Ipothee ict in Shosh. s of the ashan, Press cation n Press lishing ation’ - Dalit Nadu’ . New jevous One Step OutstpE Mopernity Caste, Identity Politics and Public Sphere M.S. S. PanDIAN English, is perhaps a useful place to begin one’s explorations into the com- plex interrelationship between caste, identity politics and the public sphere When I read it recently, one of the things that struck me the most was how Narayan, whose fictional world dealt substantially with the life of rural and small town south India, was almost completely silent about his caste identity.[..] ‘The subtle act of transcoding caste and caste relations into something else— as though to talk about caste as caste would incarcerate one into a pre-modern realm—is a regular feature one finds in most upper-caste autobiographies. Caste always belongs to someone else; itis somewhere else; itis of another time. The act of transcoding is an act of acknowledging and disavowing caste at once. Inmarked contrast to the upper-caste autobiographies, the self-definition ofone’s identity, as found in the autobiographies of the lower castes, is located explicitly in caste as a relational identity. The autobiographical renditions of Bhama or Viramma, two Dalit women from the Tamil-speaking region, the poignant autobiographical fragments of Dalits from Maharashtra, put together by Arjun Dangle in his edited volume Corpse in the Well, and Vasant Moon's Growing up Untouchable in India, are all suffused with the language of caste—at times mutinous, at times moving (Bhama 1994; Viramma et al. 1997; Dangle 1994; Moon 2001). Most often the very act of writing an autobiography for a person belonging to a lower caste is to talk about and engage with the issue of caste.' In other words, we have here two competing sets of languages dealing with the issue of caste. One talks of caste by other means; and the other talks of caste on its ‘own terms’. My attempt in the rest of the essay is to understand the implication of these two sets of languages for the play of identities in the public sphere under the long shadow of modernity. Te autobiography of R. K. Narayan, the well-known Indian writer in * This chapter has been extracted from a longer paper published by the author in the Economic and Political Weekly 37 (18), 04 May 2002.394 M.S. S. Panoian " A Cotoniat Story First, let us have a look at the historical conditions that facilitated and made possible these two competing modes of talking about castes. This straightaway takes us to the domain of culture as articulated by dominant Indian nationalism, in its battle against colonialism. In an influential formulation, Partha Chatterjee has argued that anti-colonial nationalism marks our the domain of culture or spirituality as ‘its own domain of sovereignty within colonial society well before it begins its political battle with the imperial power’ (Chatterjee 1995 [1993]: 7). As Chatterjee shows, in the discourse of nationalism, “The greater one’s success in imitating western skills in the material domain, ... the greater the need to preserve the distinctness of one's spiritual culture’ (ibid.).... While I agree with the new possibilities opened up by Chatterjee’s argument about nationalism in the colonial context, if we pluralise ‘national community’ and ‘national culture’, the obvious triumph of dominant nationalism over colonialism would at once emerge as a story of domination over varied sections of the subaltern social groups within the nation. In other words, if we foreground dominant nationalism in an oppositional dialogue with the subaltern social groups within the nation—instead of colonialism—the divide between the spiritual and material, inner and outer, would tell us other stories—stories of domination and exclusion under the sign of culture and spirituality within the so-called national community itself. That is, the very domain of sovereignty that nationalism carves out in the face of colonial domination is simultaneously a domain of enforcing domination over the subaltern social groups such as lower castes, women and marginal linguistic regions, by the national elite.... (WJhat we find is a valorised opposition between colonialism and nationalism. The nationalist invocation of Vedic civilisation indeed challenges the claims to supremacy by the colonisers. However, it also carries an unstated hierarchisation of different social groups that go to make the nation, ‘The normativity of a Vedic civilisation, re-invented by dominant nationalism, would accommodate vast sections of Indians only as inferiors within the nation.’ It is not so much the triumph of non-modular nationalism over colonialism, but its inability to exercise hegemony over the life of the nation, is where we can locate the source of two competing modes of speaking caste.