Hindi, English, and the Constitution: Examining language use in government communication

The Hindu

28-05-2025

When India's Constituent Assembly debated the language question, they grappled with a challenge that would define our republic's character: how to unite a multilingual nation with the idea of equality without diminishing its diversity. The solution they crafted wasn't merely pragmatic; it was profound in its recognition that true national unity requires respect for difference. Today, as a homemaker in Salem or a small business owner in Nagaland confronts central government schemes wrapped in Sanskritised Hindi terminology, this carefully constructed constitutional balance appears increasingly fragile.
The Union government's growing predilection for Hindi and Sanskrit-centric naming in official schemes and legislation isn't merely about nomenclature — it strikes at the heart of citizen-state communication. While Hindi is recognised as the official language of the Union government, the Constitution deliberately made English an associate official language with equal, and often more significant, importance. This was not a casual decision, but a carefully negotiated compromise born out of the fight for linguistic rights, demanded by the majority of States to protect their linguistic identities.
Indeed, among India's 28 States and 8 Union Territories, only nine — Bihar, Chhattisgarh, Haryana, Himachal Pradesh, Jharkhand, Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, and Uttarakhand — recognise Hindi alongside their regional language(s). Several UTs, including Delhi, Jammu and Kashmir, and Ladakh, also list Hindi with English or other local tongues. Many States have multiple official languages, while English remains key for inter-state communication. The remaining States and UTs rely on their linguistic traditions or English. This underscores the linguistic plurality that shaped our constitutional framework and highlights the need for a truly inclusive language policy.
A declaration by the Union Home Minister epitomises the deeper challenges of linguistic governance. The announcement that 70% of the cabinet agenda is now prepared exclusively in Hindi raises fundamental questions about administrative inclusivity and representation. Recently, Tamil Nadu Chief Minister M. K. Stalin raised the issue of central schemes and legislation being given Hindi names exclusively.
Procedural obstacles
This results in ministerial representation barriers — Home Minister from a non-Hindi-speaking region would face substantial functional challenges; preparing and comprehending 70% of critical government documents becomes inherently difficult; and effectively creates a linguistic filter that restricts full administrative participation.
It also creates procedural comprehension obstacles; for instance, non-Hindi speaking cabinet members would require extensive translation support; real-time decision-making becomes complicated when primary documentation is not in a commonly understood language; creates an unequal information processing environment within the highest decision-making body.
It also raises the question of constitutional integrity, as it contradicts the constitutional provision of ensuring equal official language status; systematically disadvantages representatives from linguistic regions outside the Hindi belt; and transforms an administrative tool (language) into a potential barrier to governance.
Ultra vires to Constitutional provisions
By suggesting Hindi should be an alternative to English, the approach becomes fundamentally ultra vires to the constitutional provision that grants both Hindi and English equal official status. How can a home minister from Tamil Nadu, Kerala, or the Northeast effectively lead when ministry communications are predominantly in Hindi? Does this not introduce a linguistic prerequisite never intended in our constitutional framework?
The roles of an official language and a national language are fundamentally distinct. Sociolinguistic scholars like Eastman (2001) and Kelman have long recognised this distinction: an official language serves pragmatic administrative functions, facilitating governance and public service delivery. Conversely, a national language embodies cultural identity, connecting people to their heritage and fostering a shared sense of belonging. While the official language plays an instrumental role in navigating socioeconomic structures, the national language carries profound cultural and emotional weight. It is a symbol of shared history, traditions, and collective identity.
Given this distinction, when more than half of India's population neither speaks nor follows Hindi regularly, how does an exclusively Hindi nomenclature serve these essential functions? The Department of Official Language has systematically blurred the critical constitutional distinction between an official and national language. When schemes or criminal law reforms are named exclusively in Sanskrit-influenced Hindi, the department fails its primary constitutional responsibility.
