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How the Indian subcontinent has lost its way

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On the 30th death anniversary of Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan today, it is apt to remember him as the man who challenged the subcontinent’s pet stereotypes. He was a Pakhtun or Pathan from the North West Frontier Province, now called Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, where people are said to still subscribe to the code of revenge. Yet Frontier Gandhi, as Ghaffar Khan was popularly known, led a non-violent movement against the British in the province, his followers refusing to retaliate even as they were mowed down.
Ghaffar Khan embraced the Gandhian philosophy of non-violence because it resonated with Islam, thereby negating the idea that the religion of Muslims was inherently violent. He opposed the brand of homogenising political Islam, represented by Muhammad Ali Jinnah’s Muslim League in much the same way as Hindutva represents political Hinduism today. That is why he stood with the Congress in its battle against the Muslim League and communalism.
He believed the Congress had agreed to the partition of the country to gain power and, as a consequence, thrown the Pakhtuns “to the wolves”. Yet, the sense of betrayal did not prevent his followers from saving Hindus and Sikhs in the North West from Muslim assailants during the Partition riots.
Indeed, Ghaffar Khan is a reminder of how far the subcontinent has veered away from what it wanted to be.
Critics have doubted his commitment to non-violence. This is largely because, as Rajmohan Gandhi points out in Ghaffar Khan: Nonviolent Badshah of the Pakhtuns, he had agreed to the proposal of the fiercely anti-British cleric Maulana Obeidullah Sindhi to establish secret bases across the province. One base was even identified but the plan was aborted when Sindhi did not reach there as promised. No one really knows what the purpose of the proposed bases was but it is unlikely it was peaceful. Indeed, in 1981, Ghaffar Khan confessed: “In my youth I also thought [of] violence.”
But by 1919, when Ghaffar Khan was 29 years old, he had become a votary of non-violence. This was demonstrated when he organised a large peaceful public meeting in his Utmanzai village against the Rowlatt Act, which allowed the detention of a person without trial if found in possession of seditious material. Ghaffar Khan was arrested and sent to jail, the first of many spells of incarceration he endured in British India and then in Pakistan, totalling 27 years.
The defining moment for Ghaffar Khan and the Pakhtuns he led was the Civil Disobedience Movement of 1930. By then Ghaffar Khan had already raised the Khudai Khidmatgar, or Servants of God. To become a Khudai Khidmatgar, one had to take an oath that included these words: “I shall never use violence, I shall not retaliate or take revenge, and I shall forgive anyone who indulges in oppression and excesses against me.”
The Khudai Khidmatgar more than lived up to their oath. On April 23, Ghaffar Khan was on his way from Utmanzai to Peshawar to take part in a civil disobedience event when he was arrested and sent to the Charsadda jail. In protest, thousands of his followers surrounded the jail and many more marched in Peshawar and other places. To quell the non-violent insurrection, the British resorted to firing on the protestors. Yet, Rajmohan Gandhi notes in Ghaffar Khan, the Khudai Khidmatgar and their supporters, “who were chased down the streets and lanes of Peshawar, all them Pathans raised on the code of revenge, did not hit back. Even more dramatically, soldiers of the Raj’s Garhwal Rifles refused to obey their officer’s order to fire at a crowd of unarmed Pathans”.
This story of the brutal suppression of the Pakhtuns receives, at best, a passing mention in Indian school textbooks, perhaps because Peshawar is now in Pakistan.
Mahatma Gandhi and other leaders were released from prison in January 1931, but not the Pakhtun leader who had inspired his brethren to renounce violence and use civil resistance to challenge colonial rule. It was perhaps because of being singled out in 1931, as well as in later years, that Ghaffar Khan would say, “The British considered a non-violent Pathan more dangerous than a violent Pathan.”
Presumably, Ghaffar Khan’s non-violent movement surprised many, but he though the Pakhtuns were only following their religion. “There is nothing surprising in a Musalman or a Pathan like me subscribing to non-violence,” he said. “It is not a new creed. It was followed fourteen hundred years ago by the Prophet, all the time he was in Mecca [before he migrated to Medina]…But we had so far forgotten it that when Mahatma Gandhi placed it before us we thought he was sponsoring a new creed or a novel weapon.”
He argued that non-violence was the “twin of patience”, which is stressed upon repeatedly in the Quran. Citing the teachings of Prophet Muhammad, Ghaffar Khan defined jihad as a Muslim’s duty to speak truth to tyrant rulers, among whom he obviously counted the British. He mocked people who raised the bogey of Hindu rule after Independence. “To those who come to warn me against a Hindu rule, I say, perhaps it may be better to be slaves under a neighbour than under a perfect stranger,” he said.
On Mahatma Gandhi’s insistence, Ghaffar Khan was freed from jail in mid-1931, only to be returned there that December to serve a three-year term. On his release in 1934, he spent time with Gandhi in Wardha. Gandhi said he had a number of Muslim friends who would sacrifice their all for Hindu-Muslim unity, but none of them was “greater than or equal” to Ghaffar Khan.
It was not long before the police arrived in Wardha to arrest Ghaffar Khan on the charge of making a seditious speech in Bombay, tearing him away from his children who had come to meet him after three years. As he walked to the van waiting to take him to jail, he said, “It is all God’s doing. He kept me out [of the jail] to use me outside. Now I must serve from the inside. What please Him pleases me.”
