Opinion Not just the South, Hindi imposition threatens all regional languages
Languages seldom thrive when they are forced down the throat of an unwilling speaker. As Indians, we are one people who owe allegiance to and are equal before the Constitution, but in the protection of our cultural and linguistic rights, we are several peoples speaking several languages.
Leading the charge against the imposition of Hindi is Chief Minister M K Stalin. (Photo: X/ @mkstalin) Growing up in Gujarat, the concept of Gujarati asmita or Gujarati pride was often invoked by the people around me. We derived this pride from so many diverse things that made us Gujaratis — our culture, our dances, our food — but perhaps the most important aspect was the Gujarati language. Indeed, this pride in provincial language and culture was also monopolised by the BJP from the late 1990s.
I have been thinking a lot, having finished reading Salil Tripathi’s book The Gujaratis: A Portrait of a Community, but also in the context of the recent debate over the National Education Policy. The NEP debate has increasingly been shaped as an issue of North against the South.
Leading the charge against the imposition of Hindi is Chief Minister M K Stalin, who accused the central government of not releasing funds to Tamil Nadu on account of the state not adopting the three-language policy as proposed by the NEP, and instead sticking to two languages, namely Tamil and English. I often wonder what happened to the Gujarati asmita, and the linguistic pride brandished when Modi’s Gaurav Yatra played ‘Jai Jai Garvi Gujarat’. BJP-ruled Gujarat has perhaps fallen in line with this imposition. However, I wish to argue in this piece that this issue goes beyond the traditional framing of this debate, that it goes against the very conception of the constitutional idea of India.
Gujarat was separated from Maharashtra after the Mahagujarat Andolan along linguistic lines. A study of the post-Independence re-organisation of the states tells us that we are but a collection of several peoples, and India is a federation of states. The States Reorganisation Commission appointed in 1953, which argued for the creation of linguistic states, noted in its report: “The demand for linguistic states does not represent mere cultural revivalism. It has a wider purpose in that it seeks to secure for different linguistic groups political and economic justice.” Another peek into the idea of the framers comes from the memorandum titled ‘Maharashtra as a Linguistic Province’, submitted by B R Ambedkar to the Dhar Commission, which said, “The generality of those who advocate the creation of linguistic provinces do so because they believe that the provinces have different languages and cultures. They should therefore have the fullest scope to develop their languages and their cultures. In other words, the provinces have all the elements of a distinct nationality and they should be allowed the freedom to grow to their fullest in nationhood.”
Article 351 imposes a duty on the Union of India to promote the spread of the Hindi language. A study of the Constituent Assembly debates tells us that Laxminarayan Sahu, a member from Odisha, argued that Article 351 should also seek to promote the interest of every provincial language, and the same is crucial for the development of the nation. Given the textual interpretation of Article 351, the Union cannot force a state to teach Hindi in state schools under duress by depriving it of education funds. If the Union chooses to promote Hindi, it is well within its rights to do so by the wide powers vested in it by the Constitution. However, Article 351 does not give it the power to force a state to do so. Assuming that the Union wanted to use its coercive power to issue directions to the state under Article 256, it cannot do so since the power only extends to a law enacted by Parliament or by the state legislature, of which the NEP is neither.
Second, let us look at Article 29 of the Constitution. It reads as follows: “Any section of the citizens residing in the territory of India or any part thereof having a distinct language, script or culture of its own shall have the right to conserve the same.” Article 29 ought to be read in light of the above stated ideas of the Constitution. The phrase “any section of citizens” would include people living not just in Tamil Nadu, but also in Gujarat, Maharashtra, Assam, Bengal, Punjab, and others. They have a right to protect and conserve their language and script, and the state government is nothing but the representative of the people of the state.
Languages seldom thrive when they are forced down the throat of an unwilling speaker. As Indians, we are one people who owe allegiance to and are equal before the Constitution, but in the protection of our cultural and linguistic rights, we are several peoples speaking several languages, worshipping several gods, eating different foods and wearing different clothes. The larger political and cultural project here is the creation of a homogeneous identity while erasing all others that do not fit into that mould. To do so is a fool’s errand. The protagonist in Alphonse Daudet’s short story, ‘The Last Lesson’, makes a poignant remark when his French teacher is removed during World War II and German teaching is made mandatory in France, “Will they make them sing in German, even the pigeons?” I wonder the same about Hindi.
Bhatt is the author of The Urban Elite v Union of India and a lawyer practising in the Supreme Court of India.
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