doesn’t make us progressive; it makes us blind.</p>.<p>If India truly wants to be inclusive, we need to move away from outdated assumptions and start working with real, grounded evidence. The future can’t be built on guesswork. It has to be built on truth – even when the truth is uncomfortable.</p>.<p><em>(Taru is an assistant professor, Department of Economics, Christ University, Bengaluru; Manu is an assistant professor, Department of Economics, Alliance University, Bengaluru)</em></p>