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This chapter lays out the overall rationale for the book, elucidates some of its key aspects and situates the book in relation to a scholarly field of feminist jurisprudence in India. It introduces the established convention of diversity in the field of Indian feminist jurisprudence, which this book joins with and expands. The chapter offers an illustration of the field by introducing the body of literature that the book is drawing from and contributing to and foregrounds that there are different voices in the field each of which speaks from a different locus both within and outside Indian legal academia. Simultaneously, the chapter explains the relevance of caste and how it hierarchically organises the field of intellectual labour in India.
Colonial Caregivers offers a compelling cultural and social history of ayahs (nannies/maids), by exploring domestic intimacy and exploitation in colonial South Asia. Working for British imperial families from the mid-1700s to the mid-1900s, South Asian ayahs, as Chakraborty shows, not only provided domestic labor, but also provided important moral labor for the British Empire. The desexualized racialized ayah archetype upheld British imperial whiteness and sexual purity, and later Indian elite 'upper' caste domestic modernity. Chakraborty argues that the pervasive cultural sentimentalization of the ayah morally legitimized British colonialism, while obscuring the vulnerabilities of caregivers in real-life. Using an archive of petitions and letters from ayahs, fairytales they told to British children, court cases, and vernacular sources, Chakraborty foregrounds the precarious lives, voices, and perspectives of these women. By placing care labor at the center of colonial history, the book decolonizes the history of South Asia and the British Empire.
How do feminists, as lawyers and activists, think about, and do law, in a way that makes life more meaningful and just? How are law and feminism called into relation, given meaning, engaged with, used, refused, adapted and brought to life through collaborative action? Grounded in empirical studies, this book is both a history of the emergence of feminist jurisprudence in post-colonial India and a model of innovative legal research. The book inaugurates a creative practice of scholarly activism that engages a new way of thinking about law and feminist jurisprudence, one that is geared to acknowledge and take responsibility for the hierarchies in Indian academic practices. Its method of conversation and accountability continues the feminist tradition of taking reciprocity and the time and place of collaboration seriously. By bringing legal academics and sex worker activists into conversation, the book helps make visible the specific ties between post-colonial life and law and joins the work of refusing and reimagining the hierarchical formation of legal knowledge in a caste-based Indian society. A significant contribution to the history and practice of feminist jurisprudence in post-colonial India, A Jurisprudence of Conversations will appeal to both an academic and an activist readership.
How do social hierarchies affect patterns of discrimination in democratic contexts? While studies of identity politics in diverse societies often focus on relations between groups formed around parallel identities like ethnicity, these same societies often feature hierarchical identities that rank individuals into stratified groups. This paper examines how culturally embedded caste identities, inherited at birth, continue to shape everyday life. Drawing on an original survey of 2,160 Senegalese citizens, we show that caste remains a salient axis of perceived discrimination despite its formal abolition over a century ago. Individuals from occupational caste and slave-descended backgrounds are significantly more likely to report experiences of exclusion such as the denial of basic services. Most respondents attribute caste-based discrimination to cultural norms rather than economic competition, religious instruction, or biological differences. Moreover, we find that high-status individuals systematically overreport tolerant attitudes in face-to-face interviews with lower-status enumerators, suggesting that social desirability can obscure the extent of status-based attitudes. These findings shed light on the persistence of caste hierarchies and their impact on citizenship in societies otherwise considered tolerant and democratic. These findings contribute to research on identity politics by highlighting the need to distinguish between ranked and unranked forms of social difference.
Chapter 3 examines the evolution of caste and democracy.In doing so, it focuses on three aspects – the relationship between caste and electoral politics, the trajectory of caste-based reservations (affirmative action), and the link between development indicators and caste in the contemporary period. Though caste mobilization has indeed pluralized representative politics in India, substantial economic and social gains by the lower castes have been limited.
