Written by Hamza Surbuland. Edited by Aslam Bhatta and Sadaf Toseef. Translated into French by Warq.
Preface: I wrote this article from the perspective of a Pakistani living in the diaspora. This is in no way a personal attack, but rather a commentary on the realities I have observed. The article is also available in Urdu and English on the author’s blog.

(Also, the font for this article will definitely not be Nastaleeq. This site has some shortcomings that I can’t work around.)

“We must now do our best to form a class that will act as interpreters between us and the millions we govern. A class that will be Indian in blood and color, but English in tastes, opinions, moral values, and intellect.” 

What does this quote mean? Can you imagine an Arab or Iranian (whether from the diaspora or not) who can more or less speak their language but cannot write or read? And who refuses to learn? It may be hard to believe, but among the Pakistani middle and upper classes, as well as Pakistanis from the diaspora, this case is not uncommon. But even sadder is to hear: “I don’t need Urdu,” “Why should I learn Urdu?”, “It’s too much effort for what?” as a way of refusing to learn, write, or practice the language.

So why, then, must we give importance to Urdu? Why must we be concerned about Urdu? When a growing portion of the Pakistani population is more comfortable in English. And this is normal since we are more comfortable in the language we speak from a young age. Except that this is also the root of the problem. We have spoken English since the beginning. We read and write English. We think in English and speak it. We comment and criticize in English. It is in English that we act and protest. We celebrate our joys in English and mourn our deaths. We dream our dreams in English and interpret them in English.

Meanwhile, year after year, Urdu is moving towards its predetermined final destination. We claim to speak Urdu, but ask an outsider what they hear: only the structure is Urdu. Otherwise, all the important words are in English. Calling it Urdu is nothing less than a joke. How far is your language your own and at what point does it become a pale imitation of another?

Thus, Urdu is dying, a zombie of its past existence, consigned even to the realm of poetry, disconnected from political, economic, intellectual, and social vitality. Where Urdu continues to exist, it is in the domestic sphere, a household management tool, reserved for simple daily exchanges. Real business is conducted in English. And at best, most of the time, Urdu has only symbolic value, a shadow of a legacy from a grandiose past, nothing more.

Some will disagree: “Urdu is a beautiful poetic language, of course we value it!” Yes, Urdu is certainly a poetic language, but can’t it also be something else? Can science, education, mathematics, medicine, geography, engineering, urban planning, law only be done in English? Is “IT” also possible in Urdu? These questions are undoubtedly strange, unusual, and perhaps even hurtful, aren’t they? In truth, Urdu is an integral, complete language, like any other. It can be suitable for any purpose, if we wish. It can progress, if we wish. It can die at the next crossroads, if we wish. Our weariness and inattention can make it the dust of time.

The failure to give Urdu language social importance and link it to commerce, the phenomenal increase in private so-called “English” schools, the degraded state of Urdu and our deep inferiority complex, are all reasons which take away the fertile capacity and weaken the language.

These days, especially in the West, modesty as a sentiment is not in vogue. But let me say something offensive: in my opinion, we should feel embarrassed to be far from Urdu. It should be strange, sad, and damaging not to have the ability to use the language properly. We should feel disturbed to use only simplified and diluted forms of Urdu. We should worry that we cannot express our complex and innovative ideas in our mother tongue. We are forced to use English words to fill in the blanks. We should be ashamed to give birth to row after row of Macauley children.

But what’s wrong with English? I would like to specifically point out here that we must learn English. Today, English is not just a convenience but a necessity. But while learning it, we must ensure that local languages, cultures, and heritage are not threatened. English should be a secondary language, not the primary one.

Beyond the linguistic and aesthetic problems posed by the dominance of English, the real problem is cultural. Remember, language use is never impartial, since it is always tied to culture and history. Using other languages isn’t just about replacing words and idioms, it’s about adopting a different way of thinking.

Some will insist that we have adopted English like tea and cricket, and that the boundaries between culture and language are not as rigid as some would have us believe. Have we not adopted English as we have Arabic and Persian, and has Urdu not gained in color and structure in adopting English? These are interesting points.

In response, I would say that the fusion of Persian and Arabic in Asia was the result of a peaceful, natural, and reciprocal process, one of the corollaries of which is the Urdu language. From a Muslim perspective, the integration of these languages ​​represents a wonderful consequence of the ancient Islamic civilization of more than a millennium. While we should never forget that English is a language imposed by the colonizer. Its dominance cannot be positive; we should consider it negative.

