India stands at a critical juncture, caught between the anvil of technological disruption and the hammer of cultural nationalism. While the Union government champions economic independence and global technological leadership — exemplified by Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s co-chairing of the Artificial Intelligence (AI) Action Summit in Paris in February — its linguistic policies risk undermining these ambitions.
The call by the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) chief recently to reject English, western attire, and customs — echoed by Maharashtra’s push for Marathi use/promotion to be mandatory in government offices — reveals a deepening ideological contradiction. English, which is one of India’s official languages, and also the de-facto medium of higher education, law, health care, and aspirational jobs, as well as the gateway to global opportunities, remains accessible to just 10% of Indians.
This staggering disparity is not incidental but also a product of political choices, creating two divergent educational tracks: privileged private-school students ride the wave of globalisation, while 65% of India’s children in government schools remain shackled by linguistic nationalism. As AI reshapes the future of work, India’s reluctance to democratise English risks entrenching a linguistic apartheid, with profound consequences for equity and economic mobility.
The 21st century’s defining competition revolves not around military might but human capital. While India debates language as identity, Asian peers treat English as economic infrastructure. Israel, often romanticised by cultural nationalists for its ethnoreligious cohesion, offers an instructive counterpoint. Its technological prowess stems not from cultural isolation but a strategic embrace of global knowledge systems. By mandating English fluency alongside science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM) education, Israel ensures that all its citizens access innovation ecosystems. India’s leaders must recognise that empowering citizens through English is not cultural betrayal but strategic necessity.
Language policy, equality meets pragmatism
A nation’s language policy must balance equality and economic pragmatism. China, South Korea, and Vietnam now prioritise English proficiency as a mass skill, diverging from earlier elite-centric approaches.
China’s mandate, in 2001, to teach English from primary school catalysed its shift from an outsource destination for low-value manufacturing units to a dominant driver in the tech-driven economy. The Gaokao, China’s national college entrance examination, is the sole gateway to higher education for over 10 million students annually. English, accounting for 150 points (equal to Chinese and mathematics), is a mandatory component, reflecting its status as a core pillar of human capital strategy. This systemic emphasis ensures that even students from rural provinces gain foundational English skills, aligning with China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). As the BRI expanded China’s global infrastructure footprint, English became critical for diplomats, engineers and project managers interfacing with 140-plus partner nations. State media now explicitly links English proficiency to “telling China’s story well”, transforming the language from a colonial relic to a soft power tool.
South Korea’s Suneung, the college scholastic ability test, is an eight-hour marathon taken by 5,00,000 students yearly. English constitutes 25% of the examination’s “mandatory” section, with listening, reading and writing components modelled on global proficiency benchmarks such as TOEFL. This rigour stems from a national consensus: cultural pride (evident in the K-wave’s global dominance) need not conflict with linguistic pragmatism. Firms such as Samsung and Hyundai mandate English for research and development roles, while K-pop giants such as BIBI release English tracks to capture western markets. The result? A workforce equally adept at preserving hanbok traditions and negotiating semiconductor export controls — a duality India’s cultural nationalists dismiss as untenable.
Vietnam’s National Foreign Language Project (NFLP), launched in 2008 and extended to 2030, targets English proficiency for 70% of high school graduates and 100% of civil servants. Unlike India’s ad hoc policies, the NFLP integrates teacher training (50,000 educators upskilled), rural digital classrooms, and sector-specific benchmarks (for example, tourism workers must achieve B1 level).
The project’s $1.4 billion budget underscores its centrality to Vietnam’s goal of becoming a middle-tech manufacturing hub by 2045. From Ho Chi Minh City’s AI parks to Da Nang’s beachfront startups, English operates as the operating system for foreign direct investment-driven growth.
Crucially, these nations treat English as a utilitarian tool — like coding or calculus — divorced from identity politics.
The AI era’s linguistic realities
A recent NITI Aayog report highlights English proficiency as a major barrier to employment, noting it as the biggest contributing factor forcing industries in many States to hire outside talent, forcing industries in many States to hire outside talent. The Future of Jobs Report 2025 from the World Economic Forum underscores English’s non-negotiable role: 86% of employers cite AI and data analytics as primary growth drivers, fields where English dominates research, patents, and collaboration. Just as 19th-century industrialisation rewarded nations with coal, progress in the 21st century hinges on technical literacy coupled with linguistic agility. Vietnam’s English-proficient semiconductor engineers and South Korea’s bilingual AI researchers exemplify this shift. In advanced manufacturing, English enables a navigation of global supply chains, technical manuals, and AI-driven machinery. India’s aspiration to become a manufacturing hub falters without this fluency; 82% of remote tech roles demand English, while workers lacking proficiency face 68%–85% reduced access to high-growth sectors.
A persistent myth suggests that China thrived without English. In reality, its pivot in the 1990s to advanced manufacturing necessitated sweeping English adoption. Today, 400 million Chinese learn English, aligning with initiatives such as Huawei’s in-house language programmes. India cannot replicate China’s 1970s low-cost model; modern manufacturing demands that workers who are fluent in both regional languages and English to operate cyber-physical systems and global interfaces.
In India, constitutional parity and reality
India’s constitutional equality between Hindi and English has collapsed into a false dichotomy. The National Education Policy 2020’s vague multilingualism allows non-Hindi States to prioritise English and mother tongues (for example, Kerala, Tamil Nadu), yielding higher STEM enrolment and economic mobility. Conversely, regions emphasising Hindi-first policies lag in educational outcomes. With 93% of global technical courses in English, State curricula that marginalise it perpetuate colonial-era divides, reserving fluency for the elite.
By 2050, India will account for 23% of the global workforce. Yet, without English proficiency, this demographic dividend risks becoming a disaster. The World Economic Forum identifies AI, cybersecurity, and green energy as future job engines — all English-dominated. Kerala’s model, teaching Malayalam and English from Class one, proves that linguistic pride and pragmatism coexist. Conversely, States treating English as optional violate constitutional equality, restricting youth from national growth.
Asia’s rise offers a stark lesson: nations that weaponise language politics stagnate; those that weaponise language skills dominate. India must treat English as constitutional infrastructure, not ideological collateral. This is not a contest between English and regional languages but between preparing workers for AI and quantum computing — fields where English is the global standard — or risking obsolescence. Proficiency in English is not just helpful, it is essential. Vietnam’s now 22-year language project shows transformation is possible with resolve. For India, the countdown to 2047 begins now.
Ra. Shhiva is an advocate in the Madras High Court and the founder of Citizens for Law and Democracy (CLAD), a research-focused non-profit to strengthen science education for children. Sabur Ali M. is the co-founder of Citizens for Law and Democracy (CLAD)
Published – March 14, 2025 12:16 am IST
