Anthropologist and historian, Nicholas Dirks, brings
together colonialism and its compulsions, and the politics that is inevitably
associated with knowledge generation, into a rather disturbing -- near
explosive -- mixture in Castes of Mind -- Colonialism and the Making of Modern
India.
Knowledge creation, especially in times of
colonialism, Dirks argues forcefully over more than 300 pages, is both
‘contingent and compromised”. It is driven by the requirements of a colonial/
imperial state and conditioned by the prevailing ideologies that work to
legitimate such a state and its continued existence.
The ‘colonial knowledge’, the generation of which
Dirks studies, pertains to Indian social organization and structures in general
and caste in particular, its use in Imperial rule and the consequences of this for
both Indian society and politics.
The Great Rebellion of 1857, the insecurities it
generated and the resultant transfer of power to the Crown gave a huge impetus
to what may be termed ‘colonial anthropology’ studies. The principal objective
of these studies was to understand the cultural drivers of the violent outbreak
that began in Meerut and cost a great deal of blood to subdue. The goal was
obviously to understand, so as to ensure no recurrence of such disturbances to
Imperial continuity. An interesting curiosity here is the significance of not
just state interests, compulsions and ideologies, but also that of the
individuals used by the state to further its desire to understand. The name of
HH Risley, senior bureaucrat, ethnographer, census commissioner, anthropometerist
and dedicated racist comes forcefully to mind here. Cometh the hour, cometh the
man!
Individuals aside, colonial researches into Indian
social structures yielded a very clearly defined, universally applicable, over
time and across sub-continental space, text based (The Manusmriti ) and Brahaminically articulated framework for
classification and labelling of Indian society and Indian populations. The
varna system as described to the British by their Brahamin educators, placed
the Brahmins at the head of a hierarchically structured society based on ritual
status. The framework was sanctioned by ancient religious tradition, universally
applicable, fixed and unchanging. It essentially characterized a static,
divided society, backward and in dire need of a modernizing paternalistic
Imperial state. The modernizations would necessarily be gradual and the
Imperium would, therefore, extend far into the foreseeable future.
The Imperial administrators carefully did not note the
fact that the ‘ideal’ varna system described was far removed from the realities
of social structures on the ground. Social organization varied enormously over
time and across regions; caste structures were flexible, especially when you
went beyond the Brahmin space, and political, military and economic power were,
all too often, clearer markers of status than nominal caste.
The Census became the primary tool for gathering
information about Indian society, to rule it more effectively than in the past.
The first All India Census was held over 1871 and 1872 and the primary
classification used was varna. The attempt to pigeonhole all the myriad jatis
found on the ground into the standard varna framework, however, created
enormous problems. The response of the population was disruptive in the extreme.
Large numbers of representations were received for ‘correct’ varna status,
identification of varna became difficult as occupational markers did not
correspond to status claimed and some varnas simply could not be found in any
numbers in some regions. The vast majority of the population in many areas was
lumped into the Sudra varna ignoring the extensive variety and differentiation
within that category and the significance of markers other than caste, denoting
status. Varna was simply not good enough a means of labelling and classifying
the population of the subcontinent.
Caste was removed from census enumeration in 1931 but
the politicization of caste had been firmly established by the significance
given to it in all matters official -- army recruitment (creating ‘martial’
races), maintenance of law and order (labeling certain castes as ‘criminal
castes’), recruitment to government positions (affirmative action for minority
groups, both religious and caste based), to list but a few.
The ‘knowledge ‘derived from the census had other
significant consequences too; the communalization of political behaviour --
formation of separate electorates for ‘different groups’ -- being the most
damaging of all.
In essence, the Raj used its rather inadequate
understanding of Indian society to both create and, where they already existed,
amplify distinctions and differences in society. To divide and thereby to rule
was the objective of the exercise. Unity would be dangerous to the Empire and
so difference was emphasized.
The price of this Imperial exercise in the acquisition
and use of knowledge as and for power, led to ‘fiction creating history’ and a
very bitter history at that. Caste as we know it today is ‘a creation’ of
British Imperialism.
All too often a reaction to Dirks’ theses, some of
which are highlighted above, is skepticism and non-acceptance. But when one
sits back to try and work out how one knows what one knows, the conclusions can
be disturbing.
Joan Robinson wrote in Economic Philosophy words to
the effect that Freud taught us to question our motives -- why do we want what
we want. Perhaps Dirks can push us to wondering how we know what we know and
how that piece of knowledge was ‘created’ and why.
Castes of Mind is a difficult read, aggravated by the
purple phrases that pepper the pages and make one reach for the dictionary and
tear one’s hair out at the same time!
Nonetheless, the book is both challenging and
provocative; well worth the effort involved in working through it.
Happy reading.
