Book Excerpt: How India's Cosmopolitan Elites Fail to Transcend Caste
A book excerpt from Sumeet Samos' new book 'Affairs of Caste: A Young Diary.'
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(The following is an edited excerpt from Sumeet Samos' new book Affairs of Caste: a Young Diary (Panther's Paw Publication, 2022). Even though an autobiography, the book simultaneously takes up a nuanced sociological critique of contemporary Indian society.)
In recent years, a growing number of sociologists have been studying the phenomenon of cosmopolitanism. One set of them defines cosmopolitanism as an orientation of openness to foreign others and cultures by transcending boundaries and regards it as a desirable tendency to overcome parochial barriers with a growing transnational flow of culture, people and capital.
The other set of sociologists critically probes cosmopolitanism by taking Bourdieu’s concept of cultural and social capital and how it produces stratification and distinction of status. I largely agree with the second set of sociologists.
The Caste of Cosmopolitanism
In an Indian context, it [cosmopolitanism] needs to be examined with an added component of caste, and the complex relation both of these groups have with traditional Hindu values.
Furthermore, in my opinion, although there is a distinction between the two groups in India, there is also a considerable overlap. The visible orthodox middle-class Hindus speak of the often quoted Vasudevam Kutumbakam (The world is one family), simultaneously treating the marginalised castes next to them as inferior, while the cosmopolitan caste elites, even after acquiring western tastes and dispositions, would socialise within their own caste-class networks. The one big difference between both of them is that the latter has far greater access to institutions to legitimise its cultural and social capital.
Kira Huju, a research scholar on Indian diplomats, writes,
By referring to the overwhelming domination of upper caste elite diplomats graduated from St Stephen's, she argues,
Both of these groups have been interacting with modernity, technology and globalisation while retaining their respective castes for a few decades now. Earlier, they were looking for brides from their own castes within immediate circles; now, they do it through caste-specific matrimonial ads on the internet. Earlier, the upper caste women would perform Karva Chauth puja sitting alone at home, but now they do it collectively at kitty parties while watching some Netflix series.
The cosmopolitan caste elites speak fluent English, wear all the latest brands of clothing, are members of gymkhanas and golf clubs, put their children in the best private and international English-medium schools and hold high positions in Indian civil service. They are the most mobile of social groups and have formed tight circles in the posh localities of all urban spaces. They have been the cultural elite for several decades now – Khatris, Bengali Bhadraloks, Saraswat Brahmins, Tamil Brahmins, Odia Brahmins, Sindis, Nairs, Banias of Gujarat, a section of Ashraf Muslims and Syrian Christians.
In Bombay, these groups control the money-minting movie industry; in Delhi, they own farmhouses, work as top-rank officers and own big businesses; in Chennai, they boast of possessing a certain kind of cultural sophistication after having appropriated the art forms of marginalised castes, and Nrithya Pillai, a scholar and dancer from the hereditary performing Isaivellalar community in Tamil Nadu has been one of the leading voices in exposing such appropriation in recent times.
The self-proclaimed intellectuals among these caste elites are the Bhadraloks of the Kolkata origin. They boast about having been part of the Bengali Renaissance tradition and lay claim to superior innate intelligence by quoting Tagore, Satyajit Ray, Mahashweta Devi and a range of western philosophers, writers, and artists every now and then. They are an integral part of the top English and Fine Arts departments in the country and tend to look down upon others as if they were lesser mortals, all the while saying how caste is not an issue in Bengal.
Their hatred towards North India is cloaked under the garb of culture, but deep down, it is the Dalit-Bahujans of the North whom they can’t stand. Even though they might not be as wealthy as the Khatris, Sindhis, Aroras and Banias in economic terms but their value in the knowledge economy is huge, so much so that you name any South Asia department in the West it is run by Bengali Bhadraloks. In fact, one of the professors at the University of Oxford, while referring to Dipesh Chakraborty’s ‘Provinalising Europe’, jokingly said that even South Asian departments must be provincialised because of the disproportionate number of Bengali Brahmins.
Cultural World of Cosmopolitan Elite
This group of cosmopolitan caste elites is a mixture of families and occupations – their children come from army, bureaucrat and business backgrounds; they range from lost glory-seeking Rajput royalty to political big-shots, academicians and artists. In all the big cities, they have specific social geography, lingo, shared tastes, and hangout spots, and their children usually go to educational institutions of big repute.
A section among them, unfortunately, who end up in public-funded universities will often tell you that they did not know about caste until they encountered Dalit students or politics around caste, just like how Ayushman Khurana encounters caste for the first time in a village, in the movie, Article 15. Due to their elitist upbringing and exposure, they find it difficult to relate with Dalit-Bahujan leaders and personalities from the grassroots.
