There have been quite a few biographies of B.R. Ambedkar in the past, especially in the last couple of years. What then is the rationale for writing yet another? Anand Teltumbde refers to his book as a “reflective biography”. Iconoclast: A Reflective Biography of Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar attempts to revisit and analyse Ambedkar’s life and ideas in the light of the rise of Hindutva and the failure of anti-caste struggles to counter both “Brahminism and capitalism”. Uniquely, it does not shy away from critiquing Ambedkar and tracing some of the current limitations of anti-caste struggles and the iconisation of Ambedkar to limitations in his own reflections.
Iconoclast: A Reflective Biography of Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar
India Viking
2024
Pages: 675
Price: Rs.973
The political philosopher Quentin Skinner argues that philosophical propositions are best understood in the historical context in which a philosopher works. For instance, Hobbesian notions of the “state of nature” (that is, a human condition predating political association that was supposedly characterised by a state of perpetual conflict: “war of every man against every man”) were born out of the conditions of perennial civil wars in England. Historical contexts bring abstract propositions to life. How do we assess the political influence of philosophers whose impact stretches beyond their times? How do we assess their culpability? Is there an intellectual afterlife for which they can be held accountable, unlike in the case of thinkers who have us believe that a text takes a life of its own and for all philosophical purposes “the author is dead”.
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Teltumbde does not wish to give this kind of benefit of doubt to Ambedkar. In an unusually bold and rather dialectical approach, he proposes a critical rethink of Ambedkar’s thoughts as a way of resisting his appropriation by the conservative Right. Ambedkar can be restored to his proper historical place not by turning him into an icon but by questioning his iconisation, which is a product of the undermining of the radical possibilities of Ambedkar’s thought. Further, even as we explore those radical possibilities, we find a proper place for the “de-radicalisation” of anti-caste struggles where “Ambedkarism only served as an alibi for every kind of political drift”.
Book cover of Iconoclast: A Reflective Biography of Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar
Recalling Ambedkar’s stringent critique of Hinduism as a menace to liberty, equality, and fraternity, Teltumbde does not shy away from saying: “...but the depth of degeneration of Dalits had reached such lows that they are completely blinded by their identitarian blinkers even to these stark facts and fall prey to the intrigues of the Hindutva forces.”
Teltumbde traces back some of the rot to Ambedkar’s own controversial propositions. He says the alternative lies in bringing Dalit and Left politics together. He believes that Ambedkar’s view of Dalit and communist struggles as mutually exclusive has been a factor in the way anti-caste struggles have fallen prey to vested interests within and without.
Ambedkar’s embrace of Buddhism is seen as the “ultimate bulwark against communism”. “This anti-communist slant in Ambedkar was forged into a core tenet of Ambedkarism by the vested interests and made to fragment the Dalit movement to its irrelevance while sapping the communists of their potential support base,” argues Teltumbde. This separation was responsible for the rise of the identitarian politics that now divides Dalits into sub-castes.
An imperfect understanding of other marginalised groups
Teltumbde locates the “problem of displacement” of class in Ambedkar’s thinking in a wider neglect and, on occasions, an imperfect and even prejudicial understanding of other marginalised groups. He writes: “Ambedkar’s exclusive focus on the untouchables was problematic for its narrowness, ignoring other instances of injustice.” This approach has thrown Dalit politics into a perennial and vicious cycle of reification of an identity that needs to be transcended. This reification reflects an inability to forge solidarity with other marginalised groups. It stymies attempts to overcome stigma and assert dignity; this inability to fight stigma gets linked to pragmatic politics, ad hoc choices, and the eventual fragmentation that was readily available for Hindutva to convert into polarised intra-subaltern conflicts that I refer to in my own writings as “secular sectarianism”.
Teltumbde points to Ambedkar’s somewhat strange views on many other marginalised communities. He thought of Adivasis as “not yet ready” to enjoy the fruits of civilisation and of Muslims and Christians as “denationalised”. This, in fact, was one of the reasons why he chose not to convert to Islam though he was convinced of its egalitarian pronouncements.
