UP: Caste assertion banned, but caste prejudice must still reign

Rarely has any government, let alone Uttar Pradesh, acted with such alacrity. When Justice Vinod Diwakar of the Allahabad High Court, on 16 September, ordered a ban on caste-based political rallies, it made headlines.

In a rare instance of judicial activism translating into immediate executive action, the UP government issued a 10-point order banning caste-based political rallies, just five days later on 21 September.

The move was in stark contrast to the state’s reluctance on a similar interim order passed by the high court in 2013. Back then, the government delayed filing an affidavit, and when it finally did respond, the then chief secretary and the director general of police argued that caste was an important marker of identity.

This time, Justice Diwakar dismissed such objections as outdated, especially in an era of digital IDs, Aadhaar and mobile phones. The argument that caste identity is required to identify people does not wash, he observed.

Using strong language, the court deprecated caste glorification, describing it as “anti-national” and violative of constitutional morality. Mentioning caste in FIRs, arrest memos, seizure memos and police notice boards “amounts to identity profiling, not objective investigation”, the court observed.

Such practices it added, “reinforce prejudice, corrupt public opinion, contaminate judicial thinking, violate fundamental rights, and undermine constitutional morality”.

In a small but symbolic move towards gender inclusivity, the court also mandated that police documents include the mother’s name along with father/ husband’s name; remove caste identifiers and slogans from private and public vehicles; ensure removal of caste-based signboards declaring villages, towns or colonies as caste territories and act against caste-glorifying content on social media.

Caste may however be recorded where a legal mandate requires it, such as investigations under the SC/ST (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, the order said.

The state government appeared to fall in line quickly after the order was passed. While directing the removal of caste references and prohibiting caste-based political rallies across the state, it parroted the high court’s statement that they ‘promote caste struggle and are against national unity’.

The timing and political calculation behind this highly unusually swift compliance have become the subject of intense speculation. Critics and observers are unanimous that the decision is politically motivated. After all, the BJP and its allies—like the Nishad Party, Apna Dal and Suheldev Bharatiya Samaj Party—have long engaged in caste-based mobilisation.

BJP leaders too have attended caste rallies with enthusiasm, and caste arithmetic continues to drive electoral strategy.Will the law then be used selectively against the opposition and the Dalit groups?

Opposition leaders seem to think so. Even if the police removes caste from FIRs, will people stop asking, “Aap kaun jaat ke ho?(What’s your caste?)” at social gatherings, job interviews or marriage discussions? Will matrimonial advertisements stop mentioning caste as the first filter, such as, ‘Kayastha bride wanted’, ‘Brahmin groom settled abroad’, ‘Yadav boy well placed’? Will Instagram reels stop glorifying ‘Thakur swagger’, ‘Jat power’ or ‘Kurmi unity’?

Even employees’ unions are divided on caste lines. IAS, IPS and PCS officers have been coming together to attend events of Kayasth Samaj, Brahmin Sabha and SC/ST forums. An IPS officer admits, “Nobody can deny that caste networks play a huge role in the system. This order gives us legal cover to move away from that culture, but dismantling it will not happen overnight.”

Academics are divided on the issue. “Removing caste from documents is a start, but does not touch the structural inequities that caste produces,” says Dr. Meera Choudhary, a sociologist at Banaras Hindu University. “Caste determines who gets jobs, who gets invited to weddings, and who finds a house to rent and where. Unless those behaviours change, the order will remain merely symbolic.”

“This is not mere sermonising,” feels Professor R.K. Tripathi of Lucknow University. “It is a bold attempt to reframe governance itself by removing caste from the paperwork that shapes our daily interactions with the state.”

Samajwadi Party chief Akhilesh Yadav argues that the order is superficial. “Centuries of discrimination cannot be undone by striking out a column. Removing caste from documents does not remove caste prejudice from society,” he said.

Yadav raised another pertinent question: “What steps is the government taking to address caste-based discrimination in jobs, in classrooms and in social spaces? The order only targets what is visible, not what is lived daily by millions.” The uneasiness in parties like the Samajwadi Party and Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP) is because the order directly undermines their primary mode of political mobilisation, argues Professor Tripathi.

BSP leaders too hint at discomfort. A party functionary says, “For Dalits, rallies and slogans are not merely about pride; they are a form of assertion after centuries of marginalisation. If these are banned, will our voices not be muffled under the garb of equality?” The real test, they admit, will in October when the BSP plans a large rally. Till then, they plan to wait and watch the developments.

Challenges in implementation

The implementation of the order will be messy, point out police officers. “We are already facing questions from villagers who tell us, Humko toh jaat se hi pehchana jata hai, ab kaise hoga?” says Nirmal Chaudhry, a police officer posted in Jaunpur. “We will face both political and social backlash and if we act against any caste, we will be accused of bias. The order both empowers and exposes us.”

Umesh Chaudhary, another police officer says, “While we can book a vehicle for a caste sticker, how do we deal with a meme on social media or a reel on Facebook?” Dalit scholars are also sceptical. “Unlike upper caste men, for us, caste slogans were not about dominance; they were always about assertion, defiance and resistance,” says Rajesh Kumar, a scholar of Dalit studies.

There is also a risk of backlash. Dominant communities may view the order as an affront to their pride. Marginalised groups may interpret it as erasure of hard-earned identity and visibility. The government must walk a tightrope. As one academic puts it: “The same slogan can mean pride for a dominant caste and humiliation for a Dalit. The state will have to distinguish between the two.”

Nobody has faulted the court though. Justice Diwakar’s words that unless the deeply entrenched caste system is eradicated, India can neither develop nor remain secular have touched a chord. “This goal demands sustained, multi-level efforts from all levels of government—through progressive policies, robust anti-discrimination laws and transformative social programmes,” he observed while taking note of the absence of a comprehensive law aimed at dismantling the caste system and its pervasive social influence.

Whether this moment marks a turning point or simply another chapter in India’s complex caste politics remains to be seen. Professor Tripathi sums up the sentiment of many when he says, “The state can erase caste from documents, but only society can erase it from the mind.”