Bangla is the national language of Bangladesh. Today, nearly 250 million people worldwide speak Bengali as their mother tongue, making it the fourth most spoken language on earth. It possesses a vast and living literary tradition. Yet its continued marginalisation demands explanation.
The problem is often described as a lack of goodwill. But whose goodwill is meant — that of individuals or of institutions? Individual goodwill has existed for decades and continues to exist, yet Bengali remains excluded from many domains of power. This alone demonstrates that goodwill without authority is ineffective.
History offers clear evidence. In the late nineteenth century, under British rule in undivided India, Rajnarayan Bose founded the National Glory Publishing Society to promote Bengali. Members were required to conduct all discussions in Bengali, and habitual use of English incurred a fine of one paisa per sentence — a significant amount at the time. Despite its sincerity, the initiative failed because it was confined to a narrow elite. Its proponents identified not only as Bengalis but as members of a higher communal and social order, often allowing religious identity to eclipse linguistic solidarity with the people.
At the opposite pole were the followers of Nawab Abdul Latif, who sought to promote Urdu instead of Bengali. Though their linguistic goals differed, both camps shared a crucial trait: distance from the common people and a desire for elevation through elite or communal identity. In this sense, they were not true opposites.
Neither initiative succeeded for a fundamental reason: the absence of state power. The colonial state had no interest in empowering local languages, and without state backing, linguistic reform remained symbolic.
Bangladesh, however, was established in the name of Bengali identity and formally declares Bangla its state language. Why, then, does Bangla remain marginal in administration, education, and governance?
The answer is straightforward. The state claims to want Bangla, but in practice it does not. If it truly did, Bangla would already function fully at all levels. Although the state was created by Bengalis, it has not yet become a people’s state. Its structures and ruling mentality remain largely unchanged from earlier regimes. The ruling elite does not genuinely wish for Bangla to become operational, because doing so would narrow the distance between rulers and ruled.
Throughout history, the language of rulers and the language of the people have rarely been the same. Bengali has always been the language of the masses, while power spoke Sanskrit, Persian, or English. Today there is no king, but there is a ruling class, and it continues this tradition. Its separation from the people is visible in wealth, authority, education, lifestyle and language. English functions as a marker of distinction, signalling that the ruling class is not ordinary.
This preference is reinforced by subservience to global capitalism, whose dominant language is English. The principal adversary of the Bengali language is therefore the country’s ruling class and its desire for easy communication with imperial power. Just as the people are rendered powerless, so too is their language.
The struggle for language is inseparable from the struggle for power. Bengali will be fully established only when the state becomes genuinely democratic and rooted in the people. Any attempt to promote the language without transforming the state will remain reformist, limited and reversible.
The rise of religious fundamentalism in Bangladesh is also linked to the erosion of Bengali linguistic culture. Most fundamentalist groups emerge from educational systems detached from Bengali language, literature and intellectual tradition. At the same time, the unchecked expansion of English-medium education is producing culturally hollow individuals. There is no path to a healthy society without education conducted through the mother tongue.
In short, without confidently establishing Bangla at all levels, Bangladesh cannot become healthy, balanced or forward-moving. Resistance to the cultural aggression of globalisation begins with practising one’s own language. True internationalism grows from firm roots, not from their abandonment.
Author: Emeritus Professor, University of Dhaka
Bd-pratidin English/ Jisan
