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Challenging the Status Quo: Dalit Assertion and Persistent Inequality in Punjab

Satendra Kumar and Nicolas Martin

Abstract

Building on anthropological and sociological literature that has critically examined the “silent revolution” thesis, this paper challenges the notion that political and cultural assertion among the Dalit community signals revolutionary transformation. Drawing primarily on in-depth ethnographic fieldwork that explores the Dalit struggle for common land in the Sangrur district of Punjab, it argues instead that Dalit assertion, while symbolically powerful and at times materially significant, continues to unfold within a context of entrenched caste dominance and institutional capture. While focusing on Dalit struggles to access village common land and to influence local governance, the paper reveals how dominant agrarian elites respond to challenges by reconfiguring their strategies, maintaining control over state mechanisms, and exploiting shifting political regimes. The analysis highlights how direct action and protests often result in only limited, reversible gains due to persistent and reconfigured structural and institutional barriers. It further underscores the precariousness of Dalit gains in the face of shifting regimes and policy reversals, exemplified by the recent rollback of pro-Dalit measures under the Aam Aadmi Party. Rather than addressing resistance as a marker of empowerment, the paper identifies the institutionalized dominance of agrarian elites as a key factor that shapes both the necessity and limits of Dalit mobilization. It concludes by arguing that meaningful change will require building countervailing political capacities capable of confronting the systemic roots of inequality.

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This research was supported by the Swiss National Science Foundation under project The Reproduction of Caste? Economic, Political and Kinship Strategies Among Jats in Punjab (grant no. 185 411).

1This article explores the Dalit struggle for village common land in Punjab—a movement that has already secured access to land in over 150 villages across Sangrur, Mansa, Patiala, and Malerkotla—by using a case study of a village where the mobilization first began, in order to build on the literature that critically examines the concept of the “silent revolution” and its implications. Christophe Jaffrelot's (2003) seminal work famously highlights how the fact that Dalits and Other Backward Classes (OBCs) in North India gained a foothold in politics constituted a silent revolution. It highlights how reservations in education and government jobs facilitated the rise of a small Dalit middle class, which in turn fostered the emergence of Dalit-led political parties such as the Bahujan Samaj Party (BSP) in Uttar Pradesh (UP). In combination with reservations, the emergence of these parties represents a shift in power dynamics, enabling Dalits to challenge and partially shift upper-caste control over the state and to create alternative channels through which to access the state and its protections (Jaffrelot 2003; Pai 2013). The work of Jeffrey and Lerche (2000) appears to confirm this by illustrating how Scheduled Caste politicians—including Mayawati Kumari herself—were able to force the police, who traditionally uphold upper caste interests, to investigate atrocities committed against Dalits.

2Over subsequent decades, however, the silent revolution thesis has been critically scrutinized by anthropologists and sociologists whose ethnographic research sheds light on what increased Dalit representation actually entails. Rather than signaling a revolutionary shift, their studies show how cultural assertion and institutional inclusion—while often taken as a sign of progress—should not be assumed to entail empowerment in policy-making and implementation, let alone a structural leveling of the playing field. Vivek Kumar (2006), for example, argues for understanding contemporary Dalit assertion as a “roaring revolution” rather than a silent one—marked by visibility, cultural pride, and vocal demands, but also constrained by co-option into mainstream politics and a drift toward symbolic gestures rather than structural change. In the same vein, Jaoul (2017) argues that the entry of non-government organizations into the Dalit movement in UP has diluted its radical, mass-based, and confrontational edge. Jeffrey, Jeffery, and Jeffery (2008) critically assess the limits of the politics of dignity, and show how Dalit activists at village level have been unable, despite their efforts, to invalidate entrenched inequalities and, instead, often become brokers serving their own kinship networks, without producing the kind of trickle-down effects for the Dalit community at large that Jaffrelot originally envisioned. Kumar’s (2017) examination of reservations for Dalits and Other Backward Caste groups in village panchayats in UP illustrates the ways in which entrenched inequalities and hierarchical divisions within Dalit communities undermine the transformative potential of political representation, restricting its capacity to foster empowerment at grassroots level. Recently, Michael Collins' (2023) work on Dalit politics in Tamil Nadu added a crucial economic dimension, highlighting how the financial constraints of a campaign compel Dalit parties to form alliances with dominant caste groups, which narrows their focus and prompts ideological compromises.

3Overall, this literature indicates that, regardless of Dalit assertion and presence in bureaucracy and representative institutions, persistent structural inequalities continue to subvert Dalit political assertion on the ground. Our analysis builds on this insight to examine whether and how these persistent structural inequalities constrain protest movements and direct action outside the formal arena of electoral politics. As such, rather than romanticizing resistance, this paper seeks to identify the power structures that make this mobilization both necessary and meaningful (Abu-Lughod 1990).

4Beyond Punjabi electoral politics—where Dalits have achieved only limited success despite constituting roughly a third of the population—they have engaged in cultural and symbolic struggles for dignity, while also working to carve out alternative modes of accessing state resources and protection through protest, self-organization, and grassroots mobilization. Scholars such as Ram (2007), and Jodhka and Louis (2003) have documented how Dalits, in response to discrimination and marginalization within Sikh religious institutions, have sought autonomy by building separate gurdwaras, cremation grounds, and independent religious institutions such as deras. In rural areas, many Dalits have distanced themselves from agricultural labor as part of their struggle for dignity and independence. In addition, Dalits have been pressing for equitable access to state resources, including welfare schemes and revenue-generating assets such as village shrines (Jodhka 2004). Finally, since the 2000s, Dalits in the Malwa region have been struggling to obtain their rightful share of common agricultural land.

5While the scholarship has rightly emphasized the significance of these developments as marking a departure from Dalits’ resigned acceptance of social and political subordination, it occasionally stops short of systematically assessing what these movements have actually accomplished or the structural limits they continue to confront. Our analysis aims to address this gap by foregrounding not just the fact and visibility of Dalit assertion but also what such movements actually achieve.

6This article draws on ethnographic methods—including participant observation, the collection of oral narratives, and semi-structured interviews—conducted across multiple sites and time periods. These qualitative methods provide a rich empirical lens through which to examine dynamics of power, resistance, and exclusion that are often obscured in more quantitative or macro-level analyses. They allow us to illustrate how rural elites—who continue to control both land and state institutions—systematically quell Dalit land struggles by using the law to oppress activists with spurious charges, manipulating local authorities and the police to counteract efforts made by pro-Dalit bureaucrats, and by capitalizing on the financial precarity of Dalits in order to wear them down. These findings not only highlight the precarious and contingent nature of the gains achieved by these movements, but also help to specify the structural and institutional barriers that continue to inhibit the formation and sustainability of effective collective action.

  • 1 Local markets for agricultural goods and services. They are regulated by the state governments.

7The ethnography presented here draws mostly on fieldwork carried out by one of the authors between September 2021 and October 2022 in Bannawal and Kanjjawal—two villages in the Sangrur district of rural Malwa—but also draws and builds on long-term fieldwork carried out between 2013–14 by the other author. The more recent field work entailed residing for six months in each of the two villages mentioned above and taking part in everyday life, while undertaking field visits and interviews in neighboring villages and nearby towns where tehsil, block and agricultural mandi1 offices are located. In all, 180 interviews with rich, small, marginal farmers, along with Dalit laborers, activists, and local leaders, including current and ex-panchayat sarpanches and panches, were conducted across both sites. However, the analysis in this paper draws primarily on material from Bannawal, supplemented with data from other villages. The author’s positionality as a long-term resident-researcher facilitated sustained engagement, as did their rapport with interlocutors, enabling access to both public and private spheres of village life. A follow-up visit in February 2023 was undertaken to update and triangulate the findings.

