Latest news with #Angrezi
Hindustan Times
5 days ago
- Politics
- Hindustan Times
Language row attempts to revive a dead horse
It was the 'swinging sixties' in Allahabad (present-day Prayagraj). British rule had ended two decades ago, but in a city teeming with the old gentry, the colonial ways were still visible. The Civil Lines observed the tradition of a lunch break, and in many shops, salesmen wearing ties could be found speaking in English with their esteemed, genteel customers. The city was proud of its university, dubbed the Oxford of the East. The Indian Civil Service had been rechristened as the Indian Administrative Service (IAS). Yet the nomenclature change did nothing to dampen its power or its regalia. Admission to Allahabad University was considered the essential first step towards realising the goal of cracking the civil services examination. The city hosted many poets and writers. The city had enough reasons to feel snooty and entitled. In such an atmosphere, the residents woke up to a surprise one day when they saw slogans written in coal tar on the walls of the local church, convent schools, and some other prominent places debunking the English language exhorting, 'Angrezi hatao, Bharat bachao' (remove English and save the country). In the initial days, people failed to fathom the long-term impact of a larger movement. The anti-English campaign was the brainchild of socialist leader Ram Manohar Lohia, who initiated it in 1957. It took a decade to gather steam, and received the support of the Jana Sangh and other political parties. Sensing an imminent public outcry, then Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri made some critical moves in support of Hindi, leading to violent reactions in the Southern states, resulting in 70 cases of self-immolation or death by poisoning. Some died in the police firing on the protestors. In 1967, for the first time, assembly elections led to the formation of non-Congress governments in eight states. The language row played a key role in this outcome. It shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone. Language is the repository of our cultural moorings, and we shouldn't blame people if they feel emotionally attached to it, considering language as an integral part of their identity. Language played a pivotal role in the formation of the states of Himachal Pradesh and Haryana, both once a part of Punjab province. While creating these two states, Indira Gandhi wouldn't have imagined in her wildest dreams that the decision would in later years provide impetus to the rise of terrorism in Punjab. Earlier, the mobilisation to create Andhra Pradesh, based on Telugu linguistic identity, witnessed extreme violence. Let's return to Allahabad. While studying in the state inter college from class 6 to class 8, Hindi, English, and one regional Indian language were compulsory for all the students. I chose Bangla. I am proud that through Bangla, I was able to connect with a great civilisation, its writers, their intellectual depth, philosophy, history, and the nuances of the Independence Movement. The Bangla language and Bengali people helped shape my personality. This is the reason I was happy when the government of India launched the tri-language formula with some minor tweaks. I firmly believe that every young Indian, along with their mother tongue, should be well-versed in one regional language and in English. There is no better way to bring Indians closer to their Indian roots. As far as English is concerned, let there be no doubt about its relevance and effectiveness in the age of Artificial Intelligence. But politics and politicians are on a different tangent. This is the reason we witnessed the spectacle of Uddhav Thackeray and his estranged cousin, Raj, coming together on a public stage, 19 years after parting ways. They insisted they weren't against Hindi, but Marathi should be given its due and respected in Maharashtra. But is it the case? If there was consistency in their words and deeds, they wouldn't have uploaded viral videos of thugs beating unsuspecting shop owners, insisting that they speak in Marathi. While addressing his workers, Raj Thackrey told them that they can rough up those who fail to speak Marathi, but they shouldn't make and upload videos of this. It's a strange way of showing love for your language. Unfortunately, this malady is spreading quickly in the neighbouring state of Karnataka. The cyber city of Bengaluru witnessed public shaming of Hindi-speaking people when they failed to speak in Kannada. I believe that those who relocate to a new state should make the effort to learn the local language, but perpetrating violence against those who can't speak the language is not only unconstitutional but a dangerous trend for the nation. These incidents have opened a personal wound. In 1980, I went to Calcutta (present-day Kolkata) for the first time. At that time, whenever you asked the locals for an address, they would rebuff you, saying they didn't know Hindi. At such times, I would wonder, I could talk in Bengali, but how will anyone survive in the metropolis if they don't know the local language? During the coverage of the Punjab insurgency, I found that people in rural areas had difficulty understanding Hindi. However, during the last two decades, the winds of encouraging change have been blowing in the southern states. Hindi Heartland isn't far behind. Some months ago, when southern superstar Allu Arjun came to Patna, a huge crowd gathered to welcome him. Can we attribute the miracle to central government services, the old tri-language formula, and the culture of corporatisation? The Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh has tried to douse the flames of the language row by insisting that every Indian language is a national language. However, the moot point is whether politicians will stop fomenting trouble? It pays to remember the language controversy has lost its sting. It can help a politician hiss, but doesn't offer enough political venom to bite. Shashi Shekhar is editor-in-chief, Hindustan. The views expressed are personal
The Wire
25-06-2025
- Politics
- The Wire
Amit Shah's Jibe at English Speakers Revives Old Fault Lines of Linguistic Politics in India