The Khudai Khidmatgar, which merged with the Congress during the Civil Disobedience Movement in 1930-31 but retained its identity as a volunteer force, made deep inroads into the Frontier Province, going on to form the government after the provincial elections of 1937. Such was its dominance that the Muslim League could not even win one seat in the province.
The League, however, began to gain influence in the region after adopting the resolution demanding Pakistan in 1940, winning 17 seats in the 1946 elections. It was still no match for the Khudai Khidmatgar – contesting under the Congress’ banner – which retained power by winning 30 seats. This despite Ghaffar Khan campaigning for just a month. In 1946 as in 1937, the government was headed by Khan’s older brother Khan Abdul Jabbar Khan, popularly known as Dr Khan Sahib.
In the mid-40s, even as it became clear that Pakistan would be created with the Muslim League as its party of government, Jabbar Khan did not hesitate to battle the party. Rajmohan Gandhi tells the story of Basanti, a pregnant Sikh woman who, after her family had been killed in riots in Hazara district, had been abducted and married to a Muslim man. The police recovered Basanti and sent her to Jabbar Khan. She asked to be sent to her Sikh relatives and Jabbar Khan agreed. The Muslim League agitated against the decision and made the woman’s return to Islam the principal demand of its civil disobedience movement in the Frontier Province.
When Jabbar Khan fined Hazara villages for rioting against Hindus and Sikhs, the League accused him of repression because no such fines had been imposed on Hindus who had rioted against Muslims in Bihar. To an angry crowd that descended on his house protesting against government crackdown on Muslim League supporters, Jabbar Khan said he would do what he considered his duty.
As the Partition neared and communal riots erupted across the country, Ghaffar Khan accompanied Mahatma Gandhi to Bihar. They addressed people together. At one place, Ghaffar Khan said, “If India is burnt down, all will lose, Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs and Christian. What can be achieved through love can never be achieved through hatred or force…The Muslim League wants Pakistan. They can have it only through love and willing consent. Pakistan established through force will prove a doubtful boon.”
In the Muslim-majority Frontier Province, Ghaffar Khan invoked Islam to maintain communal amity. At Shabqadar, he said, “What gains will Islam and the Muslims reap from these riots and the slaughter of children, women and the aged?…These happenings are against the tenets of the Quran and the sayings of the Prophet. To lay hands on an innocent poor man goes also against Pakhtun tradition.” Speaking about an old Sikh man who had been murdered even after expressing willingness to embrace Islam, he asked, “Is it done for the sake of Islam? I warn the League brethren that the fire they kindle will spread in wild blaze and consume everything in its way.”
But the violence, and realpolitik, convinced most Congress leaders to agree to the Partition Plan, with the Congress Working Committee overwhelmingly ratifying it. Only four leaders held out – Gandhi, Ghaffar Khan, Ram Manohar Lohia and Jayaprakash Narain. Years later, Ghaffar Khan recalled he had told the Working Committee, “We Pakhtuns stood by you and have undergone great sacrifices for attaining freedom, but you have now deserted us and thrown us to the wolves.”
He felt betrayed also because the Pakhtuns were only given the choice, to be determined through a referendum, of going with India or Pakistan and not of independence. Believing his participation in the referendum campaign could lead to Pakhtuns killing Pakhtuns, he and the Khudai Khidmatgar left the field to the Muslim League.
They, however, ensured that the province, unlike other parts of the subcontinent, did not witness large-scale riots in August and September of 1947. In his book, Rajmohan Gandhi quotes the Pakistan academician Sayed Waqar Ali Shah, “Despite their desertion by the [Congress], the Khudai Khidmatgar still held strength in the province and…protected the lives and property of the non-Muslims in the NWFP.”
The North West Frontier Province voted overwhelmingly in favour of joining Pakistan. In his new country, Ghaffar Khan took to fighting for a better deal for the frontier region and, for this, spent years in prison. In the 1960s, he became an exile in Kabul, Afghanistan.
In 1969, Ghaffar Khan visited India for the centenary celebration of Mahatma Gandhi’s birth. He was accorded a rousing reception wherever he went. But he did not let that hold him back from speaking the truth: India had strayed away from Gandhi’s path.
Of this visit, Rajmohan Gandhi writes, “Whether by accident or by design, the Gandhi centenary saw communal riots in different parts of India, including in Gandhi’s Ahmedabad.” Ghaffar Khan fasted for three days for peace. He went to Ahmedabad and was disappointed to see that “Hindus work in Hindu areas alone”. After receiving the Jawaharlal Nehru Award for International Understanding, he repeated to the audience what a Muslim girl in Ahmedabad had told him: “Muslims were being asked by Hindu communalists to leave the country or live like untouchables.”
In his address to a joint session of Parliament, he was brutal in his assessment: “You are forgetting Gandhi the way you forgot the Buddha.”
To that list of forgotten idols, we should add the name of Khan Abdul Ghaffar Khan. It is some recompense he is not alive to visit Parliament, where hangs the portrait of VD Savarkar, the man who inspired Nathuram Godse, the assassin of Gandhi. It is time we revisited the ideals that Mahatma Gandhi and Frontier Gandhi represented and held firm to them.
(This article is based on Rajmohan Gandhi’s Ghaffar Khan: Nonviolent Badshah of the Pakhtuns.)


