Jai Bhim as Assertion: Dignity, Pride, and Collective Recognition

Dr Vikrant Kishore

From everyday forms of salutation, whether namaste, pranam, vanakkam, namaskaram, hello, or hi, to Jai Bhim, the shift in modes of address among Ambedkarites and their allies is not merely linguistic. It signals a change in how individuals locate themselves within social relations and histories of inequality. What may appear as a simple greeting carries a different weight when it enters a context grounded in caste(ism), memory, and assertion. Jai Bhim does not function as an exchange of politeness; it marks a position.

Jai Bhim carries memory, expectation, and a claim to dignity.

Public language often carries more than immediate meaning. Certain expressions operate not only as forms of address, but as markers of position, memory, and ethical orientation. Jai Bhim is one such expression. It circulates in everyday interaction, yet its significance cannot be reduced to greeting alone. It functions as a language of dignity and refusal, emerging from histories of caste-based exclusion and continuing across both Indian and diasporic contexts.

This understanding emerges clearly in my documentary Resisting Casteism in Australia, which examines how caste persists within migrant communities. Rather than approaching the issue through abstract categories, the film engages with lived accounts. Participants speak about Jai Bhim not as a symbolic phrase, but as something embedded in their everyday experience. When asked what the phrase meant to them, their responses were direct, specific, and grounded in memory.

Participants based in Melbourne, Dr Rupali Bhamare and Asmita Mahire Singh, described it in terms that foreground both history and presence. Dr Bhamare referred to it as “courage, memory, and hope,” while Asmita Mahire Singh noted that when she says it, she acknowledges “the struggles and the efforts of those who came before us, because of whose efforts we can live a life with dignity.” These accounts position Jai Bhim as a form of historical recognition that remains active. It connects present experience with past struggle without separating the two, allowing memory to remain part of everyday language rather than a distant reference.

At the same time, these discussions draw attention to why Ambedkar continues to be held in such high regard. His work addressed not only the visible forms of caste discrimination, but also the long history of humiliation, exclusion, and denial of dignity carried across generations. The conditions faced by marginalised communities were not confined to a single moment; they accumulated over centuries, leaving lasting effects on access, recognition, and self-perception. Ambedkar’s interventions, through law, thought, and political action, offered a framework through which dignity could be asserted rather than deferred. For many, Jai Bhim carries this association. It is not only a reference to Ambedkar as a figure, but an acknowledgment of what his work made possible.

What becomes evident through these discussions is that Jai Bhim cannot be reduced to a slogan. It operates as an articulation of memory that continues to influence present conditions. It functions as a recognition of struggle, not as an abstract idea but as a lived inheritance. It also operates as a claim to dignity, expressed through ordinary interaction rather than formal discourse. In this sense, it carries continuity across generations and across locations, including diasporic settings where these meanings are taken up in new environments. It also marks respect for those who suffered long histories of degradation, whose experiences are not always recorded in formal accounts but remain present in collective memory.

This continuity is further evident in how participants connect the phrase to values rather than identity alone. Sydney-based Aparna Ramteke described Jai Bhim as “a reaffirmation of values, of equality and social empowerment.” This shifts the emphasis from belonging to alignment. The phrase does not simply mark who one is; it indicates what one stands for, and what one is prepared to uphold in practice. This distinction matters in contexts where identity is often displayed without altering social relations. Jai Bhim, by contrast, carries an expectation that extends into everyday conduct.

A similar perspective emerges in the account offered by Dr Prashant Khobargade, based in Coffs Harbour, who noted that saying Jai Bhim instils “confidence in our own self.” This confidence is not framed in individual terms. It draws from a collective history in which dignity was contested and continues to be asserted. The phrase contributes to a reorientation of self-perception, enabling individuals to speak from a position not defined by inherited hierarchy. This becomes significant in contexts where caste continues to condition expectations, often in ways that are subtle yet persistent.

These accounts also draw attention to the persistence of caste beyond national boundaries. Migration is often associated with movement into new social environments where older hierarchies are assumed to lose relevance. Yet the discussions in Resisting Casteism in Australia suggest that caste does not disappear with relocation. It continues to appear in indirect forms, influencing social networks, shaping patterns of association, and informing decisions that are not always explicitly articulated. These practices are often difficult to identify because they do not rely on direct naming, which allows them to remain unexamined.

