Caste: I am not, but I am

Anyone who even dabbles in academia, especially in the social sciences, would be wary of making a singular, essentialist statement about caste. Because, caste in contemporary India operates in several layers, constantly renegotiating their exertions with varying space and time. Socio-historical emplacement, political and economic disenfranchisement, aesthetic and racial overtones, and linguistic and symbolic violence are some of the layers that complexify the idea of caste in public discourse. Nevertheless, at the risk of being wordy and simplistic, I’ll try to present my understanding of caste in a way that is most relevant to an audience that browses through blogs like this. (In saying so, I do not mean to characterize the readers’ acumen one way or the other.)

Ideology vs. Social Reality

One of the primary attributes of caste is the identity it imparts on an individual. The identity is so rigid that even Marxist theorists have floundered in their assessments about caste. I have a friend who, at least according to him, grew up in an environment that allowed him to be oblivious of his caste identity. He wasn’t aware of his fellow students’ either. So caste, seemingly, played a minimal role in how he turned out. In one of our conversations I referred to him as a Brahmin and he objected to it. He said, “I don’t even know what it means to be a Brahmin and I don’t care if I am not one. Why do you want to make that association still?”

While many of us may not identify ourselves with any caste (or religion) anymore, we cannot ignore that it’s only in principle, and our actions as we understand it. My friend may have been unaware of his caste himself, but the environment probably wasn’t. Privilege is a relative idea that needs be situated to appreciate it. He, to a slightly lesser extent, I and a lot of us are privileged in that we were not made to sit out of class rooms, served tea in a separate tumbler, denied entry into a temple, and patronized by the government – some of the many forms of oppression the lower-caste individuals go through.

Being in this privileged position enables us to form a worldview that is often devoid of critical assessment of power structures that bind us. For we are not at the bottom of the pyramid; status quo, as long as it enables our mobility, is not a problem [1]. We make every reason to defend the substructures – like religious dogma, morality, partisan ethics, “merit” etc. – that limit the access to power to the others. The most disturbing aspect of this equation is the upper caste rhetoric that tries to conceal the underlying ruthless, ant-colony behaviour [2].

I remember a lecture during which one of my professors spoke about the time she realized she was white. She probably knew she was white all along, but it took that one moment to remind her how she’s different from the black or the brown. As she put it, “the realization didn’t change my race, but it urged me to racialize more issues.” The same applies to caste and a society where castes exist. I may detest my caste now, but I still would not be able to divorce the privilege it rendered – from within and by others – in the past and it may in future. We cannot stop “drawing casteist lines” until social reality re-orients itself with the ideology in pursuit.

The Social Brahmin

Who is a Brahmin? If I were to present an apologetic/defensive case, I would probably cite verses from the Gita or numerous other scriptures. I might even use a carefully concocted narrative that makes it all seem perfectly reasonable – as in Cho’s Enge Brahamanan. But a moral hierarchy is inherently problematic for any academic, whether he/she is a Marxist or a post modernist. The existentialist quest to be the “superior” – irrespective of the means and accessibility to the said quest – is of negligible importance.

What is important is the status of the social Brahmin (just like the social Hindu). Cho Ramaswamy, for instance, has often said that he is not a Brahmin because he doesn’t possess the “superior” qualities of one. I have seen many bloggers and other "internet individuals" take a similar stance. Quite ironically though, they have also mentioned “I’m a Brahmin by birth” elsewhere. Regardless of what their stance is, the priest in a temple would probably not recall Cho’s theoretical distancing from a Brahmin; and my light skinned friend is likely to get a better reception when he steps into an Alwarpet music store than I would.

These are only relatively subtle elements that elevate the social Brahmin. A theoretically rigorous and academic approach would delineate several factors – disputing the myths of cultural and racial superiority – that contribute to ‘the Brahmin success story’. It would be redundant for me to argue why there are more Brahmins in the elite educational institutions of India or why there is a disproportionate number of Brahmins abroad. So I can never sympathize, at least not as seriously, with a Brahmin who claims to be a social victim of some kind.

The "Excess"

Power and exploitation become central to any ideology if it can lend enough credence to its chastity. Brahminism, as an ideology that propagates rigid, hierarchical structures based on piety, vocation and its modern variants, is at the core of the caste system. It has been appropriated and re-asserted by several castes over several hundred years – the prominent ones being Gounder, Thevar, Chettiyar and lately Vanniyar. It may seem as if scholars, mainstream writers and bloggers ‘attack’ Brahmins more than other castes. But their ubiquitous presence in various media, quite ironically, is the very reason for the seemingly excessive criticism. There are more members from the Brahmin community defending some form of Brahminism in written media – mainstream or otherwise – than any other. Among all the upper castes it’s the Brahmins, at least in my observation, who are the least invisible in urban areas.

Frankly, I do not see any reason to tone down the criticism of someone who has the insolence to claim an essentialist, oppressive identity in public space – be it Brahmins or other upper-castes. What we need is not a reduction in censuring Brahmins, but increase in including Gounders, Thevars and Vanniyars. For the latter hold Brahminism not only in principle but execute it with utmost vengeance. The treatment of these castes in media like cinema – especially in movies like Chinna Gounder, Thevar Magan etc. – is reflective of the appalling insensibility that Tamils as a society have engendered.

If anyone is outraged by what’s been said so far because he/she belongs to a particular caste, he/she should ask himself/herself, “why do I care?”

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[1] – Contrast the protestors, dressed in trek shoes and jeans, against the quota system with Dalits in tattered clothes protesting for basic human rights. The state’s indifference to either of them is a different issue in itself.

[2] - Upper in upper caste cannot be put in quotes because we are referring to a system in which hierarchy is intrinsic. To argue that all castes are equal -- by using quotes -- is flawed considering what constitutes caste.