Caste discrimination is sometimes understood as a fringe behaviour. I want to focus on this issue here. We have not really discussed what this caste ‘discrimination’ consists of and why such a behavior is found objectionable. I would like to begin such a discussion by focusing on one aspect (and only one aspect) for the time being. Let me begin with two examples (or anecdotes) that allow this aspect to come into focus.
1. About two years ago, during the first RRI[1] conference in Delhi, I was invited by some Sadhus from Swami Narayan Temple (BAPS) to visit the temple and have a discussion with them. Because they practice very strict Brahmacharya (eight types of avoiding women, each correlated to an organ: it is called Ashtanga Brahmacharya), the Sadhus said that women could not be present during our discussions, while they were welcome to visit the temple. As I remember the incident, both Sarah and Marianne [two of my students] were a bit ‘upset’ (hurt, insulted, indignant, or whatever) that the Sadhus were not able to meet them and felt discriminated against by virtue of their sex. A few years later, one of my teachers from Belgium visited another wing of the Swami Narayan people and found that ‘women were discriminated against’ because they were allowed only to come some distance from the temple when the Sadhus were present. In both cases, I was puzzled by their reaction: I explained that the action of the Sadhus should not be seen as an act of discrimination against women but as an expression of the strict Brahmacharya that the Sadhus practiced. The question here is: why did these people (my students and my teacher, [all of them are from Europe]) experience ‘discrimination’, where I saw none and also knew that none was intended?
2. During the early part of this year, I had an occasion to read some pages of a book together with a few people in India. The book is ‘The Language of the Gods in the World of Men’ by Sheldon Pollock: it is about ‘Medieval’ India, the role of Sanskrit and many other things about the Indian culture. He talks about the role of Sanskrit in Ancient India in these terms: because Sanskrit was used primarily in the context of rituals during its early days, says Pollock, its role was both limited and exclusive. It was limited in the sense that it was used primarily in ‘Vaidika’ practices and exclusive in the sense that only a few could speak Sanskrit, while the most were ‘forbidden’ from using it. Of course, there is no shred of evidence that ‘people’ were forbidden from using Sanskrit for other purposes or that other groups (than the four varnas) were ‘forbidden’ from learning Sanskrit, even though one can reasonably assume that most groups did not speak or understand Sanskrit. This ‘sacerdotal isolation’ (his words) of Sanskrit, says Pollock, indicated both its limited and exclusive nature. He believes that this expressed inequality and discrimination in Ancient India. There is a puzzle here. How does Pollock ‘know’ that there was discrimination, when there is absolutely no evidence for it? Consider the language I speak at home: Sankethi. Only those born into Sankethi community learn this language and one does not ‘teach’ this language to other people. Does it follow from this consideration that, therefore, there is discrimination against other peoples and groups in India? In fact, most people in India have not heard of Sankethi and see no reason to learn this language at all. So, if a particular group develops a language for some purpose or another and does not ‘teach’ it to all the people in the world, does it mean one discriminates? Why cannot one develop a language (like Sankethi was developed) only for use within a restricted number of people? What is discriminatory about it? The only possible way to speak of discrimination, in this case, is if one assumes that languages ‘ought’ to be universally accessible and that one ‘ought’ to teach everyone every possible language.
3. Common to both these examples is their ‘normative’ assumption. The first assumes that the Sadhus ought to be accessible to all people and that, if they are not that, they are discriminating. The temple ought not only to be accessible to all (the Swami Narayan temple is accessible to all) but that it also ‘ought’ to be so at all times and in all circumstances. Any restriction is a case of discrimination. Equally, in the second example, every language ‘ought’ to be accessible to all people at all times and in all circumstances. (Think about this issue when children devise ‘codes’ and ‘secret languages’ to communicate only with close friends.) More generally put, everything ought to be accessible to all people at all times and in all circumstances. Such a normative assumption is ridiculous, of course: no one claims that my wife or my house should be accessible to all people in all circumstances and at all times. (In such cases, the scope gets restricted in an ad hoc fashion: every one ‘ought’ to be able to have a wife or have a house. What about homosexuals or those who prefer tents on a beach? Again, an ad hoc restriction comes into existence and the discussion shifts to other levels.) In other words, the notion of ‘discrimination’ is very plastic and it is used (as it suits the prejudices of individuals) as one likes it.