8For a number of reasons, rural Malwa constitutes a strategic site for understanding contemporary agrarian struggles and Dalit assertion in Punjab. First, Malwa is the region in this state with the largest Dalit population, with landless Dalits forming the overwhelming majority of the rural labor force but owning only a negligible share of cultivable land (Sharma 2015; Jodhka 2014). This stark imbalance makes Malwa the epicenter of struggles over village common land, minimum wages, and access to village resources (Singh 2016). Second, the region has historically been fertile ground for radical left-wing politics, from the Naxalite movement of the late 1960s and 1970s (Tatla 2006) to the emergence of powerful agrarian labor unions, such as the Krantikari Pendu Mazdoor Union (KPMU) and the Zameen Prapti Sangharsh Committee (ZPSC) (Kaur 2019). These organizations have played a decisive role in politicizing Dalit laborers and in foregrounding the question of caste within Punjab’s agrarian politics, which had long been dominated by Jat Sikh landed farmers and their unions (Judge 2014). Third, Malwa has been disproportionately affected by the agrarian crisis, including rising indebtedness, suicides among farmers and laborers, and the erosion of livelihood security (Gill 2016; Singh and Bhogal 2014), all of which has exacerbated the precarious conditions of Dalit workers. Taken together, these dynamics make rural Malwa not only central to understanding Punjab’s caste–agrarian fault lines but also an important lens through which to examine broader issues of land, labor, and Dalit assertion in North India.

9This article is organized into seven sections, including an introductory section and a conclusion. The first section outlines the central argument and explains the rationale for revisiting and contesting Jaffrelot’s authoritative thesis of a “Silent Revolution” through the lens of ethnographic material drawn from rural Malwa, Punjab. It contends that the notion of a silent revolution obscures the extent to which dominant caste groups continue to consolidate and reproduce localized forms of power that effectively undermine Dalits’ legal claims and political assertiveness. The second section examines the institution of village common land (shamlat) and explains why Dalits in rural Punjab have organized collective action to demand their rightful share. The third section situates this mobilization within a broader history of left-wing movements in rural Malwa and Punjab, thereby contextualizing the struggle within larger currents of agrarian politics. Section four turns to the sociopolitical structures of Bannawal village, mapping the entrenched socioeconomic inequalities and everyday power relations that shape local society. The fifth section focuses on Dalit youth and their collective organization—the Nojawan Club—, analyzing how their mobilization over land rights was met with combined resistance from the village and state apparatus. Section six demonstrates how the electoral ascent of the Aam Aadmi Party (AAP) failed to change these entrenched inequalities, reproducing instead a status quo in caste and class relations at village level. The conclusion highlights the way dominant caste groups, particularly affluent Jats, continue to obstruct the implementation of Dalits’ legal entitlements, thereby revealing the structural limits of formal democratic reforms in transforming local power relations.

VILLAGE COMMON LAND

10In Punjab, declining agricultural incomes since the 1990s (Lerche 2011; Jodhka 2006), coupled with limited economic opportunities outside the agricultural sector (Sinha 2021), have driven agrarian elites to attempt to diversify their sources of revenue by, amongst other things, competing for control over state institutions and the resources flowing through them. This dynamic is part of a broader pattern of elite institutional capture, long recognized in agrarian studies. The foundations of this pattern, as argued by Byres (1981), were laid by the Green Revolution, which enabled the emergence of a class of rich peasants whose material dominance facilitated their growing influence over political and institutional structures. As a result of these developments, agrarian elites continue to dominate land, credit, and local representative institutions, even though landlordism may no longer operate in its classical form (Harriss 2013). Thanks to ready access to education, an increasing number of these elites have accessed key posts in provincial administration, such as the police, a dynamic noted by Jeffrey (2001) in his analysis of caste dominance in western UP. Their embeddedness in these institutional structures facilitates accumulation strategies that rely on capturing state resource flows, and manipulating agricultural markets. These positions not only provide access to development funds, village common land, subsidies, credit, and procurement contracts, but also enable rent extraction via control over licenses and cooperative bodies.

11This institutional capture occurs directly at the expense of Dalit communities. By dominating local and regional representative bodies, for example, rich farmers effectively deprive Dalits of the opportunity to exercise meaningful power, regardless of the existence of seat reservations. When seats are unreserved, Dalits are unable to compete electorally because, as Martin (2014) shows, Jat farmers often spend over ten lakhs on distributing cash, liquor, and other inducements to secure victory—an amount Dalit candidates simply cannot afford. On the other hand, when seats are reserved and Dalits obtain office at village level, they do not necessarily wield power: some are set up to govern on behalf of powerful cultivators, while others lack the political connections, institutional knowledge, or connections to overcome active obstruction by the dominant local elite. As we will see in this paper, evidence suggests that the dominance of affluent cultivators often even extends to leftist political formations, where leadership structures and strategic priorities remain disproportionately shaped by upper-caste interests, thereby limiting the scope for sustained engagement with Dalit concerns.

12Institutional and political dominance also allows wealthy farmers to partially or fully appropriate a wide array of funds intended for Scheduled Castes, including housing programs, the Public Distribution System (PDS), and even employment guarantees under NREGA. Essentially, for the purpose of this paper, it also enables them to usurp control of village common land, including the share officially reserved for Dalits. This process of exclusion not only deprives Dalits of material entitlements but also reinforces patterns of dependency and political marginalization.

13Village common land in Punjab is generally categorized as either shamlat zamin or nazul zamin. The more prevalent, shamlat zamin, is owned by villages and managed by gram panchayats to generate public revenue for development projects. This land is typically leased to local farmers through annual contracts. The Punjab Panchayat Raj Act of 1961 mandates that this land be leased via annual public auctions overseen by block development officers, with one third reserved for Scheduled Castes (Mukherjee 2024). On the other hand, nazul zamin refers to land formerly owned by Muslims who migrated to Pakistan during Partition, which was specifically reserved for cultivation by Dalit cooperatives. Due to a high demand for agricultural land, both types—once primarily used for grazing livestock—have been increasingly converted into irrigated and cultivated fields.

14Gram panchayats with substantial shamlat zamin holdings can generate substantial revenue, benefiting both the village and state coffers. One third of the lease revenue from panchayat land typically goes to the state government, and two thirds remain with the village panchayat for local development and administrative purposes. For instance, a village with 200 irrigated acres could potentially generate up to Rs. 8 million annually. Approximately one third of village common land is reserved for Dalits to supplement their income through the cultivation of cash crops and fodder. However, farmers with good connections across the state have circumvented formal panchayat regulations and occupied this land, often paying minimal or no rent. In one village studied, farmers had not paid rent for decades, viewing the land as their private property thanks to their investments to improve it. In other villages, farmers were paying as little as Rs. 8,000 per year per acre of irrigated land, despite private land rates amounting to approximately Rs. 40,000. Consequently, gram panchayats and the state have lost a significant source of revenue, and Dalits have been deprived of a valuable source of supplemental income.

