Counting for Justice: India’s Caste Census and the Road to Equality

Introduction

In the digital age, technology has become deeply intertwined with our lives, influencing even our most intimate decisions. Take matrimonial websites, for instance, platforms that claim to foster love and compatibility, yet prominently display “caste preferences” as a filtering option. Users are encouraged, and even subtly nudged, to search for partners within their own caste group. This isn't just a feature; it’s a quiet reminder that caste, far from being a relic of the past, remains an active social force in modern India. Even in the world of tech and AI-driven matchmaking, the shadow of casteism looms large.

This reality starkly contrasts with the ideal of a casteless society envisioned by the framers of the Indian Constitution. Now, with the Indian government giving the nod to include caste as a category in the next national population census, this deeply entrenched social identity has taken center stage in policy discourse. The move could potentially reshape electoral politics, welfare distribution, and the very foundation of India’s affirmative action framework. But it also opens up a Pandora’s box of concerns that will this deepen caste-based divisions, or is it a step toward more inclusive governance?

The debate around the caste census is not new, but it has intensified in recent months. Supporters hail it as a long-overdue measure that will provide crucial data for social justice programs, while critics argue that it may lead to increased social fragmentation and political exploitation of caste identities. This renewed interest prompts us to re-examine the historical trajectory of caste enumeration in India and understand its implications through the lenses of both national experience and global parallels.

A Historical Perspective

Caste enumeration in India has a long and complex history, deeply rooted in the colonial administrative machinery of the British Empire. The British were the first to systematically collect caste data as part of their decennial census, starting from 1881. The practice peaked with the 1931 Census, which remains the last time comprehensive caste data (beyond SCs and STs) was officially published in India. For the colonial state, understanding the caste composition of Indian society was not merely academic as it was a means of control, categorization, and governance. By mapping the intricate social hierarchy, the British institutionalized caste identities, inadvertently giving them a rigidity they had not historically possessed.

After India gained independence in 1947, the political leadership took a markedly different approach. The first post-independence census in 1951 consciously chose not to collect data on caste (except for SCs and STs), a decision rooted in the Nehruvian vision of building a modern, egalitarian nation. The idea was to promote national integration by moving away from divisive social markers like caste. However, caste did not disappear from public life and it remained central to political mobilization, social welfare policies, and personal identity.

One significant exception to the post-independence silence on caste data was the Socio-Economic and Caste Census (SECC) of 2011 where raw caste data was handed over to the Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment, which constituted an Expert Group led by Arvind Panagariya for classification but again it is unclear if the group submitted its report as no report was ever made public. This was the most extensive data collection exercise on caste since 1931. The SECC was supposed to inform welfare policy by linking caste with economic indicators such as housing, education, and employment. However, despite gathering vast amounts of information, the caste component of the SECC was never officially released. Concerns about data accuracy, inconsistencies in self-reporting, and political ramifications led to a prolonged delay and eventual shelving of the report.

Thus, India’s relationship with caste data has been ambivalent oscillating between deliberate suppression and reluctant acknowledgment. As the government now reconsiders this stance and prepares to reintroduce caste enumeration in the upcoming census, it is worth reflecting on how we got here, what lessons the past holds, and what potential consequences lie ahead.

The Current Shift

India’s cabinet has formally approved the inclusion of caste data in the next national population census, marking the first comprehensive caste enumeration since 1931. The Information Minister, Ashwini Vaishnaw, emphasized that this decision reflects a commitment to transparency and data-driven governance, underscoring its landmark nature in the context of India’s social justice framework. Historically, only Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes have been counted post-independence, making this a significant policy pivot that could reshape affirmative action and resource allocation.