(...] [Elite Indian nationalism scripted the story by working through the binaries of spiritual/material, inner/outer and valorising the inner or spiritual as the uncolonised site of national selfhood. But it had a less triumphal implication for the subaltern lasses. [ Simultaneously, the so-called sovereign domain of culture uncolonised by the West remained a domain to affirm elite upper-caste culture/spirituality as the culture of the nation. We have already seen this through the instance of Sivaswami Aiyer’s spirituality. This act of mobilising a part of the national to stand for the whole, not only inferiorised vast sections of lower castes as inadequate citizens-in-themaking,* but also significantly delegitimised the language of caste in the domain of politics byle possible akes us to 1 its battle rgued that as ‘its own tical battle ws, in the cills in the ’s spiritual argument unity’ and slonialism subaltern dominant ps within | material, exclusion ymmunity in the face ation over linguistic 2 between on indeed carties an ition. The m, would ? Teis not s inability source of vinaries of colonised. subaltern ed by the he culture mi Aiyer’s vhole, not emaking,* politics by ‘One Step Outside Modernity 395 annexing it as part of the cultural. Ics only by unsettling the boundaries between the , spiritual and material, inner and outer, could the lower castes (and women) contest the logic of exclusion inherent in the so-called national culture and talk caste in the colonial public sphere. ‘The intersection between the act of unsettling the boundary between spiritual and material, and the efforts of dominant nationalism to enforce this very boundary is the point at which we can trace the arrival of the two modes of talking about caste which I have mentioned earlier. In fact, much of the politics of Periyar E. V. Ramasamy or Babasaheb Ambedkar can be read as an effort to unsettle the boundary between the spiritual and the material, and recover a space for the language of caste in the colonial public sphere. However, it is a far more interesting story how the mainstream nationalists, in confronting this language of caste in the domain of politics, responded to it. In 1933, the municipality of Pollachi, a small town in western Tamil Nadu, introduced a regulation to do away with the separate dining spaces marked out for the Brahmins and the non-Brahmins in hotels. Sivaswami Aiyer opposed the move by claiming that it was interference in personal matters (Gandhi 1933). Here is an obvious story of pushing back caste into the inner domain of culture. But most often, caste, once brought into the public domain, refused to heed such nationalist advice. It stayed on, speaking its own language, though from marginal and stigmatised spaces. In the face of such stubbornness, caste ofien gets written out as a part of the colonial strategy of ‘divide and rule’ and, thus, its invocation in the domain of politics stigmatised. The story of how the nationalisms of E. V. Ramasamy and Ambedkar are suspect even today; and how they, in the dominant nationalist thinking, remain as ‘collaborators’ with the British, would illustrate this.* At another level, caste gets transcoded as a modern institution in an effort to shut out the language of caste from the public sphere. Let me take the case of untouchability. There was an avalanche of publications in the first half of the twentieth century, which explained away untouchability by resorting to a discourse of hygiene. P. V. Jagadisa Aiyyer, whose monograph South Indian Customs, published originally in 1925 but in print even today, has the following to say: The Indian custom of observing distance pollution, etc., has hygienic and sanitary considerations in view. In general the so-called pious and religious people are generally most scrupulously clean and hence contact with people of uncleanly habits is nauseating to them ... people living on unwholesome food such as rotten fish, flesh, garlic, etc. as well as the people of filthy and unclean habits throw out of their bodies coarse and unhealthy magnetism. This affects the religious people of pure habits and diet injuriously. So they keep themselves at a safe distance which has been fixed by the sages of old after sufficient experience and experiment. (Aiyyar 1985{1925]: ix) This quote is interesting on several counts. There is not a moment when it acknowledges caste. The upper castes, on the one hand, get encoded here as ‘so- called pious and religious people’ or as ‘religious people of pure habits’. The lower castes, on the other, are encoded as ‘people living on rotten fish, flesh, garlic, etc’.396 M.S. S. Panoian Fish, flesh and garlic—all are tabooed in the world of the brahmin and certain other upper castes. Interestingly, Jagadisa Aiyyer does not invoke merely experience, but experimentation as well. The authority of experimentation summons science to vali- date caste pollution.” In other contexts, caste, in the hands of the upper castes and dominant nationalists, reincarnates as division of labour. Though one can easily provide several instances to illustrate this, let me just confine my self to one. In an editorial appropriately titled “How Caste Helps’, New India, the journal of the Theosophical Society edited by Annie Beasant, noted, ‘However much we may declaim against the thraldom of caste in details, the fundamental four divisions of men are so much part of the natural order of things that they will remain as long as servants and traders and soldiers and teachers perform their duties amongst us.’ It further added, ‘.. caste in itself is not peculiar to India, but is found everywhere, Servers, merchants fighters and rulers, priests, every people has them, though the name is different according to the nation’ (New India 58 [77] 1916). Here, Annie Besant, a vociferous defender of brahminism, who tried her best to wreck the non-brahmin political mobilisation in colonial Madras Presidency, naturalises caste. In doing so, she assimilates caste as part of a universal structure of division of labour and denies i any socio-historical specificity. Both the acts of naturalising caste and denying it any specificity, work in tandem to invalidate caste as a relevant category in public sphere and politics. In tracing the historical moment of the arrival of two modes of talking about caste in the Indian public sphere, as it unfolded in the womb of colonialism, let me emphasise two key points: first, the very nationalist resolution founded on the divide between spiritual and material rendered the mode of talking caste on its own terms in the material/public sphere, an illegitimate project.