Kamal Haasan, the self-proclaimed intellectual savior of India’s secular fabric, continues to baffle and amuse anyone with a modicum of understanding of India’s political and historical realities. In his relentless pursuit of political relevance, the veteran actor seems to have mistaken his on-screen versatility for off-screen credibility.
For someone who enjoys donning the mantle of a secular warrior, Kamal Haasan seems to have a rather creative—albeit flawed—interpretation of the concept. Secularism, in its truest sense, is not about juggling or pandering to all religions in matters of governance. It is about the complete absence of religion in governance—ensuring that state decisions are made without influence from any faith, belief system, or religious institution. Yet, Haasan’s understanding of secularism seems to be as elusive as his box-office hits in recent years.
Adding to his repertoire of lofty declarations, Haasan recently proclaimed that Dr. B.R. Ambedkar’s ideas are the “building blocks” of modern India, juxtaposing them with Mahatma Gandhi’s role in liberating the country from foreign oppression. According to Haasan, while Gandhi freed India from colonial rule, Ambedkar liberated India from its ancient shackles of social injustice. It’s a statement designed to draw applause, but it exposes the actor-turned-politician’s shallow understanding of both historical figures.
If Haasan had genuinely studied Ambedkar’s views on Gandhi, he would know that Ambedkar held serious reservations about Gandhi’s philosophy and methods. Far from being an admirer of the Mahatma, Ambedkar critiqued Gandhi for promoting ideas that Ambedkar believed were suited only for the privileged leisure class, not for a democratic and egalitarian society. Gandhi’s emphasis on village-centric self-reliance and spirituality, in Ambedkar’s eyes, was a romanticized vision that failed to address the systemic inequalities plaguing Indian society.
Moreover, Ambedkar refused to bestow Gandhi with the title of “Mahatma,” famously stating that he was tired of the question, “Is Gandhi a Mahatma?” Ambedkar went as far as to say that he hated all Mahatmas and considered their existence a curse to the nation. Such sentiments highlight the ideological chasm between Ambedkar’s pragmatic vision of social reform and Gandhi’s moral idealism.
Perhaps the most significant flashpoint in their relationship was the Poona Pact. Ambedkar believed that Gandhi’s staunch opposition to separate electorates for Dalits was a severe blow to their political empowerment. The compromise Ambedkar was forced to accept under Gandhi’s pressure fell short of addressing the entrenched caste-based injustices that he sought to eradicate. For Haasan to now wrap Gandhi and Ambedkar in the same banner of liberation demonstrates either a lack of historical understanding or a calculated effort to oversimplify history for political convenience.
Haasan’s rhetoric also includes a call to commemorate 75 years of the adoption of India’s Constitution with a meaningful discussion and dissection of Ambedkar’s ideas in Parliament. While this sounds noble, one wonders if Haasan himself has engaged meaningfully with these ideas. His selective invocation of Ambedkar appears more performative than substantive, a convenient prop for his evolving political persona.
By presenting a sanitized and romanticized view of Ambedkar’s relationship with Gandhi, Haasan not only distorts history but also trivializes the profound debates that shaped India’s political and social framework. Ambedkar and Gandhi were towering figures with complex and often conflicting philosophies. Reducing their legacies to soundbites for political posturing does a disservice to the nuanced history they represent.
Kamal Haasan’s political journey increasingly resembles a theatrical production where the actor is more invested in the applause than in the authenticity of his performance. His statements, while eloquent, often reveal a superficial understanding of the very ideas he claims to champion. In attempting to straddle the legacies of Gandhi and Ambedkar, Haasan risks exposing himself as a dilettante in the world of politics, playing to the gallery rather than engaging with the substance of history.
In the end, one is left to wonder whether Kamal Haasan is genuinely committed to contributing to India’s political discourse or if this is just another role for him to play. Either way, the audience deserves better than a poorly scripted performance masquerading as intellectual engagement.