Proponents of the caste census argue that accurate, granular data on caste composition is indispensable for formulating targeted welfare schemes and evaluating the effectiveness of existing reservation policies. They contend that without up-to-date information, marginalized communities’ risk being underserved by social programs that rely on outdated demographic assumptions and further better implication of any government projects and yajnas are being questioned without the authentic details. Public Broadcasting Service commentary highlights that the states which conducted their own caste surveys such as Bihar and Karnataka leveraged the results to fine-tune educational and employment quotas, demonstrating the practical benefits of such data. While the Indian Constitution itself makes no explicit reference to “census” (nor does the Census Act of 1948 define the term), the decennial headcount has long been understood as a tool for gathering demographic information to guide the social and economic upliftment of the population. Under the Seventh Schedule’s Concurrent List, Entry 20 empowers both the Centre and the States to legislate on “Economic and social planning,” laying the foundation for using census data to inform development strategies. Entry 23 extends this shared power to “Social security and social insurance; employment and unemployment,” indicating that population statistics including caste breakdowns are critical for designing welfare schemes and employment policies. Meanwhile, Entry 30 covers “Vital statistics including registration of births and deaths,” underscoring the census’s role in maintaining accurate records of the populace’s fundamental life events. Collectively, these provisions reflect a purpose and potential outcome of a caste-based census: to furnish precise, actionable data that can drive equitable policy-making across economic planning, social security, and vital records management. Moreover, the judiciary has underscored the constitutional limits on caste classification as in July 2024, the Supreme Court ruled that states lack the authority to alter the list of Scheduled Castes as published under Article 341, quashing a 2015 Bihar notification that sought to reclassify the Tanti-Tantwa community as a Scheduled Caste and reaffirming that only Parliament may amend these lists under the Constitution.

Critics caution that announcing a caste census in the charged atmosphere leading up to state and national elections could further entrench identity-based politics and exacerbate societal divisions. Some analysts warn that emphasizing caste categories might undermine efforts to promote a unified national identity and could be exploited by political parties seeking narrow vote banks. Additionally, concerns have been raised about the accuracy of self-reported caste data and the potential for manipulation at the grassroots level, echoing issues that stalled the release of the 2011 Socio-Economic and Caste Census.

The timing of this policy shift is closely tied to regional political dynamics: opposition-ruled states like Bihar and Karnataka have already conducted and publicly released their caste surveys, putting pressure on the central government to act in order to preempt political narratives centered on social justice. The move also comes against the backdrop of forthcoming state elections in caste-sensitive regions, where parties on both sides view caste data as a crucial campaigning tool. By standardizing caste enumeration at the national level, the government aims to neutralize state-level disparities in data collection and forestall politicization by individual states.

Implementing a caste census on this scale presents significant logistical challenges, as the decennial exercise was originally slated for 2021 but has been delayed by the COVID-19 pandemic and technical hurdles. Enumerators will require specialized training to accurately capture and record caste information, and data processing systems must be upgraded to handle the increased complexity of caste categories. Moreover, ensuring public trust in the process will be critical; transparent methodologies and safeguards against data misuse will be essential to realize the policy’s intended benefits without inflaming social tensions

Gandhi and Ambedkar: Divergent Visions

The discourse on caste in India is incomplete without referencing Mahatma Gandhi and Dr. B.R. Ambedkar. Gandhi viewed the caste system as a social order that, while flawed, could be reformed to eliminate untouchability and promote harmony. He opposed separate electorates for Dalits, fearing it would fragment Hindu society. Ambedkar, on the other hand, saw caste as an oppressive system warranting complete annihilation. He championed separate electorates to ensure political representation for marginalized communities. While both leaders unequivocally condemned untouchability, their diagnoses of the caste problem and prescriptions for change diverged sharply, culminating in the watershed Poona Pact of 1932. This pact, brokered under the shadow of Gandhi’s fast-unto-death and Ambedkar’s insistence on separate electorates for Dalits, epitomized their contrasting approaches to political representation and social harmony. Their debate over separate electorates exposed deeper rifts: Gandhi feared that political segregation would “vivisect and disrupt” Hindu society, whereas Ambedkar viewed separate electorates as indispensable for ensuring the political voice of the oppressed.

