FrontLine

Reservatio­n as a political imperative

- BY KALEESWARA­M RAJ, THULASI K. RAJ, AND BASTIAN STEUWER

It is incumbent upon the state to act and remedy the pernicious influence of caste by eradicatin­g its hierarchie­s and doing so requires looking at reservatio­n as a component of political equality.

LITIGATION and discussion­s about reservatio­n policies are recurrent in Indian political discourse. More than 70 years after the adoption of the Constituti­on, one might ask: what is the point of reservatio­n policies?

According to a view that questions the relevance of reservatio­ns,

India is advancing towards becoming a casteless society. The policies of liberalisa­tion and modernisat­ion have weakened the hold of caste, and caste has been replaced by other markers of identity, such as class, which is the dominant feature through which one understand­s Indian society.

The invocation of class over caste is also recurrent in demands to have reservatio­n, if at all, dependent on economic criteria alone. The recent 103rd constituti­onal amendment providing for reservatio­n for economical­ly weaker sections (EWS) is an expression of this view, although it retains a caste dimension by limit

ing EWS to the upper castes and excluding lower castes and Scheduled Tribes (S.T).

A version of this view argues that reservatio­n, far from helping to reduce the power of caste, retains and strengthen­s caste divisions. According to this idea, reservatio­n introduces a form of identity politics that makes caste visible, when the goal ought to be the eradicatio­n of caste. Making caste, or religion, a topic of discussion is “votebank politics” that divides Indians. This view presents the policy of reservatio­n as a paradox: How can caste-sensitive reservatio­n policies fight caste-sensitivit­y?

To solve this paradox, we should remember an integral part of the caste system. In Dr B.R. Ambedkar’s words, the caste system is not just a division of labour but a division of labourers. The caste system is divisive insofar as caste is a constant from one’s birth onwards. By virtue of birth, individual­s are segregated and assigned in different profession­s. Endogamy assures that family and social life stay within a caste. The caste system thus ensures a system of segregatio­n.

In Ambedkar’s time, the system worked much like the legal systems of segregatio­n such as apartheid in South Africa and the Jim Crow laws in the American South. It is no coincidenc­e that in both these systems, norms against intermarri­age were in place and strictly enforced.

PERSISTENC­E OF CASTE

Some of the worst excesses of the caste system might have been reduced, but the system is neverthele­ss unsettling­ly prevalent to this day. Data from the comprehens­ive 201112 India Human Developmen­t Survey (IHDS-II), which involved over 40,000 households, found that 27 per cent of all households admitted to practising untouchabi­lity, with a majority of Brahmin households admitting to it. Education seems to make little difference here; 24 per cent of households with a graduate as a member are still practising untouchabi­lity.

Intermarri­age, Ambedkar’s solution to break caste, is rare. The same survey found that only 5 per cent of all marriages crossed the boundaries of caste. It should, therefore, be no surprise that India’s society still suffers from a de facto segregatio­n based on caste.

The privileged parts of society are still largely devoid of Dalits and other oppressed castes. A 2019 study of Indian media published by Oxfam and Newslaundr­y, titled “Who tells our stories matters”, found such a pattern. At the time of the report, all leadership positions in Hindi television news channels were held by upper-caste people.

In a recent article in The Caravan, Namit Arora reports that 96 per cent of all the faculty at Indian Institute of Technology Kharagpur belonged to the upper castes, according to a 2018 response under the Right to Informatio­n Act, despite reservatio­n policies.

It is clear that reservatio­n does not introduce caste. Caste already exists in the form of a segregated society in which the top positions are reserved for those from upper castes. The plea against caste-based policies, therefore, fosters a silent caste system. Although caste is not talked about, it is is very much present in the selection of who belongs and who does not belong.

Reservatio­n is imperative for social integratio­n. The alleged paradox is, in fact, no paradox at all. Castesensi­tive policies are needed to break the otherwise silent segregatio­n of Indian society. A casteless society can emerge only when this segregatio­n is broken.

DEMOCRACY AT STAKE

The segregatio­n of Indian society is also a threat to democracy. Democracy is a form of self-governance among political equals, and mistrust between caste groups and a lack of understand­ing of one another threaten this practice. This is why Ambedkar said that genuine swaraj required the abolition of caste.

He brings this to bear while highlighti­ng the value of fraternity. Fraternity is not possible in a segregated society in which castes live side by side instead of together. In Annihilati­on of Caste, he writes: “(T)here should be varied and free points of contact with other modes of associatio­n .... This is fraternity, which is only another name for democracy.”

Universiti­es and institutio­ns of public employment need to bring individual­s from all castes together. Only then can they be genuine democratic institutio­ns. Without reservatio­n, this is not possible.