This trend is evident in the naming of numerous central schemes: 'Swachh Bharat Abhiyan' instead of 'Clean India Mission,' 'Ayushman Bharat' rather than 'Healthy India,' and 'Pradhan Mantri Kisan Samman Nidhi' in place of 'Prime Minister's Farmer's Honour Fund.'
Thrust on cultural significance of Sanskrit
More critically, recent criminal law reforms have been particularly problematic. Laws like the Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (replacing the Indian Penal Code), Bharatiya Nagrik Suraksha Sanhita (replacing the Criminal Procedure Code), and Bharatiya Sakshya Adhiniyam (replacing the Evidence Act) are named exclusively in Sanskritised Hindi, effectively creating linguistic barriers in accessing fundamental legal frameworks.
The names of the Union government's schemes and laws are not designed to be easily understood by the public but instead aim to emphasise the cultural significance of Sanskrit. However, by its definition, the Department of Official Language is tasked with ensuring accessibility and clarity. In other words, government schemes and initiatives should prioritise the practical benefits for the people, addressing their needs rather than focusing on heritage, traditions, or emotional associations. While the Department of Official Language is expected to adhere to this guiding principle, it often deviates from its purpose by working to establish the cultural significance of Sanskrit or Hindi, without regard for its defined role.
This is particularly evident in regions like Tamil Nadu, where the state, its citizens — like most of the non-Hindi regions —communicates with the Union exclusively in English — a practice explicitly reaffirmed by the Constitution. With an exceedingly small number of Sanskrit speakers in India, naming laws and schemes in Sanskrit provides no practical benefit to the population at large.
The Prime Minister's practices sometimes acknowledge this reality — his English tweets commemorating Thiruvalluvar Day, for instance, demonstrate an awareness that reaching Tamil citizens requires linguistic accommodation. Yet, this sensitivity seems conspicuously absent when naming critical criminal laws and government schemes.
This isn't about opposing Hindi, which rightfully holds pride of place among India's official languages, but about preserving a system that all States willingly embraced. Each Indian language carries centuries of cultural heritage worthy of celebration. Yet in our constitutionally plural society, cultural promotion cannot override administrative inclusivity.
Undermines equality
The recent incident of protests against Hindi signage on the Karnataka metro starkly illustrates how aggressive linguistic imposition triggers defensive reactions. When an official language becomes a symbol of cultural dominance, rather than serving as a neutral tool for administrative communication, it undermines the equality guaranteed to all languages and their speakers within the nation and risks disrupting the federal balance.
The Department of Official Language must ensure that English official names are not just available, but actively disseminated and made accessible, particularly in non-Hindi regions. This is not about opposing Hindi, but about upholding the constitutional directive of ensuring communication reaches every citizen.
The path forward requires recommitment to our constitutional wisdom. If the Centre wishes to use Hindi or Sanskrit titles for pan-Indian initiatives, it must simultaneously provide official English equivalents—not as a linguistic compromise inherited from the past, but as a carefully negotiated administrative framework that ensures nationwide communication accessibility.
India's unity emerges not from linguistic uniformity but from mutual respect and accommodation. When non-Hindi speakers encounter Hindi-only scheme names and legislation, it creates not just practical barriers but emotional distance from central governance. This alienation threatens the constitutional principle of equality for all citizens, undermining the linguistic harmony it strives to uphold.
As we navigate these challenges, we must remember that language policy reflects deeper questions about our democratic character. Will we uphold the constitutional vision that united diverse linguistic communities in common purpose? Or will we allow administrative practices to privilege one language at the expense of national unity? The answer lies in reclaiming the spirit of inclusive governance that our Constitution envisions—where every Indian, regardless of mother tongue, feels equally valued in their engagement with the state.
For in a nation founded on 'We, the People of India,' the official language policy must reflect not just constitutional mandates but the wisdom of our founding compromise: that true national unity flourishes not through imposition but through respect for diversity, not through uniformity but through carefully crafted accommodations that bind us together as equal partners in our democratic journey.