Marginalities and Mobilities among India's Muslims: Elusive Citizenship 9781032077895, 9781032248288, 9781003280309

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Series
Title
Copyright
Contents
List of Tables
List of Figures
Author Biographies
Preface
Introduction: The Muslim Question in Contemporary India
Section I Development Trajectories
1 Post-Sachar Indian Muslims: Facets of Socio-Economic Decline
2 Islam, Development and Globalization: Transformation of a Traditionalist Muslim Group in Kerala
3 Degrees of Disadvantage: Education as Social Equalizer in India’s Labour Market?
Section II Mobile Landscapes
4 Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers: Muslims in Contemporary India
5 In the Middle of the Ocean and Land: Muslims of Mangalore
6 The Old and the New Muslim Middle Class: Classificatory Practices and Social Mobility
7 Delayed and Depleted: In Search of the Missing Muslim Middle Class in India
8 Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi: Importance of Self-Employment in Jamia Nagar
Section III Quest for Citizenship: Marginality, Mobility, and Violence
9 Swan Song: Muslim Musicians in Contemporary Banaras: Stories of Survival and Denial
10 Indian Muslims and the Ghettoised Economy: The Role of Negative Emotions on Occupational Choices in the Urban Labour Markets
11 From the Bigoted Julaha to the Terrorist: Stigma and Identity in Azamgarh
12 Marginality among Muslims in Kerala: The Case of Marakkayar Community
Index

Citation preview

MARGINALITIES AND MOBILITIES AMONG INDIA’S MUSLIMS

This book studies how marginality impacts the everyday lives of Indian Muslims. It challenges the prevailing myths and stereotypes through which Indian Muslims have come to be seen in the popular imagination. The volume engages with questions of citizenship, collective violence, and issues of civil and criminal jurisprudence. It explores the linkages between development, marginality, and citizenship – the three critical issues for modern democracies today. Going beyond the singular narrative of a community on a continuous slide, the chapters in this volume present diversities of the Muslim experience of exclusion and participation. It discusses themes such as violence and marginality among minorities; Indian Muslims and the ghettoized economy; employment aspirations of low-income Muslim men; intergenerational social mobility of Muslims; the nature of the middle class; and the question of Islam, development, and globalization to showcase the living conditions of Muslims in India. Part of the Religion and Citizenship series, this timely volume will be an essential read for scholars and researchers of political studies, sociology, political sociology, minority studies, public policy, religion, citizenship studies, diversity and inclusion studies, and social anthropology. Tanweer Fazal is Professor of Sociology at the University of Hyderabad, India. Divya Vaid teaches Sociology at Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. Surinder S. Jodhka is Professor of Sociology at the Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India.

Religion and Citizenship Series Editor: Surinder S. Jodhka, Professor of Sociology, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India Social science research and popular discourse on ‘religion and public life’ have gradu­ ally moved away from the popular binaries of communal – secular, tradition – mod­ ern, or community – individual. It is now widely recognised that religion and cultural traditions do not simply disappear from public life with economic development. In countries like India, this shift has also been reinforced by the emerging social and polit­ ical trends where issues relating to citizenship rights along with those of inclusive and just development are raised through identity movements by the historically deprived categories of the Dalits, Adivasis, and religious minorities such as the Muslims. This ‘positive’ view of religion parallels changing attitudes in other parts of the world as well. Enhanced flows of labour accompanying the processes unleashed by the onset of globalization have produced hitherto unknown levels of diversities of cultures and communities almost everywhere in the contemporary world. The neo-migrant is not only visible and culturally different from the “native” but also arrives with aspiration for citizenship rights and equal status. Growing religious diversity is an obvious and important aspect of this process, engaging with which has become a political and academic imperative. In countries, in the West as well as in the global south, where the local states and other development actors find it hard to accommodate such diversities within its pre-existing “secular” welfare systems, they have invariably turned to the faithbased organisations, along with other civil society actors, to use their potential role in enhancing development and service delivery. While these new processes and trends have renewed interest in the study of religion, rigorous social science research on ‘religion and citizenship’ is still at a nascent stage. This series attempts to fill the gap by bringing together scholarly writing on this important and rapidly expanding area of research in the social sciences.

Books in this series Interrogating Communalism Violence, Citizenship and Minorities in South India Salah Punathil Marginalities and Mobilities among India’s Muslims Elusive Citizenship Edited by Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid and Surinder S. Jodhka For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/ Religion-and-Citizenship/book-series/RC

MARGINALITIES AND MOBILITIES AMONG INDIA’S MUSLIMS Elusive Citizenship

Edited by Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid and Surinder S. Jodhka

Designed cover image: Getty Images/ John Seaton Callahan First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 selection and editorial matter, Tanweer Fazal; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Tanweer Fazal to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Fazal, Tanweer, editor. | Vaid, Divya, 1979- editor. | Jodhka, Surinder S., editor. Title: Marginalities and mobilities among India’s Muslims: elusive citizenship / edited by Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid and Surinder S. Jodhka. Description: First edition. | New York : Routledge, 2023. | Series: Religion and citizenship | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2023007618 (print) | LCCN 2023007619 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032077895 (hbk) | ISBN 9781032248288 (pbk) | ISBN 9781003280309 (ebk) Subjects: LCSH: Muslims—India. | Muslims—India—Social conditions— 21st century. | India—Ethnic relations. Classification: LCC DS432.M84 M375 2023 (print) | LCC DS432.M84 (ebook) | DDC 305.6/970954—dc23/eng/20230310 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023007618 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023007619 ISBN: 978-1-032-07789-5 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-24828-8 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-28030-9 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003280309 Typeset in Bembo by Apex CoVantage, LLC

CONTENTS

List of Tables List of Figures Author Biographies Preface Introduction: The Muslim Question in Contemporary India Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid and Surinder S. Jodhka SECTION I

Development Trajectories 1 Post-Sachar Indian Muslims: Facets of Socio-Economic Decline Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

vii

ix

x

xiv

1

17

19

2 Islam, Development and Globalization: Transformation of

a Traditionalist Muslim Group in Kerala M. S. Visakh and R. Santhosh

42

3 Degrees of Disadvantage: Education as Social Equalizer in

India’s Labour Market? Mohd. Sanjeer Alam

58

vi Contents

SECTION II

Mobile Landscapes 4 Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers: Muslims in Contemporary India Divya Vaid 5 In the Middle of the Ocean and Land: Muslims of Mangalore Shaunna Rodrigues

77 79 110

6 The Old and the New Muslim Middle Class: Classificatory Practices and Social Mobility Tanweer Fazal

125

7 Delayed and Depleted: In Search of the Missing Muslim Middle Class in India Amir Ali

139

8 Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi: Importance of Self-Employment in Jamia Nagar Aashti Salman

156

SECTION III

Quest for Citizenship: Marginality, Mobility, and Violence 9 Swan Song: Muslim Musicians in Contemporary Banaras: Stories of Survival and Denial Zarin Ahmad 10 Indian Muslims and the Ghettoised Economy: The Role of Negative Emotions on Occupational Choices in the Urban Labour Markets Sumeet Mhaskar

181 183

199

11 From the Bigoted Julaha to the Terrorist: Stigma and Identity in Azamgarh Manisha Sethi

220

12 Marginality among Muslims in Kerala: The Case of Marakkayar Community Salah Punathil

239

Index

257

TABLES

1.1 Basic Statistics 1.2 Average Annual Per Capita Income (in Rs) 1.3 Income Gap of Muslims with Reference to Different Social

Groups (in %) 1.4 Education (Percentage of Graduates) 1.5 Jobs (Percentage of Salaried) 1.6 Main Source of Income for Different Socio-Religious Groups 1.7 Inequality (2011–12) 3.1 Distribution of Male Workforce by SRGs and Employment Types 3.2 Index of Employment Dissimilarity between

Socio-Religious Groups 3.3 Distribution of Workers by Occupation and SRGs (2011–12):

All India 3.4 Educational Profile of Labour Force by SRGs (2011–12) 3.5 Results of Logistic Regression 4.1 Caste and Religion in the NES 2014 Data (Row Percent) 4.2 Variable Combining Information on Caste and Religion from

the NES 2014 Data 4.3 Class of Respondent 11-Class Schema in the NES 2014 Data 4.4 Class of Respondent 5-Class Schema in the NES 2014 Data 4.5 Profile – Origin and Destination Distributions of Muslim

Women and Men, NES 2014 Data 4.6 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim OBC Men: Inflow

Rates (Column Percentages); NES 2014 Data 4.7 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim OBC Women:

Inflow Rates (Column Percentages); NES 2014 Data

21

23

24

27

29

30

31

63

65

65

66

70

82

83

84

84

88

91

91

viii Tables

4.8 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim Non-OBC Men:

Inflow Rates (Column Percentages); NES 2014 Data 4.9 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim Non-OBC

Women: Inflow Rates (Column Percentages); NES 2014 Data 4.10 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim OBC Men:

Outflow Rates (Row Percentages); NES 2014 Data 4.11 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim OBC Women:

Outflow Rates (Row Percentages); NES 2014 Data 4.12 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim Non-OBC Men:

Outflow Rates (Row Percentages); NES 2014 Data 4.13 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim Non-OBC

Women: Outflow Rates (Row Percentages); NES 2014 Data 4.14 Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates (Total %) in NES

2014 Data 4.15 Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates for Men (Total %)

in NES 2014 Data 4.16 Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates for Women (Total

%) in NES 2014 Data 4.17 Rural – Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates (Total %)

in NES 2014 Data 4.18 Urban – Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates (Total %)

in NES 2014 Data 4.19 Loglinear Analysis (Class Origin, Class Destination,

Community), NES 2014 Data 4.20 Education Mobility Rates – Respondents (Women and Men)

and Fathers (Total %) in NES 2014 Data 4.21 Education Mobility Rates – Respondents (Women and Men)

and Mothers (Total %) in NES 2014 Data 4.22 Logistic Regression Models for Access to Professional

Occupations over Birth-Cohorts, NES 2014 Data 8.1 Aspirations of the Muslim Men in 2016–2017; Occupations in

2016–17 and in 2018 10.1 Social Profile of Mumbai’s Ex-Millworkers 10.2 Distribution of Ex-Millworkers by Gender and Wage Labour and

Self-Employment (Row Percentages) 10.3 Distribution of Women Ex-Millworkers by Caste and

Occupations (Row Percentages) 10.4 Distribution of Ex-Millworkers by Caste, Religion, and

Occupations: I (Row Percentage) 10.5 Distribution of Ex-Millworkers by Caste, Religion, and

Occupations: II (Row Percentages) 10.6 Hurdles Experienced by Ex-Millworkers in Finding New

Employment (Row Percentages)

92

92

94

94

95

95

95

96

96

98

98

100

104

104

106

162

204

205

206

206

208

209

FIGURES

1.1 Average Annual Per Capita Mean Income across Socio-Religious

Groups in India (in Rs) 1.2 Relative Lorenz Curves for Per Capita Income of Social Groups

in India in 2011–12 1.3 Percentage of Youth Having Graduate Degree and above for

Social Groups (2012–2018) 1.4 Percentage of Youth Currently in Educational Institutions in

2017–18 (in %, within 15 to 24 Years of Age) 1.5 Percentage of Excluded Youth – Who are Neither in Education

Nor in Jobs in 2017–18 (in %, within 15 to 24 Years of Age) 3.1 Index of Occupational Dissimilarity between

Socio-Religious Groups 4.1 Adjusted Residuals for Class Origins and Community 4.2 Adjusted Residuals for Class Destinations and Community 4.3 Origin and Destination Differences of Muslim Women and Men 4.4 Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates: Full Sample (Total %) 4.5 Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates for Women and

Men (Total %) 4.6 Unidiff Parameter Estimates Origin, Destination, and

Community, NES 2014 4.7 Level of Education for Each Community by Birth

Cohort – Men, NES 2014 4.8 Level of Education for Each Community by Birth

Cohort – Women, NES 2014 10.1 Distribution of Ex-Millworkers by Caste, Religion, and Post

Textile Mill Closure Occupation, Row Percentages 10.2 Distribution of Ex-Millworkers by Caste, Religion, and Post

Textile Mill Closure Occupation, Column Percentages

22

31

32

33

34

64

86

86

90

97

97

100

102

102

209

209

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHIES

Editors Tanweer Fazal is Professor of sociology at the University of Hyderabad, Hyderabad, Telengana, India. Earlier he taught at the Centre for the Study of Social Systems, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, and at Nelson Mandela Centre for Peace and Conflict Resolution, Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi. His interests lie in the history and theory of nationalism, minority studies, and the study of state practices and collective violence. He is the author of The Minority Conundrum: Living in Majoritarian Times (ed.) (2020); Nation-state’ and Minority Rights in India: Comparative Perspectives on Muslim and Sikh Identities (2015); and Minority Nationalisms in South Asia (ed.) (2012). Fazal’s research papers have appeared in some of the key journals of social sciences such as Contributions to Indian Sociology, Irish Studies in International Affairs, South Asian History and Culture, History and Sociology of South Asia, Sociological Bulletin, and Economic and Political Review. Besides, he has edited special issues of the journals Sociological Bulletin (co-ed 2021), South Asian History and Culture (2012), Seminar (2016), and Indian Anthropologist (2016). His forthcoming book is tenta­ tively titled Muslims, Law and Violence: Reflections on the Practices of the State’ (2023). Divya Vaid teaches Sociology at Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. She has an MSc and a DPhil from Oxford, UK. Her research interests include the study of social mobility and inequalities, social stratification and educational attain­ ment, and the application of quantitative methods. Her work has appeared in the Annual Review of Sociology, Contemporary South Asia, Asian Survey, and the Economic and Political Weekly among others. She is the author of Uneven Odds: Social Mobility in Contemporary India, OUP, 2018. Surinder S. Jodhka is Professor of Sociology at the Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. He researches on social inequalities, caste, and its articulation in

Author Biographies

xi

contemporary India; rural/agrarian change; and the political sociology of community identities. His recent publications include India’s Villages in the 21st Century: Revisits and Revisions (co-edited with Edward Simpson, 2019); Mapping the Elite: Power, Privi­ lege and Inequality (co-edited with Jules Naudet, 2019); A Handbook of Rural India (ed. 2018); Contested Hierarchies: Caste and Power in 21st Century (co-edited with James Manor, 2018), Inequality in Capitalist Societies (co-authored with Boike Rehbien and Jesse Souza, 2018), The Indian Middle-Class (co-authored with Aseem Prakash, 2016), and Caste in Contemporary India (2015/2018). He is among the first recipients of the ICSSR-Amartya Sen Award for Distinguished Social Scientists, for the year 2012.

Contributors Kalaiyarasan A. is Assistant Professor at the Madras Institute of Development Studies, Chennai, India, and a non-resident fellow at the Watson Institute for Inter­ national and Public Affairs, Brown University, Providence, Rhode Island. He was previously with the National Institute of Labour Economics Research and Devel­ opment, a research wing of NITI Aayog (Planning Commission), Government of India. His academic interest lies in structural inequalities of caste and race and regional political economy. He regularly contributes to The Hindu and The Indian Express. His recent publications are The Dravidian Model: Interpreting Political Economy of Tamil Nadu (2021, as co-author) and Rethinking Social Justice (2020, as co-editor). Zarin Ahmad is the author of Delhi’s Meatscapes: Muslim Butchers in a Trans­ forming Mega-City (Oxford University Press 2018) and an affiliated research fellow at the Centre de Sciences Humaines, New Delhi. Zarin works at the intersection of urban anthropology, history and politics. Her research interests so far have touched touched on matters both sacred and profane like Islamic property laws, music and meat. Her ongoing project focuses on food and the city. Mohd. Sanjeer Alam is Associate Professor at the Centre for the Study of Develop­ ing Societies (CSDS), Delhi, India. He holds a PhD from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. His research interest encompasses a variety of themes, including sociospatial inequalities in education and labour market outcomes and social exclusion and affirmative action. His research outputs are widely published in both national and inter­ national academic journals. He has authored, co-authored, and co-edited many books which include: Religion, Community, and Education: The Case of Rural Bihar  (2012); Fixing Electoral Boundaries in India: Processes, Outcomes and Implications for Political Repre­ sentation (2015); Democratic Accommodations: Minorities in Contemporary India (2019); and Companion to Indian Democracy: Resilience, Fragility, Ambivalence (2022). Amir Ali teaches at the Centre for Political Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. Previously he taught at the Department of Political Science, Jamia Millia Islamia University, New Delhi, and was Agatha Harrison Memorial Visiting Fellow at St Antony’s College, Oxford, UK. He has written two books:

xii Author Biographies

South Asian Islam and British Multiculturalism (2016) and Brexit and Liberal Democracy: Populism, Sovereignty and the Nation State (2022). Christophe Jaffrelot is Senior Research Fellow at CERI-Sciences Po/CNRS, Professor of Indian Politics and Sociology at King’s College (London), and Presi­ dent of the French Political Science Association. He is also Non-Resident Scholar at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, Permanent Consultant at the Centre for Policy Planning Staff of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs since 2008 and Columnist in The Indian Express since 2013. Among his recent publications are Business and Politics in India (2019, as a co-editor with A. Kohli and K. Murali) and The Majoritarian State. How Hindu Nationalism is Changing India (2019, as a co-editor with A. Chatterji and T.B. Hansen), India’s First Dictatorship. The Emergency, 1975–77 (2020, as co-author with Pratinav Anil) and Modi’s India. Hindu Nationalism and the Rise of Ethnic Democracy (2021, as sole author). Sumeet Mhaskar is Professor of Sociology at the Jindal School of Government and Public Policy, O. P. Jindal Global University, NCR of Delhi, India. He also holds a Research Partner position at the Max Planck Institute for the Study of Religious and Ethnic Diversity in Germany. He received his DPhil [PhD] in Soci­ ology from the University of Oxford, UK and has held Post-Doctoral and Resident Fellow positions at Stanford, Göttingen, and Kassel. His research interests include deindustrialization, labouring in the formal and informal economy, rural–urban migration, discrimination and exclusion at workplaces, educational and occupa­ tional mobility, urban transformation, social and political movements, and Indian politics. While his academic writings have been published in peer-reviewed jour­ nals, edited books, policy reports, magazines, and working papers, he occasionally writes opinion pieces for The Wire, ThePrint, Hindustan Times, The Indian Express, and The Outlook. Salah Punathil is Sociologist and Assistant Professor at the Centre for Regional Studies, University of Hyderabad, India. Salah has  completed his Post-Doctoral Fellowship at the Max Planck Institute for the Study of Religious and Ethnic Diversity, Gottingen, Germany. He taught Sociology at Tezpur University, Assam (September  2011 to June  2014) and Delhi School of Economics, University of Delhi (July 2009 to May 2010), Delhi, India. His research interests include ethnic violence, migration and borderlands, citizenship, Muslims in South Asia, and the intersection of archives and ethnography. His book Interrogating Communalism: Vio­ lence, Citizenship and Minorities in South India is published by Routledge in 2019. He has published articles in journals such as Citizenship Studies, History and Anthropol­ ogy, South Asia Research, and Contributions to Indian Sociology. Punathil is the recipi­ ent of M.N. Srinivas Award for Young Indian Sociologist, 2015, and Chancellor’s Award for Best Faculty at the University of Hyderabad 2022. His current research focuses on the migration from the present-day Bangladesh region to North East India and the crisis of citizenship and ethnic violence in contemporary times.

Author Biographies

xiii

Shaunna Rodrigues is Doctoral Student in the Department of Middle Eastern, South Asian and African Studies at Columbia University, New York. Located at the intersec­ tion of intellectual history, political theory, and empire, her work examines how adher­ ents of Islam chose to live in and construct a plural constitutional democracy in India, given the impact of liberal imperialism on South Asia. Her current focus is on praxis and pedagogy in the political lives of Abul Kalam Azad and Bhim Rao Ambedkar. Aashti Salman is presently Assistant Professor at GITAM University, Bangalore, India. She was recently awarded her PhD from Jawaharlal Nehru University. Her thesis explores how Muslim middle-class youth negotiate their employment-based aspirations and claims for upward mobility in urban north India. Her research interests include education, social mobility, aspirations, and class in India. R. Santhosh currently works as Associate Professor at the Department of Human­ ities and Social Science, IIT Madras, India. He has a deep interest in the entangle­ ment of religion with the ‘secular’ in contemporary India. He works primarily on Muslim communities in India with a special focus on intra-community contesta­ tions, forms of Islamic activism, religion and development, women’s questions, and emerging Muslim politics. His recent research has been on the influence of globalization on the Muslim community in Kerala, with a special focus on the role of the Internet and electronic media. He also has a keen research interest in the emerging forms of new spirituality, identity questions, and political mobilization among Hindus. His articles have been published in reputed journals such as Modern Asian Studies, Ethnicities, Asian Survey, Economic and Political Weekly, European Journal of Cultural and Political Sociology, and Historical Sociology, among others. Manisha Sethi teaches at Jamia Milia Islamia, New Delhi. She has also taught at NALSAR University of Law, Hyderabad, India. She is the author of Escaping the World: Women Renouncers among Jains  (2012) and Kafkaland: Prejudice, Law and Counterterrorism in India (2015). Sethi is the editor of Communities and Courts: Reli­ gion and Law in Modern India published recently. M. S. Visakh is Postdoctoral Research Associate at the School of Global Studies, University of Sussex, Falmer, East Sussex, England. He is currently working with the Muslim fishing communities of South Kerala as part of a research project funded by Economic and Social Research Council (ESRC) UK, which aims to make South Indian artisanal fishers’ livelihoods more secure and sustainable by improving safety at sea. He completed his PhD from the Indian Institute of Technology Madras (2014–2020) on the topic ‘Islamic Traditionalism in a Globalizing World: A Study of Sunni Muslim Identity Formation in Contemporary Kerala.’ He was also Visit­ ing Fulbright-Nehru Doctoral Fellow at the Department of Near Eastern Studies, University of California, Berkeley, from August 2016 to May 2017. His research interests include sociology of religion, globalization, Islam, religion and develop­ ment, and Muslim politics. He has published research articles in journals such as Modern Asian Studies and Economic and Political Weekly and also in edited volumes.

PREFACE

Muslims make for a substantial population of India. With nearly 15% of a country of more than 1.3 billion people, their absolute numbers work out to be very large, largest in any nation of the world today, with the exception of Indonesia. Like other religious groups of India or the Muslim populations in other countries, the Indian Muslims are also very diverse, socially, culturally, and even religiously. The Mukkuvar fisherfolks of Kerala are as apart from the Shias of Kashmir as the Brazil­ ian middle-class would be from the Bhadralok Bengalis of Kolkata. However, religious identities have come to matter in the contemporary times beyond simply being a matter of faith; or these identities provide a sense of commu­ nity to the believers tied to a common place and mode of worship. The practices of enumeration introduced by the colonial rulers in the subcontinent during the late 19th century soon produced a new narrative of religious difference, which eventu­ ally culminated into the two-nation theory. The Partition further strengthened and institutionalized religious difference as a possible source of national identity in the region. However, the leaders of the Indian nationalist movement chose secularism as a mode of building the new political community, which enabled a large number of native Muslims to stay-put in their ancestral homes. However, their experience of staying back has been a mixed one. They have continued to encounter prejudice, consequences of which go far beyond the discomfort of a divided neighbourhood. Their position in the national economy has experienced a steady marginalization over the decades, while a section of the Indian political opinion presented them as a pampered minority. It was in this context that the publication of the Sachar Committee Report (SCR) (2006) became an important moment in the history of independent India. The Report significantly shifted the malicious narrative of Muslim appeasement and raised questions about state policy and ‘development deficits’ among sections of the Indian population identifiable as ‘socio-religious categories’. At another level, it

Preface

xv

opened up new spaces for social science engagements with India’s religious margins from perspectives that go beyond the hitherto popular frames of identity politics. Publication of the SCR also coincided with some interesting shifts in the global narratives on religion and religious communities. The ‘old theories’ and presump­ tions of a steady decline of religion and eventual secularization of the public sphere began to be abandoned everywhere. Faith communities and faith-based organiza­ tions came to be recognized as legitimate actors of the civil society. They could also raise funds and work towards meeting the globally pursued goals of human development, such as the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs). The SCR through its innovative methodology and use of new categories pro­ duced a baseline of the development deficit among the Indian Muslims. This volume attempts to revisit some of the similar ‘variables’ and also attempts to go beyond. In other words, the chapters presented in the book do not restrict their observation and analyses to the defined templates of social development, namely health, income, education, or employment. They also try situating the Muslims communities in the broader context of development, law, and everyday life of the ‘nation-state’. They also deliberate on issues of inter and intra-group inequality along caste, gender, and regional locations, reflecting on questions of religion, development, and political empowerment. This in a way is a more comprehensive approach to probe the problem and, in that sense, marks a significant departure from the social science literature of the past. The contributors, quite consciously, desisted from studying communities in terms of the peculiarity of their attributes, practices, and conduct. Communities were underlined as segmented and dynamic entities that responded differentially to changing relations with the state, market, and civil society. Thus, both marginality and mobility impact everyday lives of India’s religious minorities. Thematically, the volume’s lens is far wider than the officially assigned mandate of the SCR. The chapters in the volume engage with questions of citizenship, collective violence and issues of civil and criminal jurisprudence interwoven with concerns over the skewed nature of social development. The singular focus on Muslims in this volume is prompted by two distinct, though inter-related realities of our times. One, among all religious minorities, the development indicators for Muslims come out to be the worst, and, coupled with the size of their popula­ tion, the problem appears almost insurmountable. Second, the exponential rise of Hindutva triumphalism in the last decade or so and the concomitant ‘othering’ of Muslims have perforce brought the community(ies) at the core of the national narrative. The volume is therefore an acknowledgment of the fact that the Muslim question, though integral to the social make-up and national imagination, deserves separate attention. The Muslim, as a sociological category, has had a late arrival in the social sci­ ences. The orientalist influence in the early years ensured that Islam and Muslims were almost overlapping entities that impelled questions of textual and everyday practices of religiosity to predominate over the material and tangible questions related to empowerment, equality, security, and dignity. This volume asserts the

xvi Preface

need to separate Islam and Muslim as two discrete analytical categories. This is not to discount the significance of religion and spirituality in the lives of the Muslims, but simply to underscore that it plays no greater role than what it does in the lives of a Christian, Sikh, Hindu, or for that matter a Buddhist. Therefore neither is Muslim fertility rate determined by Islamic injunctions nor are their political choices and behaviour. This volume studies Muslims primarily as a development category, not a monolithic one. Yet, it retains certain features of ‘Muslimness’, less internally constituted and more externally imposed. So while what is a Muslim remains difficult to answer, who is a Muslim is usually identifiable through signifiers that are nationally and locally now attributed to being a Muslim. Nevertheless, it is a knotty problem to find a satisfactory answer. This book is dedicated to the memory of Justice Rajindar Sachar (1923–2018), former chief justice of Delhi High Court, a human rights crusader, and the chair­ person of the PM’s High Level Committee to study the status of Muslims (pop­ ularly, Sachar Committee). Sachar sahib passed away in 2018 leaving behind a sterling legacy of a public life committed to realizing a just and humane society. We shall forever remain indebted to him. – Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid, and Surinder S. Jodhka

INTRODUCTION The Muslim Question in Contemporary India Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid and Surinder S. Jodhka

As per its formal design, India is a liberal and constitutional democracy. The Indian Constitution promises civic equality to every individual, irrespective of his or her identity: gender, caste, class, ethnicity, or religion. It goes a step further. Instead of being identity-blind, it recognises certain ascription-based group identities as being sources of disadvantage for its members and makes provisions for affirmative action that would help a ‘developing nation’ move towards becoming a society that values a level-playing field, a substantive equality of opportunity for all. These provisions were introduced to help overcome the historically inherited disadvantages of the identified groups. Of all the identities, those of caste, ethnicity (tribe) and religion were particularly deliberated upon at length by Constituent Assembly while draft­ ing the Indian Constitution. Seventy-five years later, India stands divided; in some respects more so than in the beginning of its journey of nation-building. Despite all the provisions and the state policies framed to translate them, divisions of caste, ethnicity, and reli­ gion appear to have only become sharper, and occasionally even wider, over time. While in some cases this sharpening of divisions has happened precisely because of the success of India’s affirmative action policies. A good example of this is the emergence of a powerful and articulate middle-class among the ex-untouchable communities, the Scheduled Castes. They have acquired the ability to speak for themselves because of the policy of reservations, which helped some of them expe­ rience economic and social mobility. Same could be said about the Scheduled Tribes, though with lesser surety. However, the overall story is far more complex. Those who live on the margins have continued to stay precarious. Even when a section of them moves up, others may experience further economic marginalisa­ tion and social exclusion during periods of rapid change. The case of Indian Muslims is even more tricky. They are not a community in the classical sociological sense of the term. They are also not a status or a class DOI: 10.4324/9781003280309-1

2

Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid and Surinder S. Jodhka

category, like the SCs or the STs or even the so-called ‘Other Backward Classes’ – the OBCs. Their diversity, of culture, sect, history, region, and even of class and caste, is very significant. However, the colonial policies of enumeration and clas­ sification of populations around religious belief using a semantic narrative of dif­ ference eventually ended up instilling in them a sense of collective identity, and constructing clearly marked boundaries of distinction, which had only been fuzzy differences until then. The Partition and the subsequent politics of identities in South Asia have only sharpened religion-based divides into substantive collectives, marked by hierarchies of power and position, producing a new narrative of major­ ity and minorities. This divergence in the nature of ‘Muslim question’ is also clearly reflected in the emerging scholarship on the subject, including in the chapters of this book. Those working with large data sets on religious groups tend to find interesting patterns in terms of their experience of development during the post-independence period, nationally and regionally. However, closer qualitative studies tend to also report persistent diversities across regions – at times even within regions. These differ­ ences are not merely cultural or communitarian, they also reflect in their aspirations and mobilities.

The Muslim Question India is home to the second largest population of Muslims in a single country in the world today. The Indian Muslims make up around 11% of their entire population of the world. Nationally, they are the largest demographic minority, with nearly 15% of the total population of India. Though the Muslim population is present across the country, they are spread very unevenly. Their concentration significantly varies even among the major states of India, from less than 2% in Punjab and a lit­ tle above 2% in Odisha to 27% in West Bengal, 34% in Assam, and 68% in Jammu and Kashmir. Their diversities are not confined to their demographics. They also manifest in their economies and their position in the political system. However, their lives, livelihood, and identities are also shaped by national and global political processes. How do we then approach the Muslim question in India today? In the face of a spiralling rise of majoritarian nationalism, the subject appears far more pertinent today than in the past. Yet, every epoch in India’s political history is confronted with this question. Marred by its own paradoxes and incongruities – ranging from regional diversities, prevailing social and economic hierarchies to intricate sectarian and doctrinal disputes – the problem has evaded any singular axis. Prior to Inde­ pendence, the Muslim urban elite, part of the well-heeled middle-classes, framed the question as primarily a political one. They sought its resolution in assured rep­ resentation, shared governance, and, eventually, a distinct nationhood. The orthodoxy, in contrast, forever apprehensive of the modernising tenden­ cies of the former, settled on preserving the purity of tradition, belief system, and religio-cultural identity. Their occasional plunge into politics too remained

Introduction

3

primarily oriented towards realising non-material ends. Post-independence, a much-contracted middle-class, burdened by the weight of Partition, shunned political stewardship and public engagement on what could constitute the Muslim question. The traditionalists, on the other, having distanced themselves from the tempo­ ral questions of empowerment, equity, and entitlements, settled on guarantees of non-interference in matters considered cultural and spiritual. In effect, this stance symbolised a trade-off between equity and identity, where the latter prevailed. The secular constitution recognised distinctiveness of culture and community while questions of justice and equality were left to be realised through assurances of uni­ versal citizenship. Democracy and compositeness of national identity were the operational context in which cultural distinctiveness and secularism found their meanings and goals. For many commentators, such as Sunil Khilnani, this together constituted the ‘idea of India’ (Khilnani 1998), during the early decades after Independence. He saw a diversity of opinions, ideas, and styles as constitutive of Indian nationalism, ‘a dhoti with endless folds’. Scholarly reflections on the constitutive idea of India, however, are varied. ‘Can a Muslim be an Indian?’, Gyan Pandey’s provocative essay examined the delibera­ tions in the Constituent Assembly to argue how the core of Indian nationalism rested on a definite majoritarian leaning and constant othering of the Muslim (Pan­ dey 1999). Episodic spells of targeted violence, what Paul Brass (2003) described as pogroms, tended to blemish this liberal imaginary of a ‘diverse yet peaceful India’. A decade later, when the politics of Hindutva had begun baying for blood, Khil­ nani conceded that the plural idea of India had within its store, ‘conceptions that sought to singularise’ Indian diversity ‘and make it a narrower place’. This politics had made Gujarat the ‘calendar girl of big business’, also the ‘purveyor’ of ‘most chauvinistic and poisonous politics’, as he illustrated (Khilnani 2012). He, however, continued to rest his hopes on democracy, an accomplishment of the founders that stood tall in contrast to the broken, ragged histories of India’s neighbours.

Nationhood and Citizenship: The Contested Terrain Corresponding to these contending notions of nationhood have been ideas of citi­ zenship ranging from liberal-universalist to ethno-national supremacist positions. In the early years of the foundation of the Indian Republic, citizenship was at the centre of an acrimonious debate. It prompted questions such as: would nationality or cultural markers have a bearing on citizenship? Or would it privilege a section of the citizenry over the ‘other’ defined in terms of beliefs, origins, and mother tongues? Apart from the range of entitlements that citizens could enjoy, the problem of citizenship showed up in terms of developing a sound principle that could be suf­ ficiently inclusive as much as exclusive. Unmoved by the majoritarian cries that resonated in the Constituent Assembly, the Indian resolution of the vexed prob­ lem was remarkably non-partisan, much in line with the secular foundations of

4

Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid and Surinder S. Jodhka

the national movement. Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru was categorical in this regard: ‘All these rules naturally apply to Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs or Christians or anybody else. You cannot have rules for Hindus, for Muslims or for Christians only. It is absurd on the face of it.’ Attentive to the multiplicity of cultures and persuasions, jus soli (right of soil) found favour over triumphalist calls to make ties of religion, ethnicity, or nationality – jus sanguinis (right of blood) – the basis of citizenship. The Indian Citizenship Act, 1955, conferred citizenship on the basis of birth (to everyone born between 1950 and 1987, and thereafter to anyone born to Indian citizens), descent (born to Indian citizens outside India), naturalisation (foreigners who have lived in India for 12 years or more), and registration (valid immigrants with a continuous stay of 7 years). The republican character of Indian citizenship attested to the non-denominational imaginary of nationhood (Fazal 2020: 96–97). The enactment of the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA 2019) and publica­ tion of the National Register of Citizens (NRC 2019) in Assam re-opened old debates and triggered existential anxieties. The NRC, prejudiced since its very inception, virtually rendered almost two million residents of the state of Assam, stateless, a majority of them being Bengali-speaking Hindus and Muslims. The CAA on the other hand excepted the Muslims in guaranteeing legal member­ ship to refugees from neighbouring states thus allowing for the surreptitious entry of religious and ethnic markers in the attainment of citizenship. This was also a moment of reckoning for the Indian Muslim. Beyond the metaphysics of faith and identity, concrete questions of being and existentiality, entitlements, and equality acquired pertinence. The anti-CAA movement of 2019 marked the arrival of this ‘new Muslim’ – part of the new middle-class. The new Muslim public at the protest sites was not saddled by the symbolism of the past, neither burdened by the guilt of Partition. By its very constitution, this newly emerging class is not dependent on the largesse of the state, unlike the old elite. Feudal ideas of moral control and honour are pro­ gressively less abided by. Dignity and self-respect have made a noticeable headway among the most cherished values. In the new newfound assertion of identity in the public domain, it wishes to make its presence on the terms of equality and recognition. The signs of this change are visible, though less acknowledged. Veil- and hijab­ wearing women transgress the confines of home to enter public spaces – colleges, universities, banks, and bazaars, as do the skull-cap wearing men. As men and women thronged the protest sites, they found new camaraderie sending traditional segregation of sexes as much as the gendered codes of conduct, for a toss. Popularly perceived as hyper-masculine, the community was being led by its women at the protest sites, and it was their resilience that provided vigour and perseverance to one of the most effective mobilisations of the Indian Muslims in the recent history. Despite these perceptible pointers of change, large segments of Indian Muslims continue to live under most perilous conditions. The Global Multi-Dimensional Poverty Index (2018, UNDP and University of Oxford) noted that nearly one-third

Introduction

5

of the Indian Muslims (along with 50% of Scheduled Tribes) count among the poorest in the country (p. 24). NSSO 2017–18 found their educational attainments to be the least, lower than the historically deprived social groups in India. Among those on rolls (15–24 age group), again Muslims fell behind all others. Caught in the vicious cycle of eco­ nomic deprivation and low educational achievements, their performance in the labour market remains sluggish. Indicators for these are lowest worker population ratio (WPR) among all social groups (GOI 2014: 33, 26). Their share in govern­ ment employment remains less than half of their share in the population. Another measure of their deprivation is the abysmally low assets holdings that Muslims cumulatively possess. The move towards globalisation and a free market economy has served as a double-edged sword for those on the margins. Enhanced capital flow, flooding of the consumer market, and rise of employment in the service sector generated aspi­ rations all across the board. But the process had its own pitfalls. It offered a picture of contrasts. Alongside stories of heightened opportunities and upward mobilities, we are also witness to deepening inequality. For certain occupational groups among Muslims, it expanded the market and improved life chances. Many of them could join the ranks of the middle classes. However, the Muslim middle-class, on account of its size, income, and consumption levels, remains weak, a majority of them being in its lowest bracket. Low paid, skill-based self-employment continues to be the predominant mode of Muslim participation in the economy, its precariousness notwithstanding.

Sachar Committee and the Reframing of the Muslim Question Post-globalisation, aspirations have risen significantly. Growth and development is central to this new imagination. The idea of national development, as visual­ ised in the classical Nehruvian imagination, was identity-blind. It held out the promise to expand opportunities and capabilities of one and all, regardless of their social origins. Next to nationalism, it was the assurance of a ceaseless and allround development that served as the raison d’être of the modern state. Sans its economic reduction, development is now the synonym for aspirations for mobil­ ity, education, housing, healthcare, or even sanitation – a process and promise of converting these desires into entitlements, making them a part and parcel of citizenship. In other words, for the common people on the periphery, development is not simply an ideological baggage of the European Enlightenment. It is about their ‘inclusion’ into the new normative of life as equal citizens seeking dignity and rights. However, despite its ideological and political weight, the experience of development on the ground has left much to be desired. Its gains have been quite uneven. On the contrary, the process of development has marked the emergence of new schisms and, in some cases, accentuation of pre-existing exclusions. In other

6

Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid and Surinder S. Jodhka

words, even when it has been a source of enhanced human capabilities for many, its achievements have often created discontent and marginalities among some. The citizenship quest of an Indian Muslim is a fraught one at various levels. She/he vehemently struggles to wriggle out of the religious and identity trope to which she/he is routinely reduced. At the same time, there is a clear and pre­ sent danger to his/her legal claims to citizenship on account of the very identity that she/he possesses. The liberal utopia of an unencumbered, identity-neutral citizen then appears fanciful, if not specious. Yet, the language of citizenship is frequently deployed to highlight the deficits of development and denial of rights. It was perhaps easier for the ‘nation-state’ and its agencies to recognise the caste (SCs) and the tribal (STs) questions. Their developmental concerns (beyond the quotas) began to be mapped and managed as a part of the state policy, nationally and locally. Gender too was easily recognised as an aspect of the development defi­ cit. More difficult were the questions of religion and ethnicity. Given the past his­ tory of the region, of Partition, and communal violence, religion was best avoided, even when evidence pointed otherwise. The institution of a Prime Minister’s High-Level Committee (popularly known as the Sachar Committee) to study the social, economic, and educational status of the Muslims of India marked a significant shift in the framing of the Muslim ques­ tion, from identarian trope to a developmental category. In its approach towards comprehending the reality, the Committee’s Report (2006) was largely an exposi­ tion of the living conditions of a Muslim citizen. It examined their performance in terms of the social and economic capital that they could access for the attainment of substantive citizenship. If, as per T.H. Marshall, citizenship is an ensemble of civil, social, and political rights, the Committee’s Report stood out as a text that exclusively confined itself to the given spheres of a Muslim’s life. Aware of the linkages between problems of identity, security, and equity that typically inform the minority situation in any ‘nation-state’, the Committee absorbed itself with the latter. The realm of culture and tradition that hitherto cornered all public discussions on the Muslim question was kept consciously outside the Committee’s investigative lens. Critical to the Committee’s portrayal of reality was the use of religious commu­ nities as analytical categories across which statistical models or demographic com­ parisons could be made. The socio-religious categories as they came to be termed were not assumed to be monolithic blocks but disaggregated into caste, gender, and income groups. It, thus, argued for a multipronged strategy and careful selection of the target groups even among Muslims. For instance, for Muslims belonging to the Other Backward Classes category, it reviewed the provision of quotas and argued for the bifurcation of the OBC category that could rationalise the distribution of benefits among advanced and most deprived among them. It advocated the inclu­ sion of Arzals, the bottommost in the Ashraf-dominated social hierarchy, among Scheduled Castes, or among the most backward. At the same time, it desisted from recommending blanket reservation for all Muslims.

Introduction

7

Most significantly, the Sachar Committee turned the Muslim question into a developmental problem that could potentially influence intellectual thinking, civil society interventions, and policy formulation. The Report and its startling findings provided an unprecedented recognition of Muslim marginality and underdevel­ opment by the Indian state. Instantaneously, it demolished the myth of Muslim appeasement, a propaganda tool frequently deployed in the Hindutva construct of Hindu victimhood. On the contrary, it underscored the need for systematic and exhaustive empirical research on their social and economic life. For social science research, this called for a definitive shift in approach and emphasis when engaging with Muslims as a subject of analysis. Previously, domi­ nant lenses through which social sciences engaged with Muslims were either communalism and violence, or Islam and its various institutions. The former has featured in the context of the subcontinent’s Partition or, more recently, in the rise of Hindutva, while Islam has been the principal prism of analysis of Muslim socie­ ties, with its obvious orientalist biases. This has been compounded by the inter­ national interest in Islam, spurred to a large measure by 9/11, when the Western intellectual world rushed to make sense of ‘Islamic terrorism’. While the urgency of studying the processes of modernisation, with all its attendant manifestations, in the so-called Muslim world, could not be underlined enough – Western aca­ demia churned out treatises demonstrating Islam’s inability to reconcile with liberal democracy. Much of the sociological research, though empirically grounded, followed the tradition of caste studies in Indian sociology and sought parallels between Hindu and Muslim social formations in this regard. The specificity of Muslim cultural practices – belief system, medicinal tradition, purdah, and divorce – too drew the curiosity of sociologists and social anthropologists, albeit intermittently. Palpably, Muslims as a subject of analysis came to be studied in isolation, in terms of their uniqueness and processes internal to the community. The Muslim interface with politics, state practices, and economic processes found few takers. This has left a feeble legacy of sociological research on Muslim communities and societies. It is far more pertinent therefore to empirically study Muslims in their lived locations and contexts, as artisans, traders, professionals; as students, as recipients of education, as beneficiaries of government policies; and as those seeking access to health services as well as justice in courts of law.

Hindutva Ascendance and Muslim Citizenship Sociologically speaking, development is not simply a celebration of increased economic opportunities, massive infrastructural expansion, or greater presence in the consumer market. Development also begets contradictions, the inevitable tension between material progress and cultural perseverance, the uneven impact of development amongst communities, new forms of cultural interactions and exchanges in the global market, the rise of new classes, and the persistence or decline of the older ones. Since the opening of the floodgates, increased free

8

Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid and Surinder S. Jodhka

market competition has left vulnerable groups apprehensive and insecure leading to the rise of new survival strategies. The Indian Muslim is not a political or identitarian subject alone. The Muslim population continues to be marked by social and economic diversities. The regional contexts of their economies also differ significantly across parts of the country. As chapters in this book show, even when they encounter political marginalisation, sections among them have been doing reasonably well, economically. However, their economic position is not immune to political assaults. A constricted political climate also triggers economic marginalisation of sections of them. Contexts and times matter. The new middle-class, child of globalisation, has its value system quite in con­ tradistinction from its predecessor which primarily owed its existence to public employment and the socialist pattern of economy whose foundations were laid in the Nehruvian era. It’s belief in the market mantra – survival of the fittest – is almost unflinching while its desires know no bounds. Deepening inequality, a con­ sequence of free market economy, is then seen to be a result of individual capacities and capabilities, and rarely as an outcome of structural deficiencies of society and economy. State patronage offered to vulnerable social groups and communities is viewed with suspicion. Consequently, we are witness to the emergence of new animosities, hatred, and violence. The re-structuring of the economy and the consequent rise in aspirational lev­ els, deepening inequality, and anxiety laid grounds for a surge in prejudicial politi­ cal ideologies worldwide. It is in this context that we need to see the rise of Hindu nationalism in the country. Even though it was only during the second decade of the 21st century that Hindu majoritarian politics acquired ascendance in the national life, its presence as an exclusionary normative has been a part of the system since Independence in 1947. The consolidation of the Hindu right-wing and its coming to power in 2014 have had immediate implications for the Muslims of India and their position as citizens of the ‘nation-state’. The new-found development consciousness amongst them received a decisive setback in certain mutually interconnected ways. Imme­ diately after the formation of the government in 2014, the NDA announced its decision to renounce the policy of targeted development. This would imply the abdication of the practice of plan allocation and scheme outlays meant specifically for vulnerable minorities. This was accompanied with a series of state actions, statutory changes, and judicial pronouncements such as decision to criminalise triple talaq, publication of the National Register of Citizenship, the Citizenship Amendment Act, judgment on Babri Mosque–Ramjanambhumi title dispute, the acquittal of all accused in the criminal conspiracy case to demolish the mosque in 1992, the abrogation of Article 370, the promulgation of law against ‘love jihad’, beef ban, the indiscrimi­ nate use of stringent provisions of the IPC against anti-CAA protestors, and so on. There is also a perceptible escalation in targeted violence primarily against Mus­ lims and other social groups. In the given scenario, intensification in exclusionary

Introduction

9

practices in the labour market, housing options, public employment, or access to education could not be ruled out. How does the Muslim question figure during high tides of supremacist majori­ tarianism? A redefinition of the national imaginary which rests on a monochro­ matic idea of Hindu nationhood tends to potentially de-nationalise Muslims. Evidently, majoritarianism operates with a deleterious program where the Muslim is ought to acknowledge his/her secondary status in the Hindu nation, making their marginalisation extraneous to national objectives. For an ordinary Muslim, the fright of being reduced to, what Agamben (1998) would call, bare life – a life stripped off all rights and entitlements – then looms large. Questions of security, consequent to escalated incidents of symbolic violence, acquire a higher premium, without relinquishing developmental aspiration. Far from its formal guarantees, the sociological inquiry into the question of citizenship then demands an analysis of structural circumstances that impede or permit its full realisation. In that sense, one can argue that the citizenship quest for an Indian Muslim is increasingly constricted in the ‘new India’. The experience of ‘constricted citizenship’ is more ‘felt’ than formally docu­ mented. The economic marginalisation of the Indian Muslim is probably only one of the conditions, but not a sufficient one, that encumbers his/her quest for equality and entitlements. For it is true that a section of them have also seized on available opportunities during intermittent periods of economic growth and sub­ stantially improved their life chances. Essays in this volume record the sluggish growth of the Muslim middle-class, trace its roots and social profile, assess its role in the domain of politics and cultural production, and interrogate the values that it has come to cherish. Through avail­ able macro data, as much as through historical and local first-person accounts, the contributors catalogue changing dynamics of social and economic life of the Indian Muslim. A discernible pattern is also noticed in this regard wherein southern states seem to have performed better than their northern counterparts. The constricted citizenship is the product of ‘otherisation’ – a long drawn cul­ tural process of stigmatisation and prejudicial labelling of communities. The Mus­ lim, in the prevailing discourse, has come to embody several representations. The bigot, the traitor, and the terrorist are his/her representations in the domain of politics. At the social and cultural plane, the Muslim is the atypical flesh-eater, obsessively lascivious and polygamous, besides being practitioners of most regres­ sive gender codes. Increasingly, the economic identity of the Muslim in much of north India is that of a ‘puncture-wala’, an auto-mechanic, a tailor, or a vegetable and fruit vendor. In the nationalist imagination, the Muslim serves as the constitu­ tive ‘other’, crucial for the institution of the self. Nationhood is then claimed more from denial and denunciation – of equity, of recognition, of existence itself. This has its reverberations in state policies such as denial of Article 341 benefits to Muslim (also Christian) converts from Scheduled Castes, a targeted attack on Muslim lives and livelihoods in the name of cow nationalism, demands for public display of their national affinity and loyalty, laws against inter-religious marriages

10

Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid and Surinder S. Jodhka

amidst cacophony over ‘love jihad’, criminalisation of divorce laws, scapegoating of members of the Tablighi Jamaat during the pandemic-induced countrywide lockdown, the threat of statelessness with the impending execution of the all India National Register of Citizens and National Population Register, the indiscriminate application of anti-terror laws on Muslim protesters and social activists, and so on. These exclusionary practices of the state aim to constrain the Muslim citizen of his/ her freedoms and choices despite formal guarantees of full and universal citizenship in the constitutional republic. What emerges therefore is a constricted citizenship.

The Plan of the Book The essays in this volume challenge prevailing myths by foregrounding the ordi­ nary and diverse lives of Indian Muslims. They capture the experiences of varied segments of India’s Muslim communities with the processes of social development and economic reforms, systems of stratification and aspirations for mobility, ideas of religion and religiosity, their tryst with law and politics – in essence, their laby­ rinthine journeys of citizenship. The contributors – an assortment of sociologists, development economists, political theorists, and those with forays into history – draw on their disciplinary skills and practices to develop explanatory tools and frames of analysis. By far, it is commonly agreed that the subject begets complexities, and, con­ sequently, a singularity of approach could prove counter-productive. There are regional patterns, elite formations, and plurality of occupations – the development experience has not been uniform all across. On economic indices, Muslims in the southern states do relatively better than their co-religionists in the northern states. Though generally an urban community, Muslims in the eastern states of Bihar, West Bengal, and Assam defy the pattern by counting in large numbers among the peasantry. As indicated in an earlier section of this chapter, the recent scholarship on the Muslims has acquired an interesting kind of divergence. Following the SCR, schol­ arship that focusses on questions of development and economic change tends to work with available data sets and looks for national and regional level trends among the entire demographics of religious communities and along the officially marked divisions among them, such as the general category and those classified among the Other Backward Classes (OBCs). However, this enumerative process does not imply a flattening of the Muslim populations of the subcontinent. Micro-level qualitative studies continue to show significant differences and diversities across regions and sub-regions. These differ­ ences reflect the diverse histories of the Indian Muslims, including in terms of their caste and cultures, which are not reducible to their religious demographics and often also produce intra-community inequalities, of status and economies. The opening chapter by Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan provides a regional or statewise comparison of the experiences of Muslims in terms of income, education, and jobs in relation to other social groups. Using two rounds of the Indian Human

Introduction

11

Development Survey (IHDS) panel data for 2011–12 and 2004–05, which allows for a comparison over time, their findings reveal persisting inequalities and dete­ riorating experiences of Muslims in India. However, data from the southern states shore up certain amount of gains for their Muslim inhabitants. Jaffrelot and Kalai­ yarasan (2019) attribute it to the existence of separate quotas for Muslim groups in the southern states vis-a-vis their virtual absence in the states of north India. Pass­ ingly and perhaps unintentionally, the authors touch upon a theme that, in the past, has been a subject of raging debates within and outside the community. A blanket reservation for all Muslims is resisted by the Muslim OBCs, while a bifurcation of the OBC category that could benefit the backward Muslims is opposed by the advanced OBCs at the national level. The inclusion of Dalit Muslims among Scheduled Castes is denied by the state, the courts, and the SC commission. Sanjeer Alam’s essay (Chapter 3) is yet another attempt to examine the question of Muslims and social development in terms of their spatial location. The chapter explores whether, and to what extent, either social origins or education have an impact on occupational or employment chances; and, whether spatial contexts mediate this relationship between social origins, education, and occupational des­ tination. Using the National Sample Survey 2011–12 for men aged 25–50, the chapter finds that social origins (in terms of caste and religion) have a continuing influence on occupational distribution; while, education does not seem to equalise opportunities for either Muslims or the so-called lower castes. Focusing on Mus­ lims, the chapter finds that the impact of spatial location in terms of states identified as developed and underdeveloped seems to indicate the additional disadvantage suf­ fered by the marginalised in underdeveloped regions of the country. While there have been recent works on patterns of social mobility generally, and on mobility by caste, the picture of broader patterns of social mobility among Muslims and other religious minorities is relatively unexplored. Social mobility is an indicator of opportunities available to groups and individuals to improve their position and to overcome any inherited inequalities. Divya Vaid, in her chapter on inter-generational social mobility (Chapter 4), queries whether all groups have benefited equally in the context of economic changes that have taken place over the past few decades. It provides a macro view of mobility patterns and changes over time for Muslims (both women and men) while comparing these with the mobility of other minority religions and the mobility of Hindus by caste. Where possible, the data is disaggregated to look at categories within Muslims as well. This chapter draws on the National Election Study 2014 data and uses quasi-birth cohorts to map change over time. The question of social mobility is further explored by Aashti Salman in Chap­ ter  8 through fieldwork conducted among the Muslim youth residing in Jamia Nagar, a pre-dominantly Muslim locality in New Delhi. In mobility studies, aspira­ tions, their routes of formation and realisation are increasingly considered critical in comprehending a broader picture. Through in-depth interviews, Salman explores employment aspirations, the factors that lead to these aspirations, and whether these aspirations are met or they evolve over a period of a year and a half. Her research

12

Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid and Surinder S. Jodhka

underlines the importance of self-employment options in shaping and constraining the aspirations of these young men. The role of the family, the peer group, and neighbourhood effects in shaping these aspirations is highlighted. Finally, it finds that after 20 months, even fairly modest aspirations for self-employment remain elusive for many of the young men interviewed. Though the period is short to make a general claim about mobility patterns and aspirations, but Salman examines only short-term goals that the Muslim youths set out for themselves. The chapter therefore makes a limited argument about unmet aspirations. Does modernity replace religiosity, transform it, or the two remain insulated from each other? The relation between development, modernity, and tradition is one of the puzzles that has engrossed sociologists from early on. Contesting the popular assumptions of capitalism and Islam as being incompatible, Visakh and Santhosh, through their study of a breakaway group of traditionalist Muslims of Kerala locally known as the AP Sunnis, argue how the two interact resulting in the production of new religious subjectivities. The transformation of Kerala society in terms of educational and economic development compelled the religious leaders, including the conservative Sunnis, to revisit their perceptions about the underlying notions of progress and well-being of the community. One such compulsion was to integrate secular education with the religious education in the institutions founded by them. Gulf migration and later opportu­ nities provided by neo-liberal economy were utilised skilfully by the AP Sunnis, opening up on new business and entrepreneurial activities – to provide a sound economic foundation to the organisation. Religion and spirituality in turn provide legitimacy to these initiatives resulting in the emergence of a moral community of pious entrepreneurs. Their essay examines these developments closely and tries to understand this religion-development nexus in a globalising world, particularly focusing on the growth of a neoliberal economy that encourages private capital investment and market orientations of faith. The missing middle-class among Muslims or its diminutive size has been a sub­ ject of discussion for long. Two of the essays in the volume specifically study the middle-class formation among Indian Muslims post-liberalisation. Does the rise of a new middle-class among them fill that long felt void? If so, to what extent does it differ from its earlier form in terms of its social composition and ideologi­ cal orientation? Since empirical studies have ascertained that a large section of the Indian Muslims is self-employed, do the new recruits into the middle-class depend on self-employment and skills of entrepreneurship? A co-relation therefore is built between self-employment, caste-based occupational pattern, and opportunities that market-driven economy has facilitated. Apart from probing the question of what constitutes the Muslim middle-class, Fazal studies the extent to which its cultural attributes and aspirations are incongru­ ent with middle class standards and norms to make it a typically Muslim middleclass. His chapter draws from a variety of data sources – narratives, statistics, and life-histories – to comprehend the route, process, and impact of middle-class for­ mation among Indian Muslims. Finally, he comes to argue that more than income

Introduction

13

levels and expenditures, it is social routes, networks, and classificatory practices that should be critical to any sociological examination of the middle-class. In his essay (Chapter  7), Amir Ali seeks answers for the question – what it means to be ‘middle-class’ for Indian Muslims in the given moment. A delayed and depleted middle class, for him, is also a defeated one. Consumption patterns suggest a rise in numbers and size, but it is rarely reflected in the domain of politics result­ ing in an erosion in their entitlements and enfranchisements. While Partition-induced migration patterns led to a purported decline in num­ ber and influence of Muslim middle-class in the northern states of India, Muslims in the southern states remained broadly unaffected. Shaunna Rodrigues (Chapter 5) traces the emergence of a middle-class among Muslim communities of coastal Kar­ nataka by taking us through a long history of their presence in the region. She asks for a spatial reordering in the analysis, away from landholdings and other territorial assets, to the emergence of trade networks across the Indian ocean formed through the port town of Mangalore over the course of more than a millennium. As she shows in her chapter, in the pre-colonial Indian Ocean world, the port and Islam operated in association with each other attracting the immigration of Muslims to Mangalore from different edges of the Ocean. Besides, a large number of lower castes too converted to Islam in search of occupations otherwise banished for them. Rodrigues particularly focuses on one commodity, mainly coffee, in shaping rela­ tions of social mobility for Muslims. In doing so she draws an alternative genealogy of the Muslim middle-class in India, distinct from both stories of gulf remittances as well as those anchoring on liberalisation. Economic development is invariably double-edged. If liberalisation induced a swelling in the ranks of the middle-class, it left a devastating impact on those living on the edges of the economy. Zarin Ahmad explores the world of Muslim musi­ cians in contemporary Banaras in Chapter 9. Though Banaras is known as a city of ghats and temples of Hindu deities, nearly one quarter of its population comprises Muslims of different castes and biraderies, of which the majority are Ansaris, tradi­ tionally the weavers. Critical to the city’s composite culture were the courtesan and their ustads or teachers, a large number of whom being Muslims. Ahmad describes the social organisation of the profession in which the singers or the vocalists occu­ pied higher status, followed by the musicians and lowest place occupied by the shehnai players. The essay documents the lives of teachers and accompanists of courtesans to understand the complex picture of a changing city’s social, cultural, economic, and political landscape. She uses life history and narratives to under­ stand the process of economic marginalisation of a traditional occupation within the changing landscape of music, and how new conditions impact the livelihood choices of musicians. The discussion on marginality is advanced further by Sumeet Mhaskar in his chapter (Chapter  10) on the availability of economic choices in the globalised metropolis such as Mumbai. Mhaskar argues how the ‘rise’ of India on the global economic landscape has been accompanied by the revival of debates regarding the role played by social institutions such as caste, religion, and gender in shaping an

14

Tanweer Fazal, Divya Vaid and Surinder S. Jodhka

individual’s life chances. It engages with this debate by looking at a micro-level case study of the occupational choices of Muslim ex-millworkers in Mumbai city. Reli­ gion as a social institution combined with negative emotions and a lack of political patronage creates barriers for Muslims in the labour market, compelling them to seek livelihood opportunities in a ghettoised economy. Stratification along the line of class, caste, gender, and regional differences among Muslims in India has long been recognised in the social science scholarship and in the policy discourse, such as the SCR. However, the implications of such internal differences among Muslims in understanding social marginality have not been sufficiently explored, empirically and conceptually. This is particularly true for Kerala, where a substantial proportion of the population adheres to the faith. Salah Punathil maps the contrasting social trajectory of two Muslim communi­ ties of Kerala, the Mappilas and the Marakkayars, to understand the diversity and the experience of marginality among the Muslims of the region in Chapter 12. A  historical mapping of the transformation of these two Muslim communities under the larger socio-political and economic conditions would provide a bet­ ter understanding of social inequalities and discrimination among Muslims in Kerala. While historicising the social positions of these communities, the essay specifically brings empirical evidence of the present-day marginality of Mar­ akkayar Muslims with detailed field insights from a village called Vizhinjam in Thiruvananthapuram. Manisha Sethi draws attention towards yet another set of relations that develop­ ment and economic progress often spawns, one between prosperity and stigma. Material progress and socio-cultural accomplishments are often showcased to counter prejudices and stigma. The inverse, however, is also true. In 2008, Azam­ garh came to be referred to as the epicentre of terrorism in popular conscience following a series of bomb blasts whose accused had their origins in the district. This stigmatisation was resisted by the residents of Azamgarh by invoking their cosmopolitan past that had produced literary giants and renowned educational reformers. Applying a historical lens, Manisha Sethi studies the shifting dynamics of stigma – from the bigoted julaha during the 1893 riots to a terrorist in Independent India – in the backdrop of massive social and economic transformation that the district went through. Over the years, the Muslims of Azamgarh gained by the network of educational institutes – seminaries, schools, and colleges – set up in the early 20th century. This created a class of white-collar professionals. It also opened up routes of migration, which brought in visible prosperity to a section of the populace. Ironically, the area’s wider economic and social linkages were to later be held up as proof of the region’s implication in a trans-territorial conspiracy. To support her arguments, Sethi traces the biographies of three terror accused: the first, a cleric in a seminary; the second, a practitioner of traditional Unani medicine; and the third, a white-collar professional. It explores how Azamgarh’s past comes to be sedimented in the lives of these three, and how the trajectories of development play out in individual lives.

Introduction

15

More than a decade after the SCR, this collection of research using a range of methods, data, and field sites provides a much-needed look at the diversity of expe­ riences, challenges, mobilities and marginalities faced by Muslims in India today.

References Agamben, G. 1998. Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Brass, Paul. 2003. The Production of Hindu – Muslim Violence in Contemporary India. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Fazal, Tanweer. 2020. The Minority Conundrum. Delhi: Penguin-Random House, 2020, pp. 96–97. Government of India (GoI). 2014. Post-Sachar Evaluation Committee Report. Delhi: Ministry of Minority Affairs. Jaffrelot, C. and A. Kalaiyarasan. 2019. ‘Most Marginalised of Them All’, Indian Express, Nov. 1. Khilnani, Sunil. 1998/2012. Idea of India. Delhi: Penguin. Pandey, G. 1999. Can a Muslim be an Indian? Comparative Studies in Society and History, Vol. 41(4): 608–629. UNDP. 2018. Global Multi-Dimensional Poverty Index. Oxford: University of Oxford.

