Why The Right Must Own The Narrative Around Caste Census, Not Run From It

The Government of India announced on 30 April that the upcoming population census will include comprehensive caste data as well.

This marks the first time in nearly a century that such detailed caste enumeration will be conducted, as the last full caste census was held in 1931 under the British rule.

The decision comes after years of political debate and pressure from various quarters, including opposition parties and state governments, who have conducted their own caste surveys in recent years. However, the decision has also sparked a renewed debate about the role of caste in Indian society and politics.

A caste census is not an act of rupture — it is an act of recognition. And yet, in much of India’s right-of-centre discourse, it has been framed as a tool of division, one that signals the end of Hindu unity, encourages identity politics, and hands ammunition to the Left.

The real challenge isn't whether caste exists. It does — in matrimonial ads, in access to education, in social hierarchies, and in bureaucratic representation. The real challenge is who gets to define and deploy it.

Until now, the caste question has been ceded entirely to the 'secular' Left, which uses it as a perpetual indictment of Hindu society. But the moment the Hindu Right embraces the caste census as a necessary internal audit — a mirror, not a machete — it can transform the narrative from accusation to agency.

This is not Mandal 2.0. Nor is it Mandal 3.0. It is Mandal 2.5 — a recalibration within, not expansion without. The demand is not more reservations, but better reservations — better distributed, better targeted, and better justified. The caste census offers a crucial opportunity to map internal monopolies, redistribute social capital within Hindu society, and initiate a more ethical, dharmic form of governance.

It is time the Hindu Right stopped reacting to the caste census with fear and instead claimed it with confidence — as a tool for justice, a method for internal correction, and a step toward long-term social consolidation.

Sub-Categorisation and the End of Faux Social Coalitions

For decades, India's reservation system has been treated as a uniform balm over deep, uneven wounds. But within every broad category — Scheduled Castes (SC), Scheduled Tribes (ST), and Other Backward Classes (OBC) — there are hierarchies, monopolies, and inequalities that data continues to obscure.

Take the Yadavs among OBCs in Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. Traditionally considered to be a community of cattle-herders, they are today among the top land-owning communities and also enjoy a dominance in political positions. Similarly, Meenas in Rajasthan, a dominant ST group, have acquired near-complete administrative and political control of benefits meant for the ST community. Among SCs, Jatavs in UP have become politically powerful — often at the cost of less mobilised SC communities.

This is not a critique of the rise of these communities, but a record of the absence of others from the same broad category.

The caste census offers an empirical basis to open the gates again — and ensure that representation within the marginalised is not monopolised.

Nowhere is this imbalance clearer than in Tamil Nadu, according to Swarajya journalist S Rajesh. Here, the Arunthathiyars — a relatively small SC community — benefit from a 3 per cent internal sub-quota within the 18 per cent SC reservation. But because of the way rosters are structured, they often end up disproportionately filling seats meant for all SCs.

For example:

• In institutions where fewer than seven SC vacancies arise, Arunthathiyars always get the first spot.

• In universities where each department is treated separately, Arunthathiyars often end up monopolising SC seats.

Rajesh contends that this has led to resentment among Paraiyars and Devendra Kula Vellalars, who feel excluded from a system supposedly built for them all. While the DMK initially tried to address this, political fears of internal SC backlash stalled reform. A caste census can change that — not by stoking conflict, but by providing evidence to finally act justly.

From Rajbhars in eastern UP to Mahishyas in Bengal, tea tribes in Assam to Pasis, Kurmis, Lodhs, and Matua-Namashudras, many groups have long claimed that their voices are lost under the larger umbrella of "OBC" or "SC". Without enumeration, there can be no recognition. Without recognition, there can be no justice. And without justice, caste-based mobilisation will continue to be led by dominant elites within the groups — defeating the very purpose of affirmative action.

The demand, therefore, is not for fragmentation. It is for fairness within categories. For sub-categorisation based on data. For making reservation systems work for the least powerful, not the most politically entrenched.

Since the days of Mandal politics, India's caste discourse has been less about representation and more about mobilisation — the ability of political elites to form rainbow coalitions of backward groups under a dominant sub-caste leadership. This model, perfected by parties like the Samajwadi Party (SP) and Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD), relies on a convenient fiction: that all OBCs or SCs are politically, socially, and economically equal.

They are not.