4. Consider now one aspect of such caste discrimination: marriage among ‘savarnas’ or the issue of inter-caste marriage. If a Brahmin seeks a Brahmin spouse (and refuses to marry outside the ‘caste’), it is said to indicate ‘caste discrimination’. What is discriminatory about it? The only possible argument is that the ‘search space’ has been restricted. The normative claim is that one ‘ought’ to be ready to search everywhere and that if you search only in one ‘space’ then you are discriminating other ‘spaces’. This is silly: no one can search everywhere at the same time: one can only search in some specific space. Does it mean that because you search in one space you are discriminating against other places? (A problem in scientific research is well-structured if and only if it restricts the search space for the answer: the narrower the search space is the better is the problem formulation.) So, what is discriminatory about this? Only a normative assumption can do this job: one ought to search everywhere and one ought to marry wherever one finds a possible spouse. (Surely, you cannot get more foolish than this.) What if I want to marry only a Brahmin? What if this is my preference? What is wrong with this? (This normative assumption leads to the denial of personal preferences in marriage and imposes an obligation - an ‘ought’ - to marry. But if you marry one, you cannot marry all other women. Surely, this is also discrimination?)
5. The point is this: if I want to marry within one community, it does not follow that, therefore, I am discriminating against other communities. If only some people speak some language or another, it does not follow, that, therefore, they are discriminating against all other people. If the Sadhus practice Brahmacharya, it does not follow, therefore, that they are discriminating against women. In each of these cases, one is choosing one option and choice of one option does not discriminate against other choices. Only a totally silly normative assumption can transform a necessary behaviour (choosing a particular option) into a discriminatory act. Of course, those who see discrimination in this are also intelligent: they shift grounds to point out well-known (real or imagined) cases of violence: those who marry members from other ‘castes’ are killed or beaten up or whatever by ‘high caste’ families. Again, this does not do the job: the violence is heinous, but it is not the case of caste discrimination but one of not following the wishes of the family members. It further also assumes that one ‘ought’ to be free in the choice of a spouse and that any ‘interference’ in this (including ‘arranged marriages’) are a blemish on the Indian culture.
6. In other words, before we start speaking about caste ‘discrimination’, it would be wise if we reflect on which normative assumptions are involved in such judgement and whether they are reasonable and defensible. Simply reproducing the common sense criticisms of the Indian ‘caste system’ will not do. Thus, there is much that requires doing before one can come up with a message that political parties can transmit.
This post created a flurry of responses comprising of both counter and supporting arguments. You will see some of them in this section.
Most people pointed out the following. “A number of instances of caste discrimination that one typically hears about, such as separate glasses to drink or not being allowed into certain spaces may be characterized by certain normative assumptions that are not defensible. After all it is not that one allows everybody into one’s house or uses the same crockery for everybody. However the problem arises when you enter certain other spheres outside the home, as illustrated in the following hypothetical situation. Say, X person is denied medical treatment or job opportunities on the ground of his ‘caste’ or (rather the social group he belongs to) and this is therefore ‘caste discrimination’. Perhaps the assumption that characterizes such judgment is that certain spheres and services are public (have to be accessible to everybody) and are also essential (they are needed for an individual to achieve a good life). In such a case, I was wondering, what is really wrong with such an assumption? Furthermore, how would we distinguish between such a situation and a situation in the West wherein X person may find himself deprived of access to certain facilities and opportunities on the ground of race and it would be seen as an instance of "racial discrimination"? It would seem that the same assumption would characterize such a judgment as well”.
Consider the following contrast case. Let us imagine that, in one instance, person X is denied medical treatment on the ground of his "caste". In another situation, person Y is denied medical treatment (say heart surgery) on the ground of his not having the necessary money for paying the bill. The question we have to answer now is this: Why is the latter not a case of discrimination?
Let me reformulate the question: "A hypothetical situation - X person is denied medical treatment or job opportunities on the ground of his "caste" or (rather the social group he belongs to) and this is therefore "caste discrimination"" You rightly point out a fragment of the normative assumption: "certain spheres and services are public (have to be accessible to everybody) and are also essential (they are needed for an individual to achieve a good life)". Your question is what is wrong with this assumption. The above paragraph has already answered this question. Let me elaborate on that point.