Paradoxically for someone who resigned as Law Minister over Parliament’s inability to pass the Hindu Code Bill (proposing reforms in social aspects of Hinduism), Amdedkar commented on the increasing number of women parliamentarians that the Congress promoted, remarking if these women spent their time in Parliament who would manage their children. Ambedkar changed some of his views and positions on the basis of the exigencies of mobilisational politics.
It is this “pragmatism” of “doing what works” that has now seeped into anti-caste struggles. Did Ambedkar willy-nilly provide a ready justification to pragmatic turns in order to protect exclusivist interests or did these changes reflect the historical complexities of mobilising the most marginalised community? Even Gandhi was known for his twists and turns and inconsistencies.
Teltumbde traces some of Ambedkar’s limitations in mobilising larger constituencies incorporating other marginalised groups to historical exigencies: “The contradiction between the expansion of the constituency through class politics and the consequent diminishing attention to the core constituency always weighed heavy on his mind…. how much was it due to his caste concerns and how much was it due to his own tirade against the communists, is difficult to say.” He cites instances where Ambedkar failed to hold on to the support of even non-Mahar Dalits. He cites Sitaram Shivtarkar, co-organiser and a Chambhar, as saying: “Ambedkar does not and will not represent any community other than the Mahar community.” In contrast, Gandhi claimed to represent all Hindus and asserted that Dalits were part of Hindu society.
The cultural basis of class beyond political economy
Teltumbde’s central concern in most of his writings has been how class unity can be achieved in a caste-based society. While this concern is well taken and even necessary, does it also not demand further exploration of the cultural basis of class beyond political economy? Today, the agenda of annihilation of caste is being gradually replaced by what I refer to as “culturalisation” of caste—caste as “a way of life” and not merely something about hierarchical exclusions. Castes are asserting their identities through cultural registers rather than disowning caste-based practices as historically imposed. I was surprised to find that Ambedkar was open to this reading when he argued that peninsular India had a fundamental cultural unity, “which makes a problem of caste difficult to be explained”.
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Teltumbde dismisses this insight of Ambedkar as a mistaken reading of a superficial unity created over centuries of internalisation of caste hierarchies. Even if that is true, a deep sense of cultural belonging is necessary even for subversive politics. Humans are deeply temporal creatures that take pride and find identity in tracing historical continuity. Current populist mobilisation, across the globe, is striking a chord along these registers. Perhaps, a cautious approach to some of these insights (that are equally dialectical) in Ambedkar could be more helpful than a quick dismissal. Such observations may not be symptoms of inconsistencies or plain misreading but a wedging open, and acknowledgement, of social complexities. In order to acknowledge caste-based atrocities, is it necessary to deny the cultural sense of belonging? Ambedkar’s shift to Buddhism emerged from this latent understanding of the need for spirituality that communists and class-based mobilisations have thoroughly undermined.
Why Teltumbde was targeted
The book a must-read to revisit and debate some of these intriguing issues. Very few scholars would have had this kind of clarity of purpose and courage of conviction to recontextualise Ambedkar in the current context. It is a bulky book of 675 pages, written with a great degree of detail (though the editing is shoddy at places). It traces Ambedkar’s life in seven phases with a final chapter on the posthumous phase from 1957 to 2023. The last chapter takes us through different versions of the anti-caste politics from the Black Panthers to the rise of the Bahujan Samaj Party.
The potential to transform the character of anti-caste struggles through such introspection can perhaps explain why Teltumbde was arrested in the Bhima Koregaon-Elgar Parishad case. In fact, he was incarcerated while he was in the course of finalising this book. He was targeted not for being a Dalit but a Dalit who carries the conviction to speak on behalf of all other marginalised groups. When it comes to justice, identities should be transgressive and not a burden. They should become expansive and not sectarian. Being expansive will invariably mean calling out injustices internal to one’s own identity. This book will handsomely contribute to the formation of such alternative visions, not only through intellect but in demonstrating the personal commitment that is necessary for such historically transformative projects.
Ajay Gudavarthy is Associate Professor, Centre for Political Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi.
