Language of politics

In post-colonial India, debates over the English language have evolved into a recurring contest deeply entangled with identity politics. Far more than a matter of pragmatic utility, English is burdened with the historical memory of colonial subjugation-a legacy that continues to divide opinion and stir strong sentiments. For many, the language is an ever-present reminder of cultural domination, while for others, especially proponents of regional languages, its pervasive influence is perceived as a direct threat to the country’s vibrant linguistic diversity and distinct cultural identities. Tracing its roots to the colonial period, English gradually replaced indigenous systems of knowledge and education, not just as a pedagogical shift but as a deliberate act of erasure and elite privileging. After 1947, newly independent India grappled with the urgent issue of linguistic identity in nation-building. Hindi was initially proposed as the “natural” glue to bind the multilingual republic. But strong resistance from non-Hindi-speaking states-most notably in the South and Northeast-laid bare the impossibility of linguistic homogeneity without igniting fears of cultural erasure. Thus, English survived-promoted as a “neutral” language of government and higher education, yet still viewed with suspicion for its colonial and elitist baggage. The implications of English go beyond culture; they are socioeconomic. Proficiency in English quickly became a passport to upward mobility: gaining access to jobs, higher education, and cosmopolitan circles. Yet, this advantage also crystallized India’s internal class divides, with urban Indians advancing and vast rural populations left behind, their access to opportunity constrained by limited English exposure. Critics charge that the continued prominence of English entrenches inequalities and excludes non-English speakers from the modern economy. Nonetheless, the argument persists that English is indispensable; its role as the global lingua franca underpins India’s success in information technology, academia, diplomacy, and international business. So, why does the anxiety over English persist decades after independence? The answer lies in the charged arena of identity politics. Advocates of regional languages fear that English will marginalize native literatures and cultural heritage. For countless communities, language is integral to selfhood: defending it is not just an act of nostalgia, but a safeguard against further erasure. Political parties-both regional and national-are acutely aware of these undercurrents. At times, they stoke anti-English (or, alternately, anti-Hindi) sentiment to galvanize support and assert regional autonomy, especially where Hindiization is viewed as cultural imperialism. Nowhere is this dynamic more pronounced than in South India, where opposition to Hindi has ironically fostered a greater embrace of English. For many in the South, resisting Hindi symbolizes a broader fight against perceived northern domination and caste-based hegemony. In this complex landscape, English often emerges-however reluctantly-as the default language of common ground, even as its prominence reopens old wounds. The true challenge before the nation is not choosing between English and regional languages, but finding a thoughtful balance that honors both. English remains essential to India’s global ambitions and progress, but its continued dominance must not come at the expense of nurturing Indian languages in literature, education, and daily life. To sustain both cosmopolitan progress and cultural rootedness, India must ensure its linguistic future is one of coexistence and creative hybridity rather than acrimonious competition.