Periyar and his ideas
Conversation : S V Rajadurai, V Geetha & Vidya Bhushan Rawat on Periyar’s ideology, self-respect movement and opportunism of political parties
S V Rajadurai is one of the leading intellectuals from Tamil Nadu who has written, in English and Tamil, on a range of issues to do with Marxism and literature; with Tamil politics and modern history, including Periyar and the Dravidian movement and translated widely, both fiction and non-fiction. Associated with a broad spectrum of left movements, he has worked for several years in the civil liberties movement and was Vice-President, PUCL.
Geetha is a feminist historian, writer and translator, who has been active in the women's movement for several years. She writes, in English and Tamil, on issues to do with caste, education, feminism and contemporary Tamil society.
Geetha and S V Rajadurai have worked together for over 25 years - as authors and translators. Their major work comprises essays on the Dravidian movement and politics published in the Economic and Political Weekly, and the book, Towards a Non Brahmin Millennium: from Iyothee Thass to Periyar. They have also authored monographs on western Marxism, including a comprehensive volume on the life and thought of Antonio Gramsci. Rajadurai and Geetha continue to translate poetry and fiction from English to Tamil.
The importance of Periyar and his self-respect movement is immense and yet neither the Indian state nor the state of Tamilnadu where politicians chant his name, none have felt it important to compile Periyar’s speeches and writings and make it available to rest of the country men. This rare conversation of Vidya Bhushan Rawat, with Rajadurai and Geetha will definitely be important for students of social movements and political science in India. Even though it is lengthy yet it explains so many things hitherto unknown to common people.
VB : Periyar was one of the tallest revolutionaries of India. His thoughts on secularism, on Brahmanism surpass any other political leaders of his time. He was enormously popular with the masses. Why does today’s Tamil Nadu seem absolutely reverse to Periyar’s thoughts when we see the growing religiosity in the state and a huge number of Shudras following it?
SV & VG : Periyar’s radicalism comprised several parts – his critique of Brahmanism was many-sided. At one level, it was a rejection of the Brahminical abhorrence of labour and touch.
Describing the differences he harboured with Rajaji, who was also a personal friend, he remarked that C. Rajagopalachariyar (Rajaji) stayed true to his mission, which was that ‘he did not want his caste men to have to pick up a spade and labour’.
In another instance, speaking of the winning flexibility of Brahmin intellectualism, he observed that some Brahmins might abhor a ‘Panchama’ entering their homes, whereas others might not be averse to the same ‘Panchama’ entering their kitchens; why, some might even ‘allow’ a Panchama to enter the sanctum sanctorum of their altar-room, and there were Brahmins who did marry Panchamas.
In all this, though Brahmins made choices that worked to their advantage – he used the Tamil word ‘balithavarai’, that is whatever ‘worked’ for them. At another level Periyar argued that Brahmanism had to do with the hierarchical logic of Varna dharma, which, like a ladder implicates everyone – in this sense, each of us carries a ladder in our consciousness, and we measure ourselves and others on the basis of where we are placed on this ladder.
However, what drew the attention of the people at large was his critique of the Brahmin community’s proneness to separate and ‘upgrade’ themselves whenever they were challenged; and the hegemonic role they exercised in matters of everyday religiosity, culture, and in the modern period in arbitrating social values. Brahmin religious authority was also scorned – and Hindu religious lore was subject to merciless criticism.
Periyar also argued that ‘Dravidian’ faith and rituals were as ‘soiled’ by Brahminical exegesis and arguments, and dismissed, on this basis the Tamil Saivites’ claim to a faith (Saiva Siddhantha) which, they argued, was different from Brahminical Hinduism; he was equally dismissive of local practices of ritual, of village cults and so on.
Yet, given that the political force of his critique of Brahmanism addressed Brahminical Hinduism, the ‘Dravidian’ practitioners of Saivism, as well as those who were bound by local lore and faith, could detach Periyar’s animosity towards religion in general from his anti-Brahmin critique, and uphold the latter, while ignoring the former.
This was not of course true of his more consistent followers, including women. This is important to note, because atheism as household practice was common amongst those in the organisations he founded – and there were several intrepid women, who were proud to declare themselves atheists and insisted on secular burial rituals, when they passed away.