They engage in alien activities such as Model United Nations in their respective colleges and occupy the centre of debating societies, literary societies, drama societies, etc., in the top colleges, where they get to study. Latest TV series, popular culture gossip, Coke Studio Pakistan, fashion and literature from the West form an integral part of their young lives, while caste morality remains intact in their families. The majority of the Dalit–Bahujan students do not understand the references made by the people belonging to these social groups upon encountering them in university spaces or on social media. Their consumerist ways are embedded in the competition, which defines their habits, their way of life and posturing.
Owing to psychological reasons, they find it extremely difficult to stay behind the screen; they are brought up to become entitled and never sit back and question why they are where they are. During childhood, their parents groom them to feel like they are at the centre of the universe, which is fine, but they define it by looking down and distancing themselves from close interactions with the ‘uncultured masses’. It takes a long time to even realise that there exists a world outside of their lives and that their terms of the debate are accessible only to a tiny minority like them.
This particular section lives with a false sense of transcendence, thinking they share a universality which is unique to them, and they attribute it to the misguided rhetoric that caste, religion and regional advantages are outmoded ideas having no relevance to them. They go on living a hedonistic life with all the accumulated wealth and luxury. As soon as they finish their courses, they can either choose to take a break, go abroad for further studies, find jobs or take up business in whichever field their parents and kin networks help them with.
The other type gets exposed to prevalent political discourses through some student groups on their campus, an NGO, ‘alternative media’ articles, social media posts, by some professors or just out of personal interests. By the end of their undergraduate degrees, their social media bio would be filled with internships and a number of work experiences, which would later become part of their Curriculum Vitae. By the beginning of college, they know what they want by the end of their college, and they prepare accordingly. Many of them go on to become slam poets, influencers, peace activists, bloggers, and mental health practitioners and work in development sectors in a world where marginalised students struggle to find bare minimum opportunities corresponding to their qualifications, lacking social and cultural capital. For the latter groups, there was no one who taught them how to navigate this time period, whom to contact, what to write and how to present in order to avail opportunities. It is only a very few who succeed in finding a space.
'Such a Small World'
Some among this upper-caste section do contribute through their works and even have good intentions, but they are inevitably part of the opportunity circuit which doesn’t take marginalised candidates, citing inefficiency. Hence, the cycle continues. Many big names in literary circles, English language media and central university academia – from left-liberal orientation – come under the senior members of this section. When they meet one another at literary festivals, academic conferences and even in universities abroad, it appears to be like some close-knit family reunion. They refer to it amusingly ‘Such a small world this is’ when they realise they have mutual friends or studied in the same schools.
I remember a Brahmin political science faculty member from JNU referring to Ashis Nandy affectionately as ‘Da’ (elder brother) the entire time during an academic conference – a formal event. The same people would get furious when a Dalit student would use ‘Babasaheb’ to refer to Dr Ambedkar in the classroom. I later came to know that the professor’s father and Ashis Nandy had been good friends for a long time. The family connections of these people span across generations, and the close-knit circles they form can easily be traced and put into a neat flowchart.
Below this group of cultural elites are the new middle-class, mainly traditional upper and intermediary castes, mostly middle-income government jobs, small to medium enterprises and part of the new diversified economy. A significant section of youth among them are overtly religious, visit shrines, follow rigid moral codes of conduct and bear surmounting pressure to adopt conventional streams such as engineering, medicine and clear competitive exams. This is not to say they don’t share consumption patterns like their elite counterparts, but there is a certain amount of calibrated restraint when it comes to manifesting life choices and spending. The middle class I am talking about is not merely an economic position but a set of cultural codes, caste values, inherited property, land and traditional group influence. The newer middle class also includes the rich among agrarian castes who gained mobility after the 1960s.
The cosmopolitan caste elite I was referring to occupies a certain pan-Indian and even global character with ease, while the Brahmins in the middle class below them form a significant part of the regional state institutions and media. The few intermediary castes who have gradually emerged as the new middle-class impact the regional political life significantly, simply due to their numbers. Gounders from Tirupur who prospered in the garment industries in the recent decades are one example of such groups who still try to negotiate and contest being challenged by modern liberal values.
(The above is an edited excerpt. Paragraph breaks, blurbs and subheadings have been added for readers’ convenience.)
(Sumit Samos hails from South Odisha and he recently completed MSc in Modern South Asian Studies from the University of Oxford. He is a young researcher and anti-caste activist and his research interests are Dalit Christians, cosmopolitan elites, student politics and society and culture in Odisha.)
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