Saturday, January 31, 2026

A sober assessment of India’s power, performance, and policy under Narendra Modi

 Over the last decade, India’s political leadership has increasingly projected the country as a decisive global actor. Senior officials, including Prime Minister Narendra Modi and External Affairs Minister S. Jaishankar, have described India as moving from a “balancing power” to a “leading power,” and have argued that India now helps shape global conversations rather than merely participating in them. This narrative has been a consistent feature of India’s diplomatic messaging, particularly in the years preceding the 2024 general elections.

However, influence in international politics is best measured not by participation or visibility, but by outcomes: the capacity to shape decisions, to resist coercion by more powerful states, and to protect national interests and citizens when they conflict with those of others. On these metrics, India’s record is more mixed than official rhetoric suggests.

Strategic autonomy and great-power pressure

India has long described “strategic autonomy” as a core principle of its foreign policy. In practice, this autonomy has faced significant constraints. One example is the Chabahar port project in Iran, which was publicly framed by the Modi government as a symbol of independent regional strategy and connectivity to Afghanistan and Central Asia. Yet US sanctions on Iran have repeatedly limited India’s operational freedom. While India has sought waivers and engaged diplomatically with Washington, the project has progressed slowly and under clear external constraint. This does not amount to a complete abandonment, but it does demonstrate that India has limited ability to insulate strategic projects from American sanctions policy.

Similarly, under the second Trump administration, India has faced renewed trade and economic pressure. US tariffs on Indian goods remain in place, and negotiations have not produced broad exemptions. Immigration and visa regimes affecting Indian nationals have also tightened, reflecting US domestic priorities rather than Indian diplomatic leverage. These developments illustrate the asymmetry in the relationship: India is an important partner to the United States, but not one that can meaningfully alter core US economic or political decisions when interests diverge.

India’s continued purchase of Russian oil despite Western sanctions does show a degree of autonomy. However, this autonomy is partial and transactional, enabled by market conditions and Russia’s willingness to offer discounted crude, rather than by India’s ability to reshape Western policy or prevent secondary pressure.

Russia, citizens abroad, and limits of protection

India’s relationship with Russia remains formally strong, but the war in Ukraine has exposed vulnerabilities. There have been verified cases of Indian nationals being recruited to work in Russia under misleading terms, some of whom ended up in proximity to active conflict zones. While there is no evidence of a deliberate Russian policy to forcibly conscript Indians, the episode highlights gaps in India’s ability to prevent exploitation of its citizens abroad and to respond rapidly when such cases emerge. Government engagement has occurred, but outcomes have been slow and uneven, underscoring the limits of consular protection when host countries are uncooperative.

China: unresolved security and economic asymmetry

China remains India’s most significant long-term strategic challenge. Since 2020, border tensions have persisted without a clear political resolution, despite multiple rounds of military and diplomatic talks. At the same time, economic dependence has deepened rather than diminished. India’s trade deficit with China has expanded sharply since 2014, reaching well over $100 billion by the mid-2020s. This reflects structural weaknesses in India’s manufacturing base and supply-chain competitiveness rather than short-term policy choices.

India has restricted Chinese investment and apps on national security grounds, but these measures have not translated into reduced import dependence. In this sense, India has absorbed security costs without securing corresponding economic leverage.

Europe and narrative management

Relations with European states have expanded in scope, including negotiations over trade and high-level political engagement. However, European leaders have at times publicly articulated expectations about India’s energy purchases from Russia or its defence diversification. Such statements are not unusual in diplomacy, but they do underscore that India is often responding to external pressure rather than setting the terms of debate. The contrast between assertive domestic rhetoric and cautious external positioning has become increasingly visible.

Domestic governance and international credibility

Foreign policy credibility is inseparable from domestic governance capacity. On this front, the Modi government’s record includes several decisions whose negative consequences are well documented.

The 2016 demonetisation exercise caused a sharp disruption to the informal economy, with limited evidence that its stated goals—such as eliminating black money—were achieved. No comprehensive official evaluation has been released to date.

The 2020 farm laws were enacted with limited consultation and eventually repealed after prolonged protests, raising questions about policy process, federal consultation, and political risk assessment.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, especially the second wave in 2021, India experienced severe health-system stress, with shortages of oxygen and hospital capacity widely reported. While no country handled the pandemic perfectly, the scale of suffering exposed weaknesses in coordination and preparedness.

Persistent urban air pollution, water quality issues, and recurring infrastructure-related disasters continue to affect public welfare. The prolonged ethnic violence in Manipur, and the delayed visible response from the central leadership, further reinforced perceptions of governance drift.

These domestic challenges matter internationally because they shape perceptions of state capacity, institutional reliability, and long-term stability—key components of power.

Narrative versus capability

India today is larger, more visible, and more economically significant than it was in 2014. It remains well ahead of Pakistan and Bangladesh in aggregate economic and military terms, and it is not objectively “re-hyphenated” with them in global rankings. However, domestic political discourse increasingly uses these countries as reference points, which reflects a narrowing of ambition rather than a realistic assessment of India’s peer group.

The central problem, therefore, is not decline but disjunction: a widening gap between expansive claims and constrained outcomes. Participation in global forums, personal diplomacy, and symbolic leadership roles cannot substitute for institutional strength, manufacturing depth, policy stability, and the ability to absorb economic or diplomatic shocks.

Conclusion

India under Narendra Modi has pursued an assertive narrative of power and autonomy. In practice, the country has achieved selective gains but remains structurally constrained by economic asymmetries, external dependencies, and domestic governance challenges. Power in international politics is ultimately the capacity to say no, to protect citizens, and to shape outcomes when interests conflict. On that test, India’s performance has been uneven.

The resulting tension between promise and performance is not merely rhetorical. It has material consequences for India’s credibility abroad and trust at home. Addressing it will require less emphasis on spectacle and personalization, and greater investment in institutions, policy coherence, and long-term economic capability.

Wednesday, January 28, 2026

The Myth of “General Category Neutrality”: How Invisible Privilege Is Mistaken for Merit

Introduction

A recurring argument in the discourse on social justice in India is the assertion that the General Category (GC) represents a neutral, casteless sphere defined exclusively by merit. Proponents of this perspective contend that GC candidates achieve success devoid of structural assistance, whereas reservation policies introduce distortions by prioritizing caste identity over competence. This paper posits that such a claim to neutrality is both empirically incorrect and conceptually flawed. The purported neutrality of the General Category is not an objective reality; rather, it is a narrative constructed through the systematic erasure of inherited advantages, particularly regarding land and assets. This myth persists not because it is factual, but because the state has historically declined to quantify the material basis of caste power.

1. The Theoretical Meaning of "Neutrality"

In theory, neutrality necessitates equal starting points, a lack of inherited benefits, and competition grounded exclusively in personal effort and ability. If two individuals compete under truly neutral circumstances, disparities in outcomes can logically be ascribed to merit. Therefore, neutrality demands a symmetry in background conditions. In the Indian context, this symmetry is demonstrably absent.

2. The Definition of the General Category

The General Category is not a sociological entity formed by shared hardships or identity. Instead, it serves as a residual administrative classification, defined negatively as those who do not qualify for SC, ST, OBC, or the more recent EWS quotas. However, the composition of this residual pool is not random. Historically, it has been dominated by upper castes and dominant agrarian groups who have held disproportionate access to land, education, and social capital since the colonial and pre-colonial eras. Labeling this residual group as "general" fabricates an illusion of a neutral baseline, when in reality, it reflects accumulated historical advantages.

3. Land and Assets as Invisible Advantages

Land remains the most critical form of inherited privilege in rural India and constitutes a major source of security for urban households through rental income, collateral, and intergenerational wealth transfer. Ownership of land affords:

  • Freedom from housing insecurity and rent obligations

  • Stable income independent of wage labor

  • The capacity to finance education without incurring debt

  • A buffer against economic volatility

  • Social authority and political leverage

Because these advantages are not captured in competitive exams, job applications, or admission forms, they are misidentified as personal merit. When data on land ownership by caste is absent, inherited security remains statistically invisible, framing outcomes purely as individual achievements.

4. The Asymmetry of Measurement

A fundamental reason the neutrality myth endures is the asymmetry of scrutiny. The state rigorously audits:

  • Income caps for reserved categories

  • "Creamy layer" exclusions

  • Caste certification and documentation

  • Beneficiary eligibility compliance

Conversely, the state does not examine:

  • Inherited land holdings

  • The family asset base

  • Intergenerational continuity in education

  • Caste-linked economic security within GC households

Claims of neutrality exist exactly where measurement ceases. This imbalance fosters a distorted moral economy where disadvantage is audited, while advantage is presumed to be natural.

5. Why Reservations Appear “Unfair” Without Asset Data

In the absence of data on inherited assets:

  • Reservations are viewed as special favors

  • GC candidates are portrayed as victims of discrimination

  • Inequality is framed as a policy outcome rather than a historical product

This conceptual inversion is possible only because the competitive baseline is falsely assumed to be equal. Were caste-aggregated land and asset data made public, reservations would be viewed not as privileges, but as partial correctives within a deeply unequal playing field.

6. Merit as a Socially Produced Outcome

Merit is not generated in a vacuum. It is shaped by:

  • Nutritional standards

  • The quality of schooling

  • Family support systems

  • Time available for preparation

  • Financial stability

  • Psychological security

These factors are heavily correlated with inherited assets. Framing merit as solely individual while neglecting structural inputs converts privilege into virtue and deprivation into failure. The General Category benefits from this misrecognition because its advantages are normalized rather than explicitly identified.

