The Language Debate: English, Identity, and Power in India
"The role of English in India has sparked a political and cultural storm, with contrasting visions of India's future and the importance of native languages.";

In a rapidly evolving India where communication, global connectivity, and competitiveness are more important than ever, the role of the English language has once again sparked a political and cultural storm. At the heart of this latest debate are two contrasting visions of India’s future: one that views English as a tool of empowerment and upward mobility, and another that sees it as a lingering symbol of colonial dominance and elitism.
The debate ignited during a recent book launch in New Delhi, where Union Home Minister Amit Shah made a provocative assertion: “In this country, those who speak English will soon feel ashamed—the creation of such a society is not far away.”
Emphasizing the importance of India’s native languages, Shah argued that they are the “jewels of our culture,” without which “we cease to be truly Indian.” He called for a renaissance of Indian linguistic pride, saying that “with self-respect, we will run our country in our own languages and lead the world too.”
In stark contrast, Congress leader and Lok Sabha Opposition Leader Rahul Gandhi offered a broader and more pragmatic view. "English is a bridge, not a dam," he said. "It is power, not shameful. English is a tool to break the shackles, not a chain." Gandhi underlined that in the modern world, English is as crucial as one's mother tongue for building confidence and securing employment. "The BJP-RSS do not want the poor of India to learn English because they do not want them to ask questions, move forward, and become equals," he argued. For him, linguistic inclusivity—not isolation—is the way forward. “We must teach every Indian child both their mother tongue and English. That is how we build an India capable of competing with the world.”
This debate is not new. Nearly 45 years ago, the Left Front government in West Bengal under the influence of Marxist ideologue Promode Dasgupta made a similar decision to ban the teaching of English in state-run schools until Class VI. Dasgupta believed that English represented elitism and that a foreign language should be taught only at a later stage. The move, based on the recommendations of the Himangshu Bimal Mazumdar Commission, was justified as a way to reduce dropout rates in early schooling. For years, the policy was defended using various educational reports that cautioned against overburdening children with multiple languages.
However, the fallout was disastrous. A generation of students, particularly in rural and economically weaker sections, emerged with weak English proficiency. Meanwhile, urban parents who understood the importance of English increasingly turned to private English-medium schools. By the time the Left Front tried to reverse its decision under Chief Minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee in the early 2000s, the damage to public education had already been done. Teachers themselves—products of the no-English policy—were often unprepared to teach the language.
This cautionary tale looms large as Amit Shah revives the argument against English. His remarks have triggered sharp reactions, especially from southern states like Tamil Nadu that have consistently opposed the central government’s attempts to enforce a three-language formula. Shah's cultural push also drew criticism from leaders like Derek O’Brien of the Trinamool Congress, who tweeted, “97% of Indians use one of the 22 constitutionally recognized languages as their mother tongue. This is our Unity in Diversity. Shah and Modi will never understand that.”
Critics also point to the contradiction between Shah’s remarks and Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s own global persona. “While former Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee spoke in Hindi even at the United Nations, Modi prefers English in international forums,” noted Prof. Ramesh Dikshit, suggesting that linguistic pride is selectively applied and politically weaponized.
Despite the ideological divide, the numbers tell their own story. English, though spoken fluently by only around 10% of Indians, dominates higher education, global business, science, and technology. It remains the language of the judiciary, diplomacy, aviation, and top-tier civil services. English-medium schools continue to grow at a faster rate than vernacular institutions, particularly in semi-urban and rural India where parents see English proficiency as a path to socio-economic mobility.
Moreover, English is not in conflict with Indian languages—it coexists. India is among the most linguistically diverse countries in the world, with the 2001 Census identifying 122 major languages and over 1,500 others. Far from erasing regional tongues, English often becomes the neutral, connecting language in multilingual states and metropolitan cities. In this context, the binary of English versus Indian languages appears not only flawed but also outdated.
What India needs is not linguistic nationalism that shames or excludes, but a robust multilingual education policy that equips children with both global tools and cultural roots. Promoting native languages and cultural pride is essential, but denying access to English can close doors to global opportunity, especially for the marginalized. If English is elitist, it is precisely because access to it is restricted—not because the language itself is exclusionary.
In the end, language should be a ladder, not a wall. English and Indian languages need not compete—they can coexist as dual assets in a global India. It’s not about choosing between identity and opportunity. A confident, forward-looking India must embrace both.