Gandhi regarded the caste system as a flawed but improvable social order rather than an evil to be obliterated. He vigorously campaigned against untouchability, establishing the Harijan Sevak Sangh in 1932 to “cleanse the temple of the nation” by integrating Dalits into mainstream social and religious life. Nonetheless, he opposed separate electorates for the “depressed classes,” arguing that such measures would institutionalize caste divisions and undermine efforts to foster Hindu unity. Instead, Gandhi advocated for the abolition of untouchability within the varna framework, believing that transforming hearts rather than seats in legislatures, which was the path to genuine social reform. His emphasis remained on moral upliftment and nonviolent persuasion, trusting that upper-caste Hindus would embrace change once they recognized the injustice of untouchability.

In stark contrast, Ambedkar diagnosed the caste system itself as an inherently oppressive institution that could not be reformed from within. He famously declared, “I measure the progress of a community by the degree of progress which women have achieved,” extending this principle to Dalits by insisting their full political empowerment was non-negotiable. Ambedkar championed separate electorates as a constitutional safeguard, ensuring that Dalit representatives would not be mere dependents of upper-caste patrons but true advocates for their communities. His seminal work, The Annihilation of Caste, called for the complete eradication of the caste system, equating it with “social tyranny” that demanded radical dismantling rather than piecemeal reform. Disillusioned by the Poona Pact’s compromise, Ambedkar later converted to Buddhism in 1956, symbolically rejecting Hinduism’s caste rigidity and affirming his commitment to equality and rationalism.

Global Context

While India's caste system is unique in its structure and influence, other countries have grappled with similar social stratifications. In numerous African ethnic groups, rigid caste-like systems characterized by hereditary status, endogamous occupational groups, and notions of purity as early as the 9th century continue to shape social hierarchies today. These systems, found across Mali, Senegal, the Wolof, and Tuareg populations, as well as among the Ari of Ethiopia, who maintain distinct cultivator, blacksmith, and potter caste, featuring striking parallels with India’s caste order, including artisan and musician groups that occupy inherited social roles. However, unlike India, where caste enumeration has been institutionalized intermittently since colonial times, most African nations have never systematically recorded caste in their national censuses, leaving these identities under-documented at the state level. Similarly, in Japan, the burakumin outcast descendants of feudal “pollution” occupations such as executioners and tanners remain socially stigmatized despite being physically indistinguishable from other Japanese citizens, yet they are not identified in ordinary census data. The exclusion of such groups from official enumeration contrasts sharply with India’s forthcoming comprehensive caste count, highlighting the unique scale and scope of New Delhi’s initiative.

Nepal provides one of the few examples outside India where caste and ethnicity were systematically enumerated in the 2021 census, reporting 142 distinct caste/ethnic groups, a level of granularity intended to inform tailored social welfare and representation policies. Even in Nepal, however, the focus is broader, encompassing language and religion alongside caste, rather than isolating caste as a singular category for affirmative action purposes. In contrast, European countries like France and Spain historically marginalized the Cagots in the Basque region, an “untouchable” minority confined to segregated churches without ever officially recognizing them in census data, demonstrating how caste-like discrimination can persist without formal state acknowledgment. The United Kingdom has begun to address caste within discrimination law under Section 9(5) of the Equality Act 2010, yet it does not enumerate caste in its population census, preferring legal protections over direct enumeration. India’s decision to reinstate caste enumeration thus stands as a groundbreaking model, offering demographic granularity that could guide social justice initiatives in deeply stratified societies worldwide

Implications and Considerations

The reintroduction of comprehensive caste data collection in India’s upcoming census represents a pivotal shift with far-reaching consequences across policy-making, electoral politics, and societal harmony. Accurate caste statistics are poised to enhance the targeting and evaluation of welfare schemes, address long-standing gaps in affirmative action, and inform constituency delimitation for fairer representation. At the same time, political actors are likely to leverage this granular data to refine campaign strategies, deepen identity-based appeals, and potentially recalibrate reservation demands. However, heightened visibility of caste identities may also risk exacerbating social fissures, challenging efforts to foster a cohesive national identity. Balancing these opportunities and risks will require transparent methodologies, robust data safeguards, and inclusive public dialogue to ensure the census fulfills its promise of equitable development without inflaming divisions.

