Language is identity, imagination, and belonging—without it, democracy is hollow

Preamble

 From Freedom to Fragmentation

The Soul of a Nation Is Its Language

Language is not merely a tool of communication—it is the repository of a people’s memory, the architecture of their imagination, and the heartbeat of their culture. To speak in one’s native tongue is to inhabit one’s truth fully; to be denied that tongue is to be exiled from one’s own identity.

When native languages are marginalized, cultures begin to erode—not through conquest, but through quiet dislocation. India, a civilization of staggering linguistic richness, now stands at a precipice. The dominance of English among the elite 2% has created a linguistic oligarchy, where power is spoken in a tongue foreign to the vast majority. This is not progress—it is a democratic crisis, where 98% of the population is linguistically disenfranchised, and therefore politically diminished.

In 1947, India rose as a free nation. The struggle for independence had united millions across languages and dialects. There was no barrier of tongue—whether Bengali, Tamil, Punjabi, Marathi, Urdu, or Hindi, the cry was one: Swaraj. The fight was for freedom, not for linguistic supremacy.

But independence carried a paradox. Soon after freedom, democracy itself began to fracture along linguistic lines. Barely 1–2% of Indians knew English fluently, yet this minority seized the reins of governance. English, once the colonial instrument, became the “neutral link” of administration, law, and education. What was meant as a temporary compromise hardened into a permanent hierarchy.

Thus, the promise of democracy was diminished. The vote was universal, but the voice unequal. The majority—98% of Indians—were silenced in their own democracy, exiled from the corridors of power by a language they did not inhabit.

Introduction

The Language of Power, the Silence of the Majority

India calls itself the world’s largest democracy—but beneath the surface of electoral rituals lies a profound contradiction: the language of governance is not the language of the governed. English, spoken fluently by less than 5% of the population, dominates the corridors of power—from Parliament and the Supreme Court to corporate boardrooms and elite universities.

The remaining 95–98% of Indians, though rich in native languages and dialects, are structurally excluded from the institutions that shape their lives. Their tongues are deemed insufficient for law, policy, or prestige. This is not a benign legacy of colonialism—it is a living architecture of exclusion

India calls itself the world’s largest democracy. Yet beneath the rituals of elections lies a profound contradiction: the language of governance is not the language of the governed.

  • Freedom Struggle Unity: During the independence movement, language was no obstacle. The masses fought together, speaking in their native tongues, bound by the shared dream of liberation.
  • Post-Independence Divide: After 1947, English became the language of law, Parliament, and universities. Less than 5% of Indians spoke it fluently, but this elite minority monopolized access to power.
  • Democratic Crisis: The remaining 95–98%—rich in native languages—were structurally excluded. Their tongues were deemed insufficient for policy, law, or prestige. This was not progress, but a linguistic oligarchy, where democracy itself was diminished by exclusion.

Language is not merely communication—it is identity, imagination, and belonging. To deny a people their tongue is to exile them from their truth. India’s democracy, by privileging English, has created a paradox: sovereignty proclaimed in 1947, but linguistic sovereignty denied ever since.

Abstract

This essay argues that India’s democracy is in crisis because of a linguistic divide: the dominance of English among a small elite (2–5%) versus the disenfranchisement of the vast majority (95–98%). Drawing on historical roots, case studies, cultural consequences, and policy failures, it demonstrates how English functions as a gatekeeper of power, perpetuating inequality and eroding cultural identity. The essay concludes with reformist proposals for multilingual governance and a manifesto for reclaiming the tongues of the people.

Historical Roots

From Colonial Tool to Postcolonial Trap

Under British rule, English was imposed to create a class of intermediaries—educated Indians who could serve colonial interests. Thomas Macaulay’s 1835 Minute on Indian Education explicitly aimed to produce “a class of persons Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste.”

Post-independence, instead of dismantling this hierarchy, India’s elite entrenched it. English remained the language of governance, judiciary, and higher education. Attempts to promote Hindi sparked resistance, especially in southern states, leading to a compromise that kept English as an “associate official language”—a status that has only grown stronger over time.

The Architecture of Exclusion: Case Studies

  •  Justice in a Foreign Tongue
    Supreme Court proceedings are conducted almost entirely in English. Less than 10% of Indians can understand legal English, yet verdicts affecting millions are delivered in it.
  •  Education and Linguistic Displacement
    English-medium schools are aspirational, but alienating. UNESCO reports show that children taught in non-native languages often experience lower comprehension and retention.
  •  Digital Governance and Linguistic Gatekeeping
    Platforms like CoWIN and Aarogya Setu prioritized English and Hindi, excluding millions of rural users during the pandemic.
  •  The Slow Erasure of Punjabi
    Despite being Punjab’s official language, Punjabi is losing ground to Hindi and English in urban spaces. Cultural pride persists, but daily usage declines.
  •  Urdu: From Elegance to Marginalisation
    Urdu faces systemic neglect—underfunded schools, politicized identity, and declining media presence. Once the language of poetry and resistance, it is now reduced to a communal marker.

