The writing on the board

Humankind has seen thousands of languages emerge and perish

Alok Tiwari

India’s Information Technology capital Bengaluru was once again in the news for the wrong reason. Parochial and regressive issues are never far in the city that is also arguably India’s most modern. Some years ago, goons had attacked pub-going women prompting women’s organization to send sets of women’s underwear to the head of that group. Now, it is the language. Karnataka Rakshana Vedike decided to attack signboards in English language demanding that they be in Kannada.

Like religion, language is another tool for petty and petty-minded leaders to seek limelight. It could just be an attempt by the little-known outfit to grab some headlines. While the workers and leader of the group were arrested, it still did not prevent the municipal body to declare that signboards in Kannada were necessary. That is the trouble with the genies of emotive issues. Once let out, they can rarely be put back in the bottle. Even those who realize that they are insignificant in the larger scheme of things cannot openly oppose them. It is politically suicidal.

Targeting signboards of commercial organizations for local language is hardly new. Many years ago, it was Shiv Sena leading the campaign for Marathi signboards in Maharashtra, notably Mumbai. It is another matter that for most local level leaders it just ended up being a means to extort something from hapless shopkeepers. Signboards are most visible symbol of what is cool. Shopkeepers would want their shops to stand out and their wares be seen as aspirational. In case of large national and multinational corporations they are means to reinforce brands and image.

As these tend to be in English, guardians of local culture take up cudgels to defend it from alien influence. Their effort results in regulations like having signboards in local language or forcing theatres to screen local language movies. While these are minor things, some go ahead and make even education compulsory in local language. While this may do good for massaging nationalist or provincial egos, it often puts entire generations at a disadvantage in fast globalizing world where people might like to pursue education in language that enables them to work anywhere.

It is sad if a language needs crutches of signboards on shops to go places. It indicates that the battle has already been lost. It means that local people, at least large and influential sections of them, no longer consider local language cool or useful. The signboards in imported languages are symptoms of that change, not a cause of it. Merely rewriting signboards will not change much. Even forcing children to study through some language may not help it survive. People will find ways to learn language they find useful even if state apparatus is against it. Naturally the more resourceful will find it easier. The rich will send their children abroad or in other states while the vast majority will be left out. Such restrictions only end up disadvantaging the very people whose pride they seek to uphold.

The reason is that treating the symptoms rarely treats the disease. Having signboards in Kannada or making children study in Marathi or Hindi may let some people feel good but does it really empower the people? Changing signboards is the easy part. One may be against English because it seems like legacy of colonialism. Undoubtedly, colonial history is responsible for emergence of English as lingua franca of the world. But there is more to that language than just history. It has huge, independent, and in-use vocabulary for every subject from engineering to medicine to computers to aviation to finance apart from traditional arts and sciences. And these have been independently developed without governments forcing it. Replicating it may be possible for other languages, but it will be a Herculean undertaking with no assurance of success. We have seen the official efforts of Hindi departments over the decades and where they have led to.

It may also be unnecessary. The over visibility of English language is just that, it is not dominance. The fears that adopting English will lead to extinction of local languages have proved exaggerated. When people adopt English for professional utility, they do not discard their mother tongue. On the contrary, they on their own make efforts to preserve it. The emergence of Internet and social media were supposed to accelerate the process of sweeping local language and literature aside. But reverse is happening. Over the years, local languages have emerged as favoured means of communication on social media. Many young writers, poets, pamphleteers who otherwise would not have been noticed have emerged on platforms like FB and X. I have read some real quality writing in Hindi and Marathi online. Not just that, even old classic literature of all languages is available and being accessed by multitudes online.

We need to take a pragmatic view of the question. Humankind has seen thousands of languages emerge and perish. This will go on. We need to accept that not all languages will live on forever. Linguistic diversity may be desirable, but it is best left to people’s choice. Forcing people or businesses to use a particular language will not work. The change will only be cosmetic and if extreme measures are taken it may lead to both leaving the place impoverishing everybody. A better way to ensure that language is preserved will be to enrich it and make it more useful.

Language, like a car, is just means to an end. While some may buy it for its looks or because it is locally made, its ultimate success will depend upon how well it takes you from A to B. A language that can be stepping stone to success and opens the doors to the wider world will always be preferred no matter what writing on the signboard is.

This column was published in Lokmat Times on Jan 3, 2024