In British colonial imagination, the Indian ayah was idealized as an inherently nurturing, maternal figure, selflessly devoted to British women and children. The ayah archetype was not just a comforting construct, but morally legitimized British colonialism. Legal and medical archives, however, provide stories of individual ayahs facing financial and sexual abuse, caste-loss anxieties, and abandonment, which are occluded in the highly sentimentalized British literary and visual archives. The cultural veneration of the ayah, the Introduction argues, erased the vulnerabilities of real-life colonial caregivers. The Introduction situates the history of colonial care work in the historiography of domestic labor in South Asia, Britain, and colonial empires more broadly. It emphasizes the importance of bringing together the gendered domestic histories of race and caste, which historians typically study separately. The Introduction furthermore explains how the book draws theoretical and methodological inspiration from South Asian postcolonial subaltern studies and African American black feminist intersectionality to decolonize the history of domestic labor in the British Empire.
This chapter provides an introduction to the book. It sets the stage by highlighting contrasts in India’s economy, democracy, and society. It then discusses the main topics covered in the book – democracy and governance, growth and distribution, caste, labor, gender, civil society, regional diversity, and foreign policy. The chapter also outlines the three themes that comprise the main arguments of the book. First, India’s democracy has been under considerable strain over the last decade. Second, growing economic inequalities that accompanied India’s high-growth phase over the last three and a half decades are associated with the country’s democratic decline. Third, society has reacted to changes from below but there are limits to societal activism in contemporary India.
How has caste influenced entrepreneurship in India in the past and how does it do so in the present? Using the Industrial Census of 1911, this paper provides the first detailed caste-level mapping of firms in Indian business history and links it to the present by an analysis of the Economic Census of 2013–2014. It finds that while trading castes were dominant, there were significant regional variations and nontrading castes were far more important than usually posited in the literature. Over the course of a century, the social base of entrepreneurship has widened slowly but significant barriers remain. The paper argues that “caste embeddedness” through the nature of wealth distribution, social capital, and ritual purity affects entrepreneurial choices and presents a typology of “caste,” “caste-advantage,” “caste-restricted,” and “noncaste” businesses that characterize the economic life of India.
Contemporary India provides a giant and complex panorama that deserves to be understood. Through in-depth analysis of democracy, economic growth and distribution, caste, labour, gender, and foreign policy, Atul Kohli and Kanta Murali provide a framework for understanding recent political and economic developments. They make three key arguments. Firstly, that India's well-established democracy is currently under considerable strain. Secondly, that the roots of this decline can be attributed to the growing inequalities accompanying growth since the 1990s. Growing inequalities led to the decline of the Congress party and the rise of the BJP under Narendra Modi. In turn, the BJP and its Hindu-nationalist affiliates have used state power to undermine democracy and to target Indian Muslims. Finally, they highlight how various social groups reacted to macro-level changes, although the results of their activism have not always been substantial. Essential reading for anyone wishing to understand democracy in India today.
The chapter examines the public’s ideas and aspirations about the future constitution, through thousands of letters and memoranda that diverse publics sent to the Constituent Assembly. The public’s demands were informed by their everyday life experiences, generating constitutional ideas that would take years to find their ways into global constitutional governance. We focus on the new politics of caste that emerged with the promise of a transformative constitution, wherein caste groups invoked and disseminated the language and vocabulary of liberal constitutionalism for both regressive and progressive aims. We uncover a fuller range of public voices absent from the Constituent Assembly. The public demands were based on deliberative process of reasoning, and often grounded on universal principles that would apply to all groups. We thus uncover in this chapter a reservoir of public constitutional thinking, a body of constitutional theory that emerged from India’s streets.
Why has political representation by Scheduled Castes in post-colonial India failed to improve the lives of the vast majority of this population? One common answer rests on the assumption that caste inequality is upheld by dominant social groups who effectively resist progressive state policy. Others point to the institution of joint electorates: though constituencies are reserved for Scheduled Caste legislators, Scheduled Caste voters form a minority within them; the representatives thus elected are chosen primarily by others, and precisely because they will not challenge the status quo, it is said. But neither of these explanations, I argue, can adequately account for the minimal effects of Scheduled Caste representation, because both imagine states as confronting a distinct realm—‘society’—with pregiven interest groups that are then represented in legislatures. Instead, an examination of how state actions themselves govern, produce, and reproduce caste groups and intercaste relations is required. The argument is illustrated through episodes from the career of Dr Sathiavani Muthu, who sought to address injustices suffered by Scheduled Castes in Tamil Nadu from the late 1950s through to the 1980s. Muthu’s skill, diligence, and commitment make her an ideal representative, and Tamil Nadu as a state ought to provide a best-case scenario for the success of such an actor, given the scholarly consensus regarding its good governance and the pervasion of its society with a progressive ideology. An analysis of why her efforts nevertheless produced little fruit reveals pervasive deficiencies in current models of political representation.