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Opinion

Is the BJP really concerned about India’s poor?

The Kashmir Monitor

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By Alf Gunvald Nilsen

On January 9, the upper house of India’s parliament – the Rajya Sabha – passed a constitutional amendment to lift the cap on reservations in education and public sector jobs from 50 to 60 percent. The next step is for the bill to receive presidential assent, but its fate is still somewhat uncertain, given the possibility that it might not withstand judicial scrutiny and be struck down by the country’s Supreme Court.

What is certain is that this initiative has proven deeply controversial. Opposition parties have criticised its legality, intent, and practicability, while public intellectuals such as Pratap Bhanu Mehta has labelled it cynical politics and cynical policy.

 

Reservations are what passes for affirmative action in the Indian context, and entail, simply put, a percentage of state and central government jobs and seats in higher educational institutions being reserved for Dalits and other lower caste groups. This form of affirmative action has colonial antecedents, and was written into the constitutional backbone of India’s political system after the coming of independence as a means of improving the condition of groups who were thought to be suffering from social and educational backwardness.

Reservations were initially limited to Dalits (Scheduled Castes) and Adivasis (Scheduled Tribes). However, in the early 1990s, in accordance with the recommendations of the Mandal Committee Report, reservations were expanded to encompass other lower caste groups (Other Backward Classes) as well. In 1992, the Supreme Court imposed the 50 percent cap on reservations, which is currently in the process of being overturned, avowedly to avoid compromising the constitutional principle of equal access.
What is crucial about the constitutional amendment that has now successfully made it through parliament is the fact that it is delinked from caste. The additional 10 percent of reserved jobs and seats in higher educational institutions that is to be introduced by removing the current 50 percent cap is intended to benefit what the Modi government refers to as “economically weaker sections” that do not fall under the categories Scheduled Caste, Scheduled Tribe, or Other Backward Classes – that is, so-called general category poor.

