Articles

Moments in a History of Reservations 

BHAGWAN DAS

Though the subject of reservations has figured prominently in public debates ever since the recommendations of the Mandal Commission Report were sought to be implemented in 1991, there has been very little discussion by the beneficiaries of reservations. This paper looks at some of the more significant historical, constitutional and legal moments in the evolution of a reservations policy in India.

Brahmins in the Madras presidency and the Bhadralok in the Bengal presidency took advantage of the new educational policy and the central place of the English language within it and occupied most of the posts available in the administration. Brahmins in Madras comprising barely 3 per cent of the total population occupied more than 80 per cent of the posts. In the princely state of My sore the Tamil brahmins monopolised all the jobs. Kannadiga brahmins had a very small share in public services. The maharaja of Mysore was well advised by his ministers and the resident and some reforms were introduced with a view to giving a larger share to the Kannadiga brahmins, vokkalligas and lingayats beside the untouchable castes and the Muslims.  Reservations were thus introduced in 1918 in favour of a number of castes and communities that had little share in the administration.

The subject of reservations is a vast one. Even in terms of a historical account of reservations in India, it would be impossible to cover most of its aspects in the space of one paper. This article, therefore, provides brief entrypoints into some of the more significant historical and legal moments concerning the development of a reservations policy in India, all of which require much more attention and analysis.

A great deal has been written against reservations policies since the acceptance of the Mandal Commission Report in 1991 in favour of reservations in higher education and government services for the other backward classes of India. Very little has been written by the beneficiaries of reservations, whetherin book form orin the form of articles in the national press. Those who are vociferous and loud in their criticism of reservations invariably belong to the dominant groups, who have been enjoying the benefits of, if not a monopoly over, education, wealth, land and public services. On the other hand, the worst victims of the condemnation, persecution and exploitation of contemporary society have been the shudras, dalits (untouchables, unseeables and unapproachables) and women.

There is a difference between the bird's point of view and the worm's point of view. There are many scholars and intellectuals in India whose vision get easily stigmatised by phrases and slogans borrowed from the west and other lands. Writers belonging to the Hindu upper castes - not Muslims, Christians or Buddhists - have often asserted that it was the British who introduced the policy of 'Divide and Rule' into India. The phrase 'divide and rule' was in fact originally deployed by the dominating classes of Rome who conquered a large portion of the world and had to devise ways and means to maintain their empire and supremacy. But if we seriously and earnestly study the history of man, the principle of divide and rule was really devised by the brahmins in India who framed laws and rules in the name of Dhamma and Brahma to divide society vertically and horizontally and exploit large numbers of people - poor, deprived, ignorant and divided - so that a few on top may continue to enjoy the good things of life - power, prestige, priviledges. Reservations were not introduced, as some Hindu writers have asserted, so that the British could 'divide and rule' Indians.

The reservation or quota system was introduced in Malta before it was even mentioned in India. Yugoslavia had five nationalities and six linguistic groups. Power had to be shared and a kind of quota system was established to keep the country united. Americans, whether they admit it or not, were influenced by the Indian experiment and 'affirmative action' was introduced in the 1960s with a view to giving a share to the discrimination - African - Americans, N ati ve Americans and other ethnic minorities. Other countries of Europe and America including Great Britain are now thinking along the lines of some reservation or affirmative action for ethnic and other minorities who are victims of discrimination by the dominating groups. In the Indian context, reservations were introduced during the last decades of the 19th century at a time when the subcontinent could be broadly divided according to two main forms of governance - British India and the 600 princely states. Some of these princely states were progressive and eager to modernise through the promotion of education and industry; and by maintaining unity among their own people. Mysore in south India and Baroda and Kolhapur in western India took considerable interest in the awakening and advancement of the minorities and deprived sections of society. It should not surprise us then that the very first records of implementingreservations policies are from these princely states

British India was facing problems right from the 18th century when Lord Cornwallis took over as governor general in 1786. The East India Company was reeking with corruption. Administrators often find scapegoats and Cornwallis was no exception: He blamed the Indians for maladministration and inefficiency which resulted in large losses of revenue. Cornwallis introduced certain reforms and closed the doors to employment for the Indians, except in the lower ranks of administration. Scions of the upper castes and affluent families turned to other professions, especially the profession of law.

Another event which affected Indians in the services was the introduction of English as the official language by Lord Macaulay. It was decided in the council with Lord Macaulay as law minister that while Madrassas and Sanskrit schools would be allowed to function, official business was to be conducted in English. "The cause of English was still further advanced by the regulation introduced by the first Lord Hardinge that all public services were to be filled by an open competition examination held by the Council (the successor of the Committee of Public Instruction), preference being given to the knowledge of English. Virtually, English education was made the only passport to higher appointments available to the Indians, and hence its popularity and rapid progress were equally assured" (Mazumdar, An Advanced History of India:818). While the benefits of English education were reaped by members of affluent and newly emerging middle class people, the masses remained ignorant and backward.

Brahmins in the Madras presidency and the Bhadralok in the Bengal presidency took advantage of the new educational policy and the central place of the English language within it and occupied most of the posts available in the administration. Brahmins in Madras comprising barely 3 per cent of the total population occupied more than 80 per cent of the posts. In the princely state of My sore the Tamil brahmins monopolised all the jobs. Kannadiga brahmins had a very small share in public services. The maharaj aofM ysore was well advised by his ministers and the resident and some reforms were introduced with a view to giving a larger share to the Kannadiga brahmins, vokkalligas and lingayats beside the untouchable castes and the Muslims. Reservations were thus introduced in 1918 in favour of a number of castes and communities that had little share in the administration.

The introduction of English as the official language antagonised the Muslims, who perhaps unwisely decided not to learn the language of the infidels. It was through the efforts of the famous Muslim leader Syed Ahmed Khan that education was given prominence and schools opened. As the largest religious minority, Muslims had a grievance that they had very little share in the administration of the country. The British had also changed their attitude towards them. Upper caste Hindus, on the other hand, were taking advantage of the educational facilities provided by the British as well as the Christian missionaries and were organising and agitating for political power. They had a large share in the bureaucracy.

Muslims, however, appreciated the importance of political and administrative power. A delegation of Muslim nawabs, landlords, and prominent persons led Agha Khan, leader of the Ismaili Sect, waited upon the viceroy and presented a memorandum demanding a share in the administration in proportion to their population. The viceroy gave it sympathetic consideration and provisions were made in the government of India Acts of 1909 and 1919 granting the Muslims due share and other facilities.

The untouchables - or the depressed classes as they were then called - had joined the presidency armies and fought battles under the command of British officers. They had contributed a great deal towards the creation of the British empire. In the army, untouchable soldiers got their first opportunity to learn to read and write and were also exposed to new ideas. Untouchables also worked as camp-followers and domestic servants - as cooks, butlers, bearers, sweepers, gardeners, 'ayahs' and so on - for British families in their cantonments. The brahminisation of the Bengal Army led to mutinies and also to a reduction of soldiers of untouchable origin in the Bengal army. They however, continued to be enlisted in the presidency armies of Bombay and Madras. The British changed their recruitment policies according to their political needs. Christian missionaries contributed a great deal towards awakening the untouchables and promoting literacy, in spite of discouragement by the British officers, many of whom thought that missionary work was a nuisance. Some of them changed their attitude later on Ibbetson, the famous Census Commissioner, wrote "untouchables are politically not important". This was because they were asking for concessions and facilities for their upliftment and had not organised themselves as a political force. It was only with the arrival of Ambedkar that they acquired a leader of stature and education who could also make a political difference.

Provisions of Communal Award
Mahatma Gandhi saw a danger to hinduism in these specific provisions of the communal award in favour of the most deprived and disadvantaged sections of society and threatened to go on a fast unto death. The question of reservations was also discussed in the round table conferences and provisions were made in the Communal Award of 1935 in spite of opposition by Mahatma Gandhi. Seats were reserved in the legislature in favour of Mohammedans, Sikhs, Marathas, Europeans, Parsis, Anglo Indians, and Christians. As regards the depressed classes the following provision was made:

It is intended that these constituencies should be formed in selected areas where the depressed classes are most numerous, and that, except in Madras, they should not cover the whole area of the province.

