Revolution 1 from the Beatles’ White album was written by John Lennon in Rishikesh in 1968. This distorted, ‘hard rock’ song was inspired partly by the student uprisings in Paris:
“You say you want a revolution/Well, you know/
We all want to change the world.”
The lyric is straightforward, but ambiguities abound: Is this just a pop song inaugurating commodification of dissent? Is Lennon in favour of violent means or opposed? He sings:
“But when you talk about destruction/Don’t you know that you can count me out (in).”
Is Lennon pro or contra revolution? He repeats nine times throughout the song:
“Don’t you know it’s gonna be/All right?”
These ambiguities sparked debate amongst student activists, new-left revolutionaries, and music critics at the time — and historians today.
In some respects, there is a similar long-standing debate amongst academics and social activists regarding the degree of radicality of another legendary icon — not a pop star, but a towering social activist, political leader, and chief architect of the Indian Constitution, B R Ambedkar.
Would Ambedkar condone the activist protests — student and otherwise — marking the last few years? Was the revolutionary nature of his thought subsumed within the ideal of constitutional democracy, or did he regard it legitimate to reach out beyond when ends demanded such means?
On one side of this debate are those who would present Ambedkar as more statist. This Ambedkar demands commitment to constitutional methods, moving courts, filing RTIs (or FIRs if required), participating in electoral mobilisation, and in sum using all and only the political and juridical means appropriate to a democratic republic with free and fair elections and participatory governance.
The evidence that this side appeals to is Ambedkar’s November 25, 1949, speech in the Constituent Assembly. Here he implored everyone to disavow the “grammar of anarchy”; to abandon the bloody methods of revolution, civil disobedience, non-cooperation and satyagraha.
The other side is inspired by the radical Ambedkar of the 1920s and 1930s, with his Mahad revolt, temple-entry movements, and other civil rights campaigns. They favour marches, street protests, dharnas and other direct action. Moderates opt to take to these measures only after exhausting constitutional remedies; radicals bypass them, since common experience establishes well-enough the futility of investing hope in the State, given the systemic representational defects of the electoral process, elite or vested capture of every relevant institution, and caste-class-gender-community biases throughout all its organs.
This camp could actually appeal to the very same speech in support of its radical position. For, only moments prior to his “grammar of anarchy” comments, Ambedkar made strong remarks about Thomas Jefferson’s views on the limitations of a previous generation binding a succeeding one (“the Earth belongs to the living”). Jefferson’s view is encapsulated in this famous remark: “What country can preserve its liberties if their rulers are not warned from time to time that their people preserve the spirit of resistance? ...The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.”
Ambedkar commented: “I admit that what Jefferson has said is not merely true, but is absolutely true.” Jefferson held that a Constitution was only fundamental law insofar as it reflected natural rights, the rest of it being positive law akin to legislation. This is a very radical, non-statist viewpoint that led people to quote him as suggesting that every generation needs its own revolution. We obviously cannot attribute such a radical position to Ambedkar. However, it is significant that Ambedkar was so emphatic: “What Jefferson has said is not merely true, but is absolutely true.” That’s a great deal of emphasis on a revolutionary viewpoint.
The topic of revolution is beset with ambiguities. In the Ambedkar debate, both camps make valid points. But if the side championing a statist Ambedkar is also championing a regressive State, be sceptical of their good faith. Even Lennon was unambiguous about this:
“You say you’ll change the constitution/Well, you know/
We’d all love to change your head.”
(Aakash Singh Rathore as Dr Jekyll is a Professor of Philosophy, Politics and Law, author and editor of over 20 books and counting, and as Mr Hyde, one of India’s top-ranking Ironman triathletes)