The Case for Linguistic Purity

As someone of Pakistani origin, I have always found the widespread tendency to mix languages, particularly English with Urdu or other native tongues, not just hilarious but also deeply inauthentic and, at times, profoundly disturbing. While I am not against learning or mastering foreign languages - in fact, I believe it is an essential skill in today’s world - I strongly feel that a language must be kept pure. This is not merely a matter of aesthetics but a crucial aspect of preserving cultural identity and integrity.

Language is much more than a tool for communication; it is a living repository of history, tradition, and identity. For Pakistanis, languages like Urdu and our regional tongues - Punjabi, Sindhi, Pashto, and Balochi - are vessels carrying centuries of poetry, philosophy, and collective memory. When these languages are diluted with foreign words, particularly English, their unique rhythm and beauty are disrupted, leaving them feeling less authentic and alien even to native speakers like myself. This erosion diminishes not only the aesthetic value of the language but also our cultural sense of self.

You might be wondering why I am writing this essay in English. Let me clarify: I am not opposed to English as a language. In fact, I always strive to enhance my English skills, knowing how valuable it is for personal and professional growth. However, my reason for writing in English here is to reach a broader audience and to apprise non-Pakistani readers of the cultural ills we face. By doing so, I hope to foster a better understanding of the importance of linguistic and cultural preservation among a wider demographic.

Code-switching, or the seamless switching between languages, has become a hallmark of the elite in Pakistan. Among this class, the blending of English with Urdu is more than a habit; it is almost a status symbol. A person’s fluency in English is often equated with his or her level of education and sophistication. In fact, many of the elite boast about their education at English-medium schools as a badge of honor. Strangely, for some, the inability to read or write Urdu or the Arabic script is considered not a shortcoming but something to take pride in - a mark of being "modern" and "worldly." This attitude is not just alarming but a tragic indicator of a class that is increasingly divorced from its own linguistic and cultural heritage.

This confusion is also highlighted by the fact that regional languages like Punjabi are often seen as the language of the underclass. Many Pakistanis feel ashamed to speak Punjabi, and this stigma extends to their efforts to educate their children. Families who climb the social ladder frequently avoid teaching their children Punjabi or even Urdu, opting instead to immerse them exclusively in English. This phenomenon reflects a deep-seated inferiority complex, wherein native languages are relegated to the sidelines as symbols of rurality or backwardness. By abandoning these languages, we risk losing the essence of who we are as a people.

The Pakistani upper class, in this sense, is highly confused. Their cultural identity has been diluted by colonial hangovers and the global prestige attached to English. In their attempt to distinguish themselves as cosmopolitan, they have unwittingly turned away from the very languages that define their roots. This cultural amnesia is unsettling and contributes to a wider social disconnect, where language - meant to unite - is now a marker of class and privilege.

What makes this situation even more puzzling is the contrast with other cultures that have faced similar historical challenges but have managed to preserve their linguistic integrity. Take the example of the Arab world. Like Pakistan, many Arab countries were also subjected to foreign rule - be it British, French, or Ottoman. Despite this, Arabs have largely resisted the urge to dilute their language. Classical Arabic, the language of the Quran, has remained a unifying force, while Modern Standard Arabic has been adapted to contemporary needs without compromising its essence. Arabs have integrated new concepts and terms into their native language rather than resorting to constant code-switching, thus ensuring that their language evolves while retaining its purity.

This ability to modernize and preserve simultaneously is something Pakistan could learn from. While Urdu is a relatively young language compared to Arabic, it possesses a rich literary tradition and immense adaptability. If we take deliberate steps to protect its purity and modernize its vocabulary for scientific, technological, and academic contexts, there is no reason why it cannot thrive like Arabic. The example of the Arabs demonstrates that foreign influence does not have to mean cultural or linguistic erasure; it is possible to adapt without losing one's identity.

In today’s globalized world, the dominance of English is undeniable. It has become the language of technology, business, and international relations. While I understand and respect the need for learning English, I find its overuse in everyday conversations - often at the expense of our native tongues - highly disconcerting. I worry that younger generations, bombarded with English in media, education, and social spaces, may begin to associate it with prestige and modernity while viewing their own languages as outdated or less valuable.

The roots of this issue run deep in the history of colonization. English in South Asia was more than just a means of communication during British rule - it was a tool of power, hierarchy, and control. Even after independence, English has maintained its elite status in Pakistan, becoming a marker of social privilege. To this day, it dominates government, education, and business, leaving native languages to languish on the sidelines. This trend feels like an extension of colonial subjugation, creating a sense of disconnection from our linguistic and cultural roots.

For me, preserving the purity of a language is not simply an idealistic goal; it is essential to maintaining cultural identity. Urdu, for example, is a language of profound poetic beauty, shaped by the influences of Persian and Arabic, and capable of expressing deep emotions and nuanced ideas. When Urdu is inundated with English words, much of its charm and elegance is lost. It becomes a hybrid - neither fully Urdu nor fully English - lacking the depth and character of either.

I recognize that languages naturally evolve over time. As societies encounter new technologies, concepts, and cultural exchanges, borrowing words and adapting is inevitable. Some might even argue that this blending reflects a language’s ability to grow and adapt. But I can’t help but question whether all change is beneficial. When a language becomes overly reliant on foreign words, it risks losing its distinctiveness, its essence, and ultimately its relevance. The unique flavor and identity of a language are worth preserving, and constant dilution with foreign elements threatens that uniqueness.

In my view, the solution lies in reviving and celebrating native languages. Governments and educators have a critical role to play by emphasizing the importance of our mother tongues in schools, universities, and public spaces. Cultural institutions can help by promoting literature, art, and media in Urdu and regional languages, demonstrating their richness and relevance. Writers and poets, too, have a responsibility to showcase the beauty and power of our languages, inspiring younger generations to take pride in them. On an individual level, it is up to all of us to actively speak, read, and write in our native tongues, ensuring that they remain vibrant and alive.

For me, this is about more than just linguistic purity. It’s about preserving a connection to my roots, my identity, and my culture. Language is one of the most powerful expressions of who we are, and letting it slip into disrepair feels like losing a part of ourselves. While the world may find humor or convenience in mixing languages, I believe the preservation of the beauty, authenticity, and cultural significance of our native tongues is a responsibility we must take seriously.