Members of the 'depressed classes' qualified to vote will vote in a general constituency. In view of the fact that for a considerable period these classes would be unlikely by this means alone, to secure any adequate representation in the legislature, a number of special seats will be filled by election from special constituencies in which only members of the 'depressed classes' e1ectorally qualified will be entitled to vote. Any person voting in such a special constituency will, as stated above be also entitled to vote in a general constituency

Under this pressure an agreement was signed between the Hindu leaders and the leaders of the depressed classes to save the life of Mahatma Gandhi. This agreement is known as the Poona Pact, and its provisions included the following:
(1) There shall be seats reserved for the depressed classes out of the general electorate seats in the Provincial Legislatures as in Table.

Madras
30
Bombay with Sind
     15
Punjab
8
Bihar and Orissa
18
Central Provinces
20
Assam
7
Bengal
30
United Provinces
20
Total
148


(2) Election to these seats shall be by joint electorates, subject however, to the following procedures:
All members of the depressed classes, registered in the general electoral roll in a constituency will form an electoral college, which will elect a panel of four candidates belonging to the depressed classes for each such reserved seat, by the method of the single vote; the four persons getting the highest number of votes in such primary election shall be candidates for election by the general electorate.

(3) Representation of the depressed classes in the central legislature shall likewise be on the principle of joint electorates and reserved seats by the method of primary elections in the manner prescribed for in Clause 2 above, for their representation in the provincial legislature.

As regards the share in the administration, the following provisions were made in the Poona Pact:
There shall be no disabilities attaching to anyone on the ground of his being a member of the depressed classes in regard to any election to local bodies, or appointment to the public services. Every endeavour shall be made to secure fair representation of the depressed classes in these respects subject to such educational qualifications as may be laid down for appointment to the public services.

As against the 78 seats allotted to the depressed classes in the state legislature, the Poona Pact gave 148 seats. However, untouchables lost the right to elect their own representatives and this right was transferred to the Hindus. The result was that those who were elected remained faithful to the parties and leaders who adopted them as candidates and funded their elections.

The Poona Pact had far reaching effects and obstructed their progress in other fields also. The government issued orders regarding reservation in services vide resolution No F l4117-B 33 dated July 4, 1934 (Gazette of India, part I, July 7, 1934). Reservation in public services was provided for all minorities excepting the depressed classes:

In regard to the depressed classes it is common ground that all reasonable steps should be taken to secure for them a fair degree of representation in the public services. The intention of the caste Hindus in this respect was formally stated in the Poona Agreement of 1932 and His Majesty's government in accepting that agreement took due note of this point. In the present state of general education in these classes, the government of India considers that no useful purpose will be served by reserving for them a definite percentage of vacancies out of the number available for Hindus as a whole, but they hope to ensure that duly qualified candidates from the depressed classes are not deprived of their opportunities of appointment merely because they cannot succeed in open competition.

Ambedkar was appointed member of the Viceroy's Executive Council and he submitted a memorandum 'On the Grievances of the Scheduled Castes' detailing their grievances, and also demanding reservation in public services, scholarships and stipends for study within the country and abroad, a share in contracts, and so on. This was duly recommended by the viceroy and referred to the secretary of state, who accepted the recommendations. The scheduled castes were allowed 8.5 per cent reservation in central services and other facilities for the first time in the history of India in 1942.

As already mentioned earlier, under pressure from upper caste Hindus and also for political reasons the doors of the armed forces were closed to the untouchables in the early decades of the 20th century. However, the British needed more mercenary soldiers during the second world war. People were therefore liberally enlisted in the Air Force, Navy and Army besides in units such as Supply Corps, Engineering Units, Civil Pioneer Force and so on.

After the transfer of power in 1947, a drafting committee with Ambedkar as chairman was set up to draft the constitution of India. Some members of the constituent assembly were opposed to the provision of reservations in favour of the scheduled castes. Scheduled castes members, mostly belonging to the Congress, were worried about losing reservation because Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, president of the minority committee, was opposed to reservation. They approached Ambedkar, who in turn advised them to speak to Mahatma Gandhi, and remind him about the promise made in the Poona Pact. Provision was made in the constitution of India for reservation in the legislature for 10 years ending in 1960. This has recently been extended up to 2010. Provision was also made for reservation in public services. This has no time limit. Surprisingly, prime ministers, political leaders and journalists have been making speeches and writing articles giving the impression that it is reservations in public services which have been extended for ten years. Reservations made under Article 335 read together with Article 46 has no time limit prescribed under the constitution. Reservation was also made in favour of Anglo Indians for a shorter period in view of the difficulties and disabilities peculiar to them.

II Constitutional Provisions
Article 46 contains the provisions regarding the interests of the weaker sections of society The state shall promote with special care the education and economic interests of the weaker sections of the people, and, in particular of the scheduled castes and the scheduled tribes, and shall protect them from social injustice and all forms of exploitation.


Who is a member of the scheduled castes and scheduled tribes has been defined under Article 366 of the Constitution Art 366(24) 'scheduled castes' means such castes, races or tribes or parts of or groups in such castes, races or tribes as are deemed under article 341 to be scheduled castes for the purposes of this Constitution. (25) 'Scheduled Tribes' means such tribes or tribal communities or parts or groups within such tribal communities as are deemed  under Article 342 to be the scheduled tribes for the purposes of the Constitution.

Initially, only members of the scheduled castes professing Hinduism and four castes among the Sikhs (Kabirpanthis, Ramdassias, Sikligars and Mazhbis) were included in the list in accord with the provision made in the scheduled castes order appended to the Constitution. In 1956 it was extended to include all scheduled castes professing Sikhism.

Ambedkar revived Buddhism and started mass conversion to Buddhism in October 1956. The government of India issued orders declaring them ineligible to any of the concessions admissible to scheduled castes. In 1990 scheduled castes professing Buddhism were also included among the scheduled castes.

There is no such restriction with regard to the people belonging to the scheduled tribes who return themselves as animists, Hindus, Christians or Buddhists. Article 14 guarantees equality: "The state shall not deny to any person equality before the law or the equal protection of the laws within the territory of India. Article 15 concerns discrimination against any citizen on grounds of religion, race, caste, sex, place of birth or any of them. Article 16 (1) guarantees equality of opportunity in matters of public employment etc.

Reservations in public services and educational institutions were created with a view to giving a share to the members of society who had been denied opportunities in the past. This naturally antagonised those sections of society who had been enjoying the monopoly of power. Immediately after the adoption of the constitution, the provision of reservation under Article 16 was challenged through a writ petition filed in the Madras High Court (State of Madras vs Champakam Dorairajan, April 1951). The case came before the Supreme Court of India. It was held that the communal government order of the Madras government fixing the proportion of students of each community that could be admitted to state educational institutions was ultra vires under Article 29(2) (which states that no citizen shall be denied admission into any educational institution maintained by or receiving aid from the state on grounds only of religion, race, caste, or language) and was not saved by the provisions of Article 16. There was considerable protest in the southern states as the result of which the Constitution was amended for the first time, and Clause 15(4) added Article 15(4): nothing in this article or in Clause (2) of Article 29 shall prevent the state from making any special provision for the advancement of any socially and educationally backward classes of citizens or for the scheduled castes and scheduled tribes.

Those who are opposed to reservations in public services have challenged all orders issued by the government under Article 15(1) or under Article 16. Article 226 (on the enforcement of fundamental rights by a High Court) or Article 32 (concerning moving fundamental rights before the Supreme Court) are invoked and writ petitions are filed before the High Court. Sometimes the government comes before the Supreme Court, and sometimes it is the petitioners, if they feel aggrieved, who do so. Judicial process has routinely and effectively been used to obstruct the progress or to delay the implementation of reservation orders.

Post-independence India has witnessed many landmark cases which have affected the administration as well as interests of the scheduled castes, scheduled tribes and other backward classes. In the famous case of Balaji versus Mysore state in 1962, reservation orders were challenged on the grounds that the lists of backward classes were prepared only on the basis of caste and that this was unconstitutional. The Supreme Court struck down the Mysore Backward classes list. Similar claims were again taken up in the Chitralekha case (Chitralekha vs state of Mysore, 1964). In this case, the Supreme Court interpreted the Balaji case somewhat differently. It was pointed out that two principles were prominent from the observations inBalaji' s case namely (1) 'the caste of a group of citizens may be a relevant circumstance in ascertaining their social backwardness' and (2) though it is a relevant factor to determine the social backwardness of a class of citizens, 'it cannot be the sole or dominant test'. In another landmark case, namely, Jayasree versus state of Kerala (1976), the Supreme Court accepted the logic of the Kerala High Court that economic backwardness plays a part in social and educational backwardness. In the Thomas case (State of Kerala versus N H Thomas, 1976) the Supreme Court upheld caste based reservation. The Supreme Court also observed that the aim of the Constitution is to eliminate caste from the affairs of the state. Yet certain backward castes have to be recognised and classified for compensatory measures so that caste can be abolished ultimately.

