Ethics on Film: Discussion of "Origin"

Speaking about “caste” is exceedingly difficult, especially in the United States. Americans know how to talk about race, class, or status, albeit most of the time uncomfortably. But caste, more than any of these other forms of classification, is at complete odds with the “American dream” that anyone can be rich, famous, powerful, and accepted by all if you work hard enough. Caste is fixed and unchangeable, according to most definitions—it’s “a system of social stratification” that an individual is born into and can inform almost every aspect of one’s life. And some may argue that Americans have fought two wars—one civil—and have made amendments and laws to eradicate any semblance of it in their country.

So, even though it doesn’t shy away from the subject matter, it is telling that Ava DuVernay’s 2023 film based on Isabel Wilkerson’s best-selling nonfiction book Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents is named after a different, less controversial part of the title: Origin. The film also did not get a wide release nor funding from traditional Hollywood sources and exists in its own genre, somewhere between documentary, biopic, and after-school special. The overall impression, before the film even starts, is that America is not ready to have this discussion.

A Complicated Adaptation

In contrast to the book, which is very much a non-fiction lesson on how caste came to be and where it is today, there is a plot, though thin, in Origin. We follow Wilkerson (played wonderfully by Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor) as she writes her book in the wake of the Trayvon Martin shooting, while navigating through personal tragedy (with her mother, husband, and cousin dying in quick succession), endless work on a beautifully dilapidated old house (inherited from her mother and probably a metaphor for America), and relatively newfound fame (the story begins in the wake of the universal acclaim of her first book The Warmth of Other Suns, which traces the African-American migration from the South to the North throughout the 20th century).

At certain points, though, this narrative gives way to a more documentary feel. Wilkerson travels to Germany and India to research how caste has been experienced in these nations. In India, non-actors describe the struggles of being a Dalit (formerly called “untouchables”) and Wilkerson learns about B. R. Ambedkar, who, despite being a member of the lowest caste, led the commission that drafted the Indian Constitution after independence in 1947 and is presented in this film through historical reenactments. In Germany, she does archival research on the connections between the Nazi Party and the Jim Crow South, leading to montages and reenactments of scenes from the 1930s and ‘40s. And back in the United States, in an especially touching scene, an elderly white man—also not an actor—describes a traumatic day from his childhood where he saw just how brutal the American caste system could be.

The lasting impression of this film is one of a cascade of feelings, more than a story that the viewer can go back to. The only character we really get to know is Wilkerson, as her family members, editors, friends, and the scholars she meets overseas are simply foils as she learns the truth about worldwide oppression. A heartbreaking montage towards the end brings this all together, as fictionalized scenes from the Holocaust and the Middle Passage, sit next to real footage of the daily horrors of the Dalits, and a fictionalized Trayvon Martin.

What is Caste?

Early in Origin, Wilkerson says, with the Trayvon Martin shooting in mind: “Racism as the primary language to understand everything is insufficient.” As she sees it, the media glossed over the fact that a Black teenager was killed by a Hispanic man in their effort to simplify this case down to its racist essence. What if, instead, Martin was the victim of an unspoken caste system, Wilkerson posits? Even though Martin himself was middle class and was walking through an affluent neighborhood, he and all Black people in America still carry the legacy of centuries of subjugation. And even though a brown man like Zimmerman may face forms of discrimination and racism in his life, as he is “below” the white man, he’ll always be “above” Martin in the American caste system, as the color of his skin does not correlate to ancestors in bondage in the United States. In his mind and the minds of many Americans, this subconsciously justified, or even excused, the violence.

Wilkerson admits that this a complicated point to make, and there are scenes where she is shown working hard to convince family members, friends, and colleagues that caste is at the center of most stories of oppression. At a barbecue, she tells her cousin (played by Niecy Nash) her theory on how caste originated, with the Brits and Americans borrowing from the millennia-old South Asian traditions: “They knew we weren’t inferior,” she says of slavers’ views of Africans hundreds of years ago. “They magnified the myths, they codified them, set them in stone, in systems, in our laws, in our healthcare, how we lived.” And that continues to this day.

