Speaking for Pride, Living for Privilege

When a college student recently began an interview in English with Dr. Farooq Abdullah, the president of the Jammu & Kashmir National Conference, the veteran leader gently asked him to switch to Kashmiri, stressing that it is our language and we should promote it. The exchange quickly went viral because it resonated deeply with the emotions of identity and belonging that language evokes. Yet it also exposed a tension that lies at the heart of Kashmiri society today. While cultural pride in one’s mother tongue is vital, English remains the primary gateway to opportunities in the modern economy. Achieving this balance is not merely a linguistic concern; it is a matter of social justice, ethics, and leadership integrity.

Kashmiri has ancient roots and a sizeable speaker base. The 2011 Census records roughly 6.8 million Kashmiri speakers in India, primarily in the Valley, and the language is one of the country’s scheduled languages. The language is classified as “vulnerable,” meaning that while children still learn it, usage is increasingly confined to domestic settings—an early warning sign that its public presence could erode. These facts reveal a paradox: Kashmiri is both alive and under pressure. India’s National Education Policy 2020 and subsequent curricular frameworks advocate mother-tongue instruction at least to Grade 5, recognising that children learn concepts best in their home language. Strengthening Kashmiri in early education and community life, therefore makes pedagogical and cultural sense. But preserving Kashmiri, however desirable, has not by itself delivered global mobility or professional progress for the ordinary Kashmiri.

English, by contrast, has become the decisive marker of advancement. A study found that men fluent in English earn about 34 percent more per hour than those who are not, even after accounting for education and experience. Another national survey reported that 85 percent of Indian employees view English as essential for career growth. English dominates the language of global science, diplomacy, technology, and higher education; it is the lingua franca of the internet and international academia. It has enabled generations of Kashmiri writers, poets, doctors, engineers, professors, and professionals working worldwide to share their ideas, publish their research, and contribute—howsoever modestly—to international dialogue. Their achievements, although limited in global scale, demonstrate how English has empowered Kashmiris to transcend geographical boundaries and contribute to shaping global knowledge and perspectives about their homeland. Their achievements demonstrate how English has empowered Kashmiris to transcend geographical boundaries and participate in shaping global knowledge and perspectives about their homeland.

Against this backdrop, the political message urging young people to “speak Kashmiri” in a public conversation rings hollow, especially when voiced by leaders whose own children and grandchildren are educated in elite English-medium schools. The hypocrisy is difficult to ignore. For decades, the ruling and social elites have mastered English as their passport to opportunity while preaching mother-tongue purity to the masses. They defend Kashmiri pride in public forums but privately know that English is the language of power, of jobs, and of upward mobility. Such double standards perpetuate inequality: they trap the average Kashmiri in sentimental rhetoric while the privileged quietly reap the fruits of global connectivity. This performative sub-nationalism keeps the ordinary citizen backward—not by lack of ability but by lack of access.

Language pride must never become an instrument of exclusion. Promoting Kashmiri is worthwhile for cultural survival, but discouraging English proficiency in the name of tradition is self-defeating. Kashmiri has given us poetry, philosophy, and a collective soul, but it has not become a language of science, diplomacy, or global employment. No Kashmiri academic, engineer, or entrepreneur has achieved international recognition through the use of the Kashmiri language. A bitter fact we must swallow. It is English that has opened scholarships, research opportunities, and business networks. In today’s global order, power flows through the language of exchange—and that language is English.

For this reason, the moral and political responsibility of leaders is not to pit one language against another, but to ensure that every Kashmiri can command both: Kashmiri for identity and English for opportunity. A balanced, bilingual model—already proven successful in many countries—can preserve cultural rootedness while enabling global readiness. Policymakers and educators should recognise that fluency in English does not erode culture; it empowers it. Through English, Kashmir’s stories can reach the world rather than remain confined within its borders.

Ultimately, the brief exchange between Dr. Farooq Abdullah and the student symbolises more than a linguistic correction—it mirrors a hierarchy that persists in society. Elites claim authenticity through language pride while sustaining privilege through mastery of the English language. True leadership would break this divide: speaking Kashmiri to honour one’s roots and English to ensure one’s people can stand shoulder to shoulder with the world. A people who lose their language lose a part of their soul, but a people denied access to English lose access to progress itself. Pride in Kashmiri should not mean complacency, and fluency in English should not be treated as betrayal. Real empowerment lies in mastering both—the language of our identity and the language of our future.

 Postscript: The author, a Kashmiri with over two decades of professional experience in public and private sectors, acknowledges—at the risk of criticism—that the only language that has substantively enhanced his personal and professional outcomes, both within and beyond Kashmir, is English.

The author is an academician from Kashmir currently serving abroad.