SECTION I

Development Trajectories

1 POST-SACHAR INDIAN MUSLIMS

Facets of Socio-Economic Decline1 Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

Introduction In 2005, the Government of India appointed a committee under Justice Rajinder Sachar to assess the condition of Muslims in India. Its findings put forward in the Sachar Committee Report (SCR) showed that Muslims were on the margins in terms of political, economic, and social relevance, and that their average condi­ tion was comparable to, or even worse than, the country’s backward communities including Dalits in certain indicators.2 This was followed by the Report of the National Commission for Religious and Linguistic Minorities (Ranganath Mishra Commission) in 2007 which came to the same conclusion. Another report (drafted by the Post-Sachar Evaluation Committee headed by Amitabh Kundu), in 2014, evaluated the implementation of the decisions taken and concluded that though ‘a start has been made, yet serious bottlenecks remain’ (Kundu 2014: 167).3 It asserted that the policy interventions were not as adequate, given the magnitude of depriva­ tion. The following pages attempt to map the changing socio-economic conditions of Muslims since the Sachar Committee submitted its recommendations and to update the report of the ‘Kundu Committee’. We find that the socio-economic condition of the Muslims has worsened since the Sachar Committee Report (SCR) in 2005, whose recommendations have not been fully implemented – as the ‘Kundu Committee’ has already noticed (Ibid.: 167).4 This is evident from most of the socio-economic indicators, that is income, education, and jobs, which were lower than that of Hindus including Hindu Other Backward Classes but slightly above the Dalits in 2005 – one of the things which have changed. While the situation of the Muslims had already worsened before the rise to power of BJP, in the post-2014 period, political and policy interven­ tions have adversely affected Muslims. As Muslims are being subjected to multiple processes of marginalization in the context of the Hindu nationalist making of a majoritarian state, this chapter maps the socio-economic dimension of such DOI: 10.4324/9781003280309-3

20

Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

marginalization.5 However, we also trace the internal socio-economic differentiation among Muslims, as a section of them have benefited from the double-digit economic growth rate of the 2000s. The Muslim youth appear to be particularly affected post-2014.6 Their educational attainment vis-à-vis SCs and OBCs has dropped since 2014, and their exit from the formal sector is becoming faster, as they hold the highest share in the category called ‘Neither in employment, education nor in training’ (NEET), a broader measure of inadequacy of being in the formal economy. However, this assessment needs to be qualified geographically and sociologi­ cally. The following pages show that Muslims in southern and eastern India in recent times are doing rather fine when compared to their counterparts in northern and western India. Section  1 provides details on the relative position of Muslims vis-à-vis other social groups in most of the socio-economic indicators, that is income, educa­ tion, and jobs. The evidence shows the worsening position of Muslims vis-à-vis other social groups between 2005 and 2012, before the BJP rose to power – a clear indication that they have not been ‘pampered’ by the Congress-led government, contrary to the BJP’s narrative. Section 2 offers details on policy and political inter­ ventions, including an account of how some of these policies and interventions initiated since 2014 have further marginalized Muslims.

Muslims’ Marginalization Before the Rise to Power of BJP We cover here 15 states spread across all regions, north (6 states), east (3 states), west (2 states), and south (4 states). In the North, we find Jammu and Kashmir (where Muslims were 68.3% of the population in the 2011 census), Uttar Pradesh (19.3%), Rajasthan (9.1%), Madhya Pradesh (6.6%), Haryana (17%), and Delhi (12.9%); in the East, Bihar (16.9%), Assam (34.2%), and West Bengal (27%); in the West, Gujarat (9.7%) and Maharashtra (11.5%); and in the South, Karnataka (12.9%), Andhra Pradesh (9.6%), Tamil Nadu (5.9%), and Kerala (26.6%). These selected states account for 95% of the 170 million Muslims enumerated in 2011. To map socio-economic situation of Muslims, we use both the rounds (2004–05 and 2011–12) of the Indian Human Development Survey (IHDS) I and II, done by the National Council of Applied Economic Research (NCAER) in collabora­ tion with the University of Maryland.7 The data provides a panel for 2004–05 and 2011–12, and one can thus trace a mobility of the identical households. Our analysis relies on a sample of 4,562 Muslim households surveyed by the IHDS in 2011–12 (see Table 1.1). The 15 major states selected here account for 93% for Muslim households surveyed. The same sample is available for 2004–05 except the households,8 which got split in 2011–12. This sample takes into account the fact that Indian Muslims are more concentrated in urban and semi-urban locali­ ties than any other community. About 42% of Muslims live in urban areas against 28% among Hindus – including 26% among Dalits and 27% among Hindu OBCs.

Post-Sachar Indian Muslims

21

TABLE 1.1 Basic Statistics

Share in Total Muslims Total Total Sampled Sampled Major States Muslim Population as Sampled Sampled Muslims Muslims Population as Muslims in per Census Persons HHs Persons HHs per Census India (%) 2011 (in %) J&K Assam West Bengal Kerala Uttar Pradesh Bihar Delhi Karnataka Maharashtra Gujarat Andhra Pradesh Rajasthan Haryana MP Tamil Nadu All India

68.3 34.2 27.0 26.6 19.3

5.0 6.2 14.3 5.2 22.3

8,567,485 10,679,345 24,654,825 8,873,472 38,483,967

3,211 2,417 8,285 5,333 15,868

696 756 2,391 1,560 3,732

2,097 844 2,003 1,234 3,807

382 252 555 329 845

16.9 12.9 12.9 11.5 9.7 9.6

10.2 1.3 4.6 7.5 3.4 4.7

17,557,809 2,158,684 7,893,065 12,971,152 5,846,761 8,082,412

6,199 1,946 12,807 12808 6,704 6,467

1,526 489 3,537 3,265 1,724 1,975

1,070 271 1,584 825 610 494

244 59 388 180 158 135

9.1 7.0 6.6 5.9 14.2

3.6 1.0 2.8 2.5 100.0

6,215,377 1,781,342 4,774,695 4,229,479 172,245,158

10,560 7,072 11,451 5970 150,988

2,668 1,755 3,093 1888 40,018

1,452 525 633 294 19,169

325 121 167 85 4,562

(The  corresponding figures for Brahmins and Hindu upper castes are 38% and 39%, respectively – see Appendix I).

Income: When Muslims Come Last In 2011–12, the average annual per capita income of Muslims was Rs 20,062, which was the lowest in the country in terms of broad categories, followed by Rs 20,472 for SCs, Rs 23,841 for OBCs, and Rs 26,037 for all Hindus (Figure 1.1). The Brahmins top the income order with Rs 40,569 followed by the category ‘Other Hindu upper castes’ (excluding Brahmins) of Rs 39,133. The income gap between Muslims and the rest of groups has been widening. The other caste groups including SCs have improved their position in relation to Muslims. By contrast, in both the level and rate of change, Muslims’ condition has worsened, vis-à-vis other groups. In 2004–05, Muslims earned 81% of what Hindus did, but in 2011–12, the percentage declined to 77%. Similarly, Muslims earned 108% of what SCs made in 2004–05, but in seven years, the ratio came down to 98%. Muslims earned 89% of that of OBCs in 2004–05 but only 84% in 2011–12. We examine Muslims as a block because, from a socio-economic point of view, differences between them are remarkably limited, in spite of the fact that they are differentiated along caste lines. The National Sample Survey in its 68th

22

Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

FIGURE 1.1

Average Annual Per Capita Mean Income across Socio-Religious Groups in India (in Rs)

round (2011–12) estimated that OBC Muslims constitute about 51% of total Muslims in India. The IHDS survey that we use here also reports that 53% of total Muslims in India are OBCs. But the difference between OBC Muslims and non-OBC Muslims is limited compared to the gap that remains between Hindu OBCs and other Hindus. The average per capita income of OBC Muslims was Rs 19,263 as against Rs 20,490 in 2011–12 for upper caste Muslims – a mar­ ginal 4% difference. Whereas the per capita income of upper-caste Hindus was Rs 39,133 in 2011–12, the OBCs were much below this level at Rs 23,841 – a 64% difference. OBCs, therefore, lagged behind the average per capita income of ‘All Hindus’ by more than Rs 1,000 a year. By contrast, the per capita income of Muslim OBCs was hardly different from that of the average per capita income of their community (Rs 19,263 against Rs 20,062). If disaggregated by states (Table 1.2), Muslims in southern and western India are doing fine compared to their counterparts in northern and eastern India except in small states such as J&K and Delhi (where annual per capita income of Muslims is Rs 36,865 and Rs 36,266, respectively). In 2011–12, the annual per capita income of Muslims in Kerala is Rs 34,305 which is more than twice that of the UP (Uttar Pradesh) Muslims (Rs 15,505) and almost thrice of Bihar (Rs 12,418). The aver­ age income of Muslims in Tamil Nadu is Rs 24,737 followed by Maharashtra (Rs 22,847), Karnataka (Rs 20,473), AP (Rs 18,933) and Gujarat Muslims (Rs 18,864). Other lower performing states are Haryana (Rs 13,952), MP (Madhya Pradesh) (Rs 17,997), and West Bengal (Rs 17,606). The only exception to this pattern are Muslims in Rajasthan where they earn Rs 26,496, which is quite close to their counterparts in South India.

Post-Sachar Indian Muslims

23

TABLE 1.2 Average Annual Per Capita Income (in Rs)

Regions

 

  North

  J&K UP Haryana Delhi MP Rajasthan Gujarat Maharashtra Bihar West Bengal Assam Karnataka Kerala AP Tamil Nadu

Brahmins Upper Castes

2004–05 15,611 10,643 15,072 18,785 10,683 13,917 West 20,528 19,492 East, 9,747 21,054 15,377 South 23,641 11,800 25,425 17,003 All India 15,316 2011–12 J&K 38,548 North UP 25,774 Haryana 60,509 Delhi 58,807 MP 32,879 Rajasthan 41,906 West Gujarat 44,144 Maharashtra 44,638 East Bihar 28,093 West Bengal 50,113 Assam 38,060 South Karnataka 73,505 Kerala 53,461 AP 50,242 Tamil Nadu 63,749 All India 40,569

16,226 13,052 18,720 21,576 9,886 13,948 14,653 15,344 7,548 17,653 11,816 12,298 18,348 11,708 7,588 14,711 52,511 28,430 79,506 72,633 33,025 37,512 46,406 35,264 25,304 37,995 30,781 37,129 53,770 26,937 64,611 39,133

OBCs

SCs

All Hindus

All Muslim Muslims OBCs

-

12,841 14,637 11,179 5,991 4,915 6,969 6,104 12,909 7,489 13,596 6,391 16,183 17,122 18,166 13,179 6,256 4,560 6,381 7,107 9,891 6,366 9,497 8,454 7,751 9,964 9,862 7,546 10,434 9,445 11,566 8,515 4,944 4,243 5,271 5,672 9,540 7,722 11,681 6,242 11,742 11,213 11,587 10,905 9,127 7,698 9,814 8,274 13,906 10,991 14,454 15,007 8,260 6,796 8,423 9,622 11,520 6,991 9,758 9,101 8,667 7,142 9,559 7,750

15,539 35,260 37,093 17,837 24,131 26,282 28,448 14,439 20,963 46,913 27,387 45,609 21,118 35,382 23,841

31,393 11,762 20,566 45,285 14,929 17,240 27,348 26,172 10,767 22,276 31,006 20,183 41,658 18,345 28,109 20,472

40,554 17,004 42,206 51,273 18,986 24,583 30,142 30,917 15,125 28,092 31,491 27,491 47,098 21,395 35,078 26,037

36,865 15,505 13,952 36,266 17,997 26,496 18,864 22,847 12,418 17,606 18,636 20,473 34,305 18,933 24,737 20,062

­ 5608 6382 ­ 6807 8516 8009 6533 4929 Nil Nil 8,806 14,627 9,570 9,115 7,863

14,469 13,784 16,686 28,140 18,556 21,527 12,751 Nil Nil 19,641 32,815 18,445 24,701 19,263

Muslims versus Hindus Muslims earn, on average, 77% of what Hindus do in India (see Table 1.3). But the gap is smaller in poor states (Muslims earn 95% of what the Hindus earn in MP, 91% in UP and J&K, and 82% in Bihar) than below the Vindhyas (where the per­ centages are respectively 70%, 73%, 74% and 75% for Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Maha­ rashtra, and Karnataka). In AP, they earn about 89% of what Hindus do. The gap is

24

Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

TABLE 1.3 Income Gap of Muslims with Reference to Different Social Groups (in %)

With Reference to SCs = 100

With Reference to OBCs = 100

With Reference to

All Hindus = 100

Regions

 

All Muslims

All Muslims

All Muslims

 

  J&K UP Haryana Delhi MP Rajasthan Gujarat Maharashtra Bihar West Bengal Assam Karnataka Kerala AP Tamil Nadu  

2004–05 87.1 124.2 85.3 77.0 155.9 132.8 75.7 90.2 133.7 80.8 97.3 107.5 136.5 141.6 130.2 108.5

2004–05 101.9 49.5 81.4 113.6 85.5 97.4 81.6 114.7 65.4 92.9 90.6 107.9 116.5 79.0 89.4

2004–05 76.4 87.6 47.0 72.5 111.4 89.0 76.5 73.6 107.6 53.4 94.1 84.3 103.8 114.2 93.3 81.1

North

West East

South

All India

2011–12 117.4 131.8 67.8 80.1 120.6 153.7 69.0 87.3 115.3 79.0 60.1 101.4 82.4 103.2 88.0 98.0

2011–12 99.8 39.6 97.8 100.2 109.8 71.8 80.3 86.0 84.0 39.7 74.8 75.2 89.7 69.9 84.1

2011–12 90.9 91.2 33.1 70.7 94.8 107.8 62.6 73.9 82.1 62.7 59.2 74.5 72.8 88.5 70.5 77.1

the largest in West Bengal as well as Gujarat (where Muslims earn only 63% of what Hindus earn in both states) and in Haryana (where Muslims earn only 33% of what Hindus earn, partly because of the poor condition of Muslim-dominated districts like Mewat and, in contrast, the affluence of the adjacent Hindu-dominated district of Gurgaon). Muslims earn only about 71% of what Hindus earn even in Delhi. In sum, Muslims earn less than Hindus in all the states except Rajasthan where they earn 108% of what Hindus earn. The Muslims’ condition clearly worsened since the submission of Sachar Com­ mittee Report in 2006. When we compare the average income of Muslims and Hindus in 2004–05 to 2011–12, Muslims further lost to Hindus in most of the states except in Rajasthan where they gained from 89% to 108%, 53% to 63% in West Bengal, and marginally from 88% to 91 in UP.

Muslims versus Hindus OBCs In no state are Muslims better off than Hindu OBCs except in Rajasthan where they earn 110% of what Hindu OBCs earned in 2011–12. In states such as Hary­ ana and Assam, Muslims earn less than half of what OBCs do. Muslims per capita income represents about 40% of that of Hindu OBCs in these two states, while it is 70% in Tamil Nadu, 72% in Gujarat, 80% in Maharashtra, 75% in Kerala and Karnataka, 84% in West Bengal, 86% in Bihar, and 90% in AP. In UP, Muslims earn exactly that of Hindu OBCs and put up equal competition (98%) to the latter in Delhi. In India as a whole, Muslims earned 84% of that Hindu OBCs in 2011–12.

Post-Sachar Indian Muslims

25

However, this was not the case seven years before. Muslims were better than Hindu OBCs in 5 of 15 states. The per capita income of Muslims was 117% of that of Hindu OBCs in AP, 115% in Bihar, 114% in MP, and 108% in Kerala in 2004–05 and deteriorated respectively to 90%, 86%, 100%, and 75% in 2011–12. Of 15 states, in 11 states, Muslims’ relative position to OBCs deteriorated during 2004–05 to 2011–12. The states that witnessed the sharpest decline are Assam (53 percentage points) followed by Kerala (33 percentage points), Bihar (29 percentage points), and AP (27 percentage points).

Muslims versus Dalits The Sachar Committee placed Muslims slightly above Dalits and lower than OBCs in terms of social economic indicators. But the condition of Muslims further dete­ riorated since then. In most of the states, Muslims are worst off compared to Dalits. Of the 15 states presented here, Muslims earn less than Dalits in 9 states. In Assam, Muslims earn 60% of what Dalits do, followed by 68% in Haryana, 69% in Gujarat, 79% in West Bengal, and 80% in Delhi. The states where Muslims earn more than Dalits are Rajasthan (153%) followed by UP (132%), MP (121%), J&K (117%), and Bihar where they earn 115% of what Dalits do. The states where Muslims compete very closely with Dalits are AP where they earn 103% of what Dalits do, followed by 101% in Karnataka and 88% in Tamil Nadu. As a whole of India, the average of income of Muslims is 88% of what Dalits made in 2011–12. This was, however, not the case seven years before. Muslims were better off compared to Dalits in most of the states in 2004–05. Muslims earned more than Dalits in 8 of 15 states. For instance, Muslims earned, as against Dalits: 156% in MP, 142% in AP, 137% in Kerala, 134% in Bihar, 133% in Rajasthan, 130% in Tamil Nadu, 124% in UP, and 108% in Karnataka. Seven years later, Muslims slipped down to Dalits in Kerala and Tamil Nadu. In Karnataka, they were neck to neck to Dalits in 2011–12 at 101%. And the states where Muslims earned less than Dalits in 2004–05 have seen the further decline in their position vis-à-vis Dalits except in J&K. where they have gained from 87% to 117%. In Haryana, Muslims earned 85% of what Dalits did in 2004–05, and seven years later it slipped into 68% in 2011–12. The corresponding figures for Assam are 97% and 60%, respec­ tively. The respective figures for Gujarat are 76% and 69%. West Bengal has seen a marginal decline from 81% in 2004–05 to 79% in 2011–12. On all India average, Muslims earned 109% what Dalits did in 2004–05 and seven years later they lost to Dalits, where the figure became 88% in 2011–12. This trend only shows the secular decline not just of Muslims vis-à-vis Hindus but also of Muslims vis-à-vis Hindu OBCs and Dalits.

Education: the Widening Gap between Muslims and Hindus Muslims do better in education in south India than in the rest of the country. Tamil Nadu tops in the education of Muslim, partly because of century-old reservation

26

Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

policy of the state where Muslims are accommodated within the scheme of reser­ vation if we exclude small states like Delhi. In 2011–12, the percentage of gradu­ ates among Muslims in Tamil Nadu is 10.7%, followed by J&K (7.6%), Assam (5.5%), Kerala (4.3%), AP (3.8%), Maharashtra (3.6%), and UP (3.5 %). The least performing states are Haryana (0.6%), Gujarat (1.6%), and West Bengal (2%). States such as Karnataka (2.8%), Rajasthan (2.4%), and MP (2.8%) are placed between these two extremes. These results are better than those of 2004–05, but they do not necessarily reflect a significant educational improvement among Muslims when one compares them with Hindus. In all the states, the percentage of graduates among Muslims is lower than that of Hindus, except in Tamil Nadu where they represent 10.7% of the community as against 8.9% for Hindus, in J&K (7.6% against 7.1%), and in Delhi (12.2% against 10.7). The educational distance between Muslims and Hindus is higher in rich states as compared to the poorer ones. For instance, the percentage of graduates among Muslims and Hindus is respectively 0.6% and 7.1% in Haryana, 4.3% and 10.7% in Kerala, 1.6% and 5.6% in Gujarat, and 3.6% and 7.6% in Maharashtra. The gap is more narrow in states such as Assam (5.5% among Muslims as against 6.6% for Hindus) and UP (3.5% as against 5.1 for Hindus), while the level of education is the same for both Hindus and Muslims in Bihar. In MP, the trend was reversed in 2011–12 as 3.4% of graduates for Muslims as against 2.8% for Hindus. However, in the last seven years, as in income, Hindus gained more than Mus­ lims in education. The educational gap measured in terms of percentage of gradu­ ates between Hindus and Muslims in 2004–05 was 1.7 percentage points; it became 2.3 percentage points in 2011–12. Of 15 states, in 8 states, the educational position of Muslims vis-à-vis Hindus further deteriorated.

Muslims versus Hindu OBCs While Muslims’ position in education marginally improved since 2004–05, their situation in relation to Hindu OBCs further worsened during 2004–05 to 2011–12 in 8 of 15 states presented here. States such as Assam, Maharashtra, Haryana, and Karnataka have seen the worst decline in the relative position of Muslims with respect to OBCs. This could be because of upward educational mobility of OBCs thanks to the reservation in education introduced by the Mandal II reform, that resulted in the creation of a 27% quota for OBCs in the universities in 2006. Muslims lag behind Hindu OBCs in the percentage of graduates in all states except MP (where they have 2.8% – against 2.5% among Hindu OBCs) and in Bihar where they are at 3.1% against 2.7% among Hindu OBCs, in Tamil Nadu at 10.7% against 9.4% among Hindu OBCs, and in Delhi at 12.2% against 8.6%. The educational distance between Hindu OBCs and Muslims in the percentage of graduates is much sharper in states such as Assam (14% – against 5.5% among Muslims), Haryana (5.4% – against 0.6% among Muslims), Kerala (9.2% – against

Post-Sachar Indian Muslims

27

TABLE 1.4 Education (Percentage of Graduates)

Regions

States

Brahmins Upper Castes OBCs SCs

 

 

2004–05

North

J&K MP Rajasthan UP Haryana Delhi Gujarat West Maharashtra Bihar East West Bengal Assam Karnataka South Kerala AP Tamil Nadu All India  

5.9 9.6 7.8 6.2 11.6 9.7 17 16 4.6 17.4 13.4 21.9 12.8 7.1 19.7 10.5

 

2011–12

North

 

J&K MP Rajasthan UP Haryana Delhi West Gujarat Maharashtra East Bihar West Bengal Assam South Kerala Karnataka AP Tamil Nadu All India  

7.1 10.8 12.9 10.1 15.7 21.9 19.1 26.1 7.5 22 17 18.5 24.4 Nil 21.1 14.4

All Hindus All Muslims

10.3 6.5 6.7 8.4 9.2 10.4 5.9 8.3 5.5 11.5 4.2 4.7 11.8 4.9 6.9 7.4

Nil 1.7 2.1 2.2 3.1 3.4 1 3.5 1.9 4.3 6.4 2.9 6.4 1.9 6.2 2.9

1.1 0.8 1.1 1.2 0.8 5.4 2.7 1.9 0.5 1.8 3 1.4 3.2 1.4 2.1 1.5

5.9 2.4 2.7 3 4 6.5 3.2 4.2 2.1 5.8 3.8 3.2 7.2 2.2 4.9 3.6

3.3 1.2 1.8 1.9 0.5 7.0 0.8 2.3 1.6 1.3 1.9 1.6 1.9 1.5 4.4 1.8

11.0 9.1 11.6 13.9 14.4 16.6 11.7 11 8.1 14.2 7.2 17 6.9 9.9 21.1 11.5

Nil 2.5 3.4 3.6 5.4 5.9 2.1 7.8 2.7 6.5 14 9.2 4.8 4.9 9.4 4.9

2.0 1.6 2.1 2.3 2.1 8.6 4.8 5.1 0.9 2.7 4 6.7 3.4 4.4 5.5 3.1

7.1 3.4 4.7 5.1 7.1 10.7 5.6 7.6 3.1 7.6 6.6 10.7 5.3 5.5 8.9 5.9

7.6 2.8 2.4 3.5 0.6 12.2 1.6 3.6 3.1 2 5.5 4.3 2.8 3.8 10.7 3.7

4.3% among Muslims), and Maharashtra (7.8% – against 3.6 among Muslims). The gap is narrower in Rajasthan, UP, and Gujarat.

Muslims versus Hindu Dalits Muslims lagged behind Dalits in education in 7 of the 15 states presented here in 2011–12 (see Table 1.4). In the rest of the states, they were very close to Dalits

28

Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

in the percentage of graduates except in Tamil Nadu (where they are at 10.7% – against 5.5% among Hindu Dalits), in UP (3.5% – against 2.3% among Hindu Dalits), in Bihar (3.1% – against 0.9% among Hindu Dalits), and in Assam (5.5% – against 4% among Dalits). Of seven states where Muslims lag behind Dalits in per­ cent of graduates, the gap is much wider in states such as Kerala (4.3% as against 6.7% among Dalits), Gujarat (1.6% as against 4.8% among Dalits), Maharashtra (3.6% as against 5.1% among Dalits), and Haryana (0.6 as against 2.1% among Dalits). This was not the case seven years before. The Sachar’s report was correct that Muslims were indeed better than Dalits in 8 of 15 states analysed here. Muslims not only lost ground in two more states (Karnataka and AP) vis-à-vis Dalits during 2004–05 to 2011–12, but also their condition in relation to Dalits further worsened in the rest of the states. Here, the fact that Muslims are lagging behind Dalits in terms of education does reflect the lack of not only progress among the former, but also of the relatively faster rate of progress among the latter.

Jobs: When the Informal Sector Prevails The socio-economic condition of Muslims, who are over represented among arti­ sans (including mechanics) and petty shopkeepers, is directly related to their very large participation in the informal sector. On the whole, the percentage of salaried people among Muslims is 12.9% – lower than Hindus (16.7%), Hindu OBCs (13.7%) and SCs (14.7%) in 2011–12 (see Table 1.5). They are employed in household industries and are by and large self-employed (as laborers, artisans, and shopkeepers). About 42% of Muslims work as daily labourers, which is one of the highest in the country next only to Dalits (54.8%). Not surprisingly, the next big sector where Muslims are employed is the petty trade. The percentage of Muslims who work in this sector is about 19% which is highest as compared to any other socio-religious groups in this country. Among the states, Delhi tops in the percentage of salaried Muslims where 37% of them are in salaried class followed by 29.7% in J&K, 24.4% in Maharashtra, 21.7% in Kerala, 20.1% in Rajasthan, and 17.7% in Gujarat. Less than 10% of them had a salaried job in the three states where they were among the poorest (Haryana, Bihar, and West Bengal), whereas more than 20% of them had a salaried job in two of the states where they were the richest (Kerala and Maharashtra). This achieve­ ment is partly due to reservation policies: many South Indian Muslims enjoy some form of positive discrimination there. Karnataka set aside 4% for Muslims as ‘more backward’ within the OBC category, and in Kerala, Muslims are given 12% subquotas within the 40% reserved for OBCs in government jobs. Only exception to this trend is MP and Rajasthan where the percentage of salaried among Muslims is 18% and 20%, respectively. The fact that Muslims do relatively well in spite of the fact that they not benefit from reservations in these two states needs to be explored. If we compare with all Hindus, in no state are Muslims better off than Hindus in terms of salaried jobs, except J&K, MP, and Rajasthan. In Haryana, West Bengal, and Assam, the percentage of salaried among Muslims is less than half of that of

Post-Sachar Indian Muslims

29

TABLE 1.5 Jobs (Percentage of Salaried)

Region

States

Brahmins Upper Castes OBCs SCs

 

 

2004–05

North

J&K MP Rajasthan UP Haryana Delhi Gujarat West Maharashtra Bihar East West Bengal Assam Karnataka South Kerala AP Tamil Nadu All India  

32 21.4 33.5 19.5 40.5 74.2 40.3 42.9 13.4 39.7 20.7 26 11.6 52.7 31 31.4

 

2011–12

 

J&K MP Rajasthan UP Haryana Delhi West Gujarat Maharashtra East Bihar West Bengal Assam South Karnataka Kerala AP Tamil Nadu All India  

North

26.9 17.1 38.9 22.4 45.8 87.2 29.4 54.1 15.2 36.8 25.1 24.6 39.7 24.2 31.3 30.1

All Hindus All Muslims

41.1 12.2 25 21.1 22.1 69.1 20.3 41.2 14.6 30.3 20 8.8 19.7 12.7 11.9 24.5

Nil 6.2 13.9 11.8 19.1 48.5 14.4 12.5 7.5 21.4 27.2 8.5 11 11.7 12.1 13

41.2 7.5 10 8.8 16.1 67.3 29.7 27 10.2 12.1 17.2 9.4 16.8 10.3 7.8 13.5

35.9 8.3 14.8 12.8 20.4 62.3 18.4 25.3 9 21.7 19.1 8.7 14.5 11.8 10.8 16

27.3 13.7 19.2 8.8 11.8 34.4 11.6 23.9 12.9 9.0 8.1 8.0 11.0 11.9 13.4 13.3

31.8 16.7 22.3 17.1 25.3 62.7 25.2 40.8 13.1 26.4 29.2 18.4 30.9 12.3 23.6 25

Nil 10.7 12.4 9.9 20.7 43.3 14.9 9.9 6 14.5 35.3 11.8 22 11.9 14 13.7

27.5 11.5 11.7 9.6 18.5 63.3 26.8 27.5 7.7 12.2 21.8 12.6 17.6 13.4 10.6 14.7

28.2 10.8 14.5 11.9 23 60.1 18 25.7 7.5 19.2 24.7 11.9 23.8 12.5 13.6 16.7

29.7 17.6 20.1 11.1 9.1 37.3 17.7 24.4 7.4 6.4 8.2 11.9 21.7 9.1 10.8 12.9

Hindus (see Table 1.6). Similarly, in 9 of the 15 states analysed here, the percentage of salaried among Muslims is less than that of Dalits. Unsurprisingly, Kerala is one of the two states (the other is UP) where Hindu Dalits do not have a higher per­ centage of salaried jobs than Muslims (17.6% as against 21.6%). And in Karnataka, the percentage of the graduates among Muslim OBCs is higher than the Muslim average (3.1% as against 2.8%), showing that reservations help.

30

Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

TABLE 1.6 Main Source of Income for Different Socio-Religious Groups

Cultivators Laborers Petty Traders Business Salaried Rent/Pension Others All

Brahmins

Upper Castes

OBCs

SCs

All Hindus

All Muslims

29.4 8.9 11.4 1.6 30.1 10.7 7.8 100.0

31.6 15.9 12.5 2.3 25.0 7.6 5.0 100.0

31.6 32.7 10.7 1.1 13.7 4.4 5.9 100.0

15.0 54.8 6.7 0.2 14.7 3.7 4.8 100.0

27.7 35.0 9.4 1.0 16.7 5.0 5.2 100.0

13.5 41.7 18.7 1.5 12.9 3.8 8.0 100.0

Are Muslims More Homogenous than Hindus? While the last decade has seen class differentiation across socio-religious groups in India, this differentiation has been less applicable to Muslims in India.9 Muslims are less class differentiated than their Hindu counterparts. The graphical representation of inequality in per capita income is illustrated by the relative Lorenz curves of each social group in Figure 1.2. The Lorenz curve for Muslims is very close to the 45-degree line while the curve for Hindu upper castes is far away from the central line. For other social groups, the curves are placed between these two extremes. This gets reflected in the pattern of inequality represented by Gini coefficients among the social groups in India. Inequality within Muslims is lower than that of Hindus in India. The Gini coefficient of Muslims is 0.49 as against 0.54 for Hindus. The fact that Muslims are more homogenous than Hindus becomes evident when we compare these two groups across states. In no state, the Gini coefficient of Mus­ lims (see Table 1.7) is higher than that of Hindus, except in Andhra Pradesh where it is 0.50 against 0.45 of Hindus, in J&K (0.47 against 0.45 among Hindus), and Delhi (0.52 against 0.48 among Hindus). Inequality among Muslims is the high­ est in West Bengal (Gini 0.50) followed by Rajasthan (0.51) and Andhra Pradesh (0.50). The states of Kerala (0.38), Haryana (0.39), and Madhya Pradesh (0.39) have the least inequality (according to the Gini coefficient) among Muslims. Similarly, if we compare Muslims with Hindu OBCs, inequality within Muslims is lower than that of Hindu OBCs in all states, except in AP (where Gini coefficient of Muslims is 0.46 against 0.50 of OBCs) and in Rajasthan (0.51 against 0.49 of OBCs).

Unequal Elites All communities are differentiated along class lines. However, the magnitude of this class differentiation varies. It is much less pronounced among Muslims, as com­ pared to any other social groups except Dalits in India. For instance, if we divide income across quintiles of population, the elite Hindus – the highest quintile (20% of the group) – control 59% of the total income of all Hindus, while the corre­ sponding figure for Muslims is 54% and 57% for Hindu OBCs.

Post-Sachar Indian Muslims

FIGURE 1.2

31

Relative Lorenz Curves for Per Capita Income of Social Groups in India in 2011–12

TABLE 1.7 Inequality (2011–12)

Region North

States

J&K MP Rajasthan UP Haryana Delhi West Gujarat Maharashtra East Bihar West Bengal Assam South Karnataka Kerala AP Tamil Nadu All India  

Brahmins Upper Castes OBCs SCs

All Hindus All Muslims

0.43 0.62 0.52 0.57 0.57 0.53 0.55 0.36 0.59 0.48 0.44 0.53 0.27 0.35 0.52 0.55

0.45 0.55 0.51 0.52 0.56 0.48 0.59 0.47 0.52 0.56 0.53 0.52 0.42 0.45 0.45 0.54

0.47 0.63 0.58 0.58 0.60 0.50 0.58 0.44 0.61 0.53 0.45 0.57 0.37 0.49 0.48 0.54

0.36 0.50 0.49 0.48 0.46 0.38 0.57 0.50 0.48 0.49 0.50 0.51 0.46 0.46 0.46 0.52

0.42 0.43 0.40 0.44 0.39 0.48 0.49 0.44 0.43 0.56 0.53 0.40 0.34 0.35 0.36 0.48

0.47 0.39 0.51 0.47 0.39 0.52 0.47 0.42 0.43 0.51 0.36 0.41 0.38 0.50 0.43 0.49

Although class differentiation does exist in all the groups, the elites are not equal among groups. For instance, the average income of richest quintile of Mus­ lims is Rs 54,296 as against Rs 75,633 of Hindus. The richest quintile of Dalits income (Rs 54,429) is slightly above that of Muslims. The corresponding figures

32

Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

respectively for Hindu OBCs, Hindu upper castes, and Brahmins are Rs 67,298, Rs 111,799, and Rs 118,803, respectively. This clearly shows that Muslims are dif­ ferentiated by class but that this hierarchy is less marked than among Hindus.

Marginalization of Muslim Youth Since 2014 While we don’t have consistent data from the IHDS to follow the trend in the post­ 2011–12, the recent ‘suppressed’ NSS data10 released by the Ministry of Statistics and Programme Implementation in June 2019, however, shows further deteriora­ tion of Muslims, particularly of its youth. Though the data are strictly not com­ parable with the IHDS, the released data clearly shows the direction of the trend. We use three variables here: the percentage of Muslim educated youth vis-à-vis other social groups (aged 21–35  years) having completed graduation and above (Figure 1.3), the percentage of youth (aged 15–24 years) currently in educational institutions, and the percentage of youth who are in ‘Neither in employment, education nor in training’ (NEET) category, a broader measure of employment inadequacy for the age cohort 15–24 years of age. These variables together reflect pathways of educational mobility of youth in the country. The youth having the degrees of graduation and above among Muslims in 2017–18 is 14% as against 18% among Dalits, 25% among Hindu OBCs, and as high as 37% among Hindu upper castes. The gap between SCs and Muslims is 4 percentage points (ppts) in 2017–18. Six years before (2011–12), SC youth was just marginally above that of Muslims in educational attainment – just one percentage point. SCs clearly took over Muslims between 2011–12 and 2017–18. Similarly, the gap between Muslims and Hindu OBCs was 7 percentage points (ppts) in 2011–12, and now it has gone up to 11% ppts.

FIGURE 1.3

Percentage of Youth Having Graduate Degree and above for Social Groups (2012–2018)

Post-Sachar Indian Muslims

33

There are considerable geographical variations of such trend. For instance, the educational attainment gap between SCs and Muslims is highest in Uttarakhand (16 ppts), followed by Gujarat (14 ppts), Rajasthan (12 ppts), Haryana (12 ppts), Kerala (11 ppts), Maharashtra and UP (7 ppts). Six years before (2011–12), in all of these states, SCs had taken over Muslims but stood just slightly above them. What we see now is convergence between Hindu SCs and OBCs who experi­ ence greater mobility, while Muslims are being sidelined. Such marginalization of Muslims becomes clear when we look at the percentage of youth currently in educational institutions because entry into educational system is a significant factor that sets the path for future educational attainment. The percentage of youth who are currently in educational institutions is the low­ est among Muslims in the country (Figure 1.4). Only 39% of Muslims in the age cohort of 15–24 are in educational institutions as against 44% in SCs, 51% in Hindu OBCs, and 59% among Hindu upper castes. In states such as Haryana (22%), Gujarat (29%), Rajasthan (32%), UP (32%), and West Bengal (36%) their performances are lower than the all India average, while in Kerala (60%), Tamil Nadu (48%), Telangana (56%), Assam (44%), and Maharashtra (40%) they do better than the national average. What is new is that a sizeable proportion of Muslim youth are making exit from the formal system, that is, moving into the NEET category (Figure 1.5). Thirty-one per cent of Muslim youth fall in this category – the highest in the country – followed by 26% among SCs and 23% among Hindu OBCs and 17% among Hindu upper castes. While sources of the marginalization began much before, what is striking is the acceleration of such marginalization in the recent times. A 2018 comprehensive study with a longer period only strengthens our argument that Muslims are biggest losers in the educational mobility while others including SCs have gained.11

FIGURE 1.4

Percentage of Youth Currently in Educational Institutions in 2017–18 (in %, within 15 to 24 Years of Age)

34

Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

FIGURE 1.5

Percentage of Excluded Youth – Who are Neither in Education Nor in Jobs in 2017–18 (in %, within 15 to 24 Years of Age)

Politics and Policies Section 1 analysed the relative decline of Muslims vis-à-vis other social groups in most of the socio-economic indicators since the Sachar Committee submitted its recommendations. This section tries to map the policy interventions which had been initiated under the UPA government for improving the condition of Muslims and compares them with the policies which have been introduced after the 2014 elections.

State Intervention: What Muslims’ ‘Appeasement’? Traditionally in India, the state interventions – both by central and state governments – designed for improving the socio-economic condition of the Indian Muslims broadly occurred in three ways: positive discrimination, educational sup­ port through the Ministry of Minority Affairs – including the recognition of a minority status to educational institutions (a status that gives more autonomy to these institutions), and support to madrasas. In 1983, Indira Gandhi appointed a ten-member committee under Dr Gopal Singh – a former diplomat – to enquire about the minorities’ socio-economic con­ dition. The report that was submitted on June 14, 1983 brought forth the dismal socio-economic condition of Muslims and observed that there was a ‘sense of dis­ crimination prevailing among the minorities’ and that it ‘must be eliminated, root and branch if we want the minorities to form an effective part of the mainstream’.12 The report recommended two things: ensure fair representation of minorities in all

Post-Sachar Indian Muslims

35

government bodies, particularly at the decision-making levels, and end the prevail­ ing sense of discrimination in government’s recruitments through adequate Muslim representation in the selection process. However, the said committee’s recommen­ dations did not materialize (Ramakrishnan 2006).13 Contrary to Hindu nationalist charge of Muslims’ ‘appeasement’, the Congress did nothing in improving the condition of Muslims. Twenty years later, in 2005, echoing the similar concerns of deprivation, the Sachar Committee Report (SCR) observed that while Muslims were supposed to be pampered by the state, ‘it is not recognized that the alleged appeasement has not resulted in the desired level of socio-economic development of the community.’14 Additionally, it pointed out ‘the community exhibits deficits and deprivation in practically all dimensions of development’. The committee places the condition of the Muslims slightly above Dalits but below Hindu OBCs and upper castes in almost all indicators considered. Moving beyond an exclusive focus on caste-based reservations, it suggested a combination of anti-discrimination and diversity pro­ motion measures to pursue social justice for Muslims. The committee also took cognizance of social stratification within Muslims, as some sections of Muslim society were in a better position than others. However, the SCR has not received as much attention in policy discourse as in politics – as evident from the aggressivity of Hindu nationalist critiques. Notably, one can safely argue that it marked a conceptual shift in addressing the community’s deprivation from a question of identity to one of substantial material concerns, that is, educational backwardness and economic marginality of Muslims. But the action on the committee’s recommendations was dismal. In a recent debate, Syeda Saiyidain Hameed, a former member of the planning commission, admitted that the Planning commission did not allocate the requisite funds for implementing the Sachar Committee’s recommendations.15 In sum, the report didn’t have as much impact on policy levels as much as it did in politics. Nor the Congress which appointed the committee had shown as much enthusiasm in implementing the report’s recommendations as much it did in publicizing it for electoral purpose. The Hindu Nationalist led by the BJP exploited this move, which it called ‘vote bank politics’. The BJP has not only opposed the recommendations claiming that it ‘pampered’ Muslims,16 it also termed the report and the resultant policy interven­ tion an act of ‘communalizing the development processes’ (Hansen: 2007).17 As a long-term measure, in the place of reservation, the Sachar Committee rec­ ommended a Diversity Index – to ensure equal opportunity to ‘all socio-religious groups in the areas of education, government, private employment and housing’ (SCR, p.  242) and Equal Opportunity Commission (EOC) to look into ‘the grievances of the deprived groups’ (ibid., p.  240). Following the recommenda­ tions, UPA II formed two bodies in August 2007: the committee to formulate diversity index under Amitabh Kundu (Kundu 2008)18 and an Equal Opportu­ nity Commission under N. R. Madhav Menon.19 While the Sachar Committee evaluated the socio-economic condition of Muslims, the commission on diversity

36

Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

index was set out to measure diversity in education and employment to opera­ tionalize the Sachar Committee recommendations. Both entities submitted their reports in June  2008 and February  2008 respectively. They concluded that the progress made on specific recommendations of these committees was minimal. For instance, UPA II (2009–2014) increased scholarships and other education­ centred incentives. Some argued that these three committees – the SCR, Diver­ sity Index by Kundu, and the EOC – marked a paradigmatic shift in addressing the question of equality in India as it aimed to move beyond the fixed quota-based reservation (Hasan 2009).20

The Post-Sachar Evaluation Committee Subsequently, the UPA II appointed another committee under Amitabh Kundu to evaluate the implementation of Sachar Committee recommendations in September in 2013. The committee presented its report to Dr Najma Heptullah, the Union Minister for Minority Affairs in the Modi-led government, in October 2014. It observed that policy interventions were not adequate given the magnitude of dep­ rivation among Muslims. The committee further observed that the financial resources allocated were nei­ ther sufficient in relation to the deprivation of the Muslims, nor fully utilized to the stated objectives. It pointed out that: a) the design and implementation structures of the programmes had often not targeted the minority settlements directly and effectively; b) the institutional structures designed to implement these initiatives had not been adequate and strong in terms of personnel, mandate, training, and support; c) the demand side had been weak as civil society, and NGOs had not been able to come up or appropriately incentivized to work in partnership with government towards actively fostering confidence and leadership among minority citizens at the local level (Kundu 2014.21 The committee also suggested that a subplan akin to the Scheduled Caste Sub-Plan (SC-SP) be put in place where budget­ ary outlays are made in proportion to the share of the Muslim population in the country. The committee’s report is under consideration since then. It has neither been rejected nor taken into serious consideration.22

Ranganath Misra Commission The Ranganath Misra Commission was constituted by UPA I  government in October 2004 to identify the criteria for socially and economically backward classes among the religious and linguistic minorities and to suggest welfare measures for minorities. The committee submitted its report in May 2007. It made two significant recommendations among others: all castes groups, which are part of the SCs and the OBCs within the Hindu fold, should also be regarded as backward in the Muslim and Christian communities, thereby deserving reserva­ tions under the present scheme of things.23 Moreover, the committee also said that denying reservations to Dalit Muslims and Dalit Christians under the SC quota was

Post-Sachar Indian Muslims

37

unconstitutional and against fundamental rights. The commission highlighted the SC order of 1950, which denies reservation for Dalit Muslims and Christians, as inconsistent with Articles 14, 15, 16, and 25 of the Constitution.24 In the case of the OBC Muslims, the commission also recommended 6% internal quota for them within the OBC quota of 27%. As stated in the earlier section, south Indian states offer Dalits and OBC Muslims reservation under OBCs quota (see Appendix I). The committee also recommended a 15% reservation in all government jobs for all minorities and, within these 15%, 10% should be for Muslims.25 Additionally, it also recommended that at least 15% seats in all nonminority educational institu­ tions should be earmarked for the minorities and, within these 15%, 10% should be for Muslims.26 While no action has been taken on the report, the BJP opposed it and called it anti-national and anti-Hindu.27

Group Equality to Area Development: Modi’s Style of Empowerment Since 2014, policy interventions have taken a different turn.28 The group-specific interventions suggested by earlier expert commissions were discarded and dismissed in the name of ‘minority appeasement’, and the BJP claimed to be a party that would usher in development sans appeasement.29 Following this trend, NITI Aayog, which was created by the BJP government to replace the Planning Commission, moved from the community-oriented pref­ erential policies to area-based development. It has released a ranking of 101 most underdeveloped districts in the country. Eleven of the top 20 most underdeveloped districts in the ranking are Muslim-concentrated districts. Among them, Mewat, a Muslim-dominated district, not far away from the national capital, is the country’s most backward district. The government of the day claims to improve the condi­ tion of Muslims by developing these districts. However, what is significant in the post-2014 development landscape is the way the informal sector – where Muslims are overrepresented – has been affected by certain decisions, like demonetization and the inadequately planned implementa­ tion of Goods and Service Tax (GST) regime. Although we do not have data cap­ turing these effects on Muslims alone, we can infer the magnitude of the impact from the quantum of participation of Muslims in the informal sector. Furthermore, the state governments led by the BJP have begun to scrap positive-discrimination measures meant to aid Muslims.30 Additionally, one can argue that the imposition on cow slaughter with a legislation making the sale and possession of beef a crime punishable by a fine and up to five years in jail has further impoverished Muslims who were running slaughter houses and who specialized in leather work. Not only the ban on cow slaughter adversely impacted livelihoods of Muslims in informal sector, the vigilantism led by the Hindu activists, with the tacit support of the state, has also deterred the mobility of Muslim youth from small towns to cities. Such deterrence of mobility has serious implications on their entry into education and job market as we have demonstrated in Part 1.

38

Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

Regional Variations While there has been a broad trend of marginalization, a section of Muslims has indeed gained. It includes the ones who could enter into modern education at an early stage and who then were able to reap the benefits thrown open by the eco­ nomic liberalization. However, two trends can be broadly noticed: like OBCs and SCs, a section of Muslims has entered into higher education and then the modern sector through reservations. While some Muslims who were part of the OBCs have followed this trajectory thanks to the post-Mandal national quota, this trend is more applicable to Southern Muslims. Thanks to the century-old anti-caste moments in south India, Dalit and OBC Muslims enjoy reservations under the OBC quota in many Dravidian states. In Kerala, Muslims get 12% reservations in jobs and 9% in professional colleges. In Karnataka, they get 4% in education and jobs. In Andhra Pradesh, Muslims get 4% reservation in educational institutions and government jobs. Recently, the Telangana state government has passed a bill to raise the quota for OBC Muslims to 12%. In Tamil Nadu, Muslims have been in the OBC list since the inception of reservation, and in 2007 they have been allocated an exclusive 3% within the OBC quota. The other trend concerns northern Muslims who do not fall under reservation programmes. For them, the route of mobility has been through private colleges. Case studies and newspaper reports bear testimonies of the magnitude of this devel­ opment.31 Since 1990s, a section of Muslims in north India took education as a route of mobility, could find a place in the formal economy, and acquire middle class status. Eastern Muslims tend to follow the route of south India by getting into affirma­ tive action through the post-Mandal quota.32 That said, given the shrinking space in public education, it is unlikely to yield the effect that their southern counterpart had achieved.

Conclusion The socio-economic condition of Muslims in India has worsened over time. Their conditions in most of the socio-economic indicators were lower than that of Hin­ dus, including the Hindu OBCs but slightly above the Dalits in 2005. The situa­ tion further deteriorated in the last decade between 2005 and 2012. Though we do not have enough consistent data to capture the trend in post-2012 period, the recent NSS data does show the acceleration in marginalization of Muslims, par­ ticularly of its youth since 2014 (Khan 2020).33 In the way of summing up, in the post-2012 period, particularly after 2014, there was no progressive and decisive policy push to change the conditions that prevailed till 2012. We have made this argument on the basis of two sets of reasons. First, the policy intervention towards improving the condition of Muslims till 2014 was very limited. The post-Sachar Evaluation Committee observed that the allocated resources were neither sufficient nor fully utilized, given the deprivations of Muslims thereby backing the claim.

Post-Sachar Indian Muslims

39

Second, this was exacerbated with many state governments quickly scrapping positive-discrimination measures meant to aid Muslims after 2014. In the post­ 2014 period, communal developments (including vigilantes’ violence against Mus­ lims) and policy interventions such as demonetization and GST adversely affected Muslims, as they are disproportionally concentrated in the informal economy. The most alarming aspect is the worsening situation of the Muslim youth in formal education vis-à-vis other social groups. Communal elements like Gau Rak­ shaks, campaigns like Love Jihad and Ghar Wapsi, and specious laws like the one criminalizing Triple Talaq have broken the moral status of Muslims; the politics of lynching has deterred the mobility of Muslim youth. In other words, barring a few communally less charged regions with affirmative action like the south of India, the Muslims in the country are largely characterized by dampened aspirations and a bleak tomorrow.

Appendix I URBANIZATION FOR SOCIO-RELIGIOUS GROUPS

North

East

West South

 

 

Brahmins

Upper Castes

OBCs

SCs

Hindus

Muslims

Haryana Rajasthan Uttar Pradesh Madhya Pradesh Assam West Bengal Bihar Gujarat Maharashtra Andhra Pradesh Karnataka Kerala Tamil Nadu All India

42.7 37.0 22.9 24.4 36.3 63.0 14.2 59.9 76.3 57.1 52.6 73.6 87.3 38.0

29.1 32.7 28.8 36.2 27.8 57.7 9.6 46.3 49.6 29.3 31.2 34.4 14.8 39.4

28.2 19.3 11.7 20.9 36.3 28.6 12.3 33.8 37.9 29.6 31.0 52.5 50.5 26.9

10.7 16.4 15.5 28.5 25.0 22.8 7.3 47.0 50.3 20.1 26.6 43.1 39.9 25.5

24.6 20.6 15.9 22.4 22.0 34.9 10.8 36.7 42.8 26.4 29.5 46.7 45.0 27.9

37.4 54.8 44.9 86.8 7.6 17.8 30.0 60.3 77.8 44.4 52.4 66.1 98.1 42.5

Notes 1 The authors are grateful to the Henry Luce Foundation, which has made their research possible in the framework of the ‘Indian Muslims Today’ project that the Foundation is sponsoring. 2 The report says that while both Muslims and Dalits face disadvantage vis-à-vis other social groups, Dalits seem to have better educational mobility than Muslims. Social, Economic, and Educational Status of Muslim Community in India: A Report, Government of India, 2006, p. 95. www.minorityaffairs.gov.in/sites/default/files/sachar_comm.pdf 3 Amitabh Kundu, Report of the ‘Post Sachar Evaluation Committee’ Submitted to the Ministry of Minority Affairs, Government of India, New Delhi, October 2014, p. 167. 4 Ibid, p. 167.

40

Christophe Jaffrelot and Kalaiyarasan A.

5 For other dimensions, including the decline of Muslims in terms of political representa­ tion, see C. Jaffrelot, “A de facto ethnic democracy? The obliteration and targeting of the other, Hindu vigilantes and the making of an ethno-state”, in C. Jaffrelot, Angana Chatterjee and Thomas Blom Hansen (eds), Majoritarian State: How Hindu Nationalism Is Changing India, London, Hurst; New York, OUP and Delhi, HarperCollins, 2019, pp. 41–68. 6 Since we don’t have consistent data since 2005, we use here the NSSO-2012 and Peri­ odic Labour Force Survey (PLFS) 2018 to map the changing education pattern of Mus­ lim youth since 2012. 7 The Indian Human Development Survey (IHDS) was done by the National Coun­ cil of Applied Economic Research (NCAER) in collaboration with the University of Maryland. This paper uses the both rounds, that is, the IHDS I done in 2004–05 and IHDS II done in 2011–12. It is a nationally representative, multi-topic survey of 42,152 households done in 1.503 villages and 971 urban neighbourhoods across India. IHDS­ II reinterviewed about 83% of the IHDS-I households plus any split households that resided in the same community. 8 The sample is identical for 2004–05. However, a small percentage of households which got split (ex. a family becoming into two after marriage, fragmented for other reasons) in 2011–12 are not available for 2004–05. Yet, the parental households are retained. The actual sample of HHs available for all India in 2004–05 is 34,643. 9 While it is true that considerable differences, as reported in the Sachar Committee, exist among Muslims in social terms, including caste divisions, they are not as severe as com­ pared to their Hindu counterparts. 10 This NSSO quinquennial survey was suppressed by the central government till the national general election results were out in May 2019. It was released only in June 2019, probably because it showed a spike in the unemployment rate to over 6%, a 45-year high and dismal records in job creation. 11 The recent study by Sam Asher et al. (2018) shows that upward educational mobility of SCs is exactly offset by the fall of Muslims in India while Hindu Upper castes and OBCs remain constant. Asher, Sam, Paul Novosad, and Charlie Rafkin. 2018. “Inter­ generational Mobility in India: Estimates from New Methods and Administrative Data.” Available at anr-india-mobility.pdf (paulnovosad.com), Last accessed on November 12, 2022. 12 The committee was the follow up of the minority commission established in 1978. When Indira Gandhi assumed power in 1980, she replaced the commission with com­ mittee under the chairmanship of Dr  V.A. Syed Mohammad. Later, Dr  Gopal Singh (parliamentarian and a noted diplomat) took over the chairmanship with Khurshid Alam Khan as the secretary and submitted its report in 1983. 13 Venkitesh Ramakrishnan, Community on the margins, Volume 23 – Issue 24: Dec. 02–15, 2006 www.frontline.in/static/html/fl2324/stories/20061215004700400.htm 14 Social, Economic, and Educational Status of Muslim Community in India: A Report, Government of India, 2006. www.minorityaffairs.gov.in/sites/default/files/sachar_ comm.pdf 15 For her interview, see www.youtube.com/watch?v=-V7Xeyrkq7M 16 Laurent Gayer and Christophe Jaffrelot (eds), Muslims in Indian Cities: Trajectories of Mar­ ginalisation, London, Hurst, 2011, p. 4. 17 Thomas Hansen, ‘The India That Does Not Shine’, ISIM Review, International Institute for the Study of Islam in the Modern World (Leiden), 19, Spring 2007. 18 Amitabh Kundu, Report of the Expert Group on Diversity Index, Submitted to the Ministry of Minority Affairs, Government of India, New Delhi, 2008. 19 The committee was asked to examine and determine the structure of an equal oppor­ tunity commission to ensure the full equality of opportunities for SCs, STs, OBCs and religious minorities. See Madhava Menon, Equal Opportunity Commission: What, Why and How? Report Submitted to the Ministry of Minority Affairs, Government of India, New Delhi, 2008.

Post-Sachar Indian Muslims

41

20 Zoya Hasan, “Muslim deprivation and the debate on equality”, No. 602, 2009, IndianSeminar. www.india-seminar.com/2009/602/602_zoya_hasan.htm 21 Amitabh Kundu, The Report of ‘Post Sachar Evaluation Committee’ Submitted to the Minis­ try of Minority Affairs, Government of India, October 2014. https://drive.google.com/ file/d/0B9LZb7YlBSHbME1HS05sRWxRNkE/view 22 A circular date on March 3, 2015, says that the recommendations were examined and sent to the all concerned ministries/departments. The response is awaited. http://pib. nic.in/newsite/PrintRelease.aspx?relid=116357 23 The Report of the National Commission for Religious and Linguistic Minorities, p. 149 (16.1.6), The report is available at www.minorityaffairs.gov.in/sites/upload_files/ moma/files/pdfs/volume-1.pdf. (accessed on 29.06.2020). 24 The order provided 5% reservations for STs and 12.5% for SCs but excluded Dalit Mus­ lims and Dalit Christians in 1950. These reservations were increased to 7.5% for STs and 15% for SCs in the 1970s. 25 p. 153, para. 16.2.16 of the report. The full text of the Report of the National Com­ mission for Religious and Linguistic Minorities (Ranganath Misra Commission Report) Vols. I  is available at www.minorityaffairs.gov.in/sites/upload_files/moma/files/pdfs/ volume-1.pdf. 26 Ibid, p. 150 (16.2.7). 27 Shaikh Aziz ur Rahman, The National, January 21, 2010. www.thenational.ae/world/asia/ hindu-fundamentalists-to-oppose-job-quota-proposals-1.543198?videoId=5587173110001 28 Tanweer Fazal maps this shift in BusinessLine, June 2, 2014. www.thehindubusinessline. com/opinion/development-leaves-muslims-out/article22995299.ece 29 The Minister of Minority Affairs of BJP termed the aforementioned interventions as ‘only appeasement of minorities and zero empowerment’, so he put forward a shift in policy towards Muslims as ‘empowerment without appeasement’. (www.outlookindia.com/ website/story/there-was-only-appeasement-of-minorities-and-zero-empowerment-in­ last-60-years-n/306060). 30 After the BJP secured influence over the state in 2014, in Maharashtra, the state gov­ ernment quickly scrapped positive-discrimination measures meant to aid Muslims. See Christophe Jaffrelot, “India’s democracy at 70: Toward a Hindu state?”, Journal of Democ­ racy, Volume 28, Number 3, July 2017, pp. 52–63. Furthermore, the coalition govern­ ment led by the Shiv Sena with the support of Congress and Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) that assumed power in November 2019 has also refused to bring back the ordinance akin to the one brought in July 2014 that gave 5% reservation to Muslims. 31 These studies provide insights on how Muslim youth from small towns in northern India attained education and achieved the status of middle class by joining salaried class in urban formal labour market. For details, see www.livemint.com/politics/news/ joining-the-india-story-rise-of-the-muslim-middle-1548262657277.html 32 For historical reasons, Muslims belong to rural and lower castes in Bengal. While they were not initially in the reservation list very long time, the Left began including them in the OBCs list in its fading time. When Mamata Banerjee assumed power, she included about 37 Muslims castes into the OBCs by raising the reservation for OBCs from 7% to 17%. Now, the West Bengal Government claims to have included about 87% of the Muslim population under OBC category. 33 Khan (2020) observes that citizenship Amendment Act (CAA), abrogation of article 370, laying foundation for Ram Mandir in Ayodhya, arrests of many Muslims in the aftermath of anti-CAA protest mark a further shift from marginalization to outright exclusion. Ali Khan, “Manufacturing conflict: Indian Muslims and the shift from mar­ ginalisation to exclusion”, in Maya Mirchandani (ed.), Tackling Insurgent Ideologies in a Pandemic World, New Delhi, Observer Research Foundation, 2020.

2 ISLAM, DEVELOPMENT AND GLOBALIZATION Transformation of a Traditionalist Muslim Group in Kerala M. S. Visakh and R. Santhosh

Introduction It is widely accepted among the scholars that religion, contrary to the Weberian thesis of secularization, continues to play a significant role in the worldly affairs of the contemporary society. The salience of religion in contemporary society has rekindled academic interest in the theological as well as ethical orientations of dif­ ferent religious traditions and their implications on the conceptions and practices of development. The dawn of neoliberal era has been identified as a particularly con­ ducive phase for the strengthening nexus between religion and development. The globalizing world order has radically transformed the relationship between state and civil society where religion emerges as a prominent player within developmental discourses through civil society activism and production of neoliberal religious sub­ jects (Benthall and Bellion-Jourdan, 2003; Bayat, 2007; Marshall, 2011; Ter Haar, 2011). One observes religious actors actively engaging with development process through private entrepreneurship in areas related to social development such as education and health that were conventionally the domains of the state. This revi­ talized role of religion with respect to developmental activities raise interesting questions about its ever-transforming theological as well as organizational nature in a globalizing world. Implicit in these concerns is the relationship between religion and economy, which has been one of the classical sociological themes ever since the publication of Max Weber’s Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism (Weber et al., 1905/1965). He explored how certain ethical dispositions central to Protestantism were con­ ducive to the emergence of capitalism, as it developed in the modern West. The classical sociological concern found in Weber over the relationship between reli­ gious ethics and patterns of economic development provides critical insights into contemporary forms of religious revival across the globe. This finds particularly DOI: 10.4324/9781003280309-4

Development and Globalization

43

echoed in the recent studies on Islam in a globalizing age, which contests the popu­ lar assumptions of the relationship between Islam and capitalism as incompatible, antagonistic, or inimical. Instead, these studies emphasize how Islam and capital­ ism transform each other and entail the production of new religious subjectivities (Hefner, 2006; Singer, 2008; Osella and Osella, 2009, 2011; Rudnyckyj, 2009a, 2009b, 2010, 2016; Atia, 2012, 2013). In this chapter, we examine how a tradi­ tionalist Muslim group in Kerala, regionally referred to as the AP Sunnis, creatively engages with the imperatives of neoliberal globalization to address the question of development. Muslims in Kerala, with the exception of a miniscule percentage of Shias, belong to the Sunni denomination and follow the Shaf ’i madhab. However, the term Sunni has assumed a distinct connotation both in popular discourses and self-perception of Kerala Muslims as the harbingers of traditionalist Islam against the Salafi-inspired reformist sects widely known as Mujahids.1 The term ‘traditionalist’ or ‘tradition­ alism’, as S.N. Eisenstadt (1973) observes, is not to be equated with a simple or natural conservation of a given tradition. Instead, it refers to ‘an ideological mode and stance oriented against the new symbols; it espouses certain parts of the older tradition as the only legitimate symbols of the traditional order and upholds them against “new” trends’ (p. 22). The category of traditionalist Islam gained prominence in Kerala with the emer­ gence of Islamic reformist organizations such as Muslim Aikya Sangham in 1922. The reformist leaders – deriving inspiration from various Salafi strands in Egypt and Saudi Arabia – launched a scathing affront against the vast majority of Mus­ lims in Kerala, accusing them of subscribing to erroneous theological beliefs and practicing ‘un-Islamic’ customs and rituals. Islamic reformism attained organized form with the establishment of Kerala Nadwathul Mujahideen (KNM) in 1950, which presented an alternative version of Islam congruent with the sensibilities and dispositions of modernity. The reformist/modernist understanding of Islam offered a comprehensive alternative to the socio-cultural and theological orientations of Muslim life in Kerala. It included privileging of ijtihad (independent reasoning) as opposed to taqlid (conformity to legal precedents and traditional behaviour), a scathing attack on practices of Prophetic love such as mala, mawlud, burdha (devo­ tional performative genres), assertion of towhid (monotheism) and rejection of all intermediaries (tawassul ijthihasa) and their shrines, rejection of madhabs (estab­ lished schools of Islamic law), and insistence on learning Islam from the source texts such as the Quran and established Hadiths. Labelling the socio-religious life world of the vast majority of Kerala Muslims as ‘un-islamic’, the reformists argu­ ably adopted a modern approach to faith and facilitated progressive initiatives like translation of Quran into Malayalam, women’s entry to mosques, and promoting secular education. As scholars have argued, Mujahid projects of self-making in 20th-century Kerala thus constituted an index of ‘particular mode of engagement with the modern, leading to interrogations of orthopraxy and arousing anxiety over association with practices deemed “backward” and un-modern’ (Osella and Osella, 2008, p. 325).

