Punjabi and Punjab – Language Policy Development and Implementation

Language planning and policy in the Punjab education system: A critical analysis

by Satwinder Kaur Bains

M.Ed., Simon Fraser University, 2004 B.A., St. Bedes College, 1975

Thesis Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy

in the Curriculum and Theory Implementation Program Faculty of Education

Copyright in this work rests with the author. Please ensure that any reproduction or re-use is done in accordance with the relevant national copyright legislation. Approval

Name: Satwinder Bains Degree: Doctor of Philosophy Title: Language planning and policy in the Punjab education system: A critical analysis

Examining Committee: Chair: Michael Ling Senior Lecturer Mark Fettes Senior Supervisor Associate Professor Steve Marshall Supervisor Associate Professor Danièle Moore Internal Examiner Professor E. Annamalai External Examiner Visiting Professor South Asian Languages and Civilizations University of Chicago

Date Defended/Approved: August 15, 2019

ii Abstract

Since it became an independent country in 1947, India has wrestled with the question of how to manage its vast range of languages. According to the Three- Language Formula, a political compromise originating in the post-independence debates of the 1950s, each federal state should ensure its citizens have access at least to Hindi, English, and a third language that may be a regional language or, in the northern Hindi-speaking states, a language from southern India. Through a study of the historical development and ramifications of this policy, and especially its implementation in the northwestern border state of Punjab, it is shown to align with the long-established tendency for national language planning and policies to entrench historical and sociopolitical inequities. Analysis of Punjab’s public-education policy texts by means of critical discourse analysis highlights the (re)production of political ideologies and social hierarchies in the implementation of State-level language policy within the government-run school system. The sociolinguistic realities of the region are not always reflected in the policy directives that influence public education in Punjab. This case study adds to the literature showing that powerful sociopolitical forces continue to impact the position of vernaculars in India and that its linguistically diverse states and policy frameworks are unable to accommodate numerous languages on the margins.

Keywords: Multilingualism; language policy and planning; official languages; education policy; policy implementation; Punjab; India; critical discourse analysis

iii Dedication

To my beloved family.

iv Acknowledgements

Firstly, I would like to acknowledge and give sincere thanks to my thesis supervisor Dr. Mark Fettes for his undying support for my PhD studies. He has provided me with the vision to work on this topic as a labour of love. With his steady hand, this thesis has become what I hope is my contribution to a field of work that is dynamic and ever changing. He has been patient, motivating, and above all so generous with his knowledge that he shared with me.

I would like to thank Dr. Steve Marshall for being part of my supervisory committee and for his insightful comments and encouragement. Dr. Daniele Moore’s and Dr. E. Annamalai’s willingness to serve as examiners in the middle of the summer vacation is gratefully appreciated.

My family have been absolute rocks in this entire time, they have supported, cajoled and buoyed me along the way. My partner Parm, my children Simran, Suvi and Nav are like the bedrock that one needs along life’s journey. Thank you for all your endless love, your motivational messages and your constant encouragement to me. I could not have done this without you. My parents are smiling down on me, this I know and are beaming with pride, knowing all that it took to embark and stay with this long journey.

v Table of Contents

Approval ...... ii Abstract ...... iii Dedication ...... iv Acknowledgements ...... v Table of Contents ...... vi List of Tables ...... viii List of Figures...... ix List of Acronyms ...... x

Mother Tongue, Languages and Policy Impacts ...... 1 1.1. Introduction ...... 1

Context and Theoretical Framework ...... 14 2.1. Key foci and themes ...... 14 2.2. Why critical theory? ...... 19 2.3. The historical roots of language planning ...... 22 2.4. Critical Theory and LPP ...... 26 2.5. Critical theory and LPP in the Indian Context ...... 28 2.6. Critical theory and LPP in the local context ...... 34

India’s language policy ...... 42 3.1. From Colonialization to Independence ...... 42 3.2. Policy in a Multilingual Democracy ...... 50 3.3. A critical analysis of India’s language policy ...... 59 3.3.1. Hindi and English: rivalry or complicity? ...... 60 3.3.2. The neglect of minority languages ...... 62 3.3.3. Multilingualism in education ...... 65

Methodology ...... 70 4.1. Critical Discourse Analysis and language planning and policy ...... 70 4.2. Data collection ...... 73

Punjabi and Punjab – language policy development and implementation ...... 83 5.1. Punjab and Punjabi: an introduction ...... 83 5.2. History of Punjabi language planning and policy ...... 87 5.3. Punjab School Board of Education ...... 92 5.4. Impact of language planning and policy discourse at the PSEB ...... 99 5.4.1. Circular # 146, Implementation of Parho Punjab, Paraho Punjab Project in Schools, 04/15/.2018 ...... 101 5.4.2. Circular # 5, Model Test Paper Class 8th Science ...... 105 5.4.3. Circular #136, Regarding Punjab State Language Act, 2008, 5/9/2018 ..... 105

vi 5.4.4. Circular #71, Implementation of Buddy Group System in Schools, 12/10/2018 ...... 106 5.4.5. Circular # 100, Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab meeting through Edusat, 08/20/2018; Circular #101, One day workshop on Punjabi subject under Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab Project, 16/08/2018 ...... 107 5.4.6. SCERT Learning outcomes, 2017 related to Circular #144, Display of Learning Outcomes in classrooms, 4/17/2018 ...... 108 5.4.7. Circular # 144, Display of Learning Outcomes in Classrooms, 04/17/2018 109 5.4.8. Circular # 98, Improvement in vocabulary of students for Punjabi subject, 08/28/2018; Circular # 169, English subject competition under Parho Punjab, 2/3/2018 ...... 110 5.4.9. Circular #19 – Admission in pre-primary classes 12/15/2018 ...... 111 5.4.10. Circular #15 -Admission of Students in Govt. Schools, 12/17/2018 ...... 112 5.4.11. Circular #181 - Parent Teacher Meeting, 7/28/2017 ...... 112 5.4.12. Circular # 40 – Punjab Transparency and Accountability in Delivery of Public Services Act 2018, 11/14/2018 ...... 113 5.4.13. Circular # 42, Evaluation of pre-primary students, 11/10/2018 ...... 114 5.4.14. Overall commentary on the policy directive corpus ...... 114 5.5. Issues of language education in Punjab ...... 117 5.6. Language ecology of Punjab ...... 122

Conclusion ...... 128

References ...... 139

Appendix A. List of Authorities ...... 160

Appendix B. Punjab Official Language Policy ...... 161

Appendix C. Eighth Schedule of Indian Constitution ...... 171

Appendix D. Article 343 of the Indian Constitution ...... 174

Appendix E. PSEB Policy Directives ...... 180

Appendix F. Circular #146 Punjabi ...... 187

vii List of Tables

Table 1. Plurilingual Population ...... 51 Table 2. Punjab School Board of Education Policy Division org. chart ...... 95

viii List of Figures

Figure 1. Map of India Pakistan partition 1947 ...... 16 Figure 2. Bifurcation of Punjab ...... 90

ix List of Acronyms

BPEO Block Primary Education Officer BRP Block Resource Person CABE Central Board of Education CBSE Central Board of School Education CDA Critical Discourse Analysis CHT Cluster Head Teachers CMT Cluster Master Teacher CSIE Central Advisory Board of Education DEO District Education Officer DGSE Director General School Education DPI Director Public Instruction DRP District Resource Person DTEIT Department of Teacher Education and Industrial Training ERA English Review Committee NCERT National Council of Education Research and Training NPE National Policy on Education OLA Official Language Act OLC Official Language Commission PSEB Punjab School Education Board RTE Right to Education SCERT State Council of Education Research and Training SPD State Project Director SRC State Reorganization Committee SSA Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan TLF Three Language Formula UEC University Education Commission

Mother Tongue, Languages and Policy Impacts

First, there is no feature of society which is as inevitable as language. Even religion is not inevitable – one can be an atheist, agnostic, secularist, or rationalist. But nobody can live without language; there is no alternative to language. Second, while the possibility of alternatives exists in the case of religion, it is non- accommodative of these alternatives. Nobody can be a Hindu and a Muslim, or an atheist and a believer, at the same time. In contrast, the space for negotiation is substantial in the case of language; one can learn several languages without necessarily diminishing the importance of any. It is simply a matter of one’s inclination, competence and resources.

Oomen, T.K., 2002, p.285.

I know of an Oriya married to a Tamil, speaking English at home, living in a Bengali neighbourhood with children taken care of by a Hindustani Ayah and a Nepali Loon man. I always say that those children have six mother tongues.

Pattanayak, D., 1988, p. 387.

1.1. Introduction

In a particular manner, my own family background and school education inform my desire to study the semiotic relationship of language with members of a linguistic community. I grew up in India, in the former province of Punjab, and my hybrid and fluid linguistic repertoire developed in a private school where English was the medium of instruction (MOI) and the other two languages (Hindi and Punjabi) were subjects within the curriculum. I also spoke Punjabi at home and Hindi was the lingua franca of society generally in northern India where I lived and was schooled. This linguistically rich education was a direct result of a national language policy directed by the Three Language Formula which (even today) provides every student in principle with an opportunity to study Hindi, (the official national language), English (the other national

1 language which is the language of higher education, business and bureaucracy) and a regional tongue (Sengupta, 2018).

Looking back, I am illogically surprised how I had never fully appreciated the background weight of language policy and planning as a political act within the Constitution of India that directly affected my education. Schiffman (2002) disagrees with typologizing language policies as if they have no background, “as if the choice of language policies was totally random, from ‘off the shelf’ as it were, without any relationship to the historical, social, cultural, educational or religious conditions extant in a particular area” (p. 5). This is confirmed by my experience. I had grown up in the aftermath of the horrific land-division in the 1947 partition including the division of India’s frontier province of Punjab (on religious lines) between West Pakistan and a reduced Indian state Punjab, and had heard hushed stories of great pain, extreme violence, and loss of life, home, land, languages, cultural spaces, friends, etc. in the midst of communal conflict and religious strife. As a result, all the conditions listed above (historical, social, cultural, educational and religious) were present in everyday discourse in my formative years.

In undivided Punjab (before 1947), while my father’s mother tongue growing up was Punjabi, his middle-class gentrified urban schooling was in Urdu and English as directed by language policies of the British Raj; my mother’s rural education had been solely in Punjabi. As children, living in the Hindi majority province of Himachal Pradesh, we switched between Punjabi, Hindi and English with ease because we lived amongst all three languages, which were available to us as communities of practice. Culturally, as a family, we were holding on to our Punjabi roots (Punjabiyat) even though we lived in Hindi-centric Shimla, which was the capital city of the newly created state (est. 1966). In these complicated conditions, I received my formative education in the English language, learned Hindi and Punjabi as subjects, practiced the Sikh faith in a predominantly Hindu (and Hindi speaking) state while studying in an all-girls English medium Protestant school.

As for most Indians, this diverse linguistic and cultural upbringing did not bind or constrain me within a single language or culture, and in hindsight I believe it helped expand my frames of reference. I chose values of linguistic form freely from amongst these three languages. The diverse linguistic cultures around me impressed upon me

2 how languages are socially constructed. Having access to/utility in these rich and diverse environments of India (Mohanty, 2019a) provided me with an ecological orientation to my repertoire of languages.

However, time passed and I immigrated to Canada in 1975, settling into Vancouver society and paying scant attention to the need for mother tongue retention as I negotiated my new racially constructed identity (now informed by the gaze of the dominant other, the white Anglo Canadian culture of British Columbia). It was only when I wanted to share my own language pool with my children that I started to appreciate and realize the intrinsically value-laden trajectory of language maintenance. I became more aware that as a young person I had lived through and experienced languages in socio- cultural contexts that were different from those in Canada and I had done this with relative ease. Although in Canada these languages still embodied means of familial interaction and communication, my mother tongue was slowly fading from expression with my children. They quickly mastered the dominant language, and to some extent pushed away the mother tongue, partly due to stressful linguistic societal norms and the forces of assimilationist expectations in Canadian society in the 1980’s and 90’s (Nayar, 2004).

When my children joined the public-school system in Canada in 1984, I found it hard to reconcile myself to the singularly bi-lingual policy of Canada, which in its implementation falls well short of assuring fluency in two languages in most of Canada. Although I embraced bilingual education wholeheartedly and enrolled my children in French Immersion schooling in the public education system, I felt this constant void around access to their heritage language/ mother tongue. Furthermore, actual prejudice and discrimination – what Skutnabb-Kangas & Phillipson call linguicism (2008, 1994) – was something my children encountered on many occasions. For example, in 1994 a teacher discouraged us as parents from speaking Punjabi with our child, because in the teacher’s estimation we were undermining her attempts to learn French and English in school as there were too many languages in the home. I was appalled (and felt violated) by her ignorant, paternalistic and limiting approach, because I knew that over time the dominant school languages would naturally dominate my children’s everyday lives.

It is this thought – of the power of languages and the impact of linguicism – that instigated the underlying urgency for my intellectual path, leading me back to my polyglot

3 roots in India. I had been nurturing a growing realization that just as in Canada, India too struggles with how language is (or languages are) called upon to be an enduring factor in defining a nation-state and used to support certain dominant ideologies through its prescribed usage. Shohamy’s (2006) view reflects my own: “While most nations nowadays, more than ever before, consist of diverse groups – immigrants, indigenous populations, transnationals, and others, it is primarily through language that the battles between homogenous ideologies, hegemony and power vs. diversity, voice, representation and inclusion continue to take place” (p.4).

