<p>Special consideration in the allocation of public resources to disadvantaged social groups has a long pedigree in Karnataka. The Miller Committee (1918) set aside substantial public resources for non-Brahmin groups, demarcated on grounds of caste, in the erstwhile Mysore state. </p>.<p>The orbit of such consideration marked a different trajectory in other parts of Karnataka that were eventually fused with the unified state on the basis of linguistic identity in 1956. While there was much socialist fervour in the parts of coastal Karnataka, belonging to the then Madras and Bombay provinces, the non-Brahmin movement found a significant base of support among backward castes and communities in some parts of the Kannada-speaking region. In the Hyderabad-Karnataka sub-region, social polarisation was primarily riveted around the axis of the nation-region until B Shyam Sunder threw open a new space that resulted in the founding of the Bheem Sena.</p>.<p>Caste overtly marked the identities of Kannadigas bonded together through a shared linguistic belonging after independence. This impress, more or less, partitioned cultural resources – deities, festivities, occupations, habitats, literary production and folklore, nay, social relations as a whole. The reconstruction of Vachana literature and Dasa sahitya in the early 20th century, instead of being projected as a common inheritance, was deployed to reinforce caste and community boundaries. </p>.<p>The same could be said about the rich religious experiences of this region as a whole. The region did not nurture an encompassing ideology that could be the anchor to make sense of its complex traditions and challenges. The contrast stands out if we compare Karnataka with Kerala, where socialism came to be fused with a distinct linguistic and cultural identity, or Tamil Nadu, where non-Brahmin, Dravidian lore came to recast the idea of Tamilakam. </p>.<p>The political process that precipitated in Karnataka after independence, and particularly following unification was deeply riled in caste divide. </p>.<p>Under the leadership of the late Devaraj Urs as Chief Minister of the state (1972-1980), an attempt was made to redraw the political contours of Karnataka.</p>.<p>Devaraj Urs attempted to break the hold of the dominant castes over social and political life by shoring up disadvantaged castes and bringing in agrarian reforms to consolidate this shift. While such policy initiatives definitely broadened the zone of public space, they, at the same time, reinforced caste strata among deprived castes. </p>.<p>It did not nurture the bond among citizens qua citizens, considering themselves as equal and free but living their life in common. Urs’ reforms threw up a body of competing political elites rooted in castes and an aspiring politician knew well that he had no future unless he tended to his caste. </p>.<p>In this scenario, the political elites of the dominant castes continued to command the lion’s share of public resources, controlling the reforms. </p>.<p>Siddaramaiah’s Ahinda initiative attempted to band together the disadvantaged castes and minorities but persisted in making caste and community political units. </p>.<p>The Hindutva project in Karnataka has striven to forge a common bond across the myriad castes and communities of the state, but has often been challenged through the caste card. </p>.<p><strong>Reservation policy </strong></p>.<p>It is widely recognised that the Havanur Commission, under the Urs regime, was a turning point in the categorisation of Backward Classes. While this module was opposed by the excluded dominant castes, it withstood overall judicial scrutiny. It proposed three-fold criteria to denote backwardness: Educational, economic and social, identifying caste and community as the units. </p>.<p>While there has been some tinkering of this module by the subsequent Commissions to recraft the reservation kitty, and at times political considerations have been generously brought in, these three-fold criteria have endured. If it is so, how do we explain the new clamour to recast the reservation policy in Karnataka?</p>.<p><strong>Contentions at work</strong></p>.<p>Castes and communities have mounted diverse considerations with regard to the prevailing policy at work: Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes in the state have sought the scaling up of reservations in tune with their demographic weight. </p>.<p>The Karnataka Assembly has already unanimously decided to recommend this measure to the Parliament, although it would mean increasing the proportion of reservation from the existing 50% to 56%. </p>.<p>Some other castes and communities, such as the Vokkaligas too, have demanded enhancing the extent of reservation on grounds of demographic weight. There are other castes and sub-groups of communities that have sought inclusion in categories other than those they are currently placed in. Clearly, they foresee a better deal for their members if their demands are met. </p>.