15Farmers who have appropriated this land have been able to do so because they control gram panchayats and because they have the support of powerful political patrons who make sure that the authorities do not try to stop them. This influence has allowed them to manipulate or bypass the required public auctions (khuli boli). Sarpanches and their councilors, sometimes in collusion with panchayat secretaries and senior politicians, frequently conduct these auctions privately without informing the public. As a result, only sarpanches and their allies can bid, thus maintaining low lease rates. Moreover, wealthy farmers use proxy candidates to circumvent the provision that one third of the land is reserved for Dalits.

  • 2 The Krantikari Pendu Mazdoor Union (KPMU) and The Zameen Prapti Sangharsh Committee (ZPSC) are left (...)

16Up until about 2008, few Dalits in Punjab actively sought to challenge the capture of village common land. However, in subsequent years, a Dalit movement for land rights swept across the Malwa region in southern Punjab. A new generation of educated Dalits, some with tertiary education, emerged as key leaders in the struggle. These young Dalits became politicized during their university studies when they came into contact and joined leftist organizations such as the Karantikari Pendu Mazdoor Union (KPMU) and the Zameen Prapti Sangharsh Committee (ZPSC).2 It is through these organizations that they first became involved in struggles for Dalit rights, and in particular in the struggle for village common land (Mukherjee 2024; Rahi 2024).

17For Dalit activists, gaining control over village common land is essential for achieving economic independence and reducing their reliance on Jat farmers. Dalit households typically have irregular and precarious incomes, derived primarily from agricultural labor or informal work in sectors such as the building trade. Fieldwork interviews revealed that, outside peak agricultural seasons, Dalits are employed for an average of only ten days a month. To supplement their limited incomes, some Dalit families rear livestock for milk production, which provides both sustenance for their households and a modest source of income from sales at markets. However, the fact that they are landless forces them to spend as much as Rs. 4,500 per month on expensive cattle fodder. Moreover, purchasing fodder involves accessing the fields of Jat farmers, which perpetuates caste and gender hierarchies. This reliance reproduces Dalits' economic dependence on the dominant caste—something that Dalit activists are seeking to put an end to. Collecting fodder, often regarded as part of women’s domestic chores, is predominantly undertaken by Dalit women who, while working in the fields, are frequently subjected to sexual harassment and mistreatment from landlords. This dynamic not only reinforces gendered exploitation but also sustains the systemic caste-based inequalities that Dalit movements seek to confront and eradicate.

18Access to village common land alleviates these burdens on Dalit communities. By securing a share of panchayat land, Dalit households can grow their own fodder crops and gain a degree of financial autonomy, and their members can escape the indignities associated with agrarian servitude. These economic and social benefits have been the driving force behind the rapid expansion of the Dalit struggle for land rights. In 2008, the movement was limited to a few villages in the Sangrur district. By 2022, however, Dalits had reportedly secured their share of panchayat land in more than 150 villages across Sangrur, Patiala, Mansa, and Malerkotla districts, emphasizing the growing scale and impact of their efforts. To explain the ongoing land struggles and the emergence of Dalit assertion in Malwa, the following section situates this caste within the longer history of left-wing organizations that have played a decisive role in shaping agrarian and Dalit mobilization over land in Punjab.

THE LEFT-WING MOVEMENT IN RURAL MALWA

19The left-wing movement, from which the struggle for village common land emerged, has a long and complex history in Punjab. It is rooted in both the pre-independence and post-independence periods, in keeping with broader political developments in India. During the early decades of independence, the Communist Party of India (CPI) played a key role in organizing laborers in Punjab, focusing on issues of land redistribution and workers’ rights. However, like elsewhere across India, ideological rifts within the CPI arose in the early 1960s, resulting in the formation of the Communist Party of India (Marxist), or CPI(M). The CPI(M) accused the CPI of being “revisionist” for abandoning revolutionary ideals in favour of accommodating parliamentary democracy and collaborating with what they called “bourgeois” political forces (Judge 1992). This accusation stemmed from a belief that the CPI had shifted its focus toward reformism and electoral politics, thereby diluting its commitment to an outright socialist revolution.

20A further fracture occurred in 1967 with the emergence of the Naxalite movement in West Bengal, which sought to overthrow feudal structures through armed rebellion. Many Punjab-based communists broke away from both the CPI and the CPI(M) to join this radical armed struggle. This led to the formation of the Communist Party of India (Marxist-Leninist), or CPI(M-L), which adopted an ideology rooted in the teachings of Marx, Lenin, and Mao. Unlike the CPI(M), which pursued parliamentary democracy as a means of social change, the CPI(M-L) rejected electoral politics and committed itself to the revolutionary armed struggle. From these foundations, the Naxalite movement began to take shape, and by the early 1970s, it had gained significant ground in Punjab. However, Naxalism subsequently faced a variety of obstacles (Singh 2022). To begin with, Sikh Khalistani militancy in the 1980s shifted its political discourse in Punjab away from the issue of class struggle—central to Naxalism—to issues regarding religious and ethnic identity. This made it difficult for the Naxalite movement to gain ground. In addition, the state crackdown on Sikh militants created a heavily militarized environment, making it practically impossible to coordinate any Naxalite actions (Singh 1994).

21From the 1990s onward, after intense state repression of militancy in Punjab, leftist movements re-emerged having shifted their focus. Rather than pursuing their armed revolutionary struggle, activists began concentrating on grassroots mobilization to address economic and social inequalities. They argued that agriculture in Punjab suffered from semi-feudalism—a system where large landowners maintain control over land and labor through exploitative practices such as sharecropping, high rents, and indebtedness, perpetuating inequality and dependence. To dismantle this structure, they emphasized building a joint front made up of landless Dalit farm laborers and the marginal impoverished peasantry. Traditionally, laborers had little say in farmer unions, which prioritized the interests of landowners. By uniting these groups, the Maoists aimed to challenge the dominance of large landowners and foster class-based solidarity to prompt broader social and economic transformations.

22Building on this new focus, movements such as the Krantikari Pendu Mazdoor Union (KPMU) and the Zameen Prapti Sangharsh Committee (ZPSC) gained traction, advocating for land redistribution, fair wages, and equitable access to panchayat resources. Supporting these efforts, the Punjab Radical Student Union (PRSU), a Maoist student wing, mobilized students in universities while working alongside the KPMU and ZPSC in rural areas.

BANNAWAL SOCIETY AND POLITICS

23We have chosen to focus on Bannawal because it was in this village in 2008 that one of these movements, led by Dalits, successfully mobilized Dalits for the first time to claim their rightful share of village common land. This struggle was significant not only because it represented a milestone in Dalit assertion in the region, but also because it effectively highlights the significant challenges these movements face, and it reveals the structural constraints that currently limit what they can realistically hope to achieve.