The de facto segregatio­n of Indian society also limits and stifles the prospects of a better life for many people. The obstacles are myriad; some of them reflect the economic disadvanta­ge that Dalits and Bahujans face. The poor state of the public education system virtually forces candidates aspiring for select institutio­ns or public employment to seek private schooling or schools under the Central Board of School Education.

Others reflect the disadvanta­ge of not possessing cultural capital. Command over the English language is a key advantage in access to most positions of privilege in Indian society, an advantage possessed by those groups that are educationa­lly already

advanced over many generation­s.

Lastly, the barriers to progress are social in the form of caste prejudice and caste discrimina­tion, including untouchabi­lity.

RESERVATIO­N, A COMPONENT OF EQUALITY

Those opposing caste-based reservatio­n also make another argument, pointing to what they consider a second paradox. How can discrimina­tion be fought with discrimina­tion? The Constituti­on grants every Indian the equal protection of the laws and the right not to be discrimina­ted against. Even if reservatio­n policies serve the valuable purpose of integratio­n and de-segregatio­n, as well as the purpose of equalising opportunit­ies for all, such policies are neverthele­ss objectiona­ble if they violate this important right.

For a long time in India’s constituti­onal history, reservatio­n was understood to be a necessary compromise with equality. This sentiment was conveyed in the Constituen­t

Assembly debates and in various Supreme Court judgments.

But this understand­ing of reservatio­n is puzzling. It admits that an injustice is done to those missing out on government jobs or university places because seats are reserved for members of backward castes. The state has failed to treat them as equals and discrimina­ted against them. Why should we compromise the great value of equality? Why should the state depart from the idea that rights are universal, and that justice is due to everyone regardless of caste, colour, or creed?

The idea that reservatio­n is a (necessary) aberration from equality is no longer the view of the Supreme Court. Back in the 1970s, the Supreme Court in N.M. Thomas (1975) ruled that Article 16(4), which allows the state to provide for reservatio­n, is not an exception to equality but rather a facet of Article 16(1).

The article, the Court reasoned, is merely an empathic restatemen­t of the fact that the Constituti­on’s equality code, Articles 14, 15, and 16, allows the state to make reasonable classifica­tions. In deciding whom to select for public employment or university admission, the state needs to distinguis­h between candidates. Such classifica­tions are innocuous when they are reasonable. In N.M. Thomas, the Court held that some caste classifica­tions, like those inherent in reservatio­n, are indeed reasonable.

Any doubt about this understand­ing of reservatio­n should have been put to rest by the Supreme Court’s affirmatio­n of this interpreta­tion in Indra Sawhney (1992).

The Court said: “In earlier decisions rendered by the Court till sixties, Article 16(4) was held to be exception to Article 16(1). But from 1976 onwards it has been understood differentl­y. Today, Article 16(1) and 16(4) are understood as part of one and same scheme directed towards promoting equality.”

Therefore, the judicial approach that reservatio­n is an exception to equality is now replaced by the idea that it is a component of equality.

In Indra Sawhney, however, the Court said something more. It held that reservatio­n should not exceed 50 per cent. The Court cited Ambedkar to say that reservatio­n shall be confined “to a minority of seats”. Excessive reservatio­n would breach the principle of equality of opportunit­y.

But this is curious. On what basis did the Court arrive at 50 per cent as the upper limit for reservatio­n? Ambedkar’s reasoning, which the Court cited, was based on understand­ing reservatio­n as an exception to equality that cannot be greater than the rule. But once we understand that reservatio­n is not an exception to equality, then the basis for a 50 per cent limit disappears. Neverthele­ss, the limit was reiterated and followed by subsequent judgments (Nagaraj, 2006).

In addition, consider the following example: Assume that in a region, candidates from the upper castes dominate private employment given the widespread discrimina­tion in the labour market. Most busi

nesses are owned by members from such castes and most educationa­l institutio­ns are comprised of them. In these circumstan­ces, the state decides to give 70 per cent reservatio­n to Dalits and Other Backward Classes (OBCS) considerin­g their abysmal representa­tion in private employment and public sphere in general.

The state is satisfied that the underrepre­sentation of these castes is establishe­d and wants to provide for overrepres­entation of Dalits and OBCS in public employment to balance their lower chances in the private sector. The result would be equal chances for employment for every caste. While this seems justified, this appears to violate the arbitrary 50 per cent ceiling limit set by the Court.

NOT ALL CASTE CLASSIFICA­TIONS ARE ALIKE

Understand­ing reservatio­n as a component of equality means that some classifica­tions based on caste, like those inherent in reservatio­n, are constituti­onally permissibl­e while others, for example a rule that forbids Dalits from entering a government building, are not. To sum it up: not all caste classifica­tions are alike.