Cultural Consequences and Identity Displacement

Language loss severs intergenerational ties, inhibits emotional depth, and breeds cultural inferiority. Children raised in English-medium environments often cannot speak with their grandparents. Native idioms and oral histories vanish. Youth face identity fragmentation—fluent in ambition, but illiterate in heritage.

Policy Critique and Reform

  •  The Myth of Neutrality
    English is defended as “neutral,” but functions as a class barrier. Regional languages lack institutional support.
  • Three-Language Formula: A Broken Scaffold
    Implementation is uneven and coercive. Southern states resist Hindi; northern states neglect regional tongues.
  • Translation Infrastructure: A National Failure
    India lacks robust systems to translate legal, academic, and literary content into regional languages.
  •  Reform Proposals
    • Constitutional guarantees for linguistic equity
    • Decentralized language policy
    • Multilingual governance and judiciary
    • Cultural investment in translation and media

The Illusion of Growth: English as Empire, Aspiration, and Erasure

English, born of empire, is now internalized as aspiration. Parents abandon native languages believing English secures futures. But fluency often brings alienation, not empowerment. Other languages like Tamil, Bengali, and Malayalam develop in resistance—not dignity. Punjabi and Urdu slip out of the power play, reduced to ornamentation.

Exploding the Myth: English ≠ Growth

A persistent illusion haunts India’s democracy: that if we step out of English domination, our growth will stall and life will become more difficult. This myth is not only false—it is dangerous, because it chains progress to exclusion.

1. Colonial Residue, Not Democratic Necessity

English was imposed by the British to create intermediaries for empire, not innovators for India. Macaulay’s 1835 Minute on Education sought to produce “a class of persons Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste.” To equate English with growth is to mistake colonial control for democratic empowerment.

2. Global Evidence of Native-Language Growth

•            Japan, South Korea, China: None made English their primary language of governance or education. Yet they became global economic powers by nurturing science, technology, and culture in their own tongues.

•            Europe: Germany, France, Italy—all conduct governance and higher education in native languages, while teaching English as a foreign language for global exchange. Their growth did not stall.

•            South Africa: A multilingual democracy shows that inclusion strengthens governance, not weakens it.

3. India’s Own Reality

Barely 2–5% of Indians are fully proficient in English, yet India has grown into the world’s fifth-largest economy. Growth has been driven by agriculture, manufacturing, and services—sectors where native languages dominate daily life. English is useful for global trade, but it is not the engine of domestic growth. Farmers, artisans, and workers build India in their own tongues.

4. The False Fear of Difficulty

The myth says: Without English, life will be difficult.

The truth: Life is already difficult for the 98% excluded from governance because of English. Real difficulty lies in navigating courts, universities, and government portals in a language most cannot read or write. Removing English domination would reduce difficulty, not increase it—by making governance accessible in native tongues.

5. The Real Path Forward

•            English as a tool, not a master: Teach English as a second language for global exchange, but conduct governance, law, and education in native languages.

•            Multilingual empowerment: Growth comes from inclusion—when citizens can innovate, litigate, and participate in their own tongues.

•            Technology as bridge: AI translation, multilingual apps, and digital platforms can ensure no one is excluded.

6.  Sharp Indictment

“The myth that English equals growth is a colonial illusion. Nations thrive in their own tongues. India’s democracy will thrive not by silencing 98% of its people, but by empowering them to speak, learn, and govern in the languages of their lives.”

 Final Reflection and  Call to Action

Reclaiming the Tongue of Democracy

Democracy cannot survive in translation. India’s democracy cannot be complete until governance speaks in the tongues of its people. To reclaim the native tongue is to reclaim identity, dignity, and belonging. The struggle for independence was fought without linguistic barriers; the struggle for democracy must now dismantle the linguistic oligarchy.


For seventy-five years, India has lived with a paradox: sovereignty proclaimed in 1947, but sovereignty denied in language. The vote is universal, but the voice unequal. The corridors of power echo in English, while the streets resound in the tongues of the people. This is not democracy—it is oligarchy disguised as progress.

We must dismantle the linguistic oligarchy.