All this made for a public culture, where Periyar’s radical rejection and critique of faith – breaking of the Ganesha idol, slippering<1> portraits of the god Rama in public – enjoyed visibility and support; yet his more fundamental critique of faith, and the angry denunciation of caste that was implicit in his denunciation of Brahminical Hinduism were not always taken in and internalized.
Also, historically, religious ritual, including temple festivals, and the granting of ‘honours’ to local heads of communities during such events have served the purpose of affirming social status and rank in the Tamil context. This is as true of local temples as it is of the gigantic royal and Brahminical edifices that mark the Tamil landscape. So, in a sense, social personhood is bound with temple ritual – with religious and secular authority being nested in each other. This is why Dalits see it fit to challenge the prerogative that dominant castes arrogate to themselves during such festivals, and demand places and roles for themselves in the conduct of the latter.
Further, even those temple spaces which had been outside the sacred spaces dominated by Brahminical Hinduism have, over the last few decades, been ‘upgraded’ and they began practising Brahminical temple rituals – which of course require a Brahmin priest.
Worshippers at such temples which have been so ‘upgraded’ are mostly from the so-called Shudra groups, those we would designate as backward and most backward castes, if we are to resort to state terminology.
On the other hand, as we saw when the courts banned animal sacrifices in temples outside the purview of Brahminical control, there were widespread protests – and the local was upheld in the face of the ‘supralocal’ Brahminical view of faith.
What was forgotten in this debate was that the local did not always mean that it was inclusive of Dalits – and that while Dalits too may be invested in the local, it was always ‘their’ local. That is, they were not part of a putative and trans-caste local culture.
Here it must be noted that in the 1940s and after, particularly in northern Tamil Nadu, when Dalits were drawn to the Scheduled Caste Federation, and to Buddhism, they (some of them) gave up such practices of the local – they refused to be part of temple rituals in some cases, gave up animal sacrifices in others, and took to Buddhism. But Tamil Nadu is yet to witness large scale conversion to Buddhism as occurred in Maharashtra.
So, if we are to view Periyar’s life and work in the context of the longue durée<2> of history, and of the complex relationship between Brahminical Hinduism and local and regional practices of faith, we are likely to end up with a more sober view of his influence – he interrupted, powerfully and with intellectual and social verve a longer history of religiosity, but that does not mean that this history was stood on its head. Its logic persists to this day. Also, we know, from the histories of other nations that disavowed faith, that it was State power that dislodged the institutional authority, material power and resources of religions – and not rational persuasion or consistent civil opposition. This is as true of Napoleonic France, as it was of the Soviet Union.
VB : Most of the parties who claim to follow Periyar have become the parties of personal fiefdom of certain individuals and their families. It has resulted in huge corruption in the state. These parties have time and again compromised with the Hindutva forces. How would have Periyar reacted to such a situation if he were alive today?
SV & VG : Periyar would have raged against these practices – for one, he was suspicious of political power, as such, and many a time noted that power can and does corrupt, not merely in the material sense, but that it also compromises one’s social vision. He also noted that staying out of the precincts of power granted him a certain latitudinarian freedom, to criticize social and faith-based practices. Secondly, while he was a pragmatist and did envisage a role for the State in bringing about laws that would enable social change, such pragmatism did not ever stop him from continuing to criticize social and religious practices. That is, the demands he made of the State and of governance did not mean that these automatically fell in with those in power – and this is evident in his support for the Congress government in Tamil Nadu under the headship of the late K. Kamaraj.
As we all know, political pragmatism can be principled or not – Babasaheb Ambedkar’s position in this context is the most complex, and ethically mindful. At the same time, we have seen left and Dalit political groups, who are ideologically fierce, adopting a pragmatism that was not always as mindful – the CPI’s stance during the Emergency, the CPI’s and CPM’s support in the past of corrupt and anti-people governments and parties in Tamil Nadu, and Mayawati’s support for Modi during the Gujarat post-carnage-2002 elections. Clearly, pragmatism is viewed as ‘alright’ in the long run, while embarrassing and problematic in the short run – but this was not a position Periyar or Babasaheb Ambedkar would have accepted. Further, even when he supported governments that appeared to him to be receptive to social justice ideals, Periyar did not ever allow such support to interfere with his critical work in the civil and public realms.