One of the negative consequences is the romanization of Urdu, which is one of the reasons for the current decline of Urdu. Furthermore, remember that during the post-colonial period, English was a tool for the spread of Western globalization, atheism, and materialism.

According to Palestinian sage Wael Hallaq, Muslims are eager consumers of others’ innovations, even if these innovations run counter to our fundamental cultural and behavioral principles.

What can ultimately be done to address this declining state of Urdu? Indeed, it’s easy to criticize but difficult to propose a solution. Deconstruction has always been easier than construction.

:I would then like to propose four points:

First, it is clear that providing quality education in Urdu is urgent. The proliferation of English in private schools has relegated Urdu to secondary status. On the other hand, teaching Urdu in government schools is nothing short of an ordeal. Moreover, all the literature supporting the fundamentals of knowledge and philosophy is found exclusively in English.

This results in a general atmosphere where even if a person wanted to speak pure Urdu, they would not know how to express their complex and innovative ideas due to a lack of vocabulary. Moreover, training programs for the correct digitization of Urdu should be offered in large numbers. This could help combat the romanization of Urdu. There would, of course, be a need for more in-depth reforms to improve the education system.

Second, in the process of word borrowing, a cultural revolution is necessary. Word borrowing is that linguistic process where a word is imported as is into another language. An example can be found in the word “school” which is used as is in Urdu. Why don’t we say “taleem gah”, “dars gah”, “madarsa”?

If we reach this conclusion, then the psychological message is that education is only valuable if it is provided in English. The problem with modern Urdu is that we are importing English words “wholesale.” By giving significant space to this phenomenon of systematic borrowing, which is also an indication of negligence, disinterest, and an inferiority complex, our Urdu is losing its features. But it is not too late.

Urdu is a fusion of three languages and cultures: Arabic, Persian, and Sanskrit. Faced with the pressures of modern times, we can draw on these three deep and solid traditions. The Arabs and Persians have done an incredible job preserving their language. For new inventions, we can draw inspiration from their words. Did you know that they had a specific Arabic word for “search bar”? Although sometimes these words, borrowed from other contexts, can be too abstract for general understanding. In this case, we can, as a continuum of our rich linguistic heritage, give birth to new words when the need arises.

By pointing out the harmful nature of English in society, I am in no way preaching a return to the days of Ghalib. But, what I am trying to say is that we should have enough self-confidence to become a self-sufficient language. If instead of simple borrowing of words we resorted more to translation and word creation then Urdu can continue to be fertile and prosperous.

Third, we need to restore Urdu’s social and economic importance. We are not learning English just to fill the confidence gap, but English is necessary to move forward in life.

I’m not just talking about the global level, but also within Pakistan itself. Anyone who doesn’t speak English is immediately eliminated from the race; they don’t earn much and therefore can’t improve their family’s social status.

English is a basic requirement for any important position. However, we can choose not to perpetuate this practice. If we restore institutional, political, legal, literary, and academic importance to Urdu, people will naturally gravitate towards it.

Fourth, we must love Urdu. Shame and worry remain in their place, but love is an even stronger feeling. Adopting a language is an extremely difficult process. In this quest, love is a basic requirement. Love is the strength that will encourage you in difficult times when you would be irritated, uncomfortable, and demotivated.

More specifically, I mean that we need to strengthen our relationship with our history, culture, and heritage. Language does not necessarily have a relationship with religion, but Urdu is linked to Islam. We need to revive this sense of pride in this heritage and identity, which is rich in time-tested knowledge.

Remember that one of the key goals of colonization is for the colonized to accept that their own history and identity are inferior. Decolonialist author Albert Memmi stated that:

The most severe attack on a colonized people is to erase them from history. The colonizer usurps every decision that contributes to their own history. 

The final decision is in our hands: Are we going to feel concerned? Who are we? Who do we want to become?

PS: I would just like to touch on our regional languages. This discussion deserves a separate article. Not only has colonization made them suffer, but Urdu has also harmed their ecosystems. In the general perception, the precious language of Bhulay Shah and Baba Farid has become a language of comedy and a backward character. Similarly, the problems that Urdu has faced are also affecting regional languages ​​on a larger scale.

Therefore, teaching Urdu should not encroach on regional languages. This process is a colonialist one. We can simultaneously respect and teach all languages. Anyone who opposes this is demonstrating the same open-mindedness that the colonizers bestowed upon us.

Photo by AaDil from Pexels