7. Why the State Avoids Publishing Caste-Wise Land Data

Releasing such data would:

  • Expose the "general" category as non-neutral

  • Highlight the concentration of assets among specific castes

  • Debunk the notion of equal competition

  • Shift the debate on social justice from representation to redistribution

Such a shift would fundamentally reshape the moral and legal justification for reservations, making them difficult to delegitimize. The myth of neutrality endures because the data capable of dismantling it is withheld.

8. The Political Utility of the Neutrality Myth

The narrative of neutrality serves several political functions:

  • It shields inherited privilege from review

  • It transforms historical advantage into moral entitlement

  • It frames redistribution as an injustice

  • It keeps social justice discourse symbolic rather than material

This enables dominant groups to resist redistribution while ostensibly championing fairness.

Conclusion

The "General Category" is not neutral. It is historically privileged, materially secure, and statistically shielded from oversight. Its perceived neutrality is an artifact of what the state chooses not to measure, specifically caste-based land and asset ownership.

Dismantling the myth of General Category neutrality does not negate individual effort. Rather, it involves acknowledging that effort is exerted on unequal terrain. Until those foundations are quantified and recognized, debates regarding merit and fairness will remain conceptually defective and politically skewed. The refusal to reveal inherited advantage is not accidental. It is the condition that permits privilege to masquerade as neutrality—allowing inequality to persist unnamed.

Friday, January 16, 2026

When “National Champions” Stop Serving the Nation

 

Why Studying Big Business in India Leaves Many Citizens Uneasy

The more one studies India’s so-called “national champions,” the harder it becomes to accept the reassuring claim that their rise is simply the product of entrepreneurial brilliance and free-market competition. What begins as interest in economic growth often turns into agitation—not because of hostility to business, but because the gap between public narrative and institutional reality becomes impossible to ignore.

This unease is not unique to India, but it is sharper here than in many democracies, including the United States. Comparing the two business landscapes does not reveal a moral winner. Instead, it clarifies why Indian capitalism, as currently structured, generates a deeper sense of democratic discomfort.


The Allure and Elasticity of “National Champions”

The idea of national champions sounds reasonable. Large firms, the argument goes, require state support to compete globally, build infrastructure, create jobs, and advance strategic interests. Every successful economy has large firms; scale itself is not the problem.

The danger lies in elasticity. Once “national interest” becomes a blanket justification, preferential treatment can slide into insulation from market discipline, legal scrutiny, and democratic accountability—while still claiming public legitimacy.

That is where agitation begins.


India’s Business Landscape: Capitalism with Insulated Risk

India’s recent growth story has been accompanied by extraordinary concentration of economic power.

According to the World Inequality Database, the top 1% of Indians now own over 40% of national wealth, up from roughly 22% in the early 1990s. The top 10% own over 75%. This is not merely inequality; it is extreme concentration by global standards.

Corporate concentration mirrors this trend. In several infrastructure and natural-resource sectors—ports, power transmission, airports, telecom, mining market leadership is often determined less by open competition than by access to state-controlled assets. These assets are finite, politically allocated, and difficult to contest ex post.

Risk distribution tells the real story. Indian public-sector banks have repeatedly absorbed private corporate losses. Following the infrastructure and credit boom of the mid-2000s, gross non-performing assets (NPAs) of scheduled commercial banks peaked near 11–12% of advances in 2018, with public banks bearing the overwhelming share. The subsequent recapitalization—over ₹3 trillion injected by the state between 2017 and 2021 effectively socialized corporate risk.

This is not free-market capitalism. It is state-mediated accumulation, where upside accrues privately while downside is absorbed publicly.


Weak Friction, Fast Power

What intensifies unease is not state involvement per se, but weak friction.

India’s institutional counterweights struggle under scale and speed:

  • Judicial delays: India has over 50 million pending cases, with commercial disputes often taking years.

  • Regulatory capacity: Sectoral regulators lack consistent independence and enforcement depth.

  • Media economics: Corporate and government advertising form a large share of revenues for mainstream media, constraining scrutiny.

As a result, economic power converts quickly into political influence, and political influence reinforces economic dominance. Once this loop becomes visible, meritocratic explanations lose credibility.


Nationalism as Economic Armor

Perhaps the most unsettling feature is ideological. Corporate expansion is increasingly framed as “nation-building.” Critique is recast as anti-growth or anti-national. Scrutiny becomes suspect.

This framing matters because it short-circuits democratic evaluation. Questions such as “Who bears the risk?”, “Who benefits from policy sequencing?”, or “Who pays when projects fail?” are not answered substantively—they are morally deflected.

Agitation follows not from cynicism, but from recognizing how dissent itself is delegitimized.


The American Contrast: Corporate Power with Legal Friction

The United States offers no clean alternative. Corporate concentration is severe. By some estimates, the top four firms control over 40% of market share in more than half of U.S. industries. Inequality is extreme: the top 1% own roughly 32–35% of wealth, while real wages for the bottom half have stagnated for decades.

The U.S. government also socializes losses. The 2008 financial crisis bailouts exceeded $700 billion, and pandemic-era corporate support ran into trillions.

Yet the mechanics differ. Corporate power in the U.S. is exercised largely through law—contracts, courts, lobbying, and campaign finance. Antitrust actions, though weakened since the 1980s, still impose friction. In the last decade, the U.S. Department of Justice and Federal Trade Commission have revived antitrust cases against large technology firms, something structurally harder to imagine in India’s current political economy.

The American system bends rules slowly and legally. The Indian system often reshapes them quickly and selectively.

Neither is admirable. But friction matters.


Why the Unease Is Sharper in India

Three factors amplify discomfort in India.

First, starting inequality is higher. When preferential treatment operates atop deep deprivation, its social cost is more visible. India still has over 230 million people living on less than $3.65 a day (PPP) by World Bank standards.

Second, institutional remedies are weaker. In the U.S., exposure can lead to litigation, fines, or regulatory change even if delayed. In India, exposure more often leads to normalization or fatigue.

Third, democratic expectations are higher. India’s constitutional promise creates an expectation of fairness. When elite insulation is presented as national progress, it feels less like hypocrisy and more like betrayal.


What This Agitation Is Really About

The discomfort many citizens feel is not hostility to wealth, scale, or enterprise. It is discomfort with a system that claims to reward merit while systematically insulating power from accountability.

This is not an argument against markets. Markets can be powerful tools for coordination and growth. Nor is it an argument against the state; every successful economy relies on it.

It is an argument against confusing private success with public interest and against treating criticism as disloyalty.

No modern economy functions without state intervention. The real questions are: For whom does the state intervene? At whose risk? With what transparency and accountability?


A Necessary Discomfort

Studying national champions carefully strips away comforting abstractions. It reveals capitalism as it actually exists not as a neutral market mechanism, but as a political settlement shaped by power, institutions, and ideology.

In India, that settlement is increasingly opaque, discretionary, and shielded by nationalist rhetoric. Feeling unsettled by this is not naïveté. It is civic awareness.

The task is not to suppress this discomfort or convert it into permanent outrage. It is to sharpen it into precise, evidence-based questions about risk, reward, and responsibility. Only such precision can sustain democratic scrutiny over time.

Because the real danger is not criticism of national champions.
It is a political economy in which they no longer need to answer to the nation at all.

When Profits Are Private and Risks Become National

 

What Russian Oil and US Tariffs Reveal About Indian Capitalism

Few episodes capture the reality of India’s contemporary business landscape more clearly than this one: large Indian refiners making windfall profits by buying discounted Russian oil, while the Indian state absorbs diplomatic pressure and trade retaliation from the West. It is a textbook case of  "private rewards paired with socialized risk

After the war in Ukraine began in 2022, India dramatically increased imports of discounted Russian crude. From a purely commercial standpoint, this was rational. From a political-economy standpoint, it revealed a deeper structural asymmetry: firms captured extraordinary upside, while the nation carried the downside.


The Facts of the Oil Boom

Before 2022, Russia accounted for less than 2% of India’s crude oil imports. By mid-2023, that figure had risen to around 35–40%, making Russia India’s single largest crude supplier. This shift was driven by steep discounts—often $10 to $30 per barrel below Brent crude—offered by Russia after Western sanctions.

Large private refiners, most prominently Reliance Industries, were uniquely positioned to exploit this arbitrage. With complex refineries, global trading arms, and export infrastructure, they imported discounted crude and sold refined products—diesel, jet fuel, petrochemicals—into global markets at prevailing international prices.

The result was a surge in refining margins. Public financial disclosures show that private refiners recorded some of their highest margins in years during 2022–23. These were not marginal gains; they were windfalls generated by geopolitical dislocation.

From a shareholder’s perspective, this was a success story.


Where the Asymmetry Appears

The asymmetry emerges when we examine who bore the risk.

The geopolitical risk of deepening energy ties with Russia did not sit on corporate balance sheets. It sat with India as a sovereign actor.

As Indian refiners expanded Russian purchases:

  • Diplomatic pressure from the United States and the European Union intensified.

  • India faced repeated scrutiny over sanctions compliance and “backdoor” energy flows.

  • Trade relations came under strain.

In 2024, the U.S. announced and threatened tariff measures and trade enforcement actions affecting Indian exports, citing broader trade and strategic concerns. These measures did not target individual firms that profited from Russian oil. They targeted Indian goods more broadly.