Hasnain Naqvi 3 minutes ago From Gandhi to Shah, the debate over English has never really ended – yet India's linguistic future may depend on embracing rather than erasing the global language. In a strikingly provocative remark made during a book launch in New Delhi recently, Union home minister Amit Shah stirred the waters of India's linguistic politics by claiming that the day would soon come when people speaking English in India 'feel ashamed'. Reaffirming his commitment to native languages, Shah stated, 'The languages of our country are the ornament of our culture. Without them, we would not have been Bharatiya… Our history, our culture, our Dharma – these cannot be understood in foreign languages.' The backlash was swift. Leader of the opposition in Lok Sabha, Rahul Gandhi, countered Shah's remarks by championing English as an enabler: 'English is not a dam, it is a bridge. English is not shameful, it is empowering. English is not a chain – it is a tool to break the chains.' Prominent Trinamool Congress figures such as Derek O'Brien and Sagarika Ghose also condemned Shah's statement, accusing him of inflaming old divisions under the guise of cultural authenticity. Shah's controversial comment has revived a debate that has defined the linguistic and cultural tensions of India since independence. The ghost of 'Angrezi hatao ' returns Shah's remarks bear an uncanny resemblance to those made 35 years ago by former Uttar Pradesh chief minister Mulayam Singh Yadav. In May 1990, Yadav launched a crusade against English, labelling it 'the language of foreigners and the elite' and accusing it of deepening socio-economic inequalities. His ' Angrezi hatao ' (remove English) campaign was not just linguistic – it was ideological. In a strategic twist, Yadav had called upon opponents of Urdu to ally with Urdu speakers in opposing English, although Urdu itself had just been granted official status and remained a source of contention in Uttar Pradesh politics. This linguistic paradox underscores a persistent theme in India's political landscape: language becomes a battleground for identity, power and ideology. In this context, English – much like Urdu – has become a scapegoat for political anxieties. From Gandhi to Lohia to today The roots of anti-English sentiment go back to the nationalist leaders of the pre-Independence era. Mahatma Gandhi and the Indian National Congress viewed English as a colonial imposition that disrupted India's native cultural matrix. Post-independence, the Indian constitution declared Hindi as the official language, while English was retained temporarily as a link language to accommodate India's vast linguistic diversity. The tension between ideology and pragmatism became evident when Ram Manohar Lohia, a prominent socialist, took up the ' Angrezi hatao ' cause in the 1960s. Lohia believed that English hindered original thought and prevented mass education. His solution was to replace English with regional languages in education, governance and the judiciary. Yet, even he recognised the practical challenges: he granted special status to southern Indian states, allowing them to retain English for inter-state and central communication for 50 years. Unfortunately, Lohia's nuanced position was later distorted by his political followers. In Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, anti-English policies reached absurd levels. Bihar's then chief minister Karpoori Thakur reduced English to an optional subject in schools, giving rise to what was dubbed the 'Karpoori class' – students who completed matriculation without any proficiency in English. Mulayam Singh Yadav revived this campaign in the 1990s, leading to a new wave of politicised language policy and social unrest. Linguistic chauvinism and religious stereotyping The anti-English fervour also spilled over into religious targeting. Christian educational institutions – many of which served non-English-speaking students – were baselessly accused of using English to promote religious conversions and elitism. This is as illogical as equating Urdu with Islam, a tendency also prevalent in northern India's linguistic nationalism. Such conflations ignore India's intricate linguistic heritage and fail to grasp the multi-layered identities of its citizens. English, though introduced by colonial rulers, became a platform for political awakening and social reform. India's foundational political and philosophical ideas – from nationalism and democracy to equality and justice – were often accessed and articulated through English. The dual identity of English in India Initially intended to produce a class of English-educated clerks, English education inadvertently fostered a Western-educated middle class that birthed India's national movement. Thinkers and leaders like Raja Rammohun Roy, Dadabhai Naoroji, Gopal Krishna Gokhale, Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru all received their intellectual grounding through the English language. Today, English is more than a foreign language – it is part of India's linguistic and cultural ecosystem. It is the official language of states like Nagaland and the mother tongue of a recognised linguistic minority. In metropolitan centres like Mumbai, Delhi, Kolkata, Bengaluru, Chennai and Hyderabad, English is the preferred language of commerce, administration and even cultural expression. It is secular, cosmopolitan and unifying – qualities that align with the pluralistic ethos of the Indian Republic. The hypocrisy of anti-English politics Despite the fervent rhetoric against English, most political leaders – including those advocating for its removal – choose English-medium education for their own children. This contradiction reflects the undeniable truth: in globalised India, English is the passport to higher education, job opportunities, international diplomacy and technological innovation. Statistical trends show English leading in sectors like education, industry and administration – even in the Hindi heartland. It is the language of science, law and governance. India's tech boom, international trade relations and higher education landscape are all heavily reliant on English proficiency. Ironically, while vilifying English for political mileage, many of its opponents privately benefit from its advantages. This duplicity not only weakens the credibility of their arguments but also threatens national cohesion by reanimating dormant linguistic fault lines. A call for coexistence India's multilingualism is a strength, not a burden. Rather than demonising English as a colonial leftover, leaders should celebrate its evolution into a powerful Indian instrument for global interaction and internal inclusion. English, today, is no longer the language of the coloniser – it is the language of aspiration, innovation and communication. Amit Shah's comments, while politically charged, risk reigniting a divisive discourse that India cannot afford today. Instead of swimming against the tide of progress, the nation must embrace a model of linguistic coexistence where English and all other Indian languages are seen as complementary rather than adversarial. Language, after all, is meant to be a bridge – not a battlefield. Hasnain Naqvi is a former member of the history faculty at St. Xavier's College, Mumbai. This is the first part of a two-part series on the revival of the debate on linguistic politics in India. The Wire is now on WhatsApp. Follow our channel for sharp analysis and opinions on the latest developments.