It is also commonly understood that linguistic discrimination is linked to other forms of prejudice, stereotypes and historical inequities towards students for whom English is not the first language. For example, Dei et al (2002, 2000) undertook a three- year study in Ontario to document the reasons for racially marginalized students’ disengagement in schools. They concluded: “Differences associated with race, gender, class, sexuality, language, culture, religion, and region must be recognized as social realities. To promote and work toward a truly inclusive society, educators must understand and teach about differences and how they are related to power” (p.62). It is this intersectionality of our social lives that brings to the fore the importance of home language maintenance and retention as a foundation to combat the kinds of adversity language-minority children face in schools. Heller (2017), along with other scholars suggests that the development and maintenance of society’s social hierarchies and ensuing inequities is linked to language, supporting the view that educational equity must be addressed through the work of social justice (Piller, 2016; Corson, 1993). The power and corresponding entrenched structural disadvantages that are inherent in the social, political and economic use of languages are well documented (Piller, 2016; Heller, 2014; Fairclough, 1995; Gal, 1989; Irvine, 1989).

Meshtrie (2008), in his study on the world’s linguistic varieties, suggests that there are almost no countries in the world “where everyone speaks or identifies with one language” (p.74). Khubchandani (1997) rightly supports this claim for India when he says that, “in multilingual societies of the Indian subcontinent, one notices an inevitable measure of fluidity in the verbal repertoire of many speech groups who command native like control over more than one language” (p.182). The difficulty is as Mohanty (2019a) suggests, where in India, this fluidity of linguistic boundaries has been used to arbitrarily club large numbers of mother tongues under a single ‘other” by government for example

4 in the census. However, what is unique about India’s state of multilingualism is the hierarchical tension between and across languages and language groups, especially around the privileged role of English – a throwback to the three hundred years of British Raj. The British colonial rulers had inculcated within the Indian masses dimensions of linguistic elitism, classism and power hierarchy to rival that of the caste system in Hinduism (Mohanty, 2019a, Amritavalli & Jayaseelan, 2007; Mohanty, 2006; Spolsky, 2006; Biswas, 2004; Pattanayak, 1988).The tensions between this top-down system of rank and privilege and a fluidity of boundaries within grassroots multilingualism are most dramatically exemplified in India than perhaps anywhere else in the world (Mohanty, 2019a).

Historically, India’s biggest challenge post-independence, has been to create a national identity, with linguistic identity as a central element of that. Despite the best efforts of language planning and policy over the last seventy years, the hierarchical tension between and across languages and language groups has persisted. The desire of many minority language speakers to make Hindi and English (which are bolstered by the Hindutva nationalists and the professional elite respectively) subservient to the mother tongue remains unfulfilled till date. On the other hand, India remains a uniquely multilingual nation-state which provides the researcher with rich opportunities to critically examine the socio-political genesis and impact of national language policies as enacted by state authorities. The implementation of language policies in a multilingual India offers a window into a complex linguistic ecology, highlighting apparent disparities of equality, unequal access and utility (Bhattacharya, 2014). Mohanty (2017) states, “language as a cultural capital is a critical link to education and access to social resources. In multilingual societies, languages are associated with power and hierarchy; some languages enable greater access to privileges and social opportunities and others lead to deprivation and discrimination” (p. 262).

My own experiences in Canada were instrumental in helping me recognize the links between language policies and the political, social and historically situated inequities of region, race, class, power, ethnicity and nationality. Without a doubt, language is a marker of identity and a determiner of who has access to political power, economic resources and ideological control. Language planning in linguistically heterogeneous societies like India is most often designed to preserve the strong foothold of majority languages while relegating “other” languages to secondary status

5 (Khubchandani, 2008). The relationship between structures of power and multilingual discourse practices, and the influence of this relationship on the implementation of language policies, is a central theme of this study. Bhatia (2012) suggests that “natural forces of networking and communication” impact multilingualism in India rather than “externally imposed models and government planning” (p. 483). Tollefsen’s (1991) definition of language planning and policy (LPP) is relevant, as it frames it in terms of social practices influenced by identity, ideology, power, access to resources etc.:

Language planning-policy means the institutionalization of language as a basis for distinction among social groups. That is, language policy is one mechanism for locating language within social structures so that language determines who has access to political power and economic resources. Language policy is one mechanism by which dominant groups establish hegemony in language use (p. 16).

As an applied linguist, Tollefsen’s early work (1991) in language planning and policy (LPP) situated the ongoing conflict between capitalist elites on one hand and the populace on the other as a class struggle for control over political power and social, cultural and economic resources. In such struggles, the position of the weaker class is complicated as recognized by Bourdieu (1991) in Language and Symbolic Power the subjugated, “recognize or tacitly acknowledge the legitimacy of power, or of the hierarchical relations of power in which they are embedded; and hence they fail to see that the hierarchy is, after all, an arbitrary social construction which serves the interests of some groups more than others” (p.23). In her study of language and politics in India, Sarangi (2009) rightly points out, “The language question should not be reduced simply to the problem of language planning, policy and programmes, but should take into account the ideological power of language(s) and its various forms of domination and subordination” (p.2). I have endeavoured to keep this principle in the forefront throughout this study.

In view of this power of language(s), it must be pointed out here that there has been a paradigm shift in the depth and breadth of scholarship in LPP. The last four decades have seen a growing commitment in societies around the world to various forms of multilingualism (versus monolingualism) as an ideal for societies and for individuals – moving from language as a problem to language as a resource (Baker, 2011; Ricento, 2006; Ruiz, 1988). Schools are a crucial part of this movement (Blommaert et al, 2005; Cummins, 2000). For example, teaching “multilinguality” - a term

6 coined by Agnihotri (2014) – as a pedagogical practice “treats the multilinguality of each child in the classroom as a resource and uses it for ongoing linguistic and cognitive growth” (p. 365) because, “the language of every child is important, and there is a very careful attempt to make sure that the multilinguality of every child becomes a part of the pedagogical process” (Agnihotri, 2014, p. 365). Even while there is recognition that “multilingualism is a world phenomenon” (Edwards, 2003, p. 3) what is also important to note is the attitudes towards it both in education as a practice and within the general public (Blommaert et al, 2005).

“The choice of language education policy is among the most critical and complex issues facing modern society” (Spolsky, 1980, p. xiii). As a country India has 22 officially recognized state (or regional) languages and two official national languages. A large number of minority languages (indigenous, tribal etc.) remain without any recognition or government support (Mohanty, 2019 b). National language policies and state polices have been an important issue for policy makers, language planner and education officials since before India’s Independence. This study seeks to bring an understanding of the socio-political nature of language planning and policy in India from the time of Independence to the current moment by looking at one state in the country.

Research Questions:

My thesis is a policy study of India’s Three Language Formula and the historical antecedents that impact language planning and policy in the state of Punjab. My research questions are positioned within India’s language planning and policy as it impacts the public schooling systems in the northwestern region of India in the state of Punjab. How do historically influenced socio-cultural and political implications of India’s national language planning and policies, intersect with the power dynamics/relationships within language practices, language ideologies and management practices in the state of Punjab? Does India’s multilingual policy implementation respond to the larger sociolinguistic reality of the state of Punjab and inequities inherent within society? Using critical discourse analysis, I study policy texts to research how policy implementation processes work to reproduce political ideologies of the state and how do these processes respond to inequalities in the education systems of the state? How does the historic structural ecology of language planning and policy in Punjab affect my findings?

7 The major issues examined in this study include the following:

1. Historical and political processes undertaken to develop India’s language planning and polices post-Independence

2. How these major historical and contextual factors determined and influenced policy planning objectives and future implementation

3. The planning and policy processes undertaken in the state of Punjab to ensure language policy formulation, decision making and implementation within a complicated and highly bureaucratic structure of education administration

4. The impact of the national and state policies and planning implementation as reflected in multilingual education directives developed by powerful state policy actors that reflect political and social ideologies of the state in response to national policies

The challenges present for me are how to make meaning of how complex language planning and policy in a multilingual country like India which has an immense population, complex language systems, with its multi-cultural nature and a highly centralized political system can influence implementation of language polices in its various states. To address this challenge, case studies are effective ways to clarify connections between macro (federal) and micro (state) political entities, guided by critical discourse analysis as a methodology and critical social theory as a theoretical framework.

As well, it goes without saying that the effect of language policy on the quality of education is critically important for any study on the topic. Benson (2019) suggests that, “policymakers are paying more attention to the essential role of learners’ own languages and ways of knowing in improving the quality of education for all” (p. 29). However, in this study I do not investigate the pedagogical models of education in mother tongue and multiple language education in Punjab in order to fully understand any gains or losses through multilingual education. I do not provide data on the different linguistic outcomes of public and private schools, although I did find information on the State Council of Educational Research and Training’s (SCERT) efforts to provide resources to improve

8 quality education in Punjab. The Division of Educational Survey and Assessment mandate is to: “lead and coordinate all national and state level surveys on learning outcomes in the State” (SIECHD, 2018). As I undertook my research on language planning and policy in Punjab, I did not find any research on schools run by linguistic communities where minority languages are taught and could not ascertain whether the Education Department gives these schools policy and planning support.

In India, education is a federal mandate which is enshrined within the Indian Constitution as a fundamental right to children between the ages of 6-14. The National Education Policy, 2019 (NEP 2019) draft is proposing that this right be extended to secondary school children and early childhood education. Given this possibility, in assessing the progress made by India in elementary education, a World Bank report states that education is a powerful instrument to combat poverty and inequality while enhancing India’s competitiveness in the global economy. In response, India has made a concerted effort to develop national policies that are linked to country-wide economic reforms. The highly centralized system works in this way for public education: “Central funds are earmarked for particular sector or program. The Centre transfers money through specific purpose grants (called the Centrally Sponsored Schemes (CSS)) for schemes drawn up by the Centre which are to be implemented by the states” (Sankar, 2007, p. 2). While the Centre provides the larger policy guidelines through Schemes, the states take on the responsibly to implement them within their own political ideologies that are state sanctioned and provides the means for education to their citizens.

Language planning and policy has been a complex task historically and especially in contemporary times as India has matured as a new nation post- independence. The country has striven for national unity through language (as one element) within claims that celebrate its linguistic and cultural diversity (Brass, 2004). Within the funding model, on the one hand the national policy overlays Hindi and English as mandatory languages (with allowable choice of hierarchy) for the states, and on the other, states have the freedom to choose a third language (and sometimes fourth and fifth languages) from a national Schedule of Languages (Schedule VIII) based on the linguistic landscape of the region. The cost of implementing further minority (indigenous or tribal) languages is untenable for most states and as such these desires remain under-resourced and under-planned (Mohanty, 2019b). The National Education Policies give lip service to the preservation and development of minority languages which have

9 no Constitutional guarantees. Multilingualism has been an accepted norm and part of everyday life in India and within the education system, the formalization of language policies post-independence has provided the states with functioning frameworks that states like Punjab have further developed to meet their political and ideological ideals.

I undertook this study over a period of a year in Punjab by collecting data (texts) on language policy directives (circulars) developed by Punjab School Board of Education (PSEB) policy actors for implementation in local public schools, as they related/responded to language policy frameworks of both the Centre and the State. The corpus of PSEB policy daily circulars that I studied included 182 policies which were developed by different policy departments in the Board offices. The directives (almost exclusively written in the Punjabi language) were usually presented under the signature of the Director General of School Education, or the Director of Public Instruction, Elementary and Secondary Education or the Director of SCERT among other Divisional heads. This data provided valuable texts for discourse analysis As well, I sought to understand the historic and current national policy planning mechanisms that informed and continue to inform language policy implementation in India and Punjab through a textual analysis of historic policy frameworks. My research approach was to study language policy texts and directives that support these policies within a social, political context. I seek to show how ideologies influence language policy choices and the consequent reproduction of these ideologies within the discourse. As part of this study, I did not research how these policy directives were received on the ground and the levels of compliance and any resistance. This extensive field work would make up part of any future research for me.

Texts provide a primary source of data for my thesis allowing me to apply existing theories to new data to be able to find new meaning in the language of the texts. Decision making texts especially provide the opportunity to look at politically relevant problems that are being developed, rectified or corrected. In the case of India’s language planning and policy, policies of the nation influence policies of the state and some diffusion is bound to occur in the transfer. India’s national language framework is entrenched within the Three Language Formula which is complimentarily reflected in the Punjab Languages Act 2008. I am interested in what if any liberties show up in the state policy in Punjab. As an interest group, Punjab’s preferences with the national policy are evident in the choice of languages that respond/reflect its particular linguistic landscape.

10 In a feedback response, is Punjab able to implement its language policy in a manner it sees fit within the national framework? Policy is most certainly affected by public discourse and by changing attitudes, as India comes out from under its colonial yolk as a truly world economic power. I would say this era is stage two in the POLA policy framework as India decides its future as a global economy.

My thesis is framed within an understanding of India’s language planning and policy processes as a nation, and its applicability in the state of Punjab. In this manner, I concentrate on the discourse within the text of policy directives issued by the Punjab School Education Board (PSEB). The Punjabi language texts provide the data required for critical analysis of political ideologies present in the text as a fulsome response to all constituents in the public education system. My interest is in analyzing the placement of language in certain parts of texts to be presented to the intended audience to show intent of both power and authority and expected compliance. Extraction of specific information to deduce the underlying dimensions of language use is useful for language policy analysis.

