Since school textbooks are often designed by those who represent the interests and ideology of the ruling classes, the contributions and thoughts of Dr. B. R. Ambedkar were either ignored or merely mentioned in passing by official writers. As far as I can recall, during my school days, our teachers frequently referred to Gandhi, Nehru, and Subhash Chandra Bose in their lectures. However, the name of Dr. Ambedkar—the messiah of the downtrodden—was hardly ever mentioned.
Surprisingly, I vividly remember that the story of Nathuram Godse, the assassin of Gandhi, was narrated to us by a Brahmin teacher in my village. What struck me even more was the tone of his narration—it seemed to express a subtle sympathy for the killer of Bapu. Yet, that same teacher never took the time to tell us who Babasaheb Ambedkar was.
The entry of Dr. Ambedkar into my life came quite late. I cannot say exactly when I first heard his name, but my real engagement with his work began when I enrolled in a postgraduate programme in Political Science in Delhi.
Traditional Political Science syllabi gave very little space to Ambedkar’s ideas, although they readily imposed the political thoughts of Manu and Kautilya—both of whom were staunch upholders of the caste-based social order—on students. If someone wants to pursue research on Manu, they are free to do so. But I am still unable to understand the rationale behind compelling every student to study Manu at the undergraduate or postgraduate level in a course on Indian political thought.
It may be understandable that M. S. Golwalkar, one of the key ideologues of the Hindutva ideology, praised Manu as “Lord (Bhagwan)” and called him as “the greatest lawgiver of mankind.” However, the disproportionate space assigned to Manu in political science textbooks raises serious questions about the fragility of the secular character of India’s educational system. That Ambedkar—one of the staunchest critics of the caste-based social order and a vocal opponent of “Hindu Raj”—has remained neglected in the mainstream educational system and media should not come as a surprise to many.
My stay at Delhi’s two universities over a span of 11 years—two years at Jamia Millia Islamia and nine years at Jawaharlal Nehru University—brought me significantly closer to the thoughts and legacy of Babasaheb Ambedkar. In the classroom, our professors did make references to Ambedkar’s ideas, but I found myself unsatisfied with the way they interpreted and explained his work. I noticed that they had a vested interest in highlighting only certain aspects of Ambedkar while concealing others. The professors soon lost their influence over us when many of us realized that their discussions of Ambedkar inside the classroom and their actions outside were quite disconnected. For them, teaching Ambedkar, writing about him, publishing books, and getting projects in his name seemed more like career-building strategies. For many of us, however, Ambedkar was a ray of light—an inspiration to escape the darkness of an unequal social order. I began to look beyond the classroom and found that engaging with Ambedkarite activist-scholars at the university and those actively involved in Ambedkarite movements was far more fruitful than simply taking notes from careerist professors.
Since Ambedkar wrote in lucid prose, he was not particularly difficult to understand. Unlike many other politicians, he never neglected the importance of scholarship. He read, researched, and wrote until his last breath. The focus of his scholarship was not on fairy tales, nor was he interested in metaphysical or divine questions. As an organic intellectual, he wrote about the problems faced by the most marginalized sections of society—people whom the caste-based system did not even consider human, let alone treat as equals. Ambedkar’s writings, spread across thousands of pages, continue to serve as a torchlight for marginalized communities. Those who uphold the status quo are trying hard to appropriate Ambedkar, but they cannot bury the power and truth of his dozens of volumes of writings.
But unlike armchair scholars confined to the ivory towers of the establishment, Ambedkar believed that the process of thinking is intrinsically linked to action. In contrast to the so-called “objective” scholarship of the mainstream, his writings had a clear purpose and stood firmly with the downtrodden. He recognized that the cloak of “objectivity” and “neutrality” often serves to maintain the status quo and reinforces existing hegemonies. That is why he not only wrote but also acted. He agitated, and he penned. In Ambedkar’s philosophy, the process of thought and action-oriented programmes are inseparable. He was truly a “concerned” scholar and an organic politician.
In my understanding, Ambedkar belongs to the tradition of materialist-rationalist thoughts shaped by Buddhism, Kabir, and Jyotirao Phule. Consequently, he was deeply critical of metaphysical, idealist, Vedantic, and Brahminical frameworks for interpreting the world. Unlike Brahminical thinkers, Ambedkar did not shy away from confronting material reality. Nor did he resort to explaining concrete problems through metaphysical abstractions or the construction of myths. In contrast to the Brahminical scholarly tradition, he categorically rejected the notion of divinity and the role of supernatural beings.