24Bannawal, like most villages in Punjab, is dominated by Jat farmers, who own approximately 85 percent of the agricultural land. Of the 909 households in the village, 550 belong to Jats. The majority of them are small and medium farmers who own less than 10 acres of land. However, a significant minority—137 households (25 percent)—are large farmers, each owning more than 10 acres, with a few classed as wealthy. Only two Jat households are landless. Historically, Jats are landowners, referred to as zamindars, and have maintained a dominant social and economic position in the village. Over time, however, the subdivision of landholdings across generations and a reduction in state support for agriculture have left some Jat households impoverished. However, some of the wealthiest Jats have grown even richer and more powerful by investing in commission agencies and various urban businesses (Sinha 2020). In addition, they have invested heavily in politics, which facilitates business opportunities by enabling access to state resources and influential networks (Chandra 2015).

25By contrast, Dalits in Bannawal, primarily comprising Ramdassis and Mazhabis, account for 260 households (28 percent of the total), all of which are landless. The 99 remaining households include Brahmins (Pandits), Banias, Muslims, Goldsmiths (Suniyars), Ramgarhias, Tarkhans, and Chimbas. Among these non-Dalit households, a small number are also landless, including two Jat, one Brahmin, two Chimba, and two Muslim families. In all, 29 percent of Bannawal's households are landless, with Dalits making up the overwhelming majority.

26Like anywhere else in Punjab, Dalits in Bannawal have historically worked as agricultural and domestic laborers for Jats, often under exploitative and abusive conditions (see Martin 2015, Jodhka 2014). Verbal abuse is still common, with Jats frequently using derogatory terms such as ‘Chamars’ and ‘Chuharas’ to demean Dalits. Over the last decades, however, the situation has started to change. Expanding economic opportunities outside the agricultural sector have allowed many Dalits to reduce their reliance on Jat farmers for their livelihoods. An increasing number of Dalits have taken up jobs as wage laborers, construction workers, and masons in nearby towns, while others have set up small businesses such as grocery stores, bike repair shops, and food stalls. Furthermore, a minority has secured government jobs in the army and police. While Dalits remain economically disadvantaged compared with Jats, these changes have afforded them a degree of social and economic autonomy, weakening their dependence on Jat farmers who dominate rural Punjab (Prakash 2015).

27The following section examines the persistent challenges Dalits face in translating their growing social autonomy into political power at village level, where the wealth and entrenched political influence of Jat Sikh farmers continue to ensure the latter’s dominance. In Bannawal, as in most Punjab villages, an elite of rich Jat Sikh farmers not only controls the land but also local and regional political and religious institutions. Across Punjab and, more broadly speaking, India itself, members of this elite are divided into factions (see Pettigrew 1975). In Bannawal, there is a left-wing faction (locally referred to as the “comrade” faction), a Congress faction, and an Akali faction. These are led respectively by three wealthy Jat farmers with political connections: Jag Singh (a former Naxalite), Ajab Singh (the incumbent sarpanch until 2023), and Karnail Singh. Although the recent entry of the AAP did, as we shall see in the conclusion, garner support among both Jats and Dalits, it has not formed a significant political faction in the village.

28Jag Singh, the leader of the left-wing faction, is a very wealthy and influential farmer who happens to be a former Naxalite and one of the first university graduates in the village. While he has never held the position of sarpanch, he commands considerable respect across both left-wing and Congress factions due to his reputation as a committed activist. His personal wealth further bolsters his influence; he owns 20 acres of agricultural land, his elder son runs a pipe factory, and his younger son has migrated to Australia. Furthermore, he wields significant authority in the village through his control of the main gurdwara. Ajab Singh, the leader of the Congress faction, is also a rich landowner—he owns 40 acres—and has held a variety of political roles over the years. He served two terms (1998–2003 and 2018–2023) as village sarpanch and led the village cooperative society for 15 years (1980–1995). His wife has also been a member of the village council, and his daughter-in-law serves as the chairperson of the Dhuri block Samiti. Moreover, his close ties with the Congress Member of Parliament from Sangrur further enhances his political clout. Lastly, Karnail Singh, leader of the Akali faction, owns 30 acres of agricultural land and has strong connections with the Shiromani Akali Dal (SAD). His political influence is partly inherited, as his uncle served as head of the village panchayat from 1992 to 1997. He has been an active leader within the Akali faction and maintains close ties with Dhindsa, the former finance minister in the SAD government. His stature in the village is further reinforced by his family’s financial stability, with several relatives working abroad in Canada and Australia.

29Given the entrenched dominance of wealthy and politically connected faction leaders like Jag Singh, Ajab Singh, and Karnail Singh, the election of a Dalit sarpanch in 2003 marked a significant milestone in Bannawal’s political history. The position was reserved for Scheduled Caste candidates under the Panchayati Raj Act; rival faction leaders backed their own Dalit candidates for the role. Harjinder Singh, an educated and ambitious young Dalit in his mid-20s and the son of a former siri (permanent agricultural laborer), received the support of Ajab Singh’s Congress faction, while the other Dalit candidate—an illiterate middle-aged laborer—received support from Karnail Singh’s Akali faction. Initially, rather than signifying a break from established power structures, Harjinder’s election appeared to reflect the broader pattern —documented by Martin (2015) — of Dalits occupying positions such as sarpanch, as “dummy” candidates controlled by dominant-caste landlords. These arrangements allowed Jat leaders to comply with reservation policies while continuing to maintain control over village politics through proxy leadership.

  • 3 Field diary, February 5, 2022, Bannawal village, interview with Harjinder Singh, ex-village sarpanc (...)

30Once elected, however, Harjinder made it clear that he had no intention of serving as a puppet for his Jat patron and instead prioritized Dalit interests. He implemented welfare schemes such as the Indira Awas Yojana to benefit marginalized households, securing loans for 40 Dalit families to build permanent houses made of brick and cement.3 In addition, he supported the construction of a community hall for the village’s Muslim minority. These actions not only challenged Ajab Singh, Harjinder’s patron, but also the traditional power structure of the village, long dominated by the three faction leaders.

  • 4 Field diary, February 5, 2022, Bannawal village, interviews with Harjinder Singh, ex-village sarpan (...)

31In response, the faction leaders joined forces to block and oppose Harjinder, launching a coordinated effort to undermine his authority as sarpanch. They falsely accused him of corruption, alleging that he had personally profited from the contract to build the school in the village, and even went so far as to entangle him in a court case over these allegations. These legal issues weakened Harjinder’s position and diverted his attention and resources, leaving him unable to focus fully on his initiatives. At the same time, the faction leaders turned many of the ward councilors against him, using their influence to ensure that these councilors voted against his proposals and obstructed his work as panchayat president. Isolated and increasingly marginalized, Harjinder found himself with only a few close friends from his school and college days in Dhuri who continued to support him.4 By the subsequent panchayat elections in 2008, the faction leaders had consolidated their power and succeeded in ousting him. A young Jat Akali candidate, backed by all three village faction leaders, replaced Harjinder as sarpanch, marking the end of his tumultuous tenure.

32The case of Harjinder illustrates how difficult it is for Dalits to exercise power at panchayat level, not least because powerful factional leaders tend to join forces in the face of challenges to their authority—as Kumar has also illustrated to be the case in a western UP village (Kumar 2023). However, despite his eventual defeat, Harjinder’s tenure from 2003 to 2008 planted the seed of Dalit assertion within Bannawal. His break from Ajab Singh’s patronage and his proactive efforts to represent Dalit interests marked a significant departure from a past in which Dalits submitted to the political dictates of their Jat faction leaders. His leadership led to increased political awareness among Dalits and inspired them to increasingly defy the established power-holders in the village, as explained in the following section.