I begin my thesis with the philosophical underpinnings that link language to identity, drawing on different strands of thinking from the personal, to the historic and into contemporary times. I argue that linguistic identity is critical to the understanding of conflicts in lived realities of space and territoriality in the planning and policy arena. Chapter two provides the contextual historic frames that provide reference for theoretical underpinnings that link language planning and policy to social, cultural and political power, as differentiated realities of both the nation-state and policy planning in Punjab. There are many sociopolitical determining factors that interact with the fundamental tension of social criticism in the framing processes of India’s LPP.

Chapter three places this study in its appropriate historical and societal context. I look at how India promulgated a linguistically rich language planning and policy post- Independence, which although hard fought for at the time of Independence proved to be partly a continuation of the colonial mindset. Post-colonial India’s ruling class continued to elevate English as a political and economically important language that even today helps to define (and maintain) the role of intellectual and economic elites throughout the country. At the same time, the politically charged agenda (of language rights) played a critically important part in the nation-state design as Free India was newly carved up on

11 linguistic lines. I discuss the implications of this history for the current status of local vernaculars within the official language policies of the Centre and the State.

In chapter four I present the methodological approach of this study and the rationale for and interpretation of critical discourse analysis as the major methodological orientation whereby the structural function of LPP is a form of social control. In all this I am guided by my positionality – epistemologically and historically as a western scholar (Canadian) in an eastern setting (Indian), albeit a setting that I was immersed in for almost twenty of my formative years. The corpus of language policy directives (182 circulars in the Punjabi language) developed and issued by the PSEB policy managers are the primary texts that I critically analyze for this study.

Chapter five presents my findings from Punjab of how language planning and policy in that state has shaped language education implementation and how the policy is enacted at the bureaucratic level. I rely on policy directive (texts) developed by policy actors in Punjab and the study of language policy documents to address this study’s specific research questions. Policy texts reveal how policy actors undertake a complex and vigilant role in institutionalizing Punjabi language in the public system, supported and bolstered by language policies that aim to influence the education of children in the K-12 public-system. The policies provide tools to achieve linguistic goals in the face of competing interests and the complex inequalities inherent in systems and society.

My thesis concludes in chapter six with a response to address the inequities inherent in top down language planning and policy mechanisms of India. From my findings it is evident that the individual, the community, and the nation all intersect in language planning and policy, but the important issue is implementation in the face of the social and economic inequities inherent in Indian society. The goal of my study was to gain a deeper understanding of an Indian state’s response to national language policies that impact public school education by locating the study in Punjab. I sought to analyse the work of School Board administrators in their role as policy actors as they implemented national and state policy directives for schools in the public education system.

By examining language planning and policy in the Indian context and by focusing on policy implementation process across the nation and state, this study seeks to

12 contribute to the conceptual knowledge of language planning and policy both from a socio-political historical perspective and its current impact. This study is unique in that, it ventures to shed light on the policy implementation discourse in the public policy arena.

Context and Theoretical Framework

2.1. Key foci and themes

The primary focus of my study is the northwestern state of Punjab in India, a region that has had a rich and conflicting history both with the nation and with foreign invaders since millennia. The history and contemporary situation of India’s language policy frameworks are described in greater detail in Chapter 3, but an initial orientation is called for here. Historically, Punjab comprised a rich alluvial plain watered by five rivers and a diverse socio-political-religious-linguistic landscape (Panwahar et al, 2018). In 1947, at the time of Independence, the retreating British colonial rulers carved up India on religious grounds, creating a new nation state of East and West Pakistan on its eastern and western borders (see map below). As an old civilization, India was confronted in 1947 with developing new ideas about what it meant to be a free nation, to develop its citizen’s nationality and desired nationalism that as Anderson (1983) suggests, require time to understand in order to fulfill the emotional legitimacy of such ‘imagined’ powerful concepts. Gellner (1983) suggests nationalism is a sociological condition, as countries transitioned from agrarian states to industrial societies which urbanized, modernized and grew labour markets that brought in economic growth. At Independence, the conditions were ripe in India as a largely agrarian country, for the growth of education and a kind of linguistic unification (or homogenization/standardization) at the national level to slowly take root in the country. As evidenced in Chapter 3, the elite found fecund ground to enable their own power and privilege both culturally and linguistically as the ‘managed’ the planning processes.

When Punjab was split in two by the new international boundary, it made the Punjabi language perhaps the greatest long-term geo-linguistic loss for India. Half of Punjab’s land mass was now designated as Punjabi in West Pakistan, taking with it a large majority of Punjabi speaking Muslims (see map below). Punjabi is the religious and cultural language of Sikhs, who are a linguistic and religious minority in India, making up roughly 2.9% of its population. The language issue has always been politically charged in Punjab, which like most states in India is linguistically rich and

14 diverse. Within this diversity, at Independence, Muslim Punjabis (those who stayed in India) opted for Urdu and Hindu Punjabis for Hindi as identity markers (Brass, 1974), while many Punjabi speakers left India and became citizens of Pakistan, settling in West Pakistan’s largest province of Punjab. However, in India’s East Punjab (now reduced to a half of its original geographical region), Punjabi developed its position as the official state language (although after great political wrangling), partly because of the high concentration of Punjabi Sikhs, for whom Punjabi is both their mother tongue and the language for religious instruction.

Religious systems in India have strong recognition as a “large cultural system” (Anderson, 1983, p. 12) which were harnessed by those with political power as systems that preceded the work of nationalism. Within the context of key events like India’s independence and partition of Punjab, structural systems were developed by the dominant groups with the authority to plan national policies and frameworks supporting India’s goals of maintaining its rich multilingual orientation. It was an opportunity for the powerful elite at the time to ensure the status quo of Hindi and English within language policy frameworks as they developed.

Figure 1. Map of India Pakistan partition 1947 Source: http://origins.osu.edu/milestones/december-2017-india-pakistan-partition

India’s Punjab region is thus unique, in that a minority religiously defined linguistic community (Sikh/Punjabi) has a majority foothold in a small geographical region, unmatched in the same manner anywhere else in the country (Virdee, 2018). While this unusual situation has allowed Punjabi to be retained and even flourish, the pressures of Hindi as a national official language and the appeal of global English are increasingly impacting the continued wellbeing of the region’s majority language. It is noteworthy that notwithstanding Punjab’s traditionally rich and robust economy, India’s nationalist project at partition had sought to subsume the language within Hindi’s superior official standing, producing a strong response by Punjabis for Punjabi as their official language. Later chapters, in particular Chapter 5, will look at these issues in more detail.

Understanding the language ecology of Punjab requires an analysis of the broader linguistic, social and political context in India. When dealing with a state official language and two co-official nationally sanctioned languages, one is also dealing with the intersecting complex Indian class and caste based social stratifications and

16 hierarchies. These kinds of on-the-ground hierarchies and inequities have historically presented and continue to present a real challenge to language policy, planning and implementation. Supporting this view, Ramanathan (2007), in his study on the dominant status of English in India, sums it up by stating that we must “re-think, re-envision and re-enact” (p. 99) local linguistic realities and the language polices associated with them. My study seeks to contribute to this larger effort.

One of the earliest studies of language planning and policy implementation with respect to Punjabi, Pandit’s (1978) study of Punjabi use in Delhi schools, found that attitudes towards the language by both parents and students supported mother tongue acquisition in the classroom, only after English had been assured its favoured position. This illustrates how persistent and ubiquitous the pressures in favour of English have been, and similar attitudes can be found in Punjab today. Indeed, Annamalai (2013) in his study of “medium of instruction” (MOI) in India — i.e. the choice of language in which school subjects are taught — reports that English is the most frequently chosen MOI (if choice is an option) and is the only language taught in all states, further solidifying its dominant status as a “hypercentral language” (De Swaan, 2001) in Indian society.

This plays itself out in Punjab society in all kinds of ways. For example, the elite English-speaking minority (who are numerically over-represented in English MOI private schools) in Punjab dominate those whose MOI is Punjabi by maintaining a stranglehold on job opportunities in government jobs, civil service, army elite, international business, etc. which demand a strong command of English (Brass, 2004). The intermediate elite aspire to these life chances as well, in turn increasing the demand for English language skills, thus ensuring even lesser value placed on the mother tongue for future employment (Block, 2018). Further, public schools with Punjabi MOI are usually attended by children from lower to middle socio-economic status families, leaving them to fill jobs without the same financial benefit as those listed above and not requiring the same level of English fluency.

Building on such observations in many different contexts, La Dousa (2015), Annamalai (2013) and Ramanthan (2005) have suggested that class divisions on linguistic lines are directly correlated with different access to political, social, economic and cultural resources in India. In particular, lack of access to English language in schools directly affects life chances for its citizens. This is indeed a worldwide

17 phenomenon, whereby middle-and upper-class children have greater access to English and as a result greater access to resources (Ricento, 2018, Relano-Pastor, 2018, Ricento, 2015). In India, the English-speaking elite fill the highest posts in the Indian Administrative Service, corporate industry and international institutions doing business in India (Brass, 2004). As a result, language policy makers have been questioning whether it is beneficial for the mother tongue as the MOI to be stretched over the full educational experience of students with limited/late access to English (Khubchandani, 1997, p. 183).

In the complex milieu of India’s linguistically diverse schools, an important consideration for language policy planners is how, after being schooled in the mother tongue as MOI, students are suddenly confronted with Indian norms upon entrance to post-secondary education, where the language of the entrance qualifier exam and the MOI of subsequent instruction is English. Unfortunately, India’s language policy frameworks are silent on this educational transition and limited English-language learning in regional-language MOI schools continues to foster uneven access to higher education and future gainful employment (Bhattacharya, 2014). According to Annamalai (2012), centralized development related economic policies are demanding the English language training of future Indian technocrats and bureaucrats in science and technology, entrenching “a fundamental division between those who attend higher education and those who leave school in elementary or secondary levels” (p. 193).

Sheth (2009), on the other hand, argues that “making knowledge of English a blanket requirement for entry into higher education is not a sustainable policy” (p. 294). This inequity remains a critical issue for language policy planners.

Along with the powerful influence of English, the national tongue (Hindi) has a mandated strong presence in Punjab. Political history shows that Punjabi speaking Sikhs and Hindi speaking Hindus have been at odds with each other more often on linguistic rather than ideological grounds (Khubchandani, 1997). Brass concurs: “The primary symbols of Sikh and Hindu competition have been linguistic. Increasingly in the Punjab, the competition for the allegiance of particular groups has been in the arena of linguistic conflict and the politically important marks of groups identification have been language and script” (Brass, 1974, p. 286). The historic antecedents of this situation are explained in chapter five, but, in brief, they stem from the carving out of linguistic states envisioned by the Congress building up to Independence in 1947, and pursued under a succession

18 of central governments in the 1950s and 60s. A language policy initiative of particular importance was the Sachar Formula, proposed in 1949 by the central government to address the contentious linguistic needs within Punjab. The Formula specified the method of selecting the medium of instruction in schools:

Hindi in the Hindi speaking areas and Punjabi in the Punjabi speaking areas, as demarcated, were to be the media of instruction in their regions, but the parents or guardians of the pupils were to have the right to opt for Hindi in the Punjabi region or Punjabi in the Hindi region provided there was sufficient demand for such options in the class or school (Brass, 1974, p. 339).

These principles were incorporated in the bilingually oriented Punjabi Official Language Act of 1967 and continue to be relevant to the linguistic situation today. It is here that my work begins to critically engage with language planning and policy in a way that elucidates the historical framing of language policy in India by a dominant political elite and its continuing influence in education today.

2.2. Why critical theory?

As a reflexive researcher, and in an effort to analyze language planning and policy and its processes in relation to society, I apply critical social theory to the study of historical dominance of certain discourses, texts and voices in the field. As McCarty (2013) suggests we must, “recognize the planning-policy-making process and the field of LPP itself as ideological and discursive, reflecting and (re)producing class, race, language and power” (p.40). To fulfill critical theory’s goal of being explanatory, practical and normative (Bohman, 2016), my investigation in LPP explores the political struggles that make up the development and implementation of policy and the clues offered in policy texts to the contested spaces/contexts between dominant language(s) in India. My research experiences are in keeping with the suggestion by Codó (2018) is that, as “legitimators of language and regulators of access to it, contemporary institutions are spaces defined by discursive tensions, where old and new policies, practices and discourses coexist, compete and interlock in unexpected ways” (p.480). As a linguist, Codó’s work on multilingual policy practice in Spain with a critical perspective on language speaks to the issues of inequities in the process of policy implementation. So too, do I look at policy’s that impact and influence inequities in Indian society.

19 Traditionally, LPP has almost always served the interests of a particular set of elites (the educated and dominant classes), and I submit that the development of the LPP tradition has entailed a kind of wilful blindness towards its embedded political ideology. However, LPP is also situated in an ever-shifting world where critical theorists imagine alternatives to what we currently endure. In this chapter, I suggest that a rethinking of LPP that centralizes the epistemological perspectives and social realities of learners has the potential to work towards the possibility of social transformation (Codó, 2018). As Codó (2018) suggests, by applying a multidisciplinary historical structural approach to conduct critical research of education policy with the required depth of analysis, I seek to advance the emancipatory goals of knowledge based on action in response to the influence and hegemony of inequitable societal conditions in everyday life.