Although he acknowledged the social significance of religion, his conception of it was radically different—his vision of religion excluded the presence of God. For Ambedkar, religion was not about ritual performance or appeasing a higher power; rather, it was a social space where marginalized communities could assert their dignity and forge collective solidarity.
In essence, Ambedkar deconstructed Brahminical myths and laid the groundwork for a new social order rooted in the ideals of equality, liberty, and fraternity. Throughout his life, he remained deeply uneasy with the idea of human beings surrendering—whether to divine forces or to fellow humans. For him, both the worship of gods and the veneration of heroic figures were equally unacceptable.
Ambedkar was a staunch advocate of equality in the political, social, and economic domains. Continuing the legacy of Buddha, Kabir, and Phule, he offered a scathing critique of the caste-based social order. As an iconoclast, he denounced the religion into which he was born and criticized the Hindu social order and its religious texts for perpetuating caste-based discrimination.
Since most of us are raised within a Brahminical social milieu, we are trained from childhood to perceive the caste hierarchy as “natural” and the prevailing social system as one that fosters “harmony” and “equilibrium.” From structural-functionalist scholars to most upper-caste leaders and intellectuals, there has long been a tendency to normalize and defend the caste order. However, the emergence of Dr. Ambedkar on the broader political stage began to challenge this entrenched narrative. His powerful call for the annihilation of the caste system resonated with millions who had long been treated as pariahs by the upper castes.
Ambedkar’s enduring contribution lies in his ability, much like a skilled doctor, to diagnose the deep-seated stagnation of Indian society. He prescribed a clear remedy: without the annihilation of caste, the achievement of political, social, and economic equality, and justice for women and minorities, the nation cannot truly progress.
While it is true that the mainstream Indian Left—whose leadership has largely been dominated by Brahmins and other upper castes—ignored Dr. Ambedkar and excluded Dalit leadership until the Ambedkarite movement brought him into public consciousness, this should not be used to validate the Hindutva narrative that portrays Ambedkar as an “enemy” of Marxism or socialism. Marxism and socialism are not monolithic ideologies; they are interpreted and shaped by prevailing parties or dominant leaders, and thus, no single definition is universally accepted. What matters is that Ambedkar engaged with Marxism on his own terms, expressing both agreement and disagreement with its dominant interpretations during his time.
Given that Marxism is a materialist philosophy that advocates for the removal of class-based inequality and the establishment of material equality, Ambedkar’s own work resonates strongly with Marxist principles. His efforts to organize the working class, his emphasis on eradicating economic inequality, and his commitment to a materialist, scientific, and rational worldview align him closely with Marxist ideals and practice.
However, Dr. Ambedkar differed from the dominant Marxist interpretation on the questions of class, the dictatorship of the proletariat, and the use of violence. Unlike mainstream Marxist thinkers, Ambedkar’s understanding of class emphasized the social identities of labourers and rejected the notion of the working class as a homogenous entity. His key contribution lay in highlighting the lack of solidarity among workers, despite their shared exploitation.
While Marxists called for unity among labourers, Ambedkar insisted that unity could not be achieved without first addressing the internal divisions created by caste. Upper-caste comrades were often eager to bring about revolution, overlooking the fundamental reality that caste—structured around graded inequality—stood in the way of genuine worker solidarity. Ambedkar argued that caste must first be annihilated to lay the foundation for a truly classless society. This view diverged sharply from that of upper-caste Marxists, who often saw the caste question as a distraction or even a threat to working-class unity. The mainstream Left’s continued failure to enact meaningful social transformation should prompt a serious re-examination of Ambedkar’s nuanced perspective on class and caste.
No doubt Ambedkar was a great scholar, a brilliant lawyer, and an influential Parliamentarian. The construction of his image as a legal scholar holding the Constitution of India has created the impression that Ambedkar only believed in legal and constitutional methods, and therefore, had no ideological connection with Marxists, who are often associated with violent means. To support such a claim, Ambedkar’s famous speech titled “Buddha or Karl Marx” is frequently cited.
It is true that Ambedkar acknowledged that both Buddhism and Marxism opposed private property. However, according to him, Buddhism diverged from Marxism on the question of violence. Ambedkar emphasized that Buddhism, unlike Marxism, rejected violence. That said, his critique of Marxism in this regard must be situated within the historical context of his time. It is a matter of historical record that some communist leaders, backed by the brute force of the state, resorted to violence in their attempt to establish a “class-less” society.
