Elite Competition and the Politics of Ethnic Identity

When ethnic movements erupt across the world, it is tempting to explain them as the resurfacing of ancient hatreds or deep cultural divides. But political scientists have offered a more uncomfortable answer. Many ethnic identities become politically charged not because of centuries-old grievances, but because ambitious leaders find it useful to make them so. This is the central insight of the elite competition theory of ethnicity, which argues that ethnic identity and nationalism are products of strategic political behaviour rather than fixed, inherited facts of life.

What elite competition theory actually claims
The role of the centralising state
How elites turn culture into a political weapon
Why this strategy is so effective
Two levels of competition: within and between groups
Inter-group competition
Intra-group competition
The Dravidian movement: a textbook case
From a club of elites to a mass movement
Modernisation, jobs, and the “sons of the soil”
The deeper logic of “sons of the soil” conflicts
Why this theory matters
The framework today

What elite competition theory actually claims

The most influential statement of this idea comes from the political scientist Paul R. Brass. In his work Ethnicity and Nationalism: Theory and Comparison, Brass builds his entire argument on two claims. First, ethnicity and nationalism are not “givens” but are social and political constructions. Second, they are modern phenomena, tied closely to the activities of the modern centralising state.

This is a sharp break from primordialism, the older view that ethnic groups are natural, bounded communities defined by blood, language, and tradition. Brass argues instead that ethnic solidarity is something that has to be produced. And the people who produce it are elites: political leaders, intellectuals, religious figures, and professionals who have something to gain from organising people along ethnic lines.

The role of the centralising state

A key part of the theory is that ethnic mobilisation does not happen in a vacuum. According to Brass, ethnicity and nationalism emerge from interactions between the leadership of centralising states and the elites of non-dominant ethnic groups, especially those located on the peripheries of the state. When a central government expands its reach, standardises a national language, controls the distribution of jobs, or imposes a uniform administrative culture, it creates winners and losers.

Elites who feel marginalised by this process have a powerful incentive to push back. They do so by activating an ethnic identity that allows them to claim resources, autonomy, or recognition. In this sense, the state is not a neutral referee. Its centralising policies are often the trigger that turns a dormant cultural identity into an active political force.

How elites turn culture into a political weapon

The mechanics of elite competition are surprisingly practical. Elites do not invent identities out of thin air. Instead, they draw on real cultural materials, language, religion, dress, history, festivals, and give them new political meaning. The instrumentalist tradition, closely associated with Brass, describes this clearly: elites and counter-elites within a group select aspects of a group’s culture, attach new value to them, and use them as symbols to mobilise the community and compete with rival groups.

This selection process matters. A language that was once just a medium of everyday speech can become a sacred marker of identity. A religious practice can be reframed as the defining feature of a whole community. The elites who lead this transformation gain followers, votes, and bargaining power. The community, in turn, is told that its survival depends on rallying behind these symbols.

Why this strategy is so effective

Ethnic appeals work because they tap into emotion and a sense of belonging that ordinary class-based or economic appeals often lack. A politician who promises better roads competes on performance. A politician who claims to be the sole guardian of a community’s identity competes on loyalty, which is far harder for rivals to challenge. Scholars studying ethnic conflict have noted that manipulation of ethnic identity, fear, and hatred is among the most crucial processes driving ethnic politics. This is why even minor disputes can escalate quickly once elites frame them in ethnic terms.

Two levels of competition: within and between groups

One of the most useful features of the theory is that it identifies competition operating at two levels at once.

Inter-group competition

The more visible level is competition between ethnic groups. Here, elites mobilise their communities to compete for scarce resources such as government jobs, educational seats, political offices, and control over territory. Competition theory in sociology, developed by scholars like Susan Olzak, argues that ethnic conflict relates directly to intergroup struggles over scarce resources. When two groups begin to compete in the same labour markets or political arenas, ethnic boundaries sharpen and conflict becomes more likely.

Intra-group competition

The less obvious but equally important level is competition within a group. Brass emphasises that ethnic identity is also shaped by an internal struggle among elites for the right to speak for the community. Reviewers of his work note that intergroup relations have a dual dimension, combining external competition with rival groups and an internal struggle for control of the group itself. This produces a phenomenon known as ethnic outbidding, where leaders compete to appear the most authentic and militant defenders of the community. Each tries to out-promise the other, which can push the whole movement toward more extreme positions over time.

