Irawati Karve: India's trailblazing female anthropologist who challenged Nazi race theories

Irawati Karve’s life was markedly different from those around her. Born in British-ruled India, at a time when women's rights and freedoms were severely restricted, Karve did the incredible: she went abroad to study, became a university professor, and was the first female anthropologist in India.

She also chose her own husband, swam in a swimsuit, rode a motorcycle, and even dared to challenge the racist assumptions of her doctoral advisor, the renowned German anthropologist Eugen Fischer. Her writings on Indian culture, civilization, and its caste system were groundbreaking and incorporated into university curricula in India. Yet, she remains a largely unknown figure in history, and many aspects of her life remain untold.

A new book titled "Iru: The Extraordinary Life of Irawati Karve," written by her granddaughter, Uma Deshpande, and scholar Thiago Pinto Barbosa, sheds light on her remarkable life and the many difficulties she overcame to forge an inspiring path for women and men who followed. Irawati was born in 1905 in Burma (now Myanmar), and her name was derived from the Irrawaddy River. As the only girl among six siblings, she was cherished by her family and grew up in comfortable surroundings.

However, the young girl’s life took unexpected turns, experiences that shaped her character. Alongside strong women, Irawati’s life also intersected with compassionate, progressive men who paved the way for her to break barriers and cheered her on as she did so. At the age of seven, Irawati was sent to a boarding school in Pune — a rare opportunity given by her father at a time when most girls were forced into marriage. In Pune, she met the renowned educator R.P. Paranjpye, whose family informally adopted Irawati and raised her as one of their own.

In the Paranjpye household, Irawati was exposed to a life that valued critical thinking and living justly, even if it meant going against the grain of traditional Indian society. Paranjpye, whom Irawati affectionately called “Appa” or her “second father,” was a man far ahead of his time. As the principal of a university and a staunch supporter of women’s education, he was also an atheist. Through him, Irawati discovered social sciences and their immense impact on society.

When Irawati decided to pursue a doctorate in anthropology in Berlin, she was supported by Paranjpye and her husband, Dinkar Karve, a professor of science, despite her biological father’s opposition. In 1927, she arrived in the German city after days of sailing and began working toward her degree under the tutelage of Fischer, a renowned professor of anthropology and eugenics. At the time, Germany was still recovering from the effects of World War I, and Hitler had not yet risen to power. But the specter of antisemitism was already beginning to rise. One day, Irawati discovered that a Jewish student in her building had been murdered, witnessing this hatred firsthand.

In the book, the authors describe the fear, shock, and revulsion Irawati felt when she saw the man’s body lying by the side of the road outside her building, blood seeping into the cement. While processing these emotions, Irawati was also working on the thesis assigned to her by Fischer: to prove that white Europeans were more logical and rational — and therefore racially superior to non-white Europeans. This involved carefully examining and measuring 149 human skulls.

Fischer hypothesized that white European skulls were asymmetrical to accommodate a larger right frontal lobe, supposedly a sign of higher intelligence. However, Irawati’s research found no correlation between race and skull asymmetry. “She refuted Fischer’s hypothesis, and by extension, the institute’s theories and the mainstream theories of the time,” the authors write in the book. She boldly presented her findings, risking the ire of her advisor and the possibility of not obtaining her degree. Fischer gave her the lowest possible grade, but her research critically and scientifically refuted the idea of using human differences to justify discrimination. (Later, the Nazis would use Fischer's theories of racial superiority to advance their agenda, and Fischer would join the Nazi party.)

Throughout her life, Irawati displayed this kind of courage and boundless compassion, particularly towards the women she encountered. In an era when travel for women was unimaginable, Irawati, after returning to India, frequently went on field expeditions to remote villages in India with her male colleagues, sometimes with her students, and even with her children, to study the lives of various tribal peoples. She participated in archaeological expeditions to unearth 15,000-year-old skeletons, connecting the past and present. These arduous journeys took her deep into forests and over rugged terrain for weeks or months at a time, where the book describes her sleeping in barns or truck beds, often going days without food.

Irawati also bravely confronted social and personal prejudices as she interacted with people from all walks of life. The authors describe how Irawati, a Chitpavan Brahmin from a traditionally vegetarian, high-caste Hindu community, bravely ate half-cooked meat offered to her by a tribal chief she wanted to study. She recognized it as a symbol of friendship and a test of loyalty, and responded with openness and curiosity.

Her research fostered a deep empathy for humanity, which later led her to criticize fundamentalism in various religions, including Hinduism. She believed that India belonged to all who called it home. The book recounts a moment when, as Irawati reflected on the horrors the Nazis had inflicted on Jewish people, her thoughts drifted to a startling realization that would forever change her perception of humanity. “In these reflections, Irawati learned the hardest lesson from Hindu philosophy: everything is you, and you are everything,” the authors write.

Irawati passed away in 1970, but her legacy lives on through her work and the people it continues to inspire.