But why is one way of treating people differentl­y based on caste acceptable while others are not? The answer lies in the deep-rooted, structural caste inequality that pervades our society. People do not start on equal terms on a level playing field. The status quo is vastly unequal. Ambedkar emphasised this during the Constituen­t Assembly debates when he said: “We must begin by acknowledg­ing the fact that there is a complete absence of two things in Indian society. One of these is equality.” (November 25, 1949)

What should the Constituti­on’s equality code mean in a country riddled with such a lack of equality? On a formal understand­ing of equality, the Constituti­on takes no note of this background inequality. It holds that equality of opportunit­y is satisfied when, for instance, a rural Dalit girl with no prior English education and an upper caste boy who went to an internatio­nal school compete in an entrance test. In deciding that reservatio­n is a facet of equality, the Supreme Court was wise in rejecting this idea.

Moving beyond formal equality means acknowledg­ing the social context. It means looking at equality not in isolation but in connection with societal structures and inherent disadvanta­ges that people face for being a woman or a Dalit.

From this perspectiv­e, it is clear why not all caste classifica­tions are alike. Reservatio­n challenges the caste system by integratin­g society across the boundaries of caste. It is designed to break the segregatio­n that maintains the caste system and ultimately weaken the hold of caste in society.

In contrast, caste classifica­tions that exclude Dalits are designed to subordinat­e Dalits and prevent them from attaining equal status in society. Such oppression is what the Constituti­on disapprove­s of, not the invocation of caste as such.

A FUNDAMENTA­L RIGHT?

Reservatio­n is certainly permissibl­e under the Constituti­on. But the big question is whether there is a fundamenta­l right to reservatio­n. This question has dominated the recent constituti­onal discourse on the equality code.

In Mukesh Kumar vs State of Uttarakhan­d (2020), the court said that there is no fundamenta­l right to reservatio­n.

The controvers­y arose because the State of Uttarakhan­d refused to gather data on the representa­tion of Dalits in public service and failed to provide reservatio­n to them. Critics of the judgment argued that the State would need to legally justify its refusal to provide reservatio­n by citing adequate representa­tion of Dalits in service.

In contrast, the State of Uttarakhan­d relied on the wording of the express provision, Article 16(4), and submitted that it was not bound under any duty to provide reservatio­n.

Article 16(4) is worth extracting in full: “Nothing in this article shall prevent the State from making any provision for the reservatio­n of appointmen­ts or posts in favor of any backward class of citizens which, in the opinion of the State, is not adequately represente­d in the services under the State.”

The article states that “nothing shall prevent the State” from giving reservatio­n. The plain meaning of the provision is clear: it allows the state to provide reservatio­n but does not require the state to provide it mandatoril­y. The constituti­onal provision, unlike the mandatory provisions injuncting the state from discrimina­ting, such as Article 15(1), is enabling in nature.

The Constituti­on does not mandate the state to provide reservatio­n: it merely states that if the state chooses to make reservatio­n, the parent provision will not prevent it from doing so.

This is the first problem with conceiving reservatio­n as a fundamenta­l right—that doing so will blur the distinctio­n between two provisions of the Constituti­on which are contra-distinctly phrased.

When the Supreme Court held in Mukesh Kumar that the constituti­onal provisions do not confer the right to claim reservatio­n and that the state could not be directed to provide reservatio­n by the courts, it merely upheld a position of law faithful to the Constituti­on.

Here, it is helpful to make a comparison with the constituti­onal provision enabling the state to enact legislatio­ns of social reform and open

Reservatio­n challenges the caste system by integratin­g society across the boundaries of caste.

access to temples, Article 25(2)(b). It is one of the clauses under the freedom of conscience and religion. Could one say that one has a right to have the state pass a social reform legislatio­n? That simply does not follow.

Rather, when the state passes such a social reform legislatio­n, it cannot be said to necessaril­y offend the right to freedom of religion.

REMEDY IN COURTS?

In a criticism of the judgment in The Wire, law professor Kailash Jeenger argued that a policy like reservatio­n must not be left to the mercy of the political executive. The implicatio­n of this argument is that reservatio­n policies are in better hands with the courts. Given the history of reservatio­n policies, this is doubtful at best.

Consider the complicate­d history of reservatio­n in promotions. In 1992, in Indra Sawhney the Court limited the rights of Parliament and government­s to make reservatio­n policies. Reservatio­n ought not apply to promotions, according to the Court. The Supreme Court cited, among others, reasons of administra­tive efficiency. This invocation is curious since it relies on a highly speculativ­e account. The only comprehens­ive study on affirmativ­e action and efficiency in the Indian context is the one about the Indian Railways.

A study by Ashwini Deshpande and Thomas Weisskopf, published in World Developmen­t, found that efficiency does not decrease with reservatio­n policies. Rather, it found that a higher proportion of S.C/S.T employees in upper jobs improved performanc­e.