The implementation of the recommendations of the Mandal Commission was challenged and opposed not only by angry students belonging to the Hindu upper castes, but also by the Supreme Court bar association. A writ petition was filed in the name of Indira Sawhney, one of the practising advocates of the Supreme Court.

Even though the rights of scheduled castes had nothing to do with the subject of the OBCs of the Mandal commission report, certain items affecting them were included as issues. Justice Ahmedi raised an objection and did not comment on the issues during the proceedings. The promotion of scheduled castes was discussed and the Supreme Court held that there should be no reservations in promotion. In spite of all the opposition to Mandal, reservations in favour of the other backward classes to the extent of 27 per cent was upheld and the agitationists were disappointed.

Besides these there are landmark cases like the Rangachari case (Rangachari vs General Manager, 1962), Devadasan case (Devadasan vs Union of India, 1964; which was ruled out in the Indira Sawhney case), Hira Lal case, and the recently decided PGIMS Chandigarh Case (reservation in medical colleges) and Ajit Singh Janjua case (seniority in promotion case) which have adversely affected the interests of the scheduled castes and scheduled tribes.

Reservations were originally provided for the scheduled castes and scheduled tribes. It was extended to the other backward classes at the national level in 1993. Several states have passed their own laws and granted reservations to backward sections of society. It was held by the Supreme Court of India that reservations can be made under an executive order. However, in view of the recent judgments of the Supreme Court affecting the scheduled castes which have stirred the minds of the scheduled castes and scheduled tribes, the government is under pressure to enact a law so that the judiciary may not decide against the deprived and disadvantaged sections of society.

Besides the scheduled castes, scheduled tribes and other backward classes, Christians of dalit origin and backward sections of Muslim society are also staking their claim for a share in governance. After independence and the creation of Pakistan, Muslims have not been able to enter public services. There is a genuine need to make provisions in order to make the bureaucracy more representative. Women who comprise about 49-50 per cent of population also deserve consideration for reservation - and not only in the legislature but also in the bureaucracy.

As in the days of old when some people raised the various cries, 'religion in danger', 'dharma is in danger' or 'Islam is in danger' ,nowadays a new slogan is being raised: "abolish reservations because merit and efficiency are in danger". This is often heard in the Supreme Court also. Those who have been opposing reservations in public services and educational institutions do so because their personal interests are in jeopardy. Those who made the provisions in the Constitution had the interest of the nation in view. If more and more people take partin decision making - which also means in the execution and implementation of these decisions taken in a democratic manner - the country will benefit. Those who want to maintain the status quo and consider their personal interests above the national interest, oppose reservations. Dominating groups who have been enjoying a monopoly of power are also notorious for corrupt practices. Be it said to our shame that our country's name appears among the first four most corrupt countries of the world. One wishes this pernicious development had also attracted the attention
of the patriots and champions of merit.


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Giving Dalits Their Due


Two draft Bills on the Tribal Sub-Plan and the Scheduled Caste Sub-Plan raise hopes of granting these decades-old schemes statutory status and ensuring allocation of funds in the Central and State budgets for their implementation. By AJOY ASHIRWAD MAHAPRASHASTA


IN a significant legislative move, the Union government’s Ministry of Tribal Affairs released a draft Bill for the implementation of the long-neglected Tribal Sub-Plan (TSP), a special programme mandated by the Planning Commission to benefit the Scheduled Tribes. The Bill, which was released in the end of November 2013, will complement the Bill on the Scheduled Castes Sub-Plan (SCSP) released in June 2013. Both Bills recommend statutory status for these programmes and are an important step forward in making them stronger. They also recommend institutionalisation of accountability mechanisms in case of non-implementation of these programmes.

The SCSP, drafted by former Indian Administrative Service officer and prominent civil rights activist P.S. Krishnan in 1978, requires the Central and State governments to allocate budget funds for Dalits in proportion to their number in the population so as to enhance the flow of development benefits to them. It would entail earmarking 16.2 per cent of the total Plan outlay in the Union Budget for the Scheduled Castes, whose population was pegged around that figure in Census 2001. Similarly, the TSP mandates governments to earmark for the Scheduled Tribes 8.2 per cent of the total Plan outlay.

The Union and State governments have shown little interest in the implementation of these programmes. However, advocacy demanding proper implementation of the two sub-plans has gathered steam in the last 15 years. Leaders of some advocacy groups allege that governments have colluded with the dominant castes to prevent the implementation of these programmes. The activists, therefore, see the Bills as a shot in the arm for their cause.

As many as 151 Dalit and Adivasi groups from 22 States gathered in New Delhi in December and during the month met all-party delegations and political leaders separately. Land rights for Dalits and Adivasis, under the SCSP and the TSP, have been the main demand of these groups. On December 10, International Human Rights Day, thousands of Dalits and Adivasis protested in New Delhi to claim land rights for poor, landless Dalit and tribal families through land distribution for housing and agriculture. Addressing the rally, many Dalit leaders demanded that the provision should be included in the SCSP and the TSP. Following this, Congress leader Jairam Ramesh assured the activists that the Bills would be presented to the Union Cabinet so that they could be introduced in Parliament in subsequent sessions.

The SCSP (earlier known as Special Component Plan, or SCP) was introduced by the Planning Commission in 1979 and the TSP in 1974 as special programmes with the stated objective of bridging the development gap between the general population and the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes. They were intended to deliver direct benefits to Dalits and Adivasis because the universal social and economic welfare programmes of the Planning Commission remained inadequate for these populations.

Objectives of the plans
The plans were conceptualised with three objectives. One, funds under the SCSP and the TSP in various Ministries should directly benefit Dalit and Adivasi individuals; individual scholarships for education, housing facilities, employment opportunities, and so on, should be made available. Two, funds should be utilised to improve the conditions of Dalit and Adivasi families so that their access to the mainstream economy and social welfare programmes increases. This would include providing houses and cheap loans, creating employment opportunities and encouraging entrepreneurship. Three, funds under these programmes should be channelled towards special developmental work involving the building of schools and infrastructure required for the supply of drinking water and the extension of the public distribution scheme to bastis (hamlets) where Dalits and Adivasis constitute more than 40 per cent of the population. The overall vision was to create an enabling environment for greater participation of Dalits and Adivasis in the mainstream economy and society.

The Sixth Five Year Plan (1980-85) was the first Plan that gave due emphasis to the development of the S.Cs in terms of the Special Component Plan. Among the strategies adopted in this Plan were special Central assistance to the Special Component Plan and Scheduled Castes development corporations in the States. All the subsequent Five Year Plans emphasised these programmes. However, despite their existence for the last 30-odd years, governments have either chosen not to allocate funds under the SCSP and the TSP or diverted the funds towards other generic development work.

Nature of non-implementation
There are four different ways in which governments have been evasive in allocating funds under the SCSP and the TSP. In the preparation of the Union Budget, the Department of Economic Affairs under the Finance Ministry asks the Planning Commission to chart out expenditure for the financial year on the basis of the taxes collected. The Planning Commission, in turn, asks various Ministries to send proposals of their budget expenditure. The Ministries should, ideally, list out separate expenditure under the SCSP and the TSP, along with their general plan of expenditure. However, over the years the Ministries have not included SCSP and TSP funds in their proposals. Therefore, the Planning Commission has had to allocate funds under these schemes only after the Budget is approved. Government documents revealed that many Ministries never allocated funds under the SCSP and the TSP. This is the first and the most blatant violation of the schemes.

Secondly, most Ministries have flouted the norms of the schemes even while they have set aside funds for the S.Cs and the S.Ts. They have under-allocated SCSP and TSP funds. Said Paul Divakar of the Delhi-based Dalit Arthik Adhikar Andolan (DAAA):

“The analysis of the last five years’ Budget indicates that the SCSP has never received allocation beyond 8.1 per cent [of the total], which ideally should be 16 per cent. Similarly, of the total budget, 8 per cent should be allocated for the TSP, but the allocation is only around 4.5 per cent.

