Ambedkar and the Idea of a Secular State: What We’ve Forgotten

By Aditi Singh

Dr. B.R. Ambedkar envisioned a nation where religion would remain a matter of personal faith, not public policy. His idea of a secular state was not merely about keeping the church and state apart, as in Western democracies—it was about building a moral and political order that ensured equality among citizens, regardless of their faith or caste. For Ambedkar, secularism was not a slogan; it was the foundation for justice in a deeply divided society like India’s. Yet, in the India of today, his idea of secularism seems to be eroding, replaced by a fragile balance of majoritarian politics and selective morality.

Ambedkar’s concept of secularism was shaped by his lived experience. Born into a caste system that denied him basic human dignity, he understood that religion in India was not just a belief system—it was a structure of social power. The Brahmanical order justified caste hierarchy through sacred texts, and the state, historically, endorsed it. When Ambedkar led the drafting of the Indian Constitution, he wanted to end this fusion of religion and power. For him, a secular state was one that recognized individuals as citizens first, not as members of religious communities.

This vision was revolutionary. Ambedkar’s secularism did not mean hostility toward religion—it meant neutrality of the state. The Constitution he helped craft guarantees freedom of religion, but also gives the state the authority to intervene when religious practices violate basic human rights. For example, Article 17 abolishing untouchability was a direct challenge to religiously sanctioned discrimination. In that sense, Ambedkar’s secularism was active, not passive—it demanded state intervention to dismantle inequality, not mere indifference to it.

But what have we done with that vision? Over the decades, India’s politics has slowly shifted from secular governance to symbolic religiosity. Temples and mosques have become stages for political theatre. Leaders compete to display religious loyalty rather than constitutional responsibility. Even policies that claim to promote equality often carry religious or caste undertones. The secular state Ambedkar imagined—one that would protect individuals from the tyranny of both religion and majority rule—is now trapped between populist religiosity and institutional silence.

The erosion of secularism is not just an Indian concern. Around the world, democracies are struggling with similar tensions—between religious identity and civic equality. In the United States, debates over abortion and school prayer echo the same struggle between personal faith and public law. In Europe, the rise of Islamophobia and far-right nationalism challenges the secular promise of liberal democracy. The crisis is global, but in India, it cuts deeper because our Constitution was born from the trauma of partition—a reminder of what happens when religion defines nations.

Ambedkar warned against this. He famously said, “If religion is not to be the law of the State, the State must be the law of religion.” In other words, democracy cannot survive if laws are dictated by faith. Yet, his warning feels almost prophetic today. From attempts to rewrite history textbooks to laws influenced by religious sentiment, we are watching the gradual normalization of what Ambedkar most feared—a moral state rooted in majoritarian belief.

Reclaiming Ambedkar’s secular vision requires more than nostalgia. It demands courage—to question religious orthodoxy, to defend dissent, and to separate personal faith from political identity. It also requires honesty—from intellectuals, journalists, and citizens—to admit that secularism in India has been treated as political convenience, not constitutional duty.

Ambedkar’s idea of a secular state was not Western liberalism—it was Indian humanism. It sought to replace inherited privilege with rational morality. For him, the state’s duty was to protect individuals from the tyranny of both caste and creed. If we forget that, we risk losing not just secularism, but the very soul of democracy itself.

In remembering Ambedkar today, we must go beyond garlands and statues. His secularism was a call to conscience—to imagine a society where equality is not granted by gods, but guaranteed by law. That remains India’s unfinished revolution.