While the Court was quick to judge against reservatio­n in promotions without social scientific evidence, it was Parliament that brought in a constituti­onal amendment in 1995 to restore reservatio­n in promotions.

Then, in M. Nagaraj (2006), the Supreme Court attached conditions to reservatio­n in promotions and diluted the constituti­onal amendment. For example, the Court required the state to show the backwardne­ss of the caste, even for Dalits, in spite of the abundance of social scientific works demonstrat­ing its backwardne­ss. This requiremen­t was later dropped in Jarnail Singh vs Lacchmi Narain Gupta (2018).

By attaching further conditions like obtaining quantifiab­le data regarding inadequacy of representa­tion, with variations from time to time, the Court narrowed the scope for reservatio­n that Parliament evidently desired.

The logic of the Court is also in tension with the later statement in Mukesh Kumar that denying reservatio­n is in the subjective satisfacti­on of the state. In other words, it is a political choice.

If providing reservatio­n is a political choice, then what is the need for quantifiab­le data? The need for quantifiab­le data arises only if one believes that reservatio­n is an exception to an important constituti­onal right. But this understand­ing of reservatio­n was rightly abandoned by the Supreme Court long ago.

RESERVATIO­N AS A POLITICAL PROJECT

The reliance on courts may, therefore, be misplaced. Conceiving of reservatio­n as a political project does not diminish its significan­ce. Reservatio­n remains so with sound backing from constituti­onal values. Part IV of the Constituti­on deals with the Directive Principles of State Policy, which are essentiall­y norms that must guide governance.

The Directive Principles, while not enforceabl­e in court, emphasise the socialist character of the state. They must entrench state policy. They are important tools to conceptual­ise a welfare state. They are not antithetic­al to fundamenta­l rights. These principles and rights need to supplement and complement each other as indicated in Kesavanand­a Bharati (1973) and Abu Kavur Bai (1983).

Article 38, for example, says that the state shall strive to minimise inequaliti­es in income, status, facilities and opportunit­ies, not only among individual­s but also among groups.

Article 46 refers to the state obligation to promote the educationa­l and economic interests of the weaker sections of the people, in particular the Scheduled Castes and the Scheduled Tribes.

The Preamble, which aids constituti­onal interpreta­tion, likewise refers to a socialist state and socioecono­mic justice.

Article 340 of the Constituti­on provides for “appointmen­t of a commission to investigat­e the conditions of backward classes.” Articles 341 and 342 contemplat­e a presidenti­al notificati­on enlisting S.CS and S.TS which Parliament alone has the authority to change; the Court or the executive cannot alter such entries. The entries are, therefore, final, but subject to future modificati­ons by Parliament.

All of this highlights that it is incumbent upon the state to act and remedy the pernicious influence of caste. It is a demand of political justice that caste inequaliti­es and the hierarchy of castes are weakened and that we move towards a casteless society.

The political project needs to broaden and look at various ways in which caste is reproduced and hierarchy is entrenched. Reservatio­n is one component of this broader project. The comprehens­iveness required for the schemes for upliftment of the downtrodde­n was explained in detail by S. Nagappa in the Constituen­t Assembly in 1949.

Earlier, on November 30, 1948, during the Assembly debate, H.N. Kunzru said that “the State might come to think that it had done its duty by these [backward] classes by making this provision [reservatio­n]”. Kunzru’s warning appears almost prophetic.

For reservatio­n to be truly transforma­tive, it must be accompanie­d by a strong commitment to overcome the segregatio­n of the caste system. Only then will Indians be able to live Ambedkar’s vision of fraternity, or, as he called it, democracy. m Kaleeswara­m Raj and Thulasi K. Raj are lawyers at the Supreme Court, while Bastian Steuwer is a political philosophe­r at the London School of Economics.

 ??  ?? DALIT CHILDREN SEATED SEPARATELY during lunch in a primary school in Binapur, Odisha, a file picture. Caste-based segregatio­n continues to be practised across the country in spite of educationa­l progress.
DALIT CHILDREN SEATED SEPARATELY during lunch in a primary school in Binapur, Odisha, a file picture. Caste-based segregatio­n continues to be practised across the country in spite of educationa­l progress.
 ??  ??
 ??  ?? MEMBERS OF the Democratic Youth Federation of India demanding implementa­tion of 27 per cent reservatio­n for Other Backward Classes in admissions to medical courses under the all-india quota, in Tiruchi on August 17.
MEMBERS OF the Democratic Youth Federation of India demanding implementa­tion of 27 per cent reservatio­n for Other Backward Classes in admissions to medical courses under the all-india quota, in Tiruchi on August 17.

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from India