What would the Founders say?

Author’s note: The following is a constitutional thought experiment. It asks how three central figures in the making of modern India – Mahatma Gandhi, BR Ambedkar, and Jawaharlal Nehru – might respond if they were to read the World Inequality Report 2026 and its Appendix on India today.

They sit together in silence.

The report, its cover illustrated in shades of green, lies open before them. Outside, India hums, restless and alive. Inside, three men who helped shape the nation read what has become of the Republic they once imagined.

Gandhi is the first to speak. “So”, the Mahatma says quietly, “we have grown wealthy – yet remain poor.”

He looks again at the income figures. “Ten per cent take well over half of all that is earned, while half the population must make do with just 15 per cent. This is not merely an imbalance. It is a moral failure.”

Ambedkar adjusts his spectacles. “It is not a failure of morality alone. It is a failure of structure,” he says. “The imbalance has not corrected itself over time. Concentration of income, wealth, opportunity – this is the logic of an economic system left unchecked by constitutional purpose. Inequality here is not accidental. It is designed, or at least permitted.”

Nehru leans forward. “What troubles me,” he says, “is that economic growth has not translated into well-being for all. An early economic advisor of mine, K N Raj, once remarked – We must hasten slowly! But if the bottom half remains stuck with roughly the same share year after year, and their material conditions do not improve, the high growth rate alone makes little sense. We need to question the material composition of that growth.”

They turn to the next set of figures.

“The concentration of wealth is even sharper,” Ambedkar notes. “The top one per cent alone commands a share many times that of the entire bottom half combined. This is exactly what we warned against in the Directive Principles. An economy that allows wealth to accumulate so heavily at the top has chosen sides.”

Gandhi frowns. “When wealth ceases to recognise obligation, it ceases to have moral legitimacy. I spoke of trusteeship because I feared this – an India where possession outruns responsibility.”

Nehru nods. “We believed the State would act as a balancing force – to prevent such extreme divergence. Planning was meant to discipline accumulation. These figures suggest that discipline has weakened.”

Ambedkar turns a page. “What concerns me even more is what this means for democracy. Political equality cannot survive indefinitely alongside such economic inequality. When half the population commands a small fraction of income and wealth, their freedom is formal, not substantive.”

Gandhi responds gently, “And fraternity cannot grow in such soil. When society is split so sharply between those who possess and those who endure, mutual regard withers. Inequality is not only material – it is relational.”

They pause at the section on women.

“Here,” Nehru says quietly, “is a grave indictment. Women’s participation in economic life remains strikingly low.”

Ambedkar’s voice is firm. “This is a constitutional failure. Equality before the law means little if economic structures exclude women from livelihood. Democracy cannot rest on the economic dependence of half its citizens.”

“And a society that sidelines women,” Gandhi adds, “cripples its own moral strength. Development that does not include women is development without conscience.”

They return to the ratios – shares held, shares denied.

“The report does not merely describe inequality,” Nehru reflects. “It describes persistence. A Republic may tolerate hardship in transition, but what excuse does it have for stagnation in justice?”

Ambedkar answers sharply. “None. I warned that if social and economic inequalities remained unresolved, constitutional methods would come under strain. When promises endure only on paper, resentment seeks other outlets.”

Gandhi closes the report. “The tragedy is not that India has produced wealth. It is that wealth has not produced care.”

Silence returns.

Finally, Nehru speaks. “The Constitution was meant to be a direction. These figures suggest we have slowed, perhaps even turned away from it.”

Ambedkar nods. “The Directive Principles were not decorative. They were warnings.”

“And reminders,” Gandhi adds softly. “That freedom without justice is only another form of bondage.”

They rise. The report remains on the table. India, unfinished, continues to hum outside.

(The writer is a reflective development practitioner based in Kozhikode)