1. In the first place, I have not heard of people being turned away from a doctor or a hospital in India on grounds of their ‘jati’. I have heard of any number of cases in the US (see Moore’s brilliant documentary ‘Sicko’ on the American Health Care System), where people are turned away from hospitals or denied medical treatments because they do not have the ‘right’ insurance policy. Many have died too because of that. Yet, we do not speak of ‘discrimination’ (of any kind) in these cases but only of the kind of health care system that the US has. However, we would not hesitate to convict either the Indian culture or Hinduism of ‘caste discrimination’, if any such incident were to occur in India.
2. In the second place, even were we to assume that people are turned away from a hospital or denied medical treatment because of their ‘jati’, I am not so sure what makes it into a ‘caste discrimination’. If the hospital is established with the explicit goal of helping ‘everyone’ without any condition whatsoever and the doctor has sworn the Hippocratic oath of helping ‘everyone’ who asks for his help, then, in such cases, if they then turn away suffering human beings on grounds of their ‘jati’, yes, there is a violation. Even here, it is either the hospital or the doctor (or both) who are guilty. However, they are guilty of violating either the stated goal or the sworn oath. This is not so much an ‘instance’ of caste discrimination as it is of violating the explicit goals and oaths.
3. The same consideration applies to job opportunities. If, and only if, a firm or an institution opens up an job with an explicit claim that no other conditions apply for success except, say, academic qualifications and, despite this, chooses less qualified people on grounds of their ‘jati’ then, yes, there is discrimination on the basis of ‘caste’. However, when being born in a jati is considered a sufficient qualification or a college run by, say, a religious institution chooses people on the basis of their religious leanings, what kind of discrimination is involved?
4. Just because someone is denied access to some service or another on the basis of ‘caste’ or ‘race’, that alone is not sufficient to transform such an act into a ‘discriminatory’ act. It becomes that only when the explicitly stated condition allows everyone who satisfies the said condition to have access to that service and, yet, denies someone from accessing that service (even though the condition is satisfied) on some other unstated ground (say, ‘race’ or ‘caste’).
5. In other words, what I am suggesting is that we examine very carefully the normative assumptions involved in our judgements to test them for defensibility. Not every alleged case of ‘caste discrimination’ is also a case of caste discrimination.
Once someone asked me the following question: why is the following not a case of discrimination! When a public hospital denies treatment to a patient, it breaches the norm which gives such institution legitimacy. The hospital is run by the State for all citizens of the country. When institutions that were established and run by normative standards breach such a standard, then why should we hesitate to call even that discrimination?”
When a hospital (under some conditions) is meant to treat all the citizens of India and refuses to treat some of them because of other considerations that are non-technical in nature, such a hospital is violating the legal requirements. If these legal requirements are also moral in nature (this requires additional moral assumptions), then, and only then, could we speak of them as also being morally discriminatory.
As one can notice, the discussion, as it began, was not about discrimination as such, but about caste discrimination. The question ‘what or when is discrimination?’ might be interesting but does not pertain to the discussion on hand. The question about caste discrimination can be formulated thus: What is caste discrimination? When is an instance of caste discrimination really an instance of ‘discrimination’? The second question can be reformulated thus: When is caste discrimination immoral? Apparently, caste is a way we Indians distinguish people: a Brahman is not a Lingayat, and a Madiga is different from Shetty. The question then is, when is an action based on such a distinction becomes unfair/immoral?
An instances of immoral discrimination presupposes a list of normative principles – oughts and ought nots – already in place. This means, not committing caste discrimination only means acting according to these principles. This should raise many questions. Who has set out the principles of moral conduct, vis-à-vis caste, and what are they based on? In any case, this much should be obvious: if and if only the presupposed moral conduct is reasonable and defensible, an act of caste discrimination becomes immoral.
In order to discuss whether a given instance of caste discrimination is immoral or not, one has to first find out the assumption that renders the action in question immoral. One has to then find out if the given assumption is justifiable or not. If the assumptions involved can be justified, then the instance of caste discrimination can be judged immoral, on the grounds of the justified assumptions.
