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RIGHT
ANGLE
At
Peace With Angrezi
If only
India hadn't wasted time fighting silly battles over English
By
Swapan Dasgupta
There
is an entire generation of Indians, some occupying high political posts,
who spent their best years fighting vicious battles over language. Whether
it is Atal Bihari Vajpayee on the one extreme or M. Karunanidhi on the
other, linguistic exclusivism has been a traditional hallmark of populism,
much before caste and gender entered the scene. In the war of linguistic
supremacy, party lines haven't mattered. Vajpayee and Ram Manohar Lohia
spent the late-1960s inciting their followers to chant Angrezi hatao and
Hindi lao, while Dravidian nationalists led by C.N. Annadurai catapulted
to power on the emotive promise of resisting Hindi imperialism. In the
first flush of post-colonial existence, empowerment meant the glorification
of provincial impulses.
Tragically,
like socialism, it persisted for a bit too long. Even as Indianness became
more entrenched, state after state retreated into their linguistic shells,
partly to facilitate democratic participation but essentially to nurture
cultural pride. At the same time, a new demonology was created around
the use of English. Proficiency in the language came to be equated with
elitism and mental subordination. Crores of rupees were spent in easing
out Albion's legacy and replacing it with indigenous alternatives.
The results
were very mixed. Hindi, for example, extended its reach throughout the
country, apart from Tamil Nadu and Kerala. But that had less to do with
the endeavours of scholars like Raghu Vira and crusaders like Congressman
Seth Govind Das. The most successful missionary work for Hindi was done
by the script-writers of the immensely popular Hindi films. Their achievements
were in sharp contrast to the somewhat comic consequences of the official
bid to elevate Hindi into a natural language of science and technology.
Consequently, by the time the political class convinced itself that it
was time to say goodbye to socialism, India was in the throes of linguistic
uncertainty. On paper, English enjoyed pariah status but in terms of market
value, its reputation was awesome. It became an aspirational symbol and
a necessary passport to self-improvement. But because access to it was
imperfect, it also became the symbol of a class divide.
Socially,
proficiency in English created new hierarchies but culturally and economically
it kept alive India's links with the world at a time when insularity and
self-sufficiency were the prevailing buzzwords. Unlike China that comforted
itself with the pedagogy of the oppressed, there was always a significant
minority in India that kept the positive legacy of the Empire intact.
Yet, it was a difficult exercise. The English-speaking elite was the butt
of ridicule and the object of populist derision. English was somehow thought
to be at odds with India and a hurdle in the path of social justice.
Today, the
tables have been turned. The familiarity with English has become India's
great selling point in the international market, its great advantage over
China. More important, this is being formally acknowledged by yesterday's
populists. Last month, in a quiet move, the Gujarat Government made the
teaching of English compulsory from Class V. It is encouraging special
English classes for adults to facilitate the growth of information technology
in the state. Last year, the West Bengal Government reintroduced English
from Class III after 22 wasted years. The pressure to change came from
below, from the market. If only this realisation had come earlier, India
would have been a much better place.
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