44

M. S. Visakh and R. Santhosh

They point out that the reformist movement succeeded in integrating Islamic modernism with an evolving Malayali modernity associated with more general ideas about progress through notions of enlightenment, education, and rational­ ity. The reformists favoured standardized Malayalam language as opposed to Arabi Malayalam, traditionally used by the Kerala Muslims, and were also in the forefront of Malayalam literary, theatre, and film initiatives. Deeply embedded in the wider currents of social reform in the region and largely shaped by colonial discourse on modernity, Islamic reformism acquired wider significance as constituting ‘the modern outlook of the Muslim middle classes and as normatized part of a dis­ tinctively “progressive” Malayali identity’ (Osella and Osella, 2008, p. 338). These reformist initiatives, along with stringent theological criticism against the ‘un­ islamic’ practices in Kerala, produced the discursive categories of reformists and traditionalists. The traditionalist tag, while indicating distinct theological dispositions and ori­ entations, was also widely perceived as representing the Islam of a ‘non-modern’ other in the discourses of Islamic reformism and social progress in Kerala. As a religious sect that showed considerable reluctance to embrace several mark­ ers of colonial modernity during the 20th century – both ideological as well as material – the traditionalist Sunni Muslim identity was widely perceived to be incompatible with modernity. The reformist narratives attributed the social backwardness of Sunnis to their theological and religious dispositions that erred significantly from ‘true Islam.’ The socio-cultural practices and theological orien­ tations of Sunnis were seen as obscurantist, regressive, and steeped in ignorance that required urgent reformulations in the modern world. Traditionalist Islam in Kerala thus came to be identified not only as the other of Salafi reformism but modernity itself as well. The organized counter narrative against Salafi reformism dates back to the establishment of Samastha Kerala Jamiyathul Ulama (henceforth Samastha) in 1926, the most powerful traditionalist Sunni Muslim organization in Kerala. The tradi­ tionalist critiques for many decades were often confined to countering the reform­ ist onslaught through a scriptural defence of the ‘traditional’ belief systems and practices. However, beginning with the 1980s, the Sunnis charted a new course of assertive Islamic traditionalism characterized by their entry to ‘integrated educa­ tion’ (a combination of Islamic and secular education), novel intellectual critiques of Salafi reformism and strengthened organizational structure. Ancillary organiza­ tions for students, youth, and ulama were floated that significantly enhanced the organizational outreach of Samastha. The traditionalists established several institu­ tions of higher religious studies in Kerala including modern Islamic universities for advanced religious learning. These changes were heavily influenced by the material upliftment of the community achieved through large-scale migration to the Gulf countries as well as the religious and cultural linkages established with them since the last four decades. Such modern transformations have prompted scholars to observe that there has been a certain degree of acceptance of reformist ideals within the community and constitute their modern social life (Osella and Osella, 2008;

Development and Globalization

45

Santhosh, 2013). The traditionalists were compelled to re-examine several of their customs and rituals that appeared in conflict with reformist claims of ‘true Islam’. In this process, AP Sunnis have emerged as a new traditionalist Muslim group among the traditionalist Muslims in Kerala through bold forays into various devel­ opmental initiatives in the state by combining a particular form of Islamic piety with the demands of a neoliberal economy. The group derived the name from its leader Kanthapuram AP Aboobacker Musliyar (b. 1931) who emerged as the leader of a new group of Sunni Muslims who ‘broke away’ from the parent organization, citing Samastha’s alleged deviation from its traditionalist Islamic path. Named after him, the AP Sunnis now stand in opposition to the ‘official’ section referred to as EK Sunnis who derive the tag from E.K. Aboobacker Musliyar (1914–1996), the general secretary of Samastha during the time of split. With the student, youth, and educational organizations previously under Samastha’s fold joining either side of the split, these grew into independent organizations claiming to represent ‘tra­ ditional’ Islam of Ahlu Sunnah Wal-Jama’a. The AP Sunni group has been par­ ticularly successful in creating an ulama class of ‘turbaned professionals’, religious scholars who also possess educational degrees in non-religious subjects including professional courses and presented as the embodiment of ‘traditional’ Islamic piety with professional competence. This new-age ulama are particularly noteworthy for the ways in which they combine traditionalist notions of Islamic piety within the discourses and processes of neoliberal developmentalism in the regional context of Kerala.

The Emergence of a New Traditionalist Ulama Class Sunni scholars like Shihabudeen Ahmed Koya Shaliyathi (1885–1954), Varakkal Mullakoya Thangal (d. 1932), Pangil Ahmed Kutty Musliyar (d. 1946), and Abdur Rahman Bafaqi Thangal (1906–1973) provided spiritual and organizational lead­ ership to the traditionalists in the initial years and tried to spread their message primarily through public meetings and engaging in theological debates (Menon, 2018). Samastha claims to have organized 15 annual conferences between 1927 and 1944, focusing on ‘places where the new ideologists had received big attrac­ tion and directed the masses to be aware of the leaders and followers of Bida’i sects’ (Samastha Kerala Islam Matha Vidyabhyasa Board, 2014, p. 9). There were organ­ ized attempts across the state to systematically counter the reformist propaganda and socially isolate the reformist leaders. While both the groups used the term ‘unIslamic’ and bidah to refer to each other’s approach to faith, the traditionalist Sunnis could convince the vast majority of its followers that the novel ideas brought forth by the Mujahids were unfounded innovations aimed at discrediting the ‘traditional’ form of Islam as it existed in Kerala. This period is generally considered to be ‘defensive’ as the organization was primarily invested in warding off the reformist criticism without conceding any innovations in the traditional modes of religious education (Panangangara, 2011). Primary religious education continued to be asso­ ciated with othupallis attached to mosques where children learned basic religious

46

M. S. Visakh and R. Santhosh

doctrines, rites, and rituals as well as elementary skills to read Arabic letters and Quran recitation. Dars under respected ulama served as centres of advanced reli­ gious learning for adults. The absence of institutions for higher religious education forced many to leave Kerala and join places like Baqiyat Salihat Arabic College in Vellore, Tamil Nadu, and Darul Uloom Deoband in Uttar Pradesh. The 1950–1970 period saw Samastha expanding its organizational outreach among Sunnis through high levels of bureaucratization; formation of sub organiza­ tions like Samastha Kerala Matha Vidyabhyasa Board (Islamic Educational Board, abbreviated as SKMVB, formed in 1951), Sunni Yuvajana Sangam (SYS, youth organization formed in 1954), Sunni Students’ Federation (SSF, formed in 1973) Sunni Mahallu Federation (SMF, formed in 1976); and starting publications like Sunni Times (1964) under its fold. This was a period when Samastha began aggres­ sive expansion of organizations and initiated more forceful attempts to refute the reformist endeavours. However, the reformists had by then set up several institu­ tions of higher education, and a huge number of Muslims, especially the Salafi sympathizers from the upper classes of the community, made use of these oppor­ tunities to gainful employment and resultant social mobility. As a consequence, the modernization of religious education became one of the central agendas for the traditionalists during this period in a modernizing Kerala, as evident in the estab­ lishment of modern madrasas and Arabic colleges. Madrasa system was established as a viable (and modern) alternative to Othupallis, which were fast transforming into schools under the colonial rule that made secular education compulsory in them in the aftermath of Malabar rebellion of 1921. At the sixteenth annual con­ ference of Samastha held at Karyavattam in 1945, Sayyid Abdur Rahman Bafaqi Thangal drew attention to the importance of setting up madrasas across the state and suggested the leaders to prepare a syllabus that could be taught along with regular schooling for up to at least ten years. Following the government order banning religious education in public schools, SKMVB was formed on March  1951 at the nineteenth annual conference of Samastha held at Vadakara, and it currently coordinates the activities of more than 9,000 madrasas across the state (Samastha Kerala Jamiyyathul Ulama, 1985). The madrasas started teaching Arabic language and also rescheduled their work­ ing hours in order to facilitate secular education practical for Muslim children. The establishment of madrasa system as a viable alternative for pursuing religious education can be seen as the result of a creative engagement with emerging sec­ ular imperatives of the postcolonial Indian state and structural predicaments of modernity. For those who studying in dars after the necessary madarsa educa­ tion, Samastha established Arabic colleges like Jamia Nooriya Arabbiya, Pattikkad (established 1964) for pursuing higher religious learning. Hence, the establish­ ment of Arabic colleges spatially reconfigured the place of advanced religious learning away from mosque with considerable reforms in pedagogy, syllabus, and examination pattern. The 1980s witnessed a significant change in the organizational character and activ­ ities of the traditionalist Sunnis. From a defensive mode, the organization gradually

Development and Globalization

47

shifted to an assertive form of identity articulations through renewed theologi­ cal engagements and organizational activities. The large-scale migration to the Gulf countries facilitated heightened connections with the gulf world in terms of economic, intellectual, and cultural relations played a significant role in this. Various processes of modernization and overall socio-economic mobility of Sun­ nis in the 1980s were accompanied by the introduction of ‘integrated education’ system (matha –bhauthika samanwaya vidyabhyasam) that combined religious and secular education; Katameri Rahmanniya Arabic College under the leadership of M.M. Basheer Musliyar (1929–1987) became the first Sunni institution to alter the curriculum to provide space for ‘integrated education’. However, such attempts towards ‘integrated education’ were rather unsuccessful until the estab­ lishment of Darul Huda Islamic Academy in Chemmad, Malappuram, which was formally upgraded to a University (hereafter Darul Huda) in May 2009. Currently a member of the Federation of the Universities of the Islamic World, Darul Huda was envisaged as an educational movement that combines religious and modern secular education without compromising the ‘traditional’ religious sensibilities. Learning secular subjects in these traditionalist religious educational institutions came to be seen as part of the divine mission in the Islamization of knowledge and essential part of dawat. The university currently runs a 12-year course that includes subjects like Mathematics, Science and Technology, English, Urdu, and Malay­ alam along with studies on Quran, Hadith, Fiqh, Tasawwuf, etc. To be awarded the ‘Hudawi’ title at the end of the program, the students are required to complete a bachelor’s degree in humanities or social sciences from a public university. An ISO 9001:2015 certified institute of higher education, Darul Huda has been rec­ ognized by international Islamic universities like Al-Azhar University in Cairo, Egypt, and has signed MoUs with International Islamic University, Malaysia; Tripol University, Libya; Omduranan Islamic University, Sudan; Alzaiem Alzahri University, Khartoum; Al Musthafa International University, Iran; Kuwait Uni­ versity, Ez-zitouna University, Tunisia among others. Such attempts have gradu­ ally prompted several religious educational institutions like Jamia Nooria Pattikad, Jamia Markaz Ssaqaffath Sunniya, and others to adopt the ‘integrated education’ pattern in the last three decades, leading to large-scale modernization and educa­ tional upliftment of Sunnis. As the foregoing narrative of educational modernization among the tradi­ tionalists suggests, the renewed self-respect and dignified status attributed to the Sunni ulama need to be seen in the context of increasing ‘professionalization’ of religious education and their entry into fields hitherto marked as ‘secular’ and hence forbidden. One of the most significant characteristics of this period is the emergence of new intellectual critiques of Salafi reform led by this ulama class with expertise in both religious and secular education (Visakh et al., 2021). This new traditionalist ulama class, we argue, are instrumental in simultaneously providing powerful legitimation to the ‘traditional’ Islamic piety and grounding it within the discourses and process of neoliberal developmentalism. We argue that understanding such spaces of compatibility between notions of traditionalist

48

M. S. Visakh and R. Santhosh

Islamic piety and neoliberal developmentalism is necessary to make sense of the social mobility of Muslims in Kerala.

The Case of Markaz Knowledge City To further illustrate the link between religion and development in the emerging traditionalist Muslim identity articulations, we take the case of Markaz Knowledge City, one of the most ambitious development projects in the state initiated by the Kanthapuram-led AP Sunni group in Kozhikode, northern Kerala. Envisaged as a 100-acre integrated township for ‘learning, living and leisure’ that promises a complete lifestyle solution, Markaz Knowledge City proposes to house the largest mosque in India – named Shaar-i-Mubarak Grand Masjid – along with other facili­ ties variously categorized into education, health, career, commercial, and residen­ tial. Located at Kaithapoyil in the Kozhikode district of Kerala, Markaz Knowledge City promises a ‘breathtaking scenic view’ owing to its close proximity to Wayanad, one of the finest tourist destinations in the country. The educational zone com­ prises an international school, a special school for differently abled children as well as institutions of higher studies in technology, law, business, and management. The official website of the Knowledge City says: [O]ver the past few decades, the global economy has shifted from being manufacturing centric to a knowledge-driven one. This is an era of pri­ vatization and globalization of Indian higher education, the second larg­ est higher education system in the world. India produces the second largest annual output of scientists and engineers in the world. Success in leveraging knowledge and innovation that could contribute to hitech manufacturing and high value-added services is only possible with a sound infrastructure of higher education. The Markaz Knowledge City campus is a self-sustained educational hub providing world class education from pre-school level to post graduate courses. (Markaz Knowledge City, n.d.-c) Markaz Knowledge City also features a Sharia City and Cultural Centre well equipped with an ‘Islamic museum, research and academic library, digital semi­ nar hall, historical hub, students study home, cultural theater, prayer halls, lecture rooms and parking’ that ‘facilitates Islamic teachings based on Quran and relevant Hadith adhering to logics, reason and scientific facts’ (Markaz Knowledge City, n.d.-c). The health zone has a multi-specialty hospital, a Unani medical college and hospital as well as an Ayurvedic health care centre whereas the commercial zone consists of an IT park, world-class restaurants, hotels, and convention centres. Finally, the residential zone is home to 750 residential units providing more than 40 state-of-the-art facilities to the residents and a retirement village, guarantee­ ing an ‘opulence lifestyle without compromising customer expectations’ (Markaz Knowledge City, n.d.-a).

Development and Globalization

49

Claimed to promote an Islamic culture and rich heritage of traditional Islam in Kerala, the project is built in collaboration with several leading real estate firms and is widely touted as a major commercial venture in northern Kerala. Landmark builders, a real estate developer based in Calicut, is part of the ‘historic mission to realise the vision “Markaz Knowledge City” of the world renowned scholar sheikh Aboobacker Ahmed, Founder and Chancellor of Jamia Markazu Ssaquafathi Ssuni­ yya, as the platinum partner of the entire development’ (Markaz Knowledge City, n.d.-b). The builders believe that the proximity to Markaz Knowledge City makes the Landmark Village ‘an ideal choice for those seeking the vibrancy of integrated township in the form of elite educational institutions, medical establishments, rec­ reational facilities and 40+ amenities’ (Landmark Builders, n.d). Talenmark, a real estate developer based in Kozhikode that boasts of promoting eco-friendly habitats, is in charge of constructing India’s biggest cultural centre with largest souk of its kind inside the Markaz Knowledge City. The builders claims to merge ‘interna­ tional standards with traditional outlook’ to evoke the memories of the heydays and cope with a fast developing world (Talenmark, n.d.). Aimed to attract the world through architectural beauty and core Islamic values embedded in it, the souk (marketplace in Arabic) is designed as a space where ‘modern business meets tra­ ditional arabic marketplace architecture’ (Talenmark, n.d.). Further, Samana Busi­ ness based in Middle east and Riyadh, which entered into hospitality industry in Kerala recently by opening a chain of business class hotels in Kerala named Appolo Dimora, builds a business class hotel to be located close to the upcoming IT park inside the Knowledge City. Similarly, Markaz has also been engaged in Islamic charity through voluntary organizations like Relief and Charitable Foundation of India (RCFI, established in 2000), which receives fund from international charity organizations like Red Crescent, al-Rahama, and Dubai charity. RCFI now focuses on areas ranging from education, health, rehabilitation, orphan care to women empowerment. One of the RCFI brochures reads: One need not wait for the governmental system to reach aid and assistance to the adversely affected and provide education to the unprivileged. These are now personal responsibilities of each individual, more of business issues and the corporate leaders than the politicians. Relief and Charitable Foundation of India’s (RCFI) ideologies are based on the above principles. (RCFI, n.d.) The traditionalists, as we see in the instances mentioned before, combine discourses of ‘true’ Islamic knowledge and ‘traditional’ Islamic piety with notions of individual entrepreneurship and private financial investment. Religious organizations in this discourse are presented as development providers, and promoting these develop­ ment projects becomes a constituent element of their pious Islamic subjectivity. Characterized by managerial language of self-help and efficiency, the traditional­ ists see such activities as being fundamental to religious self-realization. How do

50

M. S. Visakh and R. Santhosh

we understand such traditionalist reconfiguration of Islamic piety vis-à-vis sociopolitical conditions of neoliberal globalization? Emphasizing the inseparability of economic and religious practice in the pro­ cess of subjectivation/habituation, Osella and Osella (2009, 2011) have explored the relationship between Islamic reformism and contemporary forms of capital accumulation in Kerala. They point to the emergence of a class of Muslim entrepreneurs from Kerala at the forefront of India’s liberalizing economy, keen on adopting labour practices of global capitalism. According to them, globaliza­ tion has entailed the emergence of an economy of morality among Kerala Mus­ lims that binds together the neoliberal and Islamist orientations pertaining to community and individual progress. However, they observe that this involves a ‘generalized distancing from what are locally perceived as “outmoded traditions” in economic and religious practices alike’ (Osella and Osella, 2011, p. 155). It is this context that we find it important to analyse how the new traditional­ ist articulations combine notions of Islamic piety and individual/community progress with values of neoliberal developmentalism, a characteristic feature of globalizing social order. Rather than a mere generalized distancing from out­ moded traditions, the traditionalist articulations as we have seen, revive and carefully incorporate them into the economic rationale of a neoliberal develop­ ment paradigm. Building from Wendy Larner’s (2000) elaboration of neoliberalism as a policy, ideology, and mode of governmentality, Mona Atia (2013) has introduced the con­ cept of ‘pious neoliberalism’ to understand the discursive combination of religion and economic rationale that encourages individuals to be proactive and entrepre­ neurial in the interest of furthering their relationship with God. She conceptualizes pious neoliberalism as (1) a policy that ‘reconfigure religious practices in line with principles of economic rationality, productivity, and privatization’; (2) an ideology that treats these traits as constituent part of being religious and applies economic rationality to religious practices representing a merger of market orientation with faith, and (3) a mode of governmentality that ‘generates self-regulating and ethi­ cal subjects as faith and the market discipline them simultaneously’ (Atia, 2013, p. xvii–xviii). One observes the cultivation of such pious neoliberal subjectivity in the Sunni Muslim traditionalist identity articulations in Kerala, as is evident in their sense of self-assurance and confidence buttressed by bold forays into various platforms pro­ vided by a neoliberal economy. They reiterate excellence in ‘secular’ education and take great pride in promoting huge commercial ventures and skills required for a new global economy such as professionalism, entrepreneurship, and private finan­ cial investment. In the 2015 annual souvenir of the SYS, Kanthapuram describes the Sunni ulama as ‘turbaned professionals’ thus: Now when I  look back, I  feel proud. Sunni has become enthusiastic to the youth. Ulama have taken back the leadership of the community. Edu­ cational institutions stand with their head held high everywhere. Our land

Development and Globalization

51

gets filled with turbaned professionals. I see the divine presence of the tur­ ban in university campuses and research desks. Knowledge has retrieved its brightest colour. (SYS, 2015, p. 12) Such notions of piety articulated by the traditionalists becomes, as Atia (2012) observes, a meeting point of professionalized development industry and reli­ gious revival resulting in the production of a neoliberal Islam that emphasizes on ‘self-optimization and the cultivation of productive and entrepreneurial subjects’ (p.  823). We argue that such articulations of traditionalist Muslim identity need to be situated in the background of the changing developmental trajectory of the state of Kerala.

Islamic Traditionalism and Development The ‘Kerala model’ of development has been widely acclaimed and hailed by many scholars for its unique features and characteristics (Drèze and Sen, 1989; Sen and Drèze, 1992; George, 1993; Tharamangalam, 1998; Parayil and Sreekumar, 2003; Kannan, 2005; Tharamangalam, 2006). The developmental trajectory of the state is particularly marked for significant rise in social development indicators, reduc­ ing levels of social inequalities even while maintaining low economic growth. Even while disavowing its potential to be emulated as a ‘model’, Amartya Sen (1999) has drawn attention to Kerala’s ‘unusual success in raising life expectancy and the quality of life’ and deploys it as a normative example of development pos­ sibilities. Parayil and Sreekumar (2003) has pointed out how Kerala stands out as an example of how one state has fared exceedingly well in social development indicators, on par with ‘developed’ nations, without undergoing militant social revolution or rapid industrialization. Academic debates on the developmental tra­ jectory of Kerala have highlighted the role of public action spearheaded by politi­ cal parties, especially the left, as well as civil society organizations including caste and religious bodies in pressurizing the state in matters related to public welfare (Drèze and Sen, 1989; Jeffrey, 1992). Such a system of ‘support-led security’ as opposed to ‘growth-mediated security’, scholars have argued, was as crucial as the state interventions in ensuring the success of the Kerala development model (Drèze and Sen, 1989; Tharamangalam, 1998, 2006). Thus, the activities of vari­ ous pressure groups including political parties as well as caste and religious associa­ tions significantly shaped Kerala’s political and developmental trajectory (Jeffrey, 1992). Various studies have recognized that the religious/communal organizations claiming to represent the interests of religious and caste groups have always been instrumental in shaping the democratic political culture and developmental trajec­ tory of modern Kerala (Mathew, 1989; Chiriyankandath, 1993, 1996; Devika and Varghese, 2011). However, the neoliberal turn since the 1980s has entailed great transformations in their form and activities. Kerala witnessed the emergence of alternate forms of

52

M. S. Visakh and R. Santhosh

political mobilizations and heightened prominence to civil society organizations during this period (John and Chathukulam, 2002; Devika, 2007). Transformations brought about by democratic decentralization in Kerala during the mid-1990s also facilitated active involvement of civil society organizations in local level planning and administration. J. Devika (2007) observes how the traditional modes of left mobilization led by the communist parties have been systematically undermined by novel forms of mobilization premised on identity politics and civil society activ­ ism. However, the critics of neoliberalism have pointed out that the increased involvement of community is predicated on the withdrawal of the state from vital areas of public goods delivery. They have argued that the community is identified and encouraged as one of the key parties in ensuring welfare and development, and the state recedes from the scene and takes a back seat. The state legitimates these efforts at off-loading because of the warm-hearted associations many make with the term (Mason, 2000; Little, 2002). This shifting of responsibilities is often presented in the language of ‘community empowerment’ that supposedly facili­ tates decision-making as well as execution capacities of the communities involved. Sharma (2006) argues that the neoliberal blurring of the divide between state and non-state realms underscores the need for practices that restore the distinctiveness and authority of the postcolonial Indian state while helping it to shrink both liter­ ally and symbolically. Complicating this picture further, scholars like Neera Chandhoke (2012) has argued that the neoliberal turn in India did not entail the emergence of a minimal­ ist state dictated by the market economy and privatization of hitherto public assets. Instead, the increased presence of religious organizations in developmental activi­ ties happens in the background of what Chandhoke observes as a larger shift in the rhetoric of globalization since late nineties from the language of the market to that of governance, accountability, transparency, democracy, and the indispensability of the state. Various forms of Islamic charity and development activities initiated by traditionalist Muslim religious organizations in Kerala occupy the space of volun­ tary sector, incorporated in large scale as a major agent of social development in the context of these shifts in neoliberal globalization. Several environmental move­ ments, feminist movements, caste, tribal and religious movements, among others, emerged in Kerala during the last few decades of the 20th century. Among these, most important were the religious organizations that entered into the sphere of civil activism in Kerala through volunteering and charity activities since the 1980s, undergoing significant process of secularization (Warrier, 2003; Devika, 2007; San­ thosh, 2015). For instance the involvement of the reformist Mujahid movement in the successful institutionalization of palliative care movement in Kerala has been well documented (Santhosh, 2015). However, it is important to note that far from being interest groups aimed at securing state resources or engaged in volunteering and charity activities, the religious organizations also have emerged as development providers promoting private capital investment for community welfare in an age of neoliberal globalization. We argue that the traditionalist Sunni Muslim engagement with the ideas of progress and development needs to be located in the context of

Development and Globalization

53

these structural changes in globalization whereby religious organizations emerge as development providers in a neoliberal economy. As Jose Casanova (1994) observes, religious organizations in such contexts undergo a processes of ‘deprivatization’ where religion abandons its assigned place in the private sphere and enters the ‘undifferentiated public sphere of civil society to take part in the ongoing process of contestation, discursive legitimation, and redrawing of the boundaries’. Within the normative contours of liberal democracy, religion enters the public sphere either by claiming its own rights as well as general rights of democratic civil society or by questioning the claims of lawful autonomy of secular spheres or claiming to protect the traditional life world from external aggression of the state (Casanova, 1994, p. 58). The emergence of traditionalist Muslim organizations as key development pro­ viders thus needs to be seen in the context of wider decline of secular civil society spaces and the concomitant rise of active forms of religious civil associations in Kerala since the 1990s. The traditionalist Sunni organizations, via their organi­ zational outreach, have been successful in channelizing both the direct financial aid from the Gulf countries received as Islamic charity and the socio-economic upliftment of Muslims achieved through their large-scale migration to the Gulf countries from Kerala towards consolidating the economic foundation of the reli­ gious organizations. This has enabled the traditionalist Sunni Muslim organizations in Kerala to emerge as major development providers, making bold forays into the opportunities provided by neoliberal globalization. We argue that the conditions of globalized modernity have enabled the traditionalist Sunni Muslim organizations to refashion their civil religious activism and engage with the question of progress and development in accordance with neoliberal restructuring of the economy and market orientations of the faith. However, this engagement also evokes severe criticism of traditionalist Islam within the community and Kerala’s public sphere. For instance, the AP Sunnis have been widely criticized for their highly patriarchal positions with several women’s organizations and reformist groups within Kerala Muslims coming out against Kanthapuram for espousing misogynistic views that portray women as inferior to men. On the other hand, the organization deploys their stubborn refusal to address modern discourses on gender equality or women’s participation in public affairs to reiterate their traditionalist credentials. AP Sunni group has also invited severe criti­ cism from other traditionalist Muslim sects such as EK Sunnis for commercializing religion and instrumentally using Islamic faith for business interests. Kanthapuram faced enormous criticism and ridicule when he announced the possession of a lock of ‘holy hair’ of the Prophet as almost every Muslim religious organization in Kerala immediately questioned its authenticity. The proposal to build Shaar-i-Mubarak Grand Masjid costing 400 million Indian rupees inside Markaz Knowledge City to house this ‘holy relic’ was condemned as indulging in extravaganza in the name of religion. The reformist and traditionalist Muslim religious organizations as well as political parties, especially the Left, publicly denounced such a move and accused him of exploiting the believers. They argue that Kanthapuram’s AP Sunni group

54

M. S. Visakh and R. Santhosh

works as nothing but a huge corporate establishment, which uses ‘traditional’ reli­ gious symbols to attract donations, private investments, and running commercial enterprises intended at profit making. While the organization staunchly refutes the allegations of commercialization of religion, it is evident that they are championing the cause of neoliberal devel­ opmentalism in Kerala with a curious mix of religious orthodoxy. Entrepreneurial activities facilitated by mobilizing remittance from the sympathizers of organization in the Gulf and opening up of new institutions – religious, educational as well as business – are seen as testimonies to the community entering into the new arenas of development and also its Independence and material prosperity. These initiatives, realized through various strategies of internal resource mobilization, are simultane­ ously projected as the desirable path towards community development and nation building. Such material advancements, the organization argues, are built on the solid ethical foundation of traditionalist Islam, which ensures that the community is deeply rooted in the ethical and moral foundations of Islam even while making significant progress in the material realm.

Conclusion The transformation of a traditionalist Muslim group, once dubbed as anti-modern and obscurantist into the current stature of a leading player in the neoliberal economy, stands testimony to the enormous ability of religious organizations to adapt to the changing social conditions. This organization, which staunchly opposed the Muslim reformists for their alleged Western and modern influence, had to reinvent themselves under the imperatives of modernity. The larger trans­ formation of Kerala society in terms of educational and economic development compelled the traditionalists to revisit their perceptions about the underlying notions of progress and well-being of the community. The compulsion to institu­ tionalize the integration of religious education with secular education is precisely the result of such a realization. The traditionalists skilfully utilized the financial inflow emerging from Gulf migration to build a strong economic foundation for their religious organization and later expanded it aggressively by making use of the opportunities provided by neoliberal economy. Opening up of new business and entrepreneurial activities along with establishment of commercial ventures provided significant legitimacy to traditionalist Islamic articulations within the community and Kerala’s public sphere. Construction of this moral community led by pious Islamic entrepreneurs is entangled with the economic rationality of neoliberalism and makes it a very interesting episode to understand the emerging articulations of religion in a globalizing world.

Note 1 It is important to note that Jamaat-e-Islami, another organization that claims reformist status in Kerala, shared the central reformist ideas with Mujahids in theological matters while upholding the Maududian argument about the centrality of political Islam.

Development and Globalization

55

References Atia, M. (2012). “A way to paradise”: Pious neoliberalism, Islam, and faith-based develop­ ment, Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 102 (4), 808–827. Atia, M. (2013). Building a house in heaven: Pious neoliberalism and Islamic charity in Egypt. Min­ neapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Bayat, A. (2007). Making Islam democratic. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Benthall, J., & Bellion-Jourdan, J. (2003). The charitable crescent: Politics of aid in the Muslim world. London: B. Tauris. Casanova, J. (1994). Public religions in the modern world. London: The University of Chicago Press. Chandhoke, N. (2012). Globality, state, and collective imagination: The Indian experience. In Brar, B., & Mukherjee, P. (Eds.), Facing globality. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Chiriyankandath, J. (1993). “Communities at the polls”: Electoral politics and the mobiliza­ tion of communal groups in Travancore, Modern Asian Studies, 27 (3), 643–665. Chiriyankandath, J. (1996). Changing Muslim politics in Kerala: Identity, interests and polit­ ical strategies, Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs, 16 (2), 257–271. Devika, J. (2007). Fears of contagion? Depoliticisation and recent conflicts over politics in Kerala, Economic and Political Weekly, 42 (25), 2464–2470. Devika, J., & Varghese, V. J. (2011). To survive or to flourish? Minority rights and Syrian Christian community assertions in twentieth-century Travancore/Kerala, History and Sociology of South Asia, 5 (2), 103–128. Drèze, J., & Sen, A. (1989). Hunger and public action. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Eisenstadt, S. N. (1973). Post-traditional societies and the continuity and reconstruction of tradition, Daedalus, 102 (1), 1–27. George, K. K. (1993). Limits of Kerala model of development. Thiruvananthapuram: Centre for Development Studies. Hefner, R. W. (2006). Islamic economics and global capitalism, Society, 44 (1), 16–22. Jeffrey, R. (1992). Politics, women and well being. Delhi: Oxford University Press. John, M. S., & Chathukulam, J. (2002). Building social capital through state initiative: Par­ ticipatory planning in Kerala, Economic and Political Weekly, 37 (20), 1939–1948. Kannan, K. P. (2005). Kerala’s turnaround in growth: Role of social development, remit­ tances and reform, Economic and Political Weekly, 40 (6), 548–554. Landmark Builders. (n.d.). Retrieved from www.landmarkbuilders.co.in/township/landmark­ village/ [accessed 21 July 2019] Larner, W. (2000). Neo-liberalism: Policy, ideology, governmentality, Studies in Political Economy, 63 (Autumn 2000), 5–25. Little, A. (2002). The politics of community: Theory and practice. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Markaz Knowledge City. (n.d.-a). Apartments. Retrieved fr om http://mkconline.com/ apartments [accessed 21 July 2019]. Markaz Knowledge City. (n.d.-b). Developer. Retrieved fr om http://mkconline.com/ developer [accessed 24 August 2019]. Markaz Knowledge City. (n.d.-c). Education. Retrieved fr om http://mkconline.com/ education [accessed 21 July 2019]. Marshall, C. (2011). Development and faith institutions: Gulfs and bridges. In ter Haar, G. (Ed.), Religion and development: Ways of transforming the world. London: Hurst and Company. Mason, A. (2000). Community, solidarity and belonging: Levels of community and their normative significance. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

56

M. S. Visakh and R. Santhosh

Mathew, G. (1989). Communal road to a secular Kerala. New Delhi: Concept Publishing Company. Menon, N. R. (2018). What do polemics do? Religion, citizenship and secularism in South Indian Islam, History of Religions, 58 (2), 128–164. Osella, F., & Osella, C. (2008). Islamism and social reformism in Kerala, south India, Modern Asian Studies, 42 (2/3), 317–346. Osella, F., & Osella, C. (2009). Muslim entrepreneurs in public life between India and the Gulf: Making good and doing Good, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 15 (1), 202–221. Osella, F.,  & Osella, C. (2011). Migration, neoliberal capitalism, and Islamic reform in Kozhikode (Calicut), south India, International Labor and Working-Class History, 55, 140–160. Panangangara, M. H. (2011). Keraleeya Muslim charithraparisarathil samanwaya vidyab­ hyasam aarjicha idangal. In Matha vidyabhyasam: Kalam, dhesham, samskaram. Chemmad: Darul Huda Islamic University. Parayil, G.,  & Sreekumar, T. T. (2003). Kerala’s experience of development and change, Journal of Contemporary Asia, 33 (4), 465–492. RCFI. (n.d.). Share to care. Retrieved fr om www.rcfi.in/Brochure.pdf [accessed 21 July 2019]. Rudnyckyj, D. (2009a). Spiritual economies: Islam and neoliberalism in contemporary Indonesia, Cultural Anthropology, 24 (1), 104–141. Rudnyckyj, D. (2009b). Market Islam in Indonesia, The Journal of Royal Anthropological Insti­ tute, 15, 183–201. Rudnyckyj, D. (2010). Spiritual economies: Islam, globalization, and the afterlife of development. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Rudnyckyj, D. (2016). Islamizing finance: From magical capitalism to a spiritual economy, Anthropology Today, 32 (6), 8–12. Samastha Kerala Jamiyyathul Ulama. (1985). Samastha arupatham varshika smaranika. Kozhikode: Samastha Kerala Jamiyyathul Ulama. Samastha Kerala Jamiyyathul Ulama. (2014). Samastha: A  brief introduction. Kozhikode: Samastha Kerala Islam Matha Vidyabhyasa Board. Santhosh, R. (2013). Contextualising Islamic contestations: Reformism, traditionalism and modernity among Muslims of Kerala, Indian Anthropologist, 43 (2), 25–42. Santhosh, R. (2015). Islamic activism and palliative care: An analysis from Kerala. In Foun­ tain, P., Bush, R., & Feener, M. R. (Eds.), Religion and politics of development (pp. 83–103). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Sen, A. (1999). Development as freedom. New York: Oxford University Press. Sen, A., & Drèze, J. (1992). India: Economic development and social opportunity. Delhi: Oxford University Press. Sharma, A. (2006). Crossbreeding institutions, breeding struggle: Women’s empowerment, neoliberal governmentality and state (re)formation in India, Cultural Anthropology, 21 (1), 60–95. Singer, A. (2008). Charity in Islamic societies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. SYS. (2015). SYS sixty year souvenir. Kozhikode: IPB Books. Talenmark. (n.d.). The cultural centre in India, Kerala. Retrieved fr om https://talenmark. com/culturalcenter.html [accessed 22 July 2019]. Ter Haar, G. (2011). Religion and development: Introducing a new debate. In ter Haar, G. (Ed.), Religion and development: Ways of transforming the world (pp. 3–25). London: Hurst and Company. Tharamangalam, J. (1998). The perils of social development without economic growth: The development debacle of Kerala, India, Bulletin of Concerned Asian Scholars, 30 (1), 23–34.

Development and Globalization

57

Tharamangalam, J. (2006). Kerala: The paradoxes of public action and development. New Delhi: Orient Longman. Visakh, M. S., Santhosh, R., & Muhammed Roshan, C. K. (2021). Islamic traditionalism in a globalizing world: Sunni Muslim identity in Kerala, south India, Modern Asian Studies, 55 (6), 2046–2087. Warrier, M. (2003). Processes of secularization in contemporary India: Guru faith in the Mata Amritanandamayi Mission, Modern Asian Studies, 37 (1), 213–253. Weber, M., Parsons, T., & Tawney, R. H. (1905/1965). The protestant ethic and the spirit of capitalism. London: Unwin University Books.

3 DEGREES OF DISADVANTAGE

Education as Social Equalizer in India’s Labour Market? Mohd. Sanjeer Alam

Introduction As witnessed in the advanced societies, structural transformation of economy con­ sisting of shifts of employment from agriculture to industry and then to services intensifies demand for educated and skilled manpower. In other words, the ways in which labour markets get constituted and structured in response to economic transformations, educational attainment, or academic credential – often seen as an embodiment of skill, expertise, and competence – become the single most impor­ tant determinant of individuals’ labour market outcomes (Blau and Duncan, 1967; Bell, 1976; Mincer, 1977). As it happens, equally qualified individuals – regardless of their social origin – are likely to get allocated to similar kinds of jobs and thus have equal chance of success in the labour market. Given this relationship between formal education and labour market outcomes, at least theoretically, education is widely seen as social equalizer in the labour market. This line of thinking, though empirically disputed, has led many developing countries to expand the education system – the locus of human capital development – as a strategy to combat social disparities in labour market outcomes and thereby achieve greater economic equal­ ity across the social spectrum. India’s labour market, concomitant with economic restructuring beginning in 1990s, has witnessed marked structural shifts. The key marker of the shifts is con­ sistently declining role of agriculture and rising importance of the service sector in providing employment. There has emerged a large number of opportunities for a variety of high-skill service, managerial and professional jobs, and occupations, especially in the private sector (Päpola and Sahu, 2012). All these have led to a movement of workers from poorer to better jobs; from informal to formal jobs; from casual employment to regular employment; and from wage employment in the unorganized sector to wage employment in the organized sector (Ghose, 2016). DOI: 10.4324/9781003280309-5

Degrees of Disadvantage

59

The structural shifts in India’s labour market have not been standalone events. They have been paralleled by remarkable transformation in the educational system. Since 1990s, there has been unprecedented expansion of educational opportunities at almost all stages and avenues of specialization for various segments of population (Tilak, 2018, 2020). Enrolments at all grades and stages of education have bal­ looned as never before. Elementary education has ceased to be a terminal stage for vast majority of students as it once was. Between 1990–91 and 2015–16, the gross enrolment ratio (GER) at the secondary level shot up from 19% to 68%. The frac­ tion of youth (aged 18–23 years) attending colleges and universities has risen from 5.9% in 1990–91 to 26.3% in 2017–18 (NSSO, 2018). With the unfolding of these two key parallel transformational processes, scholars have sought to interrogate and examine their impact on social disparities in labour market outcomes – namely employment, wage, and occupation. However, the existing body of literature is marked by opposing strands of conclusions. One set of conclusions is that the traditional bond between social origin and occupation has considerably weakened, if not completely dismantled. At the core of this conclu­ sion is the belief that with rising access to education, migration from rural areas to urban centres, and structural shifts in employment opportunities, the members of traditionally disadvantaged groups have been able to enhance their access to good quality jobs and diversify their occupations (Kapur et al., 2010). In other words, there has been a convergence between socioeconomically privileged and disadvan­ taged groups in occupational distribution. In contrast, the other set of conclusions suggests that social origin con­ tinues to retain a firm grip on occupational structure, access to good quality jobs, and wage determination. Notwithstanding the transformations in the key social institutions, social origins continue to determine access to economic opportunities and labour market success. Underpinning these assertions is the belief that hiring processes in the formal labour market are, to a large extent, influenced by socially induced biases (Madheswaran and Attewell, 2007; Thorat and Attewell, 2007; Jodhka and Newman, 2010; Päpola, 2012; Rodgers and Soundararajan, 2016; Singh and Husain, 2016). In brief, prior patterns of social disparities across employment types and occupational structure remain, by and large, unaltered. While these studies offer valuable insights into the relationship between social origin and labour market outcomes, the potentially equalizing impact of education on labour market outcomes remains far from being systematically examined. An important drawback characterizing the existing body of literature is that it often presents the macro or national level picture, ignoring the fact that many socioeco­ nomic outcomes have historically been deeply spatially entrenched. Against this backdrop, this chapter seeks to explore (a) whether social disparities in the occupa­ tional space have increased or reduced in the era of labour market restructuring; (b) whether and how far education levels the playing field in the labour market; and (c) whether spatial contexts intercept education’s mediating role between social origins and labour market outcomes.

60

Mohd. Sanjeer Alam

The chapter is organized as follows. After this introductory section, the next provides a discussion on various theoretical formulations pertaining to education’s role as social equalizer in the labour market. The third section analyses the associa­ tion between social origin and labour market outcomes at the national level. The fourth section attempts to understand the relationship between social origin, edu­ cation, and labour market outcomes in nuanced ways. The fifth and final section concludes the discussion.

Education as a Social Equalizer in the Labour Market: Theoretical Perspectives There are various theoretical formulations with regard to the role of education as leveller in the modern labour markets. First of its kind is the argument that the shift of employment from agriculture to industry and then to services intensi­ fies demand for educated and skilled manpower. Academic credentials provide employers with a ready and relatively reliable tool for screening applicants and allocating jobs to the most deserving ones. It thus implies that once two indi­ viduals achieve the same level of education or similar academic credentials, they become equal and have the same chances of success in the labour market even though they differ in a number of other characteristics (Blau and Duncan, 1967; Treiman, 1970; Bell, 1976). The second is the competitive labour market thesis as articulated in the neoclas­ sical economic theory. According to this thesis, modern labour markets are highly competitive, and employers in such labour markets tend to hire the most qualified and deserving applicants for two intertwined reasons. First, hiring based on merit promises higher levels of efficiency and productivity, which enable firms to maintain competitive edge in the market. Second, there is cost involved in discrimination, nepotism, or misallocation of work. To elaborate, if employers or firms prefer favouritism over meritocracy, they will have to face the wrath of market. Inefficiency combined with lower productivity on account of deviation from the principles of meritocratic hiring will make the errant firms perform badly. The loss of relative competitive advantage owing to inefficiency and lower productivity may eventually push such firms out of the market. To be brief, the pressure of maximiz­ ing productivity and the fear of being pushed out from the market facilitate the ground for hiring based on academic credentials – the measuring rod of merit – rather than the characteristics of individuals that are unrelated to productivity. These theoretical formulations, though influential in economic and labour mar­ ket policy debates, have been contested on many counts. A number of studies in both developed and developing nations have shown that the reward of education in the labour market is often not the same for individuals of different social groups. There are systematic differences in labour market outcomes among social groups (Birdsall and Sabot, 1991; Bertrand and Mullainathan, 2004; Bernardi and Bal­ larino, 2016). The reasons for persistence of social disparities in the labour market over long periods could be many and diverse in nature. First, labour market is

Degrees of Disadvantage

61

quite complex and can be seen as ‘socially constructed and politically mediated structure(s) of conflict and accommodation among contending forces’ (Peck, 1996: 4–5). It is more so in ethnically fragmented societies where labour market is not merely a market in economic sense but also a site where social and cultural rela­ tions play out (Darity and Shulman, 1989; Darity, 1995). Put a little differently, in ethnically divided and socially fragmented settings, employers might involve in favouritism1 or selective inclusion, leading to perpetuation of social inequalities in labour market outcomes. Second, not all markets are highly competitive. In many countries, develop­ ing countries in particular, labour markets are monopolistic and may not necessar­ ily be responsive of or governed by the market logic of competitive pressures. In monopolistic market situations, employers have greater scope for ‘favouritism’ and, by extension, exclusion. An employer may choose to not hire a worker with suitable educational qualification merely because of the fact that the latter belongs to a par­ ticular gender, race, caste, and religious group. Such decisions may be shaped either by the employer’s perception about the efficiency of the social group as a whole or his/her prejudice against the group what Becker (1971) calls ‘taste’ for discrimination. Third, discrimination may persist even in highly competitive markets if all employers are indulged in discriminatory practices. As Birdsall and Sabot (1991) illustrate, if all employers are male and choose to discriminate against females, this would give a competitive advantage to female employers who enter the market. But this kind of competition from new entrants may be far from threatening to the discriminators as the discriminated group is less likely have the capital and entrepre­ neurial skills needed to enter and successfully operate in these markets. In sum, these theoretical perspectives suggest that while formal education is a necessary condition for accessing good quality or socially prestigious jobs, it may not necessarily level the playing field in the labour market. Social origin of individuals might continue to exert considerable influence on their labour market outcomes even if they are similarly or equivalently qualified.

Social Origin and Labour Market Outcomes in India This section looks at labour market outcomes for five socio-religious groups (SRGs): (a) Scheduled Castes (SCs), (b) Scheduled Tribes (STs), (c) Hindu Other Backward Classes (HOBCs), (d) Hindu Forward Castes (HFCs), and (e) Muslims. Historically, these SRGs have had differential access to resources and opportunities. Within the traditional Hindu social system, the institution of castes has played an important role in the social division of labour. ‘Castes were originally occupational units and individuals remained within their caste’s traditional vocation from one generation to the next prior to the arrival of the British’ (Munshi, 2019: 801). The HFCs, being at the top of caste hierarchy, monopolized over society’s scarce socio­ cultural resources and economic opportunities. HOBCs (structurally below HFCs in the social hierarchy) did not suffer from social disabilities, and extreme economic deprivation, yet they lagged way behind

62

Mohd. Sanjeer Alam

HFCs in terms of asset ownership and access to educational opportunities. They largely engaged in a variety of craft work and manual occupations (Galanter, 1978; Jaffrelot, 2010). After a prolonged movement for affirmative action, they became part of the reservation regime in early 1990s.2 Placed at the bottom of social hierarchy, the SCs (ex-untouchables) suffered, for centuries, from social disabilities and exclusion. The notion of purity and pollu­ tion separated them from the main body of Hindus and the cultural mainstream. They were denied access to education and deprived of possessing assets. In the world of work, they were assigned the lowest-status occupations and lowest-paid jobs (Banerjee and Knight, 1985; Munshi, 2019). Unlike SCs, the STs (Adivasis) did not face social stigma as they stayed outside of the Hindu social system, but, owing to geographical isolation (living in remote locations and hilly tracts), they faced extreme socio-economic deprivations. Traditionally, they engaged in primi­ tive occupations and farming, mostly as agricultural labourers. For these two groups, the Indian Constitution provides for special provisions, often referred to as social justice measures. These measures, in the main, include reservation of seats in political institutions – national parliament, state assemblies, and rural and urban local bodies – and in educational institutions and jobs under the public sector in proportion to their share in total population (Goswami, 2003). In terms of religion, it is the Muslims who have borne the brunt of exclusion and deprivation in India (Sachar, 2006). The circumstances and ways in which India was partitioned in 1947 added to marginalization of Muslims who chose to stay back in India.3 Although the Constitution of India entails certain safeguards for the protection of Muslims’ religious and cultural interests, they, as a group, do not enjoy the protective cover of reservation.4 Even as many of older patterns of social relations have changed and extreme forms of discrimination, exploitation, and exclusion have gone away, yet socio­ economic attainment in contemporary India continues to follow social boundaries of caste/tribe and religion. In brief, social origins of caste/tribe and religion con­ tinue to serve as sociological keys to the understanding of socioeconomic inequal­ ity in India. Unlike previous research that privileges wage and earning differentials between and among SRGs, we focus on jobs as well as occupation5 in order to explore and understand disparities in labour market outcomes by social origins. This is done for two reasons. First, empirically, information on wage/income has always been prone to reporting bias and, therefore, been called into question. Second, as pointed out in theoretical literature, social mobility strategies are likely to be framed more in terms of occupation than wage/income. Moreover, not only are specific occupa­ tions a good indicator of potential earnings, they also are a signal of employment conditions and social prestige attached to them. Comparison of social groups in the context of labour market involves a number of analytical issues, suggesting that due care must be taken when comparisons are made. Of particular importance, however, are the issues associated with age and gender. It is well known that not all join the labour force exactly at the same age.

Degrees of Disadvantage

63

For one thing, labour market entry for those pursuing post-school education is fairly delayed. Given that members of different social groups are differentially likely to participate in post-school education; age has clear implications for social groups’ participation in the world of work. Quite obviously, the groups with greater par­ ticipation at higher levels of education will have youth labour force participation rate lower than that of those groups marked by lower levels of post-school educa­ tion. Since all, but very few, finish education as they turn 25 and are likely to join the labour force unless unfit for work owing to certain physical or mental disabili­ ties and so on, the comparison of social groups makes more sense if employment or occupational status is compared for workers aged 25 years and above instead of 15 years and above (often used by labour market analysts). Second, women’s labour force participation rate in India is abysmally low com­ pared to that of men. Nor are they distributed across the whole range of occupa­ tions in the same way as men are. Furthermore, even as the construct of men’s role as the ‘bread winner’ and women’s as the ‘bearer of social reproduction’ is universal across India’s social space, sociocultural codes and norms associated with women’s work in the public domain are variable across socio-religious communities. Thus, withholding women’s overall dismal participation in the paid labour force, some women are more disadvantaged than others (Alam, 2010; Raju, 2010; Sanghi and Srija, 2014). It thus suggests that the comparison of labour market outcomes for different social groups makes more sense when only men workers are compared. Considering these issues, the ensuing analysis focuses on male workers of prime age (25–59 years). Table 3.1 reports the distribution of workers belonging to dif­ ferent SRGs by employment types.6 At the descriptive level, there appears a sort of social polarities in the structure of employment. The SCs/STs and HFCs represent two polar ends. Whereas the proportion of casual workers is the highest and that of regular salaried workers the lowest among SCs/STs, reverse is true of HFCs. In relative terms, the proportion of regular wage/salaried for HFCs is nearly three times as high as it is for SCs/STs. TABLE 3.1 Distribution of Male Workforce by SRGs and Employment Types

SRGs

STs SCs HOBCs HFCs Muslims All

Employment Types Regular Salaried

Self-Employed

Casual Labour

12.3 18.7 19.2 33.4 17.3 20.2

52.2 33.8 53.5 54.4 53.9 49.6

35.5 47.5 27.3 12.2 28.8 30.2

Note: Figures pertain to usual principal status workers aged 25–59 years.

Source: Computed by author from NSSO (unit level data), 68th Round.

64

Mohd. Sanjeer Alam

Between the two extremes are placed HOBCs and Muslims. While HOBCs do well as compared to other disadvantaged groups (SCs, STs, and Muslims), they tend to lag way behind HFCs in terms of getting access to regular salaried employ­ ment. As for Muslims, they are slightly less likely to have access to regular salaried employment as compared to SCs, but they tend to have much lower proportion of casual workers than the latter. Compared with HFCs, Muslims are more likely than are HOBCs to experience labour market marginalization. Inequality in employment types by SRGs is reflected in and better captured by Dissimilarity Index (D) introduced by Duncan and Duncan (1955).7 The index represents the percentage of workers that would have to change from one occu­ pational category to another in order for the two groups (which are compared) to attain the same occupational distribution. As is evident (Figure 3.1; Table 3.4) in 2011–12 and for the age group (25–59), the SCs had the highest D value (0.353), followed by STs (0.233), Muslims (0.166), and HOBCs (0.151). To illustrate fur­ ther, about 35% of SCs would have had to change employment categories – moving to higher status category – to have the same distribution as HFCs. Conversely, 35% of HFCs would have had to move into lower status category in order for having the same distribution as the SCs. As for STs, Muslims, and HOBCs to be identically distributed as HFCs, about 23%, 17%, and 15% respectively would have had to shift from lower- to higher-status employment categories. It is often assumed that the growth of opportunities in the labour market or diversification of occupations as a result of economic transformation benefits all, leading to weakening, if not obliterating, of social polarization/segregation in the structure of employment. If this is the case, the D value should decline over time. As is evident (Table 3.2), between 1999–2000 and 2011–12, the D values for STs and SCs declined by 7 and 5 percentage points, respectively. The same also reduced for HOBCs but only marginally (by 0.7 percentage point). But for Muslims, the D value increased during the same period, though by less than 1 percentage point.

FIGURE 3.1

Index of Occupational Dissimilarity between Socio-Religious Groups

Source: As for Table 3.3.

Degrees of Disadvantage

65

TABLE 3.2 Index of Employment Dissimilarity between Socio-

Religious Groups

STs versus HFCs SCs versus HFCs HOBCs versus HFCs Muslims versus HFCs

1999–2000

2011–12

0.293 0.404 0.158 0.158

0.233 0.353 0.151 0.166

Source: Computed by the author from unit level data, NSSO 55th and 68th rounds.

TABLE 3.3 Distribution of Workers by Occupation and SRGs (2011–12): All India

Occupations

STs

SCs

HOBCs HFCs Muslims All

White collar Legislators/senior officials/managers Professionals/associate professionals Clerks Service/market sales workers Manual (skilled/semi-skilled) Skilled agriculture and fishery workers Craft and related trade workers Plant and machine operators and assemblers Elementary occupations

13.0 3.0 4.1 1.4 4.5 53.5 42.7 8.0 2.8

16.8 4.3 4.8 2.1 5.6 37.9 15.5 16.6 5.8

24.3 7.7 6.0 2.1 8.5 49.8 30.3 13.5 6.0

46.0 13.9 15.2 4.7 12.2 41.3 25.4 8.6 7.3

29.9 11.8 5.9 1.0 11.2 44.1 16.1 18.3 9.7

27.6 8.6 7.7 2.5 8.8 45.2 25.7 13.1 6.4

33.1 44.4 24.1

12.3

25.7

26.2

Note: 1. All figures are in percent and pertain to men workers (usual principal status) aged 25–59 years. 2. The column figures do not add up to 100 as figures representing unclassified occupations are left out. Source: Computed by the author from unit level data, NSSO 68 round.

In sum, during a decade period (between 1999–2000 and 2011–12), disadvan­ taged SRGs, except for Muslims, improved their labour market status vis-à-vis HFCs. While social inequality in labour market outcomes, in terms of employ­ ment types, has reduced to some extent, relatively good quality jobs still remain the preserve of HFCs. A tighter tie between social origins and labour market outcomes is reflected in the allocation/placement of SRGs across the occupational structure. Table 3.3 reports the distribution of SRGs across the occupational spectrum as derived from National Classification of Occupation (2004). Once again, there appears a close correspondence between social hierarchy and occupational structure. Despite structural shifts in the labour market marked by growth of newer employment opportunities and increasing occupational diversification, occupational segrega­ tion8 by social origins is quite visible. As we move from low- to high-level occupa­ tions, HFCs appear to outplace others. Compared with a little over a quarter of

66

Mohd. Sanjeer Alam

men workers being engaged in white-collar occupations in 2011–12, those among HFCs in such occupation was as high as 46%. Conversely, SCs/STs tended to be heaping at the lower rungs of occupational structure. The proportion of workers engaged in elementary occupations was three times as high for SCs/STs as it was for HFCs. While HOBCs and Muslims were better off compared with SCs and STs, they were, nevertheless, twice as likely to be placed in elementary occupations as HFCs. The D values (Figure  3.1) show the extent of occupational inequality/ segregation by social origins. For SCs/STs to be identically distributed in the occu­ pational structure as HFCs, close to 40% of workers would have had to change their occupations – moving from lower- to high-status occupations. As for HOBCs and Muslims, nearly one-fourth of their workers would have had to change their occupations (moving from low to high level occupations) in order for having the same distribution as HFCs in the occupational structure. While the distribution of workers associated with different SRGs across employ­ ment and occupational structures does point to social polarities – disproportion­ ate concentration of socio-economically disadvantaged groups at the lower end of occupational structure and that of advanced groups at the upper end – this observation is, nevertheless, quite simplistic. Any conclusion drawn out of it would be esoteric as well as misleading for the simple reason that educational attainment, a crucial determinant of accessing relatively good quality jobs and better occupa­ tions, is not accounted for. Overtime, different SRGs (particularly the traditionally disadvantaged ones) have improved their human capital stock, but they are differ­ entially placed in the qualificational space. As a result, they enter the labour market with differential human capital, skill levels, and competence (Table 3.4). Given this, it may be argued at this stage that social disparities in labour market outcomes are largely a function of differences in human capital endowment with which members of socio-religious groups enter the world of work. Put simply, the apparent under­ representation of relatively disadvantaged groups such as lower castes and Muslims in white-collar occupations is rather to do with ‘attribute disadvantage’, that is, their poor performance in qualificational space, than anything else, particularly

TABLE 3.4 Educational Profile of Labour Force by SRGs (2011–12)

SRGs

Illiterate

Up to Middle

Up to H. Secondary

Graduate and Above

STs SCs HOBCs HFCs Muslims

35.7 30.9 22.8 8.5 29.8

45.7 46.6 43.0 33.2 47.1

13.2 16.6 24.6 33.8 17.1

5.3 6.0 9.7 24.4 6.0

Note: Figures pertain to individuals aged 25–59 years. Source: Computed by the author from the unit level data, NSSO, 2011–2012 (68th round).

Degrees of Disadvantage

67

discriminatory practices in labour market (Borooah, 2010). But, is it actually the case? Are equally or equivalently qualified individuals destined to similar kinds of jobs and occupations? The following section undertakes a deeper and systematic analysis of the role of education as social equalizer in the labour market.

Does Education Level the Playing Field in the Labour Market? The relationship between individuals’ educational attainment and their placement in the labour market is quite complex as education is differentially important for different kinds of jobs as well as occupations. For instance, only social minimum of education, that is completion of elementary level, may suffice for low skilled and lower rungs of regular salaried jobs (such as driver, peon, and guards), but higher academic degrees (post-school education) are a prerequisite for high skilled and socially prestigious jobs/occupations. Even more complex is the effect of educa­ tion on labour market outcomes for SRGs. It is, for example, possible to argue that while there may be little or no exclusionary practices involved in the hiring processes for the low skilled/low earning jobs, such practices could be operating in the hiring processes for high-end positions as these jobs are relatively scarce and that they offer best employment conditions and carry social prestige. Intuitively though, there might occur greater social competition for such jobs. In other words, while educational qualification may act as social equalizer in the case of lower end jobs, it may not necessarily be playing such a role for high end jobs. Even so, spatial/regional location may intercept education’s mediating role in the labour market. It may do so for the following reasons. First, labour market pro­ cesses and outcomes are often seen as spatially embedded and structured. Economic geographers have pointed out that it is within specific spatial settings and con­ texts – local and regional labour markets – that the workers seek employment and employers hire and fire workers and that labour market practices including those that produce and reproduce patterns of discrimination and stratification become established (Coombes et al., 1985; Feldman, 2009; Martin and Morrison, 2002). Scholars of Indian labour market have also shown stark differences in key labour market indicators, including labour market regulation and avenues and patterns of employment across states and regions (Ramaswamy, 2007; Ahasan and Pages, 2008; Chandrasekhar and Sharma, 2014). Second, there are marked differences in the patterns of social and economic relations across regions. As a result, socio-religious groups are found to be differentially placed in the opportunity structure across spatial contexts. It may, thus, be argued that even if education dilutes or neutralizes the effect of social origins on labour market outcomes at the macro/national level, its impact might vary at the sub-national or regional levels. The ensuing analysis draws upon the data set provided by NSSO (Employment and Unemployment Survey, 2011–2012) and is restricted to white-collar jobs/occu­ pations only. The sample consists of male workers aged 25–59 years and who have attained educational levels secondary and above. For understanding the impact of

68

Mohd. Sanjeer Alam

economic restructuring on social pattern of access to white-collar occupations, the sample is divided into two age cohorts: 25–40 and 41–59 years. While those in the younger age cohort (25–40 years) would have begun to join the labour market in the 1990s, most of those falling in older the age cohort (41–59 years) would have entered the labour market before 1990s. Thus, the two age cohorts represent postand pre- economic reforms phases, respectively. In order to capture the effect of spatial contexts, two regions – forward and backward – are considered.9 The two developmentally differentiated regions not only vary in terms of geographical location, key parameters of development, and labour market opportunities (Kurian, 2000; Ramaswamy, 2007) but also in terms of structural features (social relations), presence of social agencies/networks, and political culture. For instance, most part of the forward region, compared with backward region, has a long history of social movements against oppressive and exploitative structures (of gender and caste) and for greater share in the oppor­ tunity structure (Rao, 1984; Shah, 2004). Compared with the backward region, social networks (caste/community) are well developed and active in the greater part of the forward region. These networks are seen as playing important role not only in terms of promoting education among the members thereof but also in terms of helping them in the job market in many important ways (Munshi, 2016). In terms of political culture, most part of the forward region has been marked by political unity when it comes to undertaking progressive social policies aimed at empowering common people. In contrast, political divisiveness in much of the ter­ ritory under the backward region has stymied overall socio-economic development (Singh, 2015). These variations might add important insights into education’s role as a social equalizer in the labour market. Binary logistic regression10 is used as the statistical tool for determining the impact of independent/explanatory variables. A particular advantage of this statisti­ cal tool is that it sorts out the issue of independent variables as numerical versus categorical. Both types of variables work well in the equation. Additionally, it allows for teasing out or quantifying relative importance of independent variables in determining the outcomes of interest. Table 3.5 presents the estimates of prob­ ability of men being in white-collar occupation. The estimates of probability are presented in three models (Ms). It emerges from M1 that equally qualified workers of different social origins are likely to have differential access to white-collar jobs. Educational attainment being equal, social groups such as STs, SCs, HOBCs, and Muslims are less likely than HFCs to be in white-collar jobs/occupations. To illustrate further, if two individu­ als, one being SC/ST and the other HFC, are equally qualified, the odds of being in white-collar occupations of the former are lower than the latter. While SCs, STs, HOBCs, and Muslims appear to face disadvantage compared with the HFCs, they are, nevertheless, marked by differential degrees of disadvantage. The SCs/STs appear to be worst off as compared to HOBCs and Muslims. In brief, educational attainment is necessary but not enough for getting access to white-collar occupa­ tions. There is much more involved.

Degrees of Disadvantage

69

Has social inequality in white-collar occupations decreased over time? The results of logistic regression (M2) suggest that inequality has increased rather than decreased. As can be observed (Table 3.5; M2), relative to HFCs, the odds ratios for STs, SCs, HOBCs, and Muslims were higher for older age cohort (41–59 years) than for the younger age cohort (25–40). Again, the inequality between HFCs and different disadvantaged groups has increased differentially. Inequality between HFCs and SC/STs appears to have increased more than between HFCs and HOBCs and Muslims. While the odds ratios for STs reduced, more or less, by half from older to younger age cohorts, the same for HOBCs and Muslims declined only marginally. There could, at least, be two possible reasons for this. The first is the downsiz­ ing of employees in the public sector where a fixed quota of seats for social groups such as SCs/STs/OBCs applies.11 For example in 1993, the total number of jobs in the public sector was 193.26 lakh and thereby accounted for three quarters of the total number of jobs (of 271.77 lakh) in the formal sector but reduced to 176.1 lakh in 2012. In contrast, the total number of jobs in the private sector increased from 78.51 lakh in 1993 to 119.7 lakh in 2012 (Indian Labour Year Book, 2018–2019). With this, the share of the private sector in formal sector employment ticked up from 28% to 40%. Second, occupational inequality between and among social groups could, in part, be explained by persistent participation gaps in the credential revolution that unfolded in 1990s. As more recent statistics show, economically better off social groups have benefited more from the credential revolution, characterized by the emergence of a large variety of non-traditional and market-oriented academic courses, and mostly provided by the expensive private sector institutions than the socioeconomically disadvantaged groups (NSSO, 2014).12 Educational qualifications being equal, spatial contexts appear to have strongly influenced one’s access to white-collar occupations (M3). Although historically dis­ advantaged groups continue to lag way behind HFCs in both the regions, they, in overall terms, tend to do well in the forward region as compared to their counter­ parts in the backward region. Given this, it is possible to argue that education’s role in reducing social inequalities is more marked in a context of greater availability of good quality jobs (as in the forward region) than in a context of restricted oppor­ tunities (as in the backward region). Withholding the aforementioned observation, regional location appears to impact the chances for different social groups of being in white-collar occupations differentially. Compared to SC/STs, the odds for HOBCs improve significantly in the forward region. Although a combination of factors may underlie better perfor­ mance of HOBCs in the forward region, the most important one is early exposure to social justice movements and bigger size of quota in the public sector jobs (e.g. Kerala – 40%; Karnataka – 32%; Tamil Nadu – 50%). Furthermore, the HOBCs in most part of the forward region, compared with their counterparts in the back­ ward region, have been politically powerful and economically well off. Add to this, they have dense caste-based organizations and networks. These organizations and networks not only act as power brokers but are also seen as playing part in the

70

Mohd. Sanjeer Alam

TABLE 3.5 Results of Logistic Regression

SRGs

M1 (SRGs)

M2 (Age)

M3 (Region)

25–40

41–59

Forward

Backward

1.000 0.384 0.418 0.473 0.857 1.489 .036

1.000 0.694 0.516 0.496 0.972 2.200 .026

1.000 0.435 0.467 0.616 1.114 1.605 .023

1.000 0.362 0.405 0.341 0.706 1.687 .058

Odds Ratios HFCs (rc) STs SCs HOBCs Muslims Constant Cox and Snell Square

1.000 0.448 0.427 0.470 0.857 1.725 .034

Note: 1. rc refers to reference category. 2. All coefficients in the underlying logistic regression differ significantly from 0 at the 1% level.

processes of hiring in the urban formal labour market in important ways (Munshi, 2016). Thus, these factors, along with greater size of quota in the public sector jobs, might lie behind enhanced access of HOBCs in white-collar occupations in the forward region. Interestingly, regional location appears to be more important for Muslims than it is for other disadvantaged groups. Educational qualifications being equal, Muslims, like other disadvantaged groups, are less likely to be in white-collar occupations as compared to HFCs in the backward region. But they appear to bridge the gap in the forward region as they are as likely to be placed in white-collar occupations as HFCs. This can possibly be explained by two factors. First, in the forward region, not only are Muslims more urbanized than their counterparts in the backward region but also more urbanized than are other social groups in the region. More than half the Muslim population (56%), compared with region’s overall average of 43%, live in urban centres – the hub of opportunities for white-collar occupations. Second, in many states of this region (e.g., Kerala, Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh), most Muslim communities are part of the reservation regime.13 It thus emerges that education does not level the playing field in the Indian labour market as far as access to white-collar jobs is concerned. Nor has economic restructuring reduced occupational inequality between equally educated individuals of different social origins. Withholding this, spatial context matters in shaping education’s role as social equalizer in the labour market. For reasons, educational credentials substantially reduce social gaps in occupational attainment in the forward region.

