The language issue arose in the immediate aftermath of
independence — it had to be decided which language, or languages, would the new
Muslim nation speak, officially and colloquially. While it seemed that the
elevated position of English would have no threat in Pakistan for the foreseeable future [and
as it happens to date], the tussle, therefore, began a rather interesting term
‘national language.’
Hence, Pakistan became a country where the official
language — the language in which all government functions are undertaken and
which is the medium of instruction in higher education — was undisputedly
English, but where there was a debate on the ‘national’ language where one
wasn’t quite sure what the status really meant but felt passionately about it
nonetheless.
Despite the unclear legal nature of the term ‘national’ language, a fierce
debate soon arose pitting Urdu versus Bengali in Pakistan. A month after independence in
mid-September 1947, a pamphlet was circulating in Dacca arguing that Bengali should be
made the court language and medium of instruction in East Bengal. It even went as far as to
advocate that Bengali be made co-equal with Urdu at the centre. A ‘Tamaddun
Majlis’ [Cultural Association] was also set up around the same time by students
at Dacca University which argued the aims of the
pamphlet. This association was soon joined by the Rashra Basha Sangram Parishad
i.e., the State Language Committee of Action founded in October 1947, when it
became clear that official nomenclature, bank notes and the rest would be only
in Urdu with no taint of Bengali.
Thereafter, there was a protest in Dacca and a meeting at the Dacca University deplored the omission of Bengali
— the language spoken by the majority of Pakistan’s people from official discourse.
The fiercely national Bengalis had also now decided to ‘protect’ their language.
Amidst the ‘protection’ war between Urdu and Bengali, the premier of East Bengal, Khawaja Nazimuddin, had already
shot himself in the foot. In the debate cited above he had unequivocally
supported the cause of Urdu at the centre while championing the status of
Bengali at the provincial level. However, this double speak — as some put it —
did not do good for the quiet Khawaja.
As reported by the US Attache in Dacca, almost immediately student
protests broke out in Dacca and two general strikes had been
planned. The government was so taken aback by the reaction that hurriedly a
press statement had to be released on March 1, 1948, which stated: “That issue can be
decided at the appropriate time solely in accordance with the wishes of the
people of this province alone as ascertained through the accredited
representatives.” However, such an assurance did not placate anyone and now
even the date of return of Nazimuddin was being kept secret in his own
provincial capital!
During the CAP debate on language, Quaid-e-Azam Mohammad Ali Jinnah as the
president of the Assembly stayed impartial. One could see his uneasiness with
the stance of the members of the Pakistan National Congress, but even
though he had strong views on the subjects, Jinnah decided to stay quiet. He
was supposed to tour East Pakistan in March 1948, and so thought
that that would be the best time to broach the question and settle it, once and
for all. One would have thought that Jinnah dressed in Savile Row suits and
being one of the best English barristers of his time might set aside the
squabble between Urdu and Bengali as immature and focus on English as a
language for the future — especially since he was only proficient in that
tongue, but his tour of East Bengal exhibited a different tone.
In his decade of days in East Pakistan, Jinnah spoke on the topic of
language repeatedly, and strongly. Speaking at his first public gathering in Dacca on March 21, 1948, Jinnah had a broad smile as he viewed the swarming
maiden in front of him. The area was full of people as far as the eyes could
see, perhaps a million souls, and they were all chanting, Pakistan, Zindabad
[Long Live Pakistan], and Quaid-e-Azam Zindabad [Long Live the Great Leader].
Jinnah was beaming with joy at what he had achieved — a sovereign homeland for
the Muslims of South Asia. He was proud that even with the
several hardships that partition and independence had brought, the people were
full of zeal and enthusiasm for the new country — this was the mettle of strong
nations, Jinnah thought to himself.
As he conjured the new nation of Pakistan, Jinnah also wanted the country
to have one state language, one lingua franca. He had heard the debate in the CAP
and the public protests against the imposition of Urdu in East Bengal and was adamant to put an end to
the debate, once and for all. After all, he was the founder of the country —
the Great Leader, and his word would and should be final.
Therefore, in an ironic turn of events, Jinnah adjusted his monocle and began
reading his rather long and detailed speech to the people of East Bengal,
albeit not in Urdu, which he was going to argue for, and nor in Bengali which
his audience could understand, but in the King’s English — the language he
himself was most comfortable in. The crowd didn’t care which language the
‘Shahinshah’ — Emperor — of Pakistan spoke in — they simply hung on to
every word he spoke, and every pause in his speech brought loud cheers. However,
when he spoke about the question of language, the cheers were slightly mellow —
some in the audience, those graduates of Dacca University and other institutes of higher
learning had actually understood what he was saying. Jinnah had exclaimed:
“…Whether Bengali shall be the official language of this Province is a matter
for the elected representatives of the people of this Province to decide. I
have no doubt that this question shall be decided solely in accordance with the
wishes of the inhabitants of this Province at the appropriate time…But let me
make it very clear to you that the State Language of Pakistan is going to be
Urdu and no other language. Anyone who tries to mislead you is really the enemy
of Pakistan. Without one State language, no
nation can remain tied up solidly together and function…Therefore, so far as
the State Language is concerned, Pakistan’s language shall be Urdu.”
Students immediately responded to this speech, and it was reported by Tajuddin
Ahmad, an eyewitness, that “Quaid-i-Azam’s speech hurt every person of this
province, everybody is disgusted he was expected to be above party.” Others
reported that “people broke down a gate, destroyed a picture of the Quaid and
protested against the Quaid’s pronouncements.” The Great Leader was not above
board any longer.
A few days later, Jinnah spoke at the convocation of Dacca University. Jinnah knew that students were
mainly at the forefront of the agitation to give the equal position to Bengali
with Urdu and therefore decided to reemphasize his views on language again.
Here Jinnah not only highlighted the practical need for one language, as he had
done a few days earlier, he underscored the cultural and religious significance
of Urdu for Pakistan. In what was also a mini-lecture on
culture and identity, Jinnah, again in his immaculate English and in a tone as
much as of educating as admonishment said:
“For official use in this province, the people of the province can choose any
language they wish…There can, however, be only one lingua franca, that is, the
language for intercommunication between the various provinces of this State,
and that language should be Urdu. Its State language must be Urdu, a language
that has been nurtured by a hundred million Muslims of his sub-continent, a
language understood throughout the length and breadth of Pakistan, and above
all, a language which, more than any other provincial languages, embodies the
best that is in Islamic culture and Muslim tradition and is nearest to the
languages used in other Islamic countries.”
There was an immediate reaction from the students assembled there with
chanting, ‘Na, Na, Na!’ to make sure that their Great Leader had heard them. But
not only did Jinnah dismiss the demand for the co-equal status of Bengali, he
also labelled it as not ‘Islamic’ enough, and therefore unsuitable as one of
the state languages of a Muslim country. As an English speaker, Jinnah could,
however, be forgiven for not knowing that people in East Bengal or for that
matter in large parts of west Pakistan too, still did not read, write or
understand Urdu.
The cat was out of the bag. Jinnah or West Pakistan did not have a problem with
Bengali per se — the Bengalis could continue speaking their language as they
pleased in distant East Bengal. The problem was that Pakistan
was an Islamic/Muslim state [the distinction was never made between these two
terms in Pakistan’s early years and they were used interchangeably], and only
an Islamic/Muslim language could be its state language and lingua franca, and
that language was Urdu alone.
