On August 25, 2021, India lost Gail Omvedt (1941–2021), one of the most courageous sociologists, activists, and public intellectuals of our times. Born in Minnesota, USA, and trained at the University of California, Berkeley during the turbulent 1960s, Omvedt absorbed the intellectual energy of civil rights struggles, feminist movements, and anti-imperialist politics. These currents deeply shaped her sensibility toward liberation struggles. In 1971, she moved to India, a country she would not only make her home but also her site of lifelong activism and research. While she could have chosen the secure path of an academic career in the United States, she instead immersed herself in rural Maharashtra, engaging with Dalit, women’s, and peasant movements.
She lived in villages, worked alongside farmers, and participated in grassroots mobilizations, not as a distant observer but as a comrade in struggle. What set her apart was not merely her positionality but her intellectual commitment: Omvedt’s scholarship placed the marginalized at the center, challenging the Savarnas’ monopoly that had long dominated the discipline of sociology in India. She insisted that sociological knowledge could not be abstracted from the lived realities of oppression.
Yet, despite her originality and groundbreaking contributions, Indian academia persistently ignored her, exposing its bias in recognizing only those frameworks that served to sustain Brahminical authority rather than disrupt it. By highlighting the struggles of Dalits, women, and other marginalized groups, Omvedt consistently challenged the academic silencing of voices that questioned entrenched hierarchies. Her commitment to this principle was also evident in her choice to write in both English and Marathi, bridging the gap between scholarly work and grassroots activism.
The canon of Indian sociology, particularly from the mid-20th century, was shaped by figures like Louis Dumont, M. N. Srinivas, G. S. Ghurye, and André Béteille. Each of them, in their own ways, presented a perspective on caste that Indian academia celebrated precisely because it never fully threatened Savarna intellectual hegemony. Dumont, in Homo Hierarchicus (1966), reduced caste to the opposition of “purity” and “pollution,” reifying hierarchy as the essence of Indian society. By portraying caste as a cultural system rather than a structure of exploitation, Dumont naturalized inequality in the guise of anthropological detachment.
Srinivas, through concepts like “Sanskritization” and “dominant caste,” framed caste as a process of social mobility and adaptation, thus downplaying its violence and oppression. Ghurye romanticized caste as a civilizational core, effectively normalizing it as India’s unique social fabric. Béteille adopted a posture of liberal detachment that often refused to interrogate caste as a system of power and domination. Together, these scholars produced what can be called the “Savarna canon” of Indian sociology: caste was described, explained, and codified, but rarely challenged in its brutality. It was no accident that these frameworks were valorized by academia, for they aligned neatly with Savarna comfort zones of interpretation.
Omvedt also criticized the way Indian academia celebrated figures such as Gandhi and Nehru without questioning their limitations. Gandhi’s approach to caste, for example, she argued, was conservative. She critiqued Nehru’s post-independence “Brahmanical socialism,” which, though progressive in rhetoric, often reinforced upper-caste intellectual dominance in policy-making and bureaucratic structures. She emphasized that Nehru’s vision of modern India was egalitarian in theory but deeply Brahmanical in practice; it failed to radically transform caste hierarchies. This insight highlighted how Indian modernization, when filtered through a Savarna lens, often perpetuated rather than dismantled structural inequalities.
It was into this intellectual landscape that Gail Omvedt intervened with a different orientation. Omvedt practiced a sociology that emerged in dialogue with the oppressed rather than over them. Her works—Cultural Revolt in a Colonial Society: The Non-Brahman Movement in Western India (1976), We Shall Smash This Prison: Indian Women in Struggle (1980), Dalits and the Democratic Revolution (1994), Buddhism in India: Challenging Brahmanism and Caste (2003), Ambedkar: Towards an Enlightened India (2004), and Seeking Begumpura: The Social Vision of Anti-Caste Intellectuals (2008)—embodied this approach. Each book excavated and amplified voices long silenced.
She mainstreamed the work of Jyotiba Phule, Dr. Ambedkar, the Satyashodhak and Dalit movements, women in grassroots struggles, and even the spiritual visions of Kabir and Ravidas, which Savarnas in academia have continuously ignored. Unlike Dumont or Srinivas, Omvedt did not treat caste as a functional system or cultural peculiarity; she revealed it as a violent order of domination that had to be dismantled for democracy to flourish. She insisted that Dr. Ambedkar represented not only India’s most profound critique of caste but also its most rigorous theory of democracy and equality.
Her ethnographic work, particularly in rural Maharashtra, was groundbreaking. Omvedt documented the everyday lives of Dalits and women in villages, showing how caste hierarchies manifested in access to land, employment, education, and political representation. She combined historical analysis with contemporary observation, demonstrating that caste oppression was not merely cultural but structural, requiring systemic interventions. By living among these communities, she became a part of the movements she studied, embodying the very principle of organic intellectualism she theorized.
That Indian academia failed to fully acknowledge Omvedt’s contributions speaks volumes about its exclusions. Had she chosen to study Gandhi’s religiosity, Nehru’s socialism, or even Savarkar’s Hindutva, she might have been easily canonized. But because she centered Dr. Ambedkar, Phule, Dalit feminism, and the egalitarian imagination of “Begumpura,” she remained peripheral to the university syllabus. Sociology departments continued to valorize Dumont’s structuralism, Srinivas’s mobility theories, Ghurye’s civilizational romanticism, and Béteille’s liberal detachment, while Dr. Ambedkar’s revolutionary sociology and Omvedt’s engagement were sidelined.
Yet her intellectual and activist legacy survives precisely because it transcends academic gatekeeping. Omvedt was not a “voice for the voiceless,” a paternalistic phrase she rejected, but a comrade in struggle who believed that the oppressed already had voices and visions of liberation; the task was to amplify them, not overwrite them. Her life was also activism: she joined farmers’ struggles, women’s movements, Dalit liberation campaigns, and in her writings evoked Sant Ravidas’s dream of Begumpura, a casteless city of freedom and equality. Omvedt consistently connected theory to practice, showing that genuine sociology required both critical analysis and active engagement with social movements.
To remember Gail Omvedt is not only to honor her courage as a scholar and activist but to confront the failures of Indian academia itself—its unwillingness to embrace subaltern thought, its persistent Savarna bias, and its tendency to canonize those who reinforce rather than dismantle hierarchy. Omvedt’s life and work represent an alternative sociology: rooted not in hierarchy, purity, or detachment, but in solidarity, struggle, and egalitarianism. She leaves us with a task that academia has yet to fulfill—to build a discipline that acknowledges the contributions of leaders from marginalized communities and works toward the realization of Begumpura.
- Akhilesh Kumar is a PhD scholar at Jamia Millia Islamia University, specializing in the Centre for Dalit and Minorities Studies. His doctoral research focuses on “Conceptualising Marginality: Dr. B. R. Ambedkar and the Women’s Question.”
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