Within the tradition of liberal education, education is generally considered to be a public good, based on moral and ethical considerations, “in the sense that individuals receive personal benefits and growth from it, and it is part of the public good as schools are places in which the concept is developed in students, which benefits all society” (Broom, 2011, p. 142). However, this ideal does not take into account that societies are never free of conflict, and hence public goods are open to contestation. To explore the depth of the conflict between society and the individual, critical theorist Habermas (1996) claims that general interests have to be critically examined. This critical examination includes understanding the lived experiences of diverse stakeholders so as to develop the possibility of a truly pluralist response. Further, a complex examination of these interests also exposes the biases inherent in the claim that certain interests in any society are universal or that resistance to those interests is unrelated to the political and economic life processes of society. In one influential formulation, critical theory does not argue that “all referents for meaning and representation have disappeared; rather, it seeks to make them problematic and in doing so re-inscribes and rewrites the boundaries for establishing the condition for the production of meaning and subjectivity” (Aronowitz & Giroux, 1999, p. 227).

In analyzing the function of such criticism in education, Leonardo’s (2004) work on critical social thought in education and structural relations of power that need to be dismantled in order to put forward knowledge’s emancipatory function, addresses transformative knowledge by stating,

20 Although different forms of critical social theory may debate the nature of oppression—such as economics in Marxism, discourse in Foucauldian analysis, gender in feminism, or race in critical race theory—they converge on the idea that social inequality is stubborn, the persistence of which subverts students’ full learning potential. Thus, critical social theorists are not in the habit of justifying that oppression exists, but prefer describing the form it takes. Instead, their intellectual energy is spent on critiquing notions of power and privilege, whether in the form of cash or culture (p.13).

In keeping with the stubborn nature of inequality, I suggest that this stubbornness is also on full view when we examine how the state manages society’s languages. In general, language policy frameworks can create new meanings between people, with people and for people (through form and content). Rather than constituting their own autonomous realm concerned only with “language”, language policy documents represent interventions in the social order of struggle and oppression.

Thus, the philosophy of critical theory is a useful tool to constitute the lived linguistic experiences of people as a central part of their struggle for emancipation from hegemonic rules and practices. LPP has often been a means for those with power, privilege and status (the dominant groups) to assert themselves over those who are within their grip (the marginalized). In such cases, the marginalized groups remain outside the boundaries of knowledge-making. Tollefsen and Pérez-Milans, (2018) write about the critical turn in the 1990’s, “which examined the processes by which language is associated with power and inequality: (p. 7). Using a critical approach to LPP, my hope is to understand how the needs of marginalized groups could transform the language policy arena if their experiences, needs and perspectives were made explicit and were contrasted against those of the dominant groups. Spolsky (2012) states that while ministries of education formulate and develop plans and policies, community concerns are not truly evident in their processes and inequities are not dismantled. Everyday contexts do not always align with the broader consequences of language policies in the communities for whom (we believe) the planning should have occurred for in the first place.

The politics of equality situate knowledge within conflicts that are social and historical in nature, rather than simply textual or semiotic contradictions. However, the question remains: who has the power to shift ideologies and move the status quo? I suggest that true shift occurs when those on the sidelines erase the margins on their own terms, presenting their own needs, not to be accommodated, but to be self-defined

21 – e.g. language needs being met (in this case) both for identity and linguistic preservation.

2.3. The historical roots of language planning

Before embarking on a critique of LPP as a general endeavour, and more specifically of its role in India and Punjab, it will be helpful to review its historical and ideological origins.

The term “language planning” was coined by Einar Haugen (1959) in reference to Norway’s response to its divergent languages and the “consequent mutual incomprehensibility” (p.293). He suggested that language planning was a necessary process, a tool towards a standard national language policy in a country in the interests of national unity and efficient communication. In this original formulation, Haugen defined language planning as “the activity of preparing a normative orthography, grammar, and dictionary for the guidance of writers and speakers in a non-homogeneous speech community” (p. 8). In his earlier works (Haugen, 1953), had suggested that bilingualism was understood as an alteration between two discrete codes in meaningful utterances, but my experiences on the ground are contrary to this idea. Many languages in my social reality existed as an intertwined mesh that allowed for a constant flow, borrowing and intersection, not alternating as Haugen suggests, as we code switched with ease. The standardization of languages involving the official choices (politically mandated) about the corpus of a language (its prestige, its unifying presence, stability etc.), went against the grain of everyday (polyglossia) occurrences in India (Schiffman, 1998, 2011).

Language planning was thus seen from the outset as something of a specialized discipline that must respond to more general linguistic, political and social goals. Early in the LPP discussions, Rubin and Jernudd (1971) clearly stated that language planning occurs when “changes in the systems of language code or speaking or both are planned by organizations that are established for such purposes or given a mandate to fulfill such purposes” (p. xvi). Fettes (1997) suggests that the features of language consistent with its standardized and widespread use “are not natural characteristics for any language: they are the result of the more-or-less conscious influence of various powerful groups and institutions around sociolinguistic norms. In its most conscious, explicit and rationalized form, such influence is known as language planning” (p.13). Language

22 policy, on the other hand, is the implementation of planning by those who hold positions of power, predicating the need for mutual relationships in this context. Importantly, as Canagarajah (2006) points out, language policy is intertwined with language relationships and may evolve in unpredictable ways, since ideologies “are not necessarily rational, pragmatic or objective” (p.154). Herein lies the crux of the difficulty in prescribing a normative grammar, orthography and dictionary as a means for language planning in multilingual societies like India. There is a clear distinction between the related concepts of language planning as a macro sociopolitical activity which occurs at the national and governmental level and language policy “which works at an institutional level, testing …ideas against actual practice to promote the development of better…language planning models” (Fettes, 1997, p. 14).

Traditionally, it has been viewed that there are two kinds of language planning and policy: corpus planning where a national standard is developed, and status planning where the standard is positioned for use versus other language varieties (a type of influence) (Cooper, 1989; Kloss, 1969). However, Cooper (1989) took the concept a bit further and introduced acquisition planning as the “organized efforts to promote the learning of a language” (p.157). He argued that when language use is being directed towards increasing the numbers of readers, writers, listeners, or speakers (i.e. society), this increased contact influences complex change in function and form. He suggested that linguistic function, form and acquisition are closely related, and that the third focus requires equal attention.

According to Fettes (1997), an integrated approach to deliberate influence on language status and use would include all of these domains: language standardization through lexical expansion and standardized orthography (corpus); legal, political and cultural measures to manage attitudes towards the language (status); and literacy and language education (acquisition):

Language planning….must be linked to the critical evaluation of language policy; the former providing standards of rationality and effectiveness, the latter testing these ideas against actual practice in order to promote the development of better…language planning models. Such a field would be better described as ‘language policy and planning’, LPP (p, 14).

Cooper sums up this unified understanding of LPP in the following general question: “What actors attempt to influence what behaviours of which people and for

23 what ends under what conditions by what means through what decision-making process with what effect” (Cooper, 1989, p.89). While not itself framed in the context of critical theory, this question nonetheless provides a useful framework for the present study. It presupposes, however, a realistic understanding of both the social organization of language (the field of the applied sociology of language according to Fishman (1971)) and of the political processes and institutions of society. Thus, questions of history, culture and ideology are inevitably included in the broad domain of LPP.

Cooper (1989) suggests that behavior towards a language and its usage is influenced to a great extent by attitudes towards the language. In India’s case, elitist English language supremacy attitudes inherited from the British Raj persisted after independence in 1947 and continue to do so even today. A much-quoted expression of these attitudes can be found in Thomas Macaulay’s infamous and linguistically assimilationist rhetorical “Minute on Education” (1835) which was to have a lasting negative impact on the country for over a hundred years. He wrote the Minute as a response to the Governor-General of India William Bentnick’s resolve to formulate an education policy that would promote European literature and language amongst the natives of India (Evans, 2010). Macaulay penned the Minute with contempt for Indian languages, and even for the classical languages such as Arabic and Sanskrit, writing:

The claims of our own language it is hardly necessary to recapitulate. It stands pre-eminent even among the languages of the West. It abounds with works of imagination not inferior to the noblest which Greece had bequeathed to us, - with models of every species of eloquence…Whoever knows that language has ready access to all the vast intellectual wealth which all the wisest nations of the earth have created and hoarded in the course of ninety generations…The question now before us is simply whether when it is in our power to teach this language, we shall teach languages in which, by universal confession, there are no books in any subject which deserve to be compared to our own (Missouri State University, n.d.).

The Minute, and the English Education Act that followed it, staked out a significant policy position by dictating that “the teaching of English would henceforth be the principal objective of public education” (Evans, 2010, p.273). The embedded Anglo-centric, elitist and hierarchical language ideology greatly impacted vernacular education in British India.

24 Along with social and elite attitudes towards particular languages like English, an important role is played by attitudes towards multilingualism in general, frequently intermixed with attitudes towards religion, education, economic success and so on. Cooper (1989) aptly suggests that, “Since education is, from the state’s point of view, a primary means of social control, and from the individual’s or family’s point of view, a means for social mobility, it is scarcely surprising that the language of instruction should be an important political issue” (p.112). The inclusion of particular languages as a subject in the curriculum is another common policy issue in multilingual states (as it is in India where three and up to four and five languages are the norm). Language attitudes also have an effect on learning proficiency, whether the language is strictly taught for literary or scholarly purposes (like Sanskrit, Latin or Greek) or more ideological or practical reasons. (Cooper, 1989). In general, as Fishman (1991) states, “Without considerable and repeated societal reinforcement schools cannot successfully teach either first or second languages and, furthermore, where such reinforcement is plentifully available, languages are acquired and retained even if they are not taught on schools” (p. 371). Thus, much depends on linguistic attitudes and practices among the general population. The most well-intentioned multilingual education policy cannot succeed if there is no social basis for the continued use and development of multiple languages for a variety of purposes. Spolsky (2004) states that language policy must include all of the “language practices, beliefs and management of a community or polity” (p. 9). In support of this, Menken and Garcia (2010, 2017) in their study of language education policies note, a dynamism must exist in the development of multilingual policies, but in fact the top down nature of planning and policy has traditionally precluded the understanding and incorporation of human agency and the chance for local creativity in its processes (Kaplan & Baldauf, 1997; Canagarajah, 2005; Spolsky, 2004; Ricento, 2006). Critical approaches to how the underestimating (and perhaps undermining) of the depth of human agency point to the multidimensional nature of policymaking which has the potential to develop policies that would benefit from such an undertaking (Canagarajah, 2005; Ramanathan, 2005; Hornberger & Johnson, 2007).

In the case of India, Mohanty (2019), Khubchandani (1978) and Pattanayak (1984) have all pointed out that normative (and fully functional) multilingualism has been maintained for generations. Social contact allows for the maintenance of different linguistic interrelationships in an environment that is a fertile site for multi-language

25 acquisition, even while different forces are at play that affect language use. The social ecology of any language is important in order that it may thrive (formally and informally) even as it constantly re-adjusts to its social environment and builds its connectivity with other languages in its network (Mühlhäusler, 2000). The country’s linguistic, cultural, ethnic and socio-economic diversity positions the kind of power languages have within religion, administration, higher education and politics. Indian sociolinguist Annamalai (2005) claims that, “when multilingualism is taken as the norm, the functional (or ecological) relationship between languages in a multilingual network (or linguistic ecology) defines the nature of each language in the network” (page 111).

Writing is an especially important dimension of such networks or ecologies. Graphization (development of writing systems), standardization (defining correct language) and modernization (new terms for new concepts) are all key aspects of corpus planning (Fettes, 1997). While writing systems have occupied many linguists for many centuries all over the world, modern language planning must still take into account technical and sociolinguistic considerations, dialectical variations, subjugated language forms, cultural innovations, and homogenizing pressures. All of this is affected by social and political development. As Cooper (1989) suggests, “Regional and national language forms sometimes develop from a common linguistic ancestor. Just as standardization in measurement usually proceeds from the center to the periphery, so the standardization of language typically radiates outward from the metropolitan centers of power” (p. 132- 133).

These are some of the complex, and problematic, dimensions of the language planning tradition that forms part of the backdrop to this study. It is important to note that social forces play a vitally important role and influence in the negotiation of language planning and policy, but historic traditions must be questioned and resisted if the status quo asserts and embeds itself continuously in the processes.

2.4. Critical Theory and LPP

All linguistic interaction is shaped by power differences of varying kinds, and no part of linguistic action escapes its effects.

Kress, 2001, p. 35

26 Critical theory helps clarify the gap between what individuals know to be the case, in the context of their lives and situations, and what dominant (hegemonic) shared knowledge claims to be the case, in the context of the culture and its institutions. It is the fact that these things do not wholly align that makes critical theory necessary. By applying critical theory to language planning and policy, I hope to provide a way to question theories and knowledge, by examining that which is in the “centre” so as to understand the margins and the periphery. This application is one that allows for historically silenced or marginalized groups (such as women, minorities, oppressed classes, linguistic and cultural groups, etc.) to be recognized.

As Fettes notes in his general overview of language planning and education (1997), many taken-for-granted assumptions of language planning clearly favour groups whose languages already hold or mediate power. For example, languages of instruction are “expected to be highly standardized (so that many different schools can use the same curricular and human resources) and both prestigious and widely used (so that education promotes economic mobility and inter-group communication)” (p. 13). All members of a given national population do not have equal access to these forms of language. This implies that in LPP there is a continuous tension of inequality between the power and politics of dominant groups and individuals who continue to preserve their own privilege and mask it as service.

