Should the minority pose faith in the doctrine of tolerance, susceptible as it has historically been to the vagaries of majoritarian reason? Or must the minor instead posit, even at its most vulnerable, a new “faith in equality,” one that puts equal faith in faith and equality? Which immediately raises a political question: are all religions worthy of being called equal? Endlessly preoccupied – and fascinated – by this tangle between theology and the political (and convinced that not all religions yield similar – let alone equal – politics), Ambedkar issues a prophetic warning somewhere in the middle of his revolutionary interwar manifesto Annihilation of Caste (1936). “Some may not understand,” he cautions, “what I mean by destruction of religion.” What does Ambedkar mean by the destruction of religion? In this essay, I undertake a genealogy of one oblique but passionate thread in Ambedkar’s moral and political conviction: his faith that the thought of freedom requires not merely a criticism of religion, pace Marx, but also a faithful critique of all existing, secularist criticisms of religion. There is an aporia here in this hypercritical affirmation of faith as the ground of freedom. For not only is this freedom resolutely atheological; it is also, at the same time, heterogeneous to the measure of modern secularity and its language of immanence. In this positing of freedom as freedom from transcendental reasons and normative secularity alike, in this reclamation of faith grounded in the void of all absolutist principles (including that of sovereignty) and annulment of the very notion of self (from which such sovereignty ensues), Ambedkar makes possible a new thinking of “force.” And within this thinking of force, I argue, he paradoxically inaugurates a new critique of violence that inheres in the rhetoric of postcolonial tolerance, even self-determination. Rescued from the constituent power of the modern majority, this other force would be centered on the finitude and emptiness—the destituent nonforce— of the minor. Sunnyata, the concept to which a mature and ill Ambedkar returns two decades later, is this finitude turned radical: the insurrectionary void at the heart of citizenship of which the outnumbered Siddhartha, yet to become the Buddha, remains for Ambedkar the greatest exemplar.