Probity in public life was an important value for Periyar – and he always wrote scornfully of how much those in power earn, or benefit in a material sense. Yet he was not unmindful of what money could do, and kept a tight rein on his own organisation’s financial resources, and did not plot a role for kin in managing the latter.
VB: Many writers from Tamil Nadu portrayed Periyar as loud and foul who might have been anti-Brahmin but not really pro-Dalit. Many Dalit scholars used this analogy in their critique of Periyar. What do you think is the reality?
VB: It is ironical that Tamil Nadu is the hotbed of anti-Dalit violence. Most of these come from powerful communities like Vanniyars and Thevars. Tamil Nadu’s Dravidian movement was also dominated by them, but today the legacy is divided among various castes. Most of these parties have been converted into caste parties. Parties like PMK or Vanniyar Samajik Sangam have openly called against SC-ST Act. They support violence against inter caste or love marriages between Dalits and Vanniyars. Where is Periyar in all this? Why is it that mere anti-Brahmanism philosophy won’t work unless we have a very clear programme to take with us the vast sections of those who may not be numerically powerful communities?
VB.Periyar was a man ‘extraordinaire’, a genius whose connection with masses was supreme. He was a man of masses which we have seen from the huge sea of people on his death, in Chennai. Though he talked about anti-Brahmanism, take us to what were his specific views about untouchability as well as rights of the Dalits and Adivasis?
SV & VG : As we feel these questions are inter-related, we would like to give a combined answer:
These are important and complex questions. We will try and answer it as succinctly as possible. Let us start with brief historical descriptions of the four so-called dominant Tamil Shudra castes.
The first backward caste, numerically dominant in northern Tamil Nadu and well mobilized into caste organizations, comprises Vanniyars – associated for long with agriculture, but chiefly as tenants, and labourers, rather than as owners of land, at least until urbanization which saw an exit of landlords to cities which gave tenants and sharecroppers access to land, though on a modest scale; there are some segments amongst this caste that took to weaving as well. More recently, they have moved into the professions, including government employment on account of the larger logic of economic transformation, and of course reservation provisions, though their presence in these occupations, is not commensurate with their presence in the population. With large numbers still present and active in agriculture, they have also faced the brunt of the agricultural crisis, and in any case over the years, particularly in and around the Neyveli Lignite Power Plant, have steadily lost land to the project. The Vanniyars are well organized and politically have been active in the Dravidian parties, as well as Congress, and to limited extent in the left Kisan Sabhas – their political leadership has concentrated on agitating for a fixed share of reservation for Vanniyars – declared most backward – and on their representation in whatever political party is in power, at the state as well as central governments.
The next caste that we need to take note of comprises a bloc of communities, since known as the Mukkulathors, many of which are found in the southern districts of the state: a section of which is a de-notified community. Historically these castes – Agamudaiyars, Kallars and Maravars – have lived on the fringes of agricultural society, and were given to policing work and active militias in the pre-modern period. They do not appear to have been identified with particular occupations, though in the eastern districts, there are agriculturalists amongst them, including powerful landlords. Many of them migrated to work on tea and rubber plantations in Sri Lanka and Malaya<3> in the late colonial period. Elsewhere, they have settled into agriculture, as in the central districts, bordering Kerala – as a result of being ‘pacified’ by colonial authority and missionary activity. These communities came into their own in the 1950s – with the emergence of a powerful and charismatic local leader, who has since acquired the status of a revered ancestor, and is worshipped as such. They received a fillip through overt political support from the ruling AIADMK in the 1980s. On account of local circumstance, political patronage, and reservation they came to populate local administration, particularly revenue and police at the lower levels in the southern districts.
On the other hand, segments of the Mukkulathors were active in the left movement, particularly where they are agriculturalists, and in some left-led trade unions. They have been also present in large numbers in the Dravidian parties, Forward Bloc and Congress.
The third community that has proved influential comprises the Gounders, also known as Kongu Vellalas. Noted for their unrelenting labour, and often on rain-less lands in western Tamil Nadu, the Gounders are essentially peasants, whose skill earned the admiration of colonial administrators. Due to the economic changes that took place in this region, sections of the community have moved from being peasants to successful entrepreneurs in the textile and related industries, including in the export sector, associated with the hosiery industry in the boom town of Thiruppur. Kinship and caste ties have been central to capital mobilization by the Gounders, and while class differences persist, the caste as a whole is viewed as successful and upwardly mobile. Politically the elites amongst them were associated with the nationalist Congress, though large numbers were part of the Dravidian and communist movements as well. Caste associations have become increasingly prominent in the region, and their shrill politics of identity, coupled with demands for higher reservation have rendered them attractive to small town and rural ideologues, often silently supported by economically powerful caste interests.