Block (2018), in his research on inequality and class as endemic to capitalism, concurs and suggests that, “language planning and management practices taking place in society, must have at its core a careful and in-depth consideration of these political phenomena” (p. 584). This kind of scholarship however, is not simply transmitting the ideas of difference; it is also helping to create a political discourse of difference. In critical theory, “knowledge and interest no longer diverge but coincide” (Bubner, 2004, p. 51) and in the critical turn in the study of LPP in the 1990’s, alternate definitions associated with power and inequality abandoned the notions of permanence and neutrality (Tollefson & Pérez-Milans, 2018). This is a powerful concept of a fields of competing knowledges where no one knowledge has power over the others; rather they might meet, recognize each other’s value and coexist with true acceptance.

Blake and Masschelein (2006) point out that, “the point of critical theory is not that it envisages a “positive utopia” but that it is informed by a sharpened experience of

27 the actual and intolerable injustice of the world as it currently exists” (p. 55). It is imperative that criticalness does not translate into pessimism where everything looks bleak and dark for the marginalized. It is therefore hopeful when Mohanty (1994) suggests that, “…new analytical spaces… make possible thinking of knowledge as praxis, of knowledge as embodying the very seeds of transformation and change” (p. 148). In these analytical spaces not only is critical knowledge constructed, knowledge itself is critiqued. These spaces are frequently seen in feminist studies, cultural studies, anti-racist education, multicultural education and ethnic studies that are transgressing into areas that are on the fringes. These spaces allow us as LPP researchers to, “examine contexts from a multitude of angles on the way towards identifying the lack of alignment between planning and implementation” (Block., 2018, p. 582) while at the same time reconsidering how each area can be better developed.

Dominant hegemonic paradigms of language planning and policy can be alternatively framed within dominant epistemological frameworks by recognizing different ways of knowing and then going further to embrace the oppositional view. This is difficult work, because hegemonic ideology functions to legitimize existing practices in largely unconscious ways. The foundation of respect, connectedness, and understanding of local contexts all play a part in critically examining policy positions. As Van Mensel (2016) suggests, “in order to fully grasp the impact of language policies, a balance between structure and agency is needed…, as the power of language policy agents is indeed contingent upon societal factors of a structural nature” (p.12). This kind of deep critical engagement allows the possibility of exploration beyond the often-illusory sense of language rights. Within this emancipatory framework, the desire is for minority languages not to be merely tolerated in educational institutions and systems; rather, the hope is that they will become fully embedded within the various schooling contexts: political, social, psychological and educational (Mohanty & Minati, 2007; Skutnabb- Kangas, 2000; Mohanty, 2000).

2.5. Critical theory and LPP in the Indian Context

Schiffman expresses a key insight with respect to language policy in India: “In India, language is tied up with religion, it is affiliated with caste and social structure, it differs from region to region, group to group, and cannot be understood without reference to the long-standing history of the region” (Schiffman, 1996, p. 151). Yet any

28 approach to language policy that recognizes social stratification and its relationship to power is bound to be complex. Not only do “individual attributes” need to be seen as indicators of class differentials (Wright, 2016), but any serious discussion of class inequality must take into account other well-established relational dimensions of identity: race, ethnicity, gender and nationality.

Planning an archaic British language policy, policymakers had remained arrogantly dismissive on all of these issues, in part by marginalizing uniquely Indian experiences and knowledge. In the 18th and 19th centuries, English language had taken centre stage in all administrative and trade dealings across the vast and diverse country, alienating almost 80% of the population in one fell stroke. The vernacular was tolerated as the language of education in religious schools, and the British established English medium schools of good repute only for the Indian elite whom they educated to meet their own imperialist objectives, demands and desires (Brass, 2004). Evans (2002) in his study on colonial language policy states,

To encourage the study and use of English, Grant urged the authorities to introduce English as the language of government and (to meet the demand which would inevitably arise from this change) to establish free schools providing instruction in the language. Grant’s belief that the introduction of the ‘language of the conquerors’ would be ‘an obvious means of assimilating the conquered people to them’ espoused a vision of Britain’s imperial mission which was diametrically opposed to the prevailing policy of reconciliation, and may be regarded as an early manifestation of the shift in British attitudes towards India, from interest and appreciation to criticism and disdain, which was to build in momentum in the early decades of the 19th century (p. 264).

By the turn of the century the deleterious consequences of the spread of English education in India were becoming increasingly apparent. From an educational perspective, the most serious effects of British language policies and practices were the excessive emphasis on English in the schools, the neglect of the vernacular languages as subjects and instructional media, and the unrealistically early introduction of English as a teaching medium (p. 277).

As described in Chapter 3 this landscape informed the national debates and mobilization that led up to and followed Independence in 1947. Political leaders and policy makers knew that lethargy towards Indian languages would need to be combated through praxis of action, reflection and action, if language policy was to be formulated on behalf of and from the standpoint of the diverse population and especially the disadvantaged. Once

29 the British had been pushed out of India, leaving it to its own devices almost overnight, the opportunity arose for construction of a particularly Indian “imagined possibility” involving real personal agency by the politicians. (Brass, 1994; Das Gupta, 2003; Brass, 2005). “The leading ideas of the nationalist elite at Independence can be summarized under these headings: sovereignty, unity, order, a strong state, secularism, democracy and parliamentarism, economic self-sufficiency, and the need for social and economic reform” (Brass, 1994, p. 10).

In this diverse milieu, to be able to contribute to a new liberation, the people of India had to find their authentic selves as they grappled with the new found democratic responsibilities. Both the dominant strata of society (those in power) and the minority groups (the rest) had an opportunity to show solidarity (in a hope) to understand each other’s position relative to themselves. The debates over national identity leading up to Independence had taken place primarily in (educated) English and Hindi, leaving the masses once again relegated to the fringes with the prospects of being forced to accept a new kind of status quo, not so different from the old. In this relationship, word and thought were intricately linked and dependent upon each other, forcing an exploration of lived experiences (including linguistic) of each other by objectively examining them, as, “systemic interactions of social actors situated in relation to each other” (Wright, 2016, p. 33). At stake is a refiguring of the map that situates the former centre and margin, oppressor and oppressed, within a context larger than these binary oppositions.

The post-colonial goal of a newly emancipated India was to free language, action, thought from exploitation and or hierarchy through communicative action and for its people never to be ruled again (Brass, 1994). This type of discourse consistently argued against the lingua-centric, patriarchally singular moral and theoretical assumptions that had permeated language policy in the Raj. However, language differences were bound up with class differences that were starkly evident, practiced and unfortunately enforced in society. Even when new policies were created, there was a real and undeniable risk that the marginalized other would get situated in comparison to the dominant self, in a country that had been ruled and governed by a foreign domineering power for three hundred years. Thus, in order to unite India, the collective “other” needed to be understood through moral, philosophical and ethical reasoning not as the other but as the self– a mammoth task not for the faint of heart.

30 In their search for alternatives to the imperialist traditions of Great Britain and other Western powers, the leaders of a newly liberated India consulted with the Soviet Union in developing their language policy. Schiffman (1996) in his study on linguistic cultures and language policy, suggests that this was a grave misstep:

The biggest mistake of post-independence language policy in India was not that the planners sought a policy that would remove English and better suit Indian circumstances, but that they chose another foreign model for their language policy, one that on the surface seemed egalitarian and multilingual but was otherwise ill-equipped for Indian circumstances. In addition, they ignored the tremendous power of Indian linguistic culture and the built-in attitudes and assumptions about language, in particular the deep-rooted propensity toward diglossia (Schiffman, 1996, p. 165).

Ferguson’s important concept of diglossia (1959) as two language varieties existing side by side everywhere (situationally) in the community was expanded by Fishman (1967) to include functionally differentiated languages where both bilingualism and diglossia could apply. But what of countries like India where functional heterogeneity with complex polyglossia is more the norm than not and speaker’s attitudes and feelings towards the various varieties and the high-low binary of diglossia too limiting to imagine (Mohanty, 2019a)? Khubchandani (1985) suggested early on that difficulties of dichotomy and code stability are apparent in India due to the “fluidity” of codes calling for a pluralistic view of diglossia. He gives an example between speakers of Hindi and Punjabi, “where the use of relatively unmodified, unstable, intermediate forms of the language provide relief to the communicative tensions arising in the diglossia situation” (p. 202), and “many of these speech communities demonstrate the magnitude of functional heterogeneity in their verbal repertoires, characterized by a certain amount of fluidity in their identities depending upon the relevance of the circumstances and the setting” (p. 203). However, there are also great divides in the country due to linguistic dominance, difficult relationships between languages that have traditional hierarchies built into them, widespread and institutionalized discrimination and marginalization, all of which has been a great loss to the diversity within many domains (Mohanty, 2019b). Schiffman (1997, 2011) suggests that literate (prestigious) and oral varieties (less valued) of a language(s) co-exist amicably for different purposes (long developed polyglossia as is the case in India) as a case of diglossia (as distinguished from bilingualism). But Garcia (2009) questions the concept of diglossia where two languages have different uses and functions, because as she states, “In reality, ethnolinguistic groups do not have strict

31 divisions between their languages, and there is much overlap” (p. 78) and “Given the changing ways in which languages now function and in which people translanguage, complete compartmentalization between languages of instruction may not always be appropriate (p.79).

In a broader view, we can see the fundamental tension here as being that between policies designed by the elites with an overall grand scheme in mind, and policies grounded in vernacular needs and values. In India’s polyglossia it became quickly obvious and clear that certain people’s languages, history, voice and power were still being relegated to the margins or excluded from the language policies being developed. Post-Independence, the political machine re-inscribed old relations of power within new structural formations, as we shall see in Chapter 3. The important theoretical question to ask here is, how could this happen?

First of all, the “high command” of Congress leaders (Brass, 2004, p.9), to whom the receding British had handed over the reins of power, constituted a powerful nationalist elite whose members were used to some power and privilege even under the British Raj. Perhaps it was too much to expect them to suddenly widen the sphere of social relations and practice; this would have entailed the discovery and recovery of previously ignored or omitted linguistic experiences, histories and knowledges, on the part of those on the extreme edges of the Raj’s hierarchal continuum. Instead, just as happened under the foreign rulers, the Indian intelligentsia (trained in western ontology and ideologically amenable to colonialism’s many idiosyncrasies) undertook to develop language policy frameworks behind closed doors, with little or no input from those in the margins.

Secondly, the silenced voices of India’s linguistic landscape were not encouraged to reflect on the condition of their lives, which could have forced a change in perceptions and assumptions and helped them come to a new understanding of their position, thereby transforming the world around them. Over the ensuing 70 years, feminists, critical pedagogues, minority educators and anti-racist practitioners have all espoused questioning the relationship between power, difference, struggle, identity, politics and the narrative of class, language, race and gender. If such perspectives had been available to the political actors in India’s independence – if they had realized the importance of critically positioned understanding in working for an inclusive democratic

32 society – linguistically this would have been powerful for minority language speakers. Attending to the specificity of difference (e.g., language, class/caste, etc.) while at the same time addressing the common themes of diverse others in the Indian context would have most certainly created a new space.

This implies that, thirdly, at the time of language policy planning in the early 1950s and 1960s, Indian planners should have seen schools as instructional sites where the ability to transform society within the social and cultural milieu was very much possible. Their role should have been to ensure that curriculum for schools not just perpetuate dominant discourses, and not specifically exclude others and in the process insult and disconfirm the histories, experiences and traditions of the other. Language policy needed to be situated not in the dominant discourses (as it became), but in the lived experiences of students and within their own reflection of the world. Mohanty (1994) points out, “after all, critical education concerns the production of subjectivities in relation to discourses of knowledge and power” (p. 155). This production should have been fought for by State policy actors who as critical pedagogues clearly should have tried to understand the philosophy that sought to transform linguistic, social, political and cultural knowledge for the linguistic minority speaker and in so doing society at large.

Unfortunately, however, at the time when the new policy discourse was being formed, the contempt the imperial masters felt for India’s languages and “dialects” had left a distasteful feeling in the mind of the average person, regardless that languages had also been hierarchically placed since time immemorial in the Indian context English (in the orientalist image) had become a mark of status for the elite of India, allowing the British to keep the country economically, socially and culturally divided between those that had power (through the language) and those that did not. “These measures altered the universe of communicative and cultural practices on the subcontinent, and introduced crucial hierarchical and ideological divisions between the ‘newly-educated’ and ‘illiterate’, ‘English-knowing’ and ‘vernacular speaking’ sections of native society” (Naregal, 2001, p. 4). A consequence was the enshrinement of English by policy planners as an official language, in addition to Hindi being forced upon everyone in such a linguistically diverse country with many historically situated literary languages. These became major components of the post-independence linguistic legacy of the ruling Indian Congress party (see Chapter 4).

33 2.6. Critical theory and LPP in the local context

As a richly multiethnic mosaic, India’s post-Independence language policy, rationalized as “politically and ethnically neutral” (Tollefson & Tsui, 2018, p. 271), was in direct conflict with its great traditions and many languages. However, while English was supported by post-colonial hierarchies and ideologies, and the official language (Hindi) was supported by a nation-state agenda, according to Khubchandani (1978) and Pattanayak (1984), the grass-roots level of multilingual communication and interaction by Indian nationals remained open and unimpaired. The central question with which this thesis in concerned is how micro-level socio-historical processes and macro-level dynamics of power structures have affected the linguistic landscape of India in its regions, in particular in the state of Punjab.

In Spolsky’s (2008) writings on educational linguistics, he suggests that the emphasis on community agency is critical to the success of language planning and implementation. In a similar vein, Ruiz earlier recommended that language planning efforts begin with the assumption that language is a resource to be “managed, developed and conserved” and that the planners, “regard language minority communities as important sources of expertise” (1984, p. 28). Yet this long-standing theme in language planning work is often ignored in favour of more centralized and elite- driven policies. The situation in Punjab displays a complex mix of these orientations.