In rural India, a large portion of the population continues to struggle with poverty, limited access to resources and education, and few job opportunities. This leads to many individuals, including men, women, and children, having to take on daily wage labouring jobs to make ends meet. Women from marginalised communities often find themselves working in fields, brick kilns, construction sites, small factories, or as domestic workers in higher caste households. Unfortunately, the wages earned from these informal jobs are often insufficient for survival, and these women also face discrimination based on caste, class, religion, and gender in the workplace. This creates an undignified and oppressive environment for these women, particularly when they take on paid domestic work, which is often exploitative and rife with abuse in rural areas.
This paper seeks to explore the intertwined experiences of paid domestic workers in rural India. It is based on primary research conducted through in-depth, semi-structured interviews with 25 domestic workers during and after the pandemic in the Chandauli district of Uttar Pradesh, representing a rural area. The paper contends that domestic work in rural India remains deeply rooted in caste-based servitude. The organisation of paid domestic work in rural India is influenced by a complex interplay of caste, class, gender, and religious identities. There exists not only a division of labour but also a hierarchy of labourers within domestic work. They not only encounter caste discrimination but also perpetuate discrimination against fellow workers ranked lower in the caste hierarchy.
Historians of the Indian Partition focus on the permit systems the governments of India and Pakistan put in place to stem refugee entry and prevent the return of evacuees. However, the prevention of exit became, alongside non-entrée and the prevention of return, part of an official strategy of immobility in South Asia directed at marginalized castes. At Partition, Pakistan saw the labour of ‘non-Muslim’ marginalized castes as essential to its national wealth. It believed it had to retain them at all costs. On the other side of the border, the article discusses the Indian government’s laggardly, and often indifferent, response to the struggles of caste-oppressed groups trying to migrate to India. The article builds on scholarship on mobility capital and partial citizenship in the aftermath of Partition to argue that with the prevention of exit, citizenship incorporated an imposed nationalization that embodied the status of marginalized castes as more than a minority and produced a form of bonded citizenship.
Since 1996, international human rights law (IHRL) has attempted to address caste-based discrimination through the rubric of racial discrimination by reading caste into ‘descent’ under Article 1(1) of the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD). However, this framing of discrimination remains inadequate. The Committee on Elimination of Racial Discrimination (CERD) and the UN Sub-Commission for the Promotion and Protection of Human Rights sought to identify caste-based discrimination by identifying practices of untouchability without analysing caste as a system of entitlement to knowledge, wealth, and land. Therefore, IHRL envisioned caste-based discrimination as primarily inflicting recognition harms on its victims. This meant that even material manifestations of caste-based discrimination were framed as consequences of untouchability. Furthermore, the creative legal move to read caste into ‘descent’ meant deracinating caste from its particular context in South Asia — where it remains imbricated with Brahmanical Hinduism1 — into a general form of ‘descent’ like any other ascriptive category. This process of abstraction erases the interdigitation of caste and Hinduism. These two moves mean IHRL remains ill-equipped to identify, let alone redress, caste-based discrimination.
“Caste No Bar?” navigates through Kolkata’s upper-caste Hindu Bengali matrimonial landscape and probes the patterns of matchmaking among families seeking brides for NRI (non-resident Indian) grooms. The matrimonial market, I argue, neatly foregrounds everyday casteism. If the parent community in West Bengal harbours a distinguished obsession with caste, the Bengali diaspora transports such caste enthusiasm beyond geographical confines to reproduce and reinforce caste on a global terrain. The apparent liberal progressive image of educated Bengali families with well-educated NRI grooms is grossly denuded in the matrimonial market. Across matrimonial columns and matrimonial websites, most advertisements mention their own caste affiliations; some stipulate preferred caste affiliations of the desired spouse, while many declare “Caste No Bar,” an oft-adduced phrase which adequately disguises the caste-fervour underlining Kolkata’s matrimonial market. Foregrounding the permeating social acceptability of endogamous marriages, this article scouts for the subtext of “Caste No Bar” that permits selective exogamy and precludes most boundary-crossings in a caste-charged matrimonial landscape that tellingly underpins caste bigotry.
