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The last year has seen a quiet revival of India’s language politics. This time, the protests are not on the streets, as in the 1960s, but in a digital space fired up by a pattern of speeches from nationalist leaders championing Hindi and Sanskrit while condemning English.
This has triggered a unique phenomenon, unsettling both the elite and the aspiring masses alike. The privileged, who treat English as a prized possession, fear its value will be distorted by a chaotic policy. The masses — empowered by technology and viewing English as their only bridge to a modern, global economy — fear that bridge is now shaking, threatening to collapse before they can cross.
This unease reveals a deep contradiction. Initially, many elites were conspicuously silent, and some even supported the push for Hindi and Sanskrit. It served their interest in consolidating cultural power, while they remained secure in the knowledge that their own children’s access to elite English education was guaranteed.
They did not anticipate, however, that the rhetoric would eventually pivot to a full-blown anti-English stance. This turn has now trapped them in a difficult position, caught between their nationalist posturing and the practical reality that English is the language of global opportunity.
This dynamic threatens to make English an even more exclusive commodity — silently purchased by the wealthy, while being systematically denied to the masses. It is the exact opposite of what it should be: a simple access skill, a public good available to all Indians, like rice from a ration shop.
English is a bridge, not a colonial chain
The argument that English is a colonial relic is intellectually dishonest. Languages evolve. Today, English is the undisputed global language of science, technology, commerce, and academia.
Nations without a history of British colonisation — such as Germany and Japan — alongside others like South Korea and China, aggressively promote English as an essential tool for global communication and a skill. This is not seen as an act of cultural surrender, but as a pragmatic strategy for economic and technological advancement.
For India, a nation aspiring to global leadership, deliberately holding back our youth in the name of cultural purity is an act of national self-sabotage.
A union of tongues, a state of neglect
The government's rhetoric about multilingualism crumbles when confronted with data and reality. The three-language formula, for instance, has been an abject failure on the ground. According to the 2011 Census, only 7% of Indians know three languages. In the Hindi-speaking states of Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and Madhya Pradesh, this number plummets below 2%. Even bilingualism is limited to just 26% of the population.
This reality makes policies like the recent CBSE circular — mandating mother-tongue instruction from July 2025 — seem like a grand deception. While the policy sounds noble, it ignores the logistical nightmare faced by a teacher in a class of 50 students with five different mother tongues.
As has already been documented in government schools in Chhattisgarh and Rajasthan, the default instruction inevitably becomes the dominant regional language—or, more often, Hindi.
This is part of a larger, systemic erasure. While citizens declared over 19,500 mother tongues in the 2011 Census, a process of grouping based on numerical strength and other metrics distilled this vast number down to just 121 major languages — of which only 22 are included in the Eighth Schedule.
If all these languages are truly “jewels” of our civilisation, why not allocate equitable resources to all 22 scheduled languages, with dedicated secondary funding for the rest—to preserve our diverse cultures, rather than engineer a monoculture?
Weaponising 'culture' to undermine science and unity
The attack on English is not an isolated event. It is part of a broader, more insidious project to force a choice between “culture” and “progress.” This manufactured conflict is visible across multiple domains:
• Undermining science: The push to integrate MBBS with traditional medicine and the quiet removal of Darwin’s theory of evolution from some textbooks are prime examples. Darwin's theory, based on scientific evidence, directly contradicts rigid, varna-based origin myths. By attacking it, the aim is to subordinate scientific temper to ideological dogma.
• Imposing language: The relentless use of Hindi and Sanskrit for naming national schemes serves a clear purpose: to establish a specific cultural-linguistic hierarchy. While the census claims 44% of Indians speak Hindi, this figure is inflated by controversially absorbing distinct languages like Bhojpuri, Rajasthani, and Chhattisgarhi. Without these, the actual number of native Hindi speakers is closer to 26%.
This hierarchy is backed by the treasury. The Union government has allocated over Rs 1,500 crore for Sanskrit development, while the 21 other languages of the Eighth Schedule receive only a fraction of that support. The agenda is an open secret — it has been reported that a majority of the Union cabinet’s work is now conducted in Hindi, cementing it as the de facto language of power.
This is not a project to unite India. It is a project to reshape India in the image of the RSS' “Hindu Rashtra,” an objective that requires the systemic exclusion of those who do not fit its narrow mould.
The politics of neglect: A deliberate systemic failure
Since independence, English has grown steadily in India, primarily due to its neutral status. It served as a link language, fostering a sense of equality between the country's diverse linguistic groups. As fields like higher education, medicine, and the judiciary became increasingly inaccessible without it, parents’ aspiration to provide their children with an English education grew stronger.
However, political leaders rooted in cultural ideologies consistently failed to acknowledge this public demand, creating a vacuum that the private sector profitably exploited.
This modern class divide has deep historical roots. The Constitution originally envisioned a 15-year transition for Hindi to become the sole official language, a goal that proved unviable against fierce resistance. After that period lapsed, no suitable amendments were made to grant English co-equal status for development, nor was the original one-language policy officially relinquished.
This constitutional limbo has been conveniently exploited for decades. Leaders from Hindi-speaking regions have been resistant to resolving the issue, fearing backlash from their core electorate. By using vague terms like “our languages,” the current leadership is resurrecting these same settled conflicts, tearing at the fragile linguistic consensus that holds the nation together.
The human cost: Dignity, exclusion, and constitutional injustice
For the roughly 90% of Indians who lack English fluency, the consequences are devastating. It is a daily reality of humiliation and lost opportunities. The mental health crisis among students from marginalised backgrounds — including documented cases of depression and suicide linked to language-based barriers — is not an accident. It is the direct result of a policy of deliberate neglect.
When a student from a rural background enters higher education, their lack of English is used to brand them as incompetent, perpetuating cycles of discrimination. This is a failure of governance, and an affront to constitutional justice.
A government’s education policy, even if flawed, should never take away the possibility of a historically struggling child breaking the ceiling. Yet, by actively condemning English, the state is doing precisely that.
This retreat turns English into a high-value commodity sold by private schools to the privileged, while government schools are left with the status quo — no funds, no resources, and no hope of delivering genuine bilingual excellence.
The class divide is not just maintained; it is deliberately entrenched. For the sake of cultural politics, education is taken hostage, and millions of children are made the scapegoats.
English as a right, not a privilege
The time for empty rhetoric is over. The youth, civil society, and all progressive movements must unite to demand that English education be recognised as a fundamental right.
We need a national, institutional framework — a National Commission for English Development under the Union's Official Language Department, complemented by states enacting their own State-level Two-Language Commissions, mandated to develop both the state's official language and English, with guaranteed fund allocation.
While the BJP–RSS follows its words with institution-building to legalise its agenda, the opposition’s vocal but empty rebuttals have led to inaction. These commissions must be action-oriented bodies, forcing states to deliver language justice.
This is not just about language. This is a fight for equality, dignity, and a share in India’s future. Ultimately, the debate over English is a proxy for a much larger national crossroad: it is a choice between science and dogma, between reality and myth, between building a progressive future and romanticising a past glory.
Why not embrace a vision of India as a kaleidoscope, where each state views the nation through the colourful lens of its own language, with English serving as the functional thread that binds these vibrant views together? Who truly benefits from shattering this beautiful mosaic to impose a single colour?
Ra Shhiva is an advocate at the Madras High Court and the founder of Citizens for Law and Democracy (CLAD), a research-driven non-profit organisation focused on strengthening science education for children. Sabur Ali M holds a PhD in Political Science, and is the co-founder of CLAD.
Views expressed are the authors’ own.