  • Governance in People’s Languages: Laws, policies, and judgments must be available in every major Indian language. Courts must speak in the tongues of those they serve.
  • Education in Mother Tongues: Children must learn first in the language of their home. English can be taught, but never imposed as the price of dignity.
  • Digital Inclusion: Every government platform must be multilingual, ensuring that no citizen is excluded from access to health, welfare, or rights.
  • Cultural Investment: Urdu, Punjabi, and other marginalized languages must be revived through media, publishing, and education. Translation must become a national mission.

We must reimagine democracy as multilingual.
India’s strength lies not in homogenization but in plurality. To govern in one language is to diminish; to govern in many is to empower. The heartbeat of democracy must be polyphonic, carrying the cadences of Tamil, Bengali, Marathi, Malayalam, Punjabi, Urdu, and hundreds more.

We must reclaim the tongue of the people.
Parents must resist the illusion that English alone secures futures. Writers must create in their native tongues. Citizens must demand governance in their languages. Democracy must be rebuilt not in the idiom of empire, but in the voices of its people.

Manifesto Line

“Democracy beyond the 2% means democracy in the languages of the 98%. To reclaim our tongues is to reclaim our truth.”

Democracy beyond the 2% means democracy in the languages of the 98%.

..

Footnotes

  1. Thomas Macaulay, Minute on Indian Education (1835).
  2. Abusina Biswas, The Politics of English: Debates on Language Policy in Independent India.
  3. Ajit K. Mohanty, Languages, Inequality, and Marginalization in India.
  4. UNESCO, Mother Tongue Instruction and Learning Outcomes (Global Education Monitoring Report).
    1. Jaya Ranjan et al., Cultural and Linguistic Implications of English Dominance in India (2024).
  5. EF English Proficiency Index (2024): India ranked #69 globally, with “moderate proficiency.”

#LanguageJustice #DemocracyInTongues #BeyondThe2Percent #VoiceOfThe98 #EndLinguisticOligarchy #TongueOfThePeople

Appendix: Expanded Case Studies in Linguistic Disempowerment

1. Justice in a Foreign Tongue

The Supreme Court of India conducts its proceedings almost entirely in English. In 2019, a plea to allow Hindi in proceedings was rejected, with the Court citing “uniformity” and “neutrality.” Yet less than 10% of Indians can understand legal English. For millions, justice is delivered in a language they cannot comprehend.

Consider a villager from Bihar or Tamil Nadu: he may win or lose a case without ever understanding the arguments or the verdict. His fate is mediated through lawyers and translators, stripping him of direct access to his rights. Ajit Mohanty calls this “linguistic inequality in law,” where English proficiency becomes a prerequisite for justice. The paradox is stark—democracy promises equality before law, but language ensures inequality in practice.

2. Education and Linguistic Displacement

English-medium schools are aspirational, but alienating. Parents believe English secures futures, yet UNESCO’s Global Education Monitoring Report shows that children taught in non-native languages often score lower in comprehension and retention.

Take a child in Odisha: she learns science in English but cannot explain it to her parents in Odia. Knowledge becomes alienated from lived experience, creating a gap between ambition and identity. Mohanty’s “double divide” highlights how English-medium education privileges the elite while displacing native tongues. The result is a generation fluent in ambition but illiterate in heritage.

3. Digital Governance and Linguistic Gatekeeping

During the COVID-19 pandemic, platforms like CoWIN and Aarogya Setu prioritized English and Hindi. Millions of rural users in Tamil Nadu, West Bengal, and Assam struggled to register for vaccines or access health information.

A farmer in Tamil Nadu, literate only in Tamil, was excluded from digital health services. Language became a barrier to survival. Reports by the Internet Freedom Foundation criticized this exclusion, calling for multilingual digital infrastructure. In moments of crisis, linguistic gatekeeping became a matter of life and death.

4. The Slow Erasure of Punjabi

Punjabi is Punjab’s official language, yet urban schools increasingly prioritize Hindi and English. Government offices often default to Hindi.

Young Punjabis in cities grow up speaking Hindi or English, while Punjabi retreats to rural areas and cultural festivals. The language of Guru Nanak risks becoming ornamental rather than functional. Sociolinguistic studies confirm Punjabi’s decline in urban domains, despite its cultural pride. The erosion is subtle but steady—an identity displaced by the prestige of English.

5. Urdu: From Elegance to Marginalisation

Urdu, once the language of poetry, resistance, and refinement, now faces systemic neglect. Urdu-medium schools are underfunded, and its presence in media has declined sharply.

A generation of Urdu speakers finds their language politicized, reduced to a communal marker rather than a universal cultural asset. Tariq Rahman and other scholars argue that Urdu’s decline is tied to political identity struggles, not linguistic merit. The tragedy is that a language of beauty and resistance has been confined to narrow identity politics, stripped of its universal dignity

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