NOJAWAN CLUB: A STRUGGLE FOR PANCHAYATI LAND

33The growing assertiveness among Bannawal’s Dalits was clearly demonstrated in February 2008 when Bahal Singh, a young college-educated Dalit, began mobilizing other young Dalit men to claim one third of panchayat land—9 of the 28 acres—reserved for members of Scheduled Castes. While their efforts ultimately succeeded, the journey was fraught with challenges that once again underscored the dominance of rich Jat Sikh farmers. Moreover, as we will see, any gains remained precarious since they did not fundamentally disrupt the existing power structures.

  • 5 In Punjab and in other parts of India, a "farm servant" is an agricultural laborer who works for wa (...)
  • 6 Field diary, October 17, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Bahal Singh.
  • 7 Field diary, October 25, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Bahal Singh. I spent a lot of time (...)

34Bahal Singh was the son of a former attached farm servant (siri).5 Experiencing the hard life of an attached agricultural laborer, his father had ensured that Bahal went to school in the hope that his son would one day escape the drudgery and toil of farm labor. After finishing school, Bahal pursued a Bachelor’s degree in Arts at Punjabi University Patiala. During his time at university, he joined the Punjab Radical Student Union (PRSU) and became fully involved in political activism. His engagement with PRSU activities brought an end to his studies and ultimately prevented him from completing his degree.6 Furthermore, his experience with the PRSU left him disillusioned because the organization rejected him after he had been arrested during a protest against increases in public transport fares, forcing him to face the consequences alone. Reflecting on this, Bahal expressed frustration at the left wing’s upper-caste leadership, accusing them of marginalizing grassroots Dalit activists. “The upper-caste leaders are a big problem for the left since they are not willing to share decision-making power with the Dalit cadre, such as me. They behave like dictators,” he remarked in an interview with one of us, stressing his disappointment with the movement’s internal hierarchy.7

  • 8 Field diary, November 6, 2021, Bannawal village, focus group interview with five Nojawan Club activ (...)

35Nevertheless, despite his disillusionment with the PRSU, Bahal remained committed to leftist ideals of equality and justice. On returning to Bannawal, he turned his attention to the plight of Dalit farm laborers, particularly women who faced humiliation and sexual abuse while working in Jat fields. On February 20, 2008, while collaborating with 20 other educated Dalit youths, he worked toward forming a collective called the “Nojawan Club,” aimed at fostering unity among Dalits and at helping them to secure access to village common land. In doing so, the group hoped to provide additional income for Dalit households while freeing women from the need to gather fodder and firewood from Jat-owned fields, where they were often subjected to harassment. To strengthen the Nojawan Club’s efforts, Bahal and his associates sought support from activists of the Krantikari Pendu Mazdoor Union (KPMU), who had been working with Dalits in nearby villages.8

36Their first step in the struggle was to organize a petition calling on all Dalits in Bannawal to demand their rightful share of village common land. While most families responded positively, some expressed skepticism. They felt trapped in their dependence on Jat farmers and doubted whether the petition would lead to any meaningful change. Furthermore, some warned that certain Dalits might continue to act as proxies for wealthy Jats during the auctions (Jats often relied on such proxies to bypass the reservation clause that limited their access to reserved land). This, they feared, would undermine their collective efforts. Others voiced concerns about potential retribution by powerful Jats. They worried about disturbing village “peace,” and warned that any challenge to the status quo might provoke violent retaliation. Some remarked that while Bahal and other educated Dalits might be able to leave Bannawal if the situation became very tense, most Dalits did not have the option and would have to remain and bear the brunt of the Jat Sikhs’ anger.

  • 9 Field diary, November 11, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Amar Singh, a Nojawan Club activis (...)

37Despite initial hesitation, in the course of three months, the Dalits gradually agreed to present a united front at the next annual auction for common land scheduled for May 2008. Bahal Singh worked tirelessly to foster solidarity, emphasizing the importance of unity and discouraging any Dalits from collaborating with Jats as proxies to bypass reservation clauses. On May 15, 2008, on the day of the auction, the Dalits gathered at the village dharmsala, only to face their first unexpected challenge: the panchayat secretary announced a 15% increase in the previous year’s price of Rs. 14,000 per acre, setting the starting bid at Rs. 16,100 per acre. This sudden price increase was beyond the Dalits' financial means, prompting them to voice strong protests.9

38The Jats, intent on obstructing the Dalits’ efforts to claim their rightful share of common land, reacted to the Dalit protests by hurling abuse at them, including caste slurs. The situation further escalated when the Jat sarpanch, a wealthy farmer in league with the ruling Shiromani Akali Dal (SAD), intervened to berate the Dalits. He accused them of already benefiting disproportionately from government schemes, such as reservations in education and jobs, and dismissed them as lazy and entitled, unwilling to work on farms though still demanding a share of common land. The panchayat secretary, for his part, refused to address the Dalits’ grievances.

  • 10 Field diary, November 15, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Ajab Singh, the incumbent village (...)

39As tensions reached boiling point, Ajab Singh, the former sarpanch and Congress faction leader, stepped in to allay the situation. While he managed to calm tempers momentarily, he was unable to persuade the Dalits to back down.10 The latter remained resolute, and the auction was postponed. The next day, May 16, the Dalit activists went to Sangrur town, the district headquarters. They gathered at the Civil Lines intersection and marched to the office of the Block Development and Panchayat Officer (BDPO) in town to demand a concession on the auction price. However, the BDPO proved to be as uncooperative as the Jats and the panchayat secretary had been. He dismissed their demand outright, arguing that the increased price was justified as it accounted for inflation. Undeterred, the Dalits decided to reinforce their efforts further by appealing to the Sub-Divisional Magistrate (SDM).

  • 11 Field diary, October 21, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Bahal Singh.

40Fortunately for them, the SDM, who happened to be a Dalit, understood their plight and supported their demand for a concession. Not only did he approve their request, but he also issued an official order on May 21, 2008 to the BDPO, instructing the latter that the auction be treated not as a profit-driven exercise but as a tool for promoting the welfare and economic development of Scheduled Castes (SCs) and Scheduled Tribes (STs), in accordance with state welfare policies. Bahal Singh later claimed that the SDM’s order affirmed the need to improve the economic conditions and livelihoods of SC/ST communities. Following this directive, the BDPO set the auction price at Rs. 14,000 per acre—a rate based on the average price at the three previous auctions.11

  • 12 Field diary, November 29, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Charanjit Kaur, a Dalit woman acti (...)
  • 13 Field Diary, November 29, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Ajit Singh and his son, Jat Sikh f (...)
  • 14 Field diary, November 29, 2021, Bannawal village, interviews with Ajit Singh, a Jat Sikh farmer.

