Diversity is a ‘feel good’ word for state officials. Talking about it is one thing and according it official recognition is quite another. No matter how diverse a population may actually be, in terms of language or ethnicity, it will always lack a voice in the politics of a country until and unless the nation-state makes allowance for and validates that diversity in its laws and institutions. The 20th century model of the nation-state posited uniqueness, however crafted as long as it was persuasive, as a basis for independence. With the passing of the days of the directly governed empires the politics of possible fragmentation within, rather than across, nations became important.
Central to this possible fragmentation is the issue of language. Indeed many modern day states, particularly post-colonial ones, have crafted a national culture through a national language. The details included or omitted in the concept of national culture have a telling impact. What does the recognition of a national language mean for the diversity inherent in a federation, particularly Pakistan’s, constituent units? And how does the concept of a national language affect the promise of enfranchisement and its desperate pursuit in a post-colonial state like ours?
Being a diverse federation, this country has consistently felt the pull of forces emphasising greater respect for its provinces and their distinct culture. As sane as those voices may be, the Centre has always responded with force or willful ignorance bred by insecurity. Starting with the riots soon after the Partition in present day Bangladesh (former East Pakistan) the centre failed to grasp the importance of language to the culture of its provinces. Unlike this country, the various ethnic groups inhabiting Pakistan along with their languages were not crafted from scratch to win an argument. If the constituent parts of a nation are made to feel like a threat to the nation then a legitimate question would be: how hollow is this nation and how long can it maintain pretence of unity?
If politics is a dialogue between the governors and the governed then the former have provided the latter little or no help in reconciling the State’s narrative with the stories on the ground in each province. And therefore there is little or no ownership of the Two Nation theory now apart from those who speak the State’s narrative. The State speaks its own language while trying to muzzle the linguistically and culturally distinct voices of its constituent units. The result, as we see today, is a lot of noise and an awful lot of confusion about something that lies at the core of any nation: identity.
Anyone reading the history of the Indian sub-continent could and should legitimately wonder as to how Urdu became our national language—more importantly how did it acquire that status to the exclusion of all other regional languages. If we accept that Muslims of the sub-continent were a distinct nation then surely we cannot simply erase, as our history books do, the history of the Muslims and the languages they spoke before the adoption of Urdu in Northern India. Even after Urdu established itself in Northern India, regional languages such as Pashto, Sindhi, Balochi and Bengali were spoken by the vast majority of people living in the various provinces that later became a part of Pakistan.
Notwithstanding what was argued at the time of Partition the aspirations of the Muslim nation in India did not have to translate into a state with a monolithic view of its culture that was to be legislated with no room for other voices. But the thought processes of the powers that be in this country seem to have been stuck in 1947. Urdu, after being linked to the Muslims in India and hence Islam in India (even though a majority of Muslims did not speak the language in their daily lives), assumed the status of a pre-requisite for all those wanting to be labeled patriotic.
Diversity was and is viewed by the state of Pakistan as a threat to unity. Owing to the insecurities of the state and the narrative it espouses, there has been stiff resistance to recognising, among others, linguistic diversity. This willful blindness not only damages the cherished hopes of the people living in Pakistan’s provinces but most importantly it damages the federation of Pakistan. Each Federation aims to be somewhat greater than the sum of its parts—but it first has to accept that it is equal to the sum of its parts. Therefore its parts demand and deserve respect not vulgar cynicism.
Last week, Ms. Marvi Memon bravely stood up in parliament to argue that the regional languages of Pakistan should be recognised as national languages. Predictably, she was dubbed anti-Pakistan. Ms Memon’s idea and the law tabled by her aims to make Pakistan something which it has never been: a more inclusive federation. For this reason alone, the law proposed by her deserves a patient hearing and coverage. The world is looking to Pakistan to sort itself out and to clean up the mess that it is in. Before Pakistan can speak or think in a coherent manner, it must acknowledge all the voices that speak to it.
The writer is a Barrister of Lincoln’s Inn and practices in Lahore. He has a special interest
in Anti-trust / Competition law. He can be reached at [email protected]