The Dravidian movement: a textbook case

The Dravidian movement in Tamil Nadu shows elite competition in action with remarkable clarity. In the early twentieth century, Brahmins formed a tiny fraction of the population of the Madras Presidency yet dominated education, the professions, and government service. By the 1910s, this imbalance had become glaring: at one point, eight of nine official council members were Brahmins, despite Brahmins making up only a small share of the population.

This was fertile ground for elite competition. A rising class of educated non-Brahmin professionals found their path to advancement blocked. In response, they formed the Justice Party in the late 1910s to demand political representation and government employment for non-Brahmins. Crucially, they did not frame this as a narrow grievance of one professional class. They reframed it as a struggle of an entire Dravidian people against an alien, north-Indian Brahminical order.

From a club of elites to a mass movement

The early Justice Party had a weakness common to elite-led movements: it was a party of urban, educated professionals with little grassroots base. The mass mobilisation came later, through E.V. Ramasamy Periyar’s Self-Respect Movement, which began around the mid-1920s and attacked caste hierarchy and Brahminical dominance head-on. This movement eventually fed into the Dravidar Kazhagam and then the DMK, founded in 1949, which translated Dravidian ideology into electoral power.

What followed is a perfect illustration of intra-group competition. The DMK later split, producing the AIADMK, and the two parties have alternated in power in Tamil Nadu ever since. Their rivalry is, at its core, an ideological contest over who is the true guardian of Dravidian ideals of social justice, state autonomy, and linguistic pride. The ethnic identity stayed constant; the elites competed fiercely over who could claim to represent it best.

Modernisation, jobs, and the “sons of the soil”

Elite competition theory becomes especially powerful when combined with the pressures of modernisation. As economies develop and education spreads, more groups begin competing for the same modern resources: white-collar jobs, civil service posts, and university seats. This is precisely when previously stable ethnic relations can turn conflictual.

The Assam movement is a striking example. In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, a migrant Bengali middle class came to dominate government service in Assam, emerging as a direct competitor to the Assamese middle class for jobs and professions. Assamese cultural and political elites responded by mobilising around language and identity, pressing for Assamese to be made the official language and for preference to be given to locals in employment. The state government eventually made Assamese the official language and adopted a policy of giving preference to “Sons of the Soil” in state employment.

The deeper logic of “sons of the soil” conflicts

The “sons of the soil” framework appears across India, from Assam to Maharashtra, and it follows the same competitive logic. These conflicts typically involve disputes between indigenous populations and migrants over resources such as jobs and land, where economic competition is heightened by migration. Local elites step forward as protectors of the native community, defining who belongs and who is an outsider. The identity being defended feels ancient, but the conflict itself is driven by very modern competition over a finite pool of opportunities.

Why this theory matters

Elite competition theory offers something valuable: it shifts our attention from culture to interests. Instead of asking “why do these groups hate each other,” it asks “who benefits from organising people this way, and what are they competing for.” This reframing has practical implications.

It suggests that ethnic conflict is not inevitable. If ethnic mobilisation is produced by specific conditions, namely competition over resources and the actions of a centralising state, then changing those conditions can reduce conflict. Brass himself argued for negotiation, accommodation, and decentralising overly centralised states as ways to manage these tensions.

At the same time, the theory has limits. Critics point out that it can underplay genuine grievance and the real depth of cultural attachment. People are not simply puppets of cunning elites; identity often matters to them for its own sake. The most balanced reading is that elites do not create identity from nothing, but they do amplify, channel, and politicise it for competitive advantage. The raw material is real; the political shape it takes is constructed.

The framework today

The relevance of this lens has not faded. The strength of regional parties across Indian states, the periodic demands for reservations and quotas, and the resurgence of ethnic nationalism in parts of Europe all reflect the same underlying dynamics. Wherever a centralising authority distributes resources and elites compete to lead communities, the politics of ethnic identity is likely to follow.

What do you think? If ethnic identities are partly constructed by competing elites, does that make ethnic grievances any less real or legitimate for the people who feel them? And in a diverse country, can a state ever distribute jobs, language rights, and political power in a way that does not end up rewarding ethnic mobilisation?

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Table of Contents

What elite competition theory actually claims 🔗

The role of the centralising state 🔗

How elites turn culture into a political weapon 🔗

Why this strategy is so effective 🔗

Two levels of competition: within and between groups 🔗

Inter-group competition 🔗

Intra-group competition 🔗

The Dravidian movement: a textbook case 🔗

From a club of elites to a mass movement 🔗

Modernisation, jobs, and the “sons of the soil” 🔗

The deeper logic of “sons of the soil” conflicts 🔗

Why this theory matters 🔗

The framework today 🔗