This is the crux of the issue: profits were firm-specific, but risks were national.


Not Just Business as Usual

Defenders argue that this is simply how capitalism works: firms pursue profit; states manage diplomacy. But this defense collapses under closer inspection.

In a system where risk and reward are aligned:

  • Firms earning extraordinary profits from geopolitical arbitrage would face windfall taxes or special levies.

  • Strategic coordination would require burden-sharing, not just benefit capture.

  • Companies would internalize at least part of the diplomatic and trade risk their strategies generate.

This did not happen.

India imposed some windfall taxes on petroleum products in 2022, but these were modest, temporary, and quickly rolled back, even as refining margins remained elevated. There was no durable framework to ensure that extraordinary profits generated by geopolitical instability contributed proportionately to the public interest.

Instead, foreign policy implicitly functioned as corporate risk insurance.


A Pattern, Not an Exception

This episode fits a broader pattern in India’s political economy.

Over the past two decades, India has seen:

  • Rising corporate concentration

  • Increasing reliance on state-controlled resources (land, minerals, spectrum, ports)

  • Repeated socialization of private risk through public-sector banks

According to the World Inequality Database, the top 1% of Indians now own over 40% of national wealth, while the bottom half own barely 3%. Meanwhile, public-sector banks absorbed massive corporate defaults after the infrastructure boom of the 2000s, with gross NPAs peaking near 11–12% in 2018. The state injected over ₹3 trillion to recapitalize banks between 2017 and 2021.

Once again, profits were private; losses were public.

The Russian oil episode simply internationalized this logic.


Nationalism as Moral Cover

What makes this arrangement especially troubling is how it is framed. Corporate arbitrage is retrospectively narrated as “serving national interest”—keeping fuel prices low, ensuring energy security, enhancing India’s strategic autonomy.

These claims are not entirely false. But they are incomplete.

Energy security benefits were diffuse and limited, while profit gains were concentrated and enormous. Yet criticism is often dismissed as anti-national or anti-growth. The language of sovereignty becomes a shield against accountability.

This is how nationalism functions as moral insulation: it transforms legitimate questions about risk, reward, and responsibility into questions of loyalty.


A Brief Comparison with the United States

The United States is hardly a paragon of virtuous capitalism. Corporate bailouts during the 2008 financial crisis exceeded $700 billion, and pandemic-era corporate support ran into the trillions. Market concentration is severe, with the top four firms controlling over 40% of market share in more than half of U.S. industries.

But there is an important difference.

In the U.S., extraordinary profits generated during crises—especially war or pandemics—are more openly debated and often taxed. Antitrust enforcement, though weakened, still exists. Congressional scrutiny, litigation, and investigative journalism impose friction.

Corporate power bends the system slowly and legally.

In India, the fusion of political discretion, weak institutional friction, and nationalist rhetoric allows power to operate faster and more opaquely.


Why Public Unease Is Rational

The growing agitation among informed citizens is not hostility toward business or growth. It is discomfort with a system that:

  • Encourages firms to take geopolitical upside

  • While insulating them from geopolitical downside

  • And presenting the entire arrangement as national progress

This is not free-market capitalism. It is state-buffered capitalism, where sovereignty absorbs volatility so that private balance sheets do not have to.

The problem is not that firms acted rationally. The problem is that institutions allowed rational private behavior to generate irrational public exposure.


The Question India Must Answer

No modern economy functions without state involvement. The real question is not whether the state intervenes, but how the costs and benefits of intervention are distributed.

Who bears the risk?
Who captures the reward?
Who is accountable when strategies succeed?
And who pays when they backfire?

Until these questions are answered institutionally—not rhetorically—India’s national champions will continue to generate growth alongside unease.


Conclusion: The Cost of Misaligned Capitalism

The episode of Indian firms profiting from discounted Russian oil while the Indian state absorbs diplomatic and trade retaliation is not an aberration. It is a revealing case study.

It shows how contemporary Indian capitalism often operates:

  • Private firms capture extraordinary upside

  • The state absorbs strategic and geopolitical risk

  • Citizens bear diffuse costs through trade pressure, fiscal stress, or democratic erosion

Sunday, January 11, 2026

The Fortresses of Virtue: The Moral High Ground in Modern India

"The Moral High Ground is the last refuge of a scoundrel."

If Samuel Johnson were to walk the streets of Delhi, Mumbai, or Bengaluru today, he would likely find his original aphorism regarding patriotism too narrow. In a civilization as ancient and diverse as India, where Dharma (duty/righteousness) is the bedrock of social consciousness, the scoundrel does not merely wrap himself in the flag; he wraps himself in the unassailable robes of Moral Superiority.

In the Indian context, the "Moral High Ground" is a particularly potent weapon. It is weaponized across three distinct theaters: the political, the spiritual, and the social. In each, the mechanism is identical: the scoundrel adopts a position of such extreme virtue that any opposition to them is framed not as a difference of opinion, but as an assault on India’s soul, safety, or culture.

I. The Political High Ground: Rashtra and "The Anti-National"

In modern Indian political discourse, the scoundrel has discovered that the easiest way to evade accountability for governance failures is to elevate the debate to the existential level of "The Nation."

The classic Johnsonian "Patriotism" has evolved into a hyper-moralized nationalism. Today, the scoundrel does not defend a policy on its economic or social merits; they defend it as an act of service to the Rashtra (Nation). This creates a binary trap:

 * If you question a financial policy, you are not a critic; you are against India's rise.

 * If you question a security failure, you are not a concerned citizen; you are demoralizing the armed forces.

By claiming the Moral High Ground of "National Interest," the scoundrel renders themselves immune to scrutiny. The label of "Anti-National" is the ultimate silencer. It is a tool used to bypass the tedious work of democracy—debate, data, and defense—and jump straight to the moral condemnation of the opponent. The scoundrel knows that in a country deeply scarred by partition and terrorism, the fear of internal betrayal is visceral. They exploit this fear to turn incompetence into a protected virtue.

II. The Spiritual High Ground: The Guru and the God-Complex

India is a land of seekers, which unfortunately makes it a paradise for those who wish to be found. The "Godman" phenomenon is perhaps the most visceral example of the Moral High Ground being used as a refuge for criminality.

We have seen repeated instances of self-styled Gurus and Babas who amass empires of tax-free wealth, private militias, and political influence. When allegations of sexual abuse, land grabbing, or fraud emerge, they do not hire defense lawyers; they invoke the Divine.

 * The Defense: They claim that the allegations are a conspiracy against Indian culture, Dharma, or spirituality itself.

 * The Shield: By positioning themselves as the gatekeepers of salvation, they hold the moral high ground over the law. A police officer or a judge is merely a servant of the state; the Guru claims to be a servant of the Cosmos.

The scoundrel here uses the genuine faith of millions as a human shield. They know that in India, attacking a holy man is culturally taboo. Thus, religion becomes the fortress where the scoundrel hides, knowing that the mob will defend the "Saint" long before the court can convict the sinner.

III. The Cultural High Ground: Sanskar and "Sentiments"

In the social sphere, the Moral High Ground manifests through the weaponization of "Sentiments" (feelings) and Sanskar (tradition).

In contemporary India, the phrase "Hurt Sentiments" has become the scoundrel's most effective veto. Whether it is a film, a book, a comedy set, or a historical thesis, a bad actor need only claim that their "religious or community sentiments are hurt" to shut down the conversation.

 * The Mechanism: The scoundrel positions themselves as the protector of a fragile community honor. By claiming to be "offended," they instantly seize the victim status—which is the modern equivalent of the moral high ground.

 * The Result: This allows for a tyranny of the minority (or the mob), where intellectual freedom is held hostage by whoever claims to be the most outraged.

Similarly, the concept of Sanskar is often weaponized to police women and suppress individual liberty. The scoundrel defends patriarchal control not by admitting they want power, but by claiming they are "protecting Indian Culture" from "Western corruption." By framing repression as cultural preservation, they make oppression look like a virtue.

IV. The Bureaucratic High Ground: "Public Safety"

Finally, we must look at the administrative machinery. In the digital age, the Indian state (regardless of which party is in power) often resorts to the High Ground of "Public Safety" to justify authoritarian overreach.

 * Internet Shutdowns: India frequently leads the world in internet shutdowns. These are rarely justified as "we need to stop people from organizing protests"; they are justified as "maintaining public order."

 * Surveillance: Draconian laws are passed not under the guise of control, but under the guise of "protecting the citizen."

The bureaucrat scoundrel hides behind the shield of Safety. To argue for privacy or freedom of speech is framed as arguing for chaos. The scoundrel presents a false choice: "You can have your freedom, or you can be safe."

Conclusion

The tragedy of the "Moral High Ground" in India is that it corrupts the very virtues it claims to protect.

 * It turns Patriotism into paranoia.

 * It turns Faith into fanaticism.

 * It turns Culture into a cage.

 * It turns Safety into surveillance.

The scoundrel survives in India because they know that we, the people, are deeply moral. We want to be on the side of the Nation, God, and Culture. The scoundrel hijacks these instincts, forcing us to defend them in order to defend our values.

The only way to dislodge the scoundrel from this fortress is to separate the Idea from the Individual. We must learn that one can love the country while questioning the government, revere God while prosecuting the priest, and respect culture while demanding liberty. Until we make that distinction, the Moral High Ground will remain the safest hiding place for the most dangerous people.

