English Language and the Local Babus

Sometimes, it appears that Pakistanis in general have forgotten that British colonial rule ended in 1947.

This simple yet useful piece of knowledge will certainly come as a shock to those among us who look upon the English language as the language of the gods. Perhaps, then, the average Pakistani will re-evaluate the special importance we have attached to English and perhaps, just perhaps, they will see this language’s elevated status for what it is; a remnant of the colonial days, when European culture was considered to be superior to the local culture and, consequently, one could not possibly be considered educated or refined if they were not fluent in English.

Reference can be made to the English Education Act 1835, a Legislative Act of the Council of India. This Act provided for funds to be allocated to establishments within British India which taught a Western curriculum, with English as the language of instruction instead of the regional languages within British India.

Lord Macaulay commented in the discussions leading up to the Act that, ‘…a single shelf of a good European library was worth the whole native literature of India and Arabia.’

Certainly, the best way to oppress a particular people is to condition them to believe that they are inferior to their rulers and this, in turn, encourages them to imitate their rulers rather than to resist them. This makes the masses easier to control.

Yet, once again, it must be stressed, British colonial rule ended in 1947. Since 1947, Pakistan has been a sovereign state, free from the oppression of the European colonial rulers. Yet, this inferiority complex has survived the days of the British Raj and has found its way into the modern generation.

Not only is it a matter of pride to be fluent in the English language but it is also a matter of pride to admit that one is not fluent in the national language or in any regional language.

If any person happens to be fluent in Urdu or Punjabi, for example, and if their English language skills happen to be weak, they are quickly dismissed as being ‘paindu.’

How many snide remarks does one hear that almost always go along the lines of, ‘Oh, she doesn’t know how to pronounce that word, she’s so ‘paindu!’ This is almost always followed by a wave of malicious laughter. Why else does the Pakistani community delight in sharing videos and anecdotes of Meera’s attempts at broken English?

Since when did one’s fluency in a particular language becomes a testament to their intelligence or competence?

Certainly, this is why English-medium educational institutions are considered to be ‘elite’ and Urdu-medium educational institutions are seen as somehow being subpar. This is also why Dickens is favored over Ghalib and reading an English classical novel is seen as intellectualism and reading an Urdu classical novel is seen as an eccentricity. We quote Shakespeare with a level of pride which would imply that he was born not in England but in Gujrat.

English language newspapers are treated with more respect and credibility than Urdu language newspapers and anyone fluent in Punjabi is somehow ‘uncouth’ and ‘uncivilised.’

Fluency in English is also used to further social class elitism, for those from ‘English-medium family backgrounds’ are held in a high regard while those from ‘Urdu-medium family backgrounds’ are considered to be somehow inferior and backward.

Yet another trend is the adoption of the faux American accent. Speaking the English language in a notably Pakistani accent is frowned upon but of course if we hear a French-speaker communicate in English with a French accent, at least a dozen desi girls will swoon and declare it is ‘attractive.’

As a nation, we have, unforgivably so, carried with us many insecurities from the days of colonial rule. It is seen in Euro-centric beauty ideals which are used to measure a person’s level of physical attraction, for dark skin is considered unattractive and a glowing, white complexion is greatly desired. And, of course, it is reflected in how we, as a nation, look with awe, admiration and wonder upon any individual who happens to be fluent in English.

It has been almost seventy years since we have been emancipated from colonial rule. It is time that we understood that we no longer have to adhere to European standards of conduct in order to be considered respectable, intelligent, refined or even beautiful. After almost seventy years of freedom from foreign rule, one would assume that this realisation would have—or should have—dawned earlier. It is easy to cast off shackles from one’s wrists but it is less easy to cast off those shackles which restrain the mind. Yet, if we do not attempt to fight against them now, what message will we leave behind for the future generations—that in order to succeed, one should erase their cultural identity and seek to imitate those foreign rulers which left this part of the world decades ago? If so, to which island of wisdom are we pointing our youth towards; towards cultural development and cultural pride or towards an English dictionary?