Opinion Caste surveys should be used for inclusive development, not political posturing

However, none of their efforts have till now yielded changes in the reservation policy – one of the mechanisms through which these surveys could elicit social changes. Bihar under the erstwhile Mahagathbandhan government, led by Nitish Kumar conducted a caste survey and published its report creating ripples across the political spectrum before the Lok Sabha elections. Kumar though tried to implement a 65 per cent reservation proportional to the numbers of backward communities as enumerated in the survey – beyond the SC-given cap of 50 per cent – the Supreme Court turned it down.

While the Andhra Pradesh government is still indecisive about its earlier plan to conduct a caste survey, the Telangana government is yet to implement any changes in the reservation of Backward classes. Against this backdrop, the release of caste survey data in Karnataka should motivate the central leadership to roll out national strategies for robust caste surveys — using systematic, mixed-method (qualitative and quantitative), evidence-based, policy-driven approaches. That would be a true tribute to Babasaheb Ambedkar.

Though Karnataka undertook the Socio-Economic and Educational Survey (SEES) in 2015 to document caste, educational, and occupational realities in scientific detail, it took a decade to publish the data. The refusal to release this survey was not administrative caution, but a politically strategic choice — one that protects privilege, stalls justice, and undercuts democratic accountability. The Karnataka caste survey reports sought to challenge this erasure by going beyond outdated lists and generating a fresh empirical foundation for social policy.

Criticism of the methodology focused on its expansive list of categories, even allowing for self-identification beyond recognised lists. But the real issue lies somewhere else
Karnataka has a rich legacy of using caste data for progressive policy. The Miller Committee Report of 1919, based on caste-disaggregated data in the Madras Presidency, exposed Brahmin over-representation in public services and advocated reservations for backward castes. This laid an early administrative foundation for affirmative action.

Rooted in the non-Brahmin movement, Karnataka continues to build upon this legacy. Over time, the state institutionalised caste-based development corporations for SCs, STs, OBCs, general castes, and minorities. Rising caste-based demands led to the creation of bodies like the Thanda Development Corporation (Banjaras), Adi Jambava Nigama (Madiga sub-castes), Okkaliga and Veerashaiva-Lingayat Development Corporations, Brahmana Abhiruddi Nigama, and others.

Today, more than 35 per cent of Karnataka’s welfare allocations are theoretically routed through these bodies. But how does the state ensure these funds reach the truly marginalised? Without credible, granular data, internal disparities — like those between dominant OBCs and smaller artisan or nomadic groups — remain invisible.

Beyond numbers: A tool for justice

Counting caste is not about reducing people to their identities. It’s about recognising how identity shapes access to land, education, housing, jobs, and dignity. The policy must reflect real, lived inequities — not elite assumptions.

The caste survey must become a launchpad for interdisciplinary research, social audits, and policy redesign. It should enable the governments conducting such surveys, especially Karnataka to ask: Are Dalit Christians and Pasmanda Muslims receiving proportional benefits under minority welfare? Are Devadasis, sanitation workers, manual scavengers, NTs, DNTs, and forest tribes like the Asalaru, Malekudia, Yerava, Siddhis, Koragas, or Iruligas visible in state budgets? Why do thousands of reserved posts in government jobs and universities remain vacant year after year? These aren’t rhetorical questions — they demand data that’s not just collected, but released, studied, and acted upon.

The real danger lies in the political appropriation: Data reduced to electoral arithmetic, sliced and spun to serve short-term agendas. That would be a grave mistake. Instead, Karnataka must entrust this data to its publicly funded institutions — Dr B.R. Ambedkar Study Centres, Babu Jagjivan Ram Chairs, Devraj Urs Research Centres, tribal and Dalit research bodies, and civil society groups embedded in marginalised communities. These institutions must lead in analysing discrimination and co-creating solutions. They should collaborate with caste development corporations and sub-caste associations to ensure accountability. This approach can help shape inclusive policy frameworks.

Karnataka stands at a crucial juncture. It has already done the hard work: Designing and conducting a massive, complex survey. What remains is political courage — to release the data, facilitate independent inquiry, and act on what it reveals. This is more than a state issue; it is a national precedent. If Karnataka shows that caste data can be ethically collected, analysed, and used for equitable development, it could challenge India’s entrenched caste denialism.

In a democracy, counting is not just arithmetic — it is ethics, memory, and a commitment to a future where no one is invisible.

The writer teaches at TISS, Guwahati