41Unfortunately, the BDPO's decision did not resolve the Dalits' problem, and the rescheduled auction did not proceed as the Club members had hoped. On May 28, a Ramdasia man named Roni Singh managed to outbid them during the auction. According to Charanjit Kaur, a Dalit activist, Roni Singh (a Dalit) had acted as a dummy bidder for Ajit Singh, a Jat Sikh farmer. As a result, the land meant for Dalits effectively came under the control of a Jat farmer.12 Outraged at this setback, Dalit men and women marched to the common land and staged a dharna (sit-in). Ajit Singh and his family faced a difficult dilemma, confronted with the fury of the Dalit community.13 Furthermore, the Jat sarpanch warned Ajit Singh—who had obtained the land in the name of a Dalit (Roni Singh)—that the sarpanch and his fellow Jats would impose a social boycott on Ajit Singh if he allowed the Dalit protest to stop him from taking possession of the land. In Punjab, social boycotts are a form of punishment often used against insubordinate Dalits, where Jat farmers collectively refuse to hire Dalits for work and block their families’ access to Jat fields for fodder, firewood, or even for basic services such as toilets (see Ram 2004). This threat, however, did not sway Ajit Singh or his family, who worried more about antagonizing fellow Dalits and about further fueling the conflict.14

  • 15 The sarpanch proposed Rs. 3,500 per bigha (per acre = Rs. 17,500) in 2008 and promised to ensure th (...)
  • 16 Field diary, October 25, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Bahal Singh.

42Frustrated by Ajit Singh’s refusal and realizing that the protesting Dalits had gained the upper hand, the Jat sarpanch was ultimately forced to approach the protesting Dalits and to concede to their demands. The next day, he met with the protestors and told them that he would collaborate to implement the SDM’s order.15 The Dalits collectively decided to pay the price set by the SDM, determined to take immediate possession of the land and to complete the formalities at the BDPO’s office. The total amount required was Rs. 157,000. However, the matter remained unresolved because, when the time came to make the payment, it became apparent that the Dalits did not have sufficient funds. As a result, the Dalits would have to wait for a new auction date in order to take possession of the land.16

43Before the new auction could take place, however, panchayat officials unexpectedly increased the security bid fee for the land from Rs. 1,000 to Rs. 5,000 per acre. The Dalits saw this as a deliberate move orchestrated by the Jats to make the land too expensive for them. In response, Dalit activists approached BDPO in Sangrur on June 7, 2008 and invoked their constitutional rights and referenced the SDM's earlier order, which stressed that the auction of village panchayat land reserved for Scheduled Castes was to be treated as a welfare measure for the economic development of marginalized communities, not as a profit-making exercise. This argument proved effective, and the officials agreed to reduce the security fee to Rs. 2,000 per acre. The auction was scheduled for June 21, 2008.

  • 17 A tehsil-level bureaucrat who supervises the auction of village common land.
  • 18 A Naib-Tehsildar is a Class II Gazetted officer in India who serves as the immediate subordinate to (...)
  • 19 Field diary, November 30, 2021, interview with Dalit activists.

44The Jats once again had tricks up their sleeves. On the day of the auction (June 21), the Naib-Tehsildar17 and several police officers arrived in Bannawal village to supervise the proceedings, ostensibly to prevent any conflict, given the tensions between the Dalits and Jats. However, their conduct clearly suggested that they were, in fact, there to assist the Jats. According to Dalit accounts, the Naib-Tehsildar18 actively colluded with the Jats to block Dalit participation in the auction.19 He falsely informed the Dalits gathered at the village dharmshala (in Bannawal) that the auction had been canceled. Trusting him, the Dalits had not bothered to enter the building and had instead waited outside to discuss the situation amongst themselves. Unbeknownst to them, the auction was secretly proceeding just steps away from where they stood. Once it had finished, the Jats came out of the dharmshala and began to mock and taunt the Dalits who were waiting outside. The sarpanch’s younger brother asked them with a sneer, “Have you Chamars got the land? The Jats are taking the land.” This taunt highlights the Jats’ sense of impunity and their success in manipulating the system to their advantage.

  • 20 Field diary, November 30, 2021, interview with Dalit activists.

45In response, a group of Dalits decided that very same day to travel to the SDM’s office in Sangrur, an hour away, to lodge a formal complaint. On their return, as they entered their own village, Bannawal, they were ambushed by a mob of 60 to 70 Jat Sikhs armed with lathis. The Jats violently attacked them with sticks and abused them verbally. When Dalit women tried to intervene, the Jats assaulted them, grabbing and molesting them. Throughout the assault, the Jats hurled caste slurs at the Dalits. Leading and instigating the attack was the village’s Jat sarpanch, who organized the mob of protesters and encouraged the violence.20

  • 21 Field diary, November 29, 2021, interview with Charanjit Kaur, a Dalit woman activist.

46All of this occurred in full view of the police who had remained in the village due to the evident risk of conflict between Jats and Dalits and who made no effort to stop the attack. Worse still, they allowed some Jats to take lathis from their vehicles and to use them against the Daltis. Outraged, the Dalits accused the police of siding with the Jats instead of fulfilling their duty to protect everyone. One of the protesters said, “You are supposed to protect us. Instead, you are giving them lathis to beat us. Don’t you feel ashamed?” The Station House Officer (SHO) dismissed their accusations, claiming that he had been unaware of the incident as he had gone to the washroom at the time. When the protesters pressed him further, he became furious and lashed out with a casteist slur, warning them, “You chamars will be beaten up again if you try to enter the police station.” The village sarpanch, who was present throughout, threatened them with false police charges.21

  • 22 It is a well-documented fact, including in the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) 2020 report, th (...)

47Despite the threats and violence, the Dalits remained undeterred. They retorted that they were not afraid of beatings, bullets, or false police charges and vowed not only to cancel the fraudulently conducted auction but also to have the village sarpanch arrested. Determined to take their fight further, they immediately traveled back to Sangrur and marched to the office of the Superintendent of Police (SP) and staged a dharna in front of it. After a four-hour protest, around midnight on June 21, they managed to persuade the police to file an FIR against the village sarpanch and 17 other people. However, the police refused to invoke the Scheduled Castes/Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989 [SC/ST (PoA) Act, 1989], despite the FIR explicitly detailing caste-based abuse by the Jat-Sikhs. Instead, the case was mitigated, with the police registering it under sections related to physical assault and injuries, framing the incident as a clash between two equal parties. This outcome reflected a broader pattern of police handling of caste-based violence, where local elites often manage to render the SC/ST Act ineffective.22

48Despite opposition from the police, panchayat officials and the village sarpanch, Bahal Singh and his associates knew they needed to act decisively if the fraudulent auction was to be canceled and to secure access to the common land. The next day, June 22, fully determined, they staged a sit-in in front of the SDM’s office in Sangrur. After four days of non-stop demonstrations, the SDM called a meeting on June 25 with five representatives from the protest. During the meeting, the SDM agreed to hold another auction and instructed the tehsildar and BDPO to organize it in the Dalit neighborhood, as demanded by the activists.

  • 23 Field diary, October 11, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Ginder Singh, a Dalit man.

49After everything the Dalits had been through, their objective was finally in sight; yet another last-minute obstacle arose. On the evening of June 28, before the scheduled auction, Bahal Singh and his associates realized that they did not have the Rs. 157,000 required as a lump-sum payment for the nine acres of land. During tense discussions, a Dalit man named Ginder asked if the Committee had managed to collect the funds.23 When they admitted that they did not have them, Ginder offered to help by borrowing the full amount from his employer, Ajab Singh, a former sarpanch who no doubt saw this as an opportunity to secure future political support from the Dalit community.