The book, as to be expected, expands on this point as Wilkerson analyzes all aspects of the caste system and continually draws parallels from America’s present and near past to India and Nazi Germany. She brings her theories right up to her experiences as a Black woman in the United States, albeit one who is moderately famous and, by most standards, rich or “upper-class.” For Wilkerson, this caste system even extends to the first-class cabins of airplanes, as she describes multiple uncomfortable episodes in which she, a Black woman at the bottom of America’s racial hierarchy, as she tells it, is repeatedly slighted by higher-caste, mostly white flight attendants and fellow passengers.

A Necessary, but Flawed Argument

Wilkerson has had some tough reviews of her book; the most strident being for her oversimplification of the history of caste in South Asia and the nature of Nazi Germany, and an unwillingness to truly discuss how class and money may change some of these equations, especially in the United States. These criticisms do ring true, but in some ways, the omissions allow Wilkerson to make Caste a surprisingly uncomplicated book to read, despite its complex and emotionally heavy subject matter. While this is certainly a testament to Wilkerson’s literary talents and ability to relate her academic arguments to a more general audience, maybe something like caste should not be simplified in this way.

Similarly, Origin, in its attempt to tell a story and teach a history and civics lesson—perhaps its attempt to mimic the ease in which Wilkerson is able to write about these complicated subjects— at times moves too quickly. Looked at as a biopic, large parts of Wilkerson’s story are left unexamined, most notably her “cross-caste” marriage to a white man (played by Jon Bernthal). Aside from one scene with a joke about white privilege, we don’t learn how society or their families perceived their relationship or what challenges they faced.

In the documentary sections, the viewer jumps from scenes featuring Ambedkar and modern-day Dalits, to the fascinating story of African American anthropologists Allison and Elizabeth Davis, to reenactments of the Nazis coming up with their anti-Jewish legislation—the overall sense is that you learn a little about many things, but many questions remain at the end. Other than financial constraints, it’s hard to imagine a reason why this wasn’t conceived of as a TV series.

The book and film both end with the line, “A world without caste would set everyone free.” It’s wonderful to end on such a hopeful note but based on the previous 388 pages/141 minutes, it’s simply impossible to imagine—we’ve been convinced that caste is entrenched in most, if not all, societies. Perhaps a sequel to both could expand on what this caste-less world would look like and how to realistically get there. For now, Origin and Caste are both worthwhile starting points for many more necessary and challenging discussions.

Discussion Questions

1. Is it appropriate or helpful to speak about “caste” in the context of the United States? Why or why not?
2. Does “caste” exist in the United States?
3. What are some similarities and differences between the “caste systems” of India, Nazi Germany, and the United States?
4. Other than India, Germany, and the U.S., what are some other societies—past or present—where caste plays a major role?
5. What are some connections between caste, race, and class?
6. Can the U.S and other nations move beyond caste? What can individuals do?
7. Do you agree with the closing line: “A world without caste would set everyone free”?

Works Cited

"Ava DuVernay’s Love of Background Actors Paid Off in ‘Origin’," Chris O'Falt, Filmmaker Toolkit Podcast, IndieWire, January 18, 2024

"Ava Duvernay’s New Film Origin Reaches Beyond the Theater," Next Question with Katie Couric, January 4, 2024

"Caste," Wikipedia, last updated July 5, 2024

"Caste Does Not Explain Race," Charisse Burden-Stelly, Boston Review, December 15, 2020

Caste: The Origin of Our Discontents, Isabel Wilkerson, Penguin/Random House, 2023

"Comparing Race to Caste Is an Interesting Idea, But There Are Crucial Differences Between Both," Arjun Appadurai, The Wire, September 12, 2020

"‘Origin’: Ava DuVernay’s latest film is ambitious, and one of a kind," Anne Hornaday, The Washington Post, January 17, 2024

"'Origin' Is Barely A Movie," Candice Frederick, HuffPost, January 22, 2024

"‘Origin’ Review: Ava DuVernay’s Biopic of a Book," Kyle Smith, The Wall Street Journal, January 18, 2024

"What Caste Leaves Out," Hari Ramesh, Dissent, Winter 2021

Carnegie Council for Ethics in International Affairs is an independent and nonpartisan nonprofit. The views expressed within this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of Carnegie Council.