The paradox of English: It is both a foreign tongue and a deeply embedded Indian language

Scroll.in

4 hours ago

Alongside their offensive against Urdu, India's language nationalists appear to have turned their ire on English. That is what one could conclude from the declaration by Union Home Minister Amit Shah at a book launch in New Delhi on Thursday, when he predicted that 'soon a time would come when those speaking English will feel ashamed'.
'In our lifetime, we will see a society in which those speaking English will feel ashamed, that day is not far,' he said. 'I believe that the languages of our country are the ornament of our culture. Without them, we would not have been Bharatiya. Our country, its history, its culture, our dharma – if these have to be understood, it cannot be done in foreign languages.'
Shah's statement quickly sparked a political backlash. Leader of the Opposition in the Lok Sabha, Rahul Gandhi, countered forcefully: '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.'
Other opposition figures, including Trinamool Congress leaders Derek O'Brien and Sagarika Ghose, echoed this sentiment, slamming the home minister for what they saw as a regressive and divisive stance.
Echoes of Mulayam Singh
Shah's remarks recall a moment 35 years ago when Mulayam Singh Yadav, who was then chief minister of Uttar Pradesh, launched his own crusade against English. In May 1990, Yadav infamously declared English to be 'the language of foreigners and the elite', blaming it for perpetuating socio-economic disparity and cultivating feelings of inferiority among non-English speakers. His one-point mission: Angrezi hatao. Banish English.
In a curious twist, Yadav, a self-declared supporter of Urdu urged Urdu-speaking communities to unite with Hindi speakers to oppose English. Urdu, having only recently been granted official status as Uttar Pradesh's second language, was now being weaponised against a new linguistic rival.
This contradiction is not out of character for Indian politics, where language often becomes a proxy for identity, power and culture.
The disdain for English in some Indian political circles can be traced back to the 1950s and '60s, to socialist leader Ram Manohar Lohia and even earlier, to Mohandas Gandhi and the Indian National Congress. Gandhi viewed English as an alien imposition that had displaced indigenous languages from their rightful place in Indian society.
At Independence, the Indian Constitution made Hindi the official language, but allowed English to continue for a transitional period of 15 years. This compromise was pragmatic, not sentimental. English was seen as a necessary link language in a culturally and linguistically diverse nation.
However, the efforts to impose Hindi on South India in the 1960s sparked widespread resistance and deepened the North-South linguistic divide. Even today, English continues to be viewed by many as a colonial vestige, despite its extensive indigenisation.
The Lohia doctrine
Lohia considered English to be not just a colonial leftover, but a barrier to original thought and mass education. He argued that true educational reform and people-oriented governance were possible only if conducted in the people's languages.
Recognising India's cultural diversity, Lohia made exceptions for South Indian states, allowing them to retain English for inter-state and central communication for 50 years. However, his nuanced vision was distorted by his followers. The anti-English frenzy gained renewed vigour in Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, leading to draconian steps like removing English from school curricula altogether.
In Bihar in the 1970s, Chief Minister Karpoori Thakur reduced English to an optional subject, resulting in a generation of students branded as the 'Karpoori class' – matriculates without English proficiency. Mulayam Singh Yadav resurrected the campaign in the 1990s, giving it a political legitimacy that had long-lasting social consequences.
Misplaced stereotypes
Yadav's campaign also triggered unwarranted attacks on Christian institutions, which were accused of using English as a tool for religious conversion and elitist education. This conflation of English with Christianity mirrors the equally irrational equation in the Hindi heartland of Urdu with Islam.
Such logic ignores the complex realities of Indian linguistic identity. English may have arrived with colonial Christians, but it soon became a key vehicle for political awakening and nation-building. It was through English that India's founding leaders – from Raja Rammohun Roy to Nehru – engaged with global currents of nationalism, democracy, liberty and modernity.
The same language, intended by the British to produce obedient clerks, ended up producing freedom fighters, thinkers and reformers who led India's struggle for independence.
More Indian than foreign?
Despite its origins, English in India has long shed its colonial skin. It is the medium of scientific advancement, legal systems, administrative governance and higher education. It has played a vital role in the country's post-Independence progress – particularly in the globalisation era.
Ironically, many politicians who publicly denounce English still prefer to send their children to English-medium schools. Even in the Hindi heartland, English remains a key administrative language. Today, English enjoys a paradoxical status: both a foreign tongue and a deeply embedded Indian language.
English is also the mother tongue of the Anglo Indian community, a recognised minority in India, and serves as an official language in states like Nagaland.
As globalisation continues to shape India's economic and cultural landscape, English remains the country's primary interface with the world. To treat it as a threat to Indian identity is to ignore the multifaceted reality of modern India.
Language should be a medium of unity, not a tool of discord. English, like all Indian languages, must be valued for its integrative potential, not vilified for its past.
The country does not need another round of linguistic chauvinism. Instead, India should recognise the multilingual richness of English – and the maturity to embrace it.