Summing Up In the context of economic and labour market restructuring characterized by increasing opportunities of high-skilled jobs, the role of education in labour market

Degrees of Disadvantage

71

outcomes is seen as critically important. This chapter aimed at exploring if equally or equivalently qualified individuals belonging to different social groups are likely be placed in similar kinds of occupations. The findings suggest that in overall terms, equally or equivalently qualified workers across socio-religious groups are likely to come up with differential labour market outcomes, especially in terms of accessing white-collar occupations. It means that social origins of caste/tribe and religion continue to have a firm grip on the distribution of workers in the occupational structure in contemporary India. Despite the back up of affirmative action policies, equally qualified lower castes are much less likely than higher castes (Hindus) to have access to white-collar occupations. As in the case of lower castes, education is unlikely to level the playing field for Muslims in the labour markets. In other words, academic degrees pay off different social groups quite differentially in the labour market. Returns to academic degrees are not the same for all. The findings, much against the generalized belief, also indicate that the inequal­ ity in labour market outcomes has increased overtime. Educational qualification being equal, the inequality between disadvantaged groups and HFCs appears to be more marked in post-1990s than it was before. Spatial contexts, however, seem to exert profound influence on education’s role as a social equalizer in the labour market. Holding educational qualification equal, social disparities in the labour market outcomes (especially in terms of accessing white collar jobs) get substan­ tially reduced or mitigated in the forward region. To conclude, the role of education in enhancing access to well-paying jobs and high-status occupations is beyond doubt. However, for the members of dis­ advantaged groups, academic degrees alone are not enough for placing them in well-paying jobs and high-status occupations. There is much more involved in differential labour market returns to education. Although living in a developed context helps the members of socioeconomically disadvantaged groups break the labour market barriers to some extent, they are required to acquire other attributes (valued in the labour market) as well. As is well known, different sorts of academic degrees/credentials are differentially valued in the labour market. It means that any analysis treating academic qualification as an undifferentiated variable uncovers only part of the picture. Future research may consider this aspect of education to fully account for education’s role as a social equalizer in the labour market.

Notes 1 Favouritism here refers to employer’s preferences to hire applicants for better jobs from socio-economically advantaged families or from same social origin, all other conditions, including productivity being equal. 2 Vide Department of Personnel  & Training O.M. dated 13.08.1990. However, the announcement invited massive protests and violent agitation by upper caste Hindus, particularly in North India. The decision of the government was challenged in the Courts. The Supreme Court in 1992, by a majority judgement, in the Indra Sawhney case upheld 27% reservation for OBCs in civil posts and services under the Union of India, subject to exclusion of the so-called ‘Creamy layer’.

72

Mohd. Sanjeer Alam

3 At the political level, Partition necessarily entailed a major diminution in Muslims’ power and influence, for it robbed the community of articulate leadership (Krishna, 1977). Added to this, their status was reduced to ‘a minority acutely blamed by the Hindus for the Partition of the country, a minority regarded as representative of an antiIndian, hostile, divisive and subversive influence which had shattered the aspirations for national unity’ (Murphy, 1953: 124). At the social and economic level, the community was ‘skimmed off’ the stratum that was in the forefront of appropriating educational and economic opportunities; that produced professionals and leaders who acted as a source of inspiration for education and white-collar jobs for the community; and above all maintained socio-economic and political equilibrium vis-à-vis other communities (Imam, 1975; Hasan, 1997). The remaining business and feudal classes suffered due to the enactment of certain legislations in the aftermath of Independence. The middle class that had developed the taste for joining government services in the pre-Partition period was now edged out from such avenues in absence of supportive institutional arrange­ ments such as ‘reservation’ during the colonial period (Husain, 1965). Thus, acute sense of fear, frustrations, insecurity, and uncertainties – all combined to have the Muslims a narrow view of their rights as citizens. For many observers, Indian Muslims concerned themselves to physical security, protection of property, and to guard their religio-cultural identity (Puri, 1993). 4 It may, however, may mentioned that some communities among Muslims are identified as OBCs and, thus, are beneficiaries of reservation. But the proportion of OBCs among Muslims is much lower than what many believe it actually ought to be. On the issues involved in the identification of Muslim communities as OBCs, see (Jenkins, 2003; Alam, 2014). 5 Labour market analysts often tend to emphasize the greater generality and abstract of occupation and the greater specificity of jobs: whereas a job is defined as a specific and sometimes unique bundle of activities carried out by a person in the expectation of eco­ nomic remuneration, an occupation as an abstract category used to group and classify similar jobs. See, for example, Hauser Warren (2001). 6 The National Sample Surveys on employment and unemployment classify the structure of employment into three broad categories. They are defined as follows: (a) Casual laborers are those who work as a daily wager; (b) self-employed are those who work in household enterprise as own account worker, as an employer, and as helper; (c) regular salaried workers are those who work regularly (either on contractual basis or permanent basis) and draw salary for the work performed. 7 The dissimilarity index (D) introduced by Duncan and Duncan (1955) is a simple and widely used measure of occupational segregation. It is statistically captured as follows: D = ½ Σ |Xi/X – Yi/Y|, where Xi is the number of workers belonging to the group which is compared, say SCs in the current context, in a particular category of occupa­ tion/employment, and X is the total number of workers of the given group; Yi is the number of workers belonging to the referent group, say HFCs, and Y is the total number of workers belonging to the given (referent) group. The value of D ranges between 0 and 1 (or 0 and 100 when converted in percentage terms), with zero implying a perfectly even distribution and 1 (or 100) a complete segregation. 8 Occupational segregation is broadly defined as a differential distribution of social groups across occupations. Some scholars distinguish between vertical and horizontal segregation. Vertical segregation occurs when one group holds a disproportionate share of occupa­ tions with high pay, prestige, and promotion prospects whereas horizontal segregation is said to exist when groups hold separate but equal occupations. It is argued that verti­ cal segregation is incompatible with contemporary forms of egalitarianism and hence should decline over time. In contrast, horizontal segregation is compatible both with liberal egalitarianism and with essentialist ideologies that hold group-linked skills and preferences as ‘natural’ (Weeden, 2007). 9 The conceptualization of region as forward and backward is restricted to 16 major states of India (as in 2011), together accounting for 96% of country’s population. The

Degrees of Disadvantage

10

11

12

13

73

forward region or group of states consists of Andhra Pradesh, Gujarat, Haryana, Kar­ nataka, Kerala, Maharashtra, Punjab, and Tamil Nadu. The backward region or group of states includes Bihar, Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, Madhya Pradesh, Orissa, Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, and West Bengal. Geographically, the forward region falls in the western and southern parts of the country, and they are contiguous except for Punjab and Hary­ ana which are separated by Rajasthan from rest of the states in this group. The backward region or group of states falls in the northern and eastern parts of the country, and they are also geographically contiguous. Yet another geographical distinction between these two groups of states is that while six of eight states in the first group (forward) are coastal in location, only two out of the eight states in the second group (backward) are littoral (Kurian, 2000). Logistic regression (binary/binomial) is a form of regression estimating the probability that a certain event will occur. It is used when the dependent variable is a dichotomy and the independent variables are of any type – continuous or categorical. Briefly speaking, it can be used to predict a dependent variable on the basis of independent variables; to determine the per cent of variance in the dependent variable explained by the inde­ pendents; to rank the relative importance of independents; to see interaction effects; and to understand the impact of covariate control variables. The dependent variable in the present case is ‘whether engaged in upper regular salaried employment’, coded ‘1’ if yes and coded ‘0’ if otherwise. The odds ratios (exp (β)) represent, in the present case, the relative chance of being in white-collar occupations. If the odds ratio is greater than 1.0, it means a greater likelihood of being in the occupation in question relative to the refer­ ence category. Conversely, if the value (odds ratio) is less than 1.0, it means the chance of being in that job/occupation is less relative to the reference category. In the government sector employment, certain number of positions are set aside for the SCs and the STs at all levels of the job hierarchy. The quota fixed for these two groups is proportional to their share in total population. In the early 1990s, the ambit of quota was extended to OBCs (Other Backward Classes). About 27% of positions under the central government are reserved for these groups. At the state level, the quantum of reservation for OBCs varies a great deal (e.g. from 10% in West Bengal to 50% in Tamil Nadu). For example, the students belonging to HFCs are much more likely than are those of other SRGs to take non-traditional courses. Conversely, a much higher proportion of students from disadvantaged SRGs than that of those from HFCs are likely be chan­ nelled into traditional streams/courses (NSSO, 2014). In Kerala, almost all Muslim communities are identified as OBCs, and 12% of govern­ ment jobs are currently reserved for them. In Tamil Nadu, more than 90% of Muslims are identified as OBCs and entitled to reservation under the 30% category earmarked for OBCs. Karnataka brought in 4% reservation for Muslims in 1994.

References Ahasan, Ahmad and Carmen Pages (2008): ‘Some Implications of Regional Differences in Labour Market Outcomes in India’, in Mazumdar, Dipak and Sandip Sarkar (eds.): Glo­ balization, Labour Markets and Inequality in India, New York: Routledge. Alam, M. Sanjeer (2010): ‘Unequal They Stand: Decision making and Gendered Spaces within Family’, in Raju, Saraswati and Kuntala Lhiri-Dutt (eds.): Doing Gender, Doing Geography: Emerging Research in India, New Delhi: Routledge. Alam, M. Sanjeer (2014): ‘Affirmative Action for Muslims: Arguments, Contentions and Alternatives’, Studies in Indian Politics, Vol. 2 (2): 215–229. Banerjee, Biswajit and J. B. Knight. (1985): ‘Caste Discrimination in the Indian Urban Labour Market’, Journal of Development Economics, Vol. 17 (3): 277–307. Becker, G. S. (1971): The Economics of Discrimination (2nd edition), Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

74

Mohd. Sanjeer Alam

Bell, Denial (1976): The Coming of Post-Industrial Society: A Venture in Social Forecasting, New York: Basic Books. Bernardi, F. and G. Ballarino (eds.) (2016): Education, Occupation and Social Origin: A Compara­ tive Analysis of the Transmission of Socio-Economic Inequalities, Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. Bertrand, M. and S. Mullainathan (2004): ‘Are Emily and George More Employable Than Lashika and Jamal? A  Field Experiment on Labour Market Discrimination’, American Economic Review, Vol. (94): 991–1048. Birdsall, Nancy and R. Sabot (1991): ‘Introduction’, in Birdsall, N. and R. Sabot (eds.): Unfair Advantage: Labour Market Discrimination in Developing Countries, Washington, D.C.: World Bank. Blau, P. and O. D. Duncan (1967): The American Occupational Structure, New York: Wiley. Borooah, V. K. (2010): ‘On the Risks of Belonging to Disadvantaged Groups: A Bayesian Analysis of Labour Market Outcomes’, in Basant, R. and A. Shariff (eds.): Oxford Hand­ book of Muslims: Empirical and Policy Perspectives, New Delhi: Oxford University Press (pp. 199–220). Chandrasekhar, S. and Ajay Sharma (2014): ‘On the Spatial Concentration of Employment in India’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 49 (21): 16–18. Coombes, M. G., A. E. Green and D. W. Owen (1985): “Local Labour Market Areas for Different Social Groups,” Discussion Paper No. 74, Centre for Regional and Urban Development Studies, University of New Castle., Callaghan, Australia. Darity, W. (Jr) (1995): Economics and Discrimination, Northampton MA: Edward Elgar Publishing. Darity, W. (Jr), and S. Shulman (1989): Questions of Discrimination: Racial Inequality in the US Labour Market, Middletown: Wesleyan University Press. Duncan, O. D. and B. Duncan (1955): ‘A Methodological Analysis of Segregation Indexes’, American Sociological Review, Vol. 20: 210–217. Feldman, H (2009): ‘Geography and Performance of Labour Market’, Eastern Economic Jour­ nal, Vol. 35 (2): 190–208. Galanter, Marc (1978): ‘Who Are Other Backward Classes? An Introduction to a Constitu­ tional Puzzle’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 13 (43–44): 1812–1828. Ghose, Ajit K (2016): India Employment Report, 2016, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Goswami, B (2003): Constitutional Safe Guards for Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes, Jaipur: Rawat. Hasan, Mushirul (1997): The Legacy of a Dived Nation, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Hauser, R. M. and J. R. Warren (2001): ‘Socioeconomic Indexes for Occupations: A Review, Update and Critique’, in Grusky, D. B. (ed.): Social Stratification: Class, Race, and Gender in Sociological Perspective, Boulder: Westview Press (pp. 281–286). Husain, S. A. (1965): The Destiny of Indian Muslims, New Delhi: Asia Publishing House. Imam, Zafar (1975): ‘Some Aspects of the Social Structure’, in Imam, Zafar (ed.): Muslims in India, New Delhi: Orient Longman (pp. 70–110). Indian Labour Year Book (2018–2019): Ministry of Labour and Employment, Government of India. Jaffrelot, Christophe (2010): Religion, Caste and Politics in India, New Delhi: Primus Books. Jenkins, L. D. (2003): Identity and Identification in India, New York: Routledge Curzon. Jodhka, S. and K. S. Newman (2010): ‘In the Name of Globalization: Meritocracy, Pro­ ductivity and the Hidden Language of Caste’, in Thorat, S. K. and K. Newman (eds.): Blocked by Caste: Economic Discrimination in Modern India, New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Kapur, D., C. B. Prasad, L. Pritchett and D. Shyam Babu (2010): ‘Rethinking Inequality in Uttar Pradesh in the Market Reform Era’, Economic and Political Weekly, 46 (35): 39–49.

Degrees of Disadvantage

75

Krishna, Gopal (1977): Contemporary Muslim Attitudes and Their Place in Indian Society, Delhi: CSDS. Kurian, N. J. (2000): ‘Widening Regional Disparities in India: Some Indicators’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 35 (7): 338–350. Madheswaran, S. and P. Attewell (2007): ‘Caste Discrimination in the Indian Urban Labour Market’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 41: 4146–4153. Martin, R. and Philip S. Morrison (eds.) (2002): The Geographies of Labour Market Inequality, London: Routledge. Mincer, J (1977): Schooling, Experience and Earnings, New York: National Bureau of Eco­ nomic Research. Munshi, Kaivan (2016): ‘Caste Networks in the Modern Indian Economy’, in Dev, S. Mahendra and P.G. Babu (eds): Development in India: Micro and Macro Perspectives, New Delhi: Springer. Munshi, Kaivan (2019): ‘Caste and the Indian Economy’, Journal of Economic Literature, Vol. 57 (4): 781–834. Murphy, G (1953): In the Minds of Men: The Study of Human Behaviour and Social Tension in India, New York: Basic Books. National Sample Survey Organization (NSSO) (2011–2012): “Employment and Unem­ ployment Situation in India (68th Round),” Ministry of Statistics and Programme Imple­ mentation, Government of India. New Delhi. National Sample Survey Organization (NSSO) (2014): “Education in India (71st Round), Report No. 575, Government of India New Delhi. National Sample Survey Organization (NSSO) (2018): “Key Indicators of Household Social Consumption on Education (75th Round),” Government of India, New Delhi. 362–388. Päpola, T. S. (2012): “Social Exclusion and Discrimination in the Labour Market,” ISID Working Paper 2012/04, New Delhi. Päpola, T. S. and P. P. Sahu (2012): Growth and Structure of Employment in India: Long-Term and Post-Reform Performance and the Emerging Challenge, New Delhi: Institute for Studies in Industrial Development. Peck, J (1996): Workplace: The Social Regulation of Labour Markets, New York: Guilford Press. Puri, Balraj (1993): ‘Indian Muslims since Partition’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 28 (40), pp. 2141–2149. Raju, Saraswati (2010): Mapping the World of Women’s Work: Regional Patterns and Perspectives, New Delhi: ILO. Ramaswamy, K. V. (2007): ‘Regional Dimension of Growth and Employment’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 8: 47–56. Rao, M. S. A. (1984): Social Movements in India: Studies in Peasants, Backward Classes, Sectara­ ian, Tribal and Women’s Movement, New Delhi: Manohar. Rodgers, Garry and V. Soundararajan (2016): Patterns of Inequality in the Indian Labour Mar­ ket, New Delhi: Academic Foundation. Sachar, Rajindar (2006): Social, Economic and Educational Status of the Muslim Community of India. A Report, New Delhi: Prime Minister’s High Level Committee, Cabinet Secre­ tariat, Government of India. Sanghi, Sunita and A. Srija (2014): ‘Employment Trends among Religious Communities of India’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 49 (17): 22–24. Shah, Ghanshyam (2004): Social Movements in India: A Review of Literature (2nd edition), New Delhi: Sage. Singh, Manpreet and Zakir Husain (2016): ‘Self-fulfilling Equilibrium and Social Disparities in Urban India’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 51 (48): 43–50.

76

Mohd. Sanjeer Alam

Singh, Prerna (2015): How Solidarity Works for Welfare: Subnationalism and Social Development in India, New Delhi: Cambridge University Press. Thorat, S. K. and P. Attewell (2007): ‘The Legacy of Social Exclusion: A  Correspond­ ence Study of Job Discrimination in India’s Urban Private Sector’, Economic and Political Weekly, Vol. 42(41): 4141–4145. Tilak, J. B. G. (2018): Education and Development in India: Critical Issues in Public Policy and Development, Singapore: Palgrave Macmillan. Tilak, J. B. G. (ed.) (2020): Universal Secondary Education in India: Issues, Challenges and Pros­ pects, Singapore: Springer. Treiman, Donald J (1970): ‘Industrialization and Social Stratification’, Sociological Inquiry, Vol. 40: 207–234. Weeden, Kim (2007): ‘Occupational Segregation’, in George Ritzer (ed.): Blackwell Encyclo­ paedia of Sociology, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing (pp. 3244–3247).

SECTION II

Mobile Landscapes

4 SOCIAL MOBILITY PATTERNS, OPPORTUNITIES, AND BARRIERS Muslims in Contemporary India Divya Vaid

Introduction The opportunity for social mobility is seen as an important indicator of equal­ ity in a society. Rates of social mobility which can refer to both intra and inter­ generational movement between strata such as class highlight the significant role social origins play in determining either career outcomes (i.e. intra-generational movement of an individual over their own career) or social class destinations (i.e. inter-generational movement of social position/social location between parents and children). The stronger the impact of social origins on one’s destinations, the less the opportunities for social mobility in any society (Heath, 1981, Erikson and Goldthorpe, 1992). Previous studies on social mobility patterns, as captured through occupational class, have emphasized the higher rates of inter-generational stability and the absence of mobility opportunities broadly for men (Kumar et al., 2002a, 2002b) and for women and men (Vaid, 2018, Vaid and Heath, 2010) in the Indian context, where women have been seen to display less social class mobility. In the most prominent studies on social mobility, mobility has been studied by looking at movements between different strata including income, occupation, wealth, or education (see Iversen et al., 2021, for a review of the field of social mobility as approached by economists, sociologists, and others in the Global South). This chapter focuses spe­ cifically on inter-generational occupational class mobility taking forward previous work in this area and using a measure of social class which has been validated in prior research for India (see Vaid, 2018 for details). The focus of the present work is on dis-aggregating the category of Muslims to the extent possible in the available data by asking whether there are divergent patterns of social mobility for Muslims in comparison to each other and in comparison to other communities and the role education plays as a potential driver or barrier to these opportunities of mobility.1

DOI: 10.4324/9781003280309-7

80

Divya Vaid

While we are focusing specifically on occupational class mobility among the Muslims in this chapter, work on prestige, occupations, and respect in the work­ place (Taylor, 2015) has looked at other aspects such as the role madrasas play in providing opportunities to Muslims from lower social classes. Further, much work has looked at the marginalization of Muslims socially and economically (Jaffrelot and Gayer, 2012) in India. There has been work more generally on the discrimina­ tion in the labour market, which has highlighted the plight of Muslims. For exam­ ple in Attewell and Thorat’s (2010) paper, they found that applications bearing a Muslim name (as well as those with Dalit names) showed a statistically significant lower probability of being invited for a job interview when compared to ‘high­ caste Hindu’ applicants (p. 253). Asher et al. (2021) in their paper using the India Human Development Survey (IHDS) and the Socioeconomic and Caste Cen­ sus (SECC) find that Muslims have experienced downward mobility in education terms, while they report that SCs have experienced some upward mobility which could be an outcome of the reservation policy. They conclude in their paper that the ‘lack of change overall can be decomposed into substantial gains for Scheduled Castes/Scheduled Tribes and substantial losses for Muslims’ (p. 29). Vaid (2018: 182), using the National Election Study (NES) 2014 data by employing a broader categorization of Muslims and, by looking at adjusted residu­ als of standard mobility tables2 to study whether any community is over or under­ represented in a social class destination, finds that Muslims as the largest religious minority show an interesting concentration given their rural – urban distribution. In rural India, they are over-represented in petty business and in skilled and semi-unskilled work. They are distinctly under-represented as farm owners (large and small). In urban India, they are highly concentrated in big business and in skilled work and under-represented in the low professions and in the agrarian sector. Also, regarding patterns by gender, Vaid finds an over-representation of Muslim men in self-employment. Also, ‘[f]or petty business Muslims are the sole category that is overrepresented for men’ (p. 183). In terms of access to professional occupations, Vaid finds that for Muslims born in the first three cohorts of her study (those born between 1950 and 1979), their access to professional occupations is not statistically significantly different from the average – hence, they do not display either an advantage or a disadvantage in gaining a professional job. However, the youngest cohort – those born between 1980 and 1989 for both women and for men – show a negative statistically signifi­ cant coefficient, thus showing that this cohort has a disadvantage in gaining access to professional jobs as compared to the average. Interestingly, when education is controlled for in the regression models, Vaid finds that Muslim men and women from the youngest cohort do not display any statistically significant disadvantage as compared to the average. This seems to indicate that once the access to education

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

81

is controlled for, Muslims perform as well as the average person in the data. This places a lot more pressure on education as the mechanism for social mobility (see also Breen and Vaid, 2008). Finally, in terms of whether Muslims find it harder to move up or down as compared to other caste/community groups, Vaid finds that Muslims show a weaker Origin–Destination association than all other groups for both women and men (the only exception is Other Minority women who have a weaker asso­ ciation than Muslim women). What this implies is that Muslims are mobile to a greater extent – however, mobility does not always imply upward mobility – and as Vaid shows, Muslims are likely to be both upwardly and downwardly mobile. The present chapter takes forward this work, expanding it by focusing on Muslims specifically by disaggregating the broader Muslim category to the extent pos­ sible in the data, something that has not previously been done extensively using national-level data. This chapter has three aims: first, by looking at patterns of social mobility through occupations, it asks whether Muslims (OBC and non-OBC3) have expe­ rienced similar rates of both absolute and relative social mobility as non-Muslims in contemporary India. Here as discussed in endnote 2, social mobility is indexed by the movement, if any, between respondent’s father’s social class (used as a proxy for family origins (O)) and the respondent’s own class (as the destination (D)4). We look at both women and men in this study. Absolute rates of mobility imply the broader pattern of mobility: up, down, or horizontal between classes placed at more or less similar social locations, whereas relative mobility implies the mobility net of changes in the economy such as brought about due to reduc­ tion in agriculture. If we observe a stronger O–D (origin–destination) association, we will see less social mobility and vice versa. Second, this chapter studies the patterns of educational mobility in India; and, third, this chapter asks whether opportunities to gain access to professional occupations in India have been equal for Muslims and non-Muslim groups and whether OBC and non-OBC Muslims have had differing opportunities. The chapter attempts a disaggregation to study whether within Muslims any broad differences can be seen in terms of access and attainment.

Data and Methods This chapter draws on the National Election Study (NES) Post-Poll survey from 2014, conducted by the Centre for the Study of Developing Societies. The survey used multi-stage stratified random samples, with a sample size of 22,295 covering 26 states. This data provides a large sample size of individuals (not households) allowing for a comparison of women and men’s inter-generational social mobility which may be difficult with household-level surveys where information is provided by the head of the household rather than by individuals and where the movement of a greater number of women than men out of parental households may lead to

82

Divya Vaid

skewed data. This chapter uses the NES 2014 survey and not the more recent 2019 survey since questions on parent’s occupation were not asked in 2019. As mentioned in endnote 4, due to small sample sizes for mother’s occupation, the 2014 analysis captures inter-generational mobility or movement between the respondents and their fathers though mother’s data is used for the educational analysis. The final sample size of the data, after deleting missing cases on the variables of interest, is 9,576. Using this data also provides a useful comparison with previous research (see Vaid 2018).

Variables – Caste and Community According to the Sachar Committee Report (SCR, p. 193), [O]ne can discern three groups among Muslims: (1) those without any social disabilities, the ashrafs; (2) those equivalent to Hindu OBCs, the ajlafs, and (3) those equivalent to Hindu SCs, the arzals. Those who are referred to as Muslim OBCs combine (2) and (3). In further discussion using the NSSO data, the Sachar Committee separates the Muslim OBCs (including here Muslim SCs) from Muslim non-OBCs. The National Election Study has two variables on caste. This chapter uses the variable ‘what is your caste-group’ (variable 25a in the survey) with the options SC, ST, OBC, and Other along with the question on religion (variable 26) ‘what is your religion’, to create a variable that further separates the Hindus and Muslims by their respective reported caste group. Following Sachar, Table 4.1 provides the sample distribution in the NES 2014 for variables on religion and on caste group. SCs and STs comprise 4.2% and 2.2% of the Muslim sample respectively (which constitutes 0.4% and 0.2% respectively of the total sample). For the analysis in this chapter, these two categories are put together with the OBCs (following the

TABLE 4.1 Caste and Religion in the NES 2014 Data (Row Percent)

What Is Your Caste Group?

Religion

Hindu Muslim Other

Total

1: Scheduled Castes

2: Scheduled Tribes

3: Other Backward Classes

4: Others

Total

1,624 21.0% 40 4.2% 272 30.3% 1,936 20.2%

922 11.9% 21 2.2% 244 27.2% 1,187 12.4%

3,329 43.0% 492 52.2% 137 15.3% 3,958 41.3%

1,860 24.0% 390 41.4% 245 27.3% 2,495 26.1%

7,735 100% 943 100% 898 100% 9,576 100%

Note: N = 9,576, unweighted data.

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

83

TABLE 4.2 Variable Combining Information on Caste and

Religion from the NES 2014 Data

Hindu SC Hindu ST Hindu OBC Hindu general/other Muslim OBC Muslim non-OBC Other religions Total

Frequency

Percent

1,624 922 3,329 1,860 553 390 898 9,576

17.0 9.6 34.8 19.4 5.8 4.1 9.4 100.0

Sachar report). This leads to 5.8% of the final sample identifying as ‘Muslim OBC’ and 4.1% as ‘Other Muslims’ (see Table 4.2). A disaggregation by community, a variable that brings together both caste and religion, is provided in Table 4.2. In comparison to the Sachar Committee Report (SCR) where 40.7% of the Muslims were OBCs, in the NES data we are using that figure is 58.6% including the SCs and STs (Table 4.1). Since the final sample used in this chapter includes only those who report an occupation for themselves and for their parents (either their cur­ rent occupation or their last one), the total Muslim sample is 9.9%, which is lower than the national average population of Muslims (14.2% in the 2011 Census). This potential under-representation of Muslims generally in the sample needs to be borne in mind for the analysis.

Variables – Social Class The SCR provides ‘[A] more detailed analysis of the occupational profiles of different SRCs’ (‘socio-religious communities’), which ‘shows higher than aver­ age participation of Muslim workers’ in a range of non-agricultural occupations (p.  103). Considering these findings and to take forward the earlier work by Kumar et al. (2002a, 2002b) and Vaid (2018), in this chapter we use the 11-fold and 5-fold classification of social class (see Vaid for the conceptualization and operationalization of this schema including details on the construction of this schema and the tests of predictive validity conducted against wealth, income, and housing to finalize the schema (see also Vaid and Heath, 2010 for a discussion)). This classification allows us to map changes between broader occupational classes separating the agricultural from the non-agricultural occupations. For the analy­ sis, the respondent’s own class is labelled Class Destination (D) in this chapter, and the information on their father’s class is coded as Class Origins (O), which allows us to study the change and association between origins and destinations. The class distribution is shown in Table 4.3 (for the 11-class schema) and Table 4.4 (for the 5-class schema which is used when sample sizes are too small for a disaggregated analysis, see Vaid, 2018 for details).

84

Divya Vaid TABLE 4.3 Class of Respondent 11-Class Schema in the NES 2014 Data

High professionals Business Large farmers Low professionals RNM clerical Petty business Skilled manual workers Small farmers RNM service Semi-unskilled manual workers Lower agriculturalists Total

Frequency

Percent

351 812 526 528 440 280 764 1,698 303 878 2,996 9,576

3.7 8.5 5.5 5.5 4.6 2.9 8.0 17.7 3.2 9.2 31.3 100.0

Note: Business includes those establishments that have more than one employee, whereas petty business includes hawkers, vendors, and other non-permanent shops/ stalls; small farmers include farmers who possess up to 5 acres of land, and tenant farmers who have more than 5 acres of land; large farmers include farmers with more than 5 acres of land; RNM = Routine Non-Manual.

TABLE 4.4 Class of Respondent 5-Class Schema in the NES 2014 Data

Professionals Business Farmers Manual Lower agriculture Total

Frequency

Percent

1,319 1,092 2,224 1,945 2,996 9,576

13.8 11.4 23.2 20.3 31.3 100.0

Analysis The analysis in this chapter begins by looking at the association between com­ munity and social class. We ask whether Muslims – OBCs or non-OBCs – are concentrated in any particular class among the fathers of the respondents, and sepa­ rately whether this is the case for the respondents, both women and men, them­ selves. This comparison allows us to see what the changes are between the two ‘generations’.5 The chapter then moves on to studying the association between class origins and destinations for Muslim women and men. This section asks whether any particular group, OBC or non-OBC, among the Muslims has experienced more movement over one generation when respondent’s class (D) is compared to the father’s class (O). The two sections after that, on social mobility – inflow and outflow rates, look at inflow and outflow rates of mobility which captures

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

85

movement into and out of social classes. And, the next section summarizes the patterns of absolute rates of social mobility, that is the total mobility overall in percentage terms; which is followed by a section on relative mobility rates. This relative mobility is mobility net of structural change and captures social fluidity. While a major part of this chapter focuses on occupational class mobility, we also look at education in the section on Education and Social Mobility. The penulti­ mate section looks at the chance, equal or unequal, different communities have in gaining access to what might be considered a meritocratic class destination of the professions. This is especially so, given the importance education has in gaining access to these jobs. This section on occupational attainment allows us to test the significance of education along with social class origins, community, locality, and gender in gaining access to professional jobs.

Community and Class Patterns Before we begin the social mobility analysis, it is useful to see whether there is any relationship between community and social class. Vaid (2018) reported a congru­ ence at the extremes of the caste system, with a concentration of certain castes in certain classes. Do we find any such pattern with regard to Muslims when we separately look at Muslim OBCs and non-OBCs? In order to do this analysis, it is useful but not sufficient to look at the crosstabulations of class origins (father’s class) and community. This is because the crosstabulation and its significance test of chi-square tell us only whether there is any relation overall in the table; they do not tell us what the specific pattern of that relation is. In order to study the specific pattern of whether any caste/community is more closely associated to a particular class or not, it is useful to study the adjusted standardized residuals of a cross-tabulation (see also Kumar et al., 2002a). A large adjusted residual (more than 1.96; or simply, anything greater or less than 2) shows that the particular cell in question has more, or less, if it is a negative residual, peo­ ple in it than would be expected by chance alone (Vaid, 2018: 179). Figures 4.1 and 4.2 depict these residuals. Since we use the same data as Vaid (2018), the pat­ terns are similar, though in this chapter, we disaggregate and focus on Muslims. Analysing the over-representation or under-representation of various commu­ nities in different classes (Figure  4.1 for class origins and community), we find that the results for the Muslim OBCs show a statistically significant and negative adjusted residual implying there are fewer Muslim OBCs in the high professions than expected by chance (the results for low professionals are not statistically sig­ nificant). The results for the Muslim non-OBCs are not statistically significant for either of the professional classes implying there are no more or less of them in these classes than would be expected by chance alone. We find a much higher positive adjusted residual for the Hindu general castes in both the professions indicating an over-representation in these classes. Hindu STs are over-represented in the high professions but are under-represented in the low professions. Notably, there are statistically fewer Hindu OBCs in both professions and in Routine non-manual

86

Divya Vaid

FIGURE 4.1

Adjusted Residuals for Class Origins and Community

Source: NES 2014; N = 9,576.

FIGURE 4.2

Adjusted Residuals for Class Destinations and Community

Source: NES 2014; N = 9,576.

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

87

clerical (RNM clerical) work. The results for RNM clerical work are not statisti­ cally significant for OBC and non-OBC Muslims. As expected, in the two business classes, we see a strong over-representation of Muslims – OBC and non-OBC – though there are marginally more Muslim OBCs in the business ownership and more non-OBC Muslims in Petty Business. The Hindu general castes are the only other category with an over-representation in business but not petty business. All other groups are under-represented in business. Muslim OBCs are over-represented in skilled and semi and unskilled work, whereas non-OBC Muslims are over-represented in skilled work alone. In contrast, Hindu OBCs are over-represented in skilled but under-represented in unskilled work. Other Hindu groups are under-represented in skilled work, and all except Hindu SCs are under-represented in unskilled work as well. In the RNM service class, there are statistically fewer non-OBC Muslims. Regarding farm ownership, there are fewer Muslims than we would expect; this also holds for low-agricultural labour, though the results for Muslim non-OBCs are not statistically significant. Following this analysis, we turn now to look at the concentration or absence of any such concentration in the relation between class destinations (respondent’s own class), rather than origins, and community (see Figure 4.2). Muslim OBCs are under-represented in both high and low professions as compared to Hindu general castes who are over-represented. No pattern is seen for non-OBC Muslims. There is an over-representation in big business, but not petty business for the Muslim OBCs, while Other Muslims or non-OBCs are over-represented in petty business but not in business. Hindu OBCs are over-represented in business ownership as well but not in petty business. Muslims are under-represented in farm ownership (even more so for OBC Muslims in small farming), though there is no signifi­ cant over or under-representation in agrarian labour. The patterns here are like those of Hindu SCs and STs who are also under-represented in farm ownership. However, unlike Muslims, Hindu SCs and STs are over-represented in agrarian labour. In skilled work, Muslims are generally over-represented; however, this is stronger for the OBC Muslims. In unskilled work, Muslim OBCs and Hindu SCs are over-represented. Figures  4.1 and 4.2 together show us a pattern of under-representation of Muslims across generations (i.e. in both origins and destinations) in the profes­ sional classes (especially for Muslim OBCs), an over-representation in business for Muslim OBCs for both origin and destination classes, but not for non-OBCs. Also, while for the class of origin, Muslim OBCs were over-represented in both business ownership and petty business, among the respondents themselves they are no longer over-represented in Petty Business. Non-OBC Muslims are over­ represented in both origins and destinations in Petty Business. They remain over­ represented in skilled work and under-represented in unskilled work in both class of origin and destination. The overall patterns show us the concentration in specific occupations, which supports previous literature especially the Sachar Report. We now move on to the comparison of the extent of change between origins and destinations.

88

Divya Vaid

Class Origins and Class Destinations The first stage of studying change over time is to observe whether there has been any change in the occupational distribution or the social class profile over a genera­ tion and to what extent. Table 4.5 provides figures in this regard from the analysis of the 2014 NES. As mentioned previously, the origin distribution indicates the father’s profile of the respondents in the data, and the destination distribution indi­ cates the respondent’s profile. There are a number of comparisons that are possible from this table. TABLE 4.5 Profile – Origin and Destination Distributions of Muslim Women and Men,

NES 2014 Data  

Muslim OBC

Muslim non-OBC

Origin Distribution Column %

Men

Women

Men

Women

High professional Business Large farmer Low professional RNM clerical Petty business Skilled Small farmer RNM service Semi-unskilled Low agriculturalist N Index of dissimilarity (Δ) M-W origin Destination Distribution Column % High professional Business Large farmer Low professional RNM clerical Petty business Skilled Small farmer RNM service Semi-unskilled Low agriculturalist N Index of dissimilarity (Δ) M-W Origin

1.1 12.9 4.4 1.3 4.1 3.7 10.2 18.1 2.4 12.6 29.2 459

– 5.3 7.4 2.1 – 3.2 6.4 8.5 3.2 14.9 48.9 94 26.7

2.4 9.9 4.2 2.4 5.1 4.2 8.7 18.5 0.6 11 33.1 335

– 7.3 3.6 3.6 5.5 5.5 9.1 5.5 – 7.3 52.7 55 22.9

1.7 13.5 2.4 3.3 4.6 3.7 19.2 11.1 4.1 12.4 24 459

1.1 8.5 4.3 2.1 – 3.2 12.8 7.4 6.4 7.4 46.8 94 27.0 Muslim non-OBC 13.9 25.5

2.4 12.2 1.8 6.0 5.4 5.7 13.7 13.4 0.9 10.4 28.1 335

3.6 – 1.8 10.9 3.6 – 12.7 7.3 7.3 9.1 43.6 55 28.5

Origin-destination men dissimilarity (Δ) Origin-destination women dissimilarity (Δ)

Muslim OBC 14.4 13.1

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

89

First, looking specifically at men, when we compare Muslim OBC men with Muslim non-OBC men, we find that there are more non-OBC Muslims in the father’s generation who were in the professional classes including RNM clerical work, than Muslim OBCs. A  similar pattern holds for the respondents genera­ tion as well. Second, fewer non-OBC Muslims are in manual work (skilled and unskilled), as well as in business (large and petty) than Muslim OBCs, across origins and destinations. Third, more Muslim OBCs are in large farming, though that is not the case for small farming or agricultural labour where we see more non-OBC Muslims. When these figures are compared to the national average including all religions (see Vaid, 2018: 128), we find that among men the figures for non-OBC Muslims, where professional classes are concerned, are closer to the national average (while the figures for the Muslim OBCs are much lower); in fact, they exceed the national average for RNM clerical work (as do Muslim OBCs). In the respondent’s gen­ eration (the destination class), while the figures for high professions are below the average, those for lower professions exceed the national average. In terms of the business classes, Muslims (either OBC or non-OBC) exceed the national average in both parent’s and respondent’s generations. Where manual work is concerned, Muslims exceed the national average for both skilled and unskilled work. Finally, with respect to farming, as owners, Muslims are substantially below the national average, while for agriculture labour they are close to the average (especially the Muslim non-OBCs) for both generations. Moving on to the figures on Muslim women (it is important to note that the figures on parent’s are for the father’s and not the mother’s class due to small sam­ ple sizes), we find: first, women with fathers who are in higher professional work do not themselves seem to work (hence they have no self-reported class) and are not part of the sample; however, interestingly, more women than men are in the higher professional class themselves for the Muslim non-OBCs, which reflects the national average pattern as well. In terms of lower professional and RNM cleri­ cal work, there are more fathers from the non-OBC than the OBC category; and there are more women in these destination classes from the non-OBC than the OBC category; in the case of low professional and RNM clerical they are substan­ tially more than the national average. While the other patterns in the origin class are more or less similar to those for men (though there are fewer small farmers and more lower agriculturalists whose daughters are employed as compared to sons), in terms of women’s own employment, there are no women in business in the nonOBC category while there is a substantial proportion of OBC women in both business ownership and petty business; and, there are fewer non-OBC Muslim women in farming as compared to the OBCs. Finally, the different measures of the Index of Dissimilarity (Δ) show us ‘the percentage of people who would have to change their positions to make the two distributions the same’ (Vaid, 2018: 131). What we can infer is that the figures are substantially higher than the national figures, indicating that both in terms of ori­ gins and destinations, there is more inequality among Muslims. This can be seen

90

Divya Vaid

especially in terms of origin classes. For instance none of the women in the sample have fathers who have been high professionals. In terms of destinations, while the figures for index of dissimilarity are higher than the national average, they are even higher for non-OBC Muslim women. Overall, we find that with regard to the OD (Δ) (bottom of Table 4.5), the figures are closer to the national figures for men, but are higher for women indicating the sex-segregated nature of the labour market, which seems to be even more segregated for Muslim women, especially non-OBC women, than for all women on average. Figure 4.3 graphs the Origin and Destination distribution difference for women and men. As discussed previously, this OD difference tells us how many more, or how many less, people are there in the respondent’s group as compared to the father’s group. There are many more non-OBC Muslim women (rather than OBC) as compared to men in high and low professionals (much more in the lat­ ter) than the father’s generation. Consequently, there are much fewer women from this category in the business classes than there are men when compared to fathers. Strikingly, there are many more OBC and non-OBC men and women in skilled work than fathers; however, there are fewer in semi-unskilled work than fathers. Finally, in farming, regardless of being farm owners or in agricultural labour, we find much fewer Muslims overall as compared to the father’s generation.

FIGURE 4.3

Origin and Destination Differences of Muslim Women and Men

Note: For details, see Table 4.5 of this chapter. Source: NES 2014.

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

91

The discussion so far seems to underline the specific nature of social class distri­ bution of Muslims, which also shows the diversity among Muslims themselves. In the next section, we move on to the analysis of social mobility rates and patterns. The particular concentration of Muslims in specific jobs and the shape of the occu­ pational distribution are expected to have an impact on rates of absolute and possibly relative social mobility.

Social Mobility – Inflow Rates There are three main ways in which we can look at rates of intergenerational social mobility in a society, and these are inflow, outflow, and total mobility rates (see Kumar et al., 2002a). Heath and Payne (2000: 262) state that inflow mobility shows us the ‘social composition’ of classes. Thus, according to Kumar et al. (2002a), these inflow mobility percentages show us ‘where people currently in the different occu­ pation classes came from. It shows us whether the classes are largely self-recruiting or have been open to an influx from other classes’ (p. 2984). To study inflow rates for Muslims, we look at column percentages of the classic mobility table where origins are placed in the rows and destinations in the columns, as shown in Tables 4.6–4.9. In the analysis of absolute and relative mobility, we employ the smaller 5-class, TABLE 4.6 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim OBC Men: Inflow Rates (Column

Percentages); NES 2014 Data Origin

Professional

Business

Destination Farmers Manual

Lower Agriculture

Total

Professional Business Farmers Manual Lower agriculture N

27.3 18.2 22.7 13.6 18.2 44

8.9 58.2 8.9 11.4 12.7 79

1.6 3.2 87.1 1.6 6.5 62

0.9 1.8 10.0 2.7 84.5 110

6.5

16.6

22.4

25.3

29.2

459

5.5 11.0 12.8 59.1 11.6 164

TABLE 4.7 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim OBC Women: Inflow Rates

(Column Percentages); NES 2014 Data Origin

Professional

Professional Business Farmers Manual Lower Agriculture N

66.7

Business

Destination Farmers Manual

54.5 33.3 3

36.4 9.1 11

81.8 9.1 9.1 11

Note: More than 20% of cells have expected count less than 5.

8.0 16.0 56.0 20.0 25

Lower Agriculture

Total

4.5 6.8 88.6 44

2.1 8.5 16.0 24.5 48.9 94

92

Divya Vaid

rather than the extended 11-class, schema due to small sample issues. Tables 4.6 and 4.7 show these rates for Muslim OBC men and women respectively; and Tables 4.8 and 4.9 show the same for Muslim non-OBC men and women, respectively. Muslim OBC men in the professional class seem to come largely from the professions themselves or from farm origins (Table 4.6), though they recruit from other classes. In disaggregated analysis in the 11 × 11 mobility table (available from the author), the low professionals are not self-recruiting with only 20% recruiting from that same class and the RNM clerical class is even less self-recruiting. The business class is highly self-recruiting with 58% coming from the same class. In the disaggregated analysis, while the business class is self-recruiting, the petty business is also fairly self-recruiting though they do not draw at all from the business owning class. This seems to indicate the barriers of movement between small and big business. The petty business class for OBC men also recruits from semi-unskilled work and from RNM clerical work. The farming classes are more or less entirely self-recruiting, 87% of farm owners are self-recruiting, and the figure is 85% for the low agriculturalists. Manual work­ ers, including skilled and semi-unskilled, are also majorly self-recruiting and they recruit least from the professional class which is to be expected. TABLE 4.8 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim Non-OBC Men: Inflow Rates

(Column Percentages); NES 2014 Data Origin

Professional

Business

Destination Farmers Manual

Lower Agriculture

Total

Professional Business Farmers Manual Lower agriculture N

39.1 15.2 26.1 6.5 13.0 46

11.7 53.3 13.3 13.3 8.3 60

2.0 2.0 86.3 2.0 7.8 51

1.1 1.1 5.3 2.1 90.4 94

9.9

14.0

22.7

20.3

33.1

335

7.1 7.1 8.3 64.3 13.1 84

TABLE 4.9 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim Non-OBC Women: Inflow Rates

(Column Percentages); NES 2014 Data Origin

Professional

Professional Business Farmers Manual Lower agriculture N

20.0 50.0

Business

Destination Farmers Manual 20.0 80.0

20.0 10.0 10

0

5

Note: More than 20% of cells have expected count less than 5.

12.5 12.5 6.3 37.5 31.3 16

Lower Agriculture

Total

4.2 95.8 24

9.1 12.7 9.1 16.4 52.7 55

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

93

For Muslim OBC women (Table 4.7), while there are fewer cases, and more than 20% of cells have an expected count of less than 5 showing many empty cells in the table, we also see a pattern of self-recruitment. The professionals come from the professional origins, business class from their own class, and from manual work; the farmers are nearly entirely self-recruiting; and manual workers recruit from the same class or from lower agriculture. The pattern for non-OBC Muslim men is fairly similar, where they are highly self-recruiting in the agricultural classes and more so than the OBC Muslims. Fur­ ther, interestingly while the professions are even more self-recruiting for non-OBC than OBCs, the disaggregated results show that non-OBC Muslims are slightly less self-recruiting in the high professionals where they seem to be drawing from the low-professionals and farming and big business class. Low professionals are marginally more self-recruiting than the OBCs and also seem to draw from the farming and business class. The RNM clerical is highly self-recruiting unlike for the OBC Muslims. The patterns of business class and manual work are fairly similar to the OBC Muslims with slightly less of the former self-recruiting and slightly more of the latter self-recruiting. For women, however, we find that there are no women in the business class for the non-OBC Muslims, and, as seen in the previous section of this chapter, no women from the sample come from the high professional origins seeming to indicate that women born into the high professions themselves do not work (at least in this sample). We find much stronger patterns of self-recruitment into classes for women than for men with a pattern roughly similar to OBC women. Finally, interestingly for women overall more than for men, we find that women recruit more from classes placed roughly hierarchically below their current position (see Vaid, 2018 for a discussion of the hierarchies in the present schema).

Social Mobility – Outflow Rates While the social composition of classes is useful to understand patterns, it is more interesting to look at where people from various origins end up. Hence, while the previous section shows us where people currently in a class come from or their origins, we now turn our attention to where people from various classes end up by looking at the row instead of column percentages of the same O-D table (Tables 4.10–4.13). According to Vaid, ‘If we look along the diagonal of an out­ flow mobility table . . ., the numbers depicted are those of the sons/daughters who followed their fathers’ footsteps occupationally’, hence the numbers we see on the diagonal are those who have been stable by following their fathers, and those above and below the diagonal are the ones who have been mobile (2018: 141; see also Kumar et al., 2002a). For Muslim OBC men, there are much higher numbers (nearly a majority in all cases) on the diagonal than off the diagonal indicating that more men from all ori­ gins stay in the same class category. These figures are highest for the manual work class and for agriculture. While those from business origins stay in business (60% of the sample), within the business class itself, when disaggregated, we find that a

94

Divya Vaid

few of those from petty business move onto big business, however the reverse is not true, with no movement from big business to petty business. Those from profes­ sions move into other classes much more, but within the professions on disaggrega­ tion men stay in their class or move to classes lower in the hierarchy, while no one from low profession moves to high professions or vice versa. Those from the RNM clerical origins end-up in a range of occupations placed both above and below it hierarchically, including into the low professions and business classes. For non-OBC men, there are slightly higher numbers who are on the diagonal for most classes indicating higher class stability as compared to OBC men (except for manual work). These figures are highest for manual work, agricultural labourers, and business in that order. In the disaggregated analysis, the high professionals stand out since those from high professional origins seem to enter the business class more rather than stay within the professions. For women,6 both OBC and non-OBC, we find a higher proportion on the diagonal. As previously mentioned, there are no women from high professional origins among the OBCs. The patterns for the non-OBC women are similar; however, women from business class origins do not end up in the business class themselves showing that business inheritance is stronger for men than for women (and stronger for OBC than non-OBC women). TABLE 4.10 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim OBC Men: Outflow Rates (Row

Percentages); NES 2014 Data Origin

Professional

Business

Destination Farmers Manual

Lower Agriculture

N

Professional Business Farmers Manual Lower agriculture Total

40.0 10.5 9.7 5.2 6.0 9.6

23.3 60.5 6.8 7.8 7.5 17.2

3.3 2.6 52.4 0.9 3.0 13.5

3.3 2.6 10.7 2.6 69.4 24.0

30 76 103 116 134 459

30.0 23.7 20.4 83.6 14.2 35.7

TABLE 4.11 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim OBC Women: Outflow Rates

(Row Percentages); NES 2014 Data Origin

Professional

Professional Business Farmers Manual Lower agriculture Total

100.0

Business

Destination Farmers Manual

75.0 4.3 3.2

17.4 2.2 11.7

60.0 4.3 2.2 11.7

Note: More than 20% of cells have expected count less than 5.

25.0 26.7 60.9 10.9 26.6

Lower Agriculture

N

13.3 13.0 84.8 46.8

2 8 15 23 46 94

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

95

TABLE 4.12 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim Non-OBC Men: Outflow Rates

(Row Percentages); NES 2014 Data Origin

Professional

Business

Destination Farmers Manual

Lower Agriculture

N

Professional Business Farmers Manual Lower agriculture Total

54.5 14.9 15.8 4.4 5.4 13.7

21.2 68.1 10.5 11.8 4.5 17.9

3.0 2.1 57.9 1.5 3.6 15.2

3.0 2.1 6.6 2.9 76.6 28.1

33 47 76 68 111 335

18.2 12.8 9.2 79.4 9.9 25.1

TABLE 4.13 Intergenerational Mobility Table for Muslim Non-OBC Women: Outflow

Rates (Row Percentages); NES 2014 Data Origin

Professional

Professional Business Farmers Manual Lower agriculture Total

40.0 71.4

Business

Destination Farmers Manual 20.0 80.0

22.2 3.4 18.2

9.1

40.0 28.6 20.0 66.7 17.2 29.1

Lower Agriculture

N

11.1 79.3 43.6

5 7 5 9 29 55

Note: More than 20% of cells have expected count less than 5.

TABLE 4.14 Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates (Total %) in NES 2014 Data

Hindu SC (1624) Hindu ST (922) Hindu OBC (3329) Hindu general (1860) Muslim OBC (553) Muslim non-OBC (390) Other (898)

Stable

Upward Mobility

Downward Mobility

U/D

72.8 82.2 71.6 68.1 67.3 68.7 66.0

18.3 10.7 20.2 22.4 17.2 20.2 23.3

8.9 6.7 8.4 9.6 15.7 11.6 10.6

2.06 1.60 2.40 2.30 1.10 1.74 2.20

Note: N in brackets; five-class schema used.

Social Mobility – Total Mobility Rates The picture of stability in certain classes that we saw in the previous sections can be further expanded by looking at the overall patterns of social mobility. These rates of mobility can be calculated from the O-D cross-tabulation or mobility table by studying the table percentages rather than the row and column percentages. The rates of mobility are displayed in Figure 4.4 for the overall sample and Figure 4.5 for patterns by gender (the corresponding tables are Table 4.14 for the overall sample and Tables 4.15–4.16 by gender).

96

Divya Vaid

TABLE 4.15 Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates for Men (Total %) in NES 2014

Data

Hindu SC (1174) Hindu ST (596)* Hindu OBC (2408) Hindu general (1451) Muslim OBC (459) Muslim non-OBC (335) Other (635)

Stable

Upward Mobility

Downward Mobility

U/D

70.3 80.3 69.1 67.3 65.8 69.6 66.9

20.8 12.0 22.2 22.8 17.8 19.5 21.6

9.9 7.6 8.7 9.9 16.3 11.1 11.4

2.10 1.58 2.55 2.30 1.09 1.76 1.89

Note: N in brackets; five-class schema used. * More than 20% of the cells have an expected count of less than 5.

TABLE 4.16 Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates for Women (Total %) in NES

2014 Data

Hindu SC (450) Hindu ST (326)* Hindu OBC (921) Hindu general (409) Muslim OBC (94)* Muslim non-OBC (55)* Other (263) *

Stable

Upward Mobility

Downward Mobility

U/D

79.5 85.6 78.4 71.1 74.5 63.6 64.1

11.8 8.4 14.9 27.4 14.0 23.6 27.0

8.7 5.8 6.6 7.3 11.7 12.6 8.9

1.36 1.45 2.26 3.75 1.20 1.87 3.03

Note: N in brackets; five-class schema used. * More than 20% of the cells have an expected count of less than 5.

We find the highest overall intergenerational stability for the Hindu STs fol­ lowed by the SCs and the Hindu OBCs and the lowest for the ‘Other’ community category. Muslims lie somewhere between these extremes. Muslim non-OBCs show marginally more inter-generational stability than Muslim OBCs overall. In terms of upward mobility, non-OBC Muslims have more upward mobility and display more U/D, that is upward over downward or net upward mobility, than OBC Muslims though the highest upward mobility is experienced by the Hindu general category. Disaggregating these figures by gender, we see that non-OBC Muslim men are more inter-generationally stable, and those who are mobile are more upwardly mobile and less downwardly mobile than the OBC Muslims. The highest downward mobility overall is for Muslim OBCs. Muslim OBCs along with Hindu STs are least likely to experience more upward over downward mobility among men. Turning to women, the patterns are different, with substantially less stability among non-OBC Muslim women who also experience substantially more upward (behind Hindu general castes and other communities) and also margin­ ally more downward mobility (displaying the highest downward mobility of all

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

FIGURE 4.4

97

Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates: Full Sample (Total %)

Note: NES 2014; N in brackets.

FIGURE 4.5

Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates for Women and Men (Total %)

Note: See Tables 4.15 and 4.16 for details. Source: NES 2014.

98

Divya Vaid

women) than their OBC counterparts. However, the lowest U/D or net upward mobility is for Muslim women from the OBC category showing nearly the same upward and downward mobility. Overall, we find that women are generally inter-generationally more stable than men – a finding that is quite different from what is found in most developed countries on which studies have been done (which has been discussed in Vaid, 2018 as well). However, OBC Muslim women are even more stable than OBC Muslim men, and non-OBC women are much less stable than men showing the difference within Muslims. When the figures for absolute social mobility are disaggregated by locality rather than gender (Tables 4.17–4.18),7 we find that the lowest intergenerational stability among the rural sample is for the Muslims (and Others) which is the opposite for urban areas where Muslims have the highest stability and hence the lowest mobil­ ity rates. Muslims in both rural and in urban India show more downward mobility than all other groups and hence display the lowest U/D rates. These findings of inflow, outflow, and total mobility together provide a picture of limited opportunities for Muslims in social mobility terms.

TABLE 4.17 Rural – Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates (Total %) in NES 2014

Data

Hindu SC (1325) Hindu ST (881)* Hindu OBC (2735) Hindu general (1338) Muslim (668) Other (671)

Stable

Upward Mobility

Downward Mobility

U/D

75.4 83.4 74.2 71.5 70.0 69.8

16.9 10.1 17.6 20.4 17.1 20.9

8.0 6.6 8.1 7.9 12.3 8.9

2.11 1.53 2.17 2.58 1.39 2.35

Note: N in brackets; five-class schema used. * More than 20% of the cells have an expected count of less than 5.

TABLE 4.18 Urban – Religion and Caste – Absolute Mobility Rates (Total %) in NES 2014

Data

Hindu SC (299)* Hindu ST (41)* Hindu OBC (594) Hindu general (522)* Muslim (275)* Other (227)*

Stable

Upward Mobility

Downward Mobility

U/D

60.9 58.6 59.2 59.4 62.6 55.0

25.3 29.1 31.8 27.4 20.8 29.3

13.7 12.1 9.0 13.2 16.9 15.5

1.85 2.40 3.53 2.08 1.23 1.89

Note: N in brackets; five-class schema used. * More than 20% of the cells have an expected count of less than 5.

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

99

Relative Mobility Patterns While the total mobility rates give us a sense of the absolute rates of mobility, it is also of interest to enquire whether the relative rates of mobility vary by religion and caste. Relative rates are the rates of mobility net of structural change. For instance, these rates are net of the mobility that may be caused by the reduction in agricul­ ture or manufacturing which may push people out into expanding occupations/ classes. Relative rates of mobility are calculated on the same inter-generational mobility tables we have discussed but by fitting a series of log-linear models (see Breen, 2004 for a discussion) instead. These models test whether the pattern of change in terms of origin and destination association across community is the same or whether a particular community experiences more, or less, social fluidity. A society (or a community or group) with higher social fluidity would be the one where the OD association is weaker, implying that people are able to leave class origins. The log-linear models are shown in Table 4.19 disaggregating the models by gender. The complete Independence model is the base model which postulates that Origins, Destinations, and Community are independent of each other. In other words, if this model fits the data, we could say that people achieve their destinations irrespective of their origins and their community which would be a society with perfect mobility. Based on the model fit parameters (see Breen, 2004 for more on these models and their interpretation), this model does not fit our data for women or for men (and misclassifies over 48% of the cases as shown by the Δ). Moving on to the next model which is of conditional Independence, we postulate that Origins and Destinations vary by community but are independent of each other. These models also do not fit the data (and misclassify over 45% of the cases). The penultimate model of Common Social Fluidity (CmSF) postulates that there is an OD association that is common across community. This model fits the data better and misclassifies fewer cases (3.8% for men and 5% for women). The final model of uniform difference (unidiff) tests whether the strength of OD association is weaker or stronger for any one community. For both women and men, this is our preferred model in terms of over-all model fit including the BIC (Bayesian Information Criterion). What this tells us is that the OD association does indeed vary by community. Now in order to study how this varies – that is, what are the patterns of social fluidity or relative mobility – we look at the unidiff parameter estimates as displayed in Figure 4.6. In this figure, the bar for Hindu SC is set to 1, and any bar that is above 1 shows that the OD association is stronger for that group displaying more stability over a generation than for Hindu SCs, and any bar below 1 shows that the OD association is weaker for that community, that is it shows more mobility or social fluidity over a generation. Muslim and Hindu OBCs show the most social fluidity for men (Muslims more than Hindus). Muslim non-OBC men show more inter-generational stability. For women, it is the two Muslim groups that show the most fluidity or weakest OD association along with the Other religious group. While this shows us that

100 Divya Vaid

FIGURE 4.6

Unidiff Parameter Estimates Origin, Destination, and Community, NES 2014

Note: See Table 4.19 for model fit

TABLE 4.19 Loglinear Analysis (Class Origin, Class Destination, Community), NES 2014

Data

Men

Women

G2

d.f

P

∆

bic

Complete Independence O, D, C Conditional Independence OC, DC CmSF (OD) Unidiff

8932.70

160

0.000

47.91

7514.79

7715.56

112

0.000

45.42

6723.02

155.48 142.86

96 90

0.000 0.000

3.76 3.62

-695.26 -654.72

Complete Independence O, D, C Conditional Independence OC, DC CmSF (OD) Unidiff

3569.78

160

0.000

51.36

2316.79

3147.90

112

0.000

48.26

2270.81

149.65 137.55

96 90

0.000 0.000

5.13 4.75

-602.15 -567.26

Note: N Men = 7,058; N Women = 2,518; O = Origins (5); D = Destinations (5); C = Community (7).

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

101

there is more relative fluidity for Muslims, when combined with the absolute mobility figures earlier, they seem to indicate that this mobility is not necessarily in the upward direction, and Muslims experience both upward and downward mobility, particularly the Muslim OBCs who are more downwardly mobile than the non-OBCs. When we compare our results disaggregating Muslims to previous work that included Muslims but did not disaggregate them, we find not only some similarities but also differences. In agreement with Vaid (2018: 200), we find that [U]pper castes seem not to be protected from downward mobility (especially women), but there are hints that SC, OBC, and ST women may have dif­ ficulty in gaining mobility (both upward and downward) as we observe a stronger origin-destination association for these groups, which indicates that they have a harder time leaving their class origins behind. Women from the Muslim community, both OBC and non-OBC, show greater fluidity as mentioned earlier. However, in comparison with previous work, we find that Hindu OBC and SC men and those from the Muslim OBC group have a weaker association between Origins and Destinations which would imply that they have not only chances of upward mobility, but also greater chances of downward mobility (a finding supported by the absolute mobility findings). This is interesting, since Muslim men from the non-OBC category display about the same amount of stability as the Hindu general group.

Education and Social Mobility While the previous sections have helped establish an overall pattern of intergenera­ tional social class mobility and immobility, we turn now to the role that education plays. Education has been seen as an important pathway to social mobility (see Breen and Müller, 2020; Vaid, 2016). While this chapter does not focus exhaus­ tively on education, an attempt is made to understand how education varies by caste and community over time and to look briefly at patterns of intergenerational educational mobility.

Education and Community Figures  4.7 and 4.8 show how educational attainment for different commu­ nities has changed over time (for men and women, respectively), using the proxy of birth-cohorts to indicate time. The first birth-cohort refers to those born in the 1950s, and the last birth cohort (labelled 4 in the figures) refers to those born in the 1980s who would have been aged 25–34 years at the time of the 2014 survey. The patterns throw up certain expected findings and certain unexpected ones.

102 Divya Vaid

FIGURE 4.7

Level of Education for Each Community by Birth Cohort – Men, NES 2014

Note: Numbers 1 to 4 refer to Birth Cohorts where 1 = those born in the years 1950–59, 2 = those born in the years 1960–69, 3 = those born in the years 1970–79, 4 = those born in the years 1980–89; middle = middle school; intermed = those with higher education but without a college degree; non-lit = non-literates.

FIGURE 4.8

Level of Education for Each Community by Birth Cohort – Women, NES 2014

Note: Numbers 1 to 4 refer to Birth Cohorts where 1 = those born in the years 1950–59, 2 = those born in the years 1960–69, 3 = those born in the years 1970–79, 4 = those born in the years 1980–89; middle = middle school; intermed = those with higher education but without a college degree; non-lit = non-literates.