Supporters of such violent methods might argue that radical social change and reordering of class relations cannot be accomplished through purely constitutional and legal means, and that violence by the oppressed is not a violation but an act of liberation. While Ambedkar may have agreed with the goal of achieving a class-less society, he preferred to pursue a different strategy—one that did not involve violence. This belief was deeply held and unwavering, despite criticism from the Left, who at times dismissed Ambedkar as “at best a radical bourgeois leader.”
Ambedkar and his critics held different perspectives on these issues. However, the failures of various communist regimes—though not of Marxism as a philosophy—have led even some of his critics to reconsider his principled critique of violence. Importantly, Ambedkar’s rejection of violence does not imply a lack of belief in peaceful yet radical movements. His famous call to “educate, organise, and agitate” reflects a commitment to constitutional and legal methods, but not a confinement to them.
Consider the historic Mahad Conference of 1927, where Ambedkar led thousands of untouchables to assert their right to access a public tank that had been denied to them by caste-based restrictions. During this agitation, upper-caste aggressors attacked Ambedkar and his followers, yet he stood his ground. His editorials in Bahishkrit Bharat are a testament to his unwavering message urging Dalits not to accept caste discrimination and to rise in rebellion. In one editorial dated May 20, 1927, Ambedkar clearly stated that no one would grant Dalits their rights out of charity—they had to be prepared to fight for them. Is this not strong evidence that Ambedkar was far more than merely a legal scholar? His call to struggle against discrimination and exploitation, and his insistence on securing a life of dignity, align him with mass movements—and place him ideologically close to the Left.
However, one of my biggest attractions to Babasaheb Ambedkar is his theory of minority rights, which is inherently linked to the broader concept of social justice. In light of the rise of right-wing forces in India and elsewhere, Ambedkar’s ideas have become even more relevant today. As previously mentioned, Ambedkar was a staunch opponent of any dictatorial or authoritarian regime. He understood well that the suppression of liberty is often justified in the name of lofty goals, and he consistently cautioned marginalized communities not to fall prey to such narratives.
With the advent of democracy and the introduction of universal suffrage, Ambedkar recognized the transformative potential of the right to vote for bringing about social change. However, he did not believe that formal political equality alone was sufficient to ensure justice and equality in society. He argued that social reform, economic equality, and robust safeguards for minority rights were essential complements to political democracy. In other words, while equal voting rights represent a significant achievement, they are only truly effective when accompanied by social and economic justice, along with institutional protections for minorities.
Ambedkar frequently cautioned that democracy as an institution can only survive when social and economic equality is achieved. While he did not believe in using violent methods to bring about radical change, he also disagreed with liberals who believed that formal equality and a market-driven economic order would eventually lead to a just society. In various writings and speeches, Ambedkar highlighted the threat that class-based inequality poses to the sustainability of democracy.
Today, economic inequality in India has increased significantly compared to Ambedkar’s time. The ongoing crisis of Indian democracy and rising societal instability can largely be attributed to this widening economic gap. If Ambedkar were alive today, his foremost agenda would likely include launching mass movements for full employment, equitable access to quality public education, and comprehensive healthcare for all. He would also have been at the forefront of resisting reactionary and conservative forces that disguise themselves as nationalist. He would have strongly opposed the conflation of religion and politics, and any attempts to align the Indian state with the majority religion. No one denounced Hindu nationalism as forcefully as Ambedkar, who called it “the greatest calamity for this country.” Undoubtedly, he would have aligned himself with the Left.
Ambedkar’s democratic theory and his idea of social justice are closely linked with his concept of minority rights. He opposed authoritarianism and dictatorial regimes because he believed that one person, one party, one caste group, or one class cannot be entrusted with safeguarding the interests of all. He was acutely aware of the fact that ruling castes often attempt to serve their own interests under the guise of “nationalism,” dismissing the legitimate concerns of marginalised communities as “communalism.”
Perhaps he was among the first to expose the trope of nationalism versus communalism as a tool to silence the voices of the oppressed. His critique of nationalism does not imply support for communal politics. Rather, Ambedkar demonstrated how the category of nationalism has been co-opted by sections of the upper castes to present their own interests as “national interests”, while branding those who question this dominance as “communal.”
Ambedkar has also been unfairly accused of being a supporter of British imperialism. However, the historical reality is that he was not against India’s freedom. While the upper castes considered the mere transfer of power from British rulers to Indian elites as the attainment of Swaraj, Ambedkar pressed nationalist leaders to explicitly define the rights and safeguards that minorities would receive in post-Independence India. These upper-caste leaders often appeared “radical” in their political critique of British rule but remained deeply conservative and status quoist when issues concerning Dalits, Adivasis, lower castes, and religious minorities were raised.