~Two, its response to those who still chose the language of caste in the domain of politics by crossing the divide between the spiritual and material is one of mobilising modernity (hygiene and division of labour as instances we have seen) and nation to inscribe the language of caste as once again illegitimate. ‘The intimacy between modernity and the desire to keep caste out of the public sphere had its own particular career in postcolonial India, to which now I turn. m Postcotontat ANGST With the end of colonial rule, the ambivalence towards the modern exhibited by the Indian nationalist elite during the colonial period withered. Now it is modernity on the terms of the ‘nation’ itself. The character of this new journey along the path of the modern by the Indian nation-state has been captured by Partha Chatterjee in the following words: “The modern state, embedded as it is within the universal narrative of capital, cannot recognise within its jurisdiction any form of community except the single, determinate, demographically enumerable form of the nation’ (Chatterjee 1995 [1993]: 238). However, it is important here to recognise that this very opposition between the state (and/or capital) and the community wouldrtain other rience, but nce to vali- dominant ly provide n editorial, cosophical against the much part und traders od. caste nts fighters - according 1s defender obilisation tes caste as o-historical ey, work in litics. king about nialism, let ded on the ‘on its own esponse {0 rossing the ry (hygiene re language che public Turn, chibited by | modernity ng the path Chatterjee 1¢ universal community the nation’ ognise that nity would One Step Outside Modernity 397 make community indispensable for the articulation of the nation. After all, only by recognising the presence of communities can the nation-state deny their legitimacy and affirm the nation. This simultaneous inseparability and antagonism between the modern state and community is of critical importance to understand the politics of two modes of talking caste in postcolonial India.* In exploring this connection between modernity and caste in postcolonial India, the writings of M. N. Srinivas, who was committed at once to the developmental state and sociology,’ is most helpful, Let us have a look at his much-hyped theory of Sanskritisation and westernisation. Stripped down to its basics, the theory, within a comparative framework, claims that the lower castes Sanskritise and the upper castes westernise (Srinivas 1972). Taking a cue from Johannes Fabian's argument about how the West constructs its ‘other’ by ‘the denial of coevalness’ (Fabian 1983)," we can immediately locate a teleological scheme within Srinivas’s comparative analysis. ‘The teleology moves from lower-caste practices to Sanskritisation to westernisation. ‘This very teleology sets caste as the ‘other’ of the modern. But we need to remember here that what looks here like the unmarked modern is stealthily upper caste in its orientation. What M. N. Srinivas offers us as the history of westernisation in India is eminently instructive here. He writes: Only a tiny fraction of the Indian population came into direct, fact-to-face contact with the British or other Europeans, and those who came into such contact did not always become a force for change. Indian servants of the British, for instance, prob- ably wielded some influence among their kin groups and local caste groups but not among others. They generally came from the low castes, their westernisation was of a superficial kind, and the upper castes made fun of their Pidgin English, their absurd admiration for their employers, and the airs they gave themselves. Similarly, converts to Christianity from Hinduism did not exercise much influence as a whole because first, these also came from the low castes, and second, the act of conversion often only changed the faith but not the customs, the general culture, or the standing of the converts in sociery. (Srinivas 1972: 60) Very clearly, for M. N. Srinivas, the source of the Indian modern cannot be the lower castes. Their attempts could only remain superficial trapped in pidgin English and absurd admiration for their employers. I is evident that Indian modern, despite its claim to be universal—and of course, because of it—not only constitutes lower caste as its ‘other’, but also inscribes itself silently as upper caste. Thus, caste, as the other of the modern, always belongs 10 the lower castes.” Given this particular character of the Indian modern, it proscribes and stigmatises the language of caste in the public sphere. It does so even while it talks caste by other means. In understanding the politics of this authorised language of the public sphere, M. N. Srinivas is once again helpful. It was thanks to Edmund Leach that Srinivas, who spoke all the time about caste in general but never about his own, spoke of his caste identity. In a review of Srinivass Caste in Modern India, Leach called his Sanskritisation model ‘Brahminocentric’ and taunted him whether his interpretation would have been different if he were a Shudra (Srinivas 1972:398 M.S. S. Panoian 148). If the incitement of the rabid Christians and the non-brahmins occasioned R. K. Narayan's acknowledgement of his upper-caste identity, the incitement of Edmund Leach prompted Srinivas to concede his own caste identity. He claimed: my stressing of the importance of the Backward Classes Movement, and of the role of caste in politics and administration, are very probably the result of my being a south Indian, and a brahmin at that. The principle of caste quotas for appointments to posts in the administration, and for admissions to scientific and technological courses, Produced much bitterness among Mysore brahmins. Some of these were my friends and relatives, and I could not help being sensitive to their distress, (Ibid.: 152) This is familiar enough. Distress of the brahmin is the theme song of the post- Mandal modern public sphere of India. M. N. Srinivas, to his credit, talks of it even earlier. But what is quite illuminating here is that as soon as he confesses his caste identity (with the caveat of ‘very probably), he hastens to enfeeble it. In the place of his sensitivity to the distress of the Mysore brahmins, now he presents a range of things that has nothing to do with caste as such, as the reason for his opposition to caste quotas. He could not help being sensitive ‘to the steady deterioration in efficiency and the fouling of interpersonal relations in academic circles and the administration—both results of a policy of caste quotas. As one with a strong attachment to Mysore, I could not but be affected by the manner in which conflicts between castes prevented concentration on the all-important task of developing the economic resources of the state for the benefit of all sections of its population’ (ibid.: 152-53), Srinivas, at one level, emerges here as one of ‘.. those ‘experts’ on caste who consider ic their duty to protect caste from the pollution of politics’ (Kothari 1986 [1970]: 6). Here is a torrent of words—‘decline of efficiency’, ‘fouling of interpersonal relations’, ‘the benefit of all sections of the population’ —all conspire to keep caste out of public articulation. In the heart of all of it what we find is the well-known principle of ‘common good’ as a civic ideal. As the feminist and other minoritarian critiques of civic republican ideal of ‘common good’ have shown us, the deployment of ‘common good as the so-called democratic ideal elbows out the politics of difference based on inferiorised identities and sports the interests of the Powerful as that of the society as a whole. As Chantal Moutfe has argued, ‘all forms of consensus are by necessity based on acts of exclusion’ (1992: 379). However, this is not merely a story of interests, but of democracy and its articulation in the public sphere. The deracinated language of ‘common good’ comes in the way of the formation of an inclusive public sphere. ‘The pressure exerted by the modern most often forces the subordinated castes into silence and self-hate. D. R. Nagaraj, a fellow traveller and a scholar of the Dalit movement in Karnataka, notes, “The birth of the modern individual in the humiliated communities is not only accompanied by a painful severing of ties with the community, but also a conscious effort to alter one's past is an integral part of it’ (Nagaraj 1993: 7-8)... ‘he response of the Indian modern, when the insurrection of the prohibited language of caste occurs in the public sphere, would illuminate the contradictory relationship between modernity and mass politics in India. The year 1990, whenecasioned ement of ‘aimed: of the being a nents to friends ) ‘the post- ofiteven s his caste the place ts a range position oration in s and the a strong, h conflicts loping the on’ (ibid.: caste who "(Kothari fouling of conspire find is the and other shown us, ws out the ests of the “all forms However, jon in the way of the dern most Nagaraj, a “The birth ompanied ort to alter prohibited tradictory )90, when (One Step Outside Modernity 399 igh asthe prime minister of India decided ro implementa part of the Mandal Commission Report, was such a moment. As an illustration, of Ashok Mitra, well-known Marxist and a believer in ‘Pe modern selfhood is not in doubt at al. Ina rather revealing statement, he claimed, “The government’ decison ... represents the ultimate triumph of the message of Babasaheb Ambedkar over the preachings of secularist. Sullied by the language of caste, Ambedkar cannot be part of the secular-modern. He goes on, as a Marxist, to enumerate national ills—which ate, for him, more real—such as misdistribution of arable land, near-universal illiteracy and general lack of health. Caste is, however, refused a place in his secular-modern reckoning. let me take the response “ople's Democracy’. His ‘Then come his ruminations about mass politics: “For the nation's majority, the oppressive arrangements the system has spawned are little different from what obtained under medieval feudalism. With just one exception, medieval tyrants did not have to worry about votes. Modern leaders have to. They cannot therefore ignore pressure groups, who claim to speak on behalf of neglected classes or sections. ‘These groups have to be taken at their face value for they supposedly represent solid vote banks. Revolutions are not next door, but the threat of vores withheld, or being hawked around to other bidders, works’. The simultaneous disenchantment of the Indian modern (even in its Marxist incarnation) with the language of caste as