In India, where caste silently dictates access to education, jobs, and dignity, the promise of a caste census in the 2027 national count has sparked a fragile hope. Trina Vithayathil, a sociologist and author of Counting Caste, sees a chance to chart the tangled web of caste, gender, and religion. Yet she warns that without ironclad transparency and accountability, the census could slip into India’s long tradition of “bureaucratic deflection”—a tactic to bury caste data and shield systemic inequities. Will 2027 finally confront caste head-on, or will it be another dodge in a decades-long game?
A Breakthrough in Bihar
Bihar’s 2023 caste survey offers a tantalizing glimpse of what data can do. Published in October and expanded a month later, it exposed deep disparities, spurring swift changes to reservation policies for marginalized groups. For advocates, it was a victory: evidence driving equity.
But Vithayathil, in her book (Counting Caste, Cambridge University Press, April 30, 2025), argues that Bihar’s success masks a national failure. She describes how India’s central bureaucracy has long protected caste privilege by blocking caste-wise enumeration in the decennial census, often by decentralizing the task to states. Bihar’s survey emerged only because New Delhi refused to act, a move Vithayathil calls a deliberate strategy to keep caste “invisible.” This decentralization, while yielding local wins, lets the central government sidestep accountability for systemic reform.
Political Promises, Political Betrayals
India’s political giants—Congress and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)—have both played this game. Congress, despite governing for decades, sidestepped caste counts in the censuses of 1951, 1961, 1971, 1991, and 2011. In 2011, it promised a caste census but relegated the task to a shoddy below-poverty-line survey, whose data vanished. The BJP, in power since 2014, has followed suit, refusing to release that data or commit to a caste count.
In 2024, Congress campaigned for a national caste census to challenge the BJP’s bid for a third term. Skeptics, including Vithayathil, question its motives, given its history of inaction. “Both parties dangle the caste census to win votes,” said Dilip Mandal, a journalist from an oppressed-caste background who shattered barriers to become a managing editor. “But in power, they guard the status quo.”
A History of Resistance
The roots of this resistance lie in India’s colonial past. In 1931, Mahatma Gandhi, opposing untouchability as a “Hindu reformer,” resisted counting “untouchables” (Dalits) separately, fearing it would entrench caste divisions. He favored their inclusion as Hindus, aligning with Congress’s vision of a unified Hindu majority during independence talks. B.R. Ambedkar, the Dalit leader and constitutional architect, rejected this, demanding self-representation for “untouchables” and exposing their exclusion—barred from temples, dehumanized daily—as a “line of untouchability.” Political scientist Vivek Kumar Singh sums it up: “Untouchables could neither enter the temple nor leave it.”
Gandhi’s view prevailed, shaping Congress’s approach and tying census politics to power struggles.
The Lost Battle of 2011
In 2011, hope surged again. M. Vijayanunni, former head of India’s census bureau, insisted the agency could handle a caste count, citing its expertise and colonial precedents. “It wasn’t about capacity,” he said, “but willingness.” A coalition of activists, including Vijayanunni, secured a tentative commitment, only for bureaucrats to deflect it to a flawed survey. The data disappeared, a casualty of what Vithayathil calls “castelessness”—the erasure of caste from state records.
Data as Democracy’s Foundation
A caste census is not just a policy tool but a democratic imperative. India’s constitution promises equality, yet caste remains a hidden fault line, perpetuating exclusion without evidence to challenge it. Data, as Bihar showed, can shift policies and power. But decentralization and political gamesmanship undermine this potential. A national caste census, conducted with rigor and transparency, could force India to confront its inequalities, fostering accountability and informed reform. Without it, the state risks complicity in perpetuating injustice, cloaked in bureaucratic inertia.
Mandal’s journey—from oppressed-caste origins to editorial leadership—shows what’s at stake. “Data is power,” he said. “Without it, we’re left with slogans.”
Toward 2027
Census 2027 could be a turning point, illuminating disparities and guiding policies. But history urges caution. Bureaucratic deflection and political opportunism have long thwarted progress. Vithayathil’s call for transparency is urgent: only a committed, accountable process can deliver.
India’s democracy hinges on facing hard truths. A caste census, done right, could be a step toward that reckoning. But it demands courage—more than promises, more than deflections. As 2027 looms, the question isn’t whether India can count its castes, but whether it dares to.
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