End caste discrimination, not caste data

On October 3, the Supreme Court of India passed a landmark judgement declaring provisions in state prison rules that reinforced caste-based work allocations and segregation of prisoners unconstitutional. In a welcome move, the SC ruled that such provisions and practices violate the fundamental rights to equality and life (Articles 14 and 21) and against discrimination, untouchability, and forced labour (Articles 15, 17, and 23). It directed the revision of state prison manuals, some as old as 1954, and the recent Model Prison Manual 2016 and the Model Prison Act 2023 framed by the Union Government. The court also directed the District Legal Services Authority and the Board of Visitors to monitor prisons for caste-based practices.

However, in the same vein, the Court also directed the deletion of the “caste column” and any references to caste in prison records. This directive will erase caste demographics from the criminal justice system—a crucial tool for understanding and addressing such disparities in prisons, as the prison population is the sole public dataset containing caste information.

The Court was adjudicating a petition by Sukanya Shantha, a journalist who uncovered evidence of caste-based segregation and work allocation in Indian prisons. Her report found that prison manuals assigned oppressed caste prisoners menial roles of sweeping and cleaning sewers. In contrast, the oppressor caste prisoners had more meaningful roles in kitchens, medical rooms, and offices. Her petition challenged the constitutionality of these offending provisions.

According to the National Crime Records Bureau’s Prison Statistics of India 2022, Scheduled Castes account for 22.4% of the prison population, against a 16.6% share in the general population per the 2011 census. Similarly, Scheduled Tribes, representing just 8.6% of the general population, constitute 11% of those incarcerated. These figures expose a harsh truth: caste-based disparities extend beyond society, seeping into the criminal justice system, where they remain entrenched through institutional inequities.

Since 1995, the NCRB has reported annual prison statistics collected from the prison headquarters of all states and Union Territories. Deletion of caste columns from prison registers will mean that there will be no public record of the caste demography of prisoners. It is important to note that the prison population is the only dataset that records caste demographics. Such information is not systematically collected or maintained during the stages of arrest, remand, prison admission, bail, conviction, acquittal, etc.

Throughout the years, the data on prisoners’ caste has consistently shown an over-representation of marginalised communities, except in 2016 and 2017, when NCRB did not report the caste and religion demography for reasons best known to them. This data serves as a stark reminder of an unsettling reality—the lowest group in the social hierarchy is more likely to face criminal charges and imprisonment.

The directive to erase all caste references in prison records will make caste invisible to policymakers but not to oppressive social forces, which don’t rely on data to perpetuate. The erasure of this critical information risks obscuring the systemic inequalities in the justice system, perpetuating the very caste-based injustices that the judgement seeks to rectify.

The 148-page judgement fails to explain how such record deletion will contribute to dismantling caste-based practices within the prison system. By suggesting that caste be removed from records, the judgement oversimplifies the issue, implying that it can be detached from an individual’s social reality. It neglects that caste is an ascriptive social identity deeply embedded in daily life, regardless of official documentation. For instance, caste-based surnames will continue to signify social hierarchies, reinforcing marginalisation across various contexts, including within prisons.

This directive threatens the record of caste demographics in prisons, as caste data is not merely an administrative detail but a crucial first step toward effective policy-making. Such statistics are vital for grasping the extent of caste-based criminalisation and the disproportionate impact of incarceration on marginalised communities. Without a clear picture of the problem, any attempts to promote equity and justice for marginalised groups will remain devoid of informed action.

Deleting castes from data records has a deep historical context, present in the very fabric of the oppressor caste’s political agenda. B R Ambedkar’s essay in From Millions to Fractions records this age-old struggle for caste enumeration of the untouchables. It records the origin of the “high caste Hindu” argument that listing of “untouchables” by the government will perpetuate untouchability. After almost a century-long struggle for social justice, the ruling party continues to ride on the same rhetoric that such enumeration will lead to social division and entrench hierarchies.

The SC direction to delete caste columns in prison data fares no better. Though the Chief Justice of India mentions ‘Ambedkar’ 42 times in the judgement to set the context of caste discrimination, it still, intentionally or not, slips in the political rhetoric that erasing records equals erasing casteism. It overlooks that the true goal of social justice is to guarantee equal status to all communities without needing to hide caste identities. 

Making a case for accurate enumeration, Ambedkar writes, “If the Untouchables make no noise, the Hindu feels no shame for their condition and is quite indifferent as to their numbers. Whether there are thousands or millions of them, he does not care to bother.”

(Shrutika Pandey is a lawyer and researcher who works with iProbono
India, running programmes to provide legal support to prisoners. Siddharth Lamba is a lawyer and researcher who works on criminal justice issues)