Food is more than just sustenance. It is a reflection of culture, identity and power. In India, where diversity is celebrated in theory, the politics of food has become a battleground, exposing deep-seated societal hierarchies and divisions. While the majority of Indians consume non-vegetarian food, it is often banned at official events, creating a paradox where a minority dietary preference—vegetarianism—
The numbers tell the story
The data is clear: non-vegetarianism is the norm in India. According to the National Family Health Survey (NFHS-5, 2019-2021), 71 per cent of Indian women and 81 per cent of men consume meat, fish or eggs. The India Human Development Survey (IHDS, 2011-2012) reveals that only about 39 per cent of Indian households identify as vegetarian, with significant regional and caste-based variations. Vegetarianism is more prevalent in northern states, particularly among upper-caste Hindus, while southern and north-eastern states have higher proportions of non-vegetarians. Religious and caste identities further complicate the picture. A 2021 Pew Research Center report highlights how these factors deeply influence dietary preferences. While Jainism mandates strict vegetarianism, Hinduism—India’s majority religion—encompasses a wide range of dietary practices. Upper-caste Hindus often lean toward vegetarianism, while other castes and communities are more likely to consume meat. Yet, despite this diversity, vegetarianism dominates public discourse and policy, sidelining the dietary practices of the majority.
The roots of dominance
The symbolic power of vegetarianism in India can be traced back to Brahminical hegemony. Scholars like BR Ambedkar and Gail Omvedt have argued that the caste system, anchored by Brahminical ideology, used dietary restrictions as a tool for social control. In this framework, vegetarianism became associated with purity, spirituality, and higher social status, while non-vegetarian food was stigmatised as impure and unholy. This cultural hierarchy has seeped into public institutions, where vegetarian food is often the default option. Cultural theorist Arjun Appadurai’s concept of “gastro-politics” sheds light on how food becomes a medium of power and identity. In India, vegetarianism’s dominance is sustained through state policies and cultural narratives that privilege it over other dietary practices. For instance, segregated dining spaces for vegetarians and non-vegetarians are common in educational institutions and workplaces. While proponents argue that this respects individual choices, critics see it as a reinforcement of caste-based hierarchies and social exclusion. Sociologist Dipankar Gupta notes that such practices institutionalise prejudices under the guise of accommodation, marginalising communities for whom non-vegetarian food is integral to their identity.
Food as a tool of exclusion
The politics of food extends beyond public spaces into private lives. In urban housing societies and rental accommodations, vegetarianism is often a criterion for tenancy, leading to what some scholars term “food-based apartheid”. These exclusionary practices are normalised, perpetuating systemic discrimination. Periodic bans on meat sales, often tied to religious festivals, further illustrate the intersection of food politics and religion. While justified as a mark of respect for religious sentiments, these bans infringe on the personal rights of those who do not share the same beliefs. They represent a form of majoritarianism, where the preferences of a dominant group are imposed on minorities, undermining democratic principles of choice and equality. The economic impact of such bans is significant. A 2020 report by the Centre for Policy Research estimates that the meat and poultry industry contributes over 1.5 per cent to India’s GDP and provides livelihoods to millions, particularly in rural areas. Meat bans disrupt these livelihoods and worsen socio-economic inequalities, disproportionately affecting marginalised communities.
Beyond the binary
The debate over food preferences often devolves into accusations of intolerance from both sides. Vegetarians frequently frame their position as one of moral superiority or environmental consciousness, citing concerns about animal cruelty and ecological sustainability. However, these narratives can mask casteist and elitist undertones. Philosopher Martha Nussbaum’s concept of “the ethics of coexistence” offers a way forward. She emphasises mutual respect and accommodation in pluralistic societies, urging individuals to recognise and honour the diverse values and practices of others. Applying this principle to India’s food politics requires moving beyond binary debates and fostering a culture of dialogue and inclusivity.
Towards a more inclusive future
Policy interventions could play a crucial role in addressing these tensions. Inclusive menus at public events, education campaigns to challenge stereotypes about non-vegetarian food, and the abolition of segregated dining spaces in institutions could foster interaction and reduce social divisions. Governments should also revisit meat bans to ensure that food-related restrictions are secular, non-discriminatory and rooted in public health considerations. Additionally, policies must protect the livelihoods of marginalised groups involved in the meat and poultry industries. The politics of food in India is a microcosm of broader societal tensions, reflecting the intersections of caste, religion, and power. By fostering a culture of inclusivity and mutual respect, India can move toward a more equitable and harmonious coexistence, where food becomes a bridge rather than a barrier between its diverse communities. Such an approach not only upholds individual rights but also strengthens the fabric of the nation’s democracy. Food should unite, not divide. It’s time India’s food politics reflected this simple truth.
The writer is Professor and Dean, Christ University, Bengaluru