SHOULD THE State treat Dalits in one way if they happen to be Muslims or Christians, and in another way if they happen to be Hindus, Sikhs or Buddhists? Yes, says our Constitution today, but it did not always say so. At its inception in 1950, it recognised only Hindu Dalits (plus, if truth be told, four Sikh Dalit castes). Six years later, the relevant constitutional order was amended to include all Sikh Dalits. In the same year, 1956, Babasaheb Ambedkar inspired his (Hindu) followers to convert to Buddhism, effectively renouncing their legal status as Scheduled Castes. It took another 34 years for the Constitutional Order to be amended yet again in 1990 to include Dalit converts to Buddhism.
If the Constitution is a changing document (94 amendments already and counting!), and if the Scheduled Castes Order has already been altered twice on this issue, why can’t it be amended again to include Dalit Muslims and Christians? On what grounds are they excluded and the others included in the official category? The Constitution is silent on such questions because, like most laws, it records the outcomes of political contestations, not their contents. That is why the reasons and justifications must be sought elsewhere, in the realms of politics, policy, law and religion.
The religious aspect is easiest to settle: if Christianity and Islam do not recognise caste, neither do Sikhism or Buddhism. Indeed, Buddhism has a considerable reputation as the earliest protest movement against caste society. If scriptural sanction is the criterion, only Hinduism (and by extension, only Hindu Dalits) will qualify. Treating equally non-casteist religions differently makes no sense. Nor is it reasonable to go by scriptural prescription alone —surely it is actual practice that should count.
This is exactly the stance taken by the courts. As the 1985 verdict in the Soosai case has established, the Supreme Court accepts that ‘caste survives conversion’ — i.e., change of religion does not erase the earlier caste identity of the convert. What it asks for is evidence establishing the continuation of the disabilities imposed by caste identity.
COULD THIS be the reason — the lack of data demonstrating the caste disabilities of Dalit Muslims and Christians? A recent study commissioned by the National Commission for Minorities (NCM) tackles this very question. It provides a summary of the social scientific evidence on the economic and social status of Dalit Christians and Muslims from the past three decades. The study (full text available at NCM website) finds that economic differences among Dalits of different religions become visible only for the top 25 percent or so — three quarters of all Dalits are indistinguishable in terms of living standards. Moreover, Dalit Muslims are generally the worst off among all Dalits although they have no recognition; and while Dalits Christians are not the worst off, they are often worse off than Sikh Dalits who do have recognition. Thus, if relative deprivation is the criterion, then there is no rational reason for excluding either Muslim or Christian Dalits.
Discrimination is a more difficult question because it is harder to document. But even here the available evidence is clear and plentiful: Dalits are treated as a separate and inferior group in every religious community. They are forced to have separate places of worship and separate burial grounds. Like their Hindu counterparts, they are required to show marks of deference to the upper castes and are generally excluded from social interactions and specially marriage alliances. Regardless of religion, the Dalit vs non-Dalit divide is the “hardest” boundary in every community, where transgressions attract the harshest punishment.
The study notes that there are significant variations in the patterns of anti-Dalit discrimination across classes, regions, sectors, occupations and other groupings. But since this is true of all Dalits, it cannot justify treating Dalit Muslims and Christians differently. Finally, the study emphasises the direct link between lack of recognition and lack of evidence, given that data (especially macro data) follows from official recognition and cannot precede it.
IF THE only good reason to treat any Dalit (or other) group differently — the absence of discrimination and deprivation — is absent, then are there any other policy reasons for doing so? Could a ‘lifeboat’ type of argument be made — that adding Muslims and Christians will overwhelm existing arrangements and sink the reservation lifeboat? Although Dalit Muslims and especially Dalit Christians are severely undercounted due to non-recognition, it is hard to see them rocking the boat, let alone sinking it. Together, they seem to form roughly 1.6 percent of the Dalit population, over 90 percent of which is Hindu. Even if this estimate were multiplied by 3 or 4, we still end up with a 5-6 percent increase in the number of recognised Dalits; hardly an avalanche.
Bureaucrats often argue that, somehow, ‘identifying’ Christian or Muslim Dalits will be very difficult, but it is hard to see how this could be any more so than the many complex things the bureaucracy already does. Finally, it needs to be pointed out that general arguments against reservation — that it is not effective, or that it is not the best method of advancing Dalit interests — are irrelevant in the context of differential treatment of Muslims and Christians.
Having exhausted the fields of religion, law and policy, we come to the complex and decisive field of politics. If rumours are to be believed, many politicians representing already recognised Dalit groups are not very keen on granting recognition to Christian and Muslim Dalits. On the other hand, there are many political groups and NGOs campaigning actively for inclusion. While such internal differences will have to be tackled through political persuasion, it is worth addressing one recurrent fear often expressed by opponents. This is the anxiety that Dalit Christians in particular will ‘corner’ most benefits, specially those involving educational credentials.
It is noteworthy in this regard that while urban Dalit Christians do indeed have a relatively high proportion of graduates and diploma holders, the proportion among urban Dalit Buddhists is even higher. In fact, in the rural sector, the Dalit Buddhist proportion of graduates is three times the figure for Dalit Christians! These numbers will need further checking and contextualisation, but the more important argument is that disproportionate ‘cornering’ is already a problem among both Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes (to say nothing of ‘others’, where it’s taken for granted). Ways to deal with such problems equitably will have to be found urgently, regardless of the possible entry of Dalit Christians — successful solutions can be applied to them as well if necessary.
This leaves the final issue of the politics of religion. Given the facts, it is hard to escape the impression that much of the opposition to recognising Dalit Muslims and Christians is prompted by religious prejudice. How else do we explain the fact that two prior constitutional amendments including Sikh and Buddhist Dalits were easily passed while proposed amendments to include their Muslim and Christian counterparts are proving so elusive? This too is a problem that must be faced squarely and not wished away.
To sum up, the present anomaly by which Muslims and Christians cannot be recognised as Dalits is entirely indefensible. It would be unjust but consistent to oppose all reservations for all Dalits, and just as well as consistent to support reservations for all Dalits. But to provide reservations for some Dalits and not to others merely because they profess other faiths is not only inconsistent but also unjust. There is a simpler name for such behaviour: hypocrisy.
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