The Yadavisation of OBC politics in Bihar and Uttar Pradesh or the Jatav-centric Dalit politics of UP shows how dominant sub-castes have become de facto gatekeepers of state welfare. Political parties, chasing votes, had little incentive to disturb this hegemony.

The result? A narrative of equality masking deep internal inequality.

A caste census would upend this political equilibrium. It would shine light on how benefits are distributed, not just to whom they are offered. For instance:

• Are Rajbhars or Kurmis adequately represented in jobs, universities, and panchayats?

• Do Namashudras and Matua groups have bureaucratic parity with Jatavs?

• What share of welfare schemes and development funds are accessed by non-Meena STs in Rajasthan?

This data would empower sub-castes to demand their due. More importantly, it would shift caste politics from identity to delivery — from top-down mobilisation to bottom-up representation.

In this scenario, parties would be compelled to respond to specific community demands, not just symbolic leaders. A demand-led caste discourse — grounded in numbers — would erode performative social coalitions and replace them with authentic representational claims.

Once data clarifies who's left out and who's hoarding benefits, state welfare can become targeted rather than politicised. For example:

• If Pasis or Bhantus are underrepresented in UPSC results despite being SC, they deserve targeted schemes.

• If Mahishyas in Bengal have lower job access despite being OBC, that’s a governance gap — not a communal one.

The conservative critique, grounded in fears about the erosion of merit and the expansion of quotas, are both understandable and sincere. However, upon closer scrutiny, these fears largely miss the mark, and the caste census should be viewed not as a threat but as a significant opportunity for recalibration and fairer governance.

A prevailing concern among conservatives is that the caste census could pave the way for demands that push beyond the Supreme Court's established 50 per cent ceiling on reservations. Many worry that this could lead to reservations in the private sector, which would undermine merit-based hiring and selection processes.

However, these fears are not grounded in the legal and political realities that govern India’s reservation framework. The 50 per cent cap on reservations, enshrined through judicial rulings, is not something that can be easily breached. Any attempt to extend quotas beyond this limit would require a reinterpretation of constitutional principles and explicit judicial sanction. Given the Supreme Court’s careful approach to reservations in the past, it is highly unlikely that it would permit a breach of the cap without concrete and well-documented justification based on empirical data.

Furthermore, while the idea of extending reservations to the private sector stirs anxiety, it is highly unlikely to materialize in practice. The private sector in India, unlike the public sector, holds significant lobbying power and has consistently resisted any form of reservation. The sheer legal, logistical, and economic challenges of enforcing such quotas make it a non-starter for most policymakers, even those sympathetic to social justice causes. The corporate sector’s resistance to any move toward quotas is strong enough that it would be politically unfeasible for any government to impose such measures.

Finally, the caste census does not automatically call for an expansion of reservations. Its true value lies in enabling the rationalization and targeting of existing quotas.

Hindu Unity without Fairness is Hollow

A more emotional critique argues that any focus on caste differentiation undermines Hindu unity, especially after the Right has focused on the “Batenge toh katenge” narrative. Some fear that emphasizing caste divisions could play into the hands of the Left, further fragmenting Hindu society at a time when unity is crucial for the nation’s collective progress. The fear is that counting and categorising caste identities will reopen old wounds, pit one Hindu against another, and undo decades of work toward a unified civilisational identity.

This concern, while emotionally resonant, misunderstands the nature of Hindu unity and what sustains it. Unity that is founded on ignoring the voices of the historically excluded is fragile at best. If Hindu unity is to be meaningful, it must be grounded in justice and trust — and trust is only possible when marginalized groups are empowered and their voices are heard.

By acknowledging and addressing the systemic barriers that still keep certain groups on the periphery, the census can help create a more inclusive Hindu identity — one that speaks to the concerns of all Hindus, not just the elite of each category.

To ask these communities to commit to abstract unity while material hierarchies remain unaddressed is to ask for allegiance without accountability.

Unlike the Abrahamic idea of unity as sameness, the Indic tradition has always been about diversity in harmony — not forced uniformity. In this framework, different castes, traditions, and schools of thought coexisted within a larger dharmic umbrella. Justice and proportionality, not sameness, were the binding glue.

In that spirit, a caste census is not a threat but an opportunity to rebalance the scales — to align the lofty rhetoric of Hindu unity with the ground realities of Hindu society.