Economically weaker sections are defined as households with an annual family income of less than $11,345 (800,000 rupees) a year, who do not own more than two hectares of agricultural land or a house that is larger than 1,000 square feet.

However, as commentator Ajaz Ashraf has pointed out, upper caste groups are expected to benefit disproportionately from this policy measure, as their high levels of education, as well as their accumulated social capital, will most likely enable them to corner most of the benefits.

This is why Modi’s scheme has come to be scorned as “upper caste reservations” that erase the fact that, in India, affirmative action was introduced specifically to remedy the indignity of caste-based discrimination. In this regard, it is also significant, of course, that the economic criteria for eligibility have been defined in such a way that nearly all Indian households qualify – a fact that, according to Supreme Court lawyer Karuna Nundy, renders the constitutional amendment nothing less than ridiculous.

Modi is making this move in no small part due to an electoral imbroglio that is emerging from his project of authoritarian populism. His electoral success in 2014 was based on the fact that he and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) managed to extend their base of support from the urban upper caste and middle class groups that have been the main supporters of Hindu nationalism in electoral politics to incorporate Other Backward Classes, Dalits, and Adivasis.

From 2016 onwards, this bloc began to crumble. Dalit and lower caste voters began to abandon the party, and Modi was the target of large-scale protests both by Dalits and farmers. Modi has attempted to stem this tide – for example by reversing the Supreme Court’s decision to relax the provisions of laws aimed to prevent violence and atrocities against Dalits – but this seems in turn to have resulted in the alienation of upper caste voters. As the 2019 general elections are looming on the horizon, Modi is now attempting to shore up the support of the BJP’s main vote base.

In doing so, he is appealing to upper caste and middle class groups who resent caste-based reservations due to the profoundly mistaken belief that affirmative action prevents social mobility based on merit. He is also attempting to appease Hindu nationalist hardliners who have recently called for caste-based reservations to be abandoned in favour of reservations based on economic criteria.

“Poverty does not see caste,” argues Desh Ratan Nigam – a leading activist with the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sang, the BJP’s ideological parent-body – and therefore reservations should be based on economic criteria.

How should progressive forces in India respond to this initiative? A good starting place is to point out that Nigam is as wildly incorrect in his assertion that poverty does not see caste as he was in his ludicrous claim that the Taj Mahal – which was built by the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan – was in fact a Hindu temple.

According to the Oxford Poverty and Development Initiative, 65.8 percent of India’s Dalits, who predominantly earn a living as wage labourers, and 58.3 percent of the country’s lower castes are poor. By contrast, 33 percent of the rest of the Indian population are poor. The fact that poverty in India is structured in this way testifies to the truth of the claim made by Dalit intellectual Anand Teltumbde that “beneath the veneer of a modern developing superpower, India remains a republic of caste.”

Closely linked to this must be the argument that reservations were never intended to be an anti-poverty measure, and that it is therefore disingenuous when the BJP speaks of it as such. However, this point in turn needs to be connected to a progressive critique of the limitations of reservations for the politics of social justice. Again, Anand Teltumbde’s reflections are instructive.

Reservations, he argues in a recent interview, were never about rooting out caste – if that had been the intention, the caste system as such would have been abolished, which it was not. Moreover, the persistence of dramatically low social development indicators among Dalits suggests that reservations have done little to achieve progressive change even on their own terms. Advancing social justice for Dalits, he suggests, has to be linked to a struggle for universal social citizenship, which can grant access to healthcare, education, and secure livelihoods.

This perspective provides a way in which to link struggles against the injustice of caste with the political economy of inequality in India – a political economy that is writ large in the fact that in a country which has grown at an average rate of 7.3 percent since 2007, 57 billionaires own as much wealth as the bottom 70 percent of the country’s population, while at the same time India’s social development indicators are much weaker than those found in far poorer neighbouring countries.