The fourth caste I wish to describe are the Nadars – who were consigned to near-untouchable status in the 19th century and have since been one of the most mobile of communities in the Tamil context, with sections of them having become dynamic entrepreneurs, educationists and not only in the Tamil context, but in the all-India context as well. Nadars are not locked into status battles with Dalits, but have been with other backward castes in the past – though they are as watchful of endogamous limits as others. Some segments of the community have been drawn to Hindutva ideologies, and while to an extent this has to do with trade rivalries with Muslims, that is not of course the only reason as to why they have chosen to be with the Hindu Right. This is ironical, given that in the heyday of the self-respect movement, they were amongst the staunchest of Periyar’s followers. Their anomalous positon in the caste order has not ‘required’ them to practise untouchability, so to speak, but if one wishes to upgrade oneself within the social order, it implicates the self and community into observing varnadharma – and in the case of the Nadars, perhaps, that some have chosen to abide by Hindutva is indicative of the intermeshed secular-religious framework of the caste order.
Of these castes, Vanniyars, Mukkulathors and Gounders have been in the forefront of attacks against Dalits – though smaller sat-Shudra and the so-called most backward castes which are locally dominant have also been resolute in refusing to concede equal rights to temple honours for Dalits, and have been as inimical to marriages where one of the spouses happens to be Dalits.
Attacks against Dalits emerge from a position of social anxiety and of feeling threatened by educated Dalits, upwardly mobile Dalits, by their resolute refusal to heed caste hierarchies. Such anxiety is expressed in and through acts of crude violence, and often endorsed by caste outfits and political parties – for reasons that are contingent on the one hand, and have to do with the logic of the caste order on the other.
The question of course arises, and has been most sharply posed by Dalit leaders and parties, how may one reconcile these emergent caste interests, often expressed in charged language, and defined by their clearly spelt out antagonism to Dalits, with the fact that this is a state that witnessed a powerful anti-caste movement and one that came to political office.
Young Dalit intellectuals are wont to argue that the hypervisibility of these castes in political and economic life, and the social authority they continue to deploy against Dalits, points to the limited success of the Dravidian movement – that it was more successful in articulating an anti-Brahmin politics, rather than an anti-caste politics, and perhaps neither the movement, nor its chief arbiter, Periyar were as invested in the latter.
This is not a question that can be easily settled in the Tamil context, but the fact that in spite of over 50 years of non-Brahmin governance, violence against Dalits and resentment at their mobility and success, such as has been possible, persist – this is something that has to be taken seriously – and to do this, we ought to reflect on the past, as well as on how that past is invoked to explain, justify or argue present day concerns.
Incidentally, in Tamil Nadu there are as many Dalit intellectuals who find ideological and inspirational arsenal in Periyar for their anti-caste struggles (these are the ones not enjoying the benefits of bi-lingualism that enables one to reach out to an All India audience) as those who, for their own reasons and logic, tend to dismiss him as irrelevant to Dalit cause.
We would like to start by noting that we don’t think there is either historical accuracy or conceptual weight to the argument that Periyar was not committed to the annihilation of caste. Nor is it fair to claim that he was concerned only about non-Brahmin claims to equality with Brahmins.
If one were to examine his long political life and the manner in which he – and the organisations he founded, and the ideologues, publicists and people who were part of these – expressed their anti-caste politics, one could see that there were differences in emphases and arguments over time.
During 1925-1931, Periyar and his self-respect movement espoused a radical atheism, and strong commitment to ending untouchability; to the cause of civil rights, of Dalits, to access public spaces, including temples. They offered a principled, charged and satiric critique of what they termed political Brahmanism – this was their definition of Congress nationalism. They were equally critical of Brahminical Hinduism, of Hindu scripture, lore, and ritual and so on.
They held strong views on the women’s question, and argued through a politics of female freedom and autonomy – which insisted on women being arbiters of their own sexual and conjugal choices, and as free, as men, to commit themselves to public life and the public good, through the pursuit of reason, equality and justice.