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

103

For men (Figure 4.7), a higher proportion of Hindu general castes have college education across birth-cohorts, with more than 30% of the youngest cohort hav­ ing college education. Hindu STs have the lowest proportion of men with college education. Muslim non-OBCs have higher college proportions for those born in the two middle cohorts, which is bypassed by the Hindu general castes alone. However, Muslim OBCs have consistently lower proportions than non-OBCs in college education (and the lowest of all groups for the oldest cohort), and these figures are approximately similar to Hindu SCs for the two middle cohorts, who seem to bypass the Muslim OBCs in the youngest cohort. At the other end of the scale of education where non-literates are concerned, Hindu general castes have the lowest proportions with no literacy across the years, and the Hindu SCs and STs have the highest, though decreasing over time, propor­ tions in this category. Among the Muslims, the non-OBC category has marginally fewer men with no literacy than the OBC category. And, there is a consistent reduction in the non-literate category across birth cohorts for both groups. Overall, the picture is one where Hindu general category has consistently higher proportions in intermediate to college education, and higher proportions from Hindu SC and STs are in lower levels of education, with lower proportions in higher education. For Muslims, the non-OBC category has higher proportions in intermediate and above education when compared to Muslim OBCs; however, there are more Muslim OBCs in matriculation and middle school. When we turn to the figures for women we find, as compared to men, there are more women in lower levels of education or without education than men across categories. For college education, women from the Other castes and religions had the highest proportion for the oldest cohort, but this was replaced in the 1960s cohort by Hindu general castes. Women from the Muslim non-OBC category were absent in higher education including college and intermediate education for the first three cohorts and bypass the Muslim OBCs in the youngest cohort for college education, but not for intermediate education where there are higher pro­ portions of women from the OBC category. For non-literates, there is a sharp decline for all women across the years, especially for Muslim non-OBC women who had the highest proportion of non-literates in the first cohort and have one of the lowest in the youngest cohort showing a reversal over time. Overall, Mus­ lim women had proportions similar to the Hindu SCs and STs, bypassing them in higher education. From this discussion, we find that while levels of education are increasing across all groups for both women and men, the patterns within the Muslims are distinct. Non-OBCs seem to show a higher proportion in higher education and an increase over time in this regard for women especially. Similarly, for the non-literate cat­ egory as well, there are fewer non-OBC Muslims than OBCs.

Educational Mobility As discussed previously, social mobility can be studied by looking at intergen­ erational movement between different strata including class. If we look at another

104

Divya Vaid

form of social mobility, that is through education, we get an interesting picture of the experiences of Muslims. Looking at inter-generational movement between origin education (in this case the respondent’s father’s and mother’s education) and destinations (the respondent’s own education) gives us a sense of how the expansion in education has impacted Muslims. Table 4.20 provides the figures for father to son/daughter movement in terms of education; and Table 4.21 provides the same for mother to son/daughter movement. These figures are table percent­ ages from a cross-tabulation, similar to the analysis conducted on social class in the previous section. The first and fourth rows of both tables show the figures for the overall sample that includes all communities. The other rows display the figures for Muslims specifically.8 Beginning with Table  4.20, we find much less inter-generational stability in terms of education than we did in terms of class, showing that children do seem to leave their parental education levels behind more than they do occupational class origins. This is clearly due to the expansion in education across the past few decades. However, we continue to find community-based differences in these pat­ terns. Women show higher stability, and less upward mobility, generally than men do in comparison to both parents (Tables 4.20 and 4.21). In Table 4.20, all groups TABLE 4.20 Education Mobility Rates – Respondents (Women and Men) and Fathers

(Total %) in NES 2014 Data

All men (6,930) Muslim OBC men (451)* Muslim non-OBC men (321)* All women (2,433) Muslim OBC women (94)* Muslim non-OBC women (55)*

Stable

Upward Mobility

Downward Mobility

U/D

27.3 26.2 33.7 46.5 45.8 43.6

68.2 71.1 60.6 46.2 45.9 48.9

4.4 2.5 5.5 7.2 8.5 7.3

15.50 28.40 11.12 6.42 5.40 6.70

Note: N in brackets; * More than 20% of the cells have an expected count of less than 5.

TABLE 4.21 Education Mobility Rates – Respondents (Women and Men) and Mothers

(Total %) in NES 2014 Data

All men (6,901) Muslim OBC men (448)* Muslim non-OBC men (321)* All women (2,436) Muslim OBC women (94)* Muslim non-OBC women (55)*

Stable

Upward Mobility

Downward Mobility

U/D

21.8 22.8 24.3 43.0 46.8 39.9

76.7 75.2 73.1 55.4 52.3 58.0

1.2 1.7 2.4 0.7 1.1 1.8

63.92 44.23 30.46 79.14 47.54 32.22

Note: N in brackets * More than 20% of the cells have an expected count of less than 5.

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

105

show much higher upward than downward mobility highlighting the impact of educational expansion generally, though women display marginally more down­ ward mobility (especially OBC Muslim women) compared to their fathers than do men. Muslim OBC men show the most mobility, especially upward mobility, educationally than all communities on average and compared to non-OBC Mus­ lim men who show less upward mobility educationally than the national average. Among women, the patterns are reversed, where women from the Muslim nonOBC castes are more likely to be upwardly mobile and show higher than average for women upward over downward mobility (6.7% as compared to the average of 6.4%) when compared to their fathers. Moving on to the comparison of mother to son/daughter movement educa­ tionally (Table 4.21), we find overall that respondents are more upwardly mobile when compared to their mothers than fathers which is not surprising, given the low rate of education for women in previous decades. Looking at Muslim women, we find a similar pattern for Muslim OBC men who have a higher than average social mobility than their mothers, as they did for fathers as well, but interestingly their rates of upward mobility are lower than for the overall average for all com­ munities. Hence, the U/D rate for the inter-generational comparison of sons with their mothers shows that the average rate is higher than that for Muslims. For women, similarly the overall average rates of upward and U/D are higher than for Muslims, and while non-OBC Muslim women display more upward mobility than OBCs, the U/D rate is higher for OBC Muslim women than non-OBC when compared to their mothers due to the higher downward mobility rates for the Muslim non-OBCs as well. In terms of education, we find that the results show us a picture slightly differ­ ent than we saw in terms of occupational class, especially as in terms of education, OBC Muslims seem to show more educational mobility than non-OBCs.9 This finding requires further analysis especially linking it to the outcome of occupa­ tional class.

Occupational Attainment In the final part of the analysis, we turn to study the barriers or absence of barriers that Muslims in India face where access to the professional classes is concerned. The reason for looking at the professions is driven by the discussion around merit as evidenced by the role education rather than ascription is expected to play (Vaid, 2018, see also Kumar et al., 2002a). In this regard, the professions would be where merit is likely to be more visible rather than, say for example, access to the business class or farm ownership where inheritance may play a more direct role. In Table 4.22, we look at access to the professions (which includes high and low professions and RNM clerical occupations). To enable us to have an over-time per­ spective, the sample is divided in quasi-birth cohorts, that is those that were born in four decadal cohorts allowing us to distinguish between the older respondents (those born since the 1950s) and the younger ones (those born in the 1980s as

106 Divya Vaid TABLE 4.22 Logistic Regression Models for Access to Professional Occupations over Birth-

Cohorts, NES 2014 Data Cohort 1: Born 1950–59

Cohort 2: Born 1960–69

Cohort 3: Born 1970–79

Cohort 4: Born 1980–89

B

B

B

B

SE

Constant −2.036* 0.270 Women −0.543* 0.159 Rural −0.384* 0.155 Class of Father Professional 0.977* 0.277 Business 0.101 0.310 Farm 0.141 0.239 Manual −0.374 0.314 Lower agriculture −0.845* 0.322 Community/Caste Hindu SC 0.532 0.389 Hindu ST −1.204 0.957 Hindu OBC 0.295 0.312 Hindu general 0.046 0.326 Muslim OBC −0.913 0.908 Muslim non-OBC 0.805 0.636 Others 0.440 0.399 Education Graduate and 1.690* 0.277 above Intermediate/ 0.833* 0.311 non- degree Matriculation 0.573* 0.268 Middle school −0.790 0.453 Up to primary −0.563 0.295 Non-literate −1.743* 0.398 Goodness of Fit Nagelkerke R2 0.366 Model Chi­ 181.347/17 d.f. Square/d.f. (sig.) (0.000) Total/N 1,012

SE

SE

SE

−1.724* −0.310* −0.095

0.154 −1.890* 0.122 0.121 −0.415* 0.092 0.111 −0.056 0.099

−1.547* 0.095 −0.338* 0.074 −0.296* 0.077

2.046* −0.324 −0.310* −0.547* −0.865*

0.197 1.819* 0.153 0.243 0.001 0.189 0.166 −0.441* 0.154 0.223 −0.739* 0.217 0.188 −0.639* 0.158

1.846* −0.240 −0.390* −0.445* −0.770*

0.137 0.147 0.121 0.135 0.128

−0.057 0.271 0.136 0.194 0.787* 0.308 0.301 0.261 0.390* 0.190 −0.123 0.159 0.137 0.199 −0.157 0.176 −1.314* 0.521 −0.803* 0.388 0.173 0.388 0.246 0.345 −0.117 −0.287 0.400 0.218

0.068 0.292 −0.134 0.030 −0.230 −0.192 0.165

0.153 0.205 0.122 0.139 0.243 0.255 0.185

2.121*

0.196

1.976* 0.162

1.868* 0.122

0.786*

0.212

0.551* 0.171

0.560* 0.136

0.164 −0.620* −1.102* −1.349*

0.191 0.267 0.166 0.240 −0.626* 0.215 0.233 −0.850* 0.211 0.254 −1.318* 0.240

0.447 461.277/17 d.f. (0.000) 1,675

0.389 522.56/17 d.f. (0.000) 2,329

−0.050 −0.408* −0.849* −1.121*

0.150 0.172 0.192 0.247

0.427 834.324/17 d.f. (0.000) 2,825

Note: Main effect model only; model uses deviation contrasts; significant parameters (*) are more than twice their standard error (SE).

discussed in the previous section). Similar to Vaid and Heath (2010), Vaid (2018) and Kumar et al. (2002a), we fit a series of logistic regressions using deviation contrasts since the outcome is whether one has a professional occupation or not (coded 1 or 0 respectively). Deviation contrasts allow us to compare the parameter estimates against the average rather than any particular reference category that is left out of the model. The coefficients and their standard errors are displayed in the table, and the odds ratios from the models are also interpreted (though not shown in the table). The various controls used are gender (where women are coded 1

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

107

and men 0), locality (where rural is coded 1 and urban 0), class of origins or class of father (using the collapsed 5 class category), community/caste separating seven categories also disaggregating Muslims into OBC and non-OBC, and, finally, edu­ cation by using an ordinal variable with six categories. The overall models are displayed by cohort rather than as step-wise models. According to the model-fit, all four cohorts fit the data. We find that women as compared to men are less likely to have access to professional classes across all cohorts, and, for two of the cohorts (the oldest and youngest), those from rural areas are less likely to gain access to the professions than those from urban areas controlling for all other variables. Across all cohorts, those from professional class origins are more likely to gain access to the professional class even when controlling for community and for edu­ cation. Conversely, those from the agricultural classes and from manual work are less likely to gain access to the professions over most of the cohorts. There is no statistically significant advantage or disadvantage of belonging to the business class. When we turn to community parameter estimates, we find that apart from the Hindu-SC and OBC born in the 1960s who have an advantage in access to the professions, no other group has any statistically significant results among the Hin­ dus and Others. For Muslims, it is the OBCs who have, over two cohorts, a disad­ vantage in gaining access to the professional class even when controlling for fathers’ class and education, whereas the results for non-OBCs are not statistically signifi­ cant. Finally, turning to education, we see, as expected, that having an intermediate and above education has a decided advantage in gaining access to the professions, while having a middle school and below education has a decided disadvantage. Overall, we find that while some communities have a disadvantage (Muslim OBCs) in gaining access to professions, class of origin and education level make an impact on professional destination which is consistently statistically significant across cohorts supporting previous studies (see Vaid, 2018). Hence, education clearly matters, but so does class origin even when controlling for community.

Conclusion We began this chapter with certain expectations from previous research – especially that there are low rates of social mobility in India generally and that Muslims experience less upward mobility overall and that they experience an additional disadvantage in gaining access to certain classes such as the professions. Using the NES 2014 data by disaggregating the patterns of mobility for Muslims into OBC and non-OBCs, we find some support for our expectations and some deviations, especially when we compare the categories within Muslims. Further, in contrast to previous work, this chapter has also been able to explore patterns of educational mobility in some detail. Muslims overall have higher rates of social mobility than Hindu castes; however, importantly higher social mobility is not necessarily a positive outcome, since Mus­ lims seem to experience more downward mobility and lower rates of upward over downward social mobility intergenerationally than Hindu castes and the ‘Other’ community group. There is an important caveat to this finding since Muslim OBCs are the worst off of all groups (for women and men) in terms of net upward

108 Divya Vaid

mobility; however, non-OBC Muslims perform better than Hindu STs for women and men. These results are supported by the findings of the relative mobility analy­ sis thus indicating that treating Muslims as a homogeneous group doesn’t show us the complete picture of complexity and change. This finding has important policy ramifications which are beyond the scope of this chapter to pursue. In terms of education, we find that OBC Muslims have experienced some mobility, and this is different from the experiences of the non-OBC Muslims. However, this mobility in education terms has not translated into occupational mobility yet. Particularly in access to the profession class, we find a decided disad­ vantage experienced by OBC Muslims as compared to the average. While we have looked at a possible measure of objective class which has been tested in previous studies against a range of other measures such as asset ownership and income, we have not looked at people’s subjective understanding of class. The NES 2014 data does not have a question on subjective class measure, but it does have a variable about the present economic position of the household. The ques­ tion asked is ‘As compared to five years ago, how is the economic condition of your household today – would you say it has become much better, better, remained same, become worse or much worse?’ Muslims in 2014 overall were more likely to say that their economic position has improved in the previous five years and that this figure is higher for the Muslim OBCs. Conversely, Muslims were also less likely to say that their situation was worse, and OBC Muslims were even less likely to say this than general category Muslims. When we contrast this ‘subjective’ experience to what could be termed more ‘objective’ absence of mobility among Muslims, or lower rates of mobility in class terms (and to an extent in terms of education), it throws up a puzzle. This puzzle requires disentangling in further research.

Acknowledgements: I thank the Lokniti Programme for Comparative Democracy at the Centre for the Study of Developing Societies, New Delhi for access to the 2014 NES data.

Notes 1 While geographic mobility can play an important role in social class mobility, due to the absence of requisite data, we are unable to explore that further in this chapter. 2 A mobility table is a cross-tabulation of origins and destinations, where origins (placed on the rows) are indexed by respondent’s parent’s class and destinations (the columns) by respondent’s own class. 3 OBC refers to those who are listed in the Other Backward Classes list in various states. SC refers to those on the Scheduled Caste list, and ST to the Scheduled Tribe list. 4 We are only able to look at fathers since the sample size for mother’s occupational infor­ mation is not sufficient for a disaggregated analysis (see Vaid, 2018). For the analysis on educational mobility, we are able to look at mother’s data as well. 5 It must be stressed that the ‘fathers’ in the data are the fathers of the respondents, and since this initial analysis is not considering the age of respondents (though age is consid­ ered in some of the birth cohort analysis), these fathers may be at varying stages of their lives. This should however not be problematic since it is believed that people achieve ‘occupational maturity’ in their thirties (Erikson and Goldthorpe, 1992: 71), which may

Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers

6 7 8 9

109

well be earlier in India, and so we would be capturing more or less the fathers’ final destinations. Due to small sample size issues, the tables for women should be read with caution. These figures are for a combined Muslim category due to small sample sizes in this analysis. As in some previous cases, the small sample size precludes us from claiming definitive conclusions, but the results overall allow us to indicate a possible pattern. This may also be due to ceiling effects where certain groups may have reached the higher/highest levels of education and for the next generation retaining position or sta­ bility is the important goal and not upward mobility.

References Asher, Sam, Paul Novosad, and Charlie Rafkin. 2021. ‘Intergenerational Mobility in India: New Methods and Estimates Across Time, Space, and Communities’. Available online at https://paulnovosad.com/pdf/anr-india-mobility.pdf (accessed July 2021). Attewell, Paul and Sukhadeo Thorat. 2010. ‘Caste Is Not Past: The Persistence of Dis­ crimination in India’s Formal Labor Market’, in Miguel Angel Centeno and Katherine S. Newman (eds.) Discrimination in an Unequal World, pp. 244–255. New York: Oxford University Press. Breen, Richard (ed.). 2004. Social Mobility in Europe. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Breen, Richard and Divya Vaid. 2008. ‘Inequality in Educational Attainment in India – A  Birth-cohort Approach’. Presented at the International Sociological Association’s Research Committee on Social Stratification and Mobility’s (RC 28) meeting, Stanford University, California, August. Breen, Richard and Walter Müller (eds.). 2020. Education and Intergenerational Social Mobility in Europe and the United States. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Erikson, R. and J.H. Goldthorpe. 1992. The Constant Flux: A  Study of Class Mobility in Industrial Societies. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Heath, A.F. 1981. Social Mobility. London: Fontana Paperbacks. Heath, Anthony and Clive Payne. 2000. ‘Social Mobility’, in A.H. Halsey and J. Webb (eds.) Twentieth-Century British Social Trends, pp. 254–278. Basingstoke: Macmillan. Iversen, Vegard, Anirudh Krishna, and Kunal Sen (eds.). 2021. Social Mobility in Developing Countries: Concepts, Methods, Determinants. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Jaffrelot, Christophe and Laurent Gayer. 2012. Muslims in Indian Cities: Trajectories of Margin­ alisation. New York: Columbia University Press. Kumar, S., A. Heath, and O. Heath. 2002a. ‘Determinants of Social Mobility in India’, Economic and Political Weekly 37(29): 2983–2987. Kumar, S., A. Heath, and O. Heath. 2002b. ‘Changing Patterns of Social Mobility’, Economic and Political Weekly 37(40): 4091–4096. Taylor, Christopher B. 2015. ‘Madrasas and Social Mobility in the Religious Economy: The Case of Nadwat al-’Ulama in Lucknow’, Samaj: South Asia Multidisciplinary Academic Journal 11. 932. Vaid, Divya. 2016. ‘Patterns of Social Mobility and the Role of Education in India’, Con­ temporary South Asia 24 (3): 285–312. Vaid, Divya. 2018. Uneven Odds: Social Mobility in Contemporary India. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Vaid, Divya and A.F. Heath. 2010. ‘Unequal Opportunities: Class, Caste and Social Mobil­ ity’, in Anthony F. Heath and Roger Jeffery (eds.) Diversity and Change in Modern India: Economic, Social and Political Approaches, pp. 129–164. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

5 IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN AND LAND Muslims of Mangalore Shaunna Rodrigues

Introduction This chapter looks at the Muslim middle class in Coastal Karnataka as shaped by a longue dureé analysis of different Muslim communities in the region. It will examine how networks across the Indian Ocean, formed through the port town of Mangalore over the course of more than a millennium, act as the backdrop to any analysis of an influen­ tial Muslim middle class in contemporary India’s Konkan Coast, also known as Kanara. The historical forces shaping the Muslim middle class in this chapter emerge not from land-based, territorial formations alone. Rather, this chapter extends the structures shaping the middle class to the port, ocean, and oceanic networks by undertaking a spatial reordering of the analysis of relations of social mobility, Mus­ lims, and the middle class in coastal Karnataka. The first section of this chapter looks at how the cosmopolitanisms of the Indian Ocean port and Islam created linked universalisms,1 even in places that were once small coastal towns, like Mangalore. These linked universalisms allowed for diverse migrant communities from different edges of the ocean to settle down in the coast of Mangalore as Muslims. The continuity of these universalisms across oceanic networks is assessed through the movement of one commodity of trade in particular – coffee – to understand the role of this commodity in shaping relations of social mobility for Muslims. Treating this commodity as an agent of commercial as well as social formation of the middle class, I assess how trading practices, which emerged from oceanic networks of trade, came to establish the foundations for the emergence of a prosperous and thriving Muslim community and the contemporary Muslim Middle Class in the region. In doing so, it seeks to draw an alternative and longer genealogy to the emer­ gence of a stable Muslim middle class in the region than the popular ‘gulf remittance’ narrative, as well as that of a middle class formed by the liberalization policies of the contemporary Indian state, both of which have dominated analyses of the prosper­ ity of Muslims in the region. DOI: 10.4324/9781003280309-8

In the Middle of the Ocean and Land

111

The Port and Islam as Universalisms in the Indian Ocean World As many have argued, space, as a concept, is socially constructed and discursively imagined (Hofmeyr 2019). The construction and imagination of space has constantly relied on both its materiality and availability for mobility. Coastal zones occupy a complex terrain in the construction and imagination of space. In the vocabulary of the literature on Oceanic studies, this terrain has constantly been marked by complex ideas of ‘overlapping circuits,’ ‘multidimensional networks,’ ‘interconnected hubs and nodes,’ and ‘interregional arenas.’ However, one grounded site that marks a centre of this complex terrain, more than anything else, is the port – its functions, technolo­ gies, linkages, and expansion, forming a multi-layered space from which to think about circuits, networks, hubs, and nodes linking the ocean and sea to the land. The port lends us a situatedness to thinking about the networks that came to be formed through long-distance trading circuits across the oceans. In particular, the trade circuits shaped around the alternating monsoon winds in the Indian ocean region, blowing from the North East between November and April, and from the South West between June and October, found in the port not just a site of anchorage from the ocean, or a space of trade as exchange, but also a site of stor­ age and transhipment (Polanyi 1963); innovation in shipping technology, storage and harbour engineering, customs and imports (Hofmeyr 2018); and transmission of ideas, religion, and law (Bose 2009; Ho 2006; Tagliacozzo and Toowara 2016; Prange 2018). Further, the port has been studied not just for its urban dimensions, as paving the ocean, but also for the commercial networks that link it, not just to the maritime sphere, but also to the interior highlands. Much of the historical literature on the Indian Ocean that reflects on the uni­ versalism that the ocean mediated notes how pre-colonial trade in the region was not backed by the existence of a state. In contrast, the emergence of colonial trade carried out by the Portuguese, Dutch, and English in the Indian Ocean brought the power of modern empires and their militaries with them (Ghosh 1992; Ho 2006). However, even prior to the armed roving of modern maritime empires, the Indian Ocean provided an arena for forms of universalisms to emerge. Islam, in its various and contested meanings, emerged as one such universal­ ism. It was adopted, practised, and circulated by several traders, pilgrims, schol­ ars, and administrators across the Indian Ocean, as a form of culture, belief, and law. Further, its substantive form in terms of empirical structures and practices emerged in association with the port town, a form of space which acted as another kind of universalism across the Indian Ocean (Hofmeyr 2007). Trade networks enabled by the regular monsoon across the Indian ocean came to be consolidated and promoted by the spread of Islam from the 8th century onward. Port cities in these networks – Dar es Salam, Zanzibar, Mombasa, Jeddah, Aden, Mocha, Surat, Bombay, and cities in the Malabar – adopted Islam as a prevail­ ing idiom of their public life, promoting different kinds of travellers. Besides the usual tradesmen, these networks had pilgrims, scholars, and administrators who

112

Shaunna Rodrigues

travelled across the Indian ocean, both transacting in goods and ideas and forming a vehicle of sorts for Islam to become the grammar of cosmopolitan exchange and mobility (Fawaz and Bayly 2002; Kearney 2004; Prange 2018; Risso 1995).

Mangalore as the Port City Mangalore was one such port city. If not the central node in this circuit, this port city acted as important entrepôt within the pre-colonial Indian ocean circuit. An entrepôt, or a transhipment hub, is where a commodity gains an immediate ware­ house before it changes ships – a junction of sorts. In working as an entrepôt, Mangalore came to function as what Karl Polanyi conceptualized as a port-of-trade (Polanyi 1963). It was capable of dealing with the security requirements of trade, it contained an administration for the procedures of competition, and its local inhabit­ ants provided organs for mediation and accountancy in the region (Ibid; Ichlangod 2011). Commercial profit of the state was not a priority, and the town’s interest was more fiscal, relating to customs, duties, port fees, and other items of revenue rather than trade itself (Hussain 1976). As many who have mined the records of trade in the region, which exist from the 9th century onwards in collections such as the Geniza documents (Chakravarti 2000; Ghosh 1992) have shown, vessels arriving on the Kanara coast were exempted from tolls and customs to encourage commercial link­ ages between harbours on this oceanic circuit. Not only did this facilitate commer­ cial exchange, it also enabled exchanges between differently situated modes of life. As a port-of-trade, Mangalore facilitated free access, commercial infrastructure, secure rights to land for foreign, mostly Arab, traders who established semi-permanent set­ tlements on the coast, and an impartial administration of justice (Ichlangod 2011). As a space in the middle of ocean and land, Mangalore also had networks extending into the interior land, including a narrow strip of coastal plains striped with rivers, as well as the fertile highlands of the Western Ghats. A related institu­ tion of a quasi port-of-trade, usually to be found on the border of two ecological regions, in Mangalore’s case, the low table-land of the coastal plains of the West Coast of Karnataka, and the hilly region of the Western Ghats bordering the Dec­ can, could be found in the towns of Bantwal, Moodbidri, and Gangooly, each navigable through rivers that provided a major conveyance to commercial activities (Ichlangod 2011). Thus, Mangalore became the urban, commercial, and intellec­ tual centre for a larger region on land by the coast, stretching from Kasargode or Kozhikode in Kerala to the south, to Kundapura, Udupi in the north, as well as to inland regions like Chickamagalur or the Chandragiri Hills in the Western Ghats.

The Muslims of Mangalore As is well-known in the popular memory of the city, Mangalore has been a major trading port for over 1,300 years. Over thirteen centuries ago, Moor trading com­ munities started settling around the Mangalore harbour. Those who first arrived as Arab/Moor traders mingled with local people, especially women, and set up semi­ permanent trading posts in the port, while they waited for a year, or a year and a

In the Middle of the Ocean and Land

113

half, for oceanic winds to favour return voyages (Ichlangod 2011; Prange 2018). Over time, this community grew into a group who cohabited with the locals of the area, settled there as a local community themselves, and came to develop their own language which was a mix of local languages and is, today, known as Beary. While this community included some Jews, the majority of the traders anchoring in Mangalore adhered to Islam (Ghosh 1992; Ho 2009; Ichlangod 2011; Prange 2018). The Beary community began to grow through a multi-sided process of trade, marriage, migration, conversions, royal encouragement, and missionary dissemi­ nation of Islamic ideals. Lower caste groups in the area, predominantly Koragas, Mansas, and Billavas, converted to Islam in search of employment opportunities which were forbidden to them under caste rules imposed by brahmin dominance and the local Jain feudal leadership (Thurston 1909). Local chiefs like the Choutas and Bangas played an important role in this by encouraging lower caste men to convert to Islam and become part of the Bearys so that the rules of untouchability could be undermined by such a conversion when they manned ships (Ichlangod 2011). Several Sufi saints, some who were local and some who travelled by the Arabian Sea and arrived at the port, also came to influence a number of inhabitants of the port city. Ibn Battuta visited Mangalore and reported the meetings of several Arab theologians in the Malabar on his way there from Mangalore (Hussain 1976). The next group of people who adhered to Islamic ways of life to settle in Mangalore were Mappilla Muslims from Kerala. This community always had close ties with the Bearys due to the shared influence of Sufi figures in the region. The dar­ gahs of these Sufis became places which were revered as repositories of their barakat, of pilgrimage and devotion, aiding the spread of Islam in the region (Prabhu 2015). Other Muslim trading communities, like the Konkani-speaking Nawayaths, came to the region from Basra in Iraq and settled in the areas around Bhatkal towards the north of Mangalore in the 13th century (D’Souza 1955). Dakhni-speaking Mus­ lims arrived and settled in the region closer to the Western Ghats during the reign of the Bahamanis in the 14th century. Gujarati-speaking Memons and Borahs came during the colonial period also settled in Mangalore city.

Winds of Exchange and Mobility in People, Commodities, and Ideas All these communities became an integral part of the region from the 7th century onwards through networks built across the Indian ocean for over a millennia. Interest­ ingly enough, it was the monsoon winds, which extended across the Indian ocean causing the monsoon, which acted as a structural force that shaped the port city, and its surrounding region. The Indian Ocean’s monsoons enabled structures of exchanges and interactions that shaped networks across the coasts it connected. It worked as a link that fostered interaction, exchange, and relationships across vast distances. In what has been defined as ‘Monsoon Asia’ and ‘Monsoon Islam’, a domain of scholarship on the Indian Ocean examines how persistent maritime corridors were created by the wind system of the south-west monsoon across the Indian ocean, forming a natural space for mobility and trade on the ocean, which could favour

114

Shaunna Rodrigues

the long-distance movement of people, commodities, languages, and ideas. The monsoons enabled structures of exchange and interaction that shaped networks across the coasts they connected. It is this ecological force which permitted the city to connect the subaltern aspects of itself to the global in a way not available to many cities in mainland India (Fernández-Armesto 2006; Prange 2018). Many argue that a single trade circuit spanning from Egypt to western India existed until the 18th century, when colonial trade caused ruptures, leading to intersecting networks of trade controlled in the north by the Ottomans and in the south by western Indian commerce (Um 2009). This circuit, which is in many ways the real protagonist of Amitav Ghosh’s ethnographic narrative In an Antique Land, had several entrepôts, including Mangalore with its harbour, godowns, trad­ ing concessions, and semi-permanent settlement for traders. As Ghosh notes, through evidentiary letters exchanged between a Jewish tradesman – originally from contemporary Tunisia – who had moved his business from Cairo to Manga­ lore, and his associates across the Persian Gulf and Egypt, it was the practice of most merchants from the Yemen and Persia to disembark at the Mangalore port. While Ghosh’s ‘history in the guise of a traveller’s tale’ is based on events taking place in the mid-12th century, other travelogues also note the importance of Mangalore in this circuit. Ibn Battuta, the Moroccan traveller, visited Mangalore in 1342 ad. His route of entry into the port city was through a smaller port slightly north of Mangalore city called Basrur, where he saw Muslim merchants from Yemen and Persia (Ghosh 1992; Hussain 1976; Ichlangod 2011). The Portuguese sailor Duarte Barbosa visited Mangalore in the 16th century and noted that the city’s merchants included ‘Arabs, Persians, Guzarates, Khorasanys and Decanys’ and that the ships coming to the area included those from Ormiz, Aden, and Zuber (Ibid). While this is the evidence of the circuit provided by visitors from the outside, the memory and presence of the oceanic circuits continue to be strong within the popular memory and everyday form of dwelling in contemporary Mangalore as well. In this mode of dwelling, Islamic thought and practice developed among the Muslim communities of the Indian ocean region, and of Mangalore in particular, not through conquest or through the ruling classes like sultans, nor through the transmission of Islamic juridical traditions, but through the merchants of Muslim trading communities and their commercial imperatives. Their particular subjectiv­ ity in the trajectory of Islamic history as it intersects with the history of the Indian Ocean enabled not just trade, but also the non-material transfer of Islamic ideas across this oceanic space (Prange 2018). Muslim communities of the region such as Bearys, Nawayaths, and Maplas were, thus, principal agents in shaping the social ecology of Islam in this region of India. This process was shaped by the interaction of ‘ordinary’ Muslims with nonMuslims in the region, an interaction which played a crucial role in developing specific Islamic norms and practices on the coast. Islam was never a fixed, mono­ lithic entity within the larger oceanic circuit that Mangalore is a part of. Rather, local receptions and understandings were and continue to be crucial to its historical development. The larger transnational historiography on the pre-colonial networks

In the Middle of the Ocean and Land

115

of the Indian ocean argues that political entities like modern states were less a part of this oceanic circuits’ commercial networks and nodes. However, local histories of the region argue that an atmosphere for Islam to grow in the region was cre­ ated because of the political and socio-economic concerns that a place that held a unique space, like a port city between the ocean and land, enforced on its rulers (Ichlangod 2011). As mentioned before, with the rise of orthodox Brahmanism in the region in the medieval period, many lower castes in the region, such as the Koragas, the Billavas, and the Mansas, converted to Islam in order to escape the label and experience of being untouchables and gained access to economic opportunities that sea-borne commerce carried out by Muslim traders allowed them (Ichlangod 2011). These castes contributed to the figure of the ship-owner that makes many appearances in Arabic and Persian texts on commercial trade in the Indian Ocean from the 9th century onwards. The shipowner functioned as a powerful officer, combining administrative and commercial roles. The wealth derived from shipping operations was instrumental to his administrative office. The coastal craft which plied along the Kanara coast during the medieval period was the vehicle that this shipowner used to build and expand his world around his site of dwelling in a port city like Mangalore.

From Mecca to Macau In Mangalore, the pasts through which older Muslim communities of the region came to be have been transmitted through pāddanas or folk songs of the region. In many of the pāddanas that still thrive in Mangalore city, one of most popular is the Bobbārayya Pāddana, a folktale about a Muslim trader who transformed himself into a daiva or deity. Bobbārayya was a son of a Muslim trader and Jain woman, who converted to Islam. His story is captured in the poignant Pāddana based on his life, replicated here by the noted historian of Mangalore, Surendra Rao’s translation (Rao 2015): Into the ship they filled all the rice and paddy there was. They tightened the ropes of the ship. They set the mast upright. They observed the direction of the wind and opened the silk sail and, driven by the wind-speed, they trav­ elled to southern countries. They traded at Mecca and Maccayee [Macau]. They anchored in another island. Then they went to Cochin and traded there. It is now one year and six months since they left their homes. But by this time they had made enough profit in gold, pearls, rubies, diamonds, opals and so on. (V. Rai 1985) Rao argues that the image of Mecca in the Pāddana presents itself as purposefully Islamic to indicate the authenticity of Bobbārayya as a Muslim who, while turning towards Mecca, also turns around to the East China Sea (Rao 2015). Bobbārayya,

116

Shaunna Rodrigues

thus, acts as a symbol of Islamic forms of dwelling in the port city of Mangalore. His very existence as a this-worldly deity, whose shrines that are built facing the sea and are regularly visited by Muslims of the region, is a mark of the peculiarity of Islamic worldmaking in this port city. Bobbārayya constantly appears in various songs, symbols, stories, and a whole variety of meaning and sense-making tradi­ tions, as always Muslim, and therefore, for the people of Mangalore, definitively Islamic, but also definitively local, familiar, and intimate, demonstrating how the port that is Mangalore was made into a place of dwelling, imbued with Islamic ways of being, while simultaneously also shaping such ways of being. Even with the Islamic reformism that is occurring in Mangalore today, Bobbārayya retains a strong local presence. In my conversations with women from Beary communities, his name came to be invoked when discussing Beary tradi­ tion. In comparing the traditions of Bobbarāya with the impact of new move­ ments that claim labels of salāfism for themselves, one respondent, whose name I have changed to Nafisa here said ‘one is for speaking and talking, the other is for reading and in books,’ the first being Bobbārayya, and the other being the considerably small Salāfi institutions in Mangalore. In considering Islam as a lived tradition, and as a historical phenomenon, as Shahab Ahmed would urge us to do (Ahmed 2015), in Mangalore, Bobbārayya becomes the figure through whom Islamic communities in the port town relate to the ocean, oceanic net­ works and circuits, and their identity shaped by pasts of interconnectivity across this oceanic circuit. These pasts of networks and circuits seem to shape the ways of being and becom­ ing for the Muslim middle classes of Mangalore as much as the structures that have been imposed on the group since the institution of modern political institutions and laws. In 1939, the colonial government codified new interpretations of Islamic law to meet the specific needs of heterogeneous communities of the region under the Mapila Marumakkatayam law. Despite this codification, and the trajectories that Muslim personal laws have taken in tandem with the operation of the modern state in the region, Muslims in Mangalore continue to evoke saints who came to be called local daivas or deities to define and identify themselves. This has helped them resist the conversion of modes of knowledge, dwelling, and networks that they inhabit into expertise, structures, and laws by which the modern state rules them. In the process, they assert their millennium-old claim over Mangalore as dār-al Islām or as an abode of Islam.

Imperial Shifts and the Trade in Coffee As in the case of the Malabar Coast, the expansionist moves of inland rulers in the pre-colonial period, as well as those of the European commercial powers in the colonial period, gave a great degree of adaptability to the different mercantile groups in the southern Kanara region littered with maritime commercial centres. Muslim traders, who had among them the commonality of Islamic ways of being, developed

In the Middle of the Ocean and Land

117

different strategies to overcome Portuguese control systems to ensure continuity in their trade (Malekandathil 2007) and the social and economic power they wielded as a consequence of their long history of influence among circuits of the Indian ocean. All accounts of the arrival of the Portuguese demonstrate how intent they were on supplanting Muslim traders in the Indian ocean circuits of trade, often directly attacking Muslims and their local patrons in port cities (Ho 2009; M. Rai 2003). Before the Portuguese and British arrived, Muslim traders engaged in the trade of a variety of goods. The Bearys and Nawayaths controlled trade in rice and spices, while the Dakhnis undertook trade in horses, silk, and jari works. Their trading ships also transported people who travelled to Mecca on the Haj. Their trading activities ranged from highly organized long-distance commerce to simple local trade. Muslims worked in alliance with non-Muslim traders on the coast. They often acted as intermediaries between Arab traders and other local, usually Jain merchants in the region (Ichlangod 2011). The rise of Muslim trade in the south­ ern Kanara, thus, also helped the Jain merchants to secure their trade and labour required to run the same. A network of peddling traders who served as grass-root­ level distributors and collection agents of products produced inland for merchants involved in long-distance trade on the ocean became the inland foundation of the oceanic circuits of trade on the Kanara coast. These traders, predominantly from the Beary community in the region of Tulunadu, used river-based transport for their own trade, carrying cargo and passengers from the port to villages on the quasi-entrepôt areas, and returned with goods to the port. Muslim communities, thus, also came to settle near river banks, along the Nethravathi river up to the towns of Bantwal and Panemangalore (Ichlangod 2011). Like the Jain trade guilds or Sanghas, the Muslims of the region had their Han­ jamanas through which Muslim traders intervened in local politics, and associated with local chiefs through a constant process of gift-giving (Ibid), and thus gained social mobility and influence within the city (Ichlangod 2011). These Hanjumana, or as they are known today as Anjuman, continue to exist till today, but they suffered a severe blow in their influence with the arrival of the Portuguese who specifically targeted them. While several smaller battles resulted in victories for the native rul­ ers backed by Muslim traders in the region (Ibid), Muslim traders gained real relief and an enlarged capacity to trade only with the arrival of the British, as competitors to the Portuguese, on the coast of Tulunadu in the mid-18th century. With the rule of Hyder Ali in the following decades, and his son Tipu Sultan, the region saw its first instance of direct Muslim rule. Local Muslims promised them their coopera­ tion and in turn received trading privileges. This was also the period in which the region around Mangalore saw a big influx of Muslims from the Deccan, who were induced by the Sultans to settle in Mangalore by giving them money in advance to do trade. This was also the period when Kutchi Memons from Gujarat came to this region and set up masjids in the area. These Muslims predominantly followed Hanāfi schools of jurisprudence, which were different from the predominant Shā’fi forms of jurisprudence adopted by the sea-borne traders of the region. This lent

118

Shaunna Rodrigues

a creative impulse to debates and discourse on shari’ā in the region, but the larger Islamic community remained a largely unified block on political and commercial matters (Ichlangod 2011; M. Rai 2003). With the defeat of Tipu Sultan in 1799, the British took advantage of the devel­ opmental work which Haider Ali and Tipu had put into expanding the Mangalore harbour, attempting to favour Muslim merchants to the advantage of the British East India Company. They strengthened the infrastructure around the harbour, allowing the Hanjumana to invest in its infrastructure, while appropriating their rev­ enues (M. Rai 2003). The location, establishment, working of the port, mercantile importance of the city, and its merchant communities and guilds were recognized, but proposals for the improvement of the port were only implemented towards the end of colonial rule in India. However, most groups continued to occupy the same areas of the city that they did prior to colonial rule. Most of the Muslim merchants in the area lived in Bun­ der, Bolar, and Kudroli areas. Many describe the houses they built there as palatial mansions (Doddamane 1993; Ichlangod 2011; M. Rai 2003). Many of these mer­ chants purchased lands in places around Mangalore as well or invested in reclaiming land from the moving backwaters. Families from the inland regions like Udyavara, Manjeshwara, and Malabar were brought into the city to enable the business of the merchants in the area and settled into the reclaimed land. Thus, a whole network of Muslim traders and the people who worked for them was created in the region. While modern trading and export from the port city of Mangalore initially occurred in a variety of spices, coconuts, and rice, the British replaced these products with coffee in the mid-19th century. The next section of this chapter will show how networks around the port, built and expanded on by Muslim communities in the Konkan region, along with non-Muslim agents, made coffee into a universally consumed commodity.

Caffeinated Routes Coffee was brought to India, and in particular to the slopes of the Western Ghats accessible from the sea through Mangalore, by a Sufi named Baba Budan in the 16th century. Local memory narrates the story as one of bravery and great exer­ tion, speaking of how Baba Budan, originally from Chickmaglur in the Western Ghats, left for the Haj at a time when the area was under attack from different local fiefdoms, leaving his followers in the caves of Chandragiri. On his way back from the Haj, Baba Budan acquired raw coffee beans at Yemen and smuggled them back to Mangalore on a dhow returning to the port through the Arabian sea. When he returned, he planted the beans on the slopes of the Chandragiri hills, today popu­ larly known as Baba Budangiri. The small plantations of coffee which resulted from Baba Budan’s journey across the Arabian Sea were discovered by the British chap­ lains who accompanied the British collector of the region, Sir Thomas Roe. It was in the early 1840s that the British began to invest in the commercial cultivation of coffee in the region (Haraniya 2017).

In the Middle of the Ocean and Land

119

With coffee becoming an important cash crop in the region, the British increas­ ingly began to depend on Muslim merchants to transport coffee produced from the Ghats to the port in Mangalore. In the 1870s, a powerful merchant and Han­ jumana leader, Abubakr Beary, began to control trade in coffee. In 1893, he was conferred the title of ‘Khan Bahadur’ by the British (Doddamane 1993). Other coffee merchants who were conferred this title included Bail Iddinabba Beary, Haji Ali, and Habbali Hameed Saheb (M. Rai 2003). Haji Abdulla Ali Sait and Abubakr Beary were also the first to be nominated as Muslim Councillors of the Mangalore Municipal Council. Dada Haji Ebrahim Halari, another major coffee exporter, started the Kanara Chamber of Commerce (M. Rai 2003) which brought together a network of traders around the old Mangalore port in Bunder to enable their com­ mon commercial interests. While the coffee estates in the Ghats were predominantly owned by the British, and are today owned predominantly by Gowdas, Lingayats, and Christian com­ munities, those who handled the movement of the coffee from the Ghats to the rest of the world were Muslim merchants whose networks of trade existed for over a millennium. Muslim merchants from the areas around the port would bring to the coffee plantations fish, cloth, tiles and construction material, and sometimes even alcohol from the port in exchange for coffee. They would take back coffee to the port from where other merchants from the Muslim trading communities, who in the colonial period came to be patronized by the British colonial govern­ ment, would export them to other entrepôts like Aden or Canton from where the coffee was transported to West Asia and Europe – predominantly Italy, Belgium, and Japan. It was through this local but complex network built around the port town of Mangalore that the global commercial networks of trade in coffee and its consumption originated. It is this relationship of trade, built through coffee, or more specifically the movement of this coffee from the ghats to the port of Mangalore, and then from the port across the ocean, which gave the Muslim trading communities on the coast a boost in the reach of their influence. For starters, the coffee estates in the Ghats were further inland than the estates of other commodities like rice, pepper, and spices, which were predominantly grown on the coastal belt. Coffee was also a rare commodity, whose demand came from places farther flung in the oceanic world, such as Japan and Italy. It was grown directly by British planters in the initial colonial period of its conversion into a cash crop, enabling Muslims greater interaction with some British citizens settled in India, and through them the ruling colonial state in the region. As a more expensive product that was sold across the British empire, and other modern empires as well, it brought in larger profits and lent Muslim merchants who transported it both a higher status as well as greater influence in the region and across oceanic circuits of trade. Using this influence, Muslim merchants began to occupy positions in the municipal institutions set up by the colonial government in the 20th century. They used age-old customs of gifting the government with donations for the small mod­ ernizing projects that the colonial government carried out in order to not only gain

120

Shaunna Rodrigues

greater access to products, like coffee, that they could sell via their trade routes, but also shape local life in the region. Various educational institutions were set up, beginning with the Madrasatul Badriya in 1924 and the Muneerul Islam school in 1926 to promote Islamic education in the region of Mangalore. Arabic was often a medium of instruction in these schools (M. Rai 2003), giving both Muslims and non-Muslims who attended these schools proficiency in the most cosmopolitan language of the Indian Ocean, allowing them to travel across its vast expanse and interact with those in other port towns, including in the Gulf region. The universalism of Arabic, practised either by the use of concepts grounded in the Arabic language to describe everyday life on land and the ocean, or through the mediation with modernized Islamic jurisprudential norms through which Muslims on the Kon­ kan coast could belong to a larger Islamic community, allowed for Muslims in the region to access and make a larger world beyond the local landed region of the Konkan coast.

Retaining Power in the Port Today, India exports nearly 70% of the coffee it produces to Europe, Japan, and West Asia. Karnataka is home to three-fourth of India’s coffee production. The major point of export for coffee is the port city of Mangalore, with total coffee sales today amounting to $62.4M, its next closest competitor being Cochin with a total of $9.2 M. Mangalore controls 84% of India’s coffee trade. Some of the major companies which control this export are Sana Exports, Faraz Enterprises, and Kallucoppa Coffee, all owned and run by Beary and Mappila Muslims in Mangalore whose lineages go back to the Hanjumanas formed in the medieval period in the region. These companies were incorporated in the early 1900s as exporters, and, in addition to coffee, they also export cardamom and black pepper, commodities that they have been trading in for many centuries. The manpower for these companies, the labour of transporting, loading, unloading, quality checking of the coffee, grinding, packaging, and managing its export are predominantly undertaken by members of the communities they belong to. This labour lives in the areas that they were settled in in the early 19th century when the Hanjumanas acquired and reclaimed land around the port. The coffee industry has grown in the post-liberalization phase of post-colonial India’s history. With the prices now deregulated, the price of coffee has shot up and coffee-centred businesses have boomed. The port itself drastically changed with new SEZ’s emerging around the New Port Area, displacing many of the tribal fish­ ing communities that once lived there (Cook, Bhatta, and Dinker 2013). However, the communities that were powerful enough to retain their coastal land, as well as continue to trade from the old port, were the Muslim Anjuman families and the Muslim middle classes that they patronized. This was predominantly due to the complex interplay of the spatial and historical situatedness of Muslim communities in the Mangalore port.

In the Middle of the Ocean and Land

121

If there is an appearance of a Muslim Middle Class emerging from the flows of money that coffee created in a post-liberalization market, this appearance has its roots in the growth of coffee trade through the spaces that the southern Kanara coast occupies across the Indian Ocean as well as land. Coffee’s transport from its point of produce to the point of the Port, the facilities and networks at the port that enable to it to be exported, and the long history through which oceanic trade routes were built to sell this coffee to other societies have been historically main­ tained over centuries despite all the structural changes introduced in the region by the modern nation-state. It is these connections that transformed and continue to transform coffee trade into a form of commodity power which has enabled political, social, and commercial claim making for a middle class in the region with the growth, accumulation, and expansion of modern capital in the region. Understanding the Muslim middle class in a port city like Mangalore lies in tracing how the networks that the modern industry of coffee, the capital associated with it, the vulnerabilities and opportunities it has created, and the narrow points of pas­ sage where control over the movement of coffee is particularly effective have been maintained using the universalisms emerging from the Indian Ocean.

Dwelling in the Modern Port-City Urban growth was never a serious part of colonial infrastructural expansion on the Konkan coast. However, as the Beary and Nawayath merchant communities began to earn more profit, they increasingly invested in Mangalore’s port by building their own trading, industrial, educational, religious, health, and construction institutions in the name of their communities. Through the income earned from their sea­ borne business, they bought land around Mangalore. One of the areas in which they began to invest was Kulshekar, an area populated by Christians and which overtime grew into a huge residential area because of the construction industry that Muslims and Christians jointly engaged in around the 1950s onwards. Sand and construction material were brought through the Arabian Sea from entrepôts elsewhere on the Indian Ocean by the Muslim traders. Christians brought timbre from the Western Ghats and tiles from their factories on the Konkan coast. Both the communities expanded construction and built and dwelled in huge residential colonies with a mosque on one side of the road and a church on the other. As the following generation of Christians from Kulshekar began to enter professional occupations in the medical industry using funds or education they received from the Catholic Church for this purpose, the construction industry increasingly came under the control of Muslim owners. Muslims sent their children to Christian schools to study in order to gain Christians as clients for their expanding construc­ tion business. With the pan-India economic liberalization reforms in 1990, the port of Mangalore expanded and a larger number of professionals began to come to Mangalore city. The richer groups among Muslim traders began to invest in the construction of multi-storeyed apartment complexes and malls in Mangalore. Less rich relatives

122

Shaunna Rodrigues

living inland would be allocated stores within these malls through which they mostly sold imported goods coming in from China or South-East Asia through shipped cargo brought in by others in the community. The centre of the port-city today is marked by multi-storeyed apartment com­ plexes, many of which are occupied by Muslims who have gained mobility into the middle class through the ‘mall-business’ as they call it. These malls are packed with shoppers whose consumptive practices have spatially shifted from the road­ centred old city markets to the ‘mall-businesses’. The fishing docks, also controlled by Muslim communities, supply the bulk of the fish that is sold within the city to SPAR, the extremely popular Dutch supermarket store whose franchise in all the malls of Mangalore belong to members of the Beary Muslim community. While economic capital historically built through trade on the sea is used today to build a booming real estate and retail industry on land, there is a simultaneous social, cultural, and political investment that the Muslim Middle Class is undertak­ ing in Mangalore. The most successful of these investments is the Yenapoya Group, headed by Moideen Kunhi. Established in 1957, this company started as a timber business, trading in timber imported from Malaysia, Papua New Guinea, the Ivory Coast, and Myanmar, relying on Kunhi’s Beary family networks across the Indian Ocean. Today, Yenapoya is a huge enterprise which runs one of the largest private universities and hospitals in the region, granting students within the Muslim com­ munity scholarships to become professionals. The company also engages in trans­ port, chemicals, construction, paint, food, and print industries, becoming a huge source of employment for the professionals it produces in the university. While it might seem like the old trading routes have been surpassed by busi­ nesses taking place on land, this is not the case. The investment by Muslim middle classes in businesses on land is done to gain greater support for their trade over the Indian Ocean. The supply of produce to malls, to the construction industry, to the medical industry, and even of students from Malaysia, Thailand, the east coast of Africa, and West Asia/Middle East to institutions of learning, like universities set up by the Muslim merchant communities of Mangalore, continues to take place through oceanic trade. Traders who make money through the sea contend that they are giving back to the community on land by investing in the city. The invest­ ment is done in the name of piety, arising from concern for the fate of their fellow Muslims. But piety is not the only force driving such a well-honed economic net­ work. This network is the progressive creation of time-honoured ways of maintain­ ing relations of reciprocal patronage across ocean and land. Given this, piety is not a practice that exists exclusive of economic calculation – the two are not mutually exclusive but reinforce each other.

Conclusion The Muslim Middle Class on the Konkan coast has predominantly been analysed through a short-term contemporary analysis that focuses on the impact made by immigration, particularly to countries in the Gulf, and the remittances gained from

In the Middle of the Ocean and Land

123

such immigration. However, this analysis does not consider the historical institu­ tion of the Mangalore port and the connectivity that this port lent to Muslim com­ munities in the Konkan to expand trade networks across the Indian Ocean. While many Muslims from the region did immigrate to the Gulf, lending local commu­ nities greater prosperity with the incomes they earned engaging in developmental projects in the countries they migrated to, their capacity to immigrate and secure stable incomes through immigration was and continues to be enabled by the his­ torical networks built by the merchant communities across the Indian Ocean. The remittances from immigrants and their eventual return to their home cities in and around the port city of Mangalore follow from a regular and repetitive pattern of world-making by Konkan Muslims across the Indian Ocean. Mangalore’s character as a port city at the heart of a thriving socio-economic region in the middle of a vast ocean and the land that constitutes the Indian subcontinent allows its residents to muddy the neat binaries between the local and the global, the pre-colonial and the capitalist, and the subaltern and the cosmopolitan, which have shaped multi­ disciplinary studies of this region. In paying attention to how its particular space allows for a universal imaginary of Islam, trade, and dwelling in the Konkan coast, this chapter contends that middle class life in this region ought to be studied and reflected on not just through conceptions of modern social life, but also through the historical possibilities that the people of this region made for themselves.

Note 1

On how different dimensions of the Indian Ocean, including ports and Islam, built a cosmopolitan universalism from the circulation of local languages across the Indian Ocean, see Sugata Bose, A Hundred Horizons: The Indian Ocean in the Age of Global Empire, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

References Ahmed, Shahab. 2015. What Is Islam? The Importance of Being Islamic. Princeton, NJ: Prince­ ton University Press. Bose, Sugata. 2009. A Hundred Horizons: The Indian Ocean in the Age of Empire. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Chakravarti, Ranabir. 2000. “Nakhudas and Nauvittakas: Ship-Owning Merchants in the West Coast of India (C. AD 1000–1500).” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 43(1): 34–64. Cook, Ian, Ramachandra Bhatta, and Vidya Dinker. 2013. “The Multiple Displacements of Mangalore Special Economic Zone.” Economic and Political Weekly XLVIII(33): 40–46. Doddamane, A. Wahab. 1993. Muslims in Dakshina Kannada : A Historical Study Upto 1947 and Survey of Recent Developments. Mangalore: Green Words Publication. D’Souza, Victor. 1955. The Navayaths of Kanara: A Study in Culture Contact. Dharwar: Kan­ nada Research Institute. Fawaz, Leila, and C.A. Bayly. 2002. Modernity and Culture: From the Mediterranean to the Indian Ocean. New York: Columbia University Press. Fernández-Armesto, F. 2006. Pathfinders: A  Global History of Exploration. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

124

Shaunna Rodrigues

Ghosh, Amitav. 1992. In an Antique Land: History in the Guise of a Traveller’s Tale. London: Vintage. Haraniya, Krutika. 2017. “The Curious Case of Coffee.” livehistoryindia.com. www.livehistoryindia. com/cover-story/2017/05/19/the-curious-case-of-coffee (September 19, 2019). Ho, Engseng. 2006. The Graves of Tarim: Genealogy and Mobility across the Indian Ocean. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Ho, Engseng. 2009. “Custom and Conversion in Malabar: Zayn al-Din al-Malibari’s Gift of the Mujahidin: Some Accounts of the Portuguese.” In Islam in South Asia in Practice. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 403–409. Hofmeyr, Isabel. 2007. “The Black Atlantic Meets the Indian Ocean: Forging New Para­ digms of Transnationalism for the Global South – Literary and Cultural Perspectives.” Social Dynamics 33(2): 3–32. https://doi.org/10.1080/02533950708628759. Hofmeyr, Isabel. 2018. “Colonial Copyright, Customs, and Port Cities: Material Histories and Intellectual Property.” Comparative Literature 70(3): 264–77. Hofmeyr, Isabel. 2019. “Imperialism Above and Below the Water Line: Making Space Up (and Down) in a Colonial Port City.” Interventions 22: 1032–1044. https://doi.org/10.1 080/1369801X.2019.1659172. Hussain, Mahdi. 1976. The Rehla of Ibn Battuta (India, Maldive Islands and Ceylon) Translation and Commentary (Gaekwad’s Oriental Series No 122). Oriental Institute, Baroda. Ichlangod, B.M. 2011. The Bearys of Tulunadu. Mangalore: Karnataka Beary Sahithya Academy. Kearney, Milo. 2004. The Indian Ocean in World History. London: Routledge. Malekandathil, Pius. 2007. “Winds of Change and Links of Continuity: A Study on the Merchant Groups of Kerala And the Channels of Their Trade, 1000–1800.” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 50(2/3): 259–286. Polanyi, Karl. 1963. “Ports of Trade in Early Societies.” The Journal of Economic History 23(1): 30–45. Prabhu, Alan Machado. 2015. Slaves of Sultans. Mangalore: ATC Books. Prange, Sebastian. 2018. Monsoon Islam: Trade and Faith on the Medieval Malabar Coast. Cam­ bridge: Cambridge University Press. Rai, Mohankrishna. 2003. Urbanization of Mangalore: A  Colonial Experience (1799–1947). Mangalore: Department of History, Mangalore University. Rai, Viveka. 1985. Tulu Janapada Sahitya. Bangalore: Kannada Sahitya Parishat. Rao, B. Surendra. 2015. “Images of Trade and Traders in Tulu Folklore.” Studies in People’s History 2(1): 41–53. Risso, Patricia. 1995. Merchants and Faith: Muslim Commerce and Culture in the Indian Ocean. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Tagliacozzo, Eric and Shawkat M. Toowara. 2016. The Hajj: Pilgrimage in Islam. New York: Cambridge University Press. Thurston, Edward. 1909. Caste Tribes of Southern India, Vol II. Madras: Government Press. Um, Nancy. 2009. The Merchant Houses of Mocha: Trade and Architecture in an Indian Ocean Port. Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press.

6 THE OLD AND THE NEW MUSLIM MIDDLE CLASS Classificatory Practices and Social Mobility Tanweer Fazal

Introduction This chapter examines the nature of the formation of the middle class and the emerging pattern of social mobility among India’s Muslims. Palpably, liberaliza­ tion prompted a substantial swelling in the ranks of the middle class in India. An expanding middle class thus marked the success story of India’s adoption of the free market economy. Various kinds of evidence were cited to buttress this point, such as declining poverty ratios, increased preference for English education and the mushrooming of private schools, boosting of entrepreneurship, new social groups in the middle class, and diversity in the social origins of the members. The National Council of Applied Economic Research (NCAER) based its estimates on the household income survey and discovered that the size of the middle class households swelled nearly three times from 10.7 to 28.4 million between 2001–02 and 2009–10 (Shukla 2010: 100). Krishnan and Hatekar calculated the middle class on the basis of per capita daily expenditure (between 2 and 10 $ a day) and recorded an ‘astonishing change’ in India’s class composition. In absolute size, the middle class nearly doubled: from 304 million (30%) in 2004–05 to 604 million (50%) in 2011– 12. While there was a marginal increase in all sections of the middle class, the bulk of the expansion was led by the lower middle class counted at between 2 $ and 4 $ a day per capita expenditure. The social composition of the new middle class was set for a massive overhauling too. While the upper castes continued to dominate the middle class, there was a significant entry of the lower castes and the Muslims in the changing class composition, they concluded (Krishnan and Hatekar 2017: 42–43). In contradistinction, it is argued that post-liberalization, retrenchments in the public sector, stillness in the manufacturing units, increasing mechanization, etc., have led to an actual impoverishment of sections of the middle class. Using an assetbased assessment of the middle class in India, Krishna and Bajpai present a rather dismal picture. The growth of the middle class in the initial decades of liberalization DOI: 10.4324/9781003280309-9

126

Tanweer Fazal

could be ‘tapering off’ in more recent years. Thus, it is ‘fragility and volatility, rather than stability or continued progress’, that characterizes the new Indian middle class, Krishna and Bajpai argue (2015: 76). The social composition of the middle class too showed little to celebrate: the upper echelons of the middle class continued to be disproportionately populated by the Hindu upper castes while OBCs, SCs, STs, and the Muslims showed greater tendency to be in its lower rungs. When it comes to the discussion on Muslim middle class, the most dominant mode of thinking is to try and account for its absence. Historians have alluded to the migration pattern in the aftermath of Partition to explain a substantial shrink­ ing in the size of the middle class among Muslims (Hasan 1988, Alavi 2002). Developmental studies too have relied on post-partition migration to explain the impoverished condition of Indian Muslims and their sluggish economic mobility.1 In particular, their gross under-representation in public and private employment, absence from centres of higher and technical education, low enrolment levels in schools, minimal presence in mass media, and civil society organizations are cited as both, the symbol and cause of the Muslim decline. The chapter seeks answers to several questions that follow. Akin to the allIndia pattern, has the process of liberalization prompted a parallel expansion in the middle class among India’s Muslims? Apparently simple, the problem is intricate. For one, the middle class is itself multi-layered with managerial-level white-collar workers presumably benefitting the most out of the free market economy. By all accounts and empirical studies, Muslim presence among them is miniscule. Their presence even at the clerical level, to a certain extent, remains inadequate. A large section of the Muslims however, as Sachar Report (GOI 2006) and other empirical studies confirm, depend on self-employment for their living. How does it impact the formation of middle class identity among Muslims? The subject allows for yet another exploration, one pertaining to the social composition of India’s Muslim middle class. In a caste-differentiated Indian Muslim society, while the colonial and much of the post-colonial middle class comprised the ashraf nobility, is the new middle class socially diverse that embodies the middle caste ajlafs and the lowest arzals, thus suggesting a process of upward social mobility? Again, does the recon­ figuration of the class system among Muslims lead to the emergence of distinct symbolic practices that define boundaries, cultural distance, and acquisition of taste between different layers of the middle class? The middle class, as recent advances in sociological and historical literature sug­ gest, is not merely an economic category to be determined by indicators such as monthly consumption indicators, income levels, and educational achievements. An analysis of its cultural makeup, ideological framework, and everyday politics is far more critical in understanding the middle class identity and the constituting behavioural pattern. The erstwhile north Indian Muslim elite prided itself on being proponents of the great tradition of Urdu culture. The middle class entrenched in such a cultural milieu sought to preserve it as a signifier of its Islamic identity. How does the new middle class culturally define itself? Apart from north India, substantial Muslim population is to be found in the non-Urdu-speaking belts of the

The Old and the New Muslim Middle Class

127

East consisting of Bengal and Assam and in the southern Indian states. Presumably, therefore, material and cultural constituents of Muslim middle class have regional specificities. This chapter does not for the moment enter into regional segmen­ tation. It does ask, however, if despite its segmentation along multiple planes of language, caste, and regional planes, does the cultural constitution of the middle class demonstrate any commonality of action and purpose? Or does the multiplic­ ity of cultural identifications fragment the middle class identity among Muslims? Further, a new religiosity, centred around individual salvation and without the encumbrances of the conventional systems, has historically fascinated middle class adherents. Is there a reimagining of the ways in which to be a Muslim? The chapter relies on Bourdieu’s conceptualization of taste and distinction to comprehend non-material forms of class identity. ‘Taste’, for him, ‘is an acquired disposition to differentiate and appreciate’, to be able to ‘establish and mark dif­ ferences by a process of distinction’. They are most effective when they func­ tion below the level of consciousness and language to add values to some of the gestures such as ways of eating, talking, walking, or blowing one’s nose to mark difference between classes (Bourdieu 1996: 46). What kind of ‘classifica­ tory practices’ are deployed to maintain social distance and symbolic boundaries between old and the new, the affluent and the subaltern as well as between differ­ ent sections of the middle class? Does the middle class formation among Muslims therefore follow the material and the symbolic practices that tend to be associated with new Indian middle class? Following Bourdieu, the chapter studies through an analysis of the narratives, the distinctive ways in which individuals with diver­ gent social origins and routes of entry into the middle class vary in terms of ideas of consumption, religiosity, education and upbringing, and distinctiveness of language and cultural identity.