  • 24 1 biswa = 1,350 sq. ft.
  • 25 Field diary, October 18, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Bahal Singh.

50Finally, on June 29, 2008, the 11-member committee, led by Bahal Singh, obtained the nine acres of land reserved for Scheduled Castes on a one-year lease. Once in possession of it, they divided the land among approximately 100 Dalit families, each receiving a small plot (1 to 5 biswa each24) to grow fodder.25 During the winter, the committee strategically retained a portion of the land to cultivate wheat, which was sold to raise funds for the following year’s auction. Securing these nine acres brought meaningful changes, particularly for Dalit women, by reducing their reliance on Jat farmers for fodder and other resources. However, while obtaining the land was an undeniable victory, it did not topple the entrenched power structures or address the systemic economic inequalities in the village. The Jats continued to dominate local resources and politics, while most Dalits remained landless and economically dependent on Jat farmers for their livelihoods. Though symbolically and pragmatically important, the Dalits’ success was ultimately just one step toward poverty alleviation rather than a transformative shift in the balance of power.

THE AAP AND THE ENTRENCHMENT OF A STATUS QUO

51A shift in the balance of power and a greater sense of security regarding ongoing Dalit access to village common land would require the emergence of a pro-poor political party or, at the very least, a party committed to enforcing land rights for marginalized groups. As Manor and Crook (1998) have noted in their work on gram panchayats, such institutional support is often essential to enable the poor to benefit from democratic decentralization. The AAP initially provided them with this hope.

  • 26 Despite the evident long-standing opposition of farmers’ unions (which are dominated by rich and mi (...)

52Nevertheless, the AAP has done little to alter the status quo in which Punjab’s political and economic elites are able to subvert the state to serve their own interests. Dalits in Bannawal supported the AAP in 2014, 2019, and 2022 largely in protest against the entrenched corruption of the Congress and Shiromani Akali Dal (SAD) parties. In 2022, moreover, they supported the party because it promised to bring land reforms, to earmark panchayat land for Dalit housing, to provide employment for Dalits, and to create scholarships for Dalit students.26

53When Bhagwant Mann became chief minister, he even adopted Bannawal as an “MP village,” pledging to transform it into a model for development. Nevertheless, in the following years, Mann failed to visit Bannawal despite repeated invitations from Bahal Singh and the Nojawan Club who sought his support for various Dalit welfare initiatives. Furthermore, by March 2023, none of Bhagwant Mann’s promises to Bannawal Dalits had materialized. Worse still, the AAP government repealed a pro-Dalit policy introduced by the Congress in 2018, which had ensured that panchayat common land auctions took place at fair rates in Dalit dharmshalas or neighborhoods. This policy had boosted Dalit morale and curbed manipulation by Jat farmers, who traditionally held secret auctions on their own turf to prevent Dalit participation. Withdrawal of the policy not only undermined the Dalit struggle for land but also reinforced Jat dominance. Bahal Singh highlighted the latter by noting that Mann frequently flaunted his farming and caste identity, proudly declaring himself a “Jatt’s putt” (son of a Jat). “The AAP government belongs to the Jat farmers,” Bahal concluded.

54AAP’s governance in Punjab has not marked a break from the coercive and patronage-based tactics of its predecessors, particularly the Shiromani Akali Dal. Instead, it has perpetuated a political culture in which power is wielded through both incentives and threats—a system rooted in the principle of “might is right.” This culture not only favors impunity but also institutionalizes a structure that suppresses dissent and enforces compliance, undermining hopes for equitable governance. This is illustrated, among other things, by the fact that former Akali and Congress sarpanches have been forced to shift their loyalties to the AAP. Our research revealed not only widespread allegations but also concrete evidence of local AAP MLAs’ misuse of state machinery. Village secretaries and junior engineers (JEs) have reportedly been mobilized to coerce former Congress and Akali sarpanches and panchayat members into joining the AAP. For instance, a young Jat sarpanch in Sangrur district, previously affiliated with the Congress, recounted how administrative hurdles forced him to adhere to the local AAP MLA. He further disclosed that the MLA had instructed him to persuade a Dalit panchayat member to join their faction by offering a bribe. If this approach failed, the MLA instructed him to intimidate the Dalit member by threatening the latter with false police charges. According to the sarpanch, such threats would inevitably compel the Ramdasia member to seek help from the MLA, thereby coercing him into compliance.

55The continuity in political practices demonstrates that the arrival of the AAP has not altered the entrenched power dynamics in rural Punjab. Instead, it has simply realigned the allegiances of the local elite and wealthy Jats, who have shifted from the Congress and Akali factions to the AAP. For Dalits, this persistence of a coercive political culture limits the potential for meaningful change, leaving their struggles for rights and resources vulnerable to the same systemic barriers.

CONCLUSION

56What this paper ultimately reveals is not a silent revolution, but something closer to a roaring stalemate—a condition characterized by intense assertions from below that fail to break through entrenched power structures and yield only limited, reversible gains. In Punjab, for example, despite reservations and widespread Dalit assertions, rich farmers continue to dominate key administrative roles, while wielding significant influence over major political parties in Punjab and occupying elected offices at all levels, including panchayat level (see Martin 2015, 2018). As the events in Bannawal demonstrate, this influence enables them to create numerous obstacles to block Dalits’ struggle for rights. Among other tactics, they use their influence to hold auctions for common land in the privacy of their homes, to delay auctions, and to intimidate and divide Dalits, sometimes with support from the police.

57Our findings show, moreover, that direct action and protests often prompt dominant elites to swiftly regroup and reassert control, rather than induce sustained structural change. As a result, even limited hard-won gains remain precarious and vulnerable to a reverse situation, particularly when elites are able to establish a state or national-level government that serves their interests. In the UP context, this is illustrated by the fact that some of the gains that Dalits have achieved under the BSP regarding policing, as discussed in the introduction, did not reportedly persist once the party lost power. As Sudha Pai (2023) notes, following the BSP's defeat in UP in 2012, incidents of caste violence increased as dominant castes became emboldened. This trend worsened under the BJP, where atrocities against Dalits further escalated and were met with indifference or inaction by the state.

58This paper illustrates how agrarian elites appear to have redirected the AAP’s priorities. With the AAP's rise to power, some of the modest gains achieved by Dalits under the Congress—such as the 2018 policy mandating that common land auctions be held in Dalit dharmshalas at fair and transparent rates—were rolled back by a party that had initially pledged support for Dalit land rights. This policy had previously played a crucial role in curbing elite manipulation by increasing Dalit participation and shifting the auction process onto neutral ground. Its rollback, along with the party's failure to implement promised reforms in land allocation and Dalit welfare, has not only weakened institutional protection but has also allowed dominant caste groups to reassert their control over key local mechanisms. As Chibber (2022) argues, this vulnerability reflects the capacity of dominant classes to remain united and to rapidly reconfigure their strategies of control in the face of challenges from below—cohesion that subaltern groups often lack due to their fragmented social and institutional positions.