From 1932 to 1937, especially until 1935, Periyar’s critique of caste was bound with a critique of its material and economic basis – following his visit to the Soviet Union in 1931-32. During this first decade of the Self-respect movement, we find Periyar addressing non-Brahmin Shudra and sat-Shudra castes, Dalits, women, men of property, learning as well as the very poor.
Dalit groups, caste associations, non-Brahmin civil groups were in touch with the Self-respect movement, and Periyar and others spoke in all these forums – and one of the most important indices of Periyar’s recognition of the centrality of Dalit claims on equality and justice is the unconditional endorsement that he and others in the self-respect movement extended to Babasaheb Ambedkar’s position on the communal award, and they were as fiercely critical of Gandhi as Ambedkar would be, in the future.
What we ought not to forget though is that Periyar was neither singular nor the first to address the Dalit question in Tamil Nadu, or in Old Madras. Dalit organisations, linked to newspapers, church groups, and to a politics of assertion and rights had been active in the province from as far back as the last quarter, if not earlier, of the 19th century, as is evident from the phenomenal life and work of Pandit Iyothee Thass.
Further research undertaken by young Dalit scholars such as Mathivannan, Stalin Rajangam, Ko. Raghupathy, and Balasubramaniam has brought to our attention the existence of complex histories of Dalit organizing across the state, which does not fit in all that easily into familiar political locations, whether to do with Congress, the Dravidian movement or the left movements.
So, in a sense Periyar spoke to a political constituency that was already politicized – and to be sure, he brought in startling new themes to do with radical republicanism and women’s equality, but his critique of Brahmins, and Hinduism were not unfamiliar themes in Dalit political circles – and in fact had existed from the late 1890s.
To summarise, this first decade of anti-caste politics witnessed a call to annihilate caste – in and through a denunciation of what Periyar called Brahminical Hinduism, temple worship, and through the practice of a politics of self-respect comradeship, which was founded on rationalism, and a radical politics of social and gender equality.
A radical sense of self, founded on self-respect was also seen as essential to lead a life, free of caste.
During 1938-1947, from the time when the Self-respect movement spearheaded a struggle against the imposition of Hindi as a language of instruction in the Tamil context, the critique of political Brahmanism acquired salience – as Periyar and his followers read this move to impose Hindi as representing the political and cultural will of the nationalist Brahmin-Bania combine, a will that they argued rendered Indian nationalism narrow in its focus, and committed to the hegemony of the upper castes.
This decade thus saw a critique of caste aligned to a critique of nationalism – and as India stood on the brink of independence, this double-edged critique expressed itself in and through a language of Dravidian nationalism.
This is the most complex part of our story, because it proved consequential: for one, it advanced a critique of the Indian nation-state which proved complex and subtle, which expressed the right of self-determination of the Dravidian nation; and it argued that the latter was, in essence, a caste-free utopia. However, the critique of caste that was implicit in this politics did not possess the acute social edge that it did in the former decades.
During the next important historical period – 1948-1952, we see Periyar fulminating against Hindu-Hindi-Hindustan in very radical ways and draw closer to the left.
However, post 1952, following the first general elections, and almost until 1967, he essayed a pragmatic turn, and gradually looked to the non-Brahmin Congress leader K. Kamaraj (who was Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu from 1954-1963) and his government in Tamil Nadu to fulfil his dreams of social justice – which had to do with reservation, the presence of Non-Brahmins in political office, and with pursuing modern, institutional and industrial growth.
Critiques of caste were now expressed in and through an Periyar’s endorsement of K. Kamaraj’s policies to do with affirmative action, and his commitment to a modern social and economic order.
Further, during this period, especially in the early 1950s, we see Periyar conceding that Dalits are better served by Dr Ambedkar, his ideas, and organisations and in this context, it would appear to those who wish to misread him, that he presented himself as a leader of the Shudras, and not of a putative anti-caste constituency.
Given this complex political history, how do we assess the legacy that he handed on? On the one hand, the Dravidian movement has achieved limited success, drawing on his radical legacy, with respect to reservation, and a populist welfarism. Dynamic and built into policy-making during Kamaraj’s time, this welfarism has since turned fierce (especially under the All India Anna Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (AIADMK).