By ensuring every Hindu group feels seen, heard, and empowered, the caste census can bring about a second social contract — one where unity flows from fairness, not from fear or force.

Caste enumeration allows communities to make their needs known without shame. It also prevents tokenism, where one or two elite members from a group become symbolic representatives while the rest languish. Instead, real data opens the door to authentic representation and community-level trust.

If Hindu unity is to survive the churn of democracy, modernisation, and social aspiration, it must be recast not in terms of sameness, but in terms of shared justice. The caste census can be that bridge.

Moreover, the caste census provides a way to counter the Left’s narrative on caste by offering data-driven, fair solutions rather than simply relying on rhetorical appeals to unity. By owning the caste conversation and focusing on empowerment and representation, the Hindu Right can transform the discourse from one of victimhood to one of constructive reform.

In doing so, it will help ensure that the conversation around caste is no longer hijacked by 'secularist' or anti-Hindu forces but remains rooted in the principles of justice and equality.

To fully appreciate the caste census in the Hindu civilisational arc, we must understand it as part of a long ideological evolution:

• Hindutva 1.0: Rooted in the post-Independence quest for identity in a hostile Nehruvian state. This phase was about survival and memory — asserting Hindu visibility in public discourse.

• Hindutva 2.0: Marked by the BJP’s electoral rise. This phase focused on nationalism, security, and pride. It was about visibility turning into legitimacy.

• Hindutva 3.0: The next phase must be about governance, justice, and internal reform. It must address inequities within the Hindu fold and redistribute social capital so that Hindu unity is not merely symbolic but structural.

The caste census is not a threat to Hindutva — it is its next logical step. It is what moves Hindutva from the streets to the state, from identity assertion to civilisational engineering.

Why the Hindu Right Must Lead, Not Follow

For decades, the Hindu Right has responded to the caste debate defensively — sidestepping, diluting, or outright denying its importance. Caste has been treated as a pollutant in an otherwise glorious narrative of Hindu civilisation. But this approach has only ceded ground to the Left, which now dominates the language, emotion, and direction of caste discourse.

This must change.

The caste census gives the Hindu Right a once-in-a-generation opportunity — not just to correct internal distortions, but to reclaim the caste debate as a matter of internal reform, not external attack.

Caste lives in everyday life: matrimonial ads, job applications, school rosters, political tickets. Ignoring it does not make it disappear. Instead, it strengthens the claim that the Hindu Right is disconnected from ground realities — and worse, indifferent to injustice within its own fold.

Left-liberal thought has long portrayed caste as a civilisational sin — a structural rot embedded in Hinduism itself. This framing gives legitimacy to conversion-based liberation, NGO-led social engineering, and endless cycles of blame without constructive solutions.

The Hindu Right can flip the script.

By embracing caste enumeration, it can reframe caste as a familial challenge, not a foreign fracture. Hindu society has the spiritual and philosophical resources to engage in atma-chintan (introspective correction) — if only it accepts the problem honestly. 

A caste census becomes the data foundation for this civilisational spring cleaning.

In regions like the Northeast, Tamil Nadu, and pockets of Bengal, caste-based narratives are already being hijacked by evangelist and Islamist groups. These forces weaponise caste discrimination to fuel conversion campaigns and sow discontent within the Hindu fold.

A Hindu-led, caste-aware reform movement short-circuits these efforts. It signals that the Hindu ecosystem is not frozen in injustice but capable of course correction on its own terms.

Owning the caste discourse undercuts the moral authority of Islamo-Christian narratives and restores the space for Indic justice, not imported ideologies.

Court-mandated quotas, NGO reports, or secularist commissions have failed to convince Hindu communities because they’re seen as externally imposed solutions. But when corrective measures emerge from within — backed by data and dharmic intent — they are far more likely to be embraced.

The caste census, if led by Hindu-minded thinkers, can pave the way for:

• Data-based sub-categorisation.

• Redistribution of benefits within the Hindu fold.

• Targeted welfare without electoral blackmail.

The Right can either lead this recalibration or be reduced to reacting every time the Left sets the terms of debate.

At the same time, one of the most highly significant outcomes of the caste census is its ability to identify and map non-Hindu jatis, particularly those within Islam and Christianity. For decades, the discourse on caste has been largely confined to Hindu society, but the reality is that caste-based hierarchies exist in many communities outside of Hinduism, notably within Muslim and Christian populations, who follow similar social stratifications and caste structures.

In India, certain Muslim and Christian communities have long claimed benefits under the Scheduled Castes (SC) and Scheduled Tribes (ST) categories, which are intended for historically marginalized Hindu communities. The absence of a reliable mechanism to track and validate caste identity among non-Hindu populations has led to systemic discrepancies. The caste census, by collecting data on caste affiliations across all religious communities, will help clarify this issue once and for all. It will allow for the identification of Muslim and Christian jatis that mirror the caste hierarchies found in Hindu society, thus bringing much-needed transparency to the reservation system.

Take, for instance, the case of certain Christian communities, particularly those in regions like Kerala and Tamil Nadu, where some Dalit Christians have been granted SC and ST status. With the caste census, the state will now have the tools to discern between these distinctions and ensure that benefits are correctly allocated. This data will be crucial in rectifying abuses of the system by ensuring that the reserved category benefits reach those who truly need them.

Ultimately, the caste census not only addresses the internal disparities within Hindu society but also sheds light on the inequities in non-Hindu communities, ensuring that the reservation system is not exploited and that affirmative action benefits are truly reaching those most in need. This will be an important step towards ensuring fairness and equity across all communities, regardless of religion, while preserving the integrity of the reservation system. 

The Mirror is Not Your Enemy

The caste census is not a weapon, nor is it a dangerous tool designed to fragment Hindu society. It is, quite simply, a mirror — a reflection of our internal social realities that have been ignored for far too long. The Hindu Right, especially in the aftermath of a deeply polarised 2024 election, faces a crucial crossroads. The choice is stark: smash the mirror and continue to deny the complexities of caste, or pick it up, look at it honestly, and begin the much-needed process of reform from within.

One of the core insights of the caste census is that it allows the Hindu Right to reframe caste not as a foreign-imposed fracture or something inherently divisive, but as an internal issue. Caste is not a relic of a foreign colonial past; it is an issue within our society, one that demands correction through Hindu values of justice, dharma, and equity. The census gives the Hindu Right an opportunity to lead this reform, positioning caste as a family matter that requires self-correction, not something to be imposed by external forces or secularist ideologies.

For decades, caste has been a hotly contested issue in Indian politics, with the Left framing it as a weapon for their ideological agenda and the Right too often remaining silent or reluctant to engage with the subject. This has allowed the opposition to dominate the caste discourse, often without a nuanced understanding of the actual needs and realities on the ground. The Hindu Right must now step into the conversation, not merely as a reactionary force but as a reformist one. By embracing the caste census and its potential for positive social engineering, the Right can reclaim this narrative, focusing not on perpetuating divisions but on healing them.

The Hindu Right has long been criticised for failing to address the real, material inequities that persist in society. The caste census is a critical step in acknowledging these issues and taking the necessary steps to address them, not through tokenism, but through empirical data and thoughtful policy reform. By embracing the caste census, the Right has the opportunity to be the architects of the future, offering solutions that are not just politically palatable but ethically sound, rooted in Hindu principles of justice.

There is a legitimate fear among some that the caste census will undermine Hindu unity. However, the truth is that a Hindu unity which ignores caste disparities is illusory. True unity can only emerge when marginalised groups within the community feel heard, seen, and included. Hindu unity is not about glossing over inequalities but about addressing them in ways that resonate with justice and fairness. By engaging with caste issues head-on, the Hindu Right can create a real, lived unity that is based on justice, not just cultural or religious homogeneity.

The mirror that the caste census offers will reveal not only where we have failed but also where we have the opportunity to succeed. By embracing it, the Hindu Right can begin a new chapter in India's long struggle for social equity. This is not about conceding defeat to the Left’s narrative or about abandoning traditional values. It is about reclaiming the moral high ground on caste — by acknowledging its existence, understanding its dynamics, and leading reform from within.

Ultimately, the caste census represents a Hindu opportunity, not a threat. It provides a chance to reshape the conversation around caste — moving it from a political football used by opportunistic parties to a socio-cultural issue that Hindus can address with integrity and sincerity. By taking ownership of this process, the Hindu Right has the chance to lead the largest internal reform in the community's history. This is not just about political advantage; it is about the long-term social capital redistribution needed for a fairer, more just society.

In the end, the Hindu Right must realise that true power comes not from division, but from unity — not unity in erasing differences, but unity in recognising and addressing them.