Casteism Unravelled-III: Identity and Violence

This is the title of Amartya Sen’s book  that was not well understood nor received by readers, including scholars. But for me, it was a sigh of relief. Somebody had identified the roots of why we behave in certain ways.

Much before I read Amartya Sen, I had been bowled over by Leela Fernandes’s book Transforming Feminist Practice. This book was also mostly ignored in scholarly circles. I was, however, awed by the sheer brilliance of this thin volume.

The crux is this: if identity, that is who we are, is so crucial for our survival—in terms of food and other resources or for sense of place in this world, then we will fight whenever that identity is threatened.

Identity is never a constant. We keep trying to move upwards to greater and better access to resources and a more powerful sense of self. And we do our best to be not downgraded.

We develop our identity in a variety of ways—sometimes by our nationality, sometimes by skin colour, sometimes by our religion, sometimes by our location, sometimes by our gender and sometimes by our caste.

Remember how men are teased—chudi pehen lo (wear bangles); sissy, namard (not man). The purpose of this is to threaten and provoke their identity. Some men consider these words as an insult.

Similarly, sometimes religious clashes break out because somebody killed a pig and threw it in front of a mosque or a cow in front of a temple. All these are identity provocations.

Caste is also a powerful identity marker. For some, it supersedes all other markers, including religion. Caste is a powerful marker not only for upper castes but also depressed castes (“depressed” caste is a better term to use than “oppressed” or “lower” caste. “Oppressed” signifies victimhood and “lower” validates hierarchy). Dalits prefer being called Dalits rather than Harijans (as Gandhi had named them) and on Babasaheb Ambedkar’s birthday, some city centres come to a standstill.

We preserve our identity by participating in identity rituals. For devout Catholics, it is sometimes being present and visible for Sunday church and witnessing. For male Iyer Brahmins, it is wearing vibhuthi horizontally and for Iyengar Brahmins (male and female) wearing tikka vertically. For a Dalit colony, the marker is often a statue of Babasaheb Ambedkar. The biggest caste practice is the notion of purity and pollution—the way in which we categorize the world as that which is pure and that which is impure and hence polluting. Menstruating women are polluting, men and women working as manual scavengers are polluting. Men who help in cremation grounds are polluting. And we let them know that—by maintaining distance, not touching, taking a bath afterwards. And more intensely, by not marrying outside caste and not taking up certain professions.

When our identity is threatened, we become defensive and may retaliate with words or action. Action may be withdrawal of support or physically attacking the other group. Where identity is super crucial to community sense of self, brutal violence occurs.

So what is the solution? Distance yourself from your group identity—a process that Leela Fernandes calls as disidentification. Create alternate identities —like identifying yourself as a compassionate person or strategic thinker or dreamer or a musician.

The greater the distance from strong group identities, the lesser defensive you become and lesser the chance that you would retaliate violently or otherwise.

Disidentification is a spiritual practice. It requires continuous crosschecking of self as to what triggers us and why and working to rectify it.

How strong is your identity? How have you managed to disidentify? Would love to hear from you.

Related articles

• Casteism Unravelled-I: When Culture is Imitated


• Casteism Unravelled-II: When We Liberals Are Casteist