Let us now turn to the examples of refusing medical treatment to a person (a) in India, on the grounds of caste, and (b) in the US, on the grounds of not having a proper medical insurance. The instances of ‘a’ is generally considered as instances of discrimination, but not the instances of ‘b’. To see ‘a’ as immoral, one has to assume that state is public, and assume the principle that it has to treat all its citizens equally, without taking the caste as a reason for differentiating them. In such a case, despite fulfilling all other requirements, if a person is refused some service, just because s/he belongs to a particular caste, it can be termed as an instance of caste discrimination. This raises many questions. Here is one of them: how do we find out whether all other requirements are fulfilled and only caste is the basis of discrimination, in a given instance? If we can never find that out, how can we jump to the conclusion that a given instance is an instance of caste discrimination? Anyway, let us presume that this is somehow proved, either during the arbitration in the court or in a research. There is still an unanswered question, which is rather more important: Why does ‘a’ generally appear to be a case of ‘discrimination’, and not ‘b’? This is possible, I want to suggest, only if we make a specific distinction between ‘a’ and ‘b’.
In order to understand this distinction, let me reformulate the actions ‘a’ and ‘b’ in the negative terms of prohibitions: (a) do not discriminate people on the basis of their castes; (b) do not discriminate people on the basis of their economic class (possession of medical insurance and such like). In the Western cultural common sense, ‘b’ is as a supererogatory action: i.e., it is a morally good action but not (strictly/legally) required. Indians generally do not make a distinction between ‘a’ and ‘b’, because the distinction between moral duties and supererogatory actions do not make sense to them.[2] In the eyes of the law (both in India and the west), and also probably in the eyes of the ‘educated’ Indians, ‘b’ is a supererogatory act, but ‘a’ is just a duty. If so, the violation of ‘a’ can be seen only as a blatant discrimination, while the violation of ‘b’, even if criticised, is not seen as an instance of discriminatory action.
6. If this argument holds, some of its implications are disturbing, to say the least. It seems now that the law in, say, the US, is consistent with its cultural common sense. They both (the law and common sense, i.e.) have no problem in accepting ‘b’ as a supererogatory action. Why in India the situation is different? Let us presume, for the sake of argument, that caste communities direct their members to favour their own group members and not others. The situation then is this: an Indian doctor has at least two sets of rules to obey when he confronts a patient from another caste: the rules of the state and of his caste group. Which rule should he follow and why? To argue that he should follow the state rule, one has to show that (i) state is a higher authority and therefore its rules should prevail over those of the caste community, or (ii) the doctor in question got the job on the basis of, among other things, a promise that he will follow the state rules and hence he should either follow them or quit the job. If ‘ii’ is true, then any violation of state rule is hypocrisy and also illegal. Similarly, following the state rule and disobeying the caste rules also makes someone unlawful. Does that mean then, in India, one can only choose between the devil and the deep blue sea! Let me stop here.
Is Caste Unethical / Immoral?
If much of the western description makes the caste system synonymous with India, caste also appears as ubiquitous to the Indians as the very air they breathe. From politicians to political pundits, from the pimps to the Prime Minister – all of us seem to belong to the caste system. Most intellectuals, from the extreme right to the extreme left, have firm opinions on the subject. Quite a few theories float around as purported explanations of the caste system. Some see a deformed class-relation in it, others a fossilised coalition of associations. Some see hygienic principles operative in the caste system, yet others some transaction rules. Some call it racial segregation, whereas others see in it the propensity of human beings to maximise fitness through extended nepotism.
Whatever one’s thoughts on the subject, most intellectuals appear to agree that the caste system is an obsolete form of social organisation. Its obsolescence is indexed by the hindrance it offers to everything that is desirable: progress, economic development, social equality, and justice … Without exaggeration, it could be said to be the bane of our society and culture. The caste system epitomises everything that is bad and backward.
Why does this caste system so stubbornly refuse to disappear? How to eradicate this impediment to progress? The existing answer, in both theory and practice, is surprisingly simple: the caste system persists because of ‘prejudice’ and that is what one should remove. What kind of prejudice? Let us run through some of them quickly: the prejudice of ‘untouchability’; the prejudice that the accident of birth condemns one to servitude; the prejudice that the Brahmins belong to a superior ‘caste’ because of ‘Karma’. … Not only is this a well-known list, so also are the anecdotes that accompany it: horror stories of discrimination against the Harijans by the upper-caste groups, denial of basic human rights to some people, refusal to allow entry into temples or to partake food and water, etc. As this anecdotal discourse progresses, it transpires that the caste system is virtually synonymous with untouchability, moral discrimination, the denial of human rights, and so on. That is, these (and allied) prejudices are instilled in people from their birth, and the caste system is kept alive through practising these prejudices. Very simply put: caste system is a set of immoral practices.