Importantly, that link is already being forged by Dalit activists who couple claims for dignity and recognition with demands for social justice and redistribution, and it is quite possible that it is struggles such as this that can consign the republic of caste to the dust heap of history where it belongs.

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Opinion

A Chinese ‘re-education’

The Kashmir Monitor

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By Muhammad Amir Rana

IN an interview with a Turkish television channel, Prime Minister Imran Khan completely sidestepped a question about the condition of Uighur Muslims in China’s western Xinjiang province. He admitted that he knew little about the issue, and, instead, preferred to focus on and highlight Chinese financial assistance and investment in Pakistan.

China is under stiff criticism for its alleged persecution of religious and ethnic minorities, especially Uighur Muslims. Freedom House’s 2018 country report on China classified it as ‘religiously-not-free’ on its freedom index. China is seriously concerned about this growing perception that hurts its efforts to promote a ‘soft image’ of China for a successful execution of its Belt and Road Initiative and other global commercial and strategic projects. Last week, China said that it welcomed UN officials to visit Xinjiang provided that they stay out of its internal affairs.

 

Pakistan usually avoids commenting on China’s internal affairs. But many Pakistani men, married to Chinese Uighur women, claim their spouses are being held in so-called re-education camps and are demanding their release. The issue has put Pakistan in a difficult position, mainly due to China’s huge investment in the country, as well as the extreme sensitivity of Chinese authorities to discussions on the subject.

Mystery continues to shroud the nature of the camps in Xinjiang.

Mystery continues to shroud China’s re-education camps, with authorities least interested in opening them up to independent observers. However, Chinese scholars claim that they are a part of the country’s countering violent extremism strategy, which was not built in isolation from rest of the world. They assert that China has designed its re-education strategy after carefully examining CVE approaches in practice in the West and Muslim world, which also employ similar community engagement programmes. Though they tend to justify their muscular approach by quoting examples from the Gulf, and South and Southeast Asian Muslim nations, the Chinese CVE strategy still appears highly politicised and opaque to Western practitioners and policymakers.

Much of the information about China’s re-education centres comes from West. Though the criticism has forced Chinese authorities to ‘release’ some information, it is insufficient to make a proper assessment. Last year, a state-run news agency published an interview of Shohrat Zakir, the Xinjiang governor, describing the camps as “professional vocational training institutions” for people influenced by terrorism and extremism who have not committed an offence warranting criminal punishment.

Similarly, in a seminar in China last November, local scholars explained China’s CVE approaches. Alluding to diverse and disparate CVE practices in different countries, they tended to conclude that no uniform or global CVE programme exists. One Chinese scholar presented a four-layered model based on the four principles of breaking, establishing, preventing and developing. ‘Breaking’ referred to isolating individuals from an extremist environment; ‘establishing’ meant introducing them to the true spiritual values of religion; ‘preventing’ was seen as educating; and ‘developing’ was interpreted as a skill development programme.

However, one of the best works available on the subject of China’s CVE strategy is by Zunyou Zhou, a Germany-based Chinese scholar. In a paper published in the Journal of Terrorism and Political Violence in 2017, he noted that the Chinese CVE strategy is based on multiple approaches and, interestingly, that they consulted Western CVE and deradicalisation approaches extensively and then built their own, more muscular model. The approaches include ‘five keys’, ‘four prongs’, ‘three contingents’, ‘two hands’ and ‘one rule’. Viewed together, these approaches point to legal, religious, cultural, ideological, and scientific aspects of the deradicalisation effort, implemented by governmental agencies, public institutions and non-governmental organisations in the region.

