The murder of George Floyd in the US prompted people across India to stand up for racial equality and align themselves in solidarity with Black Americans. At the same time, they were also disparaged for their ‘selective empathy’—for caring about a cause in far-flung America even as they turned a blind eye to the sufferers of similar oppressive structures within their own societies. What followed was a series of hashtags like #DalitLivesMatter, and other forms of activism that tried to shift the narrative closer to home but completely missed the mark. It became, in some ways, counterproductive to the cause of racial justice in the first place.
The hypocrisy of the Indian elite should have been pointed out. According to the International Dalit Solidarity Network, a global network of organisations that focuses on Dalit rights and issues, 92 cases of discrimination have been reported against Dalits and other marginalised communities in India since the imposition of the lockdown. Of these, 15 have been cases of violence, while 13 were murders. This is just one compilation of reported cases; most cases, it is safe to say, remain unreported and go unnoticed. Despite the ubiquity and seriousness of such crimes, the Indian elite delivered scant condemnation on the incidents, let alone decisive action. However, the manner in which these derivative hashtags and social media movements tried to call out our hypocrisy and collective apathy towards the suffering of the lower castes and marginalized communities failed to prompt deeper introspection. Consequently, it also failed to garner a wider social base at such an opportune moment. Why was this so?
In a piece for The Caravan, Suraj Yengde unpacks the deep-rooted hatred that underpins the casteist systems in India. He highlights that “racist and religious hatred is deeply enmeshed with casteist beliefs”. The upper castes in India who stand up for racial equality in the United States will not raise an eyebrow to atrocities against Dalits. The problem is not that Dalit lives do not matter to the upper castes; in fact, the very functioning of the discriminatory social apparatus the upper castes envision is predicated on a systematic oppression of the lower castes. This social structure, which has gained more religious sanctification and legitimacy with the rise of Hindutva politics, justifies and condones discrimination of lower castes for the occupational division and functioning of society. Hindutva politics does not see caste division as discriminatory but perhaps rather as a necessary, inherent form of society that needs to be preserved. This not only makes the problems of lower castes invisible to the elite, but also perpetuates them. As a result, any attempt at a reckoning of the upper castes that only targets anti-colorism can never achieve the goal of making Dalit lives truly matter.
Furthermore, while caste discrimination is a common topic of debate among the Indian elite, it resurfaced in the wave of outcry by Indians against racial oppression in the US. The event certainly presented an opportune moment to talk about the racial injustice and anti-colorism embedded in our institutions. However, the narrative was presented as an absurd equivalency: that you cannot care about two movements against social injustice at the same time, and that even if you do, as an Indian you ought to care about caste discrimination more than Black rights. The double-standards ought to be pointed out; if you care about Black discrimination then you should also care about anti-colorism in South Asia. Trying to introduce a parity of sorts and calling out those who were standing up for Blacks in the US only highlighted the superficial nature of our commitment towards the cause as a whole, which should not be surprising. Given the harassment of African students and tourists in India, the solidarity between Black and Brown people is now but a hollow myth. In this regard, a hashtag like DalitLivesMatter becomes a derivative representation, almost as if it were trying to divert attention from the Black Lives Matter movement. Importing the tactics of another social movement and then trying to portray it as a parity will be counterproductive to both movements.
Rather, in light of increased debate on anti-colorism and casteism, there should have been an effort to recognize India’s homegrown struggle against caste discrimination. While Black Lives Matter protests were spreading across the US and sections of Indian society were standing up against racial and caste discrimination, the Indian state was rounding up Dalit intellectuals. But it received little to no opposition. This strange isolation of Dalit intellectuals is characteristic of Hindutva politics, where any anti-upper caste struggle is framed as an attack by the “Left” on the state. The incarceration of intellectuals in relation to the Bhima Koregaon is a case in point. Thinkers such as Varavara Rao, Sudha Bharadwaj and Anand Teltumbte have been charged as “terrorists”, and a threat to India’s national security for their courageous fight against caste discrimination. Yet the Indian elite shies away from showing any solidarity with them. The same people later use the hashtag ‘Dalit Lives Matter’ and demand social justice. As long as we continue to lock up our own thinkers without any political redressal, no derivative social movement can achieve justice.
This moment of solidarity is unique in time, one that will not strike frequently. We should use it to expand debates from just anti-colorism to anti-casteism and counter the roots that sustain these practices. The authoritarian instincts of this government at the helm, and the swing towards Hindutva politics, will make this daunting. To succeed, we will need to go beyond a superficial call for equality.