1. Let us get some grip on the extent of the immorality of the caste system by comparing it to other large-scale (immoral) phenomena we know. For example, discrimination against the minorities in the US is not a social organisation, even though it is a social phenomenon. The apartheid regime was both the policy of a government and a regime imposed on society, but it was not a social structure. Fascism was a political movement (and a state form) and was unstable. Caste system is, in some sense, all of these but is also much more. It has survived onslaughts from Buddhism, Bhakti movements, colonialism, the Indian reformers, the current Indian legislation, and the western theorists. Clearly, we have a unique, sui generis phenomenon on our hands. It is more evil than colonialism and the concentration camps, more widespread than ethnic discrimination, and has a longer history than slavery.
2. However, when we say that the caste system is a set of immoral practices, we are actually saying at least two things: that these practices are immoral and that they are (logically or mathematically) ordered. (Actually we are saying more, but that does not concern us in here.) While one might be willing to grant that the practices (like the ones indicated above) are immoral, it might not be obvious why the caste system becomes an immoral system. The answer is simple: ’caste’ is an ordered and structured system. Any social organisation, if anything is a social organisation then the caste system is, is ordered and structured. The immorality of this social organisation consists in the fact that it imposes immoral obligations in an ordered and systematic way. That is to say, caste system is an immoral social order in this double way: not only does the practice of caste discrimination violate certain moral norms but, as a social order, it makes immorality obligatory.
3. Let us now shift our attention to those belonging to the system. When is someone, anyone, immoral? Only when one willingly chooses to act in an immoral way. That is, the action has to be voluntary and must be the result of a choice in the presence of relevant alternatives. The caste system might impose immoral obligations, but each individual can choose not to follow them. Buddhism to the Bhakti movements illustrate this. From this, it follows that those who are within the caste system – and remain within it – are immoral (in a systematic way). Under this condition, except for the individual heroes who have opted out, all other Indians become immoral. (After all, there is caste division among the Christians, Harijans, and the schedules of the Indian constitution.) One could weaken this conclusion by arguing that:
(a) Not all obligations imposed by the caste system are immoral. Quite obviously, it makes no difference whether someone commits one immoral act systematically, or two or three.
(b) The ideology of the caste system ‘hides’ the immoral nature of its obligations. If you and I see through this cloak, as did the movements from Buddhism through Bhakti, those who do not see through the cloak must be intellectually weak. That is, they are immoral because of their intellectual deficiency.
(c) The caste system is sold as ‘the natural law’ (karma, for example) and those who accept it believe in rebirth and its rewards, moksha and such like. From this, it follows that all these doctrines justify immorality and are, therefore, immoral as well. In so far as these doctrines have to do with our ‘culture’ (or ‘religions’), it follows too that our culture and its ‘religions’ are fundamentally immoral as well.
4. I do not want to go into all possible (and encountered) arguments. So, let me sum up. The caste system is the embodiment of ethical corruption. Such a stance requires that Indians are either immoral or cretins, and suggests that Indian ‘culture’ and ‘religions’ are immoral as well. The way the ‘masses’ talk about corruption mimics the way the intelligentsia talks about caste and corruption: Indians are immoral and corrupt. Not merely that. In so far as corruption and caste are successful and rational strategies of social survival, the ‘norms’ that generate such strategies must themselves be immoral. The conclusion is inescapable: Indian ethics must itself be immoral.
[1] The first Rethinking Religion Conference, which was held in New Delhi in January 2008. For more info, see: http://www.rethinkingreligion.org/?page=conference_2008 (Accessed 03 February 2011).
[2] This is a simple but logical conclusion. Supererogatory actions are that part of the moral actions, which cannot be turned into legal obligations or duties. It follows, therefore, that the distinction between supererogatory actions and moral obligations presupposes the existence of the notion of moral actions. If, in India, we do not have a conception of moral actions (i.e., `normative ethics') then the aforementioned distinction should not make sense to us.