This has also resulted in a situation where the Dravidian movement’s ideologues and leaders, of whatever political dispensation, have come to be identified with the ‘oppressed’.
On the other hand, this has meant that the graded logic of the caste order, the material basis of caste power and the cultural weight of caste when it comes to marriage have been matters relegated to the background by Dravidian political parties; even as particular caste constituencies were cultivated in the context of electoral politics.
Now if we are to put together the story of Periyar’s political journey and the historical changes that have beset the lives and fortunes of major castes in the Tamil context, we see a pattern emerging – Periyar’s anti-Indian State politics, his anti-Brahmanism and opposition to an imperfect federal polity did not translate into a locally effective ideology or plan to annihilate caste, though it possessed all the necessary ideological instruments to do so.
To be sure, his Dravidar Kazhagam (DK) that he founded (in 1944) was very effective in particular contexts, addressing specific instances of casteist violence, and in taking the part of Dalits during such conflicts, and in encouraging and supporting trans-caste marriages; but the DK did not develop a specific programme that dovetailed various activities into a concerted plan.
Meanwhile, the logic of development and of electoral politics (as we have briefly described in our account of the four dominant backward and most backward castes in Tamil Nadu) infused fresh life into older – and local - hierarchies of caste; even as Dalits sought to challenge the same. And the end result has been violence against and hatred and anger against Dalits.
To return to the question of the so-called backward and most backward castes, in this context: those members of these castes, who went with the ideologues and activists of the Dravidar Kazhagam in the post-Independence period, in a public, political sense, agitated against Brahmin power and sometimes against the caste order; at the same time, in their own locations, they remained particular castes, defined by their region, occupation, and relationship to Hinduism.
And their relationship to Dalits was acutely shaped by both factors: in some cases, positively by experiences of comradeship at least in the public realm; and in other cases, by local caste considerations, especially of status, precedence, and competition for public goods.
For example, if we are to take the Vanniyars they would view Dalits as fellow comrades in public campaigns against the Indian state, or for the cause of the Tamil language, and in the context of limited class struggles. However, and more often than not, they would be equally given to viewing them in a spirit of competitive envy.
Further on their own too, they had specific demands, for instance to do with reservation, and in these and other contexts, where they upstaged their ‘backward’ness, such assertion, even when ‘just’ in the context of graded inequality, was always shadowed by acts of violence against Dalits.
With the Mukkulathors, we find a different logic at work: challenged by Dalits from fairly early on, from the 1950s, if not earlier, they have sought to ‘punish’ Dalit assertion and independence, especially Dalit insistence on marking their own political space, through setting up statues of Dr Ambedkar, or other local Dalit leaders (such as the revered and much loved Immanuel Sekaran, who was cold-bloodedly murdered by a group of Mukkulathors).
With Gounders, we see yet another practice of dominance: and here the late Dr Balagopal’s analysis of what he calls the provincial propertied classes comes in useful – Dr Balagopal argues that in Andhra Pradesh, these classes, comprising economically powerful and socially dominant upper Non-brahmin peasant communities, such as the Reddys and Naidus, sought to assert political clout and power in a regional context, and against the national Congress, For them the practice of punitive violence against Dalits becomes a requirement, an assertive act of violence to mark their own recently acquired political authority.
While the Gounders are not necessarily opposed to the Congress, they are a powerful peasant caste that has come into industrial wealth and growth, and they underscore their social dominance through acts of humiliation and violence directed at Dalits.
Let us summarise: in the Tamil Nadu situation, some things are clear – from the early 20th century, Non-Brahmins and Dalits resented Brahmin authority and came together for various purposes.
Theirs was not a class unity or a comradeship based on ideological consensus about the caste system. Rather, it was defined by anger at Brahmin power and venality, and opportune politics; to be sure, critiques of varnadharma urged forth by Periyar and his self-respecters and later by the Dravidar Kazhagam were heard out, perhaps even internalized and accepted by some; as was the critique of faith, particularly Hinduism (certainly by Dalits, more than others).
There have been dramatic and particular campaigns against casteist authority, and centred on particular demands especially in the early period, from the 1920s to the late 1940s – and yet it must be said that while ideologically, the annihilation of caste was centred on a critique of Brahminical Hinduism, and the caste order it sanctioned, such critique did not always express itself through a singu
