GLOBAL – On Thursday, 13 November 2025, the global discourse on identity, politics, and social justice is sharply focused on India, following its government's announcement to conduct a nationwide caste census with a reference date of March 1, 2027. This monumental exercise, the first of its kind in independent India, is poised to generate the most detailed portrait of its social hierarchy since the last comprehensive count by British colonial authorities in 1931. The decision ignites a deeply divisive debate within the world's largest democracy, presenting a powerful reflection for Kenya as it navigates its own complex landscape of ethnicity, resource allocation, and political representation.

The Indian census, delayed from its original 2021 schedule due to the COVID-19 pandemic, will now undertake the politically sensitive task of enumerating its myriad castes and sub-castes. Proponents argue the data is essential for creating more equitable affirmative action policies and targeted welfare programmes. Opponents, however, warn it could further entrench the very social divisions the nation officially seeks to dismantle.

A Familiar Debate for Kenya

The controversy in India resonates deeply with Kenya's own experiences with its decennial census, where the collection of ethnic data is a contentious issue. In Kenya, population figures are intrinsically linked to the allocation of national resources to counties and the drawing of electoral boundaries, making the census a high-stakes political exercise. The perception that population numbers translate directly into political power and economic resources has fueled inter-ethnic competition and suspicion.

Past Kenyan censuses have been marred by allegations of data manipulation and inflated figures in certain regions to gain political advantage. The 2009 census results, for instance, were so disputed that the government initially nullified the counts from several districts in northern Kenya. More recently, a court in January 2025 ordered a fresh mini-census in 15 constituencies in Mandera, Wajir, and Garissa, quashing the 2019 results due to unresolved disputes over alleged data suppression. These incidents highlight the profound mistrust that can surround demographic data in ethnically diverse nations and underscore the critical importance of transparency and accuracy—a challenge India will now face on an unprecedented scale.

The Case for Counting: Data for Justice

In India, advocates for the caste census, including numerous opposition parties, contend that the lack of up-to-date data has hampered social justice efforts. For decades, affirmative action—known as reservations—in government jobs and education has been based on estimates derived from the 1931 census, which found that Other Backward Classes (OBCs) constituted 52% of the population. A modern, accurate count, they argue, would provide a clearer picture of the socio-economic conditions of various caste groups, allowing for a more precise and just recalibration of these quotas.

This argument is bolstered by the results of a state-level caste survey conducted by Bihar in 2023. The survey revealed that OBCs and Extremely Backward Classes (EBCs) together make up 63% of the state's population, significantly influencing the political discourse and intensifying calls for increased reservation quotas. Proponents see this as a model for how a national census could empower marginalized communities with hard data to support their claims for a greater share of resources and opportunities.

The Case Against: Entrenching Division

Conversely, critics voice strong opposition, fearing the census will solidify and legitimize a discriminatory social structure. Scholar-activist Anand Teltumbde, in his book *The Caste Con Census*, argues that the exercise is a "con" that risks strengthening caste identities rather than contributing to their annihilation. He posits that, like its colonial predecessor, the modern census is not a neutral act of data collection but an administrative ritual that makes caste more politically salient and harder to overcome.

This perspective draws on the history of the British-era census, which critics say was a tool of a 'divide and rule' policy that transformed fluid social identities into rigid, state-certified categories. The fear is that a new census will trigger a cascade of political demands from countless sub-castes, leading to further social fragmentation. This concern is not unfounded; the Socio-Economic and Caste Census (SECC) of 2011, a separate exercise from the main census, collected caste data that was never fully released by the government, reportedly due to inconsistencies and the sheer complexity of the data, which identified millions of different caste and sub-caste names.

Implications for Governance and Identity

As India embarks on this historic count, Kenya and other diverse nations will be watching closely. The fundamental challenge is universal: how can a state gather the data needed to remedy historical injustices without inadvertently reinforcing the identities that created those inequalities in the first place? Kenya's own affirmative action policies, enshrined in the 2010 Constitution to address gender, ethnic, and regional imbalances, rely on demographic data to function. The integrity of that data is paramount.

The Indian experience will offer critical insights into the technical, political, and social hurdles of such an undertaking. For Kenya, it serves as a timely reminder of the double-edged nature of counting identity. While accurate data is indispensable for equitable development and fair political representation, the process of collection and its subsequent use can become a battleground for the very ethnic and regional tensions it is meant to help resolve.