Friday, November 14, 2025

The Annihilation Postponed: How the Indian State's Constitutional and Bureaucratic Logic Institutionalized Caste

 

Executive Summary


This report conducts a critical examination of the thesis that the post-colonial Indian state has made the annihilation of caste structurally impossible by absorbing it into its constitutional and bureaucratic logic. The analysis traces this phenomenon from its historical-philosophical roots in the Gandhi-Ambedkar debates and the Poona Pact, through the foundational compromises of the Constituent Assembly. It argues that the state, from its inception, adopted a bifurcated approach: a formal, punitive abolition of "untouchability" via Article 17, alongside a pragmatic, administrative management of "caste" as a category for redressing "backwardness" via Articles 15(4) and 16(4).

The pivotal moment in this codification was the First Constitutional Amendment in 1951, enacted in response to the State of Madras v. Champakam Dorairajan judgment. This amendment legally entrenched caste-based "special provisions," subordinating formal equality to a state-managed project of social justice. This legal framework necessitated a vast bureaucratic architecture including Presidential Schedules (Articles 341/342), National Commissions (NCSC/NCBC), and the "caste certificate" which transformed caste from a fluid social hierarchy into a rigid, state-defined administrative category.

The report analyzes how the Indian judiciary, particularly in Indra Sawhney v. Union of India, acted as a refiner, not a challenger, of this management logic by introducing "creamy layer" exclusions and the 50% ceiling. Recent judgments like Jarnail Singh and State of Punjab v. Davinder Singh have deepened this logic to a granular level, permitting sub-classification within Scheduled Castes. This represents the ultimate reification of caste, as the state now administratively validates the "graded inequality" it was meant to destroy.

The analysis evaluates the arguments for this system as a necessary tool for "substantive equality" and representation against the critical "annihilationist" perspective. Scholars like Anand Teltumbde argue that reservations were a "token remedy" to preserve caste as a tool for political manipulation. Satish Deshpande's work highlights the asymmetrical effect, where lower castes must intensify their caste identity to make claims, while upper castes monopolize the "casteless" general category. This dynamic fuels "vote-bank" politics and has been co-opted by dominant castes (Jats, Marathas) who now agitate for inclusion in the "backward" lists.

Comparative analysis reveals that India’s model functions as a de facto consociational system, which, like those in Lebanon or Bosnia, is designed to manage (and thus entrench) group divisions, not solve them. It also shares the "elite capture" flaw seen in South Africa's Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) program.

The report concludes that the state's "management trap" has structurally failed to address the social reality of caste, as evidenced by persistent untouchability and atrocities. It proposes a dual path forward: short-term reforms to the management system (implementing sub-classification and a creamy layer for SC/STs) and long-term structural changes aimed at annihilation (radical land reform, industrialization, and universalizing welfare programs). Finally, it calls for a philosophical shift in the state's guiding principle, moving beyond the bureaucratic management of "equality" to the active social, economic, and cultural creation of "fraternity", which Dr. Ambedkar defined as the true foundation of a casteless democracy.


Introduction: The Central Paradox of Caste and the Indian State


This report critically evaluates the proposition that the post-colonial Indian state, in its very design, substituted the radical goal of annihilation of caste for a pragmatic, and ultimately self-perpetuating, logic of caste management. The core argument under examination is that the state did not dismantle caste but rather absorbed it, transforming it from a social-religious hierarchy into a primary category of legal, bureaucratic, and political administration. This absorption, while intended to provide social justice, has arguably created a "management trap" that makes the original goal of annihilation structurally impossible.

At the heart of this analysis lies a fundamental conflict between two distinct projects:

  1. The Annihilation Project: This is the radical vision articulated most forcefully by Dr. B.R. Ambedkar in his seminal 1936 text, Annihilation of Caste. For Ambedkar, caste was not a mere "division of labour" but a "division of labourers", a system of "graded inequality". He argued that it was an ethical and moral catastrophe that destroyed "public spirit". Consequently, it could not be reformed. It had to be annihilated. This required nothing less than the "destruction of the religious notions upon which caste is founded", a direct assault on the shastras and scriptures that give the hierarchy its divine sanction. The ultimate goal was to create a society based on "liberty, equality, and fraternity," with fraternity being defined as "social endosmosis"—a "mode of associated living, of conjoint communicated experience" that caste, by its very nature, makes impossible.

  2. The Management Project: This is the pragmatic, and perhaps inevitable, path adopted by the Indian state. This approach, born of political compromise, accepts caste as a foundational and persistent social reality. Instead of launching a direct assault on its religious-ideological foundations, the state seeks to administer it to achieve "social justice". Its primary tools are not social revolution but administrative and legal instruments: creating official categories of "backwardness" (like Scheduled Castes, Scheduled Tribes, and Other Backward Classes); establishing legal quotas (reservations) in legislatures, public employment, and education; running a massive bureaucratic machinery to certify individual caste identity; and enacting punitive laws to police its most extreme symptom, "untouchability".

This report will trace the historical roots of this substitution, beginning with the foundational philosophical clashes between Ambedkar and Gandhi and the compromises made within the Constituent Assembly. It will then analyze the constitutional and bureaucratic architecture that codified this management logic, followed by an examination of the judicial refinements that have deepened it. The analysis will critically evaluate the political and social consequences of this system, weighing the arguments for representation against the charges of reification. Finally, by drawing on global parallels and assessing the roles of various stakeholders, this report will conclude by proposing a nuanced way forward to navigate this "management trap" toward the original, and as yet unrealized, goal of annihilation.


I. Historical Roots: The Foundational Compromise


The Indian state's decision to "manage" caste rather than "annihilate" it was not an accidental policy choice. It was a foundational compromise, forged in the decades-long freedom struggle and ultimately codified in the Constitution itself. This compromise reflects the deep ideological tension between the radical Ambedkarite project of social annihilation and the reformist-nationalist project of political independence.


1.1 The Ghost in the Machine: The Constituent Assembly Debates


The "original sin" of the Indian Constitution's approach to caste is embedded in the ambiguity of its most celebrated social reform provision: Article 17. This article, which emerged from Draft Article 11, makes a bold and unequivocal declaration: “‘Untouchability’ is abolished and its practice in any form is forbidden". This was a profound moral statement, championed by Dr. B.R. Ambedkar and other reformers, signaling the new republic's definitive break with a dehumanizing past.3

However, during the Constituent Assembly debates on November 29, 1948, several members raised a critical legal objection. Mr. Naziruddin Ahmad and Professor K.T. Shah pointed out that the term "untouchability" had no "legal definition". They warned that leaving such a crucial term undefined would lead to "future confusion" and endless litigation, as courts would struggle to determine what specific practices were being prohibited. Prof. Shah even proposed amendments to clarify its meaning.

Dr. Ambedkar, in his capacity as the Chairman of the Drafting Committee, rejected these amendments. While the exact reasons are a matter of interpretation, the political context is clear: the Assembly was eager to pass the moral declaration unanimously. Defining "untouchability" would have required defining caste (Svarnas) itself and its religious sanctions, a move that would have shattered the fragile consensus among the Assembly's diverse, and largely high-caste, membership.

This ambiguity was, therefore, a necessary political compromise that reveals the state's bifurcated logic. It allowed the reformers to claim a historic victory over a social evil while simultaneously avoiding a direct constitutional assault on the varna system (caste) itself. The Constitution thus abolished the symptom (untouchability) but remained silent on the disease (caste). This foundational contradiction—between Ambedkar the philosopher, who argued in Annihilation of Caste that untouchability is merely a symptom of the caste system, and Ambedkar the constitutional architect, who had to settle for a provision that addressed only the symptom—created the legal space for the state to pursue a policy of managing caste rather than abolishing it.


1.2 The Ambedkar-Gandhi Divide: The Poona Pact's Long Shadow


The compromises of the Constituent Assembly were themselves a product of a deeper, pre-constitutional philosophical battle that defined the state's future path: the clash between Dr. Ambedkar and Mahatma Gandhi.

Ambedkar's analysis was that political power was the prerequisite for social annihilation. His primary demand at the Second Round Table Conference was for separate electorates for the "Depressed Classes". This was not a separatist move; it was a demand for genuine political agency, allowing Dalits to elect their own representatives who would be accountable only to them, thereby giving them the power to dismantle the caste-Hindu social order from within the legislature.

Mahatma Gandhi vehemently opposed this, framing it as a "vivisection" of Hinduism. His approach was fundamentally reformist, not revolutionary. He sought to abolish untouchability, which he saw as a "sin" and a "stigma" on Hinduism, but he simultaneously defended an idealized varna system—a functional, non-hierarchical division of labor. Gandhi's project was to change the hearts of upper-caste Hindus, to persuade them to accept Dalits, whom he renamed "Harijans" (Children of God), back into the Hindu fold.

When the British granted Ambedkar's demand via the Communal Award, Gandhi began a "fast unto death". This act of political coercion forced Ambedkar to the negotiating table. The resulting Poona Pact (1932) was a "forced compromise". Ambedkar was compelled to surrender separate electorates. In their place, he received reserved seats within a joint electorate. This meant that while only a Dalit could stand for the reserved seat, they had to win the votes of all communities, including the dominant caste-Hindu majority.

