EDITORIAL
For the country’s unity and diversity, multilingualism needs promotion and protection
News coming in from our neighbouring state says Maharashtra has cancelled a resolution on the three-language policy, even while it was facing accusations over “imposition” of Hindi. This follows a strong debate on its language policy. The Devendra Fadnavis-led government finally cancelled its government resolution in favour of a three-language policy. A government-appointed Language Advisory Committee resolved that no third language, including Hindi, should be taught to students before they reach Standard V. Earlier, Mumbai had issued an order stating that Hindi would “generally” be taught from Std I to V as a third language to students of Marathi and English-medium schools. Students (if there were at least 20 per class) were also given the choice to study any Indian language other than Hindi.
Obviously, there’s a lot of jostling going on here. It might seem like a simple matter, one of equipping our young ones with more linguistic skills and making it easier for people from different parts of the vast country to work together. But no.
Language in India is not only a medium of communication, but also a marker of identity, privilege, and exclusion, as historian Romila Thapar has argued. Writer Arundhati Roy also makes a strong point when she argues, “English is not neutral in India. It divides. It excludes. And yet, ironically, it is also the only language that allows the marginalised to challenge power at a national scale.”
In Europe too, where we sometimes get our models from, language has long played a key political role in nation-building, identity formation, and cultural dominance. From the rise of standardised national languages (like French, German, or Italian) to the suppression or revival of minority tongues (like Catalan, Welsh, or Basque), language has been used both to unify states and to assert regional or ethnic autonomy. This has sometimes led to conflict, resistance, or revivalist movements.
Goa has had its fair share of language politics. Before 1961, it was the dominance of Portuguese, and the complex love-hate relationship the rulers had with local languages—at times building it through intense research, at other times seeking to ban it through edicts. In the 1960s, Goa saw Marathi-versus-Konkani politics, which resurfaced in the 1980s. That was followed by a major medium of instruction row, which pitted regional languages against English for primary-level education. Issues of script and dialect keep getting raised. After campaigns for Romi Konkani, another started for Marathi too.
We can dismiss language issues as being only politics, but it›s more than that. There›s linguistic identity and regional pride in our languages. Access to education, jobs, and resources can depend on how we define acceptable languages. With media and technology overgrowth, there are fears of cultural dominance. Some languages fear marginalisation. Political parties often mobilise language sentiment to win votes. Countries like India clearly need to balance unity and diversity. For multilingual societies like Goa, locally used languages obviously need local support. Multilingualism also needs promotion and protection. Learning from the experiences of others, we too need to find ways for optional language tracks. The child’s home language needs to be offered as the medium of instruction at the primary level, as recommended by global educational research. Minority and oral languages need support too. State grants and cultural support are needed for Goa’s diverse scripts and languages. Goa can also gain from training and recruiting multilingual teachers. Even if this is a tough task, in the long run, language rights also need to be seen as cultural rights.