<p>The Panchamasalis, a large sub-group among Lingayats want to be shifted from Category III (b) which currently enjoys 5% reservation to Category II (a) which has 15% reservation. </p>.<p>The Idigas want to be included in the Scheduled Tribes category, shifting from II (a) where they are squeezed in with many other castes. </p>.<p>There are fanatics who want to score off Category II (b) as it caters to Muslims. Privileged castes, particularly Brahmins, are lobbying hard to extend the economically weaker sections (EWS) policy to state services. </p>.<p>Some of these demands have wider ramifications: If the demand of the Panchamasalis is accepted, the faultlines within the Veerashaiva-Lingayat formation would be thrown out in the open. </p>.<p>To contain the negative fallout of the demands, particularly of the dominant communities in the state, the Karnataka government has decided to expand the existing Category II with II(C) and II(d), shifting the Vokkaligas and Lingayats, as a whole, from their current III (a) and III (b) categories. </p>.<p>Noteworthy is the fact that at present, Category II caters to relatively backward castes and communities and the government’s decision places Vokkaligas and Lingayats on par with them. Although politically savvy, the legal validity of these measures is questionable, given the court ruling in the Indra Sawhney Case (1992).</p>.<p><strong>Religious trappings </strong></p>.<p>The Mutt institution, which has deep roots in the region as a socio-religious centre and has been deployed by Lingayats for political use, has sprung up in many castes and communities. These institutions function as religious entrepreneurs, binding them together and mounting their demands. Today, the hold they have over their respective communities has reduced political leadership to kowtow to their wishes, in spite of their mounting demands. </p>.<p>What Karnataka demands is a reassertion of citizen equality and autonomy of state power to uphold common interests against sectarian contenders of fealty and claims of representation. Reservation and special considerations are tools for citizen equality and not for sectarian reinforcement. While reservation can help promote overall economic progress, it cannot be equated with it. </p>.<p><em>(Valerian Rodrigues is a former professor at Mangalore University and Jawaharlal Nehru University.)</em></p>
<p>Special consideration in the allocation of public resources to disadvantaged social groups has a long pedigree in Karnataka. The Miller Committee (1918) set aside substantial public resources for non-Brahmin groups, demarcated on grounds of caste, in the erstwhile Mysore state. </p>.<p>The orbit of such consideration marked a different trajectory in other parts of Karnataka that were eventually fused with the unified state on the basis of linguistic identity in 1956. While there was much socialist fervour in the parts of coastal Karnataka, belonging to the then Madras and Bombay provinces, the non-Brahmin movement found a significant base of support among backward castes and communities in some parts of the Kannada-speaking region. In the Hyderabad-Karnataka sub-region, social polarisation was primarily riveted around the axis of the nation-region until B Shyam Sunder threw open a new space that resulted in the founding of the Bheem Sena.</p>.<p>Caste overtly marked the identities of Kannadigas bonded together through a shared linguistic belonging after independence. This impress, more or less, partitioned cultural resources – deities, festivities, occupations, habitats, literary production and folklore, nay, social relations as a whole. The reconstruction of Vachana literature and Dasa sahitya in the early 20th century, instead of being projected as a common inheritance, was deployed to reinforce caste and community boundaries. </p>.<p>The same could be said about the rich religious experiences of this region as a whole. The region did not nurture an encompassing ideology that could be the anchor to make sense of its complex traditions and challenges. The contrast stands out if we compare Karnataka with Kerala, where socialism came to be fused with a distinct linguistic and cultural identity, or Tamil Nadu, where non-Brahmin, Dravidian lore came to recast the idea of Tamilakam. </p>.<p>The political process that precipitated in Karnataka after independence, and particularly following unification was deeply riled in caste divide. </p>.<p>Under the leadership of the late Devaraj Urs as Chief Minister of the state (1972-1980), an attempt was made to redraw the political contours of Karnataka.</p>.<p>Devaraj Urs attempted to break the hold of the dominant castes over social and political life by shoring up disadvantaged castes and bringing in agrarian reforms to consolidate this shift. While such policy initiatives definitely broadened the zone of public space, they, at the same time, reinforced caste strata among deprived castes. </p>.<p>It did not nurture the bond among citizens qua citizens, considering themselves as equal and free but living their life in common. Urs’ reforms threw up a body of competing political elites rooted in castes and an aspiring politician knew well that he had no future unless he tended to his caste. </p>.<p>In this scenario, the political elites of the dominant castes continued to command the lion’s share of public resources, controlling the reforms. </p>.<p>Siddaramaiah’s Ahinda initiative attempted to band together the disadvantaged castes and minorities but persisted in making caste and community political units. </p>.<p>The Hindutva project in Karnataka has striven to forge a common bond across the myriad castes and communities of the state, but has often been challenged through the caste card. </p>.<p><strong>Reservation policy </strong></p>.<p>It is widely recognised that the Havanur Commission, under the Urs regime, was a turning point in the categorisation of Backward Classes. While this module was opposed by the excluded dominant castes, it withstood overall judicial scrutiny. It proposed three-fold criteria to denote backwardness: Educational, economic and social, identifying caste and community as the units. </p>.<p>While there has been some tinkering of this module by the subsequent Commissions to recraft the reservation kitty, and at times political considerations have been generously brought in, these three-fold criteria have endured. If it is so, how do we explain the new clamour to recast the reservation policy in Karnataka?</p>.<p><strong>Contentions at work</strong></p>.<p>Castes and communities have mounted diverse considerations with regard to the prevailing policy at work: Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes in the state have sought the scaling up of reservations in tune with their demographic weight. </p>.<p>The Karnataka Assembly has already unanimously decided to recommend this measure to the Parliament, although it would mean increasing the proportion of reservation from the existing 50% to 56%. </p>.<p>Some other castes and communities, such as the Vokkaligas too, have demanded enhancing the extent of reservation on grounds of demographic weight. There are other castes and sub-groups of communities that have sought inclusion in categories other than those they are currently placed in. Clearly, they foresee a better deal for their members if their demands are met. </p>.<p>The Panchamasalis, a large sub-group among Lingayats want to be shifted from Category III (b) which currently enjoys 5% reservation to Category II (a) which has 15% reservation. </p>.<p>The Idigas want to be included in the Scheduled Tribes category, shifting from II (a) where they are squeezed in with many other castes. </p>.<p>There are fanatics who want to score off Category II (b) as it caters to Muslims. Privileged castes, particularly Brahmins, are lobbying hard to extend the economically weaker sections (EWS) policy to state services. </p>.<p>Some of these demands have wider ramifications: If the demand of the Panchamasalis is accepted, the faultlines within the Veerashaiva-Lingayat formation would be thrown out in the open. </p>.<p>To contain the negative fallout of the demands, particularly of the dominant communities in the state, the Karnataka government has decided to expand the existing Category II with II(C) and II(d), shifting the Vokkaligas and Lingayats, as a whole, from their current III (a) and III (b) categories. </p>.<p>Noteworthy is the fact that at present, Category II caters to relatively backward castes and communities and the government’s decision places Vokkaligas and Lingayats on par with them. Although politically savvy, the legal validity of these measures is questionable, given the court ruling in the Indra Sawhney Case (1992).</p>.<p><strong>Religious trappings </strong></p>.<p>The Mutt institution, which has deep roots in the region as a socio-religious centre and has been deployed by Lingayats for political use, has sprung up in many castes and communities. These institutions function as religious entrepreneurs, binding them together and mounting their demands. Today, the hold they have over their respective communities has reduced political leadership to kowtow to their wishes, in spite of their mounting demands. </p>.<p>What Karnataka demands is a reassertion of citizen equality and autonomy of state power to uphold common interests against sectarian contenders of fealty and claims of representation. Reservation and special considerations are tools for citizen equality and not for sectarian reinforcement. While reservation can help promote overall economic progress, it cannot be equated with it. </p>.<p><em>(Valerian Rodrigues is a former professor at Mangalore University and Jawaharlal Nehru University.)</em></p>