Middle Class: Old and New Influenced by Weber’s magnum opus, The Protestant Ethic, sociologists have also tended to study middle class values and moralities that define their class location. With the expansion in the middle class over the years, studying middle class values has helped sociologists in making a distinction between the ‘old’ and the ‘new’ middle class. Alan Wolf discerns a cultural war between the two middle classes in American society. According to him, speculation has replaced savings, production is passé, and career is the new middle class norm. The amalgamation of faith and secular modernity that old middle class was adapted to is replaced by a noticeable rise of fundamentalism and evangelism. Politics takes a rightward shift with a sense of personal entitlement overwhelming the idea of universal good or a concern for the underprivileged (Wolfe 1993: 49–64).2 In India, a new middle class post-liberalization and its shifting role in social and political process, together with its imprints on changing attitudes, lifestyles, and consumption practices, have increasingly come to demand the attention of sociolo­ gists. Beyond the obsession with size, proportion, or affluence, sociologists tend to

128

Tanweer Fazal

inject a degree of complexity to the simplistic formulation of the economist and the demographer. Several questions have followed: Is the new middle class entirely new or does its origins lie in the earlier middle class? Does the expansion of the middle class suggest the rise of new social groups hitherto outside the frame? In what ways is the new middle class different from the older one in terms of its social attitudes, cultural practices, and ideas of politics? A study of its structure indicates continuity rather than change. Its historical and social roots, according to one view, are traced to its predecessor, the older middle class that owed its existence to the state-driven economy. In terms of its social composition, it is suggested, the post-liberalization middle class is drawn largely from the ‘English speaking urban white collar segment’ of the society and therefore replicates the homogeneity of the past. Accordingly, it is argued that the middle class is not ‘new’ in terms of its structural or social basis; its newness refers to a process of production of a distinctive social and political identity that represents and lays claim to the benefits of liberalization (Fernandez 2006: xviii). Jaffrelot and Van der Veer too found that two of the major ‘mainstays’ of the Indian middle class, the ‘petty bougeoisie’ and the ‘intelligentsia’, along with other components came from the upper castes (2008: 17). This caste commonness of the middle class made them more cohesive in terms of shared values. Nonetheless, theoretically, it is not a sealed-off category, the underlying assumption being that other groups could potentially join in. For instance Upadhyaya noticed that a large majority of the software professionals were from small towns but from upper caste and affluent families though a ‘significant minority’ came from middle castes or OBCs (Upad­ hyaya 2011: 172). This turns the middle class into an aspirational one, with others imitating it in the hope of attaining social mobility. Opposed to this view are those scholars who hold that liberalization opened up new opportunities to the underclasses who could now benefit from an expanding service sector and rise of new professions. They were able to alter their fortunes and join the middle class. Different from the old middle class, the new middle class is thus proposed to be a heterogeneous one that includes diverse religious, ethnic, and caste groups. Beteille drew attention to the heterogeneous social composition of the Indian middle class, internally differentiated along the axes of language, religion, and caste, as well as stratified on the basis of income, occupa­ tion, and education (Beteille 2017: 79). Sheth (1999: 2510), based on a CSDS survey conducted in the initial years of liberalization, observed how members of the lower castes had entered the middle class in sizeable numbers. Sridharan (2008: 39) too noticed the entry of ‘non-twice born’ dominant castes as also the OBCs, SCs, STs and religious minorities in the middle class though the Hindu upper castes continued to be disproportionately more compared to their share in population. Going by Krishnan and Hatekar’s estimates, in the initial decade of India’s adop­ tion of free market economy, up till 1999–2000, a little less than a quarter of Muslim population could be considered as middle class. By 2011–12, however, the middle class proportion among Muslims along with those among SCs, OBCs,

The Old and the New Muslim Middle Class

129

and Hindus in total swelled significantly. Notably, though, the percentage increase among Muslims (20.9 percentage points) was much lesser when compared with SCs (24.3 percentage point) and OBCs (26 percentage points). Still, by 2011–12, a little less than half of the Muslim population (45%) could be counted among the middle class. However, a bulk of this middle class is confined to the lowest rung – that which survives on per capita expenditure of a paltry 2–4 dollars a day. Among Muslims, and so is true of other social groups such as SCs, more than 80% of the middle class could be bracketed in its poorest segment. The predominance of Hindus over Muslims and that of upper castes over lower castes in the middle and the affluent segments of the middle class was not much altered under the impact of liberalization (Krishnan and Hatekar: 40–48). The recent expansion in the middle class among Muslims is largely led by Mus­ lim OBCs. A distribution by religion and social groups of MPCE quintiles (2011– 12) shows that nearly half of the Muslim OBCs occupied the middle expenditure quintiles.3 Before we rush to celebrate the arrival of the Muslim middle class in the consumer market, a caution is advised. During 2004–05 to 2011–12, the period that accounted for a ‘phenomenal’ growth in the Indian middle class, the rise of monthly per capita expenditure for Muslims of all social standing has been the least suggesting weak economic foundations of the Muslim middle class (GoI 2014: 40). Thus, though there is an expansion of the Muslim middle class, it is largely in the lower rungs led by the Muslim OBCs. In addition, there are also indications from certain states of inter-generational decline among Muslims in general. A recent survey on occupational mobility in the state of Uttar Pradesh noted significant inter-generational decline among the state’s Muslim population. In three generations, Muslim upper castes showed far greater tendency to move from agriculture into unsecure and less remunerative occupations such as self-employed, petty business, and skilled and unskilled non­ agricultural labour categories. In contrast, the Hindu upper castes moved away from agricultural to join Grade A and Grade B jobs. The Dalit and OBC Muslims, who perhaps never had a significant presence in agriculture, remained occupied as unskilled non-agricultural labourers. In fact, their proportion increased in this category indicating further pauperization (Trivedi et al. 2016: 120).4 Studies on middle class are either fixed on assessing its size or are obsessively absorbed with consumption patterns and practices. The centrality accorded to consumption, both in estimating its size as well as determining its distinguishing features, usually obviates the role of morality and middle class values. In contrast, Van Wessel’s middle-class informants of Baroda city constantly moralized against the conspicuous consumption and crass materialism that had become the hall­ mark of middle-class identity for certain sections (Van Wessel 2004: 93–116). This suggests that the middle class values are variegated, often at war with each other. Plausibly, consumptions in the middle-class consumer market are not sim­ ply responses to advertisements or an indication of rising income levels, but a strategy of upward mobility and boundary formation among the emerging mid­ dle classes.

130

Tanweer Fazal

Classificatory System and the Muslim Middle Class As survey data indicates, there is a plausible reconfiguration in the class structure among Muslims. However, this leaves us with some pressing questions regarding the formation of class identity and the prevailing ideology and value system that Muslim middle class adheres to. These are questions that require a descriptive ana­ lytical frame. We turn to narratives captured from variegated middle class homes located in metropolitan Delhi and its suburbs. The interviews referred to here were conducted in 2016 and 2017 and were set in the backdrop of an inflamed social and political atmosphere with news of lynching of Muslim individuals, sus­ picions regarding their patriotism and religious profiling of terrorism, proscriptions on food choices and livelihood options, and reported denial of housing in mixed middle class colonies dominating public discourse. Needless to say, our discussions during the course of the interviews frequently lapsed into fears and trepidations of the respondents. The names of the respondents are changed here to maintain confidentiality. Tasneem and Rashid, both in their early 40s, live in an upscale apartment in Gurgaon and work in the multinational corporations at senior managerial levels. Earlier, they lived in the United States for close to four and a half years. Both of them earned their degrees from premier management institutes and studied in Jesuit schools in Ranchi, where they spent their childhood. Tasneem’s father was officer in charge of sales department of a public sector unit. Rashid’s father, a college professor, came from a landed family of Katihar. His decision to move to Ranchi and take up college teaching as a profession enabled an entire generation of his relatives to gain education and enter professional lives. Ties with the village are still retained by the family. Both Tasneem and Rashid are Syeds, and their families are known to each other for years. Their total household income ranges between 30 and 40 lakhs annually. Farhana Anjum was educated in a private school in Gurgaon and finally gradu­ ated with an MCA degree. In her late 30s, she too lives in Gurgaon but in an apart­ ment that is not part of any gated society. She belongs to the second generation in her family with formal education. Her father is from Bihar but worked as an assistant engineer in Haryana all his life. Her caste is Ansari, a relatively preponder­ ant one among the Muslim middle castes. She does not retain any connection with the village from where her father came. She quit her job as a software professional to join her husband, Shaaz Qamar’s (name changed) business. Shaaz is a Sheik Sid­ dique from Lucknow. His father was an MSc and his mother a BSc graduate while his grandfather was an Urdu poet. Both Shaaz and Farhana together earn in the range of 15–30 lakhs a year. Our next respondent, Anwar Moradabadi, 54, is a well-known Urdu journalist, author of several books in Urdu and recipient of many awards and recognitions. He is the owner and chief editor of a daily and a fortnightly. He is also a columnist for a large number of Urdu dailies in the country. Belonging to a middle caste family, he moved to Delhi in 1977 from Moradabad, a town in western Uttar Pradesh.

The Old and the New Muslim Middle Class

131

Moradabadi had a maternal uncle in the city who helped him in the initial years. To fulfil his brother’s wishes, he went to a madrasa to learn Arabic and Persian for three years, where he also learnt calligraphy. Subsequently, he earned an M.A. degree in Urdu from Rohilkhand University and Adeeb Kamil (degree in Urdu) from Jamia Urdu, Aligarh. He learnt English after he was able to persuade one of his teachers to teach him the language. His nana (maternal grandfather) used to publish an Urdu magazine and was a close aide of Maulana Azad. The family fell in bad times after Independence. His father was a bus driver, sustained a family of 10 on his modest salary. For him, more than economic status, it is the tarbiyat (upbringing) that is more important. He also grew up in a religious environment, reading the Quran with the jamaat (congregation) every day and continues to do so. Rihad Ashraf (name changed), 48, is a Syed, whose ancestors moved from Sirhind in Punjab to Shahjahanpur on receiving zamindari from emperor Shahja­ han. Part of the family moved to Delhi during the World War II when they settled down in Old Delhi. In 1989, Ashraf and his brother decided to move to Jamia Nagar, a Muslim middle class colony in south-east district of the capital. Accord­ ing to Ashraf, over time, the family sold off their land and all the shops that they owned in the village in order to maintain their lifestyle. Therefore after Independ­ ence, they preferred taking up government jobs as a secure source of income and probably also to maintain status. His father, mother, and his brother, all took up government employment. He too followed them by joining as a lower division clerk in Jamia Millia Islamia University. A section of the occupational castes among Muslims have been able to gain from increased economic activity following liberalization. Two of our respondents, Yaqub Khan and Manjnu Khan, were able to enhance their economic status in the last two decades. Yaqub has a welding unit in Vasant Kunj locality of south-west Delhi, and Manju runs a carpentry unit in Okhla locality of south-east Delhi. Yaqub, nearly 52 years of age, belongs to Saifi caste that specializes in carpentry and iron work. Soon after completing his class eight, he came from Meerut to Delhi to work with one of his acquaintances who ran an iron welding and fabrication shop. For the next ten years, Yaqub worked in his shop as a welder till he started his own unit. There are five members in his family including three adolescent children. Yaqub has managed to send all of them to one of the English medium schools that have sprung up in the neighbourhood. Over the years, Yaqub bought a plot of land and built his house in Chhattarpur village of Delhi. Along with him, many of his friends as well as kinsmen have come to live in the same neighbourhood. Manju Khan, around 55  years, is a Meo and works as a carpenter in Delhi. Though located in the Okhla area, he takes orders from all over NCR. Like many Meos from his generation, his parents bear both Hindu and Muslim names. Manju too carries a Hindu name which, according to him, he uses strategically where he feels that his Muslim identity could be hindrance in securing orders from cli­ ents. Originally from Alwar, he moved to Delhi at the age of 15 in the 1980s. Initially, he worked in the units owned by others, but within ten years or so, he established his own. He now employs workers while he himself has assumed

132

Tanweer Fazal

the role of a contractor. The expansion in the real estate market in the last many years ensured that Manju and his fellow carpenters were flooded with continuous demand. Though there has been occasional sluggishness in the market, Manju’s reputation among apartment owners and builders ensured that his business was not affected. Manju has three children, two daughters and a son. Both the daughters earned their graduation degrees from Jamia Millia before they were married some years ago. His son left studies after class 12 and joined him in the carpentry unit. Compared to what Yaqub and Manju’s life history indicate, the route to mid­ dle class for the old elite and the landed aristocracy is different. At times, it also indicates a downward slide in their economic status. Farah Hassan is a young envi­ ronmental researcher and lives with her parents in an upmarket colony of South Delhi. Her father was from Aligarh who had inherited land from his family in parts of Punjab and Haryana. His ancestors reportedly served in the Mughal army and received zamindari in return. As much of the inherited land lay on the Indian side of the border, the family decided to stay back during Partition. However, the fam­ ily lost much of the land because of encroachments and disputes. Her grandfather was a prominent Congress leader at Aligarh Muslim University. Her family took to higher education early on, men since the last four to five generations and women in the last two to three generations. Around the time when Farah was born, her par­ ents moved to Delhi. Initially, they settled at South extension area of the city, and later to New Friends Colony, where they have been living since the last eight years. The decision to shift to a colony close to Jamia Nagar, a Muslim-concentrated area, was taken following an incident in which the neighbours at South Exten­ sion hounded the family. The decision of the family to move to Delhi was helpful for her mother as she could exercise her freedoms and choices in ways that would never have been possible, and be considered blasphemous, in Aligarh. She practices her Shia faith along with Buddhism. Over the years, however, Farah notices, that her father has become far more conventional than he was. Another member of the former aristocracy is 48-year-old Raziuddin Ahmad who works in the intelligence wing of the Home Ministry. At the time of the interview, he held the position of Deputy Commissioner of Police. He insisted that we put down his caste/biradri as Syed, Sunni Muslim. After completing his BSc Honours in Botany, Ahmad did his post-graduation in Industrial Manage­ ment from Patna University. He comes from a family, which, once prominent in Bihar, fell on hard times after Independence. His grandfather was a barrister trained in London. His family began to witness dispossession after the death of his grandfather – his relatives took over all the property. His father was a middle-level government officer in Patna and was able to educate all his four children to com­ plete their Masters. He moved to Delhi after having been selected for the Home Ministry job in 1991. Having lived in different parts of Delhi, Ahmad recently purchased and moved to a new apartment in East Delhi. The society in which he lives is a mixed one, and there are very few Muslims among the apartment owners. Yet, it is in the vicinity of Taj apartments, one of the Muslim-concentrated housing societies in Delhi. For Ahmad, the residential choice of a mixed neighbourhood

The Old and the New Muslim Middle Class

133

was a conscious one as Muslim-dominated neighbourhoods could turn out to be too orthodox. At the same time, the close proximity to Taj apartments ensures that he does not miss out on the cultural needs such as Urdu teacher for his children and mosque for the Friday congregation. Muslim subjectivities across genders, sects, and social status demonstrate tenden­ cies towards moving from the particular to the universal. However, unlike what enlightenment modernity prescribes, the pursuit of the universal is not accompa­ nied with the abandoning of the particular, but an adjustment between the two is commonly sought. The particular and the universal remain in a fraught relationship, expressed in different ways in different individuals. Torn between pulls of moder­ nity and tradition, the respondents worked out their own resolutions that compete to shape middle class identity among Muslims. Tasneem and Rashid consciously disavow the choice to live in what they see as Muslim ghettoes, imagined by them as dens of prejudice and backwardness, preferring more heterogeneous neighbour­ hoods. Their choice of upscale suburban housing is articulated in terms of their identification of themselves as cosmopolitans. Shaaz Qamar, our other respondent, who lives in one of those ‘downmarket apartments’, felt how the communityconcentrated areas were rather unsafe as they come to be easily stigmatized. As they tend to acquire a cosmopolitan middle class identity, tradition and ties with the community are not altogether abandoned. Tasneem tried wearing the Hijab, initially in order to protect her falling hair, and discovered that she received immense respect from others. However, she found it too cumbersome to continue. Islam is fiercely personal for her, a matter of choice, a world of spiritual quest, and largely non-conflictual. Anwar Moradabadi is deeply religious and so is Ashraf, but this has not stopped the latter from occasional indulgences such as eating out at restaurants serving halal food. One of Anwar’s sons, a tabligh, on the other hand frequently dissuades him from conspicuous consumption. For Moradabadi, living in Muslim-specific Taj apartments ensured an Islamic upbringing for his children. Also active in affairs of the residents’ welfare associa­ tion, he was pleased with the exposure to Islamic ethics and culture his children received, as well as the influence Tablighi-i-Jamaat wielded in the area and over his son. It is interesting to note that to him, it was Old Delhi – another, much older concentration of Muslims – that held negative connotations. Inhabitants of old Delhi, in his words, were not truthful and honest, and Taj apartments represented an escape. Over the years, choices of neighbourhoods are also determined by fac­ tors such as security, affordability, proximity, and the fact that mixed neighbour­ hoods are increasingly becoming closed for Muslims. So when Rihad Ashraf and his brothers decided to shift out of old Delhi, their next choice was Jamia Nagar, another Muslim locality. Farah’s family, given their cosmopolitan taste, opted to initially stay in South Extension, an upscale locality in Delhi. On being forced to leave the place, their next option was New Friend’s Colony, another upmarket neighbourhood, but adjoining Jamia Nagar. Similarly, Raziuddin Ahmad found virtue in living in a religiously diverse apartment complex; however, he ensured that it was adjoining Taj apartments, a predominantly Muslim housing society.

134

Tanweer Fazal

Apna mahaul (our environment), as Laurent Gayer (2012) found while researching Muslim settlement patterns in Delhi, could be another such reason among a com­ bination of factors that determined Muslim residential choices. The old and the new middle class among Muslims is a complicated story as trends of both upward and downward mobility are present. However, between the old and the new middle class, or between the different status groups that com­ prise the Muslim middle class, symbolic practices define the classificatory system. More than middle class locations – whether in professions, software industries, selfemployed, and entrepreneur – social capital, cultural networks, and the historicity, and route of middle class formation play a significant role in the shaping of values and norms. Thus, for Tasneem and Rashid, now for several generations into the middle class, their values are a legacy of what can be described as the ‘old’ middle class values formed in much more stable, secure, and less aggressive world of gov­ ernment service and old aristocracy. This is evident in their cautious consumerism that detests frequent visits to malls and expensive restaurants and their aversion to flashy home décor. Irrational and conspicuous consumption is not what shapes their class identity as it speaks through their comfort with English language, literary taste, convent education, IIM graduation, and high managerial level positions. On a similar plane, advertisements were not something that seemed to have influenced Farah’s decision-making. Her choices of artifacts in the consumer market were determined more by her class location – a sense of cultivated grace and elegance reflected in consumer choices that were not so ostentatious. In contrast, Farzana and Shaaz, now only second generation into middle class status, have had a differ­ ent route to identity formation. It depends on everyday symbolic assertions – their choices dependent on advertisements, brand consciousness, and performances. The connection with the past, in this case, is not so profound and rarely referred to. Moradabadi’s obvious pride in his past derives not from any purported noble descent, but from his family’s participation in the freedom movement, as a result of which his grandfather was also once jailed. It is this that defines his cultural identity and politics. Moradabadi is embedded in older forms of patronage networks (the help, for instance he received from the politician Azam Khan to set up his news­ paper, or his relations with other leaders as evident in his numerous photographs with political leaders from Hamid Ansari to Manmohan Singh and Arjun Singh in his office) and state institutions such as Urdu Akademi (run by Delhi govern­ ment), whose relevance seems to be fast receding. While the patronage networks represented earlier forms of social mobility, appointments in bodies such as Urdu Akademi correspondingly signalled the rise in his status. Unlike other respondents, Moradabadi is wholly involved in community activities (president of the Urdu Press Association, the secretary of the All India Urdu Editor’s Conference, and the general secretary of the All India Muslim Majlis-e-Mushawarat), and he articulates his concerns from that vantage point. Lacking the skills which might allow him entry into a cosmopolitan middle class, he detests it and clings onto more familiar, older ways. His invocation of tarbiyat (a sharif value par excellence), which he was taught at home, his struggle from a calligraphist to an editor of a newspaper, his

The Old and the New Muslim Middle Class

135

insistence on work ethic, and honesty remind one of Margalit Pernau’s analysis of the rise of middle class in mid-19th century North India, which, in differentiat­ ing itself from nawabi decadence on the one hand and menial classes on the other, emphasized precisely these values. Adherence to values of individual achievement, hard work, husbanding of resources, and concomitant behaviour led to a process she describes as ‘ashrafization’, whereupon those who were not necessarily noble or well-born could stake a claim to a higher social status (Pernau 2001: 21–41). For Yaqub, setting up his own welding unit freed him from the bondage of the employer and also enhanced his social status among relatives and friends. In his locality, Yaqub is active in the local RWA, has been its president twice, and takes keen interest in its elections. This also has enabled him to establish contacts with local state functionaries and the police. He asserts his rising class status through the Santro car he drives, the annual health packages he buys, and the claims of hav­ ing stayed in upscale middle class colonies in the past. Nonetheless, at the level of values, Yaqub disparages the atomized and isolated existence of middle class neigh­ bourhoods and instead emphasizes his strong biradri and community ties. Manju Khan chose to buy a small plot of land in Okhla over which he built a two-storey house. Despite living in a metropolis like Delhi, ties with the extended family and members of his community remain robust. He regularly visits his village in Alwar and makes it a point to attend all the major functions. Rihad Ashraf insists on recreating a past glory and grandeur of his ancestors – whether real or imagined. In his telling, one of his ancestors, originally from Sirhind in Punjab, was made a Hakim during Shahjahan’s time and granted a zamindari over three villages in Shahjanapur. Over time, the family sold their land in order to maintain their lifestyle and charitable works such as a mission school, which he still treats as his family legacy. According to him, most of the family properties – but for a haveli – have been sold. Therefore, he says, after Independence, they preferred taking up government jobs as a secure source of income. This is reiterated to affirm that he is not a new arrival but part of an older elite, albeit one that has fallen on bad times. The past – long gone – is both an aspiration and a resource to claim higher social location (Fazal 2021: 275). Consumption is not simply an economic behaviour, a response to aggressive marketing strategies, or a means to status enhancement – it is also culturally deter­ mined. This relationship between culture and consumption needs far more seri­ ous investigation than there has been. It is not market alone that determines and dictates consumer conduct, but culture too limits and restricts the market. Middle class Muslims sometimes resent the limited choice that the market enforces upon them. There are fewer restaurants serving halal food, swimming pool for Tasneem and Rashid is a waste of resources, and limited availability of Urdu teachers can be a problem. Raziuddin Ahmad and his wife requested the convent school where their two children are enrolled to teach Urdu instead of French and German. Their request was not entertained. They then engaged a Madarsa teacher who could teach their wards the language at home. Interestingly, however, this nostalgia for the lost cultural inheritance existed alongside their desire to be part of the modernizing

136

Tanweer Fazal

middle class. Ahmad and his wife stressed that they subscribed to English newspa­ pers alone and preferred English language news channels on television. The prevailing overlap between class location and values associated with caste origins, a defining feature of the old middle class which primarily reaffirmed upper caste values, is certainly under stress. Upward class mobility of hitherto impov­ erished castes as well as dispossessions among a section of the old elite makes the situation far more knotty. In terms of taste, cultural preferences, education, and distance, Tasneem and Rashid, Anwar Moradabadi, and Rihad Ashraf are ‘classes apart’, though of similar caste backgrounds. As our data demonstrates, much of the new arrivals in the middle class are Muslims who are officially categorized as among Other Backward Classes (OBCs). Does their arrival lead to a ready accept­ ance by those already entrenched? Empirically, we did not find much support for this assertion. Neither did we find any effort on the part of the new arrivals to adopt the symbols, lifestyles, and cultural tastes of the entrenched or the old elite. The lower middle class, represented by Yaqub Khan, Manju Khan, and also Rihad Ashraf to some extent, was busy setting its own standards and even displayed a degree of disdain for the more affluent for their atomized existence and disregard for the community and the neighbourhood (Fazal 2021: 277). The classification struggles, according to Bourdieu (1996 8th ed.), determine symbolic boundaries and define taste in culture and consumption so as to main­ tain social distance. However, this struggle does not take place only in the context of the dominant and the dominated, the two polar opposites in class system. It acquires much more complex and nuanced form among individuals and groups placed broadly within the same class location – here in our case, the middle class. This symbolic struggle is very much discernible, as Alan Wolfe found in the case of America in the form of cultural war or war of values between the old and the new middle class. It is not the income level on its own that determines the middle class status of individuals or groups. Classification systems, Bourdieu reminds, are most effective when they function below the level of consciousness (Bourdieu 1996: 46). The formation of middle class identity is determined by values imbibed and boundaries discursively forged through every day and often unconscious practices of distinction.

Notes 1

2

The argument that Partition-related migration disturbed the human development pro­ file of the Muslim population in India hardly holds true when faced with empirical data. As Basant and Shariff point out, most of the migration between India and Pakistan was within 50 km of the borders. Given the thin spread of out-migrants from other parts of India, the human development profile of other areas did not get altered. See R. Basant and A. Shariff, Oxford Handbook of Muslims in India: Empirical and Policy Perspectives, Delhi, Oxford University Press, 2010, pp. 6–7. Other commentators too highlight the difference in values between the old and the new middle class. Varma, for instance, took the new middle class to task for ‘materialistic exhibitionism’ and abandoning social responsibility towards the poor. Pavan K. Varma, The Great Indian Middle Class, Delhi, Penguin Books, 1998.

The Old and the New Muslim Middle Class

137

3 For a more detailed analysis and tabular presentation of data, see Tanweer Fazal, “The Muslim middle class: Structure, identity and mobility’, in Sujata Patel (ed.), Neoliberal­ ism, Urbanisation and Aspiration in Contemporary India, Delhi, OUP, 2021, pp. 257–278. 4 Divya Vaid’s chapter, ‘Social Mobility Patterns, Opportunities, and Barriers: Muslims in Contemporary India’, in this volume too observes higher levels of downward mobil­ ity inter-generationally among Muslims in general. Her data shows that while Muslim OBCs have displayed upward educational mobility over previous generations, this has not translated into occupational mobility as such.

References Alavi, Hamza, 2002. ‘Social Forces and Ideology in the Making of Pakistan’, Economic and Political Weekly, vol. 37(51), pp. 5119–5124. Basant, Rakesh, and Abusaleh Shariff, 2010. Oxford Handbook of Muslims in India: Empirical and Policy Perspectives, Delhi: Oxford University Press. Beteille, Andre, 2017. ‘The Social Character of Indian Middle Class’, in Imtiaz Ahmad and H. Reifeld eds., Middle Class Values in India and Western Europe, Delhi: Social Science Press, pp. 73–79. Bourdieu, Pierre, 1996. Distinction: A  of Judgment of Social Critique Taste (8th rep), Cam­ bridge: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Fazal, Tanweer, 2021. “The Muslim Middle Class: Structure, Identity and Mobility’, in Sujata Patel ed., Neoliberalism, Urbanisation and Aspiration in Contemporary India, Delhi: Oxford University Press, pp. 257–278. Fernandez, Leela, 2006. India’s New Middle Class, Delhi: Oxford University Press. Gayer, Laurent, 2012. ‘Safe and Sound: Searching for Good environment in Abul Fazl Enclave, Delhi’, in Laurent Gayer and Christophe Jaffrelot eds., Muslims in Indian Cities: Trajectories of Marginalisation, London: Hurst and Co., pp. 213–236. GOI, 2006. ‘Prime Minister’s High Level Committee (Sachar Committee)’, Social Eco­ nomic and Educational Status of the Muslim Community of India: A Report, Cabinet Secretariat, Delhi. GOI, 2014. Post-Sachar Evaluation Committee (Kundu Committee), Delhi: Ministry of Minor­ ity Affairs. Hasan, Mushirul, 1988. ‘In Search of Identity and Integration: India’s Muslims Since Inde­ pendence’, EPW, vol. 23(45-46-47),., pp. 2467–2478. Jaffrelot, Christophe, and Peter van der Veer (eds.), 2008. Patterns of Middle Class Consump­ tion in India and China, Delhi and London: SAGE. Krishna, Anirudh and Devendra Bajpai, 2015. ‘Layers in Globalising Society and the New Middle Class in India: Trends, Distribution and Prospects’, Economic and Political Weekly, vol. L(5), pp. 69–77. Krishnan, Sandhya and Neeraj Hatekar, 2017. ‘Rise of the New Middle Class and Its Changing Structure’, Economic and Political Weekly, vol. LII(22), pp. 40–48. Pernau, Margalit, 2001. ‘Middle Class and Secularisation: Muslims of Delhi in the Nine­ teenth Century’, in Imtiaz Ahmad and H. Reifeld eds., Middle Class Values in India and Western Europe, Delhi: Social Science Press, pp. 21–41. Sheth, D. L., 1999. ‘Secularisation of Caste and Making of New Middle Class’, Economic and Political Weekly, vol. 34(34/35), pp. 2502–2510. Shukla, Rajesh, 2010. How India Earns, Spends and Saves: Unmasking the Real India, Delhi: NCAER-CMCR and SAGE. Sridharan, E., 2008. ‘Political Economy of the Middle Classes in Urbanising India’, ISAS Working Paper, No. 49, September 22, National University of Singapore, Singapore.

138

Tanweer Fazal

Trivedi, Prashant K., Srinivas Goli, Fahimuddin, and Surinder Kumar, 2016. ‘Identity Equa­ tions and Electoral Politics Investigating Political Economy of Land, Employment and Education’, Economic and Political Weekly, vol. LI(53), pp. 117–126. Upadhyaya, Carol, 2011. ‘Software and the “New” Middle class in the “New India”’, in Amita Baviskar and Raka Ray eds., Elite and Everyman: Cultural politics of India’s Middle Classes, Delhi: Routledge, pp. 167–192. Van Wessel, M., 2004. ‘Talking About Consumption: How an Indian Middle Class Dissoci­ ates from Middle-Class Life’, Cultural Dynamics, vol. 16(1), pp. 93–116. Varma, Pavan K., 1998. The Great Indian Middle Class, Delhi: Viking. Wolfe, Alan, 1993. ‘Middle Class Moralities’, The Wilson Quarterly (1976–), vol. 17(3), pp. 49–64.

7 DELAYED AND DEPLETED In Search of the Missing Muslim Middle Class in India Amir Ali

Introduction There is a general sense that an articulate middle class is vital for a religious com­ munity to be able to make its voice heard and its political presence felt. While in Europe, the middle class was formed out of the commercial bourgeoisie and its ascendance in the period of the 18th and 19th centuries, the process of the forma­ tion of the middle class in an erstwhile British colony such as India is closely tied up with the creation of a colonial bureaucracy, a process initiated by the coloniz­ ing power itself. The creation of a colonial bureaucracy is intimately tied up with the educational system and how this leads, often very seamlessly, onto government employment. The much sought-after government employment has created in the Indian sub-continent, especially, terms such as a ‘salariat’ or ‘service’ to denote people whose source of income is the government or bureaucratic employment that gives them sustenance and status. This chapter attempts to understand the problem or the predicament of Indian Muslims in contemporary times in terms of what is characterized in the chapter as a delayed and depleted middle-class formation. By the delayed formation of the Muslim middle class is implied the idea that historically there was a reluctance on the part of Muslims to readily acquire Western education that was becoming available with the consolidation of British rule. This reluctance would mean that Muslims in India would suffer at least two generations of disadvantage in terms of educational advancement, consequent government employment, and ultimate middle-class formation. The almost frenzied exhortations of Sir Sayyid Ahmad Khan and the political pronouncements of his Aligarh movement are perhaps a clear manifestation of this feeling of being left behind and the need to catch up. The demand for the creation of Pakistan could be interpreted as a demand meant to make up for this lagging behind in the middle-class race.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003280309-10

140

Amir Ali

The formation of a modern middle class is also inextricably linked with the broader philosophical ideas associated with the European Enlightenment,1 and middle-class politics has generally been seen as linked closely with Enlightenment values such as liberalism, secularism, rights, and reason. The fact that a seminal study such as B.B. Mishra’s linked the middle class in India with government employment exhibits the way in which the bureaucratic rationality of the state was to be reflected and rep­ licated in the middle class that government and bureaucratic employment created.2 This straightforward connection between the middle class and progressive values of the Enlightenment has been rendered problematic especially with the formation of what Leela Fernandes calls India’s ‘new middle class’. The new middle class has par­ ticular patterns of consumption that mesh with equally demonstrative forms of relig­ iosity, which in turn combine with a politics often at variance with the more forward looking and progressive politics associated with earlier middle class formation.3 This chapter locates the problematic presence of the Muslim Middle class between two broad and significant studies on the larger Indian Middle class, which have appeared roughly 50 years apart. The first is B.B. Mishra’s work that appeared in 1955 and broadly understands the middle class in India as the creation of government employment, and the second is Leela Fernandes’ 2007 book India’s New Middle class that views it as being characterized by its higher consumption patterns, especially since the advent of liberalization of the Indian economy, a process that was actually initiated in the decade of the 1980s and became far more pronounced with the 1991 economic reforms policy under the auspices of then Finance Minister, Manmohan Singh.4 The chapter argues that while there may be even a respectable component of Muslim members among this new Indian Middle class, there is little likelihood of this section becoming politically influential to thereby bring about the possibility of any amelioration of the larger marginalization that besets Muslims as a whole. The delayed formation of the Middle class has already been noted. However, there were significant variations in Muslim Middle class formation across the length and breadth of the country in colonial India. Bengal would have been an exam­ ple of a region of the country where the Muslims were largely confined to the rural areas and the peasantry, and therefore the formation of a significant middle class here was difficult. However, as one travelled west to the United Provinces and beyond to the Northwest Province, levels of urbanization among Muslims increased as did their access to modern education. Urbanization, access to modern education, and the competition for government employment accentuated compe­ tition with the Hindu middle classes, and it is quite remarkable that it was precisely a similarity of interests vis-à-vis the Hindu middle classes which led to competi­ tion for the scarce resources of government employment and the rise of communal politics culminating in Partition.5 The backward state of Bengal’s Muslims was the subject of W.W. Hunter’s 1872 work The Indian Musalmans.6 The Hunter Report as it came to be known as would be effectively utilized by the more prosperous and articulate members of the Muslim League from the United Provinces in making the case for a more general backwardness of Muslims and to thereby underline their justification for the demands for minority protection.

Delayed and Depleted

141

The middle class of colonial India was not merely characterized by its creation out of the largesse of the colonial state in terms of government employment. It was further characterized by the need to differentiate itself from traditional elites. In the case of Indian Muslims, Peter Hardy has done well to make a distinction between the political elite that was centred on Aligarh and the religious elite that was cen­ tred on a seat of learning such as Deoband.7 With some exceptions, the politics of these two different elites, centred on different educational institutes, was to break up rather neatly between those in favour of Pakistan in the case of Aligarh and those in favour of the secular and composite nationalism of the Indian-National­ Congress-led national movement that was opposed to the idea of Pakistan.8

The Outmanoeuvring of the Muslim Middle Class in Independent India As the post-independence period unfolded, the politics of the middle class in India continued to display its dependence on the developmental state in terms of access to vital resources. Leela Fernandes has looked at the Nehruvian years from 1947 to 1964 as spawning state policies that furthered the interests of the middle class. As far as the already rather depleted Muslim middle class was concerned, far from being able to take advantage of these favourable state policies vis-à-vis the middle class, there was a confinement to a narrow and rather hackneyed set of issues such as Muslim personal law, status of Urdu language, and the minority character of Aligarh Muslim University. India’s official secularism served as a kind of formulaic reassurance to its Muslims that they were welcome when they decided to stay back in India after Partition. This reassurance was given often in the face of the increasingly strident Hindu nationalist rhetoric. However, the reassurance seemed to have a proviso attached to it, which suggested that there were political demands only of the kind mentioned earlier, which had the endorsement of the Congress and which were the only ones that could legitimately be raised. The issues demarcated for Muslims tended to rule out crucial issues such as government employment. The great injustice of the 1950 Presidential Proclamation that effectively put reserved seats in government employ­ ment for the Scheduled Castes outside the reach of low Muslim castes would be a particularly poignant case in point. This extremely undesirable post Partition Congress settlement for the Mus­ lims of India was seconded by the Muslim leadership that was hardly representa­ tive of the social, political, religious, and economic concerns of Muslims from across the length and breadth of the country. Such leaders were usually individu­ als who were positioned in a way that the Congress nominated them into leader­ ship roles. The unremarkable Muslim figures of the Congress in the decades after Partition would represent such blandly nominated leaders. They would consist of often, lacklustre individuals who would be given cabinet and ministerial posi­ tions. Even the more brilliant and outstanding could often find themselves, frus­ tratingly steered into oblivion.

142

Amir Ali

The case of Maulana Abul Kalam Azad, independent India’s first education minister and the youngest Congress president in the years prior to Independence, would most fittingly reflect the progressive outmanoeuvring and marginalization of the Indian Muslim from what was termed the country’s mainstream. A common enough complaint that could be heard being voiced by Muslims was that it would be almost impossible for any among them to head the three most important and powerful ministries of Home, External Affairs, and Defence. The first Muslim to become Home Minister, very briefly, was Mufti Mohammad Sayeed in V.P. Singh’s short-lived National Front Government in 1989. The first Muslim to make it to the External Affairs ministry was Salman Khursheed in 2012 under Manmohan Singh’s UPA II government. India has never had a Muslim Defence minister. There is then an Indian Muslim problem that in the times of Congress gov­ ernments ruling at the centre is at least acknowledged with sometimes symbolic, sometimes slightly more substantive attempts to address such backwardness and marginalization. Muslim marginalization tends to become more acute with the ushering in of BJP-led governments. One of the major reasons for this is of course the general tenor of antipathy towards Indian Muslims that the BJP harbours. More specifically, this general antipathy manifests itself in the form of a calling into ques­ tion of the constitutional provisions that protect minority rights. This is done by seeking to redefine and reconceptualize secularism as proved to be the case during the Atal Bihari Vajpayee regime of 1998–2004. More brazenly, there is an attempt to outright discredit and jettison the idea of secularism by making it synonymous with Muslim ‘appeasement’ as is the case with the Narendra Modi government. The predicament of the Indian Muslims as a whole is then one of its middle class component, having neither the numbers nor the clout to be able to influence state policy favourably in their direction. The difficult position of India’s Muslims and the inability of its middle class to be able to put forward an articulate and effective position can be understood in terms of its being caught between the rock and the hard place constituted by secularism and the accusation of ‘appeasement’. In the political compact that was created in independent India between the Congress rul­ ing class and India’s Muslims, secularism was perhaps the hard immovable rock that reassured India’s Muslims of their presence and relevance in India. It is interesting that terms such as secularism have acquired a particular connotation in their use in the Indian political discourse as the guarantor of minority rights in India.9 The Congress can very often be accused of wavering from its commitment to secular­ ism, which incidentally was placed in the preamble of the constitution under the 42nd Amendment of 1976 during the tenure of Mrs Indira Gandhi, when India was also placed under its infamous phase of emergency. In addition to the missing numbers and lack of clout of the Indian Muslim Middle class is the sheer indifference of the Muslim elite that sits atop the Muslim Middle class. Remarkably, while there is a missing Muslim Middle class in terms of its small numbers, there does exist a very visible Muslim elite, making the situation all the more anomalous. This is a question that V.T. Rajshekhar has persistently raised in numerous issues of the journal Dalit Voice that he edits. Rajshekhar, in

Delayed and Depleted

143

an editorial written in 1988, much before the current and more virulent phases of Hindutva had been unleashed, asked the question: ‘Why the Muslim elites are passive? Because they think they are safe and that the enemy attack is mostly on the Muslim masses. Their distance from the Muslim masses is the cause of their alienation’. Writing at least five years before the Indian Supreme Court deliv­ ered the 1993 Indira Sawhney judgment where it famously ruled that the creamy layer of the OBC’s needed to be excluded from the benefits of OBC reservation, Rajashekhar had his own ‘cream theory’ to offer when he talked about Muslim elites.10 Rajshekhar is scathing in his critique of the elite Muslims suggesting that there is a huge chasm that divides them from the rest of the Muslim masses. He seems to be suggesting that the Muslim elite is so completely secularized that it has lost touch with the distinctive religious idiom in which the masses think and express themselves. Rajshekhar is then suggesting a cleft that has been created between the tiny Muslim elite and the Muslim masses. It is here that Congress politics of the 1980s becomes interesting as the Congress seized the religious idiom and preoccupation of the Muslim masses and addressed them in precisely such a religious idiom. This addressing of Muslims in what has been termed a predominantly religious idiom allowed the Congress to then skirt the typical middle class issues that this chapter will suggest it was always uncomfortable addressing, the very simple reasons for this being that these were issues that the Muslim League had raised consistently prior to Partition. Whenever the Congress, or for that matter any party or individual, undermines the principle of secularism, it has stood accused of what in India is the political antonym of secularism, which is communalism. Communalism is a term that has acquired an extremely negative connotation, which suggests an unprincipled pro­ motion of a narrow sectarian interest over a wider and hence legitimate national interest. Under the political compact between India’s Muslims and the Congress, secularism connoted a very narrow range of minority interests that could legiti­ mately be raised in terms of ameliorating and improving the conditions of the Muslims. One of the historical reasons for this was that all the issues raised in the name of India’s Muslims by the Muslim League that was supported by significant ranks of the Muslim middle class were ruled out of court and hence illegitimate. These demands pertained to separate electorates, greater power to federal provinces vis-à-vis the central government, and some form of minority veto over crucial issues concerning them. These were now demands associated with Partition, and the Muslim leadership was now unable to legitimately lay claim to any of these provisions. The narrow bandwidth of minority rights provisions that remained was confined to the constricted range of issues that were flagged a while ago and tended to oscillate between AMU and its minority character, the issue of Muslim Personal Law and the beleaguered state of the Urdu language, now understood as solely identified with Indian Muslims. This narrowing of the bandwidth of legitimate minority politics would perhaps serve as the further death-knell of Muslim middle class politics. The brilliance of

144

Amir Ali

Maulana Abul Kalam Azad has been mentioned earlier, and the oblivion that he himself has gone into perhaps reflects the larger predicament of being a Muslim in India in contemporary times. Azad is not, strictly speaking, an individual who would be representative of a Muslim middle class politics that emerged as a product of a secular, Western education. In fact, he himself never received such an educa­ tion. It is perhaps a testament to the brilliance of his career early on that he could achieve the kind of political stature that he did. Yet, his oblivion could be inter­ preted as reflective of the larger oblivion of the Muslim middle class. The year in which this chapter was begun 2018, happened to be the sixtieth death anniversary of Azad, which went largely unnoticed for the obvious reasons of a rather hostile BJP government being in power. However, 30  years earlier in 1988 when there was a Congress government in power, his thirtieth death anniversary was marked by controversy when the publisher Orient Longman released 30 unexpurgated pages of his autobiography, India Wins Freedom. These pages must have been held back by Azad on account of the sensitive nature of the political observations made in them. They created quite a stir as they contained Azad’s clear disillusionment with many of his Congress colleagues who he believed never put in a sincere effort to prevent Partition. Remarkably, he specifi­ cally mentioned Nehru and Patel as two political figures who reflected this lack of sincerity. There is controversy regarding these pages as Azad did not write India Wins Freedom on his own. Given the fact that Azad was not fully conversant in English, he narrated the events of his life to Humayun Kabir, who was also a minister in Nehru’s government. Kabir translated into English everything that Azad narrated.11 The concern here is one of how the depleted ranks of the Muslim middle class, depleted not just in terms of numbers but also in intellectual integrity and calibre, were outplayed and outmanoeuvered by a progressively hostile political climate and its attendant discourse. The effects of this out manoeuvring were such that any attempt to raise issues of Muslims beyond the narrow bandwidth of minority con­ cerns was likely to be deemed communal and by extension against the interest of the nation: hence ‘anti-national’ as the potent label goes when it is used to discredit opponents, especially by Hindu nationalists. The outmanoeuvring is itself the cul­ mination of a process in which India’s prospective Muslim Middle class was unable to raise issues that would be considered to be the staple of any middle class politics, issues linked to state employment and representation in the legislature. These nor­ mally middle class concerns were ruled out of court for the Muslims by the politics of the Congress during the colonial era in its rivalry with the Muslim League. It is indeed strange to note that just a few years after the 1916 Lucknow Pact, in which the Congress and the Muslim League came as politically close as it would perhaps ever be possible, the politics of the Khilafat movement was to engulf India and its Muslims for a good five years so that the manner of appeal to the Muslims that the Congress thought was most effective was not so much the League’s political agenda but through Pan-Islamic symbolism.12 Here, again, one notes that the Congress has always felt comfortable appealing to the Muslims in a particular religious idiom that is felt to resonate with the Muslim masses.

Delayed and Depleted

145

What emerges is a picture of Congress nationalism that lacked the capacious quality to incorporate Muslim concerns of the kind being raised by the Muslim League in the form, most notably of separate electorates in the Legislature and pub­ lic employment. An obvious reason for its lack of capaciousness was the fact that the Indian National Congress very clearly contained within itself and was thereby constrained by a significant section of Hindu nationalism. Congress nationalism, uncomfortable as it was with entertaining Muslim concerns of this kind, was far more comfortable in considering those of the more symbolically cultural and reli­ gious variety. The Congress proclivity of choosing one set of Muslim concerns over another kind continues in the current Indian political scenario, quite often to its detriment when the Hindu nationalist BJP, now very much outside the fold of the Congress, hurls at it the oft-used charge of Muslim ‘appeasement’. In independent India, it is not as if the Congress has not raised issues con­ cerning Muslims. In line with the pattern outlined in the colonial decades prior to Independence, it tends to raise the ones least likely to have much significant positive impact in terms of meaningfully improving the worsening condition of Muslim lives. The most momentous instance of this was the Shah Bano contro­ versy and the decision of the Rajiv-Gandhi-led Congress government to pass the Muslim Womens’ Bill of 1986. The decision was no doubt taken with the idea of securing the support of influential sections of Muslim orthodoxy. A perhaps more well-intentioned and sincere effort to better the conditions of Muslims would be the Congress-led UPA I regime’s decision to set up the Sachar Committee. The SCR generated intense discussion as it highlighted the social and economic mar­ ginalization of Muslims and their near absence in important sectors of government employment. It remains largely unimplemented.

Caught between a Rock and a Hard Place: Secularism and Appeasement The Indian Muslim problem can then be understood as one of being caught between the rock of secularism and the hard place of another term in Indian politi­ cal discourse that has been given a remarkable twist of meaning, ‘appeasement’. The term appeasement has been introduced by the BJP in the face of the Con­ gress’s sometimes waxing and more often waning commitment to secularism. Its effect is to undermine and discredit every single attempt to even address issues related to Muslims, let alone take active ameliorative steps. The introduction and now widespread presence of the term appeasement in Indian political discourse are remarkable to say the least, as it effectively prevents the possibility of any political party from even beginning to address the vexed issue of Indian Muslims. This is the most recent manifestation of what is being referred to as the continuing marginalization of Indian Muslims that is also leading tragically on to their gradual political disenfranchisement. As an historical aside, recall that the term appeasement refers to the policies of the British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, and the French Prime Minister Edouard Daladier in the run up to

146

Amir Ali

the Munich Pact of 1938 to prevent the possibility of war with Hitler’s Germany. Appeasement can be defined as pandering to a powerful individual or group for fear of reprisals. There are certainly instances of the Congress and certain other parties pandering to the Muslims to cultivate them as a steady base of electoral sup­ port, as any political party does in its attempts to cultivate many a section of society. This is disparagingly referred to as the politics of ‘vote banks’. It is noteworthy that only the cultivation of the Muslim votes is likely to attract the ‘appeasement’ accu­ sation by Hindu nationalists. To suggest that this cultivation of a Muslim electoral base is done out of fear of a bullying Muslim presence is far-fetched, to say the very least. It represents the systematic demonization of the Muslim in Indian political discourse, a political dis­ course devastatingly effected by the Hindu right and which other political parties, who may not be so unfavourably disposed to the Muslims, are singularly unable to counter. The term appeasement has some degree of acceptability even among sections of more liberal opinion that may not necessarily subscribe to the Hindu right’s worldview. The fact that the word appeasement has such profound purchase on the increasingly worsening condition of Indian Muslims represents one of the most intriguing etymological twists given to a word. It also shows the way in which the continuously depleting Muslim middle class has been outmanoeuvred in terms of its complete inability to counter such hostile discourse.

A Visual Understanding of Class This chapter in its understanding of class has tried to foreground what can be called a visual understanding. What this means is that in the salience of this par­ ticular group category, it is the element of the visual that lends to class its particular poignancy. George Orwell’s insightful observation on the kind of barrier that class constitutes goes like this: Whichever way you turn this curse of class-difference confronts you like a wall of stone. Or rather it is not so much like a stone wall as the plate-glass of an aquarium; it is so easy to pretend that it isn’t there, and impossible to get through.13 The great advantage of Orwell’s formulation is that it stresses the impregnable character of class barriers while at the same time emphasizing how the frustra­ tions of class divisions are really rubbed in, in terms of the visual. Members of different classes can see and sneer at each other across class boundaries. There is, at the same time, an anxiety to project or showcase a particularly favourable view of one’s own class standing in relation to others in the pecking order. In another strikingly visual metaphor of class, the social anthropologist, Sara Dickey, in her book on the southern Indian city of Madurai, notes how in the front rooms of the many lower middle class households she visited, there was a certain promi­ nence that the glass-fronted showcase occupied, often containing a vase with

Delayed and Depleted

147

plastic flowers, photographs, and other such decorative items.14 The showcase then becomes a kind of outward portrayal of one’s class origins, a veritable put­ ting forward of one’s best class foot. This visual showcasing of being middle class Muslims is especially prominent in Muslim living rooms. In some of the extended interviews that were conducted by this writer on the question of being Muslim and middle class, where it must be mentioned that there was a genuine welcoming warmth with which I was invited into people’s homes and living rooms, one notices the omnipresence of religion in the décor. Almost every middle class Muslim home is likely to be adorned with very prominent declarations of the Islamic faith of its occupants. In the case of the more religiously observant, there will be an absence of photographs and paint­ ings that depict the human form as this is considered to be un-Islamic. In such households, there will likely be very prominent, and perhaps for some, rather loud declarations of religious belief, usually in the form of a large Allah written in Ara­ bic, which may be accompanied by the name of the Prophet Muhammad, again in Arabic. There is likely to be a very large portrayal, usually photographic, of the Kaaba at Mecca and also the Mosque at Medina. There may also be hung on the walls, prominent verses of the Quran. This is likely to be the case in lower and middling strata of the middle class. On the other hand, a visit to the more privileged upper strata of the middle class, privileged in terms of material affluence or access to social capital such as higher education, the visual presence of religion is likely to be there but in a far more attenuated and understated form. There may be verses of the Quran dis­ played, but they will be prominent more for their elegant calligraphy rather than the particular verse of the Quran quoted. These differing displays of religion in different strata of the Muslim middle class are significant as they bring to mind a slightly dated, yet in my opinion, rel­ evant argument made by Michael Fischer in a 1982 article on the Muslim petitebourgeoisie acting as the vehicles of political Islam. While Fischer’s article is about North Africa and the Middle East, it is worthwhile recalling certain aspects of his argument. Fischer suggests that especially in the 1970s, there was a significant migration and movement of Muslims from the provinces and smaller towns to the larger metropolises of the Muslim world. This migration was a movement in search of secular education offered by the universities that it was hoped would lead to secure employment and better life prospects. In large parts of the Muslim world, but especially in a country like Egypt, this would have meant a clogging of the uni­ versities. When it was realized that the process of education was unlikely to lead to the desired for employment and advancement in life, the universities became fertile breeding ground for political Islam. In Fischer’s argument, political Islam is the outcome of the disappointments and secular discontent of the petite-bourgeoisie that manifests itself in the form of greater religious observance in the face of a secularized, and in their view, rather degenerate elite. Politically, this translates into gravitating towards political parties or political movements that suggest that Islam offers a unique solution.15

148

Amir Ali

In the case of India, the secular discontents of the middle class have not been translated into gravitating towards political Islam and political parties that profess to speak predominantly in the name of Muslims. While there have been individu­ als or political parties such as the Indian Union Muslim League in the southern state of Kerala or the All India Majlis Ittihadul Muslimin (AIMIM) led by Asa­ duddin Owaisi in Hyderabad or Badruddin Ajmal’s All India United Democratic Front (AIUDF) in Assam, Muslims in India have largely stuck to the political mainstream. In the north, their disillusionment with the Congress meant a grow­ ing proximity to parties such as the Samajwadi Party in UP and the Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD) in Bihar. These were political parties that emerged spectacularly after the introduction of the Mandal Commission by the V.P. Singh Government at the fag end of the decade of the 1980s. What this kind of political alignment has meant is a kind of a waning of the influence of the Ashraf elite over the mid­ dle class and a greater emphasis on cross-cutting caste alliances leading to a greater emphasis on OBCs or Other Backward Classes among Muslims. This has been hailed by many commentators as a positive development as it signals the end of Ashraf-led middle class domination.

The Visual Spectacle of the Ghetto The visual aspect of class applied to Muslims immediately yields one of the most obvious aspects of Muslim existence in general and the Muslim Mid­ dle class in particular in contemporary India. The physical living spaces they inhabit are most likely the many urban ghettoes that have become a feature of almost every single urban settlement in India. There may be a small section of Muslims in this new Middle class that may consciously decide to live in mixed neighbourhoods, but such presence is likely to have little effect on the overall process of the continued ghettoization of the Muslims of India, making them the proverbial exception that proves the rule. To reiterate the visual element, the residential living areas of the Muslims in general and the middle class in par­ ticular are likely to be the numerous ghettoes of the country, which, depending on one’s point of view, can be an eyesore or a comforting place of familiarity, depending on one’s perspective. This comforting familiarity and reassurance has been referred to as apna mahaul or one’s own milieu in a number of works that delve into the issue of the Muslim ghetto.16 To continue with the theme of the visual, the scattered Muslims living in a mixed neighbourhood or locality would constitute the visual equivalent of a sore thumb that sticks out. In the perspec­ tive of the perhaps slightly more paranoid among the Muslims, their scattered numbers would make them sitting ducks to be targeted in times of communal violence, underlining the security that is to be found in the larger concentrated numbers of the ghetto. The phenomenon of ghettoization would be an immediate and very concrete manifestation of the larger marginalization and disenfranchisement of the Indian Muslim. Christophe Jaffrelot and Laurent Gayer in their book on Muslims in

Delayed and Depleted

149

Indian Cities cite the following statistics to underline the absence of Muslims in key decision-making roles: The Indian Muslims tend to be excluded from three sites of power within the state apparatus: the judiciary, the administration and the police. In 2002, they represented only 6.26% of the 479 High Court judges of India (there was not even one Muslim judge in the Maharashtra High Court), 2.95% of the 5,018 Indian Administrative Service (IAS) officers and 4.02% of the 3,236 IPS officers.17 The process of ghettoization seems to have become especially marked in the years and decades since the demolition of the Babri Masjid in 1992 with the process becoming further accentuated by the Gujarat pogroms in 2002.18 A  very broad generalization would suggest that the phenomenon of ghettoization arises from a combination of what can be called an external push factor from the larger society that disincentivizes, discourages, and at times actively disallows Muslims from tak­ ing up residence in mixed neighbourhoods and localities. This external push factor is then combined with an internal pull factor from within Muslims who may prefer to live among their own kind on account of the cultural familiarity of the milieu, the immediate access provided by numerous mosques in the locality, and the prox­ imity of the extended kinship network being available. The further obvious reason which may be decisive for some to make the move to such an area would be the perceived safety that is afforded by such larger numbers of Muslims living together in times of communal violence. Despite the variation among individuals in terms of their living in such areas, the one commonality that characterizes the attitude of the larger society towards the ghetto is the suspicion and stigmatization that are attached to it. Such suspi­ cion and stigmatization were especially evident in 2008 after the infamous Batla House encounter. Batla House is a large, almost completely Muslim-dominated locality which is part of the larger Muslim-dominated area of Jamia Nagar that has mushroomed around the Jamia Millia Islamia University in South East Delhi. In September 2008, the Delhi Police conducted a raid on one of the fourth-floor flats in the area of Batla House and claimed to have nabbed the accused behind the serial bomb blasts that had happened in Delhi a week prior to the encounter. Among the accused were some Jamia Millia Islamia University students and the issue tended to reinforce, in the larger political imagination of the majority, the widespread prevalence of terrorism among Muslims. This incident itself catapulted the hith­ erto unknown group, the Indian Mujahideen into prominence, suggesting the radicalization of Indian Muslim youngsters. What was quite remarkable was the way in which the ruling Congress party at the time spoke in two completely differ­ ent voices. One section of the Congress, especially the officials in the Home Min­ istry, were unanimous in their denial of the demand for a judicial inquiry into the episode as many continued to point to the numerous flaws that riddled the Delhi Police version of the event.19 On the other hand, within the Congress, there were

150

Amir Ali

individuals such as Sonia Gandhi and Digvijaya Singh who expressed sympathy at the suffering of the parents of the young men involved in the incident, most of whom happened to be from Azamgarh in eastern Uttar Pradesh. Despite the projection in the mainstream media of Batla House and the Muslim ghetto as being a place of extreme violence and therefore one of those areas that is best avoided, the locality does not have the kind of criminalization that one would associate with, for example, the post-Fordist hyper-ghetto in the United States or the banlieue in France.20 The negative perception associated with areas that are predominantly Muslim is not confined just to Delhi.21 It also becomes clear that the projection of the area as one associated with violence and terrorism is more a function of the mainstream media and how it uncritically carries forward the discourse of terrorism, often taking up the cue provided by the national security establishment.22 The question that needs to be taken up is whether the Indian state is able to visualize/see the particular conditions of India’s Muslims, large numbers of whom claim that they feel left out. In other words, does the state perhaps inadvertently overlook the predicament of the Muslim middle class? Or is the state in its majori­ tarian configuration programmed to deliberately overlook the plight of the Indian Muslim living his life in the blight of the many ghettoes that dot the country? Loic Wacquant suggests that there is an intense relationship between the state and the ghetto, one that can be characterized as an absent presence. There is, on the one hand, an absence of the state in terms of educational, transportation, and basic municipal facilities. This absence is complemented by the presence of the state in terms of heavy policing and surveillance. The face that the ghetto resident is most likely to see then is the ‘frowning face’ of the state.23 This suggests that members of the Muslim middle class are quite often likely to be on the wrong side of the repres­ sive arm of the state, unlike the larger middle class experience, whose members for the most part tend to be on the correct or the protected side of the repressive arm of the state. The question also arises of the manner in which Muslims position themselves vis-à-vis the state and the polity. Where Muslim politics have been most vocal at the national level, they have been on issues of the religious and culturally symbolic and has strangely enough not been able to make itself audible or visible in the more everyday bread and butter concerns such as health, housing, education, and employment. Laurent Gayer in his chapter on the Abul Fazal Enclave neighbour­ hood of South Delhi, located at a close distance to the Batla House area, makes the interesting observation that when the neighbourhood Residents Welfare Associa­ tion (RWA) made a plea to the political, civic, and legal authorities to regularize and improve the conditions of the area, they chose to downplay the religious iden­ tity of the residents and appealed instead by emphasizing their respectable mid­ dle class origins.24 This decision of the RWA needs to be seen in the light of the enhanced powers that RWAs now exercise in urban governance. Joel Ruet and Stephanie Tawa Lama Rewal observe that on the question of urban governance in Indian cities, the middle class in India is able to make its political presence felt

Delayed and Depleted

151

and hence get its way in terms of influencing urban policy, not so much through the electoral route, where voter turn-out for the middle class tends to be low, but through the mechanism of the RWA.25 The decision of the Abul Fazal Enclave RWA to downplay its religious identity can be taken here as an indicator of one of the constraints that Muslim Middle class politics tends to work within.

Conclusion This chapter has suggested that the impoverishment of political vision on the part of the Muslim leadership is in turn connected to the very anomaly that was argued at the very beginning as besetting Muslim Middle class formation viz. its delayed and depleted formation. The two sets of assumptions that this chapter has worked with then is that first, traditional middle class formation as we have known it in India, in terms of Western education and employment in the liberal professions, can create the possibility of a politically articulate and influential middle class com­ ponent, that while not working self-consciously to ameliorate the condition of the rest of their co-religionists, may have a positive spin-off merely in terms of its being positioned in public institutions. The second assumption that this chapter has worked with is that the new Indian middle class with its characteristic consumption patterns would not have the possibility of this element of the ameliorative. What makes the Muslim middle class visible and conspicuous then is the resi­ dential patterns of its members in urban ghettoes. This is then combined with a new pattern of in your face consumption to which is added a further layer of a very overt religiosity.26 Rather ironically, this visible and conspicuous element is coupled with a greater and greater marginalization and hence an invisibilization of Muslims in crucial areas. In a further addition to the irony, even as the invisibilization of especially the Muslim middle class continues and the larger process of the political disenfranchisement of Muslims proceeds apace, it is likely to become more highly visible and susceptible to political baiting by the forces of Hindutva. In fact, the political invisibilization and baiting are part of the same processes that have been set in motion. The political baiting by Hindutva forces would be an instance of what is done to harm the interests of the Muslim middle class. What is equally important to look at are the ways in which members of the Muslim middle class themselves respond to political circumstances that they find themselves in and to locate their specific political responses. In order to frame Muslim middle class political responses, one would have to inevitably offset them against the larger politics of the new Indian middle class that is characterized by a hostility to the workings of politics as it has been traditionally understood and the reliance on access to the state, not through an emphasis on electoral participation but through the valorization of a consumer citizenship. Leela Fernandes has very pertinently suggested that this form of new Middle class politics is itself a response to the political mobilization of lower castes and Muslims.27 The politics of the new Middle class is one which vociferously defends liberalization policies and markets and is in general wary of more lower

152

Amir Ali

caste assertions that seek to stake claims on government/bureaucratic employment that is frustratingly seen as being placed beyond the reach of the New Middle class on account of the politics of affirmative action that in India is referred to as reservations. The urban middle class is politically able to get its way, despite turning its back on government employment, having becoming sceptical towards political mobili­ zation by especially the lower/backward classes and castes, and further not turning out to vote in very large numbers. The new Middle class is able to continue to secure its interests then, not so much through traditional political and electoral mobilization, but by remaining largely visible and influential in India’s rumbus­ tious media, especially the electronic, that sets the political agenda for it. Leela Fernandes has especially looked at the failed 2004 BJP ‘India Shining’ electoral media campaign as a singular instance of this influence of the new Middle class in terms of influence through visual presence in the mainstream media and advertising campaigns that sustain the financial viability of this mainstream media. As a final and concluding consideration of the Muslim middle class, one notices the complete impossibility of the alignment of the class interests of the new Muslim middle class within the larger New Indian middle class. This becomes all the more stark as more traditional political and electoral mobilization among the lower castes calls for strategic political and tactical alliances between backward caste pasmanda Muslims and especially Dalits, and this has been noted by political commentators as being a positive development.28

Notes 1 See “The Carriers of Enlightenment, Freedom, Progress and Prosperity”, article origi­ nally published in ‘The Bengalee’ and reproduced in Sanjay Joshi (ed.), The Middle Class in Colonial India, Delhi, Oxford University Press, 2010. 2 B.B. Mishra, “The middle class of colonial India: A product of British benevolence”, in Sanjay Joshi (ed.), The Middle Class in Colonial India, Delhi, Oxford University Press, 2010. 3 By making a point such as this, it is important to note that it is not the aim of the chap­ ter to in any way contest Sanjay Joshi’s significant point regarding ‘republicized’ Hindu religiosity in colonial India. Joshi rightly observes: Broadly defined, modernity in this sense refers to new models of organizing social, political, and economic relations, which, we are told, draw their inspiration from the ideas of the Enlightenment and material circumstances following from the triumph of industrial capitalism. While there is no doubt that modernity does in many ways define the world we live in, one wonders if we must assume such a one-way traffic between religion and modernity. “Re-publicizing religiosity: Modernity, religion and the middle class”, in Sanjay Joshi (ed.), The Middle Class in Colonial India, Delhi, Oxford University Press, 2010, p. 202. By ‘one-way traffic’, Joshi is suggesting that the modern public sphere configured reli­ gion by consigning it to the realm of the private. Contesting such a view, he suggests that religion played a significant role in crafting a particular kind of modern public sphere. This chapter interprets Joshi’s point in the sense that religion influenced the crafting of a modern public sphere by remaining constrained by the rationality of the modern public

Delayed and Depleted

153

sphere. The chapter further suggests that with the advent of neo-liberal consumption patterns, this significant role that religion has already played becomes further accentu­ ated to the extent of even subverting the rationality of the modern public sphere. 4 Leela Fernandes in India’s New Middle Class: Democratic Politics in an Era of Economic Reform, Delhi, Oxford University Press, 2007, despite her focus on the new middle class of post-liberalization of India notes: ‘Far from being an outgrowth that is simply defined by contemporary globalization, the emergence of this social group can be tracked back to earlier periods of India’s colonial past’. She quite rightly notes that Debate on the character and effects of the rise of this new middle class sought to manage the distinctive position of this social group, one that rested in a liminal area between the colonial state on the one hand and traditional elites on the other. (p. 1) Leela Fernandes, India’s New Middle Class, p. 3.