1. Policy Formulation:

India’s decision to collect detailed caste data after nearly a century is driven by the need for empirical evidence to refine social welfare programs and affirmative action policies. Accurate caste statistics will enable policymakers to identify underrepresented and underserved communities, ensuring that benefits such as education quotas, subsidized healthcare, and direct cash transfers reach those most in need. For instance, Poonam Muttreja of the Population Foundation of India argues that without intersectional data combining caste, region, and economic status social schemes risk being misdirected or inequitably distributed. State-level experiences underscore this potential, for instance, Karnataka’s caste survey led to recalibrated job quotas for backward classes, directly impacting recruitment patterns in public services. Moreover, updated census data will inform constituency delimitation exercises, ensuring that electoral boundaries reflect the true demographic spread and enabling fairer representation for marginalized groups. Finally, longitudinal comparison with the upcoming data will allow the government to assess the effectiveness of past interventions, guiding future allocations and program designs with greater precision

2. Political Dynamics:

Caste census data is anticipated to become a potent tool in the arsenal of political parties, shaping electoral strategies and alliance formations. Parties may analyze the distribution of various caste groups within constituencies to craft targeted manifestos, promises, and candidate selections aimed at maximizing their appeal among specific demographics. The BJP’s move to embrace the caste census, after years of skepticism, reflects strategic calculations to reclaim the OBC narrative and counter Opposition-led surveys in states like Bihar and Karnataka. However, this data can also be weaponized: opponents warn that granular caste breakdowns might entrench vote-bank politics, reinforcing identities at the expense of issue-based politics and national cohesion. As election cycles approach, there is a risk that caste figures will dominate campaign discourse, leading to promises of expanded quotas or sub-categorization that may reignite contentious debates over reservation ceilings and inter-group competition.

3. Social Cohesion:

While detailed caste enumeration promises greater equity, it carries the inherent risk of magnifying social divides. Critics argue that formal recognition of caste categories in a high-stakes political environment could legitimize caste-based mobilization, deepening perceptions of “us versus them” and potentially sparking fresh societal tensions. Historical precedents such as the unreleased 2011 SECC underscore fears that politicized use of caste data can overshadow its developmental intent, leading to public mistrust and calls for data suppression. To mitigate these concerns, experts advocate for transparent data collection processes, clear communication on the intended use of caste statistics, and robust legal safeguards against misuse. Additionally, public education campaigns emphasizing shared citizenship and collective progress could help balance identity recognition with a broader narrative of national unity, ensuring that data-driven reforms strengthen rather than fragment India’s social fabric.

Conclusion

As India undertakes the monumental task of conducting a caste census, it finds itself at a pivotal moment in its democratic journey, one that demands a careful reconciliation of historical truths with aspirations for an inclusive future. The initiative goes beyond the mechanics of data collection; it is a profound acknowledgment of the diverse and layered social realities that continue to shape the lives of millions. Recognizing and documenting these realities can pave the way for more equitable policy formulation, helping bridge long-standing gaps in representation, access, and opportunity.

However, this pursuit is not without its challenges. The potential for political polarization, social discord, or the reinforcement of caste identities must be weighed against the larger objective of justice and development. It will require a thoughtful, transparent, and inclusive approach to ensure that the data is used constructively empowering marginalized communities without deepening existing divides. Ultimately, how India chooses to interpret and act on the findings of the caste census will be a test of its democratic maturity and its resolve to build a truly egalitarian society.