The Xinjiang government has developed several programmes to target different groups of people, including those who are ‘radicalised’ as well as those who are not but considered vulnerable to recruitment. The ‘five keys’ — ideological, cultural, customary, religious and legal — give a long-sustaining solution to terrorism. The ‘four prongs’ refer to a combination of four methods: ‘squeezing by correct faith’; ‘counteracting by culture’; ‘controlling by law’; and ‘popularising science’. ‘Squeezing by correct faith’ refers to clarifying people’s understanding of Islam while ‘counteracting by culture’ means seeking effective and practical solutions to thwart extremism and guiding people towards secularisation and modernisation. The ‘three contingents’ refer to the policy of reinforcing three main groups of people the government can count on to maintain stability and security. The ‘two hands’ refer to the one ‘firm hand’ that cracks down on terrorists, and the other ‘firm hand’ that educates and guides Uighur people, and the ‘one rule’ means the policy of ruling Xinjiang according to the law.

The author also provides historical background on the evolution of the Chinese CVE strategy and mentions that it materialised in a policy document entitled Several Guiding Opinions on Further Suppressing Illegal Religious Activities and Combating the Infiltration of Religious Extremism in Accordance with Law, issued by Xinjiang’s CCP Committee in May 2013. The policy document was also referred to as ‘No. 11 Document’, and described the borders between ethnic customs, normal religious practices and extremist manifestations.

For the CVE strategy’s smooth implementation, the Xinjiang authorities have introduced new legal regimes, and the latest amendment (titled ‘Regulation on Anti-Extremism’) was introduced in April 2017 to ban a wide range of extremist behaviours. Under the new legal framework, authorities have launched many programmes including deradicalisation for prisoners, and social programmes for those who have engaged in terrorism or extremism but do not deserve criminal punishment.

The re-education camps — or ‘rehabilitation centres’ — have been created as a part of China’s social programming. These centres run through civil society groups in Xinjiang or through ‘Fang Hui Ju’ working groups, dispatched by the regional government, comprising practitioners tasked with winning the hearts and minds of the people.

For CVE practitioners, the Chinese model may have a lot of substance to learn from. But the Uighur problem is more complex than religious extremism, as it has added dimensions of ethnic, cultural and political rights. For Pakistan, the Chinese CVE model offers nothing to learn from except to find a way of resolving the issue of Pakistani citizens’ spouses held in these camps.

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Opinion

Quota and bad faith

The Kashmir Monitor

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By Christophe Jaffrelot, Kalaiyarasan A

The constitutional amendment by the Modi government in order to introduce a 10 per cent quota for the poor within the “general” category looks like an attempt, five months before general elections, at wooing upper caste voters longing for the jobs that were to be part of “acche din”. This is at odds with the initial rationale of India’s positive discrimination programmes, which were intended to make up for past oppression — and not as an employment scheme.

This is not the only recent move by the BJP to cash in on reservation. While the constitutional amendment does not mention caste, Maharashtra Chief Minister Devendra Fadnavis has taken up the previous Congress government’s idea in favour of reservation for Marathas, the largest dominant caste asking for quotas. These initiatives contradict the traditional Hindu nationalist stand, expressed in the name of merit, against positive discrimination. The latter even clashes with the Sangh’s formula that gained momentum during the Mandal affair: If reservation had to take place, it had to be according to economic criteria. None of these initiatives could bear fruit because of the systematic rejection by the judiciary of quotas beyond 50 per cent — Tamil Nadu being the only exception.

 

In contrast, the Yogi Adityanath government is revisiting the existing quotas in Uttar Pradesh in a much more effective manner. After assuming office in 2017, the state BJP government had appointed an OBC Social Justice Committee headed by Justice Raghvendra Kumar. The committee submitted its report in 2018, recommending that the 27 per cent quota for the OBCs should be dispatched between three sub-categories: The Backward Classes (BCs) would get 7 per cent of the reservations, the Very Backward Classes (VBCs) 9 per cent and the Most Backward Classes (MBCs) 11 per cent. Among the BCs figured nine jatis out of 79 — including Yadavs, Kurmis, Kalwars, Kalals and Kallars. Among the VBCs were found 33 jatis, including Gujjars, Lodhs, Kacchhis and Gadariyas. And among the MBCs, were 37 jatis, including Mallahs, Nishads and Rajbhars. This subcategorisation, which has already been implemented by other states including Bihar, was justified on the grounds that the BCs, also called the “aristocratic class” in the report, had cornered most of the reservation benefits at the expense of the others. However, this assumption is not substantiated by any data in the report. Similarly, the status of the OBC castes under review is qualified arbitrarily. For instance, the BCs are presented as members or former members of the “Vaishya caste, the caste in the third position of the Varna system”. They are also described as “similar to Brahmins and Kshatriyas”. In contrast, the MBCs are shown in an unfavourable light, as people who “believe in magic” and “regularly consume local liquor in the evening”.

