In a political climate where caste and religion often decide the course of elections, Uttar Pradesh Chief Minister Yogi Adityanath’s decision to enforce the Allahabad High Court’s directive against caste-based rallies and signboards marks a significant shift. The move, whether welcomed or opposed, forces us to confront a truth we have long ignored: caste-based mobilization has become the single biggest divider in Indian politics.
The High Court had clearly expressed displeasure at the blatant display of caste identities — be it in the form of rallies, posters, or even signboards on police stations and vehicles. The Chief Minister, therefore, had little choice but to act. And yet, predictable outrage followed. The Samajwadi Party and the Congress, both quick to play victimhood politics, accused Yogi of stifling “democratic rights.” But one must ask: is a ban on caste propaganda an attack on democracy or a step towards strengthening it?
Criticism from parties like SP and Congress sounds hollow when viewed against their own track record. These are the very parties that institutionalized caste politics. The Samajwadi Party, dominated by Yadav leadership, has historically built its vote bank by coupling Yadav consolidation with Muslim appeasement. Congress, for decades, relied on minority appeasement to retain power, while quietly neglecting the majority of backward castes and Dalits. Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD) in Bihar perfected the same formula, reducing governance to a crude caste census of political benefits.
If these parties are now enraged that caste rallies are banned, it only exposes their insecurity: without caste arithmetic, their politics is reduced to little more than slogans.
It would, however, be dishonest to pretend that the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party is entirely innocent in this game. The party has, at times, indulged in Brahmin Sammelans, OBC rallies, and made deliberate references to Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s “chaiwala” or OBC origins to strengthen its social pitch. Even Yogi himself often makes no secret of his Kshatriya lineage. The charge that he is “hiding behind” the High Court’s order to selectively implement this ban is not baseless. The Opposition is justified in pointing out this double standard.
But here’s the difference: implementing the Court’s directive benefits society at large. It curbs the open flaunting of caste identity, regardless of who does it. And for once, a government has chosen to act, even if selectively, instead of ignoring the judiciary’s concerns.
India’s tragedy is that caste is not limited to politics alone. It runs deep in our everyday systems — from college admissions and government job applications to ration cards and bank forms. Everywhere, one is required to declare caste. Welfare schemes are designed around caste and sub-caste groups, reinforcing the very divisions the Constitution aspired to erase.
If the Modi government is serious about building a “New India” or “Vikasit Bharat,” then it must go beyond banning rallies. The real litmus test would be this: dare to remove caste from official forms altogether. Imagine a system where admissions, welfare, or recruitment are based solely on economic status or merit, without a caste column to pigeonhole applicants. That would be true reform. But are we ready to challenge this entrenched social order?
Our Constitution, in its spirit, does not endorse caste- or religion-based politics. Article 15 prohibits discrimination on grounds of religion, race, caste, sex, or place of birth. Article 325 bars exclusion from electoral rolls on such grounds. Articles 29 and 30 protect minorities but were never meant to become tools for perpetual appeasement. Yet, political parties have twisted these provisions to institutionalize caste and community-based entitlement.
The Election Commission, to its credit, has occasionally cracked down by questioning parties like Indian Union Muslim League or AIMIM that openly carry religious identity in their names. But such steps remain rare and inconsistent. What Yogi’s enforcement does is set a precedent: the state can, and should, act to dismantle these symbols of division.
Banning rallies or nameplates may not eradicate caste politics overnight. But it chips away at the normalization of flaunting caste identity in public life. That is a beginning worth appreciating. Critics may cry foul, but their outrage is less about democratic values and more about the loss of a comfortable political crutch.
For decades, caste has been weaponized to divide Hindus, fragment society, and secure vote banks. If democracy is to mature, India must move away from this reductionist arithmetic. Yogi Adityanath, by enforcing the High Court’s order, has taken a step in that direction.
But the harder question remains: will India ever muster the courage to uproot caste from governance itself? Or will it remain satisfied with token bans while allowing the deeper rot of caste-based entitlements and quotas to dictate national life? Until we dare to remove caste from forms, schemes, and political calculations, the real battle remains unfinished.
Thus far, Yogi’s ban is not the end of caste politics, but it is a bold beginning. Opposition parties, instead of crying foul, should reflect on how they themselves nurtured the monster of caste divisions. And the BJP, if it truly wants to lead by example, must apply the rule to itself as much as to others. The nation, weary of divisive politics, deserves nothing less.