Within such contexts, Jai Bhim operates as a form of recognition that does not depend on institutional validation. It allows individuals to acknowledge caste discrimination and its continuing effects without requiring formal acknowledgement from public discourse. Dr Parag Moon, based in Melbourne, described it as something that enables him to “carry forward Ambedkar’s legacy in a new country.” This points to the fact that the phrase extends beyond a single location. It moves across contexts, retaining its meaning while responding to different social conditions, and allows individuals to articulate a position that does not disappear with migration.

This movement also points to a larger feature of Ambedkar’s thought. His work does not remain confined to a specific historical moment or national setting. It continues to be invoked in contexts where questions of dignity, belonging, and discrimination remain unresolved. The continuity of these questions explains why Ambedkar’s presence has intensified in recent years, both within India and across diasporic communities. His ideas retain their force because the structures he examined have not been dismantled, even when they are not openly acknowledged.

Furthermore, there is a tendency to separate Ambedkar’s image from his ideas. Public discourse often places emphasis on commemoration, especially during occasions such as Ambedkar Jayanti. His role in drafting the Constitution, his intellectual achievements, and his political leadership are frequently acknowledged. These recognitions are necessary, yet they can remain limited if they do not lead to engagement with his critique.

The risk here is that Ambedkar is remembered, but not read, and invoked, but not followed.

Ambedkar himself warned of this gap when he stated that “political democracy cannot last unless there lies at the base of it social democracy.” This directs attention to the limits of formal recognition. Social democracy, as he framed it, rests on liberty, equality, and fraternity as lived principles rather than abstract ideals. The distance between constitutional promise and everyday practice continues to define the question of equality in both India and diaspora.

Jai Bhim disrupts this pattern by bringing Ambedkar’s presence into everyday language. It makes his ideas part of interaction rather than restricting them to formal occasions. In the discussions captured in the documentary, the phrase is linked to values, to equality, and to a sense of responsibility. To say Jai Bhim is not only to express identification; it is to take a position that carries ethical implications.

This position becomes critical when considering how caste continues to operate in both India and diaspora. Caste structures access, recognition, and opportunity, often through practices that are normalised or overlooked. Addressing this requires attention not only to institutional frameworks, but also to everyday interaction, language, and forms of association that reproduce hierarchy. It also requires a willingness to name caste(ism) where it exists, rather than treating it as a matter located elsewhere.

Ambedkar’s insistence on confronting inequality directly continues to be relevant. His work did not rely on symbolic gestures. It called for structural change based on reason and ethical practice. He also emphasised fraternity as a necessary condition for democratic life, noting that without it, equality remains fragile. This remains significant because legal equality does not automatically translate into social equality, whether in India or in diasporic societies that claim to operate through liberal frameworks.

Thus, Jai Bhim can be understood as an attempt to practise fraternity through language. It offers a form of address that does not reproduce hierarchy and affirms equality without requiring formal recognition. At the same time, it does not allow complacency. The conditions that made the phrase necessary have not disappeared. They continue to exist across different contexts, even when they are not openly acknowledged.

On occasions such as Ambedkar Jayanti, acts of remembrance continue to matter. These may include speeches, public gatherings, and symbolic gestures. Such practices are important, yet they do not exhaust the significance of the occasion. The discussions in Resisting Casteism in Australia point towards a more demanding task. They ask what it means to engage with Ambedkar’s ideas in everyday life, especially in contexts where caste discrimination is present but not openly acknowledged. This involves examining one’s own position within social structures and recognising how inequality continues to operate.

Jai Bhim, in this sense, cannot be reduced to a greeting. It functions as a reminder that dignity is not given, but asserted. It also locates the speaker within an ongoing history of struggle and thought. Its continued use suggests that this history remains active, rather than concluded. It indicates that the work associated with Ambedkar’s name is not complete, and that its continuation depends on how it is taken up in lived practice.

To understand and respect what is being said when someone says Jai Bhim is to recognise that it carries more than politeness. It carries memory, expectation, and a claim to dignity. It signals a refusal to accept inherited hierarchy. It asserts a position rooted in equality. It points towards a way of standing in the world that does not detach dignity from everyday life.

Jai Bhim.