As Spolsky (2004) worked to define and theorize a more comprehensive and holistic approach to LPP, he suggested that, “language policy exists within a complex set of social, political, economic, religious, demographic, educational and cultural factors that make up the full ecology of human life” (p.ix). According to him the three steps that make up components of language policy include: language practice, language ideology and language management. Spolsky asserted that, “a host of non-linguistic factors (political, demographic, social, religious, cultural, psychological, bureaucratic and so on) regularly account for any attempt by persons or groups to intervene in the language practices and the beliefs of other persons or groups and for the subsequent changes that do or do not occur” (2004, p.6).

To explain the ecological context of language Spolsky (2004) suggests that “people and societies are the environment” (p.7), although we must understand that the

34 units of language ecology are not yet fully defined, both in regards to the human dimension and in nature. Critically important is that according to him, the complex and dynamic forces that define everyday language use, “are far more powerful than conscious, ideologically motivated practices” (Spolsky, 2004, p.7). Mohanty (2010), too, sees Indian multilingualism as fundamentally a natural phenomenon (notwithstanding the political dominance of English and Hindi), citing Bhatia and Ritchie, (2004), who state that in India, “Centuries of co-existence and an ongoing process of convergence have led to an unmarked pattern of widespread naturalistic linguistic coalescence rather than separation, dominance and disintegration” (p. 795). Lewis and Trundell (2008) note that a community’s language is a very “locally-sited cultural phenomenon and so intimately bound into the identity of that community” (p.271). Such locally based linguistic and cultural identities are a key to understanding the Indian and Punjabi situations.

The projection of a freewheeling multilingualism/heteroglossia in India is in direct contrast though with rigid policy distinctions whereby Punjabi, Hindi, and English all occupy distinct and separate positions in the education system in Punjab. While the TLF envisioned a complimentary language formula, in reality, policy planners are constantly working to position minority languages with power and privilege (like in the case of Punjab with Punjabi) even when against all odds that does not fully dislodge the hold on the country’s insatiable thirst for English as the language of upward mobility and global access. In contrast to policy demands for hierarchical language access, in the schools (based on my experience) students use three to five languages freely by code-switching effectively with relative ease and comfort. Even 40 years since my formal schooling, I can even today switch between English, Punjabi, Hindi and Urdu quite easily and with little effort. In fact, public schools in Punjab do not frown on students’ multilingual repertoire for daily translanguaging in the classroom or in the playground and students do not feel the stress of singular or hierarchical language(s) access and utility in school, even though the Punjabi language is the MOI in public schools and given a premier position above English and Hindi.

Like the ever-expansive banyan trees seen all over India (mostly planted in the centre of villages – under whose shade locals gather to meet and share stories), vernacular languages in India continue to prosper through the daily translanguaging experiences of a linguistically diverse society (Garcia & Lin, 2016). Garcia & Wei (2014) conceptualize translanguaging as, “the language practices of bilinguals [seen] not as two

35 autonomous language systems….but as one linguistic repertoire with features that have been socially constructed as belonging to two separate languages” (p.4). Yet the question is whether this flexible individual and societal multilingualism can endure in the face of policies that insist on the fact of those separate languages (Cummins, 2008 calls this the ‘two solitudes’) and tie access to specific kinds of resources to them. Colin Baker’s (2011) early definition of translanguaging in the educational context brought forward the concept that it, “is the process of making meaning, shaping experiences, gaining understanding and knowledge through the use of two languages” (p.288). The idea that students draw on all their languages to maximize their understanding and related achievements, was further developed by Garcia (2009) as a dynamic and functionally integrated concept of dynamic bilingualism where translanguaging is the process. At the same time with subtle variations, Canagarajah termed the same process of daily language use as translingual practice (2011), while Otsuji & Pennycook (2001) coined it as metrolingualism. Further to this, Li Wei (2011) suggested it was part of the psycholinguistic process:

Translanguaging is both going between different linguistic structures and systems, including different modalities (speaking, writing, signing, listening, reading, remembering) and going beyond them. It includes the full range of linguistic performances of multilingual language users for purposes that transcend the combination of structures, the alternation between systems, the transmission of information and the representation of values, identities and relationships. The act of translanguaging then is transformative in nature, it creates a social space for the multilingual language user by bringing together different dimensions of their personal history, experience and environment, their attitude, beliefs and ideology, their cognitive and physical capacity into one coordinated and meaningful performance, and make it into a lived experience (p.1223).

While Garcia was mainly studying Latinos in the US and Li Wei looked at the experiences of Chinese students in the UK, for me the concept of “languaging” as a verb is relevant and evident as a vibrant and regularly negotiated sociolinguistic and ecological presence in Punjab and many languages continue to thrive (although there is great remorse at many languages becoming extinct as well).

As a whole, India’s perceived minimal ecological risk to languages is to be envied by most countries. Many languages have continued to survive and thrive partly because they are “in situ” and are protected by local attitudes and practices, in partial disregard of distantly developed language policies. Political scientist David Laitin (1989) suggests

36 that the complexity of language hierarchy is simply understood and does not require justification or intervention. Mohanty (2006, 2010) concurs that multilingual contact and coexistence is the norm, although India’s linguistic hierarchy creates its own set of communicative and intersectional issues.

However, I would suggest that this normative multilingual ideology is far from ideally developed in Punjab and requires vigilance in policy implementation. In fact, policy makers in India understand the capital that language brings both to employment status and cultural status – “For an Orissa tribesman, one senior journalist pointed out to me, it would be a ‘step-up’ to learn Tamil and to get a job as a clerk in Madras. Another step up in this hierarchy would be to learn Hindi, and perhaps some Basic English” (Laitin, 1989, p. 431). There are no guarantees that such a complex multilingual environment will remain sustainable; already, there are great inequalities that affect India’s linguistic minorities who suffer from language neglect. As Mohanty, (2010) states:

Apart from English and the 22 constitutionally recognized official languages, very few of the languages find a place in school curriculum either as languages of teaching or as schools subjects…The tribal and other minority languages have no place in education and the children who speak these languages, when they enter schools, are forced into submersion education in dominant languages, with a subtractive effect on their mother tongue (p.138).

The complexity and dynamism of such multilingual environments has inspired numerous calls for the study of language ecology. The notion was first brought forward in the early 1960’s by Einar Haugen, who defined it as “the study of interactions between any given language and its environment” (1972, p. 325). He further codified his definition with the following concepts:

- The true environment of a language is the society that uses it as one of its codes

- Language exists only in the mind of its users, and it only functions in relating these users to one another and to nature i.e. their social and natural environment

- Part of its ecology is therefore psychological: its interaction with the society in which it functions as a medium of speakers

- Another part of its ecology is sociological: its interaction with the society in which it functions as a medium of communication

37 - The ecology of a language is determined primarily by the people who learn it, use it, and transmit it to others (p.325).

The concept of language ecology has since been picked up and developed by a number of other scholars. Language planning policy frameworks can be seen as “the support system for a structural ecology of language rather than individual languages” (Mühlhäusler, 1996, p. 8-9). Kaplan and Baldauf (1997) suggest that languages evolve in an eco-system that is affected by many elements which include natural death of languages, creation of new dialects, societal shift, absorption of languages into each other etc. The authors state that, “Language planning…is a question of trying to manage the language ecology of a particular language to support it within the vast cultural, educational, historical, demographic, political, social structure in which language policy formulation occurs every day” (Kaplan and Baldauf, 1997, p.13). In support of this idea, in her ethnographic study of multilingual language policies in the north of India, Groff (2018) found that,

The human dimension of a linguistic ecology I see as mediated thorough local language ideologies, which are made relevant in part through language use practices and discourses about language. Language ideologies also include the making, interpretation and implementation of language planning and policy at all levels (p. 4).

My primary interest in the concept concerns its possible relevance to maintaining multilingualism at the local level. In the case of a rich linguistic region like Punjab, an ecological approach to language planning would appropriately connect the language planner/user with his/her environment where multi-lingual co-existence is considered to be, “a resource worth preserving” (Fettes, 1997, p.20). In Punjab, a particular linguistic environment has been developed within which Punjabi thrives, with its members as the mindful conduits who determine how they will interact psychologically and sociologically with other languages around them by using language as a medium of instruction and communication (Eliasson, 2015). As explained in Chapter 5, historically this linguistic eco-system has been impacted by government, non-government agencies, educational organizations, and speakers from the three main linguistic groups (Punjabi, Hindi and Urdu). Language rules, variety categorization, word appropriation and cross-over, evolution of terms etc. are clearly formulated and proclaimed as policy. This formulation does not, however, guarantee success, especially in Punjab where there is a naturally driven tension between federal policy frameworks and local policy implementation. In

38 addition, as in other states in India, Punjab faces challenges in implementing multilingual classrooms in an agricultural/migrant labour dependent state.

It behoves policy actors in Punjab to understand that “the chasm between policy and practice with respect to the place of languages and minority mother tongues leads to educational failure and capability deprivation of the minority linguistic groups” (Mohanty, 2010, p. 131). Critical theory highlights the imperative to rethink language planning and policy in the service of liberation, which in turn entails transforming curricula, pedagogy and the culture of education in India (Mohanty, 1994). It could be argued that without paying full and critical attention, in Punjab policy designed curriculum might also create hegemonic paradigms, support canons and voices that embody dominant narratives and ideologies. From a critical perspective, the policy actors in Punjab need to “recognize the planning-policy-making process and field of LPP itself as ideological and discursive, reflecting and (re)producing class, race, language and power” (McCarty, 2013, p.40). The contextual nature of knowledge and the plurality of meaning making in such a diverse country need to be inserted into the perspectives of LPP, so that it is understood, for example, within “the relations of domination and exploitation in production” (Wright, 2016, p. 33). To critically question how certain knowledge is situated in the realms of difference vis-à-vis marginality (e.g. language rights), or positioned as inconsequential (class/caste), etc., helps enlarge the boundaries and scope of policy making so that new planning mechanisms by policy makers and educators become evident.

For the purpose of this study, I turn to discourse analysis as a data analysis method to make sense of Indian educational contexts (Gee 1999). In the practice of discourse analysis, scholars like Sinclair and Coulthard (1976) and others undertook linguistic analysis of classroom talk by teachers (student and teacher’s discourse acts). At the same time, drawing on critical social theory, both micro and macro interactions were being analysed drawing together cultural theorists and linguistic anthropologists to explain how discourse is constructed and how it represents the social world (how things come to be, how they might be different and that they can be changed). I am interested in how Critical Discourse Analysis (CDA) as a tool helps me mediate social interactions, institutions and bodies of knowledge that are influenced by dominance, representation, ideology, power and privilege. Tenorio (2011) states that, “CD analysts focus on those features contributing to the fabric of discourse in which dominant ideologies are adopted or challenged, and in which competing and contradictory ideologies coexist” (p. 184).

39 While Discourse itself as a concept has many distinctions, Gee (1999) suggests the following association: small-d-discourse is about the actual language and big-D- discourse is about the knowledge being produced within the language and how the world behaves towards that knowledge and the resulting beliefs and actions that affect our social world. India’s language policies while politically motivated are socially constructed (with all their inherent inequities) and represented by policy actors in the form of directives from up above that they then mediate in the public education system (the schools and classroom). Utilizing critical analysis, I am looking for actual meaning in these reflexive contexts whether the language and its context are continuously mirroring their own perspectives or not and what is their effect on each other. Scholars that critique of CDA suggest that it’s eclectic and inter-disciplinary nature on modes of analysis that does not produce conversation (like my study of policy directives) (Teo, 2000) which I combat by using interactional data – policy directives developed by policy actors Further, the critique that CDA’s social-based ambitions cannot be put into practice because the analysis is unable to produce action and that isolated contexts cannot be relied upon (Rogers et al, 2000). In response to researcher bias, I ensure that multiple contexts make up part of the study - political, social, ideological and ecological help me contextualize the larger issues of language policy implementation. As a reflexive analyser (self critique) I need to understand my role as data collector and question the text to be analysed (Mautner, 2009).

While India is recognized as a polyglot, and its linguistic diversity is the envy of the world, the Three Language Formula policy produces anxiety for the educational needs of linguistic minorities all over India. The policy’s framing is steeped in inequities that seek to assimilate and subsume languages to the point of extinction. In view of these inequities and in order to explore India’s language education policy frameworks within the linguistic ecology of Punjab, I paid particular attention to the manner in which policy is implemented by policy actors. The interplay between national-level policies and on the ground state policy realties and practices provided a fertile ground for my interaction with both the policy framework and its historically situated ideologies, and the ensuing (current) directives developed for public school education in Punjab. I collected data from the work of Punjab’s ministry of education policy actors as they developed policy directives for the state sanctioned school board and I analyzed them against national and state policy frameworks. In the region of Punjab three official (and many

40 more unofficial) languages co-exist within the region, however despite pluralistic language planning and minority language MOI (Punjabi) in the public system, the dominant forces of English and Hindi continue to put stress on the early acquisition of mother tongue education.

India’s language policy

The language question should not be reduced simply to the problem of language planning, policy and programs, but should take into account the ideological power of language(s) and its various forms of domination and subordination.

Sarangi, 2009, p.2.

