Opinion Peasants to universities, nothing escaped André Beteille’s lens
When I asked him why he chose to teach at the Delhi School of Economics when every recognised university in the world would love to have him, he replied that he enjoyed working here. He did not come out with grand phrases about being nationalistic but stated a simple truth: He felt fulfilment here.
Andre Beteille Modern Indian sociology begins with Professor André Beteille, but his death this week does not signal its decline. This is because he opened that door wide enough for future generations to walk through and leave one-dimensional, micro-level studies behind to study India, first, and then the world.
When Professor Beteille wrote his landmark work, Caste, Class and Power, it was not just another village study but one that brought in Indian politics and universal theory together and in equal measure. He integrated into his study the powerful emerging currents of Dravidian politics, the dynamics of caste, economic and political power — all of this taking place vividly in a hitherto unquestioned Brahmin-dominated village in Tamil Nadu.
His work is probably the most outstanding one till now about the transition from cumulative to dispersed inequalities in village India, where the axes of ritual, political and economic dominance no longer converge. Indeed, one might even say, without exaggeration, that Caste, Class and Power exemplified this aspect so well that the shift in contemporary rural dynamics can be encapsulated in one phrase — “from cumulative to dispersed inequality”. This allowed him to provide a profound alternative to Louis Dumont’s study of caste hierarchy, where ritual dominance was the critical factor.
Professor Beteille received numerous awards, both nationally and internationally. He was honoured with a Padma Bhushan and was also elected a Fellow of the British Academy. True to his style, he was a celebrity both in India and the West. He lectured across the globe and was feted everywhere as a star celebrity. Yet, his heart and intellect both belonged to India. His duels with Marxists were always tinged with admiration for them, perhaps on account of his college years in Kolkata, but more because he was intrinsically a complete intellectual.
When I asked him a question, which people must have badgered him with forever, as to why he chose to teach at the Delhi School of Economics when every recognised university in the world would love to have him, he replied, rather dismissively, that he enjoyed working and teaching here — no further explanation. He did not come out with grand phrases about being nationalistic, and so on, but stated a simple truth: He felt fulfilment here. I immediately understood what he meant, and in many ways, he expressed a sentiment that many leading intellectuals in India hold dear.
My first meeting with him, in the late 1960s, was a brief and informal encounter. He had just become a Nehru Fellow and was out of active teaching. His reputation, even then, was sky high and as a pretentious young person, I instinctively kept looking out for chinks in his armour and was disappointed that I didn’t find any. Much later, in the 1990s, when I came back to the Delhi School of Economics, this time as a faculty member, I realised how generous he was with those who critiqued him and did not let any of the negative comments come in the way of personal relationships.
On one occasion, I was rather rude in my response to his critical comments on my presentation. I noticed his disappointment at my unbecoming behaviour, but he carried on as if nothing had happened. It helped me hide my embarrassment for the moment, but I truly broke out of it when I apologised to him, that too weeks later. He pretended as if he had forgotten that incident altogether, which was quite in character with the overall dignity of his bearing.
Professor Beteille broke the mould again when he began to contribute regularly to The Times of India. His articles were widely read and influenced a large number of readers because he successfully merged somewhat esoteric sociological subjects with popular concerns and thereby raised the standards of public debate. How can one not mention the fact that Professor Beteille wrote and spoke with charming lucidity. Whether one heard him or read him, his sentences were crisp, meaningful and enviably elegant. I know several people would come for his public lectures just to hear him speak —he was that enthralling. If anybody truly aspired to be a good social scientist, Andre Beteille was the ultimate model.
Over a decade ago, Oxford University Press asked me to compile a list of what I took to be Professor Beteille’s essential writings. In doing that, I realised fully how he had brought Max Weber to Indian sociology and demonstrated that sociological concepts that work best should apply not just to India but should be important markers of universal knowledge. He was a prolific author whose range encompassed almost the entire sociological scape from tribes, peasants, and castes to universities, democracy and citizenship. There was nothing that escaped Professor Beteille’s close attention.
I do not know how many of those who knew him and even admired him are aware of his deep interest in music, poetry and the fine arts. He could, till almost the very end, recite long verses in English and Bengali with admirable ease. His memory and retention power were amazing. I recall telling him once that I had just laboured over Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe and how quaint I found the text and prose to be. Surprisingly, he recalled in minute detail almost every page of that book, which he must have read decades ago. I went back with a better appreciation of Ivanhoe. Something similar happened after I had read Don Quixote, and it confirmed my belief that Professor Beteille could be admired and emulated but was almost impossible to surpass.
I never called him “André da” as most Bengalis did. I addressed him as André when I got to know him better, and I told him that it was because he was as much my friend as he was my model. André smiled at my explanation and said, “A joking relationship, is it?” In sociology and social anthropology, this term signifies a playful but respectful interaction where red lines are frequently crossed but only because of lasting affection.
The writer is a sociologist