well as that of mass politics is all too transparent here. The perceptive comment about the doctrinaire modernist made three decades back by Rajni Kothari, still holds ‘true: “Those who in India who complain of “casteism in politics” are really looking for a sort of politics which has no basis in society. They also probably lack any clear conception of either the nature of politics or the nature of the caste system (Many of them would want to throw out both politics and caste system)" In concluding this essay, let me dwell a bit on how the Indian modern’s revolt against democracy has shaped the lower caste responses. In theit response, the modern is both mobilised and critiqued, for the promises of modernity and what i delivers in practice are often in contradiction.... This contradictory engagement with modernity by the lower castes has an important message for all of us: That is, being one step outside modernity alone can guarantee us a public where the poli- tics of difference can articulate itself, and caste can emerge as a legitimate category of democratic politics. Being one step outside modernity is indeed being one step ahead of modernity. Notes 1. Though the essay talks about caste in general, it draws its instances from the brahmins and Dalits. Ie isso because, given their location in the caste hierarchy, their instances can be of help in delineating sharply che argument of the essay. 2. Partha Chatterjee is not unaware ofthis problem. However, even while acknowledging this problem, the primary focus of the book is on the opposition between nationalism and colonialism. It is my plea that if we shift the emphasis from the contradiction between nationalism and colonialism to the contradictions within nationalism, the outcomes would be rather different.400 M.S. S. Panoian 3. Ie is rather instructive here to take note of what Stuart Hall and David Held have to say about citizenship: “The issue around membership—who does and who does not belong- is where the politics of citizenship begins. Its impossible to chart the history of the concept very far without coming sharply up against successive attempts to restrict citizenship to certain groups and to exclude others. In different historical periods, different groups have led, and profited from, this ‘politics of closure’: property-owners, men, white people, the educated, those in particular occupations or with particular skills, adults.” See Halll and Held (1989: 175). 4, For a recent attempt to characterise Ambedkar as a British collaborator, see Shouric (1997). Characteristically, one of the chapters in the book is titled “The British Strategem and Its Indian Advocate’. 5. Here is yet another instance of bringing forth western authority to defend caste pollution: Arya Bala Bodini, a children’s magazine brought out by the Theosophical Society, ‘wrote in 1897, “The Brahmins, particularly the Vaisnavites, insist that they be not seen by others while at dinner. The custom is denounced and declared silly. Efforts are made now and then to bring a miscellaneous crowd to eat together and any success that might attend such gatherings is advertised as grand. People, who ought to know better, exult in such small triumphs, as chey would putit, over blind orthodoxy. Let us, however, see what a distinguished vwesterner has to say on this subject. Says Professor Max Muller in the Cosmopolis thus: “The Hindus seem to me to show their good taste by retiring while they feed, and re-appear only after they have washed their hands and face. Why should we be so anxious to perform this no doubt necessary function before the eyes of our friends? Could not atleast the grosser part of feeding be performed in private, and the social gathering begin at the dessert, or, with men, at the wine...” (Arya Bala Bodini 3 (5): 114, May 1897). 6. Fora recent and highly sophisticated account of the simultaneous inseparability and antagonism between state and community, see Krishna (1999). Let me also note here that the relationship between the narrative of capital and that of community need not always be one of opposition. They can come together in denying a universal western narrative of capital. For example, see Ong (1999). 7. Emphasising these two roles ofa sociologist, M. N. Srinivas wrote, “The government of India has an understandable tendency to stress the need for sociological research that is directly related to planning and development. And it is the duty of the sociologists as izens that they should take part in such research. But there is a grave risk that “pure” or “fundamental” might be sacrificed altogether’ (Srinivas et al. 1963 [1955]: 5) 8, Walter Mignola characterises the ‘denial of coevalness’ as ‘the replacement of the ‘other in space by the ‘other’ in time...and the articulation of cultural differences in chronological hierarchies’ in Mignolo (1995: xi). 9. This is very similar to the manner in which race figures in the western discourse. As Paul Gilroy notes“... the history of slavery is somehow assigned to blacks. It becomes our special property rather than a part of the ethical and intellectual heritage of the west as a whole’ Gilroy (1996 [1993]: 49). 10. Kothari (1986 [1970]: 4). Fora similar argument, see D. L. Sheth, ‘Changing Terms of Elite Discourse: The Case of Reservation for Other Backward Classes’ in Sathyamurthy, ed, (1996). References Aiyyar, P. V. Jagadisa. 1985 [1925]. South Indian Customs, Asian Educational Services, New Delhi, p ix. 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