Whether the BCs do benefit more from positive discrimination than other OBCs is very difficult to determine. In fact, this is exactly what the UP government should have tried to ascertain. But we can use the Indian Human Development Survey to come to an approximate response. It shows that between 2004-5 and 2011-12 most of the large OBC jatis have improved their economic situation in the same proportion. Their annual per capita income (APCI) has multiplied by roughly three times: The Kurmis’ APCI has jumped from Rs 9,286 to Rs 25,989 and is second only to the Brahmins (ahead of the APCI of the “other upper castes”); the Yadavs’ has increased from Rs 5,623 to Rs 17,894, that of the Kacchhis from Rs 5,238 to Rs 15,064, that of the Telis from Rs 4,708 to Rs 12,789 and that of the Nishads from Rs 3,396 to Rs 12,596. Those who are lagging behind are the Jats, whose APCI multiplied by only two, from Rs 8,307 to Rs 17,867, like the Lodhs (from Rs 5,616 to Rs 10,300), whereas the Gadariyas were below doubling their income (from Rs 9,512 to 16,016) and the Rajbhars did slightly better (from Rs 5,351 to Rs 12, 476).

The three categories in the report are not applicable from the point of view of the percentage of caste members occupying salaried jobs as well. For instance, in 2011-12 this proportion reached 13 per cent in the case of Gadariyas (VBCs), whereas it was below 6 per cent among Kurmis (BCs). Incidentally, the Kurmis could hardly be accused of cornering reservation if less than 6 per cent of them had a salaried job — whereas Yadavs may be a more plausible usual suspect with 14.5 per cent. For Kurmis, the correlation between reservation and caste achievements works more in the case of education, since 8.3 per cent of them graduated in 2011-12. But it does not work in the case of the Yadavs, who have apparently not benefited more than others from reservation in the university, as only 4.7 per cent of them were graduates in 2011-12 — not more than Telis.

In fact, most of the BCs are either farmers or agricultural labourers, like the rest of the OBCs. In 2011-12, that was the case of, respectively, 68 per cent and 15 per cent of Kurmis, 56 per cent and 17 per cent of the Yadavs. In fact, the edge the Kurmis and Yadavs have over the others is actually due to their over-representation among the farmers and their under-representation among the agricultural labourers. In contrast, among the Kacchhis 45 per cent were farmers and 34 per cent labourers, the Nishads, were respectively 16 and 54 per cent, the Rajbhars, 16 and 64 per cent and even the Jats 31 and 64 per cent. To make the OBCs more egalitarian, the issue to address is less-related to reservations than to the agrarian structure. But, to announce new sub-quotas to caste groups which have been marginalised is easier than land reform.

The methodology of the OBC Social Justice Committee was flawed for two other reasons. First, while it intended to do justice to the poor, it continued to rely on caste — not class — as the unit of analysis. This contradiction is obvious in the case of the BCs, whose quotas will be reduced at the expense of the poor Yadavs and Kurmis who will have to compete with affluent Yadavs and Kurmis for fewer jobs and fewer seats in the university system if the report under review is implemented. Second, the “creamy layer” concept is not mentioned even once in this report, whereas it would make sense to adjust this notion in order to solve, at least partly, the contradiction we have just mentioned.

UP’s case shows that the way the state government is revisiting India’s model of positive discrimination is as debatable as the initiatives of the Modi government at the Centre and the Fadnavis government in Maharashtra. All this does not mean that the system does not need to be reformed in order to promote equality — besides other policies, including land reform. Reservation is far from a panacea, and definitely not an employment scheme. Incidentally, Hardik Patel, the leader of the Patidars who are asking for reservation in Gujarat, is now saying that better agricultural prices may be more important than quotas.

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