Who Decides a Nation’s Language?
Trump’s English-only push, India’s Hindi debate, and echoes of 1970s Pakistan

If history is any indication, linguistic imposition rarely leads to unity

If history is any indication, linguistic imposition rarely leads to unity
Language is more than a tool for communication; it is an instrument of identity, power, and political control. Across history, dominant groups have sought to impose their language as a means of shaping national identity and governance. Today, two of the world’s largest democracies are witnessing renewed battles over language imposition—Donald Trump’s push to declare English the official language of the United States and India’s ongoing conflict over Hindi supremacy. But these debates are not new, nor are they unique to these nations. The imposition of Urdu in 1970s Pakistan—and the subsequent resistance in East Pakistan—serves as a historical warning about the consequences of using language as a tool of control.
Trump’s English-Only Push: A Nationalist Agenda
The United States has never had an official language. English dominates, but the country’s linguistic landscape is vast, shaped by waves of immigrants speaking Spanish, Chinese, Tagalog, Arabic, and many others. Yet Trump, reiterating his nationalist, anti-immigration rhetoric, is pushing an executive order to designate English as the official language. His administration argues that this will unify the country, but critics see it as a political move to marginalize immigrant communities, particularly Spanish speakers.
This move follows a pattern: Trump previously removed Spanish-language resources from the White House website and social media, and his policies have actively targeted multilingual access to government services. While federal agencies will still be allowed to offer services in other languages, the symbolic weight of the declaration is clear—a message that English is the only legitimate American language.
Stalin on Hindi Imposition: A New Flashpoint
Tamil Nadu Chief Minister MK Stalin recently sharpened his attack on the BJP-led Union government, questioning why no institution has been set up to teach Tamil or other South Indian languages in northern states. This, he pointed out, starkly contrasts with the Dakshina Bharat Hindi Prachar Sabha, which has spent decades promoting Hindi in the South. Writing to party workers as part of his campaign against “Hindi imposition,” Stalin argued that technology—Google Translate, ChatGPT, and AI—has made linguistic barriers irrelevant, making the forced learning of a language an unnecessary burden on students.
Stalin’s comments are just the latest in a long-standing battle. Tamil Nadu has resisted Hindi since the 1930s, with violent anti-Hindi agitations in the 1960s shaping its language policy. Dravidian parties continue to oppose any expansion of Hindi, seeing it as a tool of North Indian cultural dominance. Similar sentiments are growing in Karnataka, West Bengal, and even Maharashtra, where leaders have warned that privileging Hindi undermines federalism and linguistic diversity.
The Shadow of 1970s Pakistan?
India’s Hindi debate bears unsettling similarities to the language conflict in Pakistan in the 1950s-70s. At the time, the Pakistani state, dominated by West Pakistan, sought to impose Urdu as the national language, despite the fact that a majority of the population in East Pakistan (now Bangladesh) spoke Bengali. The resistance to Urdu imposition was not merely about language—it became a battle for identity, political representation, and ultimately, autonomy. The suppression of Bengali linguistic and cultural identity played a significant role in fueling resentment, leading to the Bangladesh Liberation War in 1971.
In India, Hindi enjoys a similar position to Urdu in pre-1971 Pakistan. Though only about 40% of Indians speak Hindi as their first language, Union government policies increasingly favor it over regional languages. The promotion of Hindi in competitive exams, higher education, and government administration echoes Pakistan’s insistence on Urdu as the unifying national language. The fear, particularly in South India and the Northeast, is that the erasure of linguistic diversity will lead to cultural and political marginalization.
A Short History of Linguistic Hegemony
Hindi, as it is known today, evolved from Khari Boli, a dialect spoken in parts of present-day Uttar Pradesh and Delhi. During colonial rule, Persian was the administrative language, but as British influence grew, Hindi and Urdu (written in both Nastaliq and Devanagari scripts) began to emerge as linguistic symbols of competing religious and cultural identities. In 1900, the British allowed the use of both Hindi (in Devanagari script) and Urdu (in Persian script) in official records, formalizing the divide.
Post-independence, Hindi was positioned as the national unifier, but its elevation came at a cost. Over time, in keeping with the famous adage “A language is a dialect with an army and a navy” (often attributed to Max Weinreich), many North Indian languages such as Bhojpuri, Magadhi, and Braj Bhasha were relegated to dialect status. In Rajasthan, vibrant languages like Marwari, Mewari, and Shekhawati have similarly been subsumed under the umbrella of Hindi—effectively erasing their independent identities. Today, for instance, Rajasthani remains classified as a dialect of Hindi in census records, despite a long-standing demand for its inclusion in the Eighth Schedule of the Constitution.
This mirrors what happened in Pakistan, where regional languages were sidelined to promote a singular national identity centred on Urdu.
Resurgent Hindi Nationalism
In recent years, the ruling BJP government has intensified its push for Hindi as the primary language of governance, education, and administration. Union Home Minister Amit Shah has repeatedly emphasized the need to replace English with Hindi in official functions. Key policy moves include:
l National Education Policy 2020: Initially proposed mandatory Hindi in non-Hindi-speaking states, sparking backlash from Tamil Nadu, Kerala, and Karnataka. The government was forced to revise its stance.
l Official Language Committee Reports: Recommends increased use of Hindi in courts, higher education, and administration, prompting opposition from multiple states.
l Government Job Recruitment Exams: Language policies in exams for railways, banking, and other sectors favor Hindi speakers, putting non-Hindi speakers at a disadvantage.
Linguistic Nationalism and the Risk of Alienation
Both Trump’s English-only push and India’s Hindi imposition reveal how language is used as a tool to define national identity. Proponents argue that a single language fosters unity, but history suggests otherwise. Imposing a dominant language often alienates large sections of the population and breeds resentment. The parallels with Pakistan’s failed Urdu policy should serve as a warning: linguistic imposition does not lead to unity—it deepens divisions.
A Cross-National Comparison: The US, India, and Pakistan
l Symbolic Politics – Declaring English as the US’s official language or pushing Hindi over regional languages in India sends a message about who belongs and who does not.
l Marginalizing Minorities – In the US, Spanish speakers feel targeted; in India, non-Hindi speakers (especially in South India and the Northeast) fear cultural erasure.
l Federal vs. Central Power – Trump’s push challenges America’s multicultural identity, while Hindi imposition challenges India’s federalism. Pakistan’s failure to respect Bengali as an equal language led to disastrous consequences.
The Future of Linguistic Politics
In the US, Trump’s executive order may not have lasting legal impact, but it will certainly shape political discourse around immigration and identity. In India, the battle over Hindi is far from over. Ultimately, the question remains: should a nation dictate its citizens’ language, or should language policies evolve organically based on people’s choices? If history is any indication, linguistic imposition—whether in the US, India, or Pakistan—rarely leads to unity. Instead, it strengthens resistance, proving that language is not just about communication—it is about power, identity, and the right to belong.