Chapter 5 focuses on four different aspects of economic and social inequality. There were historical differences in level of economic development across provinces and there is persistence. The Bombay Presidency was one of the richest parts of colonial India. Maharashtra and Gujarat today are among the richest provinces in India. The poorer regions in colonial India, such as the United Provinces and the Central Provinces rank among the poorer regions today. Income inequality was high in the 1930s and 1940s. The first decades after independence saw a decline in inequality following the policies of public sector led development. Since the economic reforms of 1980, income inequality has increased, but it is not as high as in the colonial period. There is continuity in caste inequality in many dimensions, but also changes. Upper castes were heather and more literate in colonial India. Today lower castes have better access to education and jobs due policies of affirmative action, big differences remain. Finally, one aspect of gender inequality that is specific to India is sons preference. The regional variation in male biased sex ratio continues today.
The framers of the Indian Constitution laid explicit foundation for horizontal application, specifically in Articles 15, 17, 23, and 24. The constitutional debates reveal deep disagreements about the country’s future. At the same time, the textual provisions for horizontal application evince a clear vision on the part of key framers, such as B. R. Ambedkar and Jawaharlal Nehru, to combat entrenched systems of caste and discrimination. These and other framers aimed to instill a new fraternity across the polity, in part by holding private actors accountable for constitutional commitments. In the ensuing years, the Supreme Court vacillated between emphasizing the constitution’s conservative and transformative elements, often under the watchful eye of other governing institutions. For example, the Court largely yielded to Indira Gandhi’s excesses during the Emergency Era of the 1970s, and later to the Hindu-nationalist BJP’s agenda. Likewise, the Court’s development of horizontal application has been somewhat uneven, applying constitutional duties to private actors in a handful of cases. In those instances, involving such salient issues as labor, sexual assault, housing, and education, the constitutional discourses that emerge echo republican rationales from the founding era.
Although debate has long raged about how to understand the emergence of modern industrial society, it has generally been agreed until recently that Europe’s (and especially Britain’s) pioneering role was enabled by certain distinctive features of its history, economy, or society. Today, however, certain scholars deny this, arguing that other societies had reached a level of development from which a transition similar to Britain’s could have emerged, and that the special trajectory Britain followed was enabled only by accidental or incidental factors or circumstances. The two proposed candidates are China and India, and this chapter takes up and seeks to refute the claims made in regard to each, in the process developing comparisons that show the utility of the categories of autonomy and teleocracy employed throughout this book for the history of industry. The impressive achievements of both countries are acknowledged and described, but growth and sophistication are shown to be insufficient without the structural features that made British society the special case it was.
Chapter 9 suggests how Hinduism and Confucianism may be understood in relation to the construct of transcendentalism in order to set up a discussion of India and China in the final chapter. (Unearthly Powers had largely taken Christianity, Islam and Buddhism as the main examples of transcendentalist traditions.) This involves a consideration of distinct forms that the Axial Age took in both regions and the religious and philosophical traditions that emerged from them. The diverse traditions coming under the umbrellas of Hinduism and Confucianism represent very substantial continuity with the immanentist pre-Axial past, especially in a fundamental emphasis on the role of ritual action. However, they also incorporated Axial elements, particularly an emphasis on liberation/salvation in the case of Hinduism and ethical rectitude in the case of Confucianism. Confucianism remains the most awkward fit within the mould of transcendentalism because of the absence of a soteriological imperative.
In the wake of the establishment of the Portuguese in the region, slavery was fundamentally constitutive of early modern society on the west coast of India. While indigenous hierarchies and existing systems of slavery shaped Portuguese slavery, over time, indigenous society too was transformed by the extensive reliance on enslaved labor facilitated by European trafficking networks. Centering slavery in the study of South Asian history underscores the importance of considering the difference between elite projects of enforcing boundaries, both spatial and social, and the ways in which enslaved people negotiated these projects. Thus, instead of taking for granted the classificatory labels of race, caste, and blackness imposed upon enslaved peoples by elite institutions, a social history of slavery elucidates instead the evolution of these mechanisms for policing identity, and the centrality of the expropriation of labor in identity formation.