Ambedkar’s critique of Indian nationalism stemmed from a commitment to social justice. Throughout the freedom struggle, he consistently raised the issue of caste-based inequality and worked to amplify the voices of the marginalised. He firmly believed that caste-based social order was a significant obstacle to fostering fraternity among Indians. Without addressing the caste question, he argued, the process of nation-building could not be complete.
In contrast, upper-caste leaders and their allies in the Hindutva camp often promoted an ascriptive theory of nationalism, asserting that the idea of the Indian nation has existed for thousands of years. In tracing the nation back to ancient times, Hindu right-wing ideologues positioned the Hindu community as the authentic nation and cast minorities and non-Hindus as outsiders. Since the minorities were not considered fully part of the Hindu nation, their patriotism was constantly questioned. As a display of loyalty, the Hindu right demanded that minorities abandon their distinct identities and assimilate into the dominant culture in order to receive validation as true patriots. Ambedkar was acutely aware of the dangers posed by religious and communal interpretations of nationalism and citizenship. That is why, he opposed strongly communal majority. That is why he strongly opposed attempts by upper-caste Hindus to forge a communal majority.
For Ambedkar, the antidote to the politics of communal majoritarianism—which posed a serious threat during his time and continues to endanger India’s social fabric—was the establishment of mechanisms to check authoritarian tendencies and institutionalize safeguards for minorities. One of the greatest threats to democracy, in his view, was the concentration of power. In other words, Ambedkar was a strong opponent of absolute power and an ardent advocate of power-sharing among communities.
As a true democrat, Ambedkar was disheartened by the suppression of opposition voices during Nehru’s regime. While numerous books celebrate Nehru’s democratic credentials and openness to dissent, little attention is paid to the fact that he dismissed the first democratically elected communist government in Kerala, played a key role in the centralization of power, and presided over a Parliament that lacked an official Leader of the Opposition until 1967—during the peak of the Congress system. Ambedkar himself noted that he was not granted his ministry of choice in Nehru’s cabinet, even as some ministers were assigned multiple portfolios. Today, under BJP rule, the marginalization of opposition voices and the stifling of dissent has intensified manifold. That is why Ambedkar’s unwavering commitment to defending dissent and opposition remains profoundly relevant in today’s political climate. Ambedkar’s critique of hero-worship also offers a powerful lens through which to understand the rise of populist right-wing leaders. We still await a critical analysis of Narendra Modi’s rise through the lens of Ambedkar’s political thought.
Ambedkar was deeply pained to witness the Congress Party using its own Dalit leaders to silence him whenever he raised his voice. Today, the BJP has perfected the art of delegitimizing authentic Dalit leadership by grooming its own representatives through the ideological apparatus of the Hindutva laboratory. Consequently, while Dalits are now nearly proportionally represented in legislative bodies, most of these leaders—elected through joint electorates and reliant on their party’s backing—tend to remain silent or toe the party line on critical issues affecting their communities.
It is important to remember that Ambedkar strongly demanded a separate electorate for the Depressed Classes during the Round Table Conference, a demand that the British Government ultimately granted. However, he was compelled to give it up following Gandhi’s fast. He observed that authentic Dalit voices often struggle to garner support from both mainstream political parties and caste Hindu voters, resulting in their continued marginalization.
It is unfortunate that most mainstream scholars of India’s electoral system rarely acknowledge the structural inequality inherent in the first-past-the-post system. There is little advocacy for proportionate and effective minority representation, a demand that Dr. Ambedkar passionately championed. While many European countries have embraced proportional representation for minorities, Indian intellectuals often take pride in pointing out the shortcomings of other nations rather than engaging in introspection and learning from successful democratic models to advocate for reform at home.
While Ambedkar contributed significantly to the shaping of democracy, the safeguards for the interests and rights of minorities were especially close to his heart. It is important to note that the term minority, for Ambedkar, was not confined to religious minorities alone. He defined minorities broadly to include socially discriminated groups. According to Ambedkar, the category of minority applies not only to religious communities such as Muslims, Christians, Sikhs, Buddhists, Jains, and Parsis, but also to Dalits and Adivasis.
Several political scientists have later classified minorities into types such as religious, linguistic, caste-based, and tribal (Adivasi) minorities. Ambedkar believed that the true measure of a successful democracy lies in how well it protects the interests and rights of its minorities. He was acutely aware that, in a democratic polity, governments are formed based on majority support—meaning that minorities are often excluded from power. To address this structural inequality, Ambedkar warned against the creation of a communal majority.
Today, the danger Babasaheb foresaw has become increasingly apparent. The deliberate strategy of stoking communal tensions and demonizing the Muslim minority as the “other” in Indian society is designed to unite the majority community through a shared religious identity and thereby forge a communal majority. From Ambedkar’s perspective, the formation of a communal majority is anathema to democracy, as it inevitably leads to the suppression of minority rights.
Keeping in view these dangers, Ambedkar clearly stated that a government formed through majority rule should not be regarded as holy or sacrosanct. Speaking at the Annual Session of the All-India Scheduled Castes Federation held in Bombay on May 6, 1945, Ambedkar said, “Majority Rule is untenable in theory and unjustifiable in practice. A majority community may be conceded a relative majority of representation but it can never claim an absolute majority.”
In simple terms, Ambedkar argued that while the formation of a government may occur through majority support, it must never overlook the necessity of respecting the consent of the minority. For this reason, Ambedkar opposed the enactment of any law that lacked the approval of minority communities, warning that such disregard could provoke rebellion. Law after law directly affecting minorities—especially the Muslim minority—is being enacted by the Modi-led BJP Government without seeking their consent. In fact, the recent enactment of the Waqf Amendment Bill (2025) is widely seen as a majoritarian assault on minority rights.
On multiple occasions, Ambedkar demanded both proportionate and effective representation for minorities. It is important to note that while proportionate representation is necessary, it is not sufficient. The term effective is crucial in Ambedkar’s framework for safeguarding minority rights. Once the principle of effective representation is acknowledged, it essentially grants the minority a form of veto power. This veto power serves as an assurance that minorities need not fear majority rule, as no law would be passed and no policy formulated without their equal participation and consent.
In other words, the success of democracy lies in ensuring that minorities feel confident, secure, and prosperous. Ambedkar, the Chairman of the Constitution Drafting Committee, sought to give the country a strong and just constitution, and he did his utmost to safeguard the interests of weaker sections within it. However, Ambedkar was also aware that, without the active participation of minorities and other marginalized groups in policymaking, even a good law would not ensure justice. To emphasize his point, Ambedkar argued that if marginalized communities are included in decision-making processes, they can interpret even a bad law to deliver justice. But if they are excluded from executing policies, even the best of laws will fail to serve their interests.
One of Babasaheb Ambedkar’s greatest achievements was securing constitutional, institutional, and legal protection for the policy of social justice and reservations—thus removing it from the whims of any individual, whether in the executive or the judiciary. Ambedkar understood that justice could not be achieved without addressing gender inequality and legally granting Hindu women equal rights. This is why he pushed hard for the passage of the Hindu Code Bill in its undiluted form.
No one understood better than Ambedkar the suffering of Hindu women during the post-Buddhist era, particularly under the social codes of Manu, which stripped them of their rights and severely restricted their mobility. As a feminist, Ambedkar recognized that the caste system was perpetuated by controlling the sexuality of Hindu women and prohibiting inter-caste marriages. He aimed to eliminate these social evils and liberate women through the Hindu Code Bill. Unfortunately, the Hindu Right—both within the Congress party and outside it—conspired against him. When he found himself isolated, Ambedkar was forced to resign. To this day, Ambedkar’s mission to liberate Hindu women remains unfulfilled.
As is evident today, the philosophy and goals of Dr. Ambedkar are more relevant than ever before. However, the struggle for emancipation from the caste-based social order can only succeed if broader solidarity is forged. I find that Ambedkar’s thoughts and programs align more closely with Leftist agendas. When I use the term “Left,” I refer to the broader Marxist and socialist philosophy. While I acknowledge that Ambedkar did not agree with every aspect of mainstream Marxist and socialist interpretations, that does not mean Ambedkar—and by extension, Ambedkarites—are not natural allies of the Left. Here, the term “Left” does not refer to any specific political party. Nor am I ignoring the reality that leadership within mainstream Left parties in India has historically been dominated by upper castes, who often neglected caste issues and hesitated to elevate Dalit leaders to top positions. Nevertheless, the historical failures of certain Left organizations should not become a permanent obstacle to an alliance between Ambedkarite and Leftist forces.
That is why, for me, my Ambedkar is a Leftist Ambedkar.
Dr. Abhay Kumar holds a PhD in Modern History from the Centre for Historical Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University. His forthcoming book explores Muslim Personal Law. Email: debatingissues@gmail.com