This pact represents the precise origin point of the Indian state's "management" logic. It replaced a system of political independence (separate electorates) with a system of managed representation (reserved seats). This principle—of managing the political identity and representation of caste groups within the larger whole, rather than granting them the autonomous power to challenge that whole—became the default logic of the new Indian state. It provided the direct blueprint for the constitutional provisions for political reservations (Article 330) and, by extension, reservations in services and education.


1.3 The Nehruvian "Caste-Blind" State and Elite Ambivalence


The first post-colonial government, under Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, adopted an official ideology of "Nehruvian secularism". This vision was rooted in European enlightenment and socialist ideals. The belief was that in a modern, industrial, and democratic India, primordial identities like caste and religion would simply "wither away". The state's official policy, therefore, was one of "caste-blindness". Caste was seen as a relic of a feudal past, an obstacle to be overcome by scientific progress and national unity, not an entity to be engaged with by the state.

This ideological stance was reinforced by the political ambivalence of other key leaders. Sardar Vallabhbhai Patel, for instance, was instrumental in abolishing separate electorates for religious minorities in the Constituent Assembly and was deeply skeptical of reservations. He argued that reservations were a "poison" and that the Scheduled Castes needed to give up their "inferiority complex". While he accepted reservations for SCs/STs, he, like many others, viewed them as a temporary 10-year measure, a "necessary evil" that would soon be rendered obsolete.

This created a profound vacuum. The official "caste-blind" policy of the 1950s was a fiction that operated at the level of the state, while the social reality remained one of pervasive caste dominance. This "willed ignorance" , as sociologist Satish Deshpande would later term it, allowed upper-caste dominance to continue unchallenged, repackaging itself under the modern, secular guise of "merit". This vacuum ensured that when the state was forced to confront the persistent reality of caste-based inequality, the only policy tool it had—one forged in the Poona Pact and legitimized in the Constitution's "special provisions"—was the administrative one of reservations.


1.4 The Adivasi Counter-Narrative: The Ignored Voice of Jaipal Singh Munda


The flaw in the state's incipient "management" logic was exposed even during the Constituent Assembly debates by voices from outside the Hindu caste framework. Jaipal Singh Munda, an Adivasi (tribal) politician and Oxford-educated intellectual, represented the interests of India's indigenous populations.

In his powerful interventions, Munda explicitly rejected the "saviour complex" of the mainstream nationalist leaders. He was wary of their "safeguards" and, in a famous speech, declared, "You cannot teach democracy to the tribal people; you have to learn democratic ways from them. They are the most democratic people on earth". Munda's central argument was that Adivasis were not a "backward" caste. They were a distinct people, the original inhabitants of the land, whose primary problem was not ritual "untouchability" but expropriation, colonization, and the destruction of their cultural and economic autonomy.

Munda's critique reveals that even at its inception, the state's logic of "backwardness" was a flawed administrative convenience. By constitutionally lumping Scheduled Castes (whose problem was inclusion in a hierarchical system) and Scheduled Tribes (whose problem was exclusion and dispossession by that system) into a single framework of "backwardness" to be managed by the state 10, the Constitution fundamentally misdiagnosed the Adivasi question. It absorbed a political and economic problem of internal colonialism into a social-ritual framework of caste. This reinforces the central thesis: the state's primary impulse was categorization for management, not understanding for liberation.


II. The Constitutional and Bureaucratic Architecture of Caste Management


The historical and philosophical compromises of the 1930s and 1940s were transformed into a permanent legal and administrative structure in the 1950s. This architecture, built to "manage" the caste question, became the scaffolding that, according to the query's thesis, now makes annihilation impossible.


2.1 The Pivotal Moment: Dorairajan and the First Amendment


The Nehruvian state's "caste-blind" fiction collapsed almost immediately after the Constitution's adoption. In 1951, the Supreme Court delivered its judgment in State of Madras v. Champakam Dorairajan. The case challenged a 1927 Government Order (G.O.) in the Madras Presidency that provided for caste-based reservations in government jobs and college seats. The petitioner, an upper-caste woman, argued that this G.O. violated her Fundamental Right to equality under Article 15(1) (prohibiting discrimination on the basis of caste) and Article 29(2) (prohibiting denial of admission based on caste).

The Supreme Court upheld her claim. It ruled that the Fundamental Rights in Part III of the Constitution were sacrosanct and could not be overridden by the Directive Principles of State Policy (DPSP) in Part IV. The state's duty under Article 46 (to promote the educational and economic interests of SCs, STs, and weaker sections) was thus rendered unenforceable against the individual's right to formal equality.

This judgment created a constitutional crisis. The state's entire project of "social justice" for backward classes was deemed unconstitutional. The state's response to this crisis is the defining moment in the institutionalization of caste. The Nehru government did not, as its "caste-blind" ideology might have suggested, seek a new path of caste-neutral, needs-based upliftment. Instead, it chose legal engineering.

It immediately introduced the First Constitutional Amendment (1951), which inserted Article 15(4) into the Constitution. This new clause explicitly states: "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 the Scheduled Tribes".

This amendment formally and constitutionally absorbed caste into the state's logic. It legally overrode the principle of formal equality, carving out an exception that empowered the state to use caste as a category for administrative action. From this moment, "social justice" became constitutionally synonymous with "caste-based special provisions". The state, rather than launching a social-political campaign to challenge the caste-based social structure that produced inequality, amended the Constitution to make its administrative management of that inequality legal.


2.2 The Machinery of Enumeration: From Schedules to Commissions


The new legal power granted by Article 15(4) and the existing Article 16(4) (for employment) required a bureaucratic target. The state needed an official, legible map of the caste universe it now intended to manage. This set in motion the vast machinery of enumeration.

First, the Constitution itself, through Articles 341 and 342, created the foundational administrative categories of "Scheduled Castes" and "Scheduled Tribes". These articles grant the President (in consultation with Governors) the power to create the first "Schedules" (lists) of these groups, and grant Parliament the power to amend these lists. This was a profound act of statecraft: it transformed fluid, complex, and localized social groups (jatis) into rigid, state-defined administrative blocs. An individual's access to constitutional protection was no longer based on their lived social experience of discrimination, but on their community's inclusion in a government document.

Second, the state had to identify the "socially and educationally backward classes" (SEBCs), or Other Backward Classes (OBCs), mentioned in Article 15(4).

  • The Kalelkar Commission (1953): This was the first attempt. Appointed under Article 340, the First Backward Classes Commission, led by Kaka Kalelkar, was tasked with identifying these groups. The commission adopted caste as its primary criterion for determining "backwardness". However, its report was rejected by the Nehru government in 1961. The government was still ideologically wedded to the "caste-blind" ideal and feared the political ramifications of nationally entrenching caste as a basis for benefits.

  • The Mandal Commission (1979): The "management" logic, however, proved inexorable. In 1979, the Janata Party government appointed the Second Backward Classes Commission, chaired by B.P. Mandal. The Mandal Commission succeeded where Kalelkar failed. It used caste as the primary lens, identifying 1,257 communities as backward. Its 1980 report estimated that OBCs constituted 52% of the population. Constrained by the Supreme Court's 50% cap on total reservations (which included the 22.5% for SC/STs), the commission recommended a 27% quota for OBCs in government jobs and educational institutions.

  • The Mandal Implementation (1990): The report was shelved for a decade until 1990, when Prime Minister V.P. Singh announced its implementation. This decision triggered a political explosion. It led to massive, violent anti-reservation protests by upper-caste students and fundamentally reshaped Indian politics. This "Mandalisation" of politics destroyed the old Congress-led "caste-blind" consensus and cemented caste as the primary axis of political mobilization in North India.

Through this process, the state fully assumed the role of paramount arbiter of caste status. It ossified social identities by creating a high-stakes political battle, not for the annihilation of caste, but for inclusion in the state's lists of "backward" castes.


2.3 The Bureaucratic Life of Caste: The Certificate and the Commissions


This macro-level legal and political framework is operationalized at the micro-level through a vast, permanent bureaucracy, demonstrating the "management" thesis in its most tangible form.

The key instrument of this logic is the "caste certificate". This document is the legal tender of the reservation system, the official paper that translates a person from a social being into a legal-bureaucratic subject eligible for state benefits. The process of obtaining this certificate is famously arduous and bureaucratic, requiring applicants to produce extensive documentation to prove their identity, lineage, and address.

This process creates a profound contradiction. For many of the most marginalized individuals, the bureaucracy itself becomes a barrier to the very benefits they are owed. As documented in field reports, the process can be deeply humiliating. Applicants from nomadic or tribal communities, for example, may be asked to perform their "traditional" (and often stigmatized) occupation, such as handling pigs, or describe their specific rituals to "prove" their caste identity to a state official. This is the management trap in its most perverse form: to escape the stigma of one's caste, one must first perform and prove that stigma to the satisfaction of the state.

This system has also spawned a massive state apparatus dedicated to policing the boundaries of these categories. This includes:

  • Constitutional Commissions: The National Commission for Scheduled Castes (NCSC) and the National Commission for Backward Classes (NCBC), which was given constitutional status by the 102nd Amendment. These bodies investigate complaints, monitor safeguards, and advise on the inclusion/exclusion of communities.

  • Scrutiny Committees: State-level committees tasked with verifying the authenticity of caste certificates and detecting fraud. This has created a parallel legal world of verification, allegations, and litigation.

The existence of this permanent, powerful bureaucracy reveals the true nature of the state's project. The goal is no longer social change; it is administrative accuracy and gatekeeping. The bureaucracy's success is measured not by the reduction of caste consciousness, but by the accurate distribution of certificates and the prevention of fraud. This bureaucratic logic, as argued by scholars, has a vested interest in maintaining the very categories it is built to manage. It requires every citizen to have a fixed, permanent, and state-certified caste identity, thus making annihilation a structural impossibility.


Table 1: The Constitutional Bifurcation of Caste Policy



Constitutional Provision

Guiding Philosophy

Core Logic

Implicit Goal

State's Role

Article 17

Abolitionism / Annihilation

Defines "untouchability" as a crime to be punished and abolished. It is a negative liberty, telling the state and society what not to do.

A "casteless" society where the category is legally and socially erased.

Punitive: Policing social behavior.

Art 15(4), 16(4), 340-342

Administrative Redress / Management

Defines "backwardness" as a condition to be managed through "special provisions" (quotas). It is a positive right, telling the state what it must do.

A "caste-equitable" society where state resources are distributed proportionally among existing caste categories.

Administrative & Distributive: Enumerating, certifying, and distributing quotas.


III. The Judicial Refinement: Perpetuating the Logic of Management


If the legislature and bureaucracy built the architecture of caste management, the Indian judiciary became its chief refiner. Over decades, the Supreme Court, rather than questioning the fundamental premise of using caste as an administrative category, has focused on fine-tuning the rules of its application. This judicial refinement has, in effect, legitimized and deepened the state's management logic, pushing it to its most granular and paradoxical extremes.


3.1 The Architect of Management: Indra Sawhney and its Legacy


The 1992 landmark nine-judge bench decision in Indra Sawhney & Others v. Union of India, or the Mandal case, is the single most important document in the state's "management" thesis. Responding to the nationwide protests against the Mandal Commission's implementation, the Supreme Court was tasked with rationalizing the entire reservation framework.

The Court's judgment was a masterclass in managerial compromise. First, it upheld the 27% OBC quota, legally affirming the Mandal Commission's central finding: that caste is an acceptable (and in the Indian context, primary) indicator and proxy for "socially and educationally backwardness". This legally sealed the logic of the Mandal Commission and solidified the state's caste-based administrative project.

Second, having affirmed the premise, the Court introduced two crucial managerial principles to refine its application:

  1. The 50% Ceiling: The Court ruled that total reservations (SC, ST, and OBC combined) should not, as a rule, exceed 50%.6 This was not a principle derived from the text of the Constitution, but a "rule of prudence" invented by the Court to balance the state's social justice mandate (Art. 15(4)/16(4)) with the formal "equality of opportunity" for the "general" (i.e., non-reserved) category.

  2. The "Creamy Layer": The Court mandated the exclusion of the "socially advanced" members from the OBC category, known as the "creamy layer". It argued that for reservations to be just, their benefits must flow to the genuinely backward members of a class, not those who had already achieved social and economic advancement.

In this judgment, the judiciary did not act as a challenger to the state's logic; it acted as its chief administrator. It did not question whether caste should be the basis for state action, but rather how it should be applied, how much was permissible, and who within the category should be eligible. Indra Sawhney cemented the state's role as the micro-manager of caste equity, and the judiciary as the ultimate refiner of that management manual.


3.2 Managing "Graded Inequality": The New Era of Sub-Classification


In recent years, the judiciary has pushed this management logic to its ultimate conclusion, internalizing Ambedkar's own concept of "graded inequality" not as a problem to be annihilated, but as an administrative challenge to be managed. The state is no longer just managing the boundaries between SCs, OBCs, and the General Category; it is now managing the intricate hierarchies within those categories.

The trajectory began with reservations in promotions. In M. Nagaraj v. Union of India (2006), the Court upheld reservations in promotion for SC/STs but imposed "compelling requirements" on the state: it had to prove the community's current backwardness, inadequate representation, and the need to maintain "administrative efficiency". This was a heavily data-driven, managerial framework.

The logic deepened in Jarnail Singh v. Lachhmi Narain Gupta (2018). Here, the Court did two things: it struck down the "current backwardness" test from Nagaraj (stating SC/STs are presumptively backward) but, in its place, it introduced the "creamy layer" principle for SC/STs in promotions. This was a radical step, as the creamy layer had previously only applied to OBCs. The Court argued that "the benefits of reservation... are being cornered by the creamy layer" and that failure to exclude them would treat "unequals... equally".

This culminated in the 2024 seven-judge bench decision in State of Punjab v. Davinder Singh. This case reviewed the 2004 E.V. Chinnaiah ruling, which had held that SCs/STs were a "homogenous group" and could not be sub-divided. The Davinder Singh bench overturned this. It held that states can constitutionally create sub-classifications within the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes lists. This was done to validate a Punjab law that gave "first preference" in reservations to the Balmikis and Mazhabi Sikhs, who are considered the most backward within the Dalit community.

This judgment is the reductio ad absurdum of the state's management logic and the ultimate proof of the query's thesis. To fight Ambedkar's "graded inequality," the state's legal-bureaucratic apparatus is now constitutionally validating and administratively measuring the precise grades of that inequality. The state is no longer just managing SC vs. General; it is now legally and administratively managing Balmiki vs. Chamar. This is the absolute opposite of annihilation; it is the deepest possible legal and administrative reification of caste.


3.3 The Dominant Caste Counter-Attack: The EWS (103rd) Amendment


The final step in the evolution of the state's management logic has been its co-optation by dominant castes. The 103rd Constitutional Amendment (2019) introduced a 10% reservation for "Economically Weaker Sections" (EWS) in employment and education.

This amendment fundamentally altered the constitutional logic of reservation in three ways:

  1. It introduced economic criteria as the sole basis for reservation for the first time.

  2. It explicitly excluded members of SC, ST, and OBC communities from its benefits, making it, in effect, a quota for the "general category".

  3. It breached the 50% ceiling established in Indra Sawhney, and the Supreme Court upheld this breach in Janhit Abhiyan v. Union of India.

The EWS quota represents the successful hijacking of the language of social justice by dominant castes. It accomplishes two things: First, it delinks reservation from its original constitutional justification, which was to provide redress for social backwardness and historical discrimination. It transforms reservation into a poverty alleviation program, but one that is available only to those who have not faced historical caste-based discrimination.

Second, it serves to placate the long-standing anxieties of dominant castes who felt "left out" of the state's spoils system. As scholars like Satish Deshpande have argued, this amendment may represent the antyeshti (last rites) of reservation as a tool for caste redress. By universalizing quotas based on economic criteria, the state has completed the transformation of reservation from a specific tool for annihilating hierarchy into a general-purpose political tool for managing economic discontent across all caste blocs.


Table 2: Key Judicial Interventions and Constitutional Amendments on Reservation



Year / Case / Amendment

Key Ruling / Provision

Impact on the State's Administrative Logic

1951: State of Madras v. Dorairajan

Struck down caste-based reservations, holding that Fundamental Rights (formal equality) override Directive Principles (social justice).

(Challenged Logic): Temporarily halted the management logic, upholding "caste-blind" formal equality.

1951: 1st Amendment (Art 15(4))

Inserted Art. 15(4), empowering the state to make "special provisions" for SC/ST/SEBCs, overriding formal equality.

(Codified Logic): Constitutionally entrenched the management logic. Made caste a legal basis for state action.

1992: Indra Sawhney v. Union of India

Upheld 27% OBC quota; affirmed caste as a proxy for "backwardness"; established the 50% ceiling and "creamy layer" for OBCs.

(Refined Logic): Acted as an administrator. Legitimated the premise of caste-based action while creating managerial rules (ceilings, exclusions) to balance interests.

2006: M. Nagaraj v. Union of India

Upheld reservations in promotion for SC/STs but imposed "compelling requirements" on the state to prove current backwardness and inadequacy of representation with "quantifiable data".

(Bureaucratized Logic): Deepened the managerial role by requiring a complex, data-driven bureaucratic exercise for implementation.

2018: Jarnail Singh v. Lachhmi Narain Gupta

Struck down the "current backwardness" test from Nagaraj but applied the "creamy layer" principle to SC/STs in promotions.

(Internalized Logic): Began the process of managing inequality within the SC/ST bloc, applying an economic filter to a social category.

2019: 103rd (EWS) Amendment

Introduced 10% quota based solely on economic criteria for those not covered by SC/ST/OBC quotas.

(Co-opted Logic): Delinked reservation from its original justification (social discrimination) and turned it into a general economic distribution tool, co-opted by dominant castes.

2024: State of Punjab v. Davinder Singh

Allowed states to create sub-classifications within SC and ST lists to prioritize the "most backward".

(Hyper-Refined Logic): The management logic reaches its zenith. The state now administratively manages "graded inequality", reifying intra-caste hierarchies.


IV. Arguments and Stakeholders: The Politics of Reification vs. Representation


The state's transformation of caste into a bureaucratic category has created a deeply contentious political and social field. The query's central thesis—that this logic makes annihilation impossible—sits at the center of a debate between those who see the state's policies as a necessary tool for justice and those who see it as a "cunning" ploy that perpetuates the system.


4.1 The Case for the State's Logic (The "Justice" Argument)


The primary defense of the state's reservation system is that it is the only viable mechanism for achieving substantive equality in a society defined by formal inequality. This argument posits that a "caste-blind" constitution in a "caste-conscious" society is a

façade that merely perpetuates dominant-caste privilege.129 The Indian Supreme Court itself has affirmed this, noting that "The Constitution of India is not caste-blind".129

From this perspective, the state's "management" logic is, in fact, a necessary project of redistributive justice and representation. The argument is not that reservations are a "poverty alleviation" program; rather, they are a tool to remedy millennia of structural exclusion. The goal is to ensure that historically marginalized communities, who were denied access to education, power, and dignity, are present in the nation's classrooms, its bureaucracy, and its legislatures. This representation is seen as an end in itself, a necessary precondition for dismantling structural privilege and ensuring that the voices of the oppressed are included in decision-making.

Evidence suggests this policy, despite its flaws, has had tangible successes. It has been instrumental in the creation of a Dalit and OBC middle class, which, while small, provides crucial leadership and social capital. Studies on social mobility, while showing persistent gaps, also indicate that reservations have improved educational attainment and upward mobility for some SC/ST individuals. At the local level, research has shown that when village council (Panchayat) headships are reserved for SC leaders, the allocation of public goods and resources measurably shifts in favor of SC communities. For defenders of this system, these gains are proof that management, while imperfect, is the only practical path toward justice.


4.2 The Critical Case (The "Annihilationist" Argument)


The counter-argument, which aligns with the query's thesis, is that this entire "management" framework is a historical trap that has prevented annihilation.

This critique is articulated forcefully by Dalit intellectuals. Anand Teltumbde argues that the state's "cunning" logic was a deliberate strategy by the post-colonial ruling classes. Reservations, in his view, were a "token remedy" offered to buy off the revolutionary potential of the anti-caste movement. By trading the radical demand for annihilation (which would require dismantling the Hindu social order and radically redistributing economic power) for a "mess of pottage" in the form of quotas, the state preserved caste as a "potent tool to manipulate the masses".

Sociologist Satish Deshpande provides a key theoretical framework for understanding how this logic functions, using the concept of asymmetrical identity. The state's system, he argues, forces the disprivileged (Dalits, Adivasis, OBCs) to intensify and perform their caste identity to make claims on the state. Their identity is "caste-marked." In contrast, the privileged upper castes are enabled to "monopolise the 'general category' by posing as 'casteless' citizens". This "caste-blindness" of the elite is not a sign of progress; it is the ultimate marker of their privilege—the privilege of not having to think about caste. This asymmetry allows them to frame their structural advantages as "merit," and to frame reservations as an "anti-merit" assault on their "casteless" domain.

This administrative logic inevitably spills into the political sphere. The state's enumeration of caste blocs creates "vote-banks". Caste enumeration and promises of inclusion in reservation lists become the primary tools for political mobilization. This creates a political class across all parties, including the BJP, Congress, Samajwadi Party, and Bahujan Samaj Party that has a vested interest in the persistence of caste identities as legible, manipulable political units. As the political theorist Gopal Guru has argued, this entire edifice is not a "serious struggle against inequality" but rather the "management of inequality".


4.3 Stakeholder Dynamics and Power


This "management trap" is sustained by a complex ecosystem of stakeholders whose interests have become deeply, if contradictorily, invested in the system.

  • The State (Bureaucracy & Political Class): Acts as the paramount manager and arbiter. Its primary interest is not social transformation (which is destabilizing) but legibility and political stability. It seeks to manage competing caste blocs, placating them with quotas and commissions. The bureaucracy, in particular, has an institutional interest in the permanence of the categories it is built to administer.

  • Dominant Castes (Jats, Marathas, Patidars): This group's strategy is the most telling. Having initially resisted the management system (e.g., the violent anti-Mandal protests), they have now adapted and co-opted its logic. Their modern political agitations are no longer to abolish reservation, but to demand inclusion in the OBC category. This is the logical end-point of the state's framework: when economic anxieties (driven by agrarian distress and a lack of jobs) can only be politically articulated in the language of caste, every group must become a "backward" caste to make a claim on the state.

  • Dalit-Bahujan Political Parties (e.g., Bahujan Samaj Party - BSP): These parties are a direct product of the state's management logic. Their strategy, pioneered by Kanshi Ram, is to use the caste consciousness and "vote-banks" created by the state to mobilize the "Bahujan" (majority) and capture state power. This creates the central political dilemma of the anti-caste movement: their political success depends on the very caste consciousness that Ambedkar, their chief icon, sought to annihilate. The political project of representation (capturing power) often overtakes the social project of annihilation (dismantling identity).

  • Annihilationist & Dalit Intellectuals (Teltumbde, Guru, etc.): This group critiques all other stakeholders. They critique the state for its "cunning" co-optation, the dominant castes for their hijacking of the system, and the Dalit political parties for their "reformist" compromise and failure to pursue a truly "transformative" or "annihilationist" agenda. They argue that the reservation system has failed the Dalit masses and has been co-opted by a small "creamy layer," becoming a tool of "elite capture".


Table 3: Stakeholder Positions on the State's Caste Logic



Stakeholder

Primary Goal

View on Reservation System

Key Action/Strategy

The State (Political/Bureaucratic Class)

Management & Stability: Maintain political stability by managing group demands.

Primary tool of governance: The state's main lever for distributing resources and managing social conflict.

Bureaucratization: Create commissions, lists, and refined categories (EWS, Sub-classification).

Dominant Castes (Jats, Marathas, Patidars)

Resource Co-optation: Secure state benefits to alleviate economic anxieties.

A system to be expanded: A legitimate "spoils system" that they must now be included in.

Political Agitation: Hold massive protests to demand inclusion in the OBC category.

Dalit-Bahujan Political Parties (e.g., BSP)

Capture State Power: Unite marginalized "vote-banks" to win elections.

The primary tool for empowerment: The non-negotiable right of representation and share in power.

Caste-based Mobilization: Reinforce "Bahujan" identity as a political bloc to counter upper-caste hegemony.

Annihilationist Intellectuals (e.g., Teltumbde)

Annihilation: Achieve the true Ambedkarite goal of destroying the caste structure.

A "Token Remedy": A "cunning" co-optation by the state that prevents radical transformation and benefits only an elite.

Systemic Critique: Expose the "management trap" and the co-optation of all other stakeholders.


V. Global Parallels in Managing Group Identity


The Indian state's model of caste management, while unique in its scale and complexity, is not without global parallels. Comparing it to other state-led efforts to manage deep-seated social divisions—based on race, ethnicity, or religion—illuminates the structural flaws and inherent tendencies of such systems.


5.1 USA vs. India: "Color-Blind" vs. "Caste-Conscious" Constitutionalism


The most common comparison is between India's reservation system and Affirmative Action (AA) in the United States. Both policies were designed to remedy systemic, historical discrimination against a specific group (caste in India, race in the US). However, their legal and philosophical foundations diverge dramatically.

  • Mechanism: US Affirmative Action (prior to its 2023 dismantling in higher education) was generally interpreted by the Supreme Court to ban rigid quotas. Instead, it allowed race to be used as one "plus factor" among many in a holistic admissions process. India's system, in contrast, is defined by rigid, constitutionally-mandated quotas.

  • Ideology: The core ideological difference lies in their constitutional self-perception. The US legal ideal, as famously articulated by Chief Justice John Roberts, is "color-blindness": "The way to stop discrimination on the basis of race is to stop discriminating on the basis of race". The Indian Supreme Court, by contrast, has explicitly rejected this philosophy, stating, "The Constitution of India is not caste-blind".129

This divergence has led the two nations down opposite paths. In the 2023 Students for Fair Admissions (SFFA) v. Harvard case, the US Supreme Court dismantled race-conscious admissions. The majority opinion argued that such programs, by using race as a category, were themselves discriminatory, "pernicious," and reliant on stereotypes. In stark contrast, just one year later in 2024, the Indian Supreme Court in Davinder Singh deepened its caste-conscious system to an unprecedented, granular level by authorizing sub-classification within the Scheduled Castes.

This comparison is revealing. The American critique of "color-blindness" as a disingenuous fiction that masks white privilege is theoretically identical to Satish Deshpande's critique of "caste-blindness" in India. However, the US has chosen to resolve this tension by legally enforcing the fiction of blindness, while India has resolved it by deepening the administrative reality of consciousness.


5.2 South Africa's BEE: A Cautionary Tale of "Elite Capture"


A more direct structural parallel to India's reservation system is South Africa's Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) policy. Both are sweeping, constitutionally-mandated affirmative action programs designed to redress the inequalities of a systemic, identity-based hierarchy (Apartheid and caste).

In fact, South Africa's Broad-Based Black Economic Empowerment (BBBEE) is arguably more radical and comprehensive than India's system. While Indian reservations are largely confined to the public sector (government jobs and education), BBBEE applies to the entire economy. It uses a "scorecard" to incentivize or compel private companies to contribute to empowerment through quotas in ownership, management control, skills development, and preferential procurement.

The critique of BEE, however, serves as a powerful cautionary tale and a validation of the "creamy layer" debate in India. The most persistent and damaging criticism of BEE is that it has failed to uplift the black masses. Instead, it has been widely accused of "elite capture"—creating a small, politically connected black elite that benefits from "BEE deals" and "crony capitalism" while the majority remains in poverty. This outcome is identical to the critique leveled by scholars like Gopal Guru and the logic behind the Jarnail Singh judgment: that without internal checks, state-led redress systems have a natural tendency to be captured by the most "forward" members of the beneficiary group, who then have little interest in broader, structural change.


5.3 India as a de facto Consociational State


The most powerful, though less obvious, theoretical parallel for India's "management" system is consociationalism. This is a model of political science, most famously applied to countries like Lebanon, Belgium, Bosnia, and Northern Ireland, to explain how deeply divided societies can maintain political stability.

Consociationalism is a system designed explicitly to manage (not solve) deep ethnic, religious, or linguistic divisions. It functions by:

  1. Forming a "grand coalition" of elites from all major groups.

  2. Guaranteeing each group (or "pillar") proportional representation in the legislature, cabinet, and public services.

  3. Providing "segmental autonomy," allowing each group to manage its own cultural affairs.

  4. Granting "mutual veto" power to minority groups on critical issues.

India's system of caste-based reservations, political quotas (for SC/STs), community-specific personal laws, and "vote-bank" political mobilization functions as a de facto consociationalism. The state, rather than forging a single national identity, acts as a broker, managing the competing interests of its "pillars" (in this case, caste and religious blocs).

The critique of consociationalism is the perfect articulation of the query's thesis. Critics argue that consociationalism fails to solve conflict and instead entrenches and institutionalizes the very divisions it claims to manage. It makes segmental identities the only relevant identities for political and state action, causing the "pillars" to "biodegrade" much more slowly, if at all. It leads to gridlock, corruption, and state dysfunction, as every decision is filtered through the lens of group proportion.

By operating as a de facto consociational state, India's constitutional and bureaucratic logic is one of management. The system's goal is the stable co-existence of caste blocs, not their annihilation. This makes annihilation structurally impossible by design.


Table 4: Comparative Models of State Redress



Country / Model

Basis of Identity

Primary Mechanism

Dominant Critique

India (Caste Reservation)

Caste: Legally defined, administrative categories (SC, ST, OBC).

Fixed Quotas: In public sector employment, education, and legislatures.

Reifies Identity & Elite Capture: Prevents annihilation, entrenches "vote-bank" politics, benefits "creamy layer".

USA (Affirmative Action)

Race: Socially and visually defined categories.

"Plus Factors": (Pre-SFFA) Holistic review in admissions; quotas are banned.

"Reverse Discrimination": Violates "color-blind" ideal; stereotypes beneficiaries; (now ruled unconstitutional in education).

South Africa (BEE)

Race: Legally defined categories (Africans, Coloureds, Indians).

Quotas, Ownership & Procurement: Applies to public and private sectors via a "scorecard".

"Elite Capture" & Cronyism: Has created a small, politically connected black elite, failing the masses.

Lebanon (Consociationalism)

Religion / Sect: 18 officially recognized sects.

Proportional Power-Sharing: All state posts (President, PM, Speaker, etc.) are allocated by sectarian quota.

Entrenches Division & Dysfunction: Freezes identities in place; leads to gridlock, corruption, and state failure.


VI. Conclusion and A Nuanced Way Forward



6.1 Recapping the Thesis: The Management Trap and its Failures


The evidence and analysis presented in this report substantially validate the thesis that "The Indian state has made the annihilation of caste structurally impossible by absorbing caste into its constitutional and bureaucratic logic instead of dismantling it."

The historical record shows this was a choice. Stemming from the Poona Pact's "managed representation" and codified by the First Amendment's response to the Dorairajan judgment, the nascent Indian state chose to manage caste as an administrative category rather than annihilate it as a social-religious ideology. It opted for the administrative distribution of quotas over the radical social, economic, and religious reforms that Dr. Ambedkar, in his Annihilation of Caste, had argued were the only true solution.

This "management logic" has had profound, self-perpetuating consequences:

  • It reified caste, transforming fluid social jatis into rigid, permanent, state-certified legal blocs.

  • It created a "management trap", where the state's success is measured by the administrative accuracy of its quota distribution, not the social reduction of caste consciousness.

  • It fueled divisive "vote-bank" politics, making caste identity the primary currency of political mobilization.

  • It co-opted all stakeholders, including dominant castes (who now demand inclusion) and Dalit-Bahujan political movements (whose electoral success now depends on the persistence of caste consciousness).

  • It culminated in the hyper-management of Davinder Singh, where the state now legally validates and administers the "graded inequality" within Dalit communities, the very structure Ambedkar sought to destroy.

The ultimate proof of this system's failure is that the social reality of caste remains brutally intact, entirely insulated from the state's administrative tinkering. The state's punitive "abolitionist" arm (Article 17 and the Prevention of Atrocities Act) is overwhelmed by its "managerial" arm. The persistence of widespread untouchability, the rising tide of documented atrocities, and the routine use of social and economic boycotts against Dalits who defy the hierarchy are all proof that managing caste has done nothing to dislodge its power. The state's logic has been reified, while its purpose has been lost.


6.2 Short-Term Practical Reforms (Reforming the Management)


To acknowledge the "management trap" is not to suggest that the reservation system—the only tool for justice currently available should be summarily abolished. This would be a catastrophic error, akin to taking away a crutch from a person who has been structurally disabled, leaving them with nothing. The immediate goal must be to make the "management" system fairer and more effective at achieving its limited goal of representation.

  1. Embrace and Implement Managerial Refinement: The state must accept and implement the principles of Jarnail Singh and Davinder Singh.16 To combat the "elite capture" that plagues the system, it must:

  • Implement a "Creamy Layer" for SC/STs: Use quantifiable data to apply an economic ceiling for SC/ST reservations, particularly in promotions and elite educational institutions, to ensure benefits are not "cornered" by a small, advanced section.

  • Implement Sub-Classification: Use robust empirical data (like the Bihar Caste Survey) to identify the "most backward" groups within the SC, ST, and OBC lists (like the "Most Backward Classes" or MBCs) and provide them with a "first preference" or a "quota within a quota". This is an essential step to ensure the "management" system actually serves the most marginalized.

  1. Strengthen Punitive Justice: The state must radically strengthen its "abolitionist" arm to give Article 17 real teeth. This requires reversing the judicial and police dilution of the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act. Atrocities must be treated not as "regular" crimes but as acts of terror against the constitutional order, requiring mandatory, time-bound investigations, dedicated prosecutors, and judicial sensitization.


6.3 Long-Term Structural Changes (Moving Toward Annihilation)


These management reforms are necessary, but they are not sufficient. They refine the trap, they do not dismantle it. A genuine "way forward" must pair these reforms with a long-term strategy aimed at annihilation.

  1. Implement Ambedkar's Economic Program: The state must revive Ambedkar's true solution, which was primarily economic. In States and Minorities, he argued for the annihilation of caste through the annihilation of its economic foundation.

  • Land Reform: The state must pursue radical land redistribution to break the economic-feudal power of dominant castes in rural India, which is the engine of most atrocities.

  • Industrialization and Urbanization: The state must pivot from a quota-based economy to one of massive state-led investment in industrialization, quality public education, and urbanization.34 Ambedkar saw this as the true solvent of caste, as it would "snap the link" between caste and occupation, and move Dalits from a state of village-based dependence to one of urban anonymity and economic independence. The current "Dalit Capitalism" model is insufficient, as it risks creating a new elite without the "social democracy" Ambedkar insisted was the prerequisite.

  1. Dismantle the Ideology (Education & Social Reform): The state must actively enter the cultural battle it has so far avoided.

  • Educational Reform: The curriculum in state schools must move beyond tokenistic "social justice" lessons and be reformed to include a direct, critical attack on the religious and philosophical foundations of caste hierarchy.

  • Promote Inter-Caste Marriage: Ambedkar identified inter-caste marriage as a key "solvent of caste". The state must move beyond merely "protecting" (which it often fails to do) such couples and begin actively promoting and incentivizing them through significant financial benefits, housing priority, and public honors.

  1. De-link Welfare from Caste: The state must create robust, universal social welfare programs—universal basic income, high-quality public healthcare, and world-class public education—that are not linked to caste identity. This would achieve two goals: First, it would alleviate the economic desperation that fuels the demands for inclusion in reservation lists by all groups, including dominant castes. Second, it would allow the reservation system to be scaled back and refocused on its original, limited purpose: ensuring political and social representation for historically excluded groups, rather than acting as a failed, all-purpose welfare system.


6.4 The Guiding Moral-Philosophical Principle: From Equality to Fraternity


The final argument is philosophical. The Indian state, its judiciary, and its political class have been trapped by a narrow, "compartmentalized" definition of "equality" as proportional representation. The entire national debate has been reduced to a bureaucratic quarrel over the precise percentage of quotas.

A true path forward requires elevating the third and most neglected promise of the Preamble: Fraternity.

Dr. Ambedkar, in his final speech to the Constituent Assembly, defined fraternity as the "principal"

goal. He argued that without it, liberty and equality were "no deeper than coats of paint." For him, fraternity was not a vague sentiment but a precise social condition: "social endosmosis," the "mode of associated living, of conjoint communicated experience" between all members of a society. It is "essentially an attitude of respect and reverence towards fellowmen".

Caste is the antithesis of fraternity. It is a system designed to prevent social endosmosis, to block conjoint communicated experience, and to institutionalize disrespect. The state's management logic, by building and policing high, permanent walls between administrative caste categories, has structurally blocked the possibility of fraternity.

A genuine solution, therefore, must shift the state's guiding principle. It must move from the bureaucratic management of equality, which has only reified division, to the active social, economic, and cultural creation of fraternity. Only when the state's policies are judged not by "how well they manage caste," but by "how much they dissolve it" and foster social endosmosis, can the annihilation of caste, however postponed, finally become structurally possible.

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