UP govt pride and Karnataka’s dubious distinction: a state trapped in caste politics

 

The Yogi Adityanath government in Uttar Pradesh has taken a bold and revolutionary step that deserves attention across the country. By removing caste signboards, banning caste-based rallies, and cleaning up public records of caste identifiers, it has struck at the very heart of the disease that has crippled Indian society for centuries. This move, encouraged by the High Court’s observations, may not annihilate caste overnight, but it will surely weaken the constant reinforcement of caste divisions in the public eye. It is a recognition that the state must not amplify caste identities but gradually move society beyond them.

Karnataka, unfortunately, presents the opposite picture. Here, caste is not simply a social marker; it has become the centrepiece of all political discourse. No other state in India lives and breathes caste the way Karnataka does. Every agitation, every electoral calculation, every government commission is framed in the language of caste and sub-caste. Instead of uniting people as Kannadigas, or better still as Indians, our leaders have ensured that society is sliced into a thousand fragments. The result is a political culture where no one wants to be known simply as a citizen, but only as a member of a caste group.

What makes this tragedy worse is that the rhetoric of “social justice” is little more than a cover for political opportunism. The government of the day claims to perpetuate caste categories for the all-round development of backward groups. Yet what real opportunity exists in jobs or education? Public employment is shrinking, quality education is limited, and even the little that exists is cornered by a narrow elite within castes. The masses are left behind while leaders congratulate themselves for “empowerment.” In truth, what we see is not empowerment but vote-bank manipulation — the cynical use of caste quotas and identities to secure electoral gains while doing nothing to expand opportunity for the people.

This is Karnataka’s dubious distinction: caste and community have become the only subjects of public discourse. Politicians of every stripe are complicit. Instead of rising above these divisions, they deepen them, each new policy framed to satisfy one caste group at the cost of another. The state that once gave India towering social reformers like Basavanna and Narayana Guru, who fought against caste oppression, is now shackled to caste arithmetic as its primary political language.

The example from Uttar Pradesh should be a wake-up call. If caste identifiers can be removed there, why not here? If rallies and boards flaunting caste can be banned there, why not here? Karnataka desperately needs the same courage and vision — to stop perpetuating caste in the name of justice, and instead build real opportunities in education, employment, and social mobility. Without such measures, the state will remain a prisoner of caste politics, and its people will continue to see themselves as fragments rather than a whole.

The message is clear: caste obsession weakens society, divides communities, and destroys the idea of citizenship. Karnataka must break out of this trap. To do otherwise is to condemn itself to permanent backwardness, even as others move forward.