W.W. Hunter, The Indian Musalmans, Delhi, Rupa & Co, 2002.

Peter Hardy, The Muslims of British India, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1972.

See Ziya-ul Hasan Faruqui, The Deoband School and the Demand for Pakistan, Bombay,

Asia Publishing House, 1963. Also see, Husain Ahmad Madni, Composite Nationalism and Islam, Delhi, Manohar, 2005. 9 Rajeev Bhargava (ed.), Secularism and its Critics, Delhi, Oxford University Press, 1998. 10 See V.T. Rajshekhar, India’s Muslim Problem: Agony of the Country’s Single Largest Com­ munity Persecuted by Hindu Nazis, Bangalore, Dalit Sahitya Akademi, 1993. It would be worth quoting Rajashekhar and his cream theory in full: 5 6 7 8

Every caste community or group-whether it is SC/ST? BCs, Upper castes, Muslims, Sikhs or Christians – has its own elite. You boil the milk and allow it to cool, cream is formed. You remove the cream, within few minutes fresh cream is formed. How this cream is formed? Cream is formed by sucking the essence of the milk. It is from this ice-cream is formed. Cream is richer than the milk. In human societies cream is formed by those living on the sweat and blood of the masses. If we don’t want the cream to be formed, wither we should remove this cream as and when it is formed or we should keep the milk stirring constantly so that no cream is formed. Such a cream exists in all societies. India’s upper castes are one such parasite. But can the Muslims afford the formation of such a cream? Does Islam permit it? (p. 18) 11 See Syeda Saiyadain Hameed, Maulana Azad, Islam and the Indian National Movement, Delhi, Oxford University Press, 2014. Hameed almost dismissively whitewashes the whole episode as not representative of the language and thought of Azad. Her dismissal overlooks the protracted legal wrangle and the whole controversy as it unfolded in 1988 before the actual publication. Justice B.N. Kirpal of the Delhi High Court ruled that both Azad and Humayun Kabir were to be considered co-authors. One of Azad’s rela­ tives, and at that time a Congress politician, Najma Heptullah had stalled publication by insisting on details of royalty payments by the publisher Orient Longman. This is what David Devdas had to write in India Today at the height of the controversy in 1988: Combining as he did erudite scholarship of Arabic and Urdu with a clear vision of secular unity, the Maulana had become one of the top five leaders of the freedom movement by the early ‘40s. Though his stern, patrician image did not make for populist charisma, his skill at maintaining political balance and the sturdy upright reputation through the previous two decades placed him among the possible con­ tenders for leadership of free India. Devdas concludes that the controversial pages from his memoirs, ‘published for the first time in their original form, reveal the poignant anguish of a nationalist par excellence’. ‘India Wins Freedom by Abul Kalam Azad: Certain to be a bombshell’. India Today,

154

12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Amir Ali

November 15, 1988. www.indiatoday.in/magazine/special-report/story/19881115-india­ wins-freedom-by-abdul-kalam-azad-certain-to-be-a-bombshell-798128–1988–11–15. Accessed on 15.03.2023. See Gail Minault, The Khilafat Movement: Religious Symbolism and Political Mobilization, Delhi, Oxford University Press, 1982. George Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier, London, Penguin Modern Classics, p. 145. Sara Dickey, Living Class in Urban India, Ranikhet, Permanent Black, 2016, p. 49. Michael M.J. Fischer, “Islam and the revolt of the Petit-Bourgeoisie”, Daedalus, Winter 1982: Religion, Volume 111, Number 1, pp. 101–125. See for instance, Tabassum Ruhi Khan, Beyond Hybridity and Fundamentalism: Emerging Muslim Identity in Globalized India, Delhi, Oxford University Press, 2015. Laurent Gayer and Christophe Jaffrelot (eds), Muslims in Indian Cities: Trajectories of Mar­ ginalisation, London, Hurst and Company, pp. 4–5. See “Split wide open: India slink into ghettoes”, The Times of India, New Delhi, April 20, 2002: Delhi seems to be witnessing the worst wave of ghettoisation post-Gujarat. Feel­ ing the pinch of the communal divide are educated, liberal, middle class Muslims who hitherto sweared by cosmopolitanism. Javed Raza, an IT professional, sold his Sarita Vihar flat two weeks ago and moved to congested Zakir Nagar, “It’s depress­ ing. People like us who would loathe to live in a Muslim ghetto are being forced to seek security in numbers.” Adds wife Zarina, “Most of our neighbours are neo­ rich Muslims who bought land very cheap here and have made a killing, selling it at higher prices now. Our mental level doesn’t gel. But it’s a small price to pay for our security.” According to Syeda Hameed, former member of the NCW, every communal riot has brought a fresh wave of ghettoisation in its wake but this one is truly unprecedented. “Earlier, if one had the money one could think of moving to Mayfair Gardens or Safardar Jang Enclave. But events in Gujarat have shattered our confidence. Today, I can’t think of moving out of Jamia. Unless they bomb us from the skies, they cannot get us here.” Adds Irfan Ahmed, who lives in Abul Fazl Apart­ ment near Noida, “The events in Gujarat have played havoc with the Muslim psyche. If any Muslim says he did not feel unsafe at the time of the shiladaan in Ayodhya, he is lying. Senior police officers who are friends have told us that in the event of an outbreak like Gujarat, we won’t be able to help you.’

19 ‘Encounter’ at Batla House: Unanswered Questions. A Report by the Jamia Teachers’ Soli­ darity Group, New Delhi. 20 Loic Wacquant, Urban Outcasts: A Comparative Sociology of Advanced Marginality, Cam­ bridge, Polity Press, 2007. 21 For an account of the Park Circus area of Kolkata, see Anasua Chatterjee, Margins of Citizenship: Muslim Experiences in Urban India, London and New York, Routledge, 2017. 22 See Praful Bidwai’s article “Guilty until proven innocent”, Frontline, October 24, 2008, p. 96, which notes that ‘India’s counter-terrorism strategy, which has become deeply communalized and duplicitous, will only strengthen terrorism’s sources and roots’. Tomis Kapitan has commented with regard to the United States that the mainstream media (newspapers, television, cinema), the independent ‘think tanks,’ and the main sectors of the government have sponsored a public discourse about terrorism devoid of any serious inquiry into, or concern about, the nature, origins, and goals of terrorist actions. The rhetoric with which they assail popular consciousness deflects attention away from a critical examination of these issues, and thereby contributes to the increasing spiral of hatred and atrocity. He further observes that the ‘use of “terror” and its cognates obscures the causes of political unrest and, consequently, impedes the development of rational policies for deal­ ing with underlying grievances’. The use of the rhetoric of terror is thus not ‘innocent’ and is employed ‘deliberately’ by those pursuing ‘specific political objectives’, See Tomis

Delayed and Depleted

23 24 25 26

27 28

155

Kapitan, “The terrorism of ‘terrorism’,” in James P. Sterba (ed.), Terrorism and Interna­ tional Justice, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2003, p. 47. Loic Wacquant, Urban Outcasts: A Comparative Sociology of Advanced Marginality, Cam­ bridge, Polity Press, 2007. Laurent Gayer, “Safe and sound: Searching for a ‘good environment’ in Abul Fazl Enclave, Delhi”, in Laurent Gayer and Christophe Jaffrelot (eds), Muslims in Indian Cit­ ies: Trajectories of Marginalisation, London, Hurst and Company, p. 224. Joel Ruet and Stephanie Tawa Lama-Rewal, Governing India’s Metropolises, New Delhi, Routledge, 2009, pp. 95–97. Tabssum Ruhi Khan in her book, Beyond Hybridity and Fundamentalism: Emerging Muslim Identity in Globalized India, Delhi, Oxford University Press, 2015, devotes chapter  1, ‘Peace TV and MTV: Global Cool and Apna Mahol in Jamia Enclave’ to an analysis of youngsters in the Jamia Nagar locality of Delhi, many of them holding relatively wellpaying corporate sector jobs and how they are drawn by the pull of the Muslim televan­ gelist Dr Zakir Naik. Leela Fernandes, India’s New Middle Class, pp. 174–176. Jaweed Alam for instance noted: ‘Socially oppressed Muslim communities have sought alliances with those who are akin to them in terms of work and leisure. They have been supporting, therefore, different political parties that represent the oppressed and this is particularly the case in the Indo-Gangetic belt. (As an aside, this has been an important cause for the decline of the Congress Party)’. “The contemporary Muslim situation in India: A  long-term view”, in Gurpreet Mahajan and Surinder S. Jodhka (eds), Reli­ gion, Community and Development: Changing Contours of Politics and Policy in India, Delhi, Routledge, 2010, pp. 204–205.

8 ASPIRATIONS OF MUSLIM MEN IN DELHI Importance of Self-Employment in Jamia Nagar Aashti Salman

Introduction In the recent decades in India, access to school education has risen for all social groups, particularly in metropolitan cities (Jeffrey et al. 2008). The opportunities for education, in conjunction with the circulation of reports of a burgeoning Indian middle class (Fernandes 2006; Mankekar 2015) as well as media images of rapid social mobility among urban middle-class Indians (Fernandes 2006; Fernandes and Heller 2011; Mankekar 2015), have created distinct aspirations among young peo­ ple for good jobs (Jeffrey 2010; Vaid 2017). Coinciding with these developments, it is argued that liberalization in India has reduced employment opportunities for a vast section of Indians, especially those from lower-middle class backgrounds,1 the poor, and the youth2 (Brown et al. 2017; Jeffrey et al. 2008; Jeffrey 2010; Mankekar 2015; Zyskowski 2020). Studies show that there is increasing discontent among educated youth who are unable to fulfil their employment aspirations because of rising unemployment and insecure employment (Brown et al. 2017; Jeffrey et al. 2008; Jeffrey 2010; Kumar 2016; Zyskowski 2020). Further, in the absence of adequate policy measures and state benefits to address problems of insecurity in employment, risks have shifted to the individual (Gooptu 2009, 2013). This means that people are required to engage in individualized strategies to cope with the problem of employment and work, demanding the development of the ‘enterpris­ ing self ’ (Gooptu 2013). In such a scenario, private resources have to be chan­ nelized into procuring scarce occupational skills, which those at the upper echelons of the class and caste hierarchies are able to do with relative ease (Deshpande 2003; Fernandes 2006). Authors have argued that a thin upper stratum of youth has benefitted from liberalization, but the others have been left behind when it comes to realizing aspirations (Fernandes 2006; Fernandes and Heller 2011; Jeffrey et al. 2008). This education–aspiration–unemployment paradox has led to uncertainties DOI: 10.4324/9781003280309-11

Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi

157

and anxieties among lower-middle class youth for their future (Brown et al. 2017; Fernandes 2006; Jeffrey et al. 2008; Jeffrey 2010; Kumar 2016; Vaid 2017). While studies such as Jeffrey et al. (2008), Jeffrey (2010), Kumar (2016), and Vaid (2017) have looked at some of these issues, their research does not focus on Muslims which is the gap filled by this chapter. Not all socio-religious groups face this paradox equally. The Sachar Commit­ tee Report (henceforth, SCR) has highlighted that Muslims in India face acute employment-based disadvantages. Most importantly, Muslims are over represented in self-employment activities in the non-agricultural sectors, more so in urban areas (Bordia Das 2010; GOI 2006; Unni 2010). For instance the SCR documents that in 2004–05, 57% of Muslim workers in urban areas were engaged in self-employment activities as compared to 43% of Hindu all castes (more details in the next section). Self-employment among Muslims remains under-researched particularly when it comes to understanding experiences through narratives (Mhaskar’s 2018 study in Mumbai is one such exception). Several urban centres in India report residential segregation for Muslims, from forced segregation or ghettoization in Juhapura, Gujarat, to self-segregation in Delhi purportedly for preserving their culture and forging safety (Gayer 2012; Kirmani 2013). Delhi reports the second highest degree of spatial segregation for Muslims among 11 cities and towns across India, next only to the riot-affected Juhapura in Gujarat (Susewind 2017). Moreover, employment opportunities for Muslims are often restricted to these segregated spaces (Bordia Das 2010; Khalidi 2006; Mhaskar 2018; Salman 2017). Few studies have engaged with the issue of Muslim aspirations within segregated neighbourhoods (an exception being Kazim’s (2018) study in Hyderabad), and this chapter aims to further explore aspirations within such a neighbourhood in Delhi. The chapter explores the employment aspirations3 and the reasons that shape the employment aspirations of low-income Muslim men (aged 18–25  years) in a single segregated neighbourhood of Jamia Nagar in Delhi. Second, the study aims to trace the short-term employment aspirations of the low-income Muslim men after a period of 20 months of the first round of the study to understand the developments that have taken place over this period. The study is an exploratory work and does not aim to generalize the experiences of the low-income men to the neighbourhood. The chapter is divided into five main sections. The next section presents a brief highlight of the employment-based disadvantages of Muslims. The second section discusses previous research on employment and aspirations. The aim of the chapter and the method are discussed in the third section. This is followed by the key find­ ings of the study. The last section concludes the chapter.

Disadvantages Faced by Muslims in India As shown in the introduction to this chapter, Muslims face acute employmentbased disadvantages that have been highlighted by reports and studies such as the

158

Aashti Salman

SCR. These findings potentially influence aspirations and employment choices that can be exercised by Muslims, especially male youth from low-income back­ grounds. Before discussing these findings, it is crucial to mention that Muslims in India are a heterogeneous group,4 and we do not make the assumption that the disadvantages discussed in the chapter are evenly distributed across the group. Based on the 61st round of the National Sample Survey (NSSO) data (2004–05), the SCR shows that Muslims have the lowest representation in regular5 employ­ ment, especially in the public sector, among all socio-religious groups6 (GOI 2006). This problem is exacerbated in the urban context,7 where Muslim workers in regular jobs are limited, compared to disadvantaged social groups such as the Scheduled Castes (SC) and Scheduled Tribes (ST) (ibid). Muslims are concentrated in the unorganized sector as casual labourers, which rarely enjoys protection of any kind, because of which the exclusionary impact of liberalization has been particu­ larly acute for them (ibid). Further, compared to SC, STs, and Hindu (all castes), it was found that being a Muslim has large and significant positive effects on participation in self­ employment8 (Bordia Das 2010; GOI 2006). Muslims perceive discrimination in employment (GOI 2006) that could be a possible explanation for their higher representation in self-employment. Discrimination in salaried employment against Muslims has led to the setting up of ‘minority enclaves’ or minority labour markets for Muslims (Bordia Das 2010). Similarly, Mhaskar (2018) shows through narra­ tives in Mumbai that discriminatory attitudes and practices in employment against ex-mill workers have resulted in their concentration in inferior self-employment in a ‘ghettoized economy’. This is in agreement with government reports that show that Muslims are engaged in small propriety enterprises in the informal sector (such as street vending), and this is more the case in urban areas (GOI 2006). This means that Muslims face socio-economic vulnerability in the self-employment sector as well. Recent NSSO and Periodic Labour Force Survey Reports continue to high­ light these disadvantages for Muslims (see, GOI 2019). The socio-economic configuration of Muslims in the research site of Delhi highlights their socio-economic disadvantages. After the migration of several elite Muslims to Pakistan (Harris-White 2003) post-independence, most Muslims in Delhi were reduced to the lower economic strata (Khalidi 2006). Caste groups such as drum makers, washer men, brick layers, milk men, oil pressers, butchers, and folk singers dominated the social composition of Muslims in Delhi (ibid). Further, recent studies have shown that there has been a steady segregation of Muslims with regard to living spaces across India (see the edited volume Muslims in Indian Cities by Gayer and Jaffrelot, 2012; also, Kazim 2018; Khan 2007; Kirmani 2013; Jamil 2017). Often employment opportunities for Muslims remain restricted to these segregated spaces (Khalidi 2006; Mhaskar 2018). This is not to deny the existence of a smaller middle-class among the Muslims in Delhi who have gained from lib­ eralization (Alam 2015; Khalidi 2006). We locate the research questions and the findings of the chapter in the contexts which have been discussed in the previous and the present sections.

Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi

159

Aspirations in India One of the crucial reasons that affect aspirations of youth is the aspirations of their parents for them, and this has been explored in the Western (Ball 2003; Bok 2010; Borlagdan 2015; Davidson 2011; Devine 2004) and Indian contexts (Beteille 1991; Donner 2008; Jeffrey et  al. 2008; Jeffrey 2010). These authors argue that while parents from all socio-economic backgrounds have educational and employment aspirations for their children, there are two crucial differences. First, the upper and middle class parents are keen to ensure that their children have aspirations for jobs which correspond to their socio-economic status. Second, they are also able to strategize to fulfil these aspirations because of their endowment of economic, cultural,9 and social capital. Since the lower classes often do not have the requisite capital, they face more difficulties in harbouring and fulfilling such aspirations for their children. Higher capital, particularly cultural capital, bestows specific knowl­ edge that instils a sense of confidence and ease, to navigate the educational and the consequent employment landscapes of children (see Ball 2003; Devine 2004; Fuller 2011; Richards 2017 in the Western context and Beteille 1991; Donner 2008 in the Indian context). The ease with which parents from upper- and middle-classes are able to ward off uncertainties regarding the educational and employment aspi­ rations of their children, on account of their capital, is often not possible for the lower classes (Ball 2003; Devine 2004). This scholarship further argues that these experiences affect the aspirations of young people for themselves. Further, neighbourhood-based experiences may play a role in the development of aspirations for employment. It is argued that segregated neighbourhoods often face issues of inadequacy of infrastructure and a reduction in livelihood options (GOI 2006; Gayer and Jaffrelot 2012), with abysmal human development indicators (Contractor 2012) and often complete state neglect (Contractor 2012; Jaffrelot and Thomas 2012). Most scholarship on aspirations in the context of neighbourhoods (examples being Paul Willis’ work (1977) in the United Kingdom and McLeod’s (2009) work in the United States) is based on deprived neighbourhoods,10 which share common characteristics with most segregated spaces for Muslims described earlier. Scholarship documents that keeping other factors constant, aspirations of youth from deprived neighbourhoods are much lower than that of youth from affluent neighbourhoods (Elliot et al. 2006; Furlong et al. 1996; Jackson and Mare 2007). Kintrea et al. (2015: 680), however, show contrasting results to these find­ ings and argue that the role of ‘class, ethnicity, history and institutions’ is impor­ tant to understand aspirations in deprived neighbourhoods. Kintrea et al.’s (2015) understanding ties up with Jamia Nagar, the segregated site for this chapter, as class differences are seen to produce differences in aspirations and attainment (Salman 2021). Additionally, Elliot et al. (2006) have found that the individual chances of success of youth living in deprived neighbourhoods depend positively on the sup­ portive role of family, peer, and schools. Jamia Nagar, while sharing some characteristics with deprived neighbour­ hoods described before, is also unique as it is mixed in terms of its socio-economic

160

Aashti Salman

composition (Jamil 2017; Kirmani 2013); its mix of authorized and unauthor­ ized localities within proximity of each other, but with differential provisioning of state benefits (Kirmani 2013); the perception among youth residents of avail­ ability of some employment opportunities (see Salman 2021; for instance); and so on. Therefore, a straightforward comparison with deprived neighbourhoods of the west and India is difficult, and this chapter bears in mind while simultaneously providing a unique context for the study of aspirations. Scholarship argues that peer groups strongly influence aspirations of both men (McLeod 2009; Willis 1977) and women (Fuller 2011; writing in the context of the United Kingdom). McLeod shows that based on their ethnic backgrounds, despite sharing deprived socio-economic backgrounds, men were divided into two groups, one with higher aspirations (African American men) and one with lower aspirations (White men). In the case of Willis’ (1977) work in the United Kingdom, working class white men reproduced their class through engaging with and valorizing their working class culture and engaging in working class occupa­ tions. Further, peer groups influence interpersonal interactions and micro-social processes through which norms are developed (Antonio 2004). These norms are shared between members of peer groups, are consensual, and exercise an influence on the aspirations of the members of the group (ibid). Similarly, Bourdieu (1977) notes that the habitus of a person which is generated (but not limited) to family socialization shapes the aspirations of individuals.

Research Questions and Method With the context explained, we now turn to the research questions that are addressed by this chapter. First, what are the employment aspirations of Muslim men who have dropped out11 from secondary schools12 (grades IX–XII)? Second, what are the reasons that shape or influence the employment aspirations of these men? Third, what were the aspirations of the Muslim men after a period of 20 months13? The study was conducted in a predominantly Muslim neighbourhood of Jamia Nagar, Delhi. Given the nature of the research questions, which are based on experiences of aspirations of Muslim men, a qualitative study was deemed feasi­ ble. Snowball sampling was used to select the men for the study. This method was feasible because of the criteria of selection of the sample. The criteria for selection of the sample were – first that the men should be Muslim and should have dropped out of secondary school.14 Second, the age group of the men should be between 18 and 25 years.15 The first round of the study, conducted between December 2016 and Febru­ ary 2017, was based on in-depth, semi-structured interviews, with 11 low-income Muslim men. The second round of the study was conducted in August  2018 and was based on focused qualitative interviews with all the 11 men. The men were classified as low-income based on (a) father’s occupation (all mothers did not engage in paid work); (b) male sibling’s occupation; (c) household monthly income; (d) asset ownership; (e) number of dependent members; (f) type of schools

Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi

161

(government, private, or government-aided) accessed by the men and their siblings; (g) and financial vulnerability based on a loan taken in the past five years to meet regular household expenses. Low-income men were selected, because on the basis of information from the neighbourhood respondents, the middle-class men were mostly not school-leavers. This understanding of low-income is based on objective indicators. Subjectively, all men identified themselves as middle-class. This under­ standing aligns with studies on class in India, for instance Dickey (2016) shows that people who might objectively be classified as lower-class might identify themselves as middle class with respect to others, similar to their class backgrounds. A majority of the men identified themselves as ‘Alvis’, which, according to one of the youth respondents, was an upper caste. That informant said that when people ask him about his caste, he informs that he is ‘Sheikh’, which according to him (and works on caste among Muslims, Saberwal 2010; Trivedi et al. 2016) is an upper caste. The relevance of caste with regard to the aspirations of the men, as well as the employment opportunities available for them, was difficult to gauge from the interviews, as none of the men spoke of its role.16 None of the men belonged to families engaged in caste-based occupations, and none cited aspirations in such occupations (more on this in the following section). All except two of the 11 male school-leavers were residents in the Okhla17 locality of Jamia Nagar. This locality is situated at a distance of about 500 meters from the Jamia Millia Islamia University. Jamia Nagar is a generic name given to 17 localities18 around the Jamia Millia Islamia University, Delhi, that are dominated by Muslims. Jamia Nagar is selected as the research site to study aspirations, because the localities comprising the area provide a crucial context in terms of social net­ works and avenues for self-employment activities. This is an important considera­ tion, given the findings of the SCR discussed before and which informs the present research. Second, Muslim men who have left school at the secondary level were feasible to locate in a Muslim majority neighbourhood. Third, the Jamia Millia University19 is situated in this neighbourhood, which provides opportunities for higher education for youth living in this neighbourhood. This might potentially have a positive bearing on the aspirations of youth. Fourth, these localities are well connected to the rest of the National Capital Region of Delhi, providing an easy physical mobility to the youth. This can potentially shape a diverse range of career aspirations. This study acknowledges the limitations of selecting only low-income men in a single locality in Delhi. Socio-economic backgrounds and the role of neighbourhood overwhelmingly inform the findings of this study.

The Main Findings from Jamia Nagar Table 8.1 summarizes the aspirations of the men in 2016–17 and also highlights the occupation they were engaged in during that period. It shows that an over­ whelming majority of the men aspired for activities in self-employment and related professions. Before discussing the main reasons that shape the aspirations, it is cru­ cial to take note of the issue of dropout and its link with aspirations. All the men

162

TABLE 8.1 Aspirations of the Muslim Men in 2016–2017; Occupations in 2016–17 and in 2018

Age in 2016–17 (Years)

Grade Completed

Aspiration in 2016–17

Actual Occupation in 2016–17

Actual Occupation in 2018

Shaukat

19

XI

Wanted to start his own cellular repair shop.

Vegetable vendor, which was their family occupation.

Aadil

23

XI

Wanted to start his own pharmacy store.

Ashwaq

22

X

Wanted to start his own mechanic shop.

Salman

18

X

Munawwar

19

IX

Maazin

19

X

Wanted to start his own cellular repair shop. Wanted to become a crew member with an airlines company. Was also interested in starting a private tuition/ coaching centre, if the first plan did not work out. Wanted to become a musician.

Apprenticed at cellular repair shop. In January 2017, he started his cellular repair shop from a room in his house. Worked in a private pharmaceutical company and managed their sales division. Owned a mechanic shop in partnership with his friend. The shop was run from a room in his house. Worked in a cellular repair shop in Hyderabad as an apprentice. Worked as an electrician in his brother’s electrical repair shop.

Worked as a musician at private restaurants. Assisted with his father’s business.

Musician and helped with father’s business

Same as 2016–17

Unemployed

Salesperson at a garment shop in Okhla Unemployed

Aashti Salman

Name

X

Wanted to restart his restaurant and also resume his work as a broker.

Waris

18

X

Wanted to start a video and photo editing business.

Abdullah

19

X

Wanted to become a fashion model or a bike racer.

Shiraz

25

IX

Arif

23

X

After dropping out from school, he said that he did not have aspirations as he was sure he will be running his father’s grocery store. He would inherit the store after he gets married. Aspired to become an actor. Given the family responsibilities and his socio­ economic background, he was torn between keeping his current job, and giving it up to enrol in an acting institute.

Was unemployed as his business as a property broker ended due to the slump in the housing market. Started a restaurant in Jamia Nagar, but that too closed down because it was unable to withstand competition from other businesses. Worked as a peon in Jamia on a contractual basis. This was his father’s job but was given to Waris upon the former’s death. He was waiting to get his father’s clerical job in the Indian Railways, after the latter’s death. The job is permanent in nature. Worked part-time at his father’s grocery store and his younger brother’s mobile repair shop. Both the shops are owned by the family.

Unemployed

Worked as a masseuse at a well-known chain of salons in Delhi.

Same as 2016–17

Same as 2016–17

Took his deceased father’s job at the Indian Railways

Running his father’s grocery shop

163

25

Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi

Fawzan

164

Aashti Salman

in the present study were secondary school-leavers.20 Most of the men voiced an interest in completing school and moving into higher education, through distance learning, at the time of the first round of the interviews. At that time, they were confronted with the problem of reduced choice in terms of employment opportu­ nities, because of limited educational credentials. Aspirations were exercised within these limited opportunities, and the experiences impacting these aspirations are described in the next section.

Family-based Experiences and Personal Attitude In congruence with the literature on aspirations of low-income parents for their children in the Western context (Ball 2003; Devine 2004), the parents in Jamia Nagar were keen for their sons to aspire for professional jobs for a better future. For instance one parent wanted her son to become a doctor, and the parents of another two respondents aspired to see their sons as engineers. As the mother of one of the male respondents said: Education is important. If a person wants to do any type of work on any position, then they will be chosen on the basis of their educational qualifications. Also, notes [money] are essential [to realize career aspirations]. Without money will anybody think about doing something? [in terms of aspirations]. Interview with Bano, December 6th, 2016 Parents’ aspirations and the aspirations of the men for themselves lowered by the time the men reached secondary school, mainly because of the structural barriers to success in education. These barriers were a result of the inability of parents to marshal sufficient economic and cultural capital into the education of their chil­ dren in the absence of state benefits and welfare (see Jeffrey 2010 for instance, for similar findings in Uttar Pradesh). Consequently, this reduced the ability of the parents and the men to navigate the cultural spaces and the norms of the society, thereby resulting in a lower capacity to aspire (Appadurai 2004), over time. Schol­ arship documents that while aspirations of youth (and parents) from lower socio­ economic backgrounds were high in the early-to-mid teen years of the youth, they were lowered over time as the youth were confronted with structural barriers to success (Bourdieu 1977; Rose and Baird 2013). Fischer (2014) conceptualizes this as ‘frustrated freedoms’ that is defined as when aspirations for the good life are high and the agency to act upon them is present, structural barriers prevent people from realizing them. That said, research on differences between the aspirations of young people, all from working class backgrounds in the context of the United Kingdom, shows that youth with high academic grades, aspirations for professional jobs from a young age, and a commitment towards following the same aspirations were often success­ ful in attaining their aspirations (Croll 2008; Fuller 2011). Similarly, the brother of a respondent in Jamia Nagar was enrolled in a hotel management course at a

Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi

165

reputed institute in Delhi. Shiraz21 informed that his brother was always academi­ cally brighter, concentrated on his studies, and was determined to find a highincome job. Both Shiraz and his brother grew up in the same household, faced the same socio-economic conditions, and attended the same school. Hence, the habi­ tus22 of the two men was not significantly different. Shiraz’s brother comes closer to the high aspirers mentioned in Croll (2008) and Fuller’s (2011) work and point to the role of agency of young people in overcoming structural barriers. The role of agency can also be seen through the work of McLeod (2009) where men from similar socio-economic but different ethnic backgrounds had different aspirations for school and employment, although the agency of high aspirers wanes over time. The important role given to agency in aspirations ties up with Appadurai’s (2004) understanding of the capacity to aspire, which is a capacity build by either individuals or groups (social movements are one example). Appadurai, however, does not adequately account for the role of the state in providing benefits to mar­ ginalized communities. The role of the individual to sustain higher capacities to aspire, as we can see, is supported in only a single narrative in Jamia Nagar and therefore remains significantly limited.

Neighbourhood, Peer Groups, and Social Networks The family, male siblings, including those married, and peer group/friends of the respondents were overwhelmingly located in Okhla. All, except two men, lived in the same neighbourhood since birth and attended schools in the neighbour­ hood. The male respondents had limited interaction with people from outside the Muslim-dominated localities around the Jamia University. Research that shows that many Muslims living in urban, segregated areas and the geographic boundaries of these spaces also mediate their social interactions, with limited social mixing reported outside of the neighbourhood (see Gayer 2012; Kirmani 2008, both in the context of localities in Jamia Nagar). Due to these reasons, the neighbourhood influence was likely higher for the men in Jamia Nagar.23 The neighbourhood environment for most of the men was not conducive for education. For instance Shiraz lamented that he wasted too much of his time when he started socializing with the other boys, once he shifted to Jamia Nagar from a neighbourhood in East Delhi. These boys were involved in ‘hanging around’ (Jef­ frey 2010; McLeod 2009) the neighbourhood and skipping school. With time, Shiraz lost interest in his studies and his grades started falling, resulting in him dropping out from school. Consequently, Shiraz believed he lacked the educational qualifications required for a job and decided to assist his father in his business. The economy of Jamia Nagar, with its growing demand for self-employment services, because of a steady if not growing resident and student population, further influ­ enced male school-leavers like Shiraz into seeking a career in self-employment activities. The aspirations of the male respondents for self-employment are also guided by the norms of their peer groups, as has been discussed in a previous section of

166

Aashti Salman

this chapter. The peer groups of the men in Jamia Nagar had mostly left school, many of them dropping out before completing VIII grade. These peers also aspired to engage in self-employment activities, and most of them wanted to set up busi­ nesses in Jamia Nagar. Some of the contemporaries of the respondents in Okhla found success in self-employment and were the local role models.24 Among the peer group who completed higher education, none were employed in either gov­ ernment jobs or in established private companies. Rather, they were struggling to find jobs or were engaged in low paid work25 in the informal sector. Despite their college degrees, these peers also aspired to engage in self-employment activities26 overwhelmingly in Jamia Nagar. The social networks27 of the men and their families were concentrated almost exclusively in self-employment activities. Some of the parents and almost all male siblings were engaged in self-employment. These reasons facilitated an entry into self-employment activities for the men. This finding is in consonance with scholar­ ship that reports the importance of social networks in the context of employment among Muslims (Jeffrey et  al. 2008; Mhaskar 2018). Despite Jamia Nagar being socio-economically diverse, with youth located in professional jobs such as doc­ tors, lawyers, professors, engineers, and so on, the respondents’ associations and networks remained within their own social class, thereby containing aspirations within those peer networks.

Self-Employment As a majority of the male siblings and peers of the respondents were involved in self-employment activities, their aspiration window (Ray 2002) was limited to seeking a career in self-employment. This makes self-employment as one of the most important reasons that affect the aspirations of the Muslim male schoolleavers in Jamia Nagar. A densely populated area, Jamia Nagar has over the years developed several large and small markets, offering a variety of goods and services.28 Further, success stories of local entrepreneurs, many of whom were not several years older than the male school-leavers and were with perhaps even fewer edu­ cational credentials made the prospect of engaging in self-employment activities more lucrative for the men. The residents of Okhla also associated engagement in self-employment activities as a dignified and a respectful profession, as compared to jobs in the informal sector accessible to them. The ownership of a petty business was associated with a sense of power and prestige. The men found the earnings accruing from self-employment activities to be sufficiently higher than what some of them and their peers were earning in the informal salaried sector. While the men identified as middle class in relative terms, living and performing that identity were also important (for the performance of middle class identities in India, see Dickey (2016). For the men, ‘izzat’, translated as ‘respect’, was the most discernible feature of middle and upper class identity (also see Dickey 2016; Donner and De Neve 2011). The aspiration for self-employment, with its association with respect

Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi

167

and prestige, was a crucial way to live and perform that identity. Low-paying casual employment was rejected because it was a less respectable profession, associated with lower classes. For these reasons, self-employment activities had all the offer­ ings of what the men would associate with a ‘good job’. Shaukat: Everyone wants to do their own -work. . . . What is the benefit in other jobs? Own -work has the most benefit, you keep all the money. . . . It is a simple question, you have studied and you have looked for a job, how much money will you make?. . . . Even if you assume you make [INR] 50,000, if I do my own-work then I will straight away make [INR] 1,50,000. . . . Own-work is own-work. . . other work [working for others] is other-work. . . . It is not only about money, in all aspects own-work is best. . . . You can go whenever, you can come back whenever, you can shut your shop. If you take a day’s leave in a company [you are working for] your salary will be deducted. Interview with Shaukat, 2nd December 2016 Another youth informant who had completed school said that Muslims have been engaged in self-employment since the times of the Prophet Muhammad, and it is considered virtuous for Muslims to engage in business. Ronny: It is my view also that it is better for a person to take up his own business rather than working for others. After all working for others is like being a servant (kisi ne kaha hai na naukar(ee)). And you know our own business is something which we [Muslims] have been doing since the time when the Prophet was alive. . . . It is considered advisable (sunnat) [according to the Quran]. Second, how much will you earn if you are working for someone else? Eight thousand to ten thousand? [INR per month]. Interview with Ronny, 4th January, 2017 The narratives in Jamia Nagar can be contrasted with the works such as Chatterjee (2017), which document that self-employment did not feature in the aspirations of the youth in Kolkata. Rather, because of the falling profitability in traditional occu­ pations, Muslim youth in Kolkata were shifting away from self-employment into working as wage labourers in similar industries. Muslim women in Samanta’s study (2016) were also not interested in self-employment but cited aspirations for other jobs. Jeffrey et al. show that self-employment did not feature in the set of aspirations of Muslim men in Uttar Pradesh, at least for some years after their school education (Jeffrey et al. 2008). These men aspired to enter lower-level government services, but because of limited political clout and low economic and social capital, they found it difficult to obtain jobs in the government sector. The failure to get such jobs resulted in them moving towards community-based networks to find employment oppor­ tunities, often in traditional occupations like tailoring, machine embroidery, and metal work. It seems that unlike Kolkata, traditional occupations in and around Uttar

168

Aashti Salman

Pradesh were relatively profitable to take up for Muslims and tied up with Kazim’s (2018) work among youth in poor Muslim neighbourhood Hyderabad. While these are localized studies, data by the SCR shows that industries where historically Muslims were concentrated (tailoring, silk industries, handlooms, leather industry, automobile repairing) have not been able to withstand competi­ tion induced through internal and external liberalization, and Muslims have lost employment in such industries (GOI 2006). Despite this finding, in urban areas, the SCR has noted that in terms of occupational profiles, Muslims are still repre­ sented in large proportions within these traditional occupations. However, in Jamia Nagar, the youth did not belong to families where male members were engaged in traditional occupations, and perhaps because of this (and the falling profitability of the occupations) their aspirations were also not geared towards such occupations.

Optimism on Account of Self-Employment The respondents were optimistic about their future, in 2016–17, possibly due to opportunities within self-employment. Most of the men believed that if they work hard enough, which they had so far failed to do, they would gain success. Arif: Look, if a person has to reach a [higher] level [of achievement] then he has to climb the first step. And he will move ahead only if he works hard. . . . No one knows where his luck will take him. . . . it all depends on hard work. Interview with Arif, 28th December, 2016 One of the respondents narrated the story of his cousin, a local entrepreneur, whose determination towards hard work made him one of the most successful businessmen in Okhla. The cousin dropped out of school in grade V with the aspiration of making it big in the food business. Starting out as a kebab vendor, he struggled for success and was now the owner of a chain of restaurants across Delhi. Hard work figured in his narrative: Ronny: You must have seen that this man [his cousin] has done what not [to run his business]. He has never given up. He even stood with his kebab cart in the rain [working] without caring for what others have to say. No work is below you. That is it. Your thinking should be right. Everything depends on hard work. Interview with Ronny, 4th January, 2017 Another respondent narrated the story of his idol Mukesh Ambani – the head of Reliance and the richest man in India and attributed his rise to success to hard work. Adil: To tell you the truth, Ambani. He is a businessman and is successful. I have always been interested in [starting my own] business. Interview with Adil, 4th December, 2016

Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi

169

The respondents used these examples to argue that if Muslim men across Delhi lacked a quality, it was that of working hard, which also explained their socio-economic backwardness. Structural barriers such as social class, religious backgrounds, and segregated living spaces were relatively unimportant. This ties up with Gooptu’s work (2013) wherein images of successful people such as Dhirubhai Ambani have been depicted in movies and constructed them as role models for the youth. Further, for a majority of the men in Jamia Nagar, belonging to a lower socio­ economic background actually motivated people to work hard. Most believed that between two men – one from an upper/middle-class background and the other from a lower-class background – the chances of completing school and getting a job are higher for the latter. They explained that the lower-class man would be motivated to change his socio-economic status, which can only happen if he works hard and gets a good job. Ashwaq: The better job will be accessed by the lower-class man. He will think that he needs to get more successful and study more. Now the rich are [involved in] big businesses, these big people do not need jobs, they have to do their own business. They have a lot of money. But the poor person wants to study and do something [in terms of employment], so that he is able to have a good time in the future. Interview with Ashwaq, 5th December, 2016

Shaukat: They can move ahead in life. The poor can make it . . . there are so many people who are strong and sturdy but they are seen begging. . . but if they start any­ thing [business], will it not work? There are so many people who come from else­ where, like Nepal, China. They earn so much money. So if people from Delhi start working hard, then would not our India become the number one country? In the context of India, works such as those by Gooptu show that ‘hard work’ was an important aspect of the work ethos among youth from lower middle class backgrounds working in the retail sector in Kolkata (Gooptu 2009). This logic was inculcated by their employers to ensure that the youth would be willing to work for long hours on low incomes without overt pressure and surveillance, in alignment with the requirements of liberalized India. The optimistic narratives from Jamia Nagar do not correspond to research that shows Muslims perceive discrimination in gaining access to education and employment on account of their religious identity (Banerjee et  al. 2009; Chat­ terjee 2017; GOI 2006; Mhaskar 2018; Thorat and Attewell 2010). Research has however shown that Delhi often provides the impetus to young men from poor backgrounds, to sustain their optimism regarding their aspirations, despite facing structural hardships (Zabiliute 2016). Vaid (2017) has similarly noted that while citing hardships, Delhi was also regarded offering a range of possibilities in terms of education and employment, among female youth.

170

Aashti Salman

In the neoliberal era characterized by the absence of state benefits, aspirations are a particular form of social hope which is based around promoting individual­ ized social mobility (Desai 2020; Jeffrey 2010; Mankekar 2015). In Jamia Nagar, the optimism of the men regarding their aspirations can be contextualized within this neo-liberal discourse, where merit and hard work are the criteria on the basis of which individual competence is assigned (Bourdieu 1998). In this process, the crucial issue of social stratification (that determines merit to a large extent) is largely overlooked (ibid). Similar arguments are made in the context of the Indian middleclass which is seen to utilize individual capital for realizing aspirations, especially cultural capital that is often not socially recognized or is made invisible as property (Deshpande 2003). This makes cultural capital being misrecognized as merit or innate ability in society, according to Deshpande (2003). Bourdieu also argues that through long-term investment in its production, dissem­ ination, and inculcation, this neo-liberal ideology has become legitimate knowledge and is seen by people as unquestionable and inevitable or as ‘doxa’. In the context of aspirations in the Western context, Zipin et al. highlight that the logic of the doxa [C]arry a power of symbolic violence since they codify the norms, and so select for the success, of those in relatively powerful positions, yet hold sway among others whose lack of success thus appears justified as the result of ‘deficits’, or ‘lacks’, of aspiration or aptitude. (Zipin et al. 2015: 231) In the context of India, authors such as Chopra (2003) have shown that the neo-liberal ideology has been established as doxa, particularly through the work­ ing of the education system which has been dominated by the elite sections from the colonial times to the present. It is through propagating the ethos of hard work and merit that the elite have been able to justify their advantageous position over the society. The belief of the men in the ideology of hard work can be potentially contextualized within this literature.

Distress-Driven Nature of Self-Employment The optimistic narratives from Jamia Nagar notwithstanding, it is important to highlight the limitations faced by the men, which point towards the distress-driven nature of self-employment. Khalidi (2006) and the SCR (GOI 2006) highlight that many Muslims are involved in traditional occupations, and we have noted that this was not the case with the men in Jamia Nagar. Additionally, the men also lacked educational credentials necessary for professional jobs. These limita­ tions imposed constraints upon them which pushed them towards aspiring for selfemployment in non-traditional occupations, because essentially that was the only opportunity available to the men for a better life. It should be noted that within self-employment, opportunities were sought where social networks were available. These networks were available only in Jamia Nagar. Further, the networks were

Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi

171

limited to a handful of occupations, constraining the pool of self-employment available for the men. The distress-driven nature of self-employment, however, was not realized by most of the men, as the last section highlighted that a majority of them were optimistic about their future. There were contradictions in the narratives of the men during the first round of the study. Some men who were optimistic about self-employment opportunities also cited anxieties regarding their future during the course of a single interview. These contradictory views potentially stem from the social conditions pertaining to the neo-liberal paradox where aspirations are encouraged within pre­ carious conditions imposed by reduced benefits and opportunities (Jeffrey 2010). The anxiety of the men was related to the limitation of economic resources required for a business and the intense competition associated with self-employment activi­ ties in a somewhat saturated economy of Jamia Nagar. The feasibility of fulfilling aspirations for self-employment among the men becomes clearer in the next section.

Aspirations of the Men in 2018 Meeting aspirations, at least in the short term, was a challenge as after 20 months, none of the 11 men had met their aspirations. The most important reason for those who were unable to set up their businesses was the inability to get access to eco­ nomic resources and credit. Two men with businesses in 2017 were forced to close because they were not able to withstand competition from similar businesses. Both incurred loss and were trying to find ways to clear the debts they owed to their friends and families. Family helped some to withstand the burden of loss, such as Shaukat, who shifted from a cellular phone maintenance centre to managing his family-run work of selling vegetables: Papa was unwell for a long time and in his absence there was no one to manage his vegetable cart. My mother felt that I should give up the shop [that he was given by his parents for establishing the cellular repair shop] on rent. We were having trouble with money, have been for some time now. I decided to listen to her advice. I have also been managing the vegetable cart for the past several months. Interview with Shaukat, 27th August 2018 The ones who did not have family’s self-employment as an option resorted to work­ ing in low paid employment. This was the case with Salman, who was apprenticing at a mobile phone maintenance centre in Hyderabad during 2016 and early 2017. He consequently failed to set up his shop upon his return to Delhi, because of the lack of economic resources. He started working as a salesman at a local garment shop, earning an income of INR 7,000 per month. Even though the aspirations for self-employment are indeed distress driven for the male school-leavers, realizing them in the short run is fraught with extreme difficulties. Due to the lack of success in either finding respectable paid work or in setting up their business, during the second phase of interviews, the residents

172

Aashti Salman

of Okhla often referred to them as ‘kuch nahi karte, aise hi ghoomte rehte hain’ (they do nothing, like that they only roam around). This is similar to the youth in Jef­ frey’s (2010) study who were waiting for work opportunities to come by, thereby describing themselves as engaging in ‘timepass’. While the optimism of some of the men reduced considerably, most of them still hung on to the hope of setting up their businesses in the future. This finding resonates with work elsewhere in the global South, for instance among educated men with middle-class hopes of a good life in Cairo, Egypt (Pettit 2019). These men were able to sustain their hopes, despite struggling for long periods to find employ­ ment, because of the illusion created by neo-liberalism that everyone can attain their vision of a good life, provided that they believe in the system of meritocracy (ibid).

Conclusion Liberalization in India has created a paradox whereby higher access to education and circulation of images of social mobility via media and advertisements (Fer­ nandes 2006; Mankekar 2015) have created distinct aspirations among youth for a good life. At the same time, there are inadequate employment opportunities available for youth, which has resulted in rising youth unemployment and under­ employment (Jeffrey 2010; Kumar 2016). Some socio-religious groups have been left behind more than the others, an example being Muslims. The SCR highlights that Muslims in India face acute employment-based disadvantages, low educational participation, and perceived discrimination in employment and face actual or per­ ceived threats to their security, resulting in their spatial segregation (Gayer and Jaffrelot 2012; Jamil 2017). Despite these issues, research has not explored reasons shaping aspirations and mobility claims of Muslims and has not located these within local contexts such as segregated neighbourhoods. Within this context, the aim of the chapter was to find the employment-based aspirations and the reasons that influence the employment aspirations of Muslim youth. Further, the chapter wanted to understand the developments in the aspira­ tions of the Muslim men after 20 months. The study was conducted in a single segregated neighbourhood of Jamia Nagar in Delhi, among low-income Muslim men who were school-leavers. In agreement with research on aspirations of youth globally and within India, this study found family-based experiences and neighbourhood and peer group influences to shape employment aspirations of the men in Jamia Nagar. The crucial finding of the chapter is the importance of self-employment activities in shaping the aspirations of men in Jamia Nagar. Self-employment was preferred in Jamia Nagar because of the scope of earning income and stability denied by the irregular employment available to the men; the chance of earning respect in the society; the burgeoning demand for self-employment activities in Jamia Nagar; and the success stories associated with self-employment among role models. In terms of availability of opportunities, self-employment was one of the only means through which the men could aspire for a better life (Fischer 2014). Engagement in self-employment,

Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi

173

for the men, had the making of a ‘good job’, and during the first round of the study in 2016–17, they believed in their ability to be successful in such activities. Critically though, despite the optimism of the men in Jamia Nagar, in the wake of limited employment opportunities available under liberalization, the distress-driven nature of self-employment is difficult to dismiss. While self-employment was seen by the men as their chance of attaining suc­ cess, their lack of adequate economic resources prevented them from realizing these modest aspirations for self-employment. The result was that apart from the few men who were able to find employment which paid them a monthly salary above the minimum wage in Delhi, after a period of 20 months, most were either work­ ing in low-income self-employment occupations owned by their fathers or were unemployed. This chapter, as an exploratory study, explains the possible experi­ ences that push low-income Muslims into precarious self-employment activities or work in the informal sector with poor remuneration, despite positive aspirations and struggles. The struggles of the men for mobility tied up with the work of Fis­ cher (2014) wherein people’s high aspirations and agency in the wake of limited opportunities led to the issue of ‘frustrated freedoms’.

Notes 1 See Fernandes (2006), for instance, for the heterogeneity of the Indian middle-class. 2 In India, government sources and policies identify youth as people within the ages of 15–29 years, and the ages of the respondents fall within this bracket. 3 Aspirations are seen as the future-oriented desire for upward mobility through employ­ ment; about expressing status and lifestyle (Appadurai 1996); as well as what it means to have a good life (Fischer 2014). 4 Muslims in India show variations in terms of socio-economic indicators on the basis of their class, caste, gender, and spatial locations (see Gayer and Jaffrelot 2012; GOI 2006; Saberwal 2010; Trivedi et al. 2016). 5 The National Sample Survey Reports in India define regular wage employees as per­ sons who work in enterprises owned by others and, in return, receive salaries or wages on a regular basis – that is not on the basis of daily or periodic renewal of work con­ tract (http://mospi.nic.in/sites/default/files/publication_reports/nss_rep_539.pdf last accessed on 15.09.2018). 6 The socio-religious groups are the Hindu Upper Castes, Hindu Other Backward Classes (OBCs), Scheduled Castes, Scheduled Tribes, and Muslims. 7 Here, data is highlighted for urban India because the field site for this chapter is located in urban Delhi. 8 According to the NSSO, self-employed people are persons who operated their own farm or non-farm enterprises or were engaged independently in a profession or trade on own-account or with one or a few partners were treated as self-employed in household enterprises. The essential feature of the self-employed is that they have autonomy (decide how, where and when to produce) and economic independence (in respect of choice of market, scale of operation and finance) for carrying out their operation. The remuneration of the self-employed consists of a non-separable combination of two parts: a reward for their labour and profit of their enterprise. (http://mospi.nic.in/sites/default/files/publication_reports/nss_ report_568_19feb16.pdf, last accessed on 19.04.2019) This is the understanding of self-employed used by the SCR and other government reports.

174

Aashti Salman

9 Cultural capital, according to Bourdieu, can exist in three forms. The first is the embod­ ied state or the ‘long- lasting dispositions of the mind and body’ (Bourdieu 1986: 47). The second is the objectified state or ‘in the form of cultural goods (pictures, books, dictionaries, instruments, machines)’ (ibid: 47). The third state is the institutionalized state, which exists broadly in the form of educational qualifications (ibid). 10 Deprivation was measured through the level of overcrowding in the neighbourhood, male unemployment, social class, car ownership et al. 11 For more details on the reasons and experiences contributing to secondary school drop­ out among Muslim men in Jamia Nagar, see Salman (2017, 2020). 12 In India, secondary schooling is from grades IX to XII and is often divided into second­ ary (grades IX–X) and higher secondary (grades XI–XII) (GOI 2015). 13 The follow-up study was conducted as a part of this chapter. This took place after a period of 20 months from the first round of fieldwork conducted by the author in 2016–17. While the period under consideration is not particularly long, it was able to capture the short-term failure of realizing aspirations for the men. 14 The chapter is based on the MPhil research of the author, which addressed the rea­ sons for secondary school dropout and the subsequent employment aspirations of Muslim men in Jamia Nagar. This explains the reason for selecting school-leavers or dropouts. 15 This age group was chosen because only adults were interviewed. The upper age limit was decided at 25 years to ease the process of recalling experiences of dropout. This age group was also suitable for understanding present employment aspirations. 16 One probable explanation is that while caste exists among Muslims, in practice, mobi­ lization along caste lines often occurs to gain economic and political resources. For instance Ali (2002) shows that in Hyderabad, Muslim corporate caste groups (Qureshis or butchers for instance) maintain a stronger identity as compared to other forward castes because the latter’s status depends more on achieved identities via education and employment. Since none of the men interviewed reported as belonging to caste groups in traditional occupations, perhaps the importance of caste in getting employment opportunities was not significant. 17 Okhla was selected because the key informant who facilitated the snowball sampling resided there. 18 http://ceodelhi.gov.in/ConstituentyDetailENG1.aspx?num=agbjWv9iAQ5rcCI6VQ/ YmQ==&ii=e [last accessed on 07.08.2018] 19 The Jamia University is a minority institute that gives reservations to students from religious minorities such as Muslims. The present National Democratic Alliance (NDA) government has however challenged the minority status of the Jamia. The matter is pres­ ently sub-judice. 20 The two important reasons for dropout were the requirement to engage in paid employ­ ment and losing interest in studies/failure to pass examinations. (The NSS data from the 71st Round also highlights these two reasons as the most important factors contributing to dropout of Muslims between grades IX and XII in Delhi (Salman 2017)). This issue, coupled with other reasons, such as limited cultural capital and the low educational attainment of the neighbourhood and peer group, contributed to school leaving. It should be noted that access to government schooling in the neighbourhood was easy, and the problem facing youth was retention. 21 All names are changed. 22 The capital associated with a person’s familial background creates long-lasting mental and physical dispositions, which guide the person’s everyday practices and behaviour. This is what Bourdieu broadly means by the habitus (Bourdieu and Wacquant 1992). Works such as Bourdieu and Wacquant (1992) and Harker (1984) have shown that the habitus is not fixed, varying across time and space. 23 More time spent in the neighbourhood translates into higher neighbourhood influence on the life chances of individuals, as shown by works such as Jackson and Mare (2007), for instance.

Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi

175

24 Despite the presence of middle and upper-class Muslim men around their localities, the respondents did not consider them to be a part of their reference group. 25 Jobs for men in Jamia Nagar paid an average of INR 8,000 per month, well below the minimum wage for unskilled workers in Delhi. (www.delhi.gov.in/wps/wcm/connect/ doit_labour/Labour/Home/Minimum+Wages/ last accessed on 25.08.2018). 26 The relative difficulty in finding jobs even with graduate degrees is not inconsistent with countrywide data. For instance youth unemployment is seen to increase with the level of education over successive periods (Bairagya 2018; also Jeffrey 2010 and Jeffrey et al. 2008 show field-based narratives consistent with this data). Further, youth unemployment is higher in urban areas (Chandrasekhar and Ghosh 2007; Ghose 1999; Jha 2003). 27 Based on Bourdieu’s understanding, there are important linkages between social capital and social networks: the membership of a network provides access to the collectively owned capital avail­ able within it which can be mobilized to an individual’s advantage. The size and value of the capital available within the network however, is determined by both size of the network and the structural location of those within it. Therefore, accessibility to and accumulation of social capital is not open to all. (Fuller 2011: 20) Others like Lin also highlight the links between social networks (social relations and interactions) and social capital (Lin 1999). 28 These range from local banks to private schools, garments and cloth markets to restau­ rants and travel agencies. Several owners of these businesses are local residents, who are now expanding their self-employment activities outside Jamia Nagar.

References Alam, A. 2015. ‘Emergence of Muslim Middle Class in Post-Independence India and Its Political Orientation’. Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs, 35(1): 123–140. Ali, S. 2002. ‘Collective and Elective Ethnicity: Caste among Urban Muslims in India’. Sociological Forum, 17(4): 593–620. Antonio, A.L. 2004. ‘The Influence of Friendship Groups on Intellectual Self-Confidence and Educational Aspirations in College’. The Journal of Higher Education, 75(4): 446–471. Appadurai, A. 1996. Modernity at Large. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Appadurai, A. 2004. ‘The Capacity to Aspire: Culture and Terms of Recognition’. In Cul­ ture and Public Action, edited by Vijendra Rao and Michael Walton, 59–84. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Bairagya, I. 2018. ‘Why Is Unemployment Higher among the Uneducated?’. Economic and Political Weekly, LIII(7): 43–51. Ball, S.J. 2003. Class Strategies and the Education Market: The Middle Classes and Social Advan­ tage. London: Routledge Falmer. Banerjee, A., Bertrand, M., Dutta, S. and Mullainathan, S. 2009. ‘Labour Market Dis­ crimination in Delhi: Evidence from an Experiment’. MIT Open Access Articles. https://dspace.mit.edu/bitstream/handle/1721.1/52303/ResumePaper_July24. pdf?sequence=1&isAllowed=y (last accessed on 16.05.2022). Beteille, A. 1991. ‘The Reproduction of Inequality: Occupation, Caste and Family’. Contri­ butions to Indian Sociology, 25(1): 3–28. Bok, J. 2010. ‘Capacity to Aspire to Higher Education: “It’s Like Making Them Do a Play without a Script”’. Critical Studies in Education, 51(2): 163–178. Bordia Das, M. 2010. ‘Minority Status and Labour Market Outcomes: Does India Have Minor­ ity Enclaves?’. In Blocked by Caste: Economic Discrimination in Modern India, edited by Sukhdeo Thorat and Katherine S. Newman, 328–353. New Delhi: Oxford University Press.

176

Aashti Salman

Borlagdan, J. 2015. ‘Inequality and 21 Year Olds’ Negotiation of Uncertain Transition to Employment: A Bourdieusian Approach’. Journal of Youth Studies, 18(7): 839–854. Bourdieu, P. 1977. Outline of a Theory of Practice. New York: Cambridge University Press. Bourdieu, P. 1986. ‘Forms of Capital’. In Handbook to Theory and Research for the Sociology of Education, edited by John Richardson, 46–58. New York: Greenwood. Bourdieu, P. 1998. ‘The “Myth” of Globalization and the Welfare State’. In Acts of Resist­ ance: against the Tyranny of the Market, edited by Pierre Bourdieu, 29–45. New York: The New Press. Bourdieu, P. and Wacquant, L. 1992. An Invitation to Reflexive Sociology. Cambridge: Polity Press. Brown, T., Scrace, T.J. and Ganguly-Scrace, R. 2017. ‘Globalised Dreams, Local Con­ straints: Migration and Youth Aspirations in an Indian Regional Town.’ Children’s Geog­ raphies, 15(5): 531–544. Chandrasekhar, C.P. and Ghosh, J. 2007. The Market That Failed: A  Decade of Economic Reforms in India. Delhi: Left World Books. Chatterjee, A. 2017. Margins of Citizenship: Muslim Experiences in Urban India. New Delhi: Routledge. Chopra, R. 2003. ‘Neoliberalism as Doxa: Bourdieu’s Theory of the State and the Contem­ porary Indian Discourse on Globalization and Liberalization’. Cultural Studies 17(3/4): 419–444. Contractor, Q. 2012. ‘ “Unwanted in my City”’: The Making of a “Muslim Slum” in Mum­ bai’. In Muslims in Indian Cities: Trajectories of Marginalisation, edited by L. Gayer and C. Jaffrelot, 23–42. London: Hurst. Croll, P. 2008. ‘Occupational Choice, Socio-Economic Status and Educational Attainment: A Study of the Occupational Choices and Destinations of Young People in the British Household Panel Survey’. Research Papers in Education, 23(3): 243–268. Davidson, E. 2011. The Burden of Aspiration: Schools, Youth, and Success in the Divided Social Worlds of Silicon Valley. New York: New York University Press. Desai, K. 2020. ‘Life Skills as Affective Labour: Skilling Girls with Gendered Enterprise’. Journal of South Asian Studies, 43(4): 705–722. Deshpande, S. 2003. Contemporary India: A Sociological View. Delhi: Penguin Books. Devine, F. 2004. Class Practices: How Parents Help Their Children Get Good Jobs. New York: Cambridge University Press. Dickey, S. 2016. Living Class in Urban India. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Donner, H. 2008. Domestic Goddesses: Maternity, Globalization and Middle-Class Identity in Contemporary India. Burlington: Ashgate Publications. Donner, H. and De Neve, G. 2011. ‘Introduction’. In Being Middle Class in India: A Way of Life, edited by Henrike Donner, 1–22. New York: Routledge. Elliot, D.S., Menard, S., Rankin, B., Elliott, W.A., Wilson, W.J. and Huizinga, D. 2006. Good Kids from Bad Neighbourhoods: Successful Development in Social Context. New York: Cambridge University Press. Fernandes, L. 2006. India’s New Middle Class: Democratic Politics in an Era of Economic Reforms. Minneapolis: Minnesota University Press. Fernandes, L. and Heller, P.  2011. ‘Hegemonic Aspirations’. Critical Asian Studies, 38(4): 495–522. Fischer, E.F. 2014. The Good Life: Aspiration, Dignity and the Anthropology of Well Being. Stan­ ford: Stanford University Press. Fuller, C. 2011. Sociology, Gender and Educational Aspirations: Girls and Their Ambitions. Lon­ don: Continuum.

Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi

177

Furlong, A., Biggart, A. and Cartmel, F. 1996. ‘Neighbourhoods, Opportunity Structures and Occupational Aspirations’. Sociology, 30(3): 551–565. Gayer, L. 2012. ‘Safe and Sound: Searching for a “Good Environment” in Abul Fazl Enclave, Delhi’. In Muslims in Indian Cities: Trajectories of Marginalisation, edited by L. Gayer and C. Jaffrelot, 213–236. London: Hurst. Gayer, L. and Jaffrelot, C. 2012. ‘Introduction: Muslims of the Indian City. From Central­ ity to Marginality’. In Muslims in Indian Cities: Trajectories of Marginalisation, edited by L. Gayer and C. Jaffrelot, 1–22. London: Hurst. Ghose, A.K. 1999. ‘Current Issues of Employment Policy in India’. Economic and Political Weekly, 34(36): 2592–2608. GOI (Government of India). 2006. Social, Economic and Educational Status of the Muslim Community of India: A  Report. New Delhi: Cabinet Secretariat, Government of India (Popularly Known as Sachar Committee Report). GOI (Government of India). 2015. Key Indicators of Social Consumption in India Education, NSS 71st Round (January-June  2014), Report No. NSS KI (71/25.2). New Delhi: Ministry of Statistics and Programme Implementation. GOI (Government of India). 2019. Annual Report of the Periodic Labour Force Survey (July 2017­ June 2018). New Delhi: Ministry of Statistics and Programme Implementation. Gooptu, N. 2009. ‘Neo-liberal Subjectivity, Enterprise Culture and New Workplaces: Organ­ ised Retail and Shopping Malls in India’. Economic and Political Weekly, XLIV(22): 45–54. Gooptu, N. 2013. ‘Introduction’. In Enterprise Culture in Neoliberal India: Studies in Youth, Class, Work and Media, edited by Nandini Gooptu, 1–24. New York: Routledge. Harker, R. 1984. ‘On Reproduction, Habitus and Education’. British Journal of Sociology of Education, 5(2): 117–127. Harris-White, B. 2003. India Working: Essays on Society and Economy. New York: Cambridge University Press. Jackson, M.I. and Mare, R.D. 2007. ‘Cross Sectional and Longitudinal Measurements of Neighbourhood Experience and Their Effect on Children’. Social Science Research, 36: 590–610. Jaffrelot, C. and Gayer, L. (ed.). 2012. Muslims in Indian Cities: Trajectories of Marginalization. London: Hurst. Jaffrelot, C. and Thomas, C. 2012. ‘Facing Ghettoisation in “Riot-City”: Old Ahmedabad and Juhapura between Victimisation and Self-help’. In Muslims in Indian Cities: Trajectories of Marginalisation, edited by L. Gayer and C. Jaffrelot, 43–80. London: Hurst. Jamil, G. 2017. Accumulation by Segregation: Muslim Localities in Delhi. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Jeffrey, C. 2010. Timepass: Youth Class and the Politics of Waiting in India. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Jeffrey, C., Jeffery, P. and Jeffery, R. 2008. Degrees without Freedom?: Education, Masculinities, and Unemployment in North India. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Jha, P. 2003. ‘Issues Relating to Employment in India in the Era of Globalization.’ Social Scientist, 31(11/12): 47–65. Kazim, R. 2018. ‘Negotiating Street Space Differently: Muslim Youth and Alternative Learning’. Economic and Political Weekly, LIII(49): 65–69. Khalidi, O. 2006. Muslims in Indian Economy. New Delhi: Three Essays Collective. Khan, S. 2007. ‘Negotiating the Mohalla: Exclusion, Identity and Muslim Women in Mum­ bai’. Economic and Political Weekly, 47(17): 1527–1533. Kintrea, K., Clair, R.S. and Houston, M. 2015. ‘Shaped by Place? Young People’s Aspira­ tions in Disadvantaged Neighbourhoods’. Journal of Youth Studies, 18(5): 666–684.