59As Jaffrelot and others have pointed out, it is somewhat true that reserved state jobs have provided Dalits with alternative avenues to access the state and to bypass upper-caste elites who have historically controlled this sphere. Thus, the case of the Dalit SDM, who helped ensure the affordability of the common land leasing fee for Dalits, illustrates how the presence of Dalits within the state can provide them with channels to bypass established elites. However, other than the fact that these channels are subject to closure when there is a shift in political regime, our case illustrates their limited effectiveness due to their reliance on the cooperation of other state personnel, including the police, who may act to serve dominant interests, thereby actively undermining their directives. More generally, Dalit politicians and bureaucrats may be unable to serve Dalit interests because they operate within institutions whose priorities and operational norms are shaped and controlled by dominant local elites. Once again, the dominant classes retain the upper hand precisely because of their institutional dominance, which enables them to block or neutralize subaltern efforts from within the very structures meant to deliver equity.

60Therefore, rather than romanticizing resistance, which Abu-Lughod (1990) warns against, our analysis has sought to identify the specific power structures that make this mobilization both necessary and meaningful. These include, most notably in our context, the institutionalized dominance of agrarian elites over party politics, local governance structures, and the gatekeeping function of elite-dominated bureaucratic networks. Such institutionalized dominance not only obstructs change, but also actively configures the conditions under which resistance becomes both a vital mode of survival and a site of strategic containment.

61Identifying these forms of dominance is crucial not only for a clear analysis, but also for assessing the merits of different political strategies. Without that, scholars risk sustaining the illusion that the institutions of representative democracy alone—regardless of persistent inequalities in social, economic, and institutional power—can accommodate the claims of the most marginalized. Progressive political transformation requires clear-eyed recognition of the way entrenched classes maintain their power—most notably through their control over the means of production and their ability to shape policy, discourse, and enforcement mechanisms. By mapping these forms of dominance, we can move beyond celebratory accounts of resistance to assess the actual leverage available to subaltern groups as well as the strategic possibilities at hand. This does not mean abandoning the transformative potential of collective action, but recognizing that such potential depends on establishing countervailing forces and coalitions capable of challenging elite control not just episodically, but systemically. As Chibber points out, these counterforces require elements such as the creation of durable political organizations, the establishment of a unifying ideology that can forge solidarity across fragmented subaltern groups, and access to financial and institutional resources that enable sustained political engagement.

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Notes

1 Local markets for agricultural goods and services. They are regulated by the state governments.

2 The Krantikari Pendu Mazdoor Union (KPMU) and The Zameen Prapti Sangharsh Committee (ZPSC) are left-wing, radical agrarian labor organizations active in rural Punjab. These are primarily made up of Dalit agricultural laborers and landless peasants. While the KPMU is aligned with CPI (ML) Liberation, legal-mass politics, and broader class-struggle, the ZPSC is more autonomous but associated with radical Naxalite traditions, militant land struggles, and caste-specific Dalit assertion. However, both actually overlap: they fight village common/Shamlat land battles, caste exclusion, and wage exploitation, but their political idioms and alliances diverge.

3 Field diary, February 5, 2022, Bannawal village, interview with Harjinder Singh, ex-village sarpanch.

4 Field diary, February 5, 2022, Bannawal village, interviews with Harjinder Singh, ex-village sarpanch and ex-village panches.

5 In Punjab and in other parts of India, a "farm servant" is an agricultural laborer who works for wages (daily, piece rate, or seasonal) but is not tied to a particular landowner. An "attached farm servant" is a laborer who is tied to a specific landowning household through a long-term contract, bond, or patron–client relationship.

6 Field diary, October 17, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Bahal Singh.

7 Field diary, October 25, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Bahal Singh. I spent a lot of time with Bahal Singh and gradually gained his friendship. I formally recorded his interviews and had countless informal conversations with him on several occasions in informal settings. He introduced me to several KPMU and ZPZC Dalit activities. He helped me to attend the internal meetings of these organizations and allowed me to participate in their protest marches in Sangrur, Dhuri, Malarkotala, Ludhiana, and several villages.

8 Field diary, November 6, 2021, Bannawal village, focus group interview with five Nojawan Club activists.

9 Field diary, November 11, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Amar Singh, a Nojawan Club activist.

10 Field diary, November 15, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Ajab Singh, the incumbent village sarpanch.

11 Field diary, October 21, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Bahal Singh.

12 Field diary, November 29, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Charanjit Kaur, a Dalit woman activist.

13 Field Diary, November 29, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Ajit Singh and his son, Jat Sikh farmers.

14 Field diary, November 29, 2021, Bannawal village, interviews with Ajit Singh, a Jat Sikh farmer.

15 The sarpanch proposed Rs. 3,500 per bigha (per acre = Rs. 17,500) in 2008 and promised to ensure that the rate would be Rs. 3,000 per bigha the following year.

16 Field diary, October 25, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Bahal Singh.

17 A tehsil-level bureaucrat who supervises the auction of village common land.

18 A Naib-Tehsildar is a Class II Gazetted officer in India who serves as the immediate subordinate to a Tehsildar. They handle daily administrative and revenue-related duties.

19 Field diary, November 30, 2021, interview with Dalit activists.

20 Field diary, November 30, 2021, interview with Dalit activists.

21 Field diary, November 29, 2021, interview with Charanjit Kaur, a Dalit woman activist.

22 It is a well-documented fact, including in the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) 2020 report, that the conviction rate under the SC/ST Act remains exceedingly low.

23 Field diary, October 11, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Ginder Singh, a Dalit man.

24 1 biswa = 1,350 sq. ft.

25 Field diary, October 18, 2021, Bannawal village, interview with Bahal Singh.

26 Despite the evident long-standing opposition of farmers’ unions (which are dominated by rich and middle-class farmers)—to redistributive land reforms, particularly to introducing legislation on a ceiling on landholdings, the farmers’ movement of 2021 momentarily forged a tenuous alliance with Jats and Dalits, or, to put it in other words, this alliance was more symbolic, with the aim of showing unity at village level.

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References

Electronic reference

Satendra Kumar and Nicolas Martin, Challenging the Status Quo: Dalit Assertion and Persistent Inequality in PunjabSouth Asia Multidisciplinary Academic Journal [Online], 34 | 2025, Online since 21 October 2025, connection on 21 January 2026. URL: http://journals.openedition.org/samaj/10471; DOI: https://doi.org/10.4000/15afl

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About the authors

Satendra Kumar

Satendra Kumar is a social anthropologist and is a visiting researcher at the Institute of Asian and Oriental Studies, University of Zurich. His scholarship examines the everyday practices of politics, inequality, and agrarian mobilisation in contemporary India, with a particular focus on Uttar Pradesh and Punjab, drawing on long-term ethnographic fieldwork and interdisciplinary methodologies. He has been awarded the British Academy Fellowship at the London School of Economics and Political Science (LSE) and has held visiting fellowships at Johns Hopkins University. He currently serves as Co-Editor of the Journal of Peasant Studies (JPS).
satendra.kumar@uzh.ch

Nicolas Martin

Nicolas Martin became Associate Professor of Indian/South Asian Studies at the University of Zurich in 2022, having previously held the Mercator Professorship in the same field (awarded in 2016). He earlier held positions at the London School of Economics and University College London. His research focuses on inequality and citizenship in rural South Asia, grounded in extensive ethnographic fieldwork in both Pakistani and Indian Punjab. He currently supervises doctoral and post-doctoral projects on social mobility and religion, electoral politics and welfare provision, and debt and micro-credit.
nicolas.martin@aoi.uzh.ch 

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