“For example, in the last five years the Ministry for Human Resource Development has received Rs.18,896.41 crore under the SCSP/TSP, which is comparatively more than what other Ministries have got. However, only 5 per cent of this is spent on scholarships for Dalit-Adivasi students. The rest of the money is spent under the head of ‘general allocation and asset building’. For instance, in 2011-12, the UGC [University Grants Commission] spent only Rs.63.36 crore on educational schemes for Dalit students out of Rs.780 crore allocated from the SCP.”

Thirdly, the actual expenditure is much less than even the under-allocated amounts for these sub-plans. Ministries declare a particular amount to be spent for the S.Cs and the S.Ts. However, the actual expenditure, which is declared only after two years of such an announcement, shows that the money was not spent at all or spent only partially. Again, most of the funds under the SCSP and the TSP are spent on general programmes. For example, the Department of Agriculture spends a substantial sum on the National Food Security Mission, but a substantial chunk of that amount is shown to be spent under the SCSP and the TSP, conveniently forgetting the point that the two sub-plans were introduced only because universal programmes could not adequately improve the social and economic stigma attached to the S.Cs and the S.Ts. For instance, Rs.400 crore from the National Food Security Mission’s total budget in 2013-14 was shown as money spent on the SCSP. Similarly, substantial amounts spent under health and rural development programmes, the Sarva Sikhsha Abhiyaan and other such programmes were shown under the SCSP and the TSP.

Fourthly, the amounts declared under the sub-plans are also used for purposes that have no direct impact on Dalits and Adivasis. This, DAAA activists say, is a gross diversion of SCSP and TSP funds. For example, the money is spent on building flyovers and highways. The Delhi government, they alleged, diverted Rs.744 crore towards the Commonwealth Games in Delhi. In Odisha, in 2011-12, around Rs.30 crore was spent on the construction of jails, shelters for paramilitary forces, and courts.

Said Paul Divakar: “Out of the Rs.26,328 crore and Rs.9,765 crore declared for the SCSP and the TSP in the Union Budget of 2013-14, 71.59 per cent has been allocated either notionally or to general schemes. Of the money allocated for the TSP, Rs.500 crore was set apart for the construction of highways. From the allocation for the SCSP in 2011-12 and 2012-13, Rs. 64.50 crore was used for animal injections.”

The maximum allocation under the SCSP and the TSP, over the last 30 years, has come from the Ministry of Tribal Affairs and the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment. This does not serve the actual purpose of the SCSP and the TSP. These schemes were meant to help the S.Cs and the S.Ts to come out of their traditional occupations, mostly considered lowly and meant to serve the upper castes. Most of these funds were given in the leather industry, for weavers, and for improvement of scavenging conditions. “Does the spending mean that Dalits and Adivasis continue to be good cobblers and good butlers?” asked Divakar.

Most of the other Ministries say it is difficult to set aside funds for the S.Cs and the S.Ts for schemes that will directly impact them. However, the DAAA wants Ministries to come up with innovative ideas to empower Dalit and Adivasi individuals. To look into gross violations in the use of sub-plan funds, the Planning Commission set up the Narendra Jadhav task force in 2010. It pointed out that all Ministries in the Union and State governments fell far short in the implementation of the SCSP and the TSP and reminded them that earmarking of funds for the sub-plans was mandatory.

The Planning Commission has asked all Ministries to set aside SCSP and TSP funds in the proposal stage itself before the Budget. It has categorised Ministries into four groups. The first category has no obligation to earmark funds because of difficulty in quantifying the benefit to the S.Cs and the S.Ts. The other three categories have to allocate funds to the SCSP and the TSP on the basis of their roles in the development, survival, participation and protection of Dalits and Adivasis.

Even after these recommendations, most of the allocations have been oriented towards the survival aspect of Dalits and Adivasis and a minuscule percentage has been channelled towards their development, upward mobility and participation.

Dalit and Adivasi groups had, therefore, demanded legislation that would have these provisions. In January 2013, Andhra Pradesh promulgated the “Andhra Pradesh Scheduled Castes Sub-Plan and Tribal Sub-Plan (Planning, Allocation and Utilisation of Financial resources) Act. The State government incorporated in it most of the recommendations made by the task force it set up for the purpose in 2012.

The lack of accountability is seen as the main reason why governments could bypass the sub-plans all these years. “A nodal authority with independent functioning would mandate Ministries to send detailed proposals to spend on the SCSP and the TSP before every budget. It would also facilitate it with innovative ideas to spend the funds based on the needs and demands of the S.C. and S.T. populations. Overall, it would ensure accountability and participation and help Dalits and Adivasis to claim these entitlements as rights,” said Mallepalli Lakshmaiah, a member of Hyderabad-based Centre for Dalit Studies.

If the two draft Bills see the light of day in Parliament, it would meet four important demands of Dalit activists. First, the constitution of a development council comprising ex-officio and nominated members for the purpose of planning, allocation and utilisation of budgets; second, the creation of a nodal agency at the appropriate level to make governments accountable; third, the earmarking of funds under the SCSP at least six months before the financial year and only towards schemes which have “direct and quantifiable” benefits to S.C. individuals, households or habitations; and fourth, consultation with the “primary stakeholders” before deciding the expenditure under these programmes.

While the Bills address most of the concerns, they still do not make the SCSP and TSP funds “non-lapsable and non-divertible”. A long-time demand of a prescribed penalty in case of non-implementation also does not figure in the Bills. Activists fear that government agencies could exploit these loopholes to prevent the proper implementation of the SCSP and the TSP. Considering the poor history of implementation, these concerns are justified. Despite such doubts, the two Bills are undoubtedly a significant step forward in ensuring social justice and equity in India.

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The scales are so tilted
By : Harsh Mander

Indian democracy is dishonoured from time to time by brutal massacres of the country’s historically oppressed communities — mostly Dalits and Muslims. But its even greater disgrace is that mass killers who periodically target people only because of their religion or caste are rarely punished. This legal impunity of mass murderers indulging in hate crimes derives from deep institutional prejudice, which scars India’s otherwise independent judicial system.

It is for this reason that the April judgment of the Andhra Pradesh high court — ignored in the heat and dust of the elections — which acquitted all 21 men who were serving life sentences for the massacre of Dalits in Tsundur, should have shocked and grieved observers much more than it did.

In 1991, a minor altercation in a cinema hall had spiralled into a terrifying massacre. A high-caste Reddy man was enraged when a Dalit college student Ravi rested his feet on his seat. In reprisal for his impudence, Ravi was first attacked in his village Tsundur, then charged with theft and arrested. Following this, the upper-caste community fell back on old weapons commonly deployed by higher castes through the ages to subdue disadvantaged communities: An economic boycott was imposed to break their back, as upper-caste farmers refused to employ the landless Dalits as farm labour or tenants.

Emotions were then further ignited by widely circulating a false charge against a Dalit youth, that he was sexually harassing local Reddy girls. (This allegation is chillingly similar to the one made 22 years later in Muzaffarnagar, which again was later proved false, but which similarly led to a violent reprisal against local Muslims.) A fever of mass rage gripped the surrounding countryside, and this led to the well-planned attack on the Dalits. As they desperately tried to flee the village they found it surrounded on every side by Reddy men in tractors armed with daggers and iron rods. They were brutally assaulted, and many mutilated bodies were flung into the Tungabhadra canal. This caste slaughter left eight men dead and three badly injured.

What followed was a rare judicial victory heroically won after many years of struggle by the Dalit survivors of Tsundur village, who braved boycott, violence, and social and state intimidation in an epic battle for justice. Determined that the perpetrators of these atrocities should not go unpunished, as they always had in the past, as Subash Gatade recalls in an article in ‘Kafila’, the survivors refused to accept court summons or to appear in court until the government agreed to appoint a special court to hear the case and, for the first time, to conduct the special court in their village. They also demanded and ultimately secured both a public prosecutor and judge with reputations for fairness.

Typically these cases drag on for years, and witnesses and survivors are wearied and coerced into rescinding on their statements. But not in Tsundur, where they did not allow their poverty and centuries of social oppression to break their resolve, resisting powerful attempts to buy their submission with threats, money and jobs, and raising the slogan ‘justice not welfare’. Young Dalit men abandoned their education and refused to marry until justice was won for the survivors of the butchery. Gatade recalls many people who stood tall for justice. Merukonda Subbarao, a daily wage worker became a local hero after he identified and named 40 of the accused in the court room from among the 183 accused. It took great courage for him to resolutely identify powerful men in court who earlier he could never even walk alongside or look in the eye.

But their epic resistance and success in securing justice from a criminal justice system infamous for its anti-Dalit bias has been today reduced to nothing. More than two decades after the crime, the Andhra Pradesh High Court ordered that 21 men serving life sentences for the massacre walk free (and one of them even joined Jagan Reddy’s election campaign).

The high court ruled that “the prosecution failed to prove the exact time of the death of the deceased and place of occurrence and the identity of the persons who attacked them”. It found further fault with the prosecution, because no complaint had been filed about the attacks, and the judges rejected the witness statements because of “contradictions”.

In so doing, the high court ignored the formidable challenges of fear and loss faced by survivors of caste and communal mass crimes when confronting an openly partisan police system. The Tsundur Special Court, which severely indicted the police for its anti-Dalit bias, rightly acknowledged that a defective investigation could “naturally” lead to “contradictions and omissions” from prosecution witnesses. Therefore it accepted a certain amount of omissions in witness statements, rightly noting, “Every omission is not a contradiction.” Indeed the Supreme Court in many rulings has held that it is unreasonable and unjust to expect the same standards of evidence in mass crimes as in regular individual crimes, because of embedded institutional bias.

The rejection of the veracity of the statements which the Dalit survivors courageously made in open courts, battling violence, intimidation and boycott, is therefore a grave setback to the greater idea of justice. It was unjust for the judges of the Andhra Pradesh High Court to close their eyes to the larger context of economic and social violence and power imposed by caste superiority and ownership of large land holdings in rural India, and the close nexus of rich upper-caste landed communities with the police and ruling establishment.

The survivors of the Tsundur massacre chose to fight the injustice and bloodbath to which they were subject not by picking up arms and joining the Maoist rebellion, which already has struck deep root in the surrounding countryside. Instead they rightly placed their faith in the ponderous processes of a democratic state and its criminal justice system. But by letting them down so profoundly, India’s superior courts have fuelled further the despair that is gripping segments of young Dalit, tribal and Muslim men and women, confirming to them once again that justice and security is hard to secure for historically oppressed people in India’s republic.  

This is the agonising reality of oppressed communities that we collectively must reverse.    

Harsh Mander is Director, Centre for Equity Studies


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Caste and the Power Elite in Allahabad: 

http://www.epw.in/special-articles/caste-and-power-elite-allahabad.html

Introduction 

Moving from Delhi to Allahabad, as each of us has done at different points of time, is an enlightening as well as unsettling experience. Delhi looks (deceptively) like a melting pot of sorts, where people of all regions, castes and communities of India live and work. The caste composition of the population, in particular, is quite diverse and tends to get a little blurred in the immense variety of surnames. In some circles, like the university where we used to hang out, one is not supposed to talk about caste or show any awareness of it. The hold of caste on social life is not as glaring, brutal and pervasive as it would be in a village or small town. In Allahabad, things are a little different. It does not take very long to notice that public institutions tend to be dominated by people (mainly men) with conspicuous north Indian upper-caste surnames such as Sharma, Tripathi or Srivastava. As familiarity with local caste names grows, the caste-based compartmentalisation of the society comes into fuller view, like a blurred image that becomes clearer as the lens is adjusted. For better or worse, one becomes more caste conscious. Of course, this situation actually applies to a large extent in Delhi as well, as would be obvious to many Dalit observers. It is just more glaring in Allahabad. The relatively transparent caste structure in Allahabad also makes it possible to examine the caste composition of public institutions in a more systematic fashion. That is the purpose of this article.

Before we proceed, a word of caution is due. The findings presented in this paper are based on guessing caste from surnames. As discussed below, this approach (already used with good effect in earlier studies) seems reliable enough for the purpose of identifying broad patterns, but it also involves a significant margin of error. One of the basic purposes of the Socio-economic and Caste Census (SECC), conducted in 2011, was to collect more comprehensive and reliable data on the
socio-economic characteristics of different castes. Hopefully, SECC data will be available relatively soon and facilitate more in-depth enquiries of this sort. Meanwhile, we are constrained to adopt the more tentative approach of guessing caste from surnames. 

2 Caste, Occupation and Power

One of the earliest enquiries into caste inequalities in positions of prestige was done by none other than B R Ambedkar, about six decades ago. He highlighted the fact that in the Madras Presidency, Brahmins represented only 3% of the population but captured a much larger share of the positions of power and privilege. In 1948, they occupied 37% of the gazetted posts ofthe government and 44% of the non-gazetted posts with a salary above Rs 100 a month (Ambedkar nd, Table 12.1). The skewed caste composition of government jobs continues to this day. A recent examination of top-level central government jobs reveals a near absence of Dalits and Adivasis (Varma 2012). For instance, there were no Dalits at all at the Secretary level at the time of this study, in March 2011. Even at other senior levels, the share of Scheduled Castes (SCs) and Scheduled Tribes (STs) was minuscule
(Table 1)
Table 1)
Table 1: SCs and STs in Top-Level Government Jobs (as on 14 March 2011)

Level  
Total Number of Posts  
SC Officers  
ST Officers
Secretary  
149    
0 (0)
4  (2.7)
Additional Secretary    
108
2 (1.9)
2  (1.9)
Joint secretary
477
31 (6.5)
15 (3.1)
Director
590
17 (2.9)
7  (1.2)
In brackets, percentage of SC/ST officers in the total number of posts.

Source: Varma (2012).

The representation of disadvantaged castes in higher government jobs has slowly improved over time with the spread of education as well as due to reservations. In 1965, the proportion of SCs and STs in government jobs was just 2.4% in the Group A category (corresponding to highest rank, status and level of responsibility), 3.4% in Group B and 10.3% in Group C. By 2003, these proportions had increased to 16.1%, 18.6% and 22.8%, respectively. 

Employment of Dalits and Adivasis at a senior level in the government not only gives them a sense of dignity, but also contributes to their financial mobility and access to social networks (Jodhka 2010). Further, it helps to bridge the social distance that often separates civil servants from the people and ensure that the administration is sensitive to the needs, rights and interests of the underprivileged.

There has been a glaring absence of Dalits and Adivasis in the media as well. In 1996, B N Uniyal, a senior Indian journalist concluded that “in all the 30 years I had worked as journalist I had never met a fellow journalist who was Dalit” (Uniyal 1996). Uniyal’s findings were submitted in a memorandum by the president of the Dalit Shiksha Andolan and the convener of the Dalit Writers Forum in 1998 to the Editors Guild of India and the Press Council of India. The memorandum demanded creation of a national commission aimed at ensuring that the caste composition of the Indian media would be somewhat similar to the caste composition of the population by 2005 (Jeffrey 2001).

However, these demands were not met and the 21st century continues to witness a sore lack of diversity in the Indian media. In 2006, the Centre for the Study of Developing Societies surveyed 40 national media organisations and failed to find a single Dalit or Adivasi person in key decision-making positions. Seventy-one per cent of these positions were occupied by upper-caste Hindu men (Sethi 2007). More than five years after this study, Dalits and Adivasis remain virtually absent from the country’s newsrooms (Jeffrey 2012). The exclusion of SCs and STs from the media has a direct impact on the news and stories that come out, and the light in which they are composed. It also reinforces social prejudices against these groups and the denial of their entitlements (Sethi 2007).4

The under-representation of Dalits and Adivasis also applies in the higher education system. According to data obtained under the Right to Information Act, 48.5% of the teaching positions reserved for SCs and STs were vacant in 24 central universities in 2010-11. As the rank of the posts becomes higher,  the share of vacant positions increases. For instance, over 84% of Reader positions and 92% of Professor positions in the SC/ST category were vacant in that year (Gaikwad 2012).

Upper castes dominate the country’s business community as well. In 2010, 93% of the members of the corporate boards of the top 1,000 Indian companies (based on total assets) belonged to “forward castes”. The dominance of upper castes in corporate boards helps them to secure not only economic power but also political clout, given the influence of businesses on policy decisions (Ajit et al 2012). Findings from successive economic surveys reveal that the proportion of Dalits among entrepreneurs (9.9% in 1990 and 9.8% in 2005) is much below their share in the total population.5

Among the country’s 46 billionaires in 2012, there were no Dalits or Adivasis, and only one was a Muslim. Twenty-eight of them were from traditional merchant classes – Bania (including Marwari), Parsi and Sindhi. A few belonged to other upper castes and a small number were from Other Backward Classes (OBCs) (Gandhi and Walton 2012). According to Forbes magazine data reported by Aakar Patel (2012), eight of the 10 richest persons in India are Banias – a privileged trading community that accounts for barely 2% of India’s population.

Upper castes have an overwhelming presence even in prestigious sports. In 2008, seven of the 11 players in the Indian cricket team were Brahmins. Asked to comment on this, the chairman of the national cricket academy – also a Brahmin – dismissed it as a “coincidence” (Stevenson 2008). Tejpal (2012) writes poignantly about his struggles to be accepted as a polo player by Rajput school friends who thought that only they were entitled to play polo.

The counterpart of this dominance of the upper castes in privileged occupations is a preponderance of disadvantaged castes in jobs requiring hard labour or menial work. For instance, 40% of government-employed safai karamcharis (also known as “sweepers”), hired to clean public spaces, are Dalits (Varma 2012). Almost all of India’s more than 3 lakh manual scavengers are Dalits (Tharamangalam 2012)


Table 2: Share of Major Social Groups in Different Occupations in Uttar Pradesh, 2004-05 (%)

Occupations
High Caste
OBC
Muslim
Dalit
Othersa
Managers in private firms
74
26
0
0
0
Engineers, scientists, doctors
63
21
10
5
1
Clerks and clerical assistants
47
26
14
9
4
Lawyers, teachers, accountants
42
32
12
12
2
Police
32
46
6
13
3
Technical workers
24
37
18
18
3
Drivers
19
27
36
17
1
Cleaners and waiters
10
38
13
38
1
Skilled manual workers
7
31
31
28
3
Unskilled manual workers
6
35
15
42
2
Agricultural labourers
3
36
11
48
2
All occupations (i e, share of each
group in the population)
21
37
19
22
1


                              a Adivasi, Sikh, Jain, Christian, etc.

Source: Authors’ calculations from India Human Development Survey data. Figures apply to  persons aged 18-60 years. Row entries add up to 100.

Table 2 (p 46) presents the share of major social groups in various occupations in Uttar Pradesh, according to the India Human Development Survey 2004-05. The data clearly shows that prestigious and well-paid professions such as business management, engineering, law, teaching and accountancy are dominated by the upper castes. For instance, the upper castes account for one-fifth or so of the population of Uttar Pradesh, but about one-half to three-fourths of privileged occupations such as private-firm managers, engineers, scientists, doctors and clerks. As one moves to positions involving manual work, the proportions of OBCs, Dalits and Muslims rise significantly.  Occupations involving unskilled manual labour or agricultural work are performed predominantly by Dalits, followed by the OBCs and Muslims.

3 Caste and Public Institutions in Allahabad

3.1 The Survey
To take a closer look at these issues, we conducted a little survey of the caste composition of public institutions in Allahabad
between June and August 2012. We began by collecting names of people in “positions of power and influence” (POPIs) from various institutional websites, lists of office employees, a directory published by the Allahabad Press Club, and related sources.  The reference institutions include educational institutions (e g, Allahabad University and the Indian Institute of Information Technology Allahabad), administrative institutions (e g, the district administration and the municipal corporation), judicial bodies (e g, the Allahabad High Court), trade unions and nongovernmental organisations (NGOs). For purposes of comparison, we also looked at a few manual occupation groups such as rickshaw pullers. Further details of the reference groups and corresponding sources are given in the Appendix (p 51).

A total of 1,852 names were collected. Most of them were men, reflecting the highly patriarchal nature of the society in Allahabad – an issue not unrelated to the caste hierarchy but nevertheless beyond the scope of this article. The next task was to associate each name (more precisely, each surname) with a particular caste or community, as accurately as possible. In some cases, this is quite easy. For instance, it is common knowledge in Allahabad that someone called “Srivastava” would normally be a Kayastha. Of course, in principle nothing prevents a member of another caste from calling himself or herself Srivastava (whether to masquerade as a Kayastha or for any other reason). In practice, however, the chance of a Srivastava not being a Kayastha is so low – at least in Allahabad – that it can be ignored for our purposes.7

There are also cases where the caste connotation of a particular surname is not a matter of common knowledge, but can be inferred with reasonable confidence by consulting scholarly sources or knowledgeable persons. Johri, for instance, appears to be a Kayastha surname, at least in eastern Uttar Pradesh.8   We have sought and used as much expert information as possible, trying to avoid any unreliable guesswork. 

Finally, there were cases (325 out of 1,852) where it was not possible to link a surname to a particular caste group or community with any confidence. For instance, the name “Sanjay Kumar” has no particular caste connotation. In some cases, we had an opportunity to resolve the ambiguity through direct enquiry from the person concerned. Since very few of these remaining cases looked like they might be Muslim or Christian names, we classified them as “unidentified Hindu”.

3.2 Main Findings
Table 3, based on this survey, indicates the share of upper castes (more precisely, of persons identified with reasonable confidence as upper caste) in various positions of power and influence in Allahabad. This share has been calculated in two ways: in the entire sample (for the relevant group), and in the subset of those (within that group) whose caste could be identified. The former can be seen as a lower bound on the actual share of the upper castes in POPIs, since some of those whose caste could not be identified may be upper caste as well.  The latter, on the other hand, is a plausible upper bound, because the share of the upper castes among the “unidentified” is likely to be lower than their share among the identified.
Table 3: Share of Upper Castes in Positions of Power and Influence, Allahabad (%)


Reference Groupa
Upper Castes
Brahmin and Kayastha

In Entire Group
Among Those “Identified”
In Entire Group
Among Those “Identified”
Leaders of teachers’ unions (17)
100
100
76
76
Allahabad Press Club, office-bearers (16)
100
100
75
75
Proprietors of advertisement agencies (11)
91
91
55
55
Hospital doctors (99)
89
94
37
39
Bar Association, executive committee (28)
86
96
68
76
Prominent publishers (12)
83
100
42
50
GBPSSI faculty (15)
80                   
80
60
67
Advocate Association, executive committee (14)
79
100
57
73
NGO representatives (30)
77
88
47
54
Union leaders (clerical & manual workers) (49)
76
88
55
64
Allahabad University faculty* (112)                
76
77
54
55
CDOs and BDOs (20)
75
88
40
53
Reporters of media houses (62)
74
85
53
61
Ashok Nagar residents (62)
74
82
32
36
Former presidents, AU students’ union (79)
73
89
44
54
Prominent artists (55)
71
89
47
59
Allahabad Press Club, members (104)
71
80
56
63
Police officers (district and block levels) (28)
68
100
39
58
IIIT Allahabad faculty (47)
68
100
36
56
High court judges (75)
68
81
32
38
High court lawyers* (100)
67
88
44
58
Traders’ association (6)
67
80
0
0
College principals (16)
56
69
19
23
Junior engineers, Allahabad municipality (20)
55
79
30
43
Total (1,077)
75
87
46
54

AU = Allahabad University. BDO = Block Development Officer. CDO = Chief Development Officer. GBPSSI = G B Pant Social Science Institute. IIIT = Indian Institute of Information Technology.

In brackets, size of the group. Asterisks indicate cases where a sample was taken, due to the large size of the group; in such cases, the number in brackets is the size of the sample.

The first column indicates the proportion of persons identified (with reasonable confidence) as upper caste in the entire group. The second column indicates their  proportion in the subset of all those (within the relevant group) whose caste could be identified. These figures can be interpreted as lower and upper bounds, respectively, on the actual proportion of upper-caste persons in the relevant group. Similarly with Brahmins

Starting from the last row of Table 3, the overall share of upper castes in this list of POPIs is at least 75% , compared with around 21% in the population of Uttar Pradesh as a whole.9  Brahmins and Kayasthas alone have cornered about half of the POPIs – more than four times their share in the population of Uttar Pradesh. These are approximate figures, given the possible inaccuracies involved in guessing castes from surnames, but the pattern is clear enough: the upper castes continue to have overwhelming control over public institutions. It is not that other castes (or communities) are completely unrepresented, but with such a large majority, it stands to reason that the upper castes must be calling the shots.

An attempt was also made to identify Dalits in the sample. This required further enquiries, since Dalits often do not have recognisable surnames. In fact, many of them do not have a surname at all, or, at any rate, are listed in official documents (such as employee registers) under names – or nicknames – such as Chhote, Savitri or Guddu. That itself is quite telling. More importantly, there was no evidence of any significant presence of Dalits in the sample institutions, except a few – such as the university faculty – where mandatory quotas are supposed to apply. On the other hand, Dalits were consistently over-represented in menial jobs. For instance, a large proportion of safai karamcharis are Dalits. And among 30 rickshaw pullers who were surveyed, almost half were Dalits.

It is worth noting that the dominance of the upper castes seems to be, if anything, even stronger in institutions of “civil society” than in state institutions. For instance, in Allahabad the share of the upper castes is close to 80% among NGO representatives and trade union leaders, close to 90% in the executive committee of the Bar Association, and a full 100% among office-bearers of the Press Club (which is, in fact, made up almost entirely of Brahmins and Kayasthas). Even trade unions of workers who belong mainly to disadvantaged castes are often under the control of upper-caste leaders. There is some food for thought here about the grip of the caste hierarchy on social institutions, including some that are otherwise anti-establishment. There is a little (not much) more balance in state institutions such as the Allahabad Municipal Corporation or Allahabad University. Even there, however, the share of Dalits among POPIs is minuscule, especially in the more prestigious categories such as “head of department”.

3.3 Beyond POPIs
For purposes of broad-brush comparison, we also collected similar data from an informal sample of persons involved in a range of intermediate and subordinate occupations. Examples of the former include peons, clerks and security guards. The
latter refer mainly to occupations involving hard manual labour, such as rickshaw pullers, gardeners and safai karamcharis.
The data we collected on intermediate and subordinate occupations are a little patchy, since our main focus was on POPIs, but some basic patterns emerge (Table 4).

For instance, it was interesting to find that even in inter - mediate occupations the upper castes are heavily overrepresented (at least in the public sector – our main source of information on inter mediate occupations). Many of these occupations, e.g. peon or security guard, do not require special skills beyond elementary education. Yet, jobs in that category tend to be considered as a privilege of sorts, especially government jobs which are comparatively well paid. At least 36% of those in our sample of intermediate occupations were recognisably upper caste – almost twice their share in the population.


Table 4: Share of Upper Castes and Others in Different Occupation Groups (%)


Positions of Power and Influence (1,077)
“Intermediate Positions”
(399)
Occupations Involving Hard Labour (225)
Upper castes
  75
     36
8
Persons without surname   
   1
13
50
Others
24
51
42

a See Table 3.
b Mainly Class 4 staff, accounts clerk, second and first grade clerks, safai nayak (cleaning supervisor), nayab moharrir (revenue collection officer) and “helper” at the Allahabad Municipal Corporation, and also guards and junior clerical staff at the G B Pant Social Science Institute. Size of each group (number of persons) in brackets; this table omits 151 cases (out of 1,852) that did not clearly fit into these categories.


As soon as manual labour is involved, however, the pattern is reversed: upper castes virtually vanish and most of the workers seem to belong to scor other disadvantaged groups.  We say “seem” because, as mentioned earlier, a large proportion (about half in our sample) of those in subordinate occupations have no surname in offi cial records. It is a reasonable guess that someone listed as Chhote or Kalu in the employment register is not upper caste. 

A particularly telling case is that of the “Dome” working for the Allahabad Municipal corporation. The term Dome is used to refer simultaneously to (1) workers employed by the municipality to remove dead animals, and (2) the caste (a sc) to which these workers belong. No need is felt, apparently, to distinguish the caste from the occupation – it is taken for granted that all those working as Dome for the municipality belong to the Dome caste. Most of them are listed without surname in the municipality registers.


4 Discussion

The survey findings raise an obvious question: how do the upper castes manage to corner such a high share of the positions of power and influence? One lame explanation, sometimes invoked by the upper castes, is that there is a shortage of qualified persons for these positions among disadvantaged social groups. This is a partial explanation, at best, for specific positions that require exceptional qualifications.  But as a general explanation of uppercaste bias among POPIs, it has little merit.

To illustrate, Table 5 presents some information on the educational attainments of different social groups in Uttar Pradesh, again based on the India Human Development Survey 2004-05. As one would expect, the proportion of graduates in the

Table 5: Educational Attainments of Major Social Groups in Uttar Pradesh (2004-05)


Share of Adult Population
Proportion of Adults Who Have Completed Graduation
Share of Adult Graduate Population
High caste
21
16.3
49
OBC
37
4.7
27
Muslim
19
3.8
11
Dalit
22
3.0
10
Other
1
3.6
3
Total
100
6.5
100

   Source: Authors’ calculations from India Human Development Survey (IHDS) data. Figures apply to persons aged 18-60 years.

adult population is much larger among the upper castes than among OBCs, Dalits or Muslims. And yet, because the upper castes account for a small share (about one-fifth) of the population of Uttar Pradesh, their share in the total population of adult graduates is not more than half. In other words, almost half of all graduates in Uttar Pradesh are OBC, Dalit or Muslim. Thus, there is no shortage of persons qualified for white-collar employment and related jobs among the disadvantaged social groups.

Having said this, relatively high levels of education among the upper castes certainly contribute to the upper-caste dominance of POPIs. In fact, in some cases it seems to be the main explanation. For instance, the share of different social groups among “clerks and clerical assistants” in Uttar Pradesh is not very different from their share in the graduate adult population (Tables 2 and 5). Thus, in principle, if disadvantaged groups were able to secure fair educational opportunities, they would also have a fair share of these occupations. In practice, there are massive social inequalities in access to education (especially quality education), and these play a key role in the upper-caste dominance of public institutions. The other side of the same coin is that universal quality education would be a powerful weapon against social exclusion.

Aside from higher education levels, upper castes also enjoy more extensive and powerful social networks. Upper-caste persons tend to have friends and well-wishers in influential positions, not just because they are relatively affluent and well educated but also by virtue of their caste and family ties. The role of social networks in securing employment opportunities and access to positions of power and privilege in places like Allahabad is reasonably obvious from first-hand observation, and has also been studied by various scholars.10 These privileged social networks tend to be self-reinforcing and have helped to transform POPIs into a virtual upper-caste bastion. 

In addition to the role (legitimate or illegitimate, depending on the situation) of social networks, plain discrimination against disadvantaged groups is also likely to play a part in their exclusion from POPIs. Discrimination begins with the schooling system, which is far from impartial between different social groups.11 It is also common in the labour market. Recent studies, for instance, have shown that job applications tend to be treated quite differently depending on the surname of the applicant (presumably because the surname acts as a hint – or more – of the applicant’s social background).12 Even seemingly impartial concerns for “merit” or “family background” on the part of employers often have discriminatory undertones (Jodhka and Newman 2007).

Finally, poor implementation of reservation norms (applicable mainly in the public sector) has probably contributed to the over-representation of upper castes among POPIs. We did not study this issue in any detail, but we did hear of various means
that are sometimes used by public institutions in Allahabad to circumvent reservation norms. To illustrate, consider an academic institution where the norms require every third faculty appointment to be made from a reserved category. If the faculty size is relatively small, this restriction can be avoided by dividing the faculty into small “centres” with one or two members each, and making faculty appointments centre-wise rather than for the institution as a whole, so that a third appointment rarely comes up.13 Quite likely, public institutions in Allahabad have found many other ways of undermining the reservation norms. Further research on this as well as on other factors of unequal access to POPIs would be useful.

One thing is clear: there is little evidence, in Allahabad, of any voluntary effort on the part of the upper castes to ensure some social “diversity” in public institutions. Independently of reservation norms, nothing prevents (say) the Press Club, the Bar Association or local NGOs from taking steps to ensure that disadvantaged groups are not excluded. The idea may sound naïve, but voluntary attention to diversity in public institutions is an accepted norm in many countries today.14 Even in India, it has made some inroads in specific contexts, e g, in some media houses.

In Allahabad, it seems to be the reverse: the upper castes guard their privileged access to positions of power and influence. Resistance against reservation norms is one obvious example. But quite likely, many other barriers are used to guard caste privileges.

One of the most effective barriers is endogamous marriage. Every time an upper-caste person marries within his or her caste without good reason, he or she helps to perpetuate the caste system and the privileges of the upper castes. Of course, there may be a good reason, for instance being in love with someone who belongs to the same caste. But when endogamous marriage is practised simply because it is considered the norm, it is a form of caste discrimination. The resilience of this norm in Allahabad is one symptom, among others, of the tendency of the upper castes to guard their privileges, consciously or unconsciously.

This points to another interesting aspect of upper-caste attitude towards caste. When the case is made for voluntary attention to diversity, a common response is that caste is “best ignored”. In our experience, many upper-caste persons pride themselves, in good faith, in not being “caste conscious”. Obliterating caste consciousness is certainly one possible way of fighting caste prejudices. The problem is that ignoring or pretending to ignore caste tends to play into the hands of the upper castes: not only does it leave intact most of their power and privileges (including social networks, cultural affinities and shared norms), it also hides these privileges and protects them from being challenged. Besides, if ignoring caste is the best way to fight the caste system, what better place to start than marriage? Yet endogamous marriage remains the norm.15 Clearly, most of the upper castes do not ignore caste at all. And  if they are caste conscious, why not exercise that caste consciousness in a constructive manner, by paying more attention to diversity in public institutions?

5 Concluding Remarks

Positions of power and influence in Allahabad are overwhelmingly dominated by upper castes, while disadvantaged castes and communities are largely relegated to menial or subordinate occupations. The latter’s inability to secure an adequate presence in public institutions is not just a reflection of historical disadvantage, but also a symptom of active resistance from the privileged castes.  This situation has many adverse social consequences. It undermines the constitutional right to equality of opportunity, restricts upward mobility for disadvantaged castes, and reinforces class divisions and economic inequalities.  Social exclusion can also be an important source of conflict as well as economic inefficiency. Last but not least, the hold of the upper castes on positions of power perpetuates the caste hierarchy.  The continuing exclusion of disadvantaged castes (and communities) from positions of power and influence calls for more effective and extensive reservation policies, and also other means of affirmative action such as universal quality education.  But there is also a strong case for greater attention to diversity in public institutions, of the sort that has significantly reduced ethnic or gender imbalances in other countries. Nothing prevents the Bar Association, NGOs or trade unions in Allahabad from ensuring that they do not become upper-caste clubs. When they fail to do so, they become effective guardians of the caste hierarchy.

No one can be blamed for being born in an upper caste, since it is not a matter of choice. But perhaps this privilege entails a special responsibility to fight the caste system, instead of leaving that to the disadvantaged groups – or worse, obstructing their struggle for equality.


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A case for quotas in promotions...

Avinash K. Mishra,
Assistant Professor of Political Science,
Shaheed Bhagat Singh College,
University of Delhi

Source : http://www.thehindubusinessline.com/opinion/article3897387.ece


The absence of SCs and STs at higher levels of government shows that our decision-making process is neither inclusive nor democratic.

Amidst the chaos over ‘Coalgate’, Parliament failed to pass the 117th Constitution Amendment Bill, enabling reservation for the scheduled castes (SC) and the scheduled tribes (ST) for promotion in government jobs. Yet, the hard facts of the issue deserve a debate at the country’s highest panchayat.

In a memorandum submitted to Governor General of India in 1942, B.R. Ambedkar estimated that in a cadre strength of 1,056 Indian Civil Service (ICS or today’s Indian Administrative Service: IAS) officers, 568 were Indians. Of them, only one belonged to the SC category.

ENTRY LEVEL AND AFTER

The situation, even after seventy years, is no different at the cutting-edge positions of decision-making. There is only one ST and not a single SC among the 126 Secretary-level posts in the Government of India today. Among the rest of the 594 Central posts at the Additional Secretary and Joint Secretary level, there are only 19 SCs and about that many STs. Inclusion through recruitment is the mere beginning of an empowerment process. It needs to be carried forward in the form of parity and equality in the highest decision-making levels and bodies.

Today, the SCs have an overall 17 per cent representation in central government jobs, which is more or less proportionate to their relative population. But that is only a result of their over-representation – 40 per cent – in ‘Group D’ services and below. Moreover, there is a huge backlog of vacancies at the higher levels in every department – Central as well as State.

Affirmative action for SC/STs in India has never been the pro-active, consciously inclusionary process that was envisaged by our Constitution drafters. Why is it difficult for an SC/ST IAS officer to become a Secretary to the Government of India? After all, direct recruitment through all-India competitive exams conducted by Union Public Service Commission (UPSC) ensures that 22.5 per cent of SCs and STs enter the IAS every year.

JOINT SECY SELECTION

The problem arises when the ‘seniority list’ for direct IAS recruits is prepared at the Lal Bahadur Shastri National Academy of Administration at Mussoorie. This is based on 80 per cent weightage for marks at civil services entrance exam and 20 per cent for marks during the training period at the Academy.

Since the SC/ST merit list is normally below the general merit list, the IAS recruits among the former, even after a good probation (that is in itself a subjective matter), end up finishing at the bottom of the ‘seniority list’ every year.

The selection of Secretaries, Additional Secretaries and Joint Secretaries in the Central Government is done through an empanelment process. Since 1990, the empanelment process for the Joint Secretary level has been based on a quantifiable scale from zero to 10. This method converts all the annual confidential records of IAS officers into marks and calibrates it on a scale of 10 every year.

A recent change introduced in 2010 by the Department of Personnel and Training (DOPT) decided to mark anybody securing points between 8 and 10 as being under the “outstanding category”. But in a batch of 100-150, only 40-45 officers become eligible to work as Joint Secretary. It is from this bunch of 40-45 Joint Secretaries that
Additional Secretaries and Secretaries are selected. If, by some chance, no SC/ST figures at the JS level, there would be no Secretaries at the end of the spectrum.

ARBITRARY EXCLUSION
In the case of the IAS batches of 1990, 1991 and 1992, the cut-off for selecting Joint Secretaries was itself fixed at 9.3, despite anything above 8 being termed ‘outstanding’ by the DOPT. Why cannot there be an affirmative system of selecting SC/ST officers, subject to their obtaining this minimum 8 points that is officially regarded as
‘outstanding’? In this case, the objective itself seems to be to deny any opportunity for SC/STs to contribute to nation-building at the cutting-edge of decision-making. Such arbitrary, if not deliberate, exclusion was also seen in the recent empanelment of Additional Secretaries from the 1982 IAS batch, where all but one SC and one ST officer got picked up. It is quite possible that at the next stage for selection as Secretaries, even they may face the axe.

Is it possible that our Dalit and Adivasi officers are so unqualified, or that our bureaucracy at the top is so outstandingly meritorious?  Either way, please don’t blame Dalits and Adivasis for the current policy paralysis in the Government or the bureaucracy not delivering on its commitments.

SITUATION IN BANKS

The situation is no different in, say public sector banks. There is a common mechanism of “zone of consideration” for SC/STs in promotion up to scale 3. This means that if SC/ST candidates qualify a written test and are found fit for promotion, they are exempted from interview. However, there is no such scheme after this level. Nor do all banks follow a uniform mechanism.

Typically, promotion schemes in public sector banks are based on confidential report (CR) and interview, with both being given equal weightage. It is at the interview stage that SC/ST officers invariably face disqualification for promotion at the senior levels, even if they may have better CRs and have joined as direct recruit officers.
Sometimes, they get knocked out even by general candidates, who may have joined the bank at the clerical cadre levels.

All these only highlight how administrative selection procedures at the top have no in-built inclusive, leave alone affirmative,mechanisms. Very rarely do we see meritorious, hard-working SC/ST officers managing to break the ‘glass ceiling’ that prevents them from rising to the upper rungs of the bureaucracy.

How many of us remember G. Krishnaiah, a Bihar cadre IAS officer, who was killed in 1994 while serving as District Magistrate of Gopalganj, on the orders of a well-connected local criminal politician? His crime? Being a Dalit, who was energetically implementing land reforms in a region where various upper caste landlords-led bhoomi senas ruled the roost.

The kind of social experience, vision, fresh perspective a Dalit or an Adivasi would bring to officialdom the table is something we need to explicitly recognise today.

(The author is Assistant Professor of Political Science at Shaheed
Bhagat Singh College, University of Delhi.)
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