178

Aashti Salman

Kirmani, N. 2008. ‘Constructing ‘The Other’: Narrating Religious Boundaries in Zakir Nagar’. Contemporary South Asia, 16(4): 397–411. Kirmani, N. 2013. Questioning the Muslim Woman: Identity and Insecurity in an Urban Indian Locality. New Delhi: Routledge. Kumar, S. 2016. ‘The Time of Youth: Joblessness, Politics and Neo-religiosity in Uttar Pradesh’. Economic and Political Weekly, LI(53): 102–109. Lin, N. 1999. ‘Building a Network Theory of Social Capital’. Connections, 22(1): 28–51. Mankekar, P. 2015. Unsettling India: Affect, Temporality, Transnationality. London: Duke Uni­ versity Press. McLeod, J. 2009. Ain’t No Making It: Aspirations and Attainment in a Low-Income Neighbour­ hood. Boulder: Westview Press. Mhaskar, S. 2018. ‘Ghettoisation of Economic Choices in a Global City: A Case Study of Mumbai’. Economic and Political Weekly, LIII(29): 29–37. Pettit, H. 2019. ‘The Cruelty of Hope: Emotional Cultures of Precarity in Neo-Liberal Cairo’. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 37(4): 722–739. Ray, D. 2002. Aspirations, Poverty and Economic Change. New York: University and Instituto de An’ alisis Econ’omico (CSIC). www.nyu.edu/econ/user/debraj/Courses/Readings/ povasp01.pdf (last accessed on 25.08.2018). Richards, G. 2017. Working Class Girls, Education and Post-Industrial Britain. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Rose, J. and Baird, J.A. 2013. ‘Aspirations and Austerity State: Young People’s Hopes and Goals for the Future’. London Review of Education, 11(2): 157–173. Saberwal, S. 2010. ‘On the Making of Muslims in India Historically’. In Handbook of Mus­ lims in India, edited by Rakesh Basant and Abusaleh Shariff, 37–70. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Salman, A. 2017. ‘School Leavers and Their Aspirations: A Study of Low Income Muslim Men in Jamia Nagar’. MPhil Thesis, Jawaharlal Nehru University. Salman, A. 2020. ‘ “I Failed to Work Hard”: Reasons for Secondary School Dropout among Muslim Men in Delhi’. Contemporary Education Dialogue, 17(1): 45–69. Salman, A. 2021. ‘Aspirations and Employment: A Study of Muslim Youth in Delhi’. PhD Thesis, Jawaharlal Nehru University. Samanta, S. 2016. ‘Education as a Path to “Being Someone”: Muslim Women’s Narratives of Aspirations, Obstacles, and Achievement in an Impoverished Basti in Kolkata, India’. Frontiers, 37(3): 151–174. Susewind, R. 2017. ‘Muslims in Indian Cities: Degrees of Segregation and the Elusive Ghetto’. Environment and Planning, 49(6): 1286–1307. Thorat, S. and Attewell, P. 2010. ‘The Legacy of Social Exclusion: A Correspondence Study of Job Discrimination in India’s Urban Private Sector’. In Blocked by Caste: Economic Dis­ crimination in Modern India, edited by Sukhdeo Thorat and Katherine Newman, 11–32. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Trivedi, P.K., Goli, S. and Kumar, F.S. 2016. ‘Does Untouchability Exist among Muslims?: Evidence from Uttar Pradesh’. Economic and Political Weekly, L1(15): 32–36. Unni, J. 2010. ‘Informality and Gender in the Labour Market for Muslims.’ In Handbook of Muslims in India, edited by Rakesh Basant and Abusaleh Shariff, 221–234. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Vaid, D. 2017. ‘The City, Education and Social Mobility: Women’s Narratives from Delhi’. In The Second International Handbook of Urban Education, edited by William T. Pink and George W. Noblit, 347–368. Cham: Springer. Willis, P.  1977. Learning to Labour: How Working Class Kids Get Working Class Jobs. New York: Columbia University Press.

Aspirations of Muslim Men in Delhi

179

Zabiliute, E. 2016. ‘Wandering in a Mall: Aspirations and Family among Young Urban Poor Men in Delhi’. Contemporary South Asia, 24(3): 271–284. Zipin, L., Sellar, S., Brennan, M. and Gale, T. 2015. ‘Educating for Futures in Marginalised Regions: A Sociological Framework for Rethinking and Researching Aspirations’. Edu­ cational Philosophy and Theory, 47(3): 227–246. Zyskowski, K. 2020. ‘Aspirations as Labour: Muslim Women at a Basic Computer-Training Centre in Hyderabad’. Journal of South Asian Studies, 43(4): 758–774.

SECTION III

Quest for Citizenship

Marginality, Mobility, and Violence

9 SWAN SONG Muslim Musicians in Contemporary Banaras: Stories of Survival and Denial Zarin Ahmad

Introduction In January 2017, the media reported that the grandson of the shehnai maestro, late Bismillah Khan, had stolen five of Khan’s silver shehnais (a wind instrument) and sold them to a jeweller. While there could be several personal reasons behind this act, on a more general level, one is intrigued to understand the larger picture of Banarsi musicians. This chapter seeks to map the trajectories of the Muslim musi­ cians of this historic city and document stories of their survival and denial within the complex picture of the city’s social, cultural, economic, and political landscape. Within the much larger and complex dynamics of the city and its politics, this essay is specifically located at the intersection of two distinct entry points – the politics of the city and the contours of the city’s musical scene – and studies the impact on Muslim musicians and accompanists. Issues of violence and marginalisation for very tangible reasons dominated the discourse on Indian Muslims. This chapter is an attempt to understand the pro­ cess of economic marginalisation of a traditional occupation within the changing landscape of music and is based on life history narratives. The academic landscape of Banaras is well-traversed – the city of Varanasi or Banaras has been studied from the vantage point of a living and ancient city, communalism (Williams), occupa­ tions (Raman), music (Jugand), and poetry (Lee). I draw upon these distinct strands and address how the changing music scene impacts on the occupational choices of musicians. Among its many multiplicities, Banaras1 is colloquially referred to as the city of raas (flavour, enjoyment, pleasure). It has a rich and distinguished history of music. Muslims have long been associated with the Banarsi music world as both patrons and performers. Mir Rustam Ali, for instance, is known to have been a great music patron and patronised the famous boat music festivals (Burhva Mangal).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003280309-13

184

Zarin Ahmad

Miyan Shori, Gammu Khan, and Shadey Khan are known to have been the main exponents of the tappa form of singing. Prabhu Narayan Singh, the Maharaja of Banaras, is known to have patronised musicians Waris Ali, Akbar Ali, Nisar Khan, Sadiq Ali, and Ashiq Ali Khan. The legendary Ram Sahay, considered the founder of the Banaras style of tabla, was first trained by Modhu Khan of Lucknow (Roach 1972). However, one wonders about the near-total silence of the ustads in con­ temporary Banaras2 – and this is what the chapter tries to explore. It attempts to analyse their changing association with their ancestors’ occupation. I start with an overview of Banarsi Muslims. The next section is a description of present-day Dal Mandi, one of the areas where music flourished in its heyday, followed by narratives of four men closely associated with the Banaras music world. The last part analyses and contextualises the narratives. Through the musician’s life histories, the essay looks at the composite culture of the city and its breakdown.

The Ganga-Jumni Tehzeeb of Banaras: Reading Tensions and Emotions While Banaras is commonly known as a city of ghats, temples, and Hindu deities, it also has a substantial Muslim population, as its second largest community.3 As Hertel and Humes write, ‘Banaras is best known as a centre of Hindu culture and tradition, but, significantly, fully one quarter of its residents are Muslims’ (Hertel and Humes 1993, 8).4 The Ansari biradri who are occupationally weavers consti­ tute nearly 70% of the city’s Muslims. They have a traditional association with the city explicated in Taarikh e Banaras. The city’s Muslim population also comprises other occupational kin groups like Qureshis (butchers),5 Mansooris (cotton card­ ers), Hakim (traditional doctors), Mirasi (musicians and genealogists) as well as small sections of Syed, Sheikhs, and Pathans. There are also a few families who are of direct and recent Mughal lineage and are descendants of Jahandar Shah (son of Shah Alam II). Kasturi (2011) refers to them as ‘elites in exile’. Jahandar Shah arrived in the city in 1779 assuming it a temporary refuge, but he and later his descendants continued to live in Banaras in specific localities particularly Fatman, Badshah Bagh, and Shivala. Most of them have fallen into poverty over the years; some do zardozi embroidery work in the Shivala area. Their title (Bakht) and a symbolic grant of 25 rupees per month from the government are the only indica­ tors of their royal past.6 Geographically, the city can be divided into three broad areas. The innermost, which runs parallel to the river, is mostly dominated by Hindus. Most temples, ghats, and religious institutions are located in this area. The second is the com­ mercial hub, where the business communities reside. The third is the outer zone, where Muslim localities are primarily located. Muslims also have sizeable settle­ ments in the city centres like Dal Mandi, Nai Sadak, and Madanpura and smaller pockets in Gauriganj, Shivala, and Chauhatta. A large pocket of Muslim weavers has recently settled to Bazardiha in the south. Banaras Muslims are settled in mohal­ las (neighbourhoods) depending on their caste, community, religion, occupation,

Swan Song

185

and language. Though there were specific areas based on the aforementioned cat­ egories, the neighbourhoods were not divided ‘discretely into Hindu places and Muslim places’ (Hertel and Humes 1993, 8). Communal riots at frequent inter­ vals confined them a little more to their separate social and spatial enclaves. The imagination and reinvention of the past through the Gyanvapi mosque–Viswanath temple issue, Partition, and Banaras Hindu University further confined Muslims to limited spaces in the city. There is a certain complexity in inter-community relations in Banaras. On one hand, there is a rich history of Indo-Persian culture; on the other, there is sharp divergence and ‘othering’. Banaras’ history and folklore reflect a composite culture, referred to as Ganga-Jumni tehzeeb, or the confluence of cultures like the conver­ gence of the rivers Ganga and Yamuna. Tulsidas, the author of Tulsi Ramayana, is known to have mastered Persian and Arabic as well as Sanskrit. He lived in a mosque, as the following couplet illustrates7: A slave of Ram is Tulsi / Whatever they say, let them say / On alms I live, the mosque is my refuge / My give and take with this world is done. ‘Banarsipan’ and ‘Banaras boli’ cut across religious boundaries. ‘Banarsipan’, or ‘Banaras-ness’, a common everyday term, reflects the city’s composite culture. It denotes leisure, simplicity, and enjoyment (Lee 2007, 184). ‘No matter what the origins of a person, in whichever province or community, once he adopts Banaras mitti (earth) and masti (joy of life), he is lost to the rest of the world’ (Kumar 1995, 82). Banaras boli – the regional dialect and a variant of Bhojpuri – spoken by both Hindus and Muslims is closely associated with and is a part of Banarasipan. Pandey (1990) also mentions that the ‘local variety of Hindi’ spoken by Muslims in Eastern UP was more in common with their Hindu neighbours than with the local Muslim notables.8 Muslims in Banaras speak either Urdu and or Banaras boli, and even the Urdu spoken in Banaras has a strong influence of Banaras boli. For instance they use hum (I, me) instead of main. Other interesting facts emerge in oral histories and folklore – Abdul Rahim Khan-e-Khana, Subedar of Banaras (a contemporary of Tulsidas), is known to have been proficient in Sanskrit and have written two invaluable texts on astrology. Kabir, another notable repository of this tehzeeb, was born in Banaras to a Muslim weaver and brought up and trained in the shastras by Ramanand. Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb’s elder brother, Dara Shikoh, also associated with Banaras, unearthed the Upanishads, which were lost in antiquity, and translated them into Persian (Naumani 1960). A neighbourhood is named Daranagar after him. Husaini Shah, a Sharki Sultan who ruled Banaras in the 14th century, was a patron of music and introduced the ragas Hasan ki todi and Jaunpuri.9 However, these important mark­ ers of the history of the city are lost, and the Muslim history of the city is seen – overwhelmingly – as one of death and destruction.

186

Zarin Ahmad

This composite character of the city can be discerned even now in the cultural traditions of the city – its music concerts reflect this tehzeeb, as I  noticed at the music concerts I attended in the spring of 2010. Guests were anointed with san­ dalwood paste, sprinkled with rose petals and rose water (a Hindu tradition), and presented a dopalli topi (a white cotton cap often worn by Muslim men). However, the Sankatmochan Temple music festival – one of the most esteemed concerts of the country and held in spring – was closed to Muslim artists until a few years back. In 2010, there were a few Muslim accompanists and one Muslim solo performer. However, despite a historically rich composite culture, an underlying tension between the two communities is reflected in various ways in everyday contexts in contemporary Banaras. There is a mental segregation of the Muslim other. Once I asked an Uttar Pradesh police constable the name of a mosque, he replied vaguely with a disinterested expression, ‘Masjid hai, naam nahi pata’ (It’s a mosque – I don’t know the name). His expression conveyed that the mosque had no name, no his­ tory, just an ‘unwanted’ existence. (I found out later that it was called Kotwali Masjid since it is located near the Kotwali or police station.) Muslims, on the other hand, are often quite aware of the history, culture, and ritual of each of the temples in their locality and city. They often know the names of temples and the god each temple is dedicated to and narrate interesting anecdotes. This could perhaps be read as- being a minority versus the privilege of majority status. The tangible contentious issues are the disputed Gyanvapi mosque–Vishwanath temple issue.10 It is present in the daily narratives of the city, in travel and guide­ books, and even in school textbooks of the Uttar Pradesh (UP) board of educa­ tion. The issue was the cause of one of the bloodiest communal riots in Banaras in 1809.11 The issue was revived and regenerated during the Babri masjid–Ram janmabhoomi campaign in the 1980s and 1990s. It is a highly sensitive site man­ aged by the UP government and heavily guarded by hundreds of police officers posted at all its entry points. Banaras Muslims bear the weight of the Partition of the country based on religion and of Mughal emperor Aurangzeb’s tryst with the city. Aurangzeb is known to have Islamicised the city and renamed it Moham­ medabad.12 There are two versions of Aurangzeb’s connection – the dominant narrative, which British historians such as Princep and Freitag concur with; historians who question this thesis; (Casolari 2002, 1418); and the local Mus­ lim perspective, expressed in oral narratives and writings and often confined to the community.13 During my fieldwork, respondents invariably mentioned that Aurangzeb was tarnished by historians. They narrated stories of Aurangzeb’s mag­ nanimity and good deeds, such as his ridding the city of licentious people and violence against women.14 That he built temples in Banaras is absent from cur­ rently known history; it is certainly an area that needs exploring. Notably, the respondents related these narratives without being asked to comment on Mughal history. Banaras has had a long and troubled history of communal riots.15 Though riots16 were triggered by minor incidents, like in other cases, the real cause was the underlying tension in the city and economic rivalry between Hindu and Muslim businesspersons in the silk industry.

Swan Song

187

There is a growing influence of the Ahle-Hadith and Deobandis in the city. According to Searle-Chatterjee, Banaras is the second most important centre for the Ahle-Hadith17 in India, which has been active in Banaras since the 1950s. This is associated with the Gulf influence. With the slump in the silk industry in the 1970s, Banaras Muslims moved to Gulf countries for employment and brought back Saudi Islam.18 There is polarisation within the Muslim community as well. The Ahle-Hadith movement has made Muslims adhere more strictly to religious obligations like regular prayers and dress codes (hijab or burqa for women, skull caps, and wearing pants above the ankles for men). There is also a trend of avoiding ‘unIslamic’ and contentious practices like music. Shia–Sunni arranged marriages are also rare now.

Dal Mandi: Music in the Bylanes of Banaras Musical traditions run deep in Banaras. The four neighbourhoods associated with musicians are Ramapura, Kabirchaura, Dal Mandi, and Shivala. Kabirchaura and Ramapura are associated with the Kathak or Mishra Hindu musicians, while Shivala and, particularly, Dal Mandi are associated with courtesans and Muslim musicians. This chapter focuses on Dal Mandi which literally means lentil or pulses’ market. Therefore, it could have been a market for grains and lentils.19 However, accord­ ing to local lore, a passing Englishman saw the courtesans sitting in their balconies, called it ‘Doll Mandi’ and the name stayed.20 It is an unofficial name for the area located in the commercial centre of the city and extends between Nai Sarak and chowk, wholesale market. It has a main lane and a maze-like network of narrower lanes and bylanes on either side. The ground floor of buildings along the main lane is entirely commercial and has shops that sell a range of products. The upper levels of these shops are either residential or commercial – they are now used as shops, workshops (for repair and manufacture), storage spaces, and residential spaces. The upper levels used to be the quarters of the courtesans. The residences were earlier owned by patrons of courtesans or courtesans themselves or were gifted to them by their patrons. When courtesans left, these places were either sold or reclaimed by patrons and sold to third parties. Some of these buildings were extended as the families grew, adding to the clutter of the lanes. The innermost lanes are purely residential. Some of these houses were traditionally occupied by musicians. Dal Mandi is known to have been a famous adbi markaz (literary centre) in the past. Agha Hash’r Kashmiri, often referred to as the Father of Urdu Drama, lived there. Renowned poets like Mir Anis and Mirza Ghalib have visited and enriched the adbi mahol (cultural ambience) of the city.21 The house where Ghalib stayed is now referred to as kucha-e-Ghalib (abode of Ghalib).22 The elite of the city organised mehfils (gathering; here, musical evenings).23 The patrons were mainly zamindars (landed gentry) and businesspersons, both Hindus and Muslims.24 Mehfils had the flavour of Mughal courts (Nagar 2008, 52–53). A  white sheet was spread in the courtyard, chandeliers hung from ceilings, and musical instruments placed in front. Perfume (itr), cardamom, betel (paan), and

188

Zarin Ahmad

other condiments were placed and abir (colour powder) during Holi (festival of colours, celebrated at the beginning of spring) mehfils. Mehfils used to start early with a series of dance and lighter performances for the public, followed by pucca gana (serious performances) for the discerning people later at night. However, this tradi­ tion of organising mehfils as part of festivals gradually reduced and are no longer part of the system. Banaras also had the tradition of seasonal music festivals like Gulab-Bari, Bela-Bari, and Brava Mangle. The latter was performed on boats on the Tuesday after Holi – the last Tuesday of the Hindu calendar (Kumar 1995). It was initiated in the early 18th century, possibly by Mir Rustam Ali, and was dis­ continued in the 1920s. It has been revived recently but lacks the grandeur of the early Brava Mangle in which even the Raja of Banaras had his bajra (boat).25 According to the 1827 census, there were 264 Hindu and 500 Muslim ‘nach girls’ in Banaras.26 Courtesans were referred to as tawaif (in Urdu) and baiji or some­ times kothewali27 in Hindi. Irrespective of the courtesan’s religion, the suffix ‘bai’ was attached to their names. The famous courtesans of the time were Vidyadhari Bai, Gauhar Bai, Maina Bai, Badi Moti Bai, Husna Bai, Rasoolan Bai, etc. Husna Bai maintained regular correspondence with Bharatendu Harishchandra (1850– 1885), the Father of Hindi Literature. Photographs of Husna Bai were found in his personal belongings (Mukherjee 2009). The courtesans had ustads who were trainers and accompanists. Famous ustads of the time were Tajju Khan, Chandu Khan, and Arshad Khan on sarangi and Kallu Khan, Dhannu Khan, and Ahmed Jan Thirakwa on tabla (Indian drums).28 Muslim musicians are often called ustad (master, trainer, or teacher) or ‘Khan sahab’ pronounced with the ‘n’ silent. It is not a Pathan name, but a title given to some musician in the family as a mark of royal patronage. Some Muslims feel that it is just an ascribed title and a way to conceal lineage: Baat bigdi toh Shah sahab, zaat bigdi toh Khan sahab (If things go wrong run to the Shah sahab (fakir or mendicant); if your lineage goes wrong call yourself Khan sahab). However, Sharafat mentions that ‘Khan sahab’ was a special title, meant for those whose ancestors were hon­ oured with it. ‘Now every guy who plays music starts calling himself Khan sahab’. Though musical genealogies are contested, there is a hierarchy of sorts: broadly, vocalists or singers (kalawant) rank at the top, followed by Dhari and Mirasi musi­ cians and the lowest in the ladder shehnai players (Halalkhor). According to Sharafat Ali Khan, there were seven biradris: Khan sahab (singers), Kathak (most Hindu musicians have ascribed the Brahmin title Mishra but music Mishras have a distinct identity and can possibly be traced through endogamy), Kinnar (transvestites), Bhat (table players), Ghauriya (instrument makers), Halalkhor (shehnai players), and tawaif (courtesans) – not necessarily in that order. Among the tawaifs (courtesans), there were three categories – Gandharv, Ramjani, and Ramdasi.

Four Men and Music29: Stories of Survival and Denial In this section, I present narratives of four men closely associated with the world of Dal Mandi and its cultural traditions from the 1930s to the present. The narratives

Swan Song

189

I  present here are heavily edited versions of the original. There are complex and inter-connected marriage patterns as well as rivalry and family issues. I have avoided these for ethical reasons and to keep the narrative simple. The narratives are largely chronological, although not narrated in the exact sequence as presented. The translation is mine; I have tried to keep as close as possible to the original flow of the language.

Ramzan Ali Khan Eighty-three years old Ramzan Ali Khan lives in small quarters in Chahmama, Dal Mandi. His father Shamsher Ali Khan (Shammo Khan) was a renowned sarangi player of his time and ustad of Rasoolan Bai. All of Ramzan’s three uncles were also in music. Among Ramzan’s four siblings, only one took to music, the other two are tailors. None of his sons followed the father, but the grandson has begun showing some interest. Ramzan recalls how as a small child he lived in a large house in Chahmama. There was always ghee (clarified butter) and sugar in the kitchen. Those days, Dal Mandi was culturally very active, and one could hear sounds of music being played as the courtesans used to train with their teachers, his father being one of them. The rais (elite) of the city would patronise the courtesans, who in return paid the musicians. The courtesans were not sex workers, neither the patrons were hoodlums. His father was one of the teachers of Rasoolan bai, the famous thumri singer of Banaras. Ramzan too used to accompany her in per­ formances across the country. She commanded immense respect and dignity. She sang thumri and chaiti30 in her characteristically beautiful style. Later, she stopped participating in conferences and sang only for the radio. She sold her house and left for Allahabad in 1960.

Sharafat Ali Khan Sharafat Ali Khan is tall and slim with elegant features and looked much younger than his 80  years. He spoke in chaste Urdu, interspersed with a few phrases in Banarsi boli and English. He has a three-storied house – though not very large. He belongs to a family of musicians. In his own words, they drew their lineage from Tansen, Miyan Shori, and Wajid Ali Shah. They were mainly sarangi play­ ers and vocalists. Sharafat’s cousin Vajjan Khan – still plays for Patna radio station. Another cousin from Shivala, (late) Laddan Khan, was an A-grade artiste in Cal­ cutta. Mushtaq Ali Khan, Inayat Khan, and Sakhawat Khan were the three leading sitar players in the country. But Mushtaq Ali Khan was decorated with the title Sitara-e-Hind (star of India). His nephew, Khurshid, a shagird (student) of Vilayat Khan also plays the sitar while he himself played the harmonium. In his early years, Sharafat learnt watch-making while his friends were inclined towards music. Occasionally, he would accompany them to the courtesans. This led Sharafat too to develop an interest in it. He learnt music from Amir Khan sahab. In 1957, Sharafat performed with Basudev Maharaj (father of Lachhu maharaj,

190

Zarin Ahmad

another renowned musician of Banaras) on the tabla. He officially started his professional career in music in 1961 at a conference in Madras (Chennai) with Rasoolan Bai. This was followed with another one in Calcutta (where he again performed with Rasoolan Bai with Shakoor Khan on sarangi and Thirakwa Khan (Ahmed Jan Thirakwa) on tabla. He accompanied many renowned artistes such as Nirmala Devi, Parveen Sultana (since her debut in Banaras when she was 16), Godai Maharaj (I was his regular accompanist), and Gopal Maharaj. According to him, music, in the past, was the preserve of the elite. Courte­ sans were closely associated with performing music. They had dignity and tal­ ent. Rasoolan Bai, Siddheshwari Bai, Begum Akhtar, and Badi Moti Bai were some of the leading singers of the time, and they were all from this background. The women of their family were Muslims and the men were Hindus. Bhagirathi’s daughter was Shehzadi and son Kuber. Kuber’s son was Basudev and the daughters were Munnan and Bittan. They used to do majlis. Munnan went to Bombay (now Mumbai) and started a film career. Sharafat also performed with Bismillah Khan with whom he would break bread, but was never related. Between the Shehnai Khandaan and the sangeet Khandaan, there was a hierarchy with the latter claiming higher status. Sharafat reminded that his relatives by marriage belonged to the line­ age of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah of Lucknow. The general public did not have a tradition of music except when women would sing during weddings. However, there was an understanding of music among some learned Hindu Brahmins but never among common Muslim families. Among Muslims, the shurufa (nobles) would not eat with a gawaiyya (singer) at the same table. Later, Sharafat lost interest in music and turned towards religion. Occa­ sionally, he would sing noha (song of mourning popular among Shias) which was so well received that he made it his mainstay. He regrets that music is now wiped out from his family. His son, a petty shopkeeper in Dalmandi, would, at times, join him in the singing of noha. But the music is lost. The harmonium is now infested with termites.

Khurshid Ali Khan Khurshid Ali Khan is lean and frail and looks much older than his 75 years. He lives in a small house and was sleeping on the floor when we visited him the first time. He was wearing an old crumpled sarong and (later) kurta. He had broken his hip­ bone and was confined to his home but did not have the resources for treatment. He wistfully showed us his sitar, hanging on the wall, and said he had not been able to play since his accident. Khurshid took immense pride in his lineage. His father was a well-known vocalist and sarangi player. His maternal grandfather used to play the sitar, and the paternal grandfather was a renowned sarangi player – an ustad. Khurshid’s father passed away when he was very young; he recalled how in the past, musicians were respected and rewarded well. He remembered going to the court of the Raja of Banaras with his great grandmother. When they were leaving, the Raja asked the in-charge to bring out the register to check accounts. Payments were

Swan Song

191

made annually. His great grandmother was given 340 rupees, a handsome amount in those days. He could remember two such visits. His real interest in music started when while at a betel shop, he heard Ustad Vilayat Khan31 playing the sitar on the radio. He made enquiries about him; they said he was based in Bombay. When the ustad visited Allahabad to perform at the All India Radio, Khurshid managed to meet him and expressed his desire to be trained by the ustad. During the course of the conversation, he mentioned to the ustad about his illustrious family. The ustad was impressed and extended an invitation to visit Bombay. Khurshid travelled to Bombay in the year 1988, where he joined formally as a disciple of Ustad Vilayat Ali Khan. During the period of his training itself, he received lot of appreciation and adulation from others. But when he returned back to Banaras in 1992, the city was in the process of change. The recognition that he deserved was missing. This disheartened him, and he deliberately did not teach music to his children. They learnt embroidery and work for daily or monthly payments. Khurshid reminds that barring a few, most classical artists remained poor.

Faiyaz Ali Khan Faiyaz Ali Khan is about 55–60 years old – lean and slim with an expressive face. He lives in the Shivala area. His house is close to the main road. He started learn­ ing music when he was five years old from his father and elder brothers. He had a small sarangi which he would play quite often. At the age of seven to eight years, he joined his brother in Calcutta under whose guidance he learnt music. By the age of 12, he had already started performing on the stage, and by 15 years of age, he began playing for the radio. At 20, he had become quite popular. Faiyaz earned a lot of money through his performances held across India. He returned back to Banaras some 18 years ago. Though he started getting work in Banaras too, but Calcutta according to him was way better. Comparatively, there was more respect in Calcutta. Faiyaz observed how, over the years, the musical atmosphere has changed. In the past, he could perform in temples, people would come to escort them, and offer prasad at the end of the performance. They used to have night-long musi­ cal sessions in the temples. But after the intensification of the Ayodhya issue, the Hindu–Muslim divide widened. The violence that followed further deteriorated the situation. He and his compatriots stopped getting invitation from the temples. Though big names in the music world, Allah Rakha Khan, Zakir Hussain, and oth­ ers continued to be invited for they were crowd pullers. Like all other respondents, Faiyaz too lamented that he could not pass on the musical tradition to his children. According to Faiyaz, people used to come from outside, rent places to live in, and play music in Dal Mandi. They earned well those days and bought houses in Dal Mandi, where they still live. Renowned gurus and ustads were associated with music in Dal Mandi like Gudai Maharaj, Samta Prasad, and Kishan Maharaj – their fathers and they had links in Dal Mandi. The singer-courtesans owe their training to the Khan sahabs who taught them with their heart and soul and made them what they are. Shammo Khan sahab trained Rasoolanbai. The training received

192

Zarin Ahmad

under Khan sahib was so perfect that even after her death, her voice continues to leave the world mesmerised.

Policing, Morality, and Power: Changing Situation of Muslim Musicians This section contextualises the aforementioned narratives in the dynamics of the changing musical traditions and political and cultural changes in the country. I outline some of the main concerns of the ustad musicians that emerge from my research and the strategies they have adopted to address these challenges. The narratives reiterate the strong and deep association that the ustads had with the cultural scene of the city. Musicians were highly endogamous. They married within the biradri, often among cross cousins and parallel cousins. Among the Khan sahabs, training in music (taleem) was generally a male preserve imparted only (by the father, uncle, or grandfather) to the most talented son or sons. The narratives of Sharafat and Khurshid indicate that shagirat or training was highly coveted, because the ustad did not accept all who came to learn. Rigorous training was extremely important and time-consuming. At this stage, it would be pertinent to acquaint ourselves very briefly with the social location of Muslim musicians in Indian society. The history of Muslim clas­ sical musicians can be located in the royal courts, the courtesans’ mehfils, and the Sufi silsilas.32 Musicians were drawn from a variety of biradris or castes depending on their (individual or group) association with the royal courts, the ruling elite, and or the gharana (tradition of music) to which they belonged. Clearly, there were religious distinctions between the Muslim ustads and the Hindu kathak or Mishra musicians who lived in Kabir Chaura and Ramapura and the differences between the shurfa and the gawaiyya that Sharafat mentions. A third layer of dif­ ference existed between musicians: as Sharafat mentions, Bismillah Khan was hum pyala hum niwala hain, lekin rishtedari nahin hai (we eat and drink on the same table, but we are not related). Despite these various layers of difference, there were Shia–Sunni arranged mar­ riages. Ramzan’s marriage nearly 70  years ago, for example, was with a Sunni Muslim woman. Ustad Shammo Khan, father of Ramzan and Sharafat, was born Sunni, practised Shia Islam, and later became Shia. There are innumerable instances of Hindu and Muslim musicians having performed and trained with each other. A  significant point that emerges is that within the same family, the men were Hindu while women were Muslim; this points to the complex and overlapping realities of Hindu–Muslim relations in the world of music, cinema, and Banaras.

The Anti-Nautch Movement: Colonial and Post-Colonial Policies It is not possible to set a precise date as to when the courtesans finally left Dal Mandi. From the diverse information, one could argue that it happened in phases

Swan Song

193

in the context of key historical markers. Some informants locate it to the 1940s when nationalist leaders encouraged people to help in the nationalist cause and not waste their time in frivolities. The 1 May 1958 law against abolition of immoral trade in women was crucial. Amritlal Nagar, in Ye Kothewaliyan (‘These Courtesans’ 2008) documents testimonies of women affected by this act and their unsuccess­ ful agitation. Ramzan explains the end of the kothas in Dal Mandi to the local implementation of these policies with the appointment of a very strict Kotwal in the Chowk police station. He often accosted and questioned patrons who visited the kothas. According to Ramzan, ‘they felt humiliated and stopped coming by and by’.33 In the larger picture, Veena Oldenburg (1990) traces the challenges faced by courtesans to the British usurpation of Awadh in 1856. It forced many nawabs and princes into exile and ended the royal patronage of courtesans. The imposition of contagious disease regulation put further challenges to their privileges and posi­ tion. They were reduced to being ‘singing and dancing girls’ under the British who failed to understand the art. Oldenburg considers this a ‘cultural misunderstanding’ on the part of British authorities.

The End of Patronage and Its Economic Impact The decline of imperial Delhi followed by the decline of regional courts like Luc­ know, Rampur, Jaipur, and Banaras (and Nepal) resulted in important changes in the content and orientation of music as well as the livelihood of the musicians. Much later, the abolition of the Zamindari Act, 1950, also affected the patrons. The narratives of Faiyaz, Khurshid, and Ramzan mention first the affluence and then the reduction in income opportunities. Khurshid mentions his trip to Ram­ nagar, when his great grandmother was given the princely sum of 340 rupees in the court of the Raja of Banaras. When Ramzan mentions that there was always ghee and sugar in the kitchen, he was pointing out that his father ustad Shammo Khan was well-off. Ghee or clarified butter is expensive and considered a mark of affluence. Faiyaz also mentions that musicians in Dal Mandi earned a lot of money ‘those days’ and built houses. Unlike the courtesans, who were sometimes gifted houses by rich patrons, accompanists generally would have bought houses them­ selves. Khurshid also mentions that classical musicians are often at the margins of society and that poverty kills talent.

Changing Music and Morality The nature of musical traditions underwent major changes in the early 20th cen­ tury, primarily due to the pioneering efforts of V.D. Paluskar and V.N. Bhatkhande. They were ‘worried about the imminent disappearing of music’ (Bakhle 2005, 7) and took efforts to address it. In effect, this meant two things: one, archiving music in a systematic way and two, proselytising music – both of which had a phenom­ enal impact on the lives of the ustads. This brought gharana musicians (with their

194

Zarin Ahmad

secret and unsystematic pedagogies) in conflict with new musicians. Under the pressures, some ustads adjusted to the change, while others found it difficult to accommodate (Bakhle 2005, 7–8). By asserting that Muslim influence was recent, Paluskar and Bhatkhande drew a line of demarcation between the middle-class/ upper-caste Hindu reformers and Muslim performers not necessarily belonging to the higher biradris. They emphasised the Hindu religious aspects of classical music and tried to eliminate the ‘immoral’ elements from it. Among the educated middle classes, Hindustani classical music was considered the domain of the courtesan and, hence, ‘illicit’, ‘immoral’, and ‘decadent’. A film, The Other Song (2009), brings to light another instance of proselytising music, particularly in the context of Banaras. Dewan explains that in 1935, Rasoolan bai sang a thumri, lagat jaubanwa ma chot, phool gendwa na maar (it hurts my youth, sensuality, don’t throw marigold flowers at me). The word ‘jaubanwa’ meaning youth/sensuality was changed to ‘karejwa’ (liter­ ally ‘liver’ but poetically heart) in the later version of the song. This change had far-reaching effects on the form of music and in the spaces of representation of musicians, who were mostly Muslims. The nationalist discourse added fillip to this movement.34 The national movement and Gandhi’s call to cour­ tesans to weed out obscenity in music and to sing patriotic songs only were another reason for the decline. Gandhi declined to accept their donation unless they gave up their ‘unclean’ profession.

Marginalisation of Musicians The contours and complexities of Hindu–Muslim relations in Banaras are reflected in the musical landscape as well. While the courtesans left the city, possibly many of their ustads and accompanists did so too and tried to make a life in other cities or left music like Sharafat did. Those who stayed behind and tried to make a life in the occupation found it difficult to survive in the growing divide between Hindus and Muslims in the everyday context, as Faiyaz mentions the organisers chose not to invite musicians from the Muslim courtesan background. So the musicians who remained in music did not get adequate support. Faiyaz and Khurshid’s stories reflect the struggles of a Muslim musician in the cultural scene of Banaras. Though Khurshid does not spell it out clearly, he says: Banaras mein humien woh kamyabi nahin mili (I did not get the success that I deserved in Banaras). Faiyaz is more vocal about this concern where he says that he does not get as many invitations to per­ form any more and that he feels there is discrimination in Akashwani, Banaras. He also says that the organisers in Banaras invite the already well-known Muslim artists but not lesser-known artists. Here, fame is more important than religion. But there is still a little hesitation when it comes to inviting even the best-known Muslim artists to temple functions. Faiyaz does not disengage from playing the sarangi, but he withdraws from the cultural politics of music concerts by taking recourse to teaching students. Khurshid is now old, and all he wants is to find some way of get­ ting a pension or grant from the government or a non-governmental organisation (NGO) that supports the cause of music and artists. As outlined in the earlier part

Swan Song

195

of this essay, Hindu–Muslim relations in the city are complex. This complexity is reflected in a statement by a music aficionado35 of the city when he said, ‘Banaras was proud when Bismillah Khan received Bharat Ratna, but Banarsis might have been happier if Kishan Maharaj36 had received the honour.’ This clearly outlines the ‘othering’ in the musical landscape of Banaras. Over the years, there has also been profiling of music in Banaras. Hindu musi­ cians managed to upgrade themselves, while the Muslim musicians could not shed the tag of being from the courtesan background. I quote a very telling instance from Saba Dewan’s (2009) film The Other Song. Rai Anand Krishna narrates this incident in the film. Rasoolan bai had left Banaras selling wares on the streets of Allahabad. She was recognised by someone and requested to record a song at the Allahabad radio station. In the radio station, she saw portraits of many courtesans who were her contemporaries. They were all referred to as Devi (respectable term for Hindu women) against their names on the portraits. She saw her own portrait, which read ‘Rasoolan bai’. Rasoolan remarked, ‘they have all become devis and I have remained a bai!’37 Another instance of this changing music in contemporary Banaras can be seen in Saira’s story. Saira Begum is a singer from the courtesan background in Banaras. She needs an ustad to be trained to improve her skills. But the practical dilemma is that no renowned musician of Banaras would like to associate with a woman from her background, and there is no Muslim ustad in the city to train her.38

Religion, Mobility, and the Musicians’ Inner Struggles The identity of musicians is a complex issue, closely interlinked with the chang­ ing historical processes and the musicians’ own struggles to gain acceptance and respectability in the larger community. The musicians’ struggle to gain acceptance in the community is clearly reflected in Sharafat’s narrative when he says that he was caught in a dilemma between his love for music and respect from the com­ munity when he went for Shia Majlis and everybody greeted him instead of the much more renowned and already decorated Bismillah Khan. On the other hand, he does regret the fact that termites infested his harmonium – a symbolic end to his musical career. But he found an ideal ground in singing Shia religious songs to get respect of his community and express his musical talent. Sharafat played the recording of his noah-khwani for Muharram in Jaunpur. Since noahs are sung in mourning as a remembrance of Imam Hussain’s death and sacrifice, he sang the noah in raag Malkauns. It was a poignant and expressive rendition and reflected his training in music.39

Conclusion The end of patronage, the changing music scene, sharpening religious boundaries, and the musicians’ inner struggles have contributed to the silence in the bylanes of Banaras and affected the lives of musicians, particularly those from the courtesan

196

Zarin Ahmad

background. The process started in the colonial period, continued during the nationalist discourse and proselytising of music, and crystallised in the everyday context of Banaras in the post-colonial political period. This journey was not or straight unidirectional. The musical scene of Banaras reflects this multi-layered real­ ity of the city and the ustads’ survival and denial. None of their children are trained in music. So Faiyaz, Sharafat, and Khurshid are the last generation of Khan sahabs of Banaras and probably performing their last composition – the swan song.

Acknowledgment I would like to thank the Centre de Sciences Humaines, New Delhi for support­ ing this study

Notes 1 Officially, the city is known as Varanasi and variously referred to as Kashi, Banaras, or Benares. I  choose to call it Banaras – the way it is referred to in its everyday context. 2 Bismillah Khan (1916–2006) is the only notable exception. He brought the shehnai (a wind instrument) to the centre of the Indian classical tradition. He was renowned and decorated with the country’s highest civilian honour – the Bharat Ratna. However, Bismillah Khan is not from the ‘Khan Sahab’ genealogy of musicians that is the subject of this chapter but from the community referred to as Halalkhor or shehnai, which is among the lowest in the hierarchy of musicians. 3 The population data of Muslims in Banaras is ambiguous. Varanasi district comprises Varanasi, Chandauli, and Bhadohi. The Muslim population of the district according to the 2001 Census is 15.85% of the total, while the urban Muslim population of Varanasi district is 30.6%. Muslims primarily reside in urban areas. According to local estimates, the Muslim population of Banaras city is higher – 37%, quoted by Mohammad Toha in (Abbasi 2002, 16). 4 See, for instance, Banaras: City of Light (Eck 1982); Hindu Varanasi (Gesler and Pierce 2000); Living Banaras: Hindu Religion in Cultural Context (Hertel and Humes 1993), Death in Banaras (Parry 1994); The Ganges in Myth and History (Darian 2001); and The Ramnagar Ramlila: Text, Performance, Pilgrimage (Sax 1990). 5 There is a small section among Qureshis of Nai Sadak area who shifted to textile retail business and do not marry meat Qureshis. 6 Jahandar Shah’s descendants are both Shia and Sunni. Karimatunnisa Begum, grand­ daughter of Jahandar Shah, is known to have built the Shahi Masjid in Badshah Bagh. Interview with Shakir Raza, husband of Humera Sultan Begum, a descendant of the Mughals of Shivala neigbourhood. For details on the Mughal connection, see Kasturi’s (2011), ‘The Lost and Small Histories of the City of Patronage: Poor Mughal Pensioners in Colonial Banaras’. 7 Quoted in (Puniyani 2003, 48). 8 However, since the Census of 1961 differentiated between Urdu and Hindi, Muslims register themselves as Urdu speakers while Hindus prefer to claim that they speak Hindi. For details on language choice among Banarsis, see Beth Simon (1993) in Bradley Hertel and Humes and interview with Prof. Qamar Jahan, Banaras Hindu University, November 2009. 9 Interview, Prof Toha, sociologist, Bhelupura. 10 For a detailed account of the versions surrounding the 11th century warrior-saint of Banaras, see Searle-Chatterjee. 1993. Religious Division and Mythology of the Past. In Bradley R. Hertel and Cynthia Ann Humes (eds), Living Banaras, Hindu Religion in Cultural Context, New York, State University of New York Press, pp. 145–158.

Swan Song

197

11 Termed as ‘grave Benares riots, several hundred persons killed, some 50 mosques destroyed’, Report of the Indian Statutory Commission, vol 4, 1930, pp. 96–97, quoted in Gyanendra Pandey, The Construction of Communalism, New Delhi, OUP, 1990/2006, p. 25. 12 Sandria B. Freitag, Culture and Power in Banaras: Community, Performance and Environment, New Delhi, Oxford University Press, 1983. See also James Princep, Benares Illustrated, Varanasi, Vishwavidyalay Prakashan, 1833/1986. 13 Mufti Abdul Batin Naumani, Imam of Gyanvapi mosque, wrote a series of articles in the eighties in the Urdu daily Awaz e Mulk and later published the articles in small book form. 14 Interview journalist Saleem Suhrawardi and Qamar Jahan, Professor Emeritus depart­ ment of Urdu, BHU. 15 Interview, Ateeq Ansari, Lallpura, Varanasi, and BN Juyal, activist, Gandhi Peace Foun­ dation, Varanasi. 16 For details on riots, see, for instance, Pandey (1983), colonial period; Malik (1994); and Williams (2007) for the more recent riots. 17 They are vehemently against music and consider it as shirk (sin) or jihalat (ignorance). 18 This chapter does not address this issue. 19 But informants say that the wholesale grain market is located in Bisesarganj. 20 Interviews with Saleem Suhrawurdhy and Zafar Abbas Khan, Dal Mandi. 21 For details, see (Lee 2007). 22 In fact, Ghalib had written a poem on Banaras – Chirag-e-Dair. 23 The music scene at the time was interspersed with musicians both Hindu and Muslim. But now, there are a handful of Muslim musicians in the city ((Mukherjee 2009) and (Nagar 2008)). 24 Patronage is an important issue but beyond the focus of this essay. 25 For details on the boat festival, see Julien Jugand’s forthcoming paper, ‘Burhva Mangal: Rise, Fall and Revival of a boat festival in the city of Varanasi’. 26 James Princep, Benares Illustrated, 1833/1986 Vishwavidyalay Prakashan, Varanasi, p. 33. 27 They usually lived on the upper floor (kotha). 28 Conversation, Ramzan Ali Khan, Dal Mandi. 29 I have borrowed this expression from Janaki Bakhle’s (2005) book, Two Men and Music: Nationalism in the Making of Indian Classical Tradition. 30 Thumri and chaiti are part of the genre of semi-classical Hindustani music and specialties of the Banaras gharana of music. 31 Ustad Vilayat Khan (1924 or 1929–2004) was a renowned sitar player and music composer. 32 There is a rich body of folk music among communities and biradris performed during work and leisure, especially during festivals, weddings, and other celebrations by Mirasi musicians; however, this is beyond the scope of the present study. 33 Conversation, Ramzan Ali Khan, Dal Mandi. 34 See, for instance Amrit Srinivasan on the anti-nautch campaign and the reform and revival of Bharat Natyam as ‘pure form’ (Srinivasan 1985). 35 Interviewee name not mentioned on request. 36 Kishan Maharaj (1923–2008), legendary tabla player from Banaras. 37 The Other Song, film by Saba Dewan (2009). 38 She approached Sharafat Ali Khan. But he was not able to train her since he gave up music and felt he did not have the stamina or practice to train a student. 39 Shabbedari, audio CD, Noahkhwani, by Sharafat Ali Khan, Zaidi market, Dal Mandi Varanasi.

References Abbasi, Shaad. 2002. Madanpura Ki Ansari Biradri: Samaji Pase Manzar (The Ansari Biradri of Madanpura: A Social Perspective). Varanasi: Zarnigar Press. Bakhle, Janaki. 2005. Two Men and Music: Nationalism in the Making of an Indian Classical Tradition. Delhi: Permanent Black.

198

Zarin Ahmad

Casolari, Marzia. 2002. “Role of Benares in Constructing Political Hindu Identity.” Economic and Political Weekly: 1413–1420. Darian, Steven G. 2001. The Ganges in Myth and History. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. Dewan, Saba. 2009. The Other Song. Magic Lantern. Eck, Diana L. 1982. Banaras: City of Light. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Gesler, Wilbert M., and Margaret Pierce. 2000. “Hindu Varanasi.” Geographical Review 90 (2) (April 1): 222–237. Hertel, Bradley R., and Cynthia Ann Humes. 1993. Living Banaras: Hindu Religion in Cul­ tural Context. Albany: SUNY Press. Kasturi, Malavika. 2011. “The Lost and Small Histories of the City of Patronage: Poor Mughal Pensioners in Colonial Banaras.” In Banaras: Urban Forms and Cultural Histories, ed. Michael S. Dodson. New Delhi: Routledge. Kumar, Nita. 1995. The Artisans of Banaras: Popular Culture and Identity 1880–1986. New Delhi: Orient Longman. Lee, Christopher. 2007. “Adab and Banarsipan: Embodying Community among Muslim Artisans in Varanasi, India.” Comparative Islamic Studies 1 (2): 177–196. Malik, Dipak. 1994. “Three Riots in Varanasi, 1989–90 to 1992.” Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East 14 (1): 53–56. Mukherjee, Vishwanath. 2009. Bana Rahe Banaras (May Banaras Thrive). Varanasi: Vishwav­ idyalaya Prakashan. Nagar, Amritlal. 2008. Ye Kothewaliyan (These Courtesans). Allahabad: Lokbharati Prakashan. Naumani, Abdus Salaam. 1960. Aasar-e-Banaras (Relics of Banaras). Varanasi: Ilmi Press. Oldenburg, Veena Talwar. 1990. “Lifestyle as Resistance: The Case of the Courtesans of Lucknow, India.” Feminist Studies 16 (2): 259–287. Pandey, Gyanendra. 1990. The Construction of Communal Consciousness in Colonial India. Delhi: Oxford University Press. Parry, Jonathan P. 1994 [1990]. Death in Banaras. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Puniyani, Ram. 2003. Communal Politics: Facts Versus Myths. Delhi: Sage Publications. Roach, David. 1972. “The Banaras Baj – The Tabla Tradition of a North Indian City.” Asian Music 3 (2) (January 1): 29–41. Sax, William S. 1990. “The Ramnagar Ramlila: Text, Performance, Pilgrimage.” History of Religions 30 (2): 129–153. Searle-Chatterjee, M. 1993. “Caste, Religion and Other Identities.” The Sociological Review 41 (S1): 147–168. Simon, B. 1993. “Language Choice, Religion, and Identity in the Banarsi Community.” In Living Banaras: Hindu Religion in Cultural Context, eds. B. R. Hertel and C. A. Humes. 245–268. Albany: SUNY Press. Srinivasan, Amrit. 1985. “Reform and Revival: The Devadasi and Her Dance.” Economic and Political Weekly 20 (44) (November 2): 1869–1876. Williams, Philippa. 2007. “Hindu – Muslim Brotherhood.” Journal of South Asian Develop­ ment 2 (2) (July 1): 153–176.

10

INDIAN MUSLIMS AND THE GHETTOISED ECONOMY The Role of Negative Emotions on Occupational Choices in the Urban Labour Markets Sumeet Mhaskar Introduction In the past two decades, following the publication of the Sachar Committee Report (SCR) (Sachar, 2006), the question of the economic marginalisation of Indian Muslims has become a subject of intense public debates. The Sachar report dem­ onstrated that, in comparison to non-Muslims, the Muslim community lagged far behind in their access to education, infrastructure, credit, and formal employment in the public and private sectors. Similarly, academic scholarship exemplified with large-scale evidence that highly qualified Muslims (and Dalits) face discrimination in the formal urban labour market (Thorat and Attewell, 2010). However, very lit­ tle is known about the factors that feed into the prejudice against Muslims, which in turn create barriers for their economic choices. Besides, state-commissioned reports, as well as scholarly studies, have primarily relied on macro-level statistical data and have tended to focus on the formal sector of the economy. The situation of Muslims in the informal sector, where more than 94% of the Indian workforce is located, remains largely understudied.1 The informal economy is marked by low wages, more than legally prescribed working hours, absence of social secu­ rity benefits, and at times abysmal working conditions. This chapter addresses these gaps by examining Mumbai’s ex-millworkers’ occupational choices in the aftermath of the large-scale textile mill closures. This chapter demonstrates that Muslim ex-millworkers’ occupational choices, and the discrimination they face in the economy, are determined by wide-ranging negative emotions which are best described by the Urdu word karahiyat. Karahiyat has several negative connotations such as aversion, nausea, disgust, detests, dislike, disdain, loathing, abhorrence, antipathy, disagreeableness, and hid­ eousness. Muslims sense the feeling of karahiyat among non-Muslims during their everyday interactions in social, economic, political and cultural spheres. Muslim

DOI: 10.4324/9781003280309-14

200

Sumeet Mhaskar

individuals economic choices, I argue, are influenced by negative emotions such as karahiyat, which confines them to work in a ghettoised economy. By ghettoised economy, I  refer to that part of the economy, which is a product of closure and control exercised by the powerful social groups upon the economic choices of the socially marginalised groups. In the ghettoised economy, powerful social groups create ‘invisible’ walls around occupations and systematically exclude the socially marginalised groups. The term ghettoised economy does not refer to a spatial location. Instead, it indicates an economic activity that could take place anywhere. The idea of ghettoised economy explained here is developed by using Loïc Wacquant’s understanding of spatial ghetto, which is ‘a product and instrument of group power’ whereby the confine and control exercised by the dominant category result in ‘exclusionary closures of the dominated category’ (Wacquant, 2004: 3). The feelings of karahiyat among non-Muslims, especially high-caste Hindus, is cen­ tral to the discrimination faced by Muslims in the labour market and their result­ ant confinement into the ghettoised economy. Karahiyat thus confines Muslims to those occupations in the ghettoised economy which the high-caste or Other Backward Caste (OBC) Hindus will not enter because of its perceived low social status, meagre earnings; and some occupations are even considered as polluting and defiling. Economic segregation between Muslims on one hand and high-caste Hindus and OBC Hindus on the other is more intense than residential segrega­ tion. It is this idea of a ghettoised economy which provides deeper insights into the current economic predicament of Muslims in post-industrial Mumbai. In the following section, I describe sources of karahiyat and then the economic transformation of Mumbai into a post-industrial city and the subsequent chang­ ing class relations. Then, I  explain the data and methods used in this chapter. After this, I explain the central argument of this chapter. I then examine Muslim ex-millworkers’ occupational choices vis-à-vis non-Muslim ex-millworkers. The factors influencing the contemporary Muslim situation range from the local to the international. In conclusion, I return to the questions posed in this section.

Sources of Karahiyat The feeling of karahiyat, which Muslims sense among non-Muslims, is central to the shaping of the former’s social, political, economic, and cultural rights. The word karahiyat came up during my in-depth interviews with Muslim respondents in Mumbai. Karahiyat comes from various sources among which the consumption of beef by Muslims is quite central as it determines social distancing between the Muslims and the high-caste Hindus and OBC Hindus.2 The disgust and anger expressed towards beef-eating also spreads to other food eaten by Muslims (see also Contractor, 2012: 37).3 Following Ambedkar’s formulation on politics around beef-eating (Ambedkar and Moon, 1990: 350), I argue that non-Muslim expression of karahiyat against beef-eating Muslims is primarily due to the general environ­ ment of contempt against the latter community which is exacerbated by the Hindu extremists. The Hindu extremist forces have historically used cow protection as a

Indian Muslims and the Ghettoised Economy

201

tool for mobilising the Hindus, which often resulted in anti-Muslim riots.4 Today, cow slaughtering has become illegal in several Indian states. The Maharashtra state, whose capital is Mumbai city, has banned the possession and sale of bulls, bullocks, and calves. All of this is in addition to cows which the government had banned in the late 1970s (Punwani, 2015: 17). Ever since the BJP-led NDA has come to power at the centre, the Hindu extremist elements have evoked the ‘sacred cow’ to attack the Muslims and Dalits. The second source of karahiyat most powerfully comes from the presence of Muslim residential ghettos. Karahiyat in the housing market operates by placing barriers to Muslims’ entry into non-Muslim areas, especially those dominated by upper-caste Hindus and OBC Hindus. Muslims are thus compelled to live in ghettos, a process that has particularly aggravated since the 1992–93 anti-Muslim pogroms in Mumbai (Khan, 2007: 1528–9). My search for accommodation in the working class and middle-class areas of Mumbai in 2008, as well as conversations with numerous individuals and friends (Muslims and non-Muslims), revealed these discriminatory barriers for Muslims across classes in the housing market (see also Gaikwad, 2012). Not only Muslims are pushed into residential ghettos, but these very ghettos are also further targeted by terming them as ‘mini-Pakistan’ (Khan, 2007: 1529). In doing so, the Hindu extremist forces constantly remind the nonMuslims that Muslims are responsible for the Partition of Akhand Bharat (Uni­ fied India). As such Muslims’ loyalty to the present-day Indian nation is regularly questioned. Such propaganda further aggravates the feeling of karahiyat among the non-Muslims. In common parlance, especially among the high-caste and OBC Hindus, resi­ dential areas dominated by Muslims (and Dalits) are viewed as unclean. This is the third source of karahiyat, which is a result of the inferior municipal services pro­ vided to areas by the city government. Historically, Hindu–Muslim riots become the pretext for not providing municipal services. In the aftermath of the 1932 Hindu–Muslim riots, the volunteers of the Social Service League [E]scorted the municipal employees from and to their headquarters to remove heaps of garbage that had accumulated [in the Muslim dominated Madanpura area] on account of sweepers being afraid of going to the locality and the cleanse the drains that had choked for similar reasons. (The Social Service League of Bombay, 1932: 27) In the absence of such efforts by social organisations, the municipality in general overlooks at the provision of municipal services in Muslim- (and Dalit-) dominated areas. As the Hindu chauvinist and nativist Shiv Sena, in alliance with the Hindu extremists Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), took over Mumbai’s civic bodies in 1985, it deliberately neglected areas dominated by Muslims (Contractor, 2012: 35–6) and Dalits. This uneven treatment by the local state contributes in perpetuating the stereotypes of Muslims as unclean, which further results in reinforcing the feelings of karahiyat among high-caste Hindus and OBC Hindus.

202

Sumeet Mhaskar

The fourth source of karahiyat comes from Muslim men being stereotyped as ‘dirty’ and ‘abusive’ towards their womenfolk (Khan, 2007: 1528). Muslim-dominated areas are seen as spaces for illegal activities, crime, and prostitution. These images of Muslim men and the residential ghettos are further reinforced by films and popular media. Successive events since the early 1990s have contributed to the general cli­ mate of suspicion and fear towards Muslims. These include bomb blasts in Mumbai in 1993 after the anti-Muslim pogrom, bomb blasts in two taxis in 2003, the explo­ sion of seven bombs in local trains in 2006, and finally a terrorist attack at the Taj Mahal Hotel in 2008. The fifth source of karahiyat comes from the extra-local political developments, which have increased the vulnerability of Muslims. In 1996, the Shiv Sena–BJP-led government came to power in Maharashtra against the backdrop of the 1992–93 communal pogroms. In the neighbouring state of Gujarat, the incumbent chief minister Narendra Modi of the BJP rode to power against the backdrop of commu­ nal pogroms in both 2002 and 2007. At the national level, the National Democratic Alliance government, led by the BJP, came to power in 1999, and in the 2014 and 2019 general elections, the BJP under Narendra Modi came to power. The last source of karahiyat comes from international events. The 9/11 attack on the twin towers in the United States by the Al-Qaeda and the propaganda carried out by the Western media have resulted in equating terrorism with Islam. The Sachar report documents, among other things, how non-Muslims, as well as state institutions (Sachar, 2006: 11), look upon Muslims with a higher degree of suspicion. All these factors contribute to the feelings of karahiyat among non-Muslims which results in the ghettoisation of economic choices for Muslim individuals.

Mumbai City and Changing Class Relations The city of Mumbai offers an interesting site for investigating the issues of eco­ nomic choices among Muslims vis-à-vis non-Muslims for the following reasons. Of the 20 million population of Mumbai city according to the 2011 census, Mus­ lims constitute around 20% and therefore constitute a significant minority. Mum­ bai, India’s commercial and financial capital and the capital of Maharashtra state, was one of the first Indian cities to undergo the raft of economic, technological, and social changes associated with the growth of capitalism. Even today, it holds its economic importance.5 The textile industry has been historically the major employer in the city. In the early 1980s, around 250,000 workers found employ­ ment in the mills. However, following the historic 18-month strike that took place in 1982–82, nearly one-lakh workers were not taken back to work. As textile mill closures began taking place in the late 1990s, the remaining approximately 90,000 workers lost their jobs.6 Besides textile mills, other organised manufacturing industries in Mumbai such as engineering, dyeing and chemicals, marketing, and transport also witnessed large-scale closures and layoffs of thousands of workers. The decline of organised manufacturing industries also resulted in the transforma­ tion of the working-class neighbourhood spaces, which have been a crucial site

Indian Muslims and the Ghettoised Economy

203

for understanding the social, political, and economic processes in the city (Chan­ davarkar, 1994; Wersch, 1992; Adarkar et  al., 2004). Industrial manufacturing decline was accompanied by a growth in service sector industries such as banking, insurance, Business Process Outsourcing (BPO), Information-Technology-enabled services, high-end entertainment centres, and real estate.7 The twin process of the decline of organised manufacturing employment and the simultaneous growth in the service sector has resulted in the changing class relations in Mumbai city. The transformation of Mumbai into a service sector economy has resulted in a demand for a workforce with altogether different skills and knowledge than the industrial manufacturing sector. The service sector workforce that is mostly employed by the MNCs has led to the growth of the ‘new’ middle class (Fernandes, 2006). Aged between the early 20s and mid-30s, the new middle class identifies with ‘new culture’, which is seen to symbolise ‘modernity’ by way of aspirational lifestyles, consumerism, materialism, and adoration of the west. Its members are also staunch proponents of liberalisation (e.g. Fernandes, 2006; Nijman, 2006). On the other hand, the economic transformation of Mumbai has meant a massive reduction in the better-paid employment opportunities for individuals with less or no educa­ tion. The ex-millworkers, who had access to better-paid employment, together with their children had little choice but to find jobs or self-employment opportunities in the informal sector. In most cases, the entire family’s labour had to be drawn upon to support livelihood expenses (D’Monte, 2002). Ex-millworkers and their chil­ dren’s movement into the informal sector not only resulted in downward economic mobility but also organised workers’ action reduced significantly. Moreover, the rapid gentrification of the textile industry and working-class neighbourhood spaces has resulted in the displacement of mill workers to Mumbai’s far-away suburbs.

Economic Ghettoisation and Post-Industrial Mumbai In Mumbai’s post-industrial economy, the retrenched mill workers, whether skilled or unskilled, had to rely on the informal sector for their livelihood. Caste, religion, and gender add another dimension to an individual’s economic choices. Using the findings from survey data and the narratives of ex-millworkers, I examine the implications of the interaction between minority religious identity, negative emo­ tions, and political patronage on economic choices. I use qualitative and quantita­ tive data collected between August 2008 and August 2009. The former includes 80 in-depth interviews with Mumbai’s ex-millworkers who lost their jobs following the closure of textile mills in the late 1990s. Following is the social composition of the 80 respondents: 19 high-caste Hindus, 3 Other Backward Caste (OBC) Hindus, 28 Dalits (ex-untouchables), 28 Muslims, and 2 ex-millworkers from the Nomadic Tribe community. Among these 80 respondents, there are 2 women ex-millworkers. Also, semi-structured interviews were conducted with all major trade union leaders and government officials, and informal discussions with politi­ cal activists, social workers, and various other actors engaged in varied ways with the issues of Mumbai millworkers.

204

Sumeet Mhaskar

In survey data terms, information was collected on 924 ex-millworkers’ house­ holds who have stayed back in Mumbai and 113 households of ex-millworkers that have migrated back to their villages. I use the survey data on ex-millworkers who have stayed back in Mumbai. The survey data was gathered using a mix of the opportunity sampling method and the random sampling method. During and after the textile mill closures, a large number of ex-millworkers moved away from the central areas of Mumbai to far-away suburbs. However, during the 2009 elec­ tions, ex-millworkers gathered in large numbers at trade union offices for weekly meetings, rallies, and neighbourhood meetings. I chose these sites as well as various union offices and the events organised by them to avoid biases. During the first ten months of qualitative data collection, it had become apparent that Dalits, Mus­ lims, and women might not figure in adequate proportion in the survey sample if particular emphasis is not given to collecting such information. Therefore, Dalit and Muslim working-class areas and meetings organised by women ex-millworkers were targeted to have a representative sample. The survey was conducted in 2009, TABLE 10.1 Social Profile of Mumbai’s Ex-Millworkers

Gender

Frequency

Percent

State

Frequency

Percent

Male Female

893 31

96.7 3.4

Age Groups 30–40 41–50 51–60 61