3.1. From Colonialization to Independence

I start this chapter with a historic narrative before I undertake a critical analysis of India’s language planning and policy. I contend that a mastery of language affords remarkable power, claims Frantz Fanon in Black Skin, White Mask (2008). Writing about the pivotal role of language in cultural, racial and political domination, Fanon posits that, “a man who possesses a language possesses as an indirect consequence the world expressed and implied by this language” (p.2). This theory nicely captures the challenge that Free India faced at the time of Independence in 1947 since its citizens had little control over their own languages under British Raj. At Independence, on the one hand, there emerged an ethno-linguistic nationalism agenda of granting status to (at least some of) India’s many linguistic communities, supporting the ideology that languages make nations (Kamusella, 2018). On the other hand, this agenda was in direct competition with the erstwhile colonial language (English) that still dominated the landscape in a post-colonial setting, including its role as a vehicle of elite status, privilege and power (Tollefsen & Tsui, 2018; Tollefsen &, Pérez-Milans 2018). In my study of India’s long and arduous journey in language planning and policy I found that the desired socio-linguistic context noted above had been articulated long before Independence.

One might say that the myopic Thomas Babington Macaulay (McCully, 1940), cited in Chapter 2, helped to create the first formal national language planning policy in colonial India (1757-1947). In his infamous Minute of 1835, Macaulay wrote that the aim of the British Raj was to create a class of English-speaking Indians who could mediate between the handful of British rulers and the millions whom they had colonized and now

42 governed. The goal of the colonizers was to create persons who were “Indian by blood but British in taste, opinions, morals and intellect.” The medium of English would provide access to western science and art, which would in turn contribute to educating the masses and refining the thousands of “dialects” (Parameswaran, 1997). The British had previously paid scant attention to India’s languages, although, in almost all the diverse regions of India, local languages had been consistently utilized for centuries in education and religious instruction (Khubchandani, Kachru, & Webster, 2015). From 1835 onwards, official British Raj policy sought to replace these with English, instigating a powerful hold on the country’s people and at the same time negating its linguistic diversity.

However, the British themselves were not united in implementing Macaulay’s policy. Two factions emerged, the Orientalists and the Occidentalists, both of whom fanned the flames of controversy about language, but from two very opposing points of view (Khubchandani, 2008). The English-language-favouring, hierarchically inclined Occidentalists were led by the influential Charles Grant (1746-1823), while the Orientalists were led by H.T. Princept (1792-1878) who opposed English language hegemony. Rahman (1995) suggests that the Orientalists were inclined to “conciliating the native elites” (p.8), while the Occidentalists favoured westernization of the elite in India so as to assure the British Raj of their loyalty. The Orientalist language policies (between 1780-1835) in British India had cultivated indigenous languages like Sanskrit, Persian and Arabic both for Indians and the ruling British elite with a goal to create an administrative class that could understand and govern the populace. However, in 1835, the Occidentals made English the official language of the Raj’s judiciary, administration and education, ensuring its supreme position. At the end of the day, both groups aimed to consolidate the Raj’s hold over its people in different ways (Rahman, 1995). Rao (2008) in his study of India’s language debates states that, “Whichever nation the British colonized, they instilled or imposed ideas of some sort of national language, often creating ethnic and linguistic ruptures regarding language in these societies” (p. 65).

It is telling that even while under the suffocating yoke of colonialism, Indian institutional structures used whatever power they had and started the long struggle to overturn the hegemony of English starting in 1920. Minutes of the Provincial Congress Committee meetings from the time show how members aimed to start reaching out to their constituents in their vernaculars. It would have been incumbent on the ruling British

43 to take heed when while debating the prospects for a Free India, members and leaders of the Congress like Mahatma Gandhi and Jawaharlal Nehru agreed that, “provincial languages were to be the instruments for achieving national democracy” (Austin, 2009, p. 48). However, time and power were not on their side and this proclamation could not be put to the test until more than twenty-five years later in 1947 when India finally succeeded in its demand for Independence. The important work to carve out twenty-two states and a few centrally administered union territories to make up the new India, with demarcations and boundaries drawn on local linguistic lines. This geo-linguistic mapping of India was in direct contrast to the previous map of India that had been drawn arrogantly along lines of administrative convenience by the British, since the colonists had always paid little heed to India’s linguistic strengths (Moon, 2014; Petrovic and Majumdar, 2010). While right from the outset in 1947, the states were granted the ability to educate their citizens in the languages of the region, debate quickly ensued about the national need for a unifying language in central administration. The British had used English as a national language – very much a European ideal, not one previously desired in a multilingual nation like India.

The linguistic landscape of pre- and post-independence India was a complex one indeed. While in 1881 the census had reported 188 languages and 49 dialects, in 1931 the census listed 141 languages, while in 1951 90% of the speakers came from the following language groups: Hindi, Urdu, Punjabi, Telegu, Marathi, Tamil, Bengali, Gujarati, Kannada, Malayalam, Odia and Assamese, with the 10% remaining making up the vast majority of languages with less than ten thousand speakers. In 1961 the census was vastly different, reporting 1,652 mother tongues out of which 184 had fewer than ten thousand speakers (Dasgupta, 1970). However, Sarangi (2009) writes, “The total number of languages listed in the census records since 1951 has not been uniform or exact because there has been a considerable loss of minority language to the majority or dominant languages” (p.14). Regardless of census records, India was a well-recognized polyglot society and it was agreed by the political leaders that the nation’s languages needed some coherent organizing and recognition. This recognition would create endless debate and much wrangling as the power of language(s) associated to identity, cohesion and cultural ethos was worth fighting over.

It was evident right at Independence that certain languages had more power and privilege over others – Hindi for example, was a majority language in much of the north,

44 and dominated the country at 45% usage. With the exit of the British rulers, the clamour for replacement of English with Hindi as the official language of India by Hindu proponents and religious extremists initiated a long and arduous debate. While it was acknowledged that English connected the north, south, east and west, and the government machinery and the judiciary continued to be ensconced within a deeply entrenched English speaking bureaucracy, the colonial legacy of linguistic domination (English) and resulting elitist classism was now under rigorous and vociferous question. Gandhi and other Congress stalwarts like Jawaharlal Nehru, Vallabhai Patel, Rajendra Prasad and Maulana Azad, who hailed from the north, had always advocated for Hindustani (a mix of Hindi and Urdu) as the national language. However, it was because of this affiliation to their languages of birth that “Hindustani became forever tarred with the brush of northern power in the party” (Austin, 2009, p.52).

This was the conflictual backdrop to the convening of the first National Assembly and the initial raucous debates started on the planning for a language policy in an independent India. In 1946 the two leading political parties of the time, the Congress (headed by elitist Hindus) and the Muslim League (headed by elitist Muslims) had agreed to the Cabinet Mission Plan for provincial elections before the British left India for good. While Congress sought to have a Central Assembly by universal adult franchise, a dismal showing of only 28.5% of adults in the provinces claimed their right to the franchise in the Provincial Assembly. These Assemblies in turn selected members to the National Assembly on a ratio of 1 to every million persons (Agnihotri & Khanna, 1997). With this limited representation, a draft Constitution was promulgated, within which India’s newly elected 22 state representatives vehemently demanded official recognition of their own languages.

Within this conflicting milieu of competing interests, the National Constituent Assembly put their minds to the language problem during six weeks from August 1st to Sept 14th, 1946. The National Assembly’s Rules Committee under Rajendra Prasad’s chairmanship proclaimed on December 14, 1946 that Hindustani or English would be the language of business in the Assembly (Parliament). Although a member could use their own mother tongue with the President’s permission, this decision unleashed fury from the South representatives that their many languages with a longer literary history were not considered in the same manner as Hindi. This indirectly strengthened the position of English: while many motions from the floor sought to remove it as a national language,

45 the point was pressed by southern members that it would take time for all of India to learn Hindustani in order to effectively take part in technical discussions at the Legislature. The following rejoinder by Seth Govind Das conveys the acrimonious tone of the debates in the Assembly and the imposition related commentary:

I want to tell my brethren from Madras that if after twenty-five years of efforts on the part of Mahatma Gandhi they have not been able to understand Hindustani, the blame lies at their door. It is beyond our patience that because some of the brethren from Madras do not understand Hindustani, English should reign supreme in a Constituent Assembly (Austin, 2009, p. 53).

It was abundantly evident the north and south linguistic divide was very real and that ideologization of Hindi was at play.

Dr. Bhim Rao Ambedkar, the architect of India’s first Constitution was a social reformer who had studied western liberal thought in the works of John Stuart Mill, Edmund Burke and John Dewey, wrote on his sick bed that he always held the belief that a single language must be decided upon to bind a country and its fellow citizens (Moon, 2014). As well, he wrote that unilingual provinces would help solve racial and cultural conflicts even though they, “may easily develop into an independent nationality. The road between an independent nationality and an independent state is very narrow. If this happens, India will cease to be modern India and will become the medieval India consisting of a variety of States indulging in rivalry and warfare” (Moon, 2014, p.145). The western ideal of a national language was elucidated by Ambedkar partly because of his intensely discriminatory experiences as a Dalit (the untouchables of India). It was caste-based atrocities and the menace of ‘venerable’ privilege that drove him to move the country towards a new and modern state that could realize democratic self- determination.

However, dismantling entrenched hierarchical systems is never easy and wrangling continued with little resolution into the opening of the fourth Assembly session on July 14, 1947. However, the horrific communal events of Partition in August 1947 effectively killed any hope for Hindustani as the official language. Three quarters of the province of Punjab (inhabited by a majority of Sikhs and Muslims) in the west and half of the province of Bengal (inhabited by a majority of Hindus and Muslims) in the east were severed by the receding colonial masters, creating the new nation-state of East and

46 West Pakistan (located on both ends of India). Punjabi Sikhs and Muslims in the west, and Bengali Muslims and Hindus in the East, felt the brunt of the land partition and much blood was shed in the mass exodus of peoples across the newly charted, cold and aloof cartography of the Radcliffe Line. It is estimated that 7,226,000 Muslims moved to Pakistan and 7,249,000 Hindus and Sikhs moved to India and a million lost their lives in the division (Mason, 2008).

Inappropriate but opportunistic anger of Hindi-wallahs became directed towards Muslims, whom they blamed for having initiated the Partition, and many united against anything to do with Urdu, which they claimed unfairly was the language of the Muslims. Against this backdrop of discriminatory public opinion, linguistic driven acrimony and political posturing, the weary drafters of the Constitution, without the official sanction of the Assembly, defined Hindi and English as the official language of Parliament. The Congress Party leaders were reticent to further divide their own membership on the language issue; they resigned themselves to the reality of Hindi as India’s official language, while promoting accommodation of Hindustani in the everyday business of governance (Austin, 2009). However, even so, accommodation was not to be found. Hindi-speaking extremists further demanded Sanskritized Hindi as India’s only official language, and that the Constitution (which was drafted in English) be officially translated into Sanskritzed Hindi as a condition for it to be adopted (Austin, 2009). It is evident from this debate that language can exercise power and its users can work to dislodge fair ideals of equality and justice, against its very emancipatory promise. Powerful political interventions and influences by the dominant northern Hindi speaking elite was a realization of their narrow minded and exclusionary motives for language preservation by those in the south, even while they were conjoined in a newly independent nation.

A historical note is needed here. Despite the fact that in ancient India Sanskrit had been the language of the government, religion and literature, it held little or no currency for the average contemporary Indian (Khare, 2002). Brahmins and noblemen had used Sanskrit in ancient times, but during Islamic rule in India (mid-16th to mid-19th century), Sanskrit gave way to Persian and the patois that developed became known as Hindavi or Urdu. Under the succeeding British rule, Hindi and Urdu flourished with the populace as the languages required to acquire lower level government jobs in the Raj, but in order to differentiate themselves, Hindi borrowed from Sanskrit and Urdu from Persian (Khare, 2002). In 1947, the prevalent high-handed attitudes of the Hindi-wallahs

47 could best be described as “narrow nationalism generating its own fervour and tolerating no deviation from its own vision of what was truly Indian” (Austin, 2009, p.65). Nonetheless, this had consequences for language policy. Jarayam (1993), for example, observes that “a definite result of the national movement and of the efforts of the Hindi zealots to impose that language on all non-Hindi speaking states, has been the ideologization of Hindi in the six Hindi-speaking states, and the glorification of the respective regional languages in the non-Hindi speaking states” (p. 94).

Within this charged environment where the constant demands for national unity in the face of much dominant language speakers’ pressures were an everyday occurrence, debates included the need for minority languages also requiring protection. Key drafters of the Constitution like B.R. Ambedkar had envisioned nationhood and independence to “include discussions of cultural difference, language, democracy, federalism, power sharing and equal rights” (Bharadwaj, 2015, p.81). These bold ideas in theory were debated in the formulation of language planning and policy and development in the formation of a new multilingual nation. As early as 1931, Article 1 (3) of the Karachi Resolution stated, “The culture, language and script of the minorities and of the different linguistic areas shall be protected” (Shodhganga, n.d., p. 392). This occurred at the 1931 Karachi session, where in the shadow of key pro-nationalist and anti-Raj events the Congress was propelled to establish socio-economic principles and rights that would need to be enshrined in the new Constitution of a Free India with a focus on language and culture being one of the 14 fundamental rights and duties. Further to this, the Central Advisory Board of Education (CABE) in 1938 had supported mother tongue instruction in primary schools as a moral obligation Article 1 (b) stated that the medium of instruction be the mother-tongue (CABE, 1938-1943). It is interesting to note that notwithstanding the pressures of pro-Hindi nationalist groups (even before Independence), rights and duties took a central position in the work undertaken in the crafting of a future Constitution.

Once Independences was granted, linguistic tensions among minorities and practice realities on the ground in the multilingual provinces forced an effort at compromise, introduced as a resolution in the Assembly on August 5, 1948. The resolution proposed by the Centre was that 14 languages of the states would be the official language of communication between the Centre and the states with a slow move towards English being completely replaced:

48 The state language will be the language of correspondence with the Provincial and State Governments. All records of the Centre will be kept and maintained in that language. It will also serve as the language for inter- Provincial and inter-State commerce and correspondence. During a period of transition, which shall not exceed fifteen years, English may be used at the Centre and for inter-Provincial affairs provided that the State language will be progressively utilized until it replaces English” (Austin, 2009, p.71).

The resolution was heavily debated for weeks and Hindi’s favoured official position was continually forcefully promoted by the Hindi-wallahs who accused those in opposition of being anti-nationalist, conflating the language with nationalism with abandon. Conflicted within the resolution was the pragmatic issue of how to uphold one language for the whole country while enriching regional languages. As a result, a “Schedule” of state (provinces) languages was developed by the Centre and it was proposed that this “Schedule” would hold within it the many state languages, but only those that were afforded official status. After much acrimonious debate, on September 14, 1948, the Assembly voted to accept Part XVII in the Constitution, enshrining Hindi in Devanagari script with international numerals as the official language of the country along with English for the first fifteen years and 14 languages of the various states within a “Schedule” of languages that would be the official languages of the state (Austin, 2009). Many more languages were added over the years with 22 languages included in the current Eighth Schedule of the Constitution (Eighth Schedule, n.d. see Appendix C). “The 8th Schedule is “the most important language policy statement” in India. Out of a total of 114 languages in 28 states and 7 UTs, 22 languages have now been scheduled, and 92 are still not scheduled” (Benedikter, 2013, p. 16). Article 343(1) (Appendix D) of the Indian Constitution (enshrined on Nov, 26 1949) stated that Hindi (Devanagari script) was to be the Official Language of the Union. However, Article 343(2) also provided for the continuing the use of English in the official work of the Union for a period of 15 years from the date of commencement of the Constitution until 25 January, 1965. Article 343(3) empowered the Parliament to provide by law for the continued use of English for official purposes even after 25 January, 1965 by stating:

(3) Notwithstanding anything in this article, Parliament may by law provide for the use, after the said period of fifteen years, of (a) The English language, or (b) The Devanagari form of numerals for such purposes as may be specified in the law.

49 Conflicts over language rights had finally been put to the test in a legally bound Constitution and Indians had been put on notice that they would need to find resolution to the continued problems of mother tongue and common languages. For the first time in 300 years since the British ruled over India, Indian citizens would have to work out their differences within policy frameworks that would need to be developed post 1949. In a new democracy (the kind India had never experienced before) with embattled coffers after the Raj was done with looting the country, social inequalities, poverty and illiteracy of a scale beyond imagination, and the constant friction of linguistic rights, decision making about India’s linguistic future would play out in different political planning and policy arenas (more on that below). In 1949, in the face of much conflict what had been enshrined within Article 343(2) was the limited promise of some recognition of the diversity of India’s languages (with powerful languages rising to the top), uniquely positioning India as the only country with such a constitutionally sanctioned language repertoire and all its ancillary problems that needed still needed resolution. India was at the turning point in realizing that, “social hierarchy, discrimination and subordination on the basis of caste, class, culture, religion and language lead to disadvantages and voicelessness, which are associated with illiteracy and educational failure” (Mohanty, 2017b, p. 262). While the status quo embedded in linguistic power and hierarchy was evident in Article 343, did the powerful politicians at the time realize what Mohanty (2009) has so clearly elucidated and could they have done things differently?

When language becomes the basis of power, control and discrimination, socioeconomic inequality is perpetuated; the language(s) that people speak or do not speak determines their access to resources. Education is a critical factor in this relationship between languages and power. The exclusion and nonaccommodation of languages in education denies equality of opportunity to learn, violates linguistic human rights, leads to the loss of linguistic diversity and triggers a vicious cycle of disadvantage perpetuating inequality, capacity deprivation and poverty (p. 121).

3.2. Policy in a Multilingual Democracy

Before looking at how the language policy of independent India has evolved over the last 70+ years, especially in the field of education, a bit more information is needed about its vast and diverse linguistic landscape. I will spend some time here on laying the

50 groundwork for the complicated and positional historical record in language planning and policy in India post-Independence before putting my mind to its analysis,

In the1991 Census Survey of India, 10,000+ mother tongues are named, classified into 3372 mother tongues, out of which 1,576 were listed and the remaining 1,796 were grouped under ‘other’. In the VIIIth schedule of the Constitution of India, 22 languages became recognized as official languages and English was given associate language status (Eighth Schedule n.d.; Mohanty et al, 2010). Presented below is a short list of major languages and mother tongues with speakers' strength of 10,000 and above, at the all India level (from the 2001 census), grouped by state. Each Indian state is pluricultural and plurilingual, as the following table shows:

Table 1. Plurilingual Population SET STATES MAJOR LANGUAGE OTHER LANGUAGES WITH SIGNIFICANT POPULATION A Kerala Malayalam (96.6%) Tamil, Kannada Punjab Punjabi (92.2%) Hindi, Urdu Gujarat Gujarati (91.5%) Hindi, Sindhi Haryana Hindi (91.0%) Punjabi, Urdu U.P. Hindi (90.1%) Urdu, Punjabi Rajasthan Hindi (89.6%) Bhili, Urdu H.P. Hindi (88.9%) Punjabi, Kinnauri Tamil Nadu Tamil (86.7%) Telugu, Kannada West Bengal Bangla (86.0%) Hindi, Urdu A.P. Telugu (84.8%) Urdu, Hindi B M.P Hindi (85.6%) Bhili, Gondi Bihar Hindi (80.9%) Urdu, Santali Orissa Oriya (82.8%) Hindi, Telugu Mizoram Lushai (75.1%) Bangla, Lakher Maharashtra Marathi (73.3%) Hindi, Urdu C Goa Konkani (51.5%) Marathi, Kannada Meghalaya Khasi (49.5%) Garo, Bangla Tripura Bangla (68.9%) Tripuri, Hindi Karnataka Kannada (66.2%) Urdu, Telugu D Sikkim Nepali (63.1%) Bhotia, Lepch Manipur Manipuri (60.4%) Thadou, Tangkhul Assam Assamese (57.8%) Bangla, Boro E Arunachal Nissi (19.9%0 Nepali, Bangla Nagaland Ao (14.0%) Sema, Konyak Source: http://censusindia.gov.in/Census_Data_2001/Census_Data_Online/Language/data_on_language.html

51 It is also relevant to know that, while India has been urbanizing for 70+ years and now has 51 cities, 384 urban agglomerates and 5,161 towns, most Indians still live in rural areas and in small towns with mainly oral, locally specific linguistic practices and with scant knowledge of English. This linguistic and cultural reality poses at the same time one of the country’s most significant educational challenges that are ongoing and in constant need of resolution. There are great divergences in school standards and state public education seems to lag behind the private wealth seeking system of education. Mohanty (2017b) suggests that vernacular medium school students’ prospects are poor both in terms of achievement and quality of teaching. How India will conquer that divide is yet to be proven – he asks: “Whom do English medium schools teach and whom do they cheat?)” (p. 273).

It appears that this current dilemma is one that the Indian National Congress (Congress) had been grappling with even before the reins of power were handed over to them by the ousted British in 1947 - the ideas and issues of language and educational opportunity for its many citizens were critically important then and even now The Congress wanted to see mother tongue language maintenance in a national scheme and local languages included in the mandated media of instruction (Petrovic and Majumdar, 2010). There was also the question of when and how to introduce the learning of English (and It was hoped, to an increasing degree, Hindi) as the language of higher education and government bureaucracy after Independence.

In January 1948, the Central Advisory Board of Education (CABE) was created by the All India Education Conference to address various problems in the area of education. The CABE struck a Committee on Secondary Education in India (CSEI) to make recommendations on the aims and objects of secondary education as they related to language use in the classroom. Specifically, the CSEI was tasked with issuing a report whose goal was to “consider the place of the national language and English in secondary education” (CSEI, 1948, p.40). The members of the CSEI issued a report later that same year recommending the following language strategy:

- Five years of Junior Basic education, three years at Senior Basic and four at Secondary Stage;

- The federal language (Hindi) would start at Junior Basic, continue as a compulsory language throughout the Senior Basic and become optional at the Secondary Stage;

52 - English would follow suit except it might be optional at the Senior Basic level and then be assured that it become the medium of instruction at India’s Universities;

- When the goal to have English cease to be the medium of instruction at India’s Universities becomes a reality, Hindi would become compulsory at the Secondary Stage (CSEI report, 1948, p.40; Kumar, 1976).

At around the same time as the CSEI report of 1948, the University Education Commission (UEC) was appointed by the Government of India, "to report on Indian University Education and suggest improvements and extensions that may be desirable to suit present and future requirements of the country" (University Education Commission, 1962, p.1). The UEC report was the result of deliberations from December 1948 to August 1949 and was tabled in 1950 by its Chairman Dr. Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, an Oxford Professor who was later to become the President of India in 1962. The Commission put their minds to the problem of medium of instruction:

For many years the current of national opinion has flowed with increasing force in the direction of the replacement of English by an Indian language. National pride legitimately felt hurt at the idea of an alien language occupying a dominating position in the field of national culture. Thus, as the national struggle gathered force the desire for the adoption of an Indian language as the means of inter-provincial intercourse, of administration and of higher education gained in strength and volume. Naturally on the attainment of independence the ardent among it expected an immediate fulfilment of their desire, and they feel somewhat surprised and hurt when it is pointed out that the question is a complicated one and does not admit of an easy and immediate solution (Ministry of Education, 1962, p. 266).

After much complex deliberation, the UEC nonetheless came down in favour of moving the country from English to Hindi as the Federal Language. Its view was that “the use of English as such, divides the people into two nations, the few who govern and the many who are governed, that one is unable to talk the language of the other, and are mutually incomprehensible. This is a negation of democracy” (p.276). These nascent ideas of what makes India a better democracy still needed to be proven and were still in the theoretical stages, albeit with much thought and consideration. Would English really divide the country and was not Hindi also in the same category in the present moment? Accordingly, it made the following recommendations, which are worthy of a read, in that they touch not only on the status of English and Hindi but on other, regional languages as well:

53 We recommend: -

1. That the Federal Language be developed through the assimilation of words from various sources and the retention of words which have already entered into Indian languages from different sources, thereby avoiding the dangers of exclusiveness.

2. That international technical and scientific terminology be adopted, the borrowed words be properly assimilated, their pronunciation be adapted to the phonetic system of the Indian language and their spelling fixed in accordance with the sound symbols of Indian scripts.

3. That for the medium of instruction for higher education English be replaced as early as practicable by an Indian language which cannot be Sanskrit on account of vital difficulties.

4. that (i) pupils at the higher secondary and University stages be made conversant, with three languages,-the regional language, the Federal language and English (the last one in order to acquire the ability to read books in English); and (ii) Higher education be imparted through the instru- mentality of the regional language, with the option to use the Federal language as the medium of instruction either for some subjects or for all subjects.

5. That for the Federal language one script, Devanagari be employed and some of its defects be removed.

6. That immediate steps be taken for developing the Federal and Regional languages : (i) A Board consisting of scientists and linguists be appointed to prepare a scientific vocabulary of words which will be common to all Indian languages and also to arrange for the preparation of books in different sciences to be rendered into all Indian languages; (ii) Provincial Governments be required to take steps to introduce the teaching of the Federal language in all classes of higher secondary schools, in degree colleges, and in Universities.

7. That English be studied in high schools and in the Universities in order that we may keep in touch with the living stream of ever-growing knowledge (p.284).

It comes as no surprise that the work of the CABE and the UEC withstood scrutiny for a short five years, until the first extensive national review of the languages question was assigned to the Official Languages Commission (OLC) on June 7, 1955 by the President of India Dr. Rajendra Prasad under the leadership of B.G. Kher. The OLC was to respond to Article 343 in the Indian Constitution where language rights were enshrined (Article 343, n.d. see Appendix D). The OLC’s mandate was broader than the one given to the UEC; it was to make recommendations on how Hindi could progressively become the language of the Union, on what restrictions could be placed

54 on the use of English for official purposes, and how India could develop a timeline for the eventual adoption of Hindi as the official language of the Union (Report of the Official Language Commission, 1956). It would seem that the old guard was still holding out for Hindi as the national language and with it the power would be consolidated with Hindi speakers who were the elite in the north where the seat of government was located.

So out of touch were the powerful elite in the north with the desires of all of India, that when Hindu nationalism raised its head again for a language related nationalism, no heed was given to the sensibilities of the south. Upon completion of its deliberations, the OLC made a recommendation for an immediate change to Hindi as the national language and a bid for replacing English by stating, “Replacement of English from its unnatural and therefore wrong position of being the medium of administration and higher education in the country is the most outstanding national venture we are called upon to undertake (p.357). Further, the Commission recommended, “Multilingual as we are, we need for such an experiment the unavoidable accompaniment of an Antar Bhasha – a lingua franca. Accordingly, we have decided that it will be Hindi, the common language of the largest number amongst us” (p. 357). Two dissenting votes were recorded by members from non-Hindi speaking states, and Parliamentarians from Madras, Maharashtra, Punjab, Karnataka, Puducherry, Andