When India’s Lie Ends: A review of Republic of Caste: Thinking Equality in the Time of Neoliberal Hindutva by Anand Teltumbde

For those used to appreciating India as the largest democracy in the world, Anand Teltumbde’s recent work, Republic of Caste:Thinking Equality in the Time of Neoliberal Hindutva, will come as a rude shock. Teltumbde, a management professional, civil rights activist, and political analyst, articulates timely arguments that put paid to the decades-long publicity exercise that the Indian Republic has benefitted from. The book demonstrates how caste, and the violent exclusions it effects, is not only an on-going practice in the Republic, but is in fact hardwired into its operation.  While some scholars have more recently suggested that the observance of caste, especially in urban India, is declining, Teltumbde clarifies that while the ritualist aspects of casteist exclusion are indeed waning, this does not mean that caste is a spent force in India. On the contrary, as the book elaborates, caste has taken on new and terrifying aspects in contemporary India, finding new force and allies in the time of neo-liberalism.

If neo-liberalism rests, as Teltumbde demonstrates in the evocatively-titled chapter ‘The Education Mantra and the Exclusion Sutra’, on the privatisation of public goods, then the caste system, which rests on the appropriation of surplus of those at the bottom of the system is primordially suited to neo-liberalism. However, what the context of neo-liberalism– i.e. the corporate requirement of the Indian market and cheap labour, etc. – ensures is that now there is no criticism of the horrific culture of savarnas, nor any State attempt to reform it. This is what fuels the rise of Hindutva, which is gung-ho casteism of the Indian middle-classes, overwhelming constituted by dominant castes, rather than earlier apologetic casteism of the Congress.

But the renewed operation of caste in the functioning of the Indian Republic cannot be put down merely to the effects of this neoliberal time. Rather, ‘Reservations: A Spark and the Blaze’, the first chapter in book, demonstrates how, through the provision for caste-based reservations, the space for the legal operation of caste was written into the Constitution itself. Teltumbde affirms the need for a constitutional scheme of positive affirmation but suggests that the strategy adopted in the Constitution, which extended reservations to Tribes and Backward Classes, the latter being defined along caste lines has effectively reinforced caste identities. This, Teltumbde argues, is due, in large part, to the fact that the formulating of the Constitution and the schedules that identified groups able to claim reservation was merely an exercise that “served the Congress by exhibiting its commitment to social justice” (p. 51). As such, reservation now works “simply [as] a mechanism to ensure dalit participation [in the Republic], not a measure of justice” (p.59).

Refreshingly, Teltumbde does not hesitate questioning the major symbols that have taken on added significance in these troubled times. While there is no doubt that Teltumbde is committed to what the Indian Supreme Court would call constitutional values, he points to the largely undemocractic nature of the Constituent Assembly whose “members were indirectly elected via a system of proportional representation from the Congress-dominated provincial assemblies, which in turn had been elected in March 1946 on a restricted franchise consisting of about 20 to 24 per cent of the adult population” (p. 125); and the fact that the Constitution was “very largely a rehash of the India Act 1935” (p. 126). This is a bold argument at a time when many opponents and critics of the BJP government, including Dalit activists, base their opposition on a fierce defence of the Constitution.

There is a method to Teltumbde’s madness however, for he indicates that if we peel away the rhetoric and look critically at the Constitution, we would realise that:

Instead of being an instrument of change, it has, in operative terms, fortified the rule of the entrenched classes. The first-past-the-post election system, adopted as a method to effectuate democracy, is the primary mechanism that guarantees the perpetuation of the status quo. The structural absence of the feature of checks and balances between the three wings of the government – the legislature, executive and judiciary – considered most vital for any constitutional democracy, also furthers the same object. In India, the first two, i.e., the legislature and executive, collapse into a single oppressive apparatus that manifests in the nexus of police, bureaucracy and politicians at ground level, playing a maleficent role in every atrocity case. The only hope for ordinary people has been the judiciary, which for all its infirmities, has evinced a certain independence of mind from time to time. However, if one takes a view from the perspective of the exploited and the oppressed, its record is also pathetic. Barring some honourable exceptions, the courts have always been biased against the poor, tribals, dalits, and Muslims (p. 173).

Addressing those who uphold the Constitution as the result of Dr. Ambedkar’s efforts, Teltumbde points out that Ambedkar himself had disowned the Constitution soon after its adoption.  Discussing Ambedkar’s politics, Teltumbde stresses Ambedkar’s pragmatism, changing “opinions, decisions and actions” (p.27) to grapple with evolving situations and whose theory emerged not from a desire to craft theory, but was “the by-product of practical struggles that he waged…” (pp. 140-1). This appreciation of Ambedkar, which suggests taking his concerns as a starting point for our politics, offers a route away from contemporary attempt to deify Ambedkar which Teltumbde argues only aids Hindu nationalist attempts at controlling the “terms on which people engage with him, replacing the uncompromising thinker with a deified object of rituals, a saffron Ambedkar, a handy Trojan horse for gharwapsi” (p. 268).

As one would expect from someone who engages with the work of Ambedkar, Teltumbde is critical of Gandhi. But this critique could be sharper. Right in the first chapter, Teltumbde has the opportunity to point out that it was Gandhi’s stubborn refusal to allow for a separate electorate for the depressed classes, and his desire to constitute a Hindu majority that caste is at the beating heart of the Indian Republic. It is only in the twelfth chapter that he comes close to pointing this out, that thanks to the Poona Pact “The entire scheme of political empowerment of dalits conceived by Ambedkar was thus reversed to become its opposite, political enslavement” (p. 373), and this too is not satisfactorily articulated.

While a critical contribution to the appreciation of Indian politics, one cannot help feeling that the book lacks a coherent and systematic development of an argument. For example, the term Ambedkarite consciousness in used in the fifth chapter, even though criticised in an earlier chapter.  In an early part of the book he argues that the Green Revolution resulted in the “the erosion of an ethos of economic interdependence in the countryside” (p. 157), postulating later that “Economic interdependence is an aspect of liberty and its absence, as a corollary, spells slavery” (p. 211), dangerously suggesting the autonomous village as an arcadian paradise. These, inconsistencies probably result from the fact that the book is a collection of essays previously published in the author’s monthly column in the Economic and Political Weekly. A little more attention to the text would have gone a long way in making a more forceful argument.

The book is also marked, at times, by a bitterness, which is unsurprising given that Teltumbde admits to being misunderstood by many. The misunderstanding arises from Teltumbde’s challenging the prevailing understanding of both the Dalit and the left movements, when he sees caste and class as intertwined. There will be no resolution, he argues, to the pervasiveness of caste in the operation of the Indian republic until Indian citizens are able to follow Ambedkar’s lead in recognising the violence of caste but challenging it through harnessing of the language of class. Teltumbde’s argument for creating a class identity among castes comes out clearly when he analyzes the reasons for the Bahujan Samaj Party’s (BSP) limited success. Harshly critical of the forging of caste identities by groups such as the BSP, Teltumbde warns that “Castes are inherently divisive, they can never integrate. Nor can they be equalized” (p.366) and that the BSP’s formula of “caste-based coalition ends up deepening casteism – in ways antithetical to any social revolution” (p.364). He argues that the BSP’s formula could only be short-lived and tied to the context of Uttar Pradesh. Further, as the history of the BSP evidences, in the absence of a class agenda, the manipulative tactics would work against social revolution to privilege an elite within the party.

While critical of the functioning of Kanshi Ram and Mayawati of the BSP, Teltumbde also points out that their pragmatic politics are products of the Indian electoral democracy, where there is a grotesque and cynical use of the system to further feudal power. Their crudeness only highlights the rot of the system, for “when corruption is traced to a dalit, it gets amplified; when non-dalits engage in it, corruption appears muted or is simply dismissed as being of little consequence”(p.251).

The Republic of Caste makes for depressing and disturbing reading. The varied examples of castiesm that Teltumbde assembles fall like one bludgeon after another, revealing the quotidian violence that is the foundation of the Indian state. Is there a route out of this rot? Perhaps; Teltumbde suggests the rejection of mobilization along caste-based identities, the embrace of ethical politics, and above all revolution. At the close of the fifth chapter, he rightly observes that “Middle class attempts at tweaking the system appear trivial and ill-judged” (p. 201) an analysis that continues in his very perceptive analysis of the Aam Aadmi Party in the final chapter, and that it is only the Maoists who with their agenda of revolution “appear to have comprehended the dimension of the problem”. But the revolution he proposes is not necessarily the violent overthrow of the state. Rather, it revolves around the revolutionary – or dramatic – change in economic relations. In chapter six, where he lauds the movement in Una, Gujarat, he is clear that changing patterns of land ownership, where Dalits gain access to productive land, instead of the usual waste land, is at the heart of the revolutionary change he proposes.

Placed at the current moment, where the possibility of ethical politics in the face of contemporary Indian politics is remote, if not a joke, it appears that there is no hope in electoral politics and the only possible road to revolution would be to return to the moment before Gandhi wrecked the possibility of double electorates, i.e. to rework the Indian electoral system.

Republic of Caste: Thinking Equality in the Time of Neoliberal Hindutva

By Anand Teltumbde

Navayana, 2018, New Delhi, 432 pp., Rs 600 (HB)

ISBN 978-81-89059-84-2 

(A version of this text was first published in Biblio: A Review of Books Jan -Mar 2019)

AAP Goa as Colonial Agent?

While large numbers of its members are no doubt motivated by a genuine interest in redressing the many ills that plague Goan electoral democracy, the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) in Goa could in fact be seen as antithetical to the pressing needs of Goans,  pushing an agenda that other national parties, operating from Delhi have done before. If the traditional national parties like the Congress and the BJP had helped, with the help of local elites, to usher in forces of unbridled capitalism in the guise of development and Hindu nationalism in Goa, AAP seems to be operating within this same model. The only difference is that AAP promises that it will deliver Goa from rampant corruption. And yet, when examined from the perspective of the nexus between New Delhi and local dominant caste landed elites AAP’s claims of difference and salvation fall flat on its face.

To examine the claim of this Delhi-Goa colonial nexus we need to explore the case of the much-vaunted Goa Bachao Abhiyan (GBA) or Save Goa Movement. While it was spurred on by the genuine concerns of many Goans as to the way Goa was being destroyed, one could also see in it the operation of colonial power. The GBA appeared at a particular moment in Goan history, when land in Goa came to be eyed by external, i.e. Indian, realtors. Thus, the existing concerns of the larger populace were whipped to frenzy by the local elite to ensure that it was the interests of the local land-owning classes and construction firms that was secured. After an initial amount of muscle-flexing, that demonstrated to external realtors the power of the local elite the movement was effectively killed, when the representatives of the GBA on the Task Force for the Regional Plan (RP) 2021 resigned their positions.

As a result of this regrettable history, nothing emerged out of the GBA except for a paralysis of the Regional Plan process, even as the real-estate business continues as usual.  Indeed, the lesson that if foreign capital wants to enter Goa it would have to be in partnership with the local elite seems to have been learned admirably in case of the usurping of Tiracol by Leading Hotels. This unfortunate outcome, however, is very much in keeping with the history of popular movements in Goa since 1961, where the manipulation of the Goan population, and especially the bahujan Catholic populations of the Old Conquests, by dominant caste elites has been a standard. In every movement, one sees that the upper caste elites gain greater autonomy for unaccountable behavior, while the masses that agitate receive no benefit at all.

These forms of Goan politics seem to be repeating themselves under the AAP. To begin with, as many have pointed out, the way the AAP is operating, by focusing on the fears of the populations in the Old Conquests suggests that it is repeating this old formula of merely harnessing Old Conquest fears to ensure the success of the upper-caste and elite class leadership. While one need not be immediately suspect if one is upper-caste, the fact that the leadership of AAP, both in Goa, as well as in Delhi is almost exclusively upper-caste is a matter of grave concern.

What is also interesting about AAP Goa is that one can deduce in it the desire of well-meaning non-Goans who have settled in Goa to influence local politics. This desire to participate is welcome, indeed many of them come with exciting ideas that we can benefit from. But one nevertheless needs to question the balance of power under which this happens.  A number of Goa’s problems are in part the result of Indian desires to settle here, as well as the manner in which Goa has been hitched to India. As individuals, we are very often also unconscious representatives of large structural powers. As such, the fact that the articulation of so much of AAP’s outreach is in compliance with a national culture, manifest through the Gandhi topi, the Hindi sloganeering, even the Hindi language outreach of the leaders, makes one question which structural interests are being served, the nationalist designs of the AAP, or those of the average Goan? Is Delhi, or the desires of the national elites, dictating what happens in Goa, or do Goans dictate what happens in Goa? The dominance of Hindi in the outreach of AAP Goa seems to suggest that it is formulating an agenda that wishes to be in sync with the assumptions of the Delhi outfit.  In such a context, especially where Kejriwal chose to holler Bharat Mata ki Jai, what is the position of AAP on Special Status for Goa?

Further, AAP Goa has the grandiose scheme of contesting all 40 seats, with the apparently single point agenda of combating corruption. But is there really a lack of critical issues in Goa that one must focus solely on corruption? In this context, it should be noted that in a rather long interview with the Indian Express, Valmiki Naik secretary of AAP Goa, noticeably skirts issues critical to the bahujan and marginalized groups, such as that of the vexed Medium of Instruction issue. Besides, it can argue that corruption narrowly conceived as economic corruption alone is the most important agenda only when one is speaking from an upper-caste position. Viewed from a bahujan perspective, whether Hindu or Catholic, it is the destruction of the twin evils of Brahmanism and Hindutva that emerges as the priority. While not an insignificant issue, dealing with corruption can come later. A failure to realize this priority, once again because it is the local dominant castes that are in control of AAP Goa, will ensure that the placing of 40 candidates in the fray will only result in the splitting of the anti-BJP vote, and the BJP’s eventual success. A refusal to heed this reality will suggest that AAP’s designs are geared more towards local dominant caste assertion, as well as towards the desire of AAP Delhi to make a national mark, rather than addressing critical Goan needs.

A leaf from Goan history should offer good reason why AAP Goa should heed this caution. In the run-up to the first elections In Goa under Indian rule the Indian National Congress (INC) was extremely confident of a sweeping INC victory in the 1963 elections. Such was its confidence, that as Parag Parobo has pointed out in his book on early post-colonial Goa, the All India Congress General Secretary K. K. Shah announced that the INC did not require any special manifesto for Goa. All of this while tickets were given almost exclusively to individuals from dominant castes. Just as supporters of AAP today dismiss the need for a regional party, so too in 63 the INC was also confident of success because of its national location. And yet the INC experienced a crushing defeat at the polls. Not only did they not gain a single seat from Goa, but in many locations the candidates lost their deposits. The moral of that election was that local issues, not national were critical to electioneering, and secondly that issues of caste justice cannot be ignored and simply dismissed. The result of that election should offer sobering advice for AAP Goa that in many ways could be said to be repeating those mistakes.

This is not, however, necessarily the end. Merely because it currently threatens to operate as an agent of colonial rule, there is no reason, especially given the genuine concerns of large numbers of its members, that the AAP in Goa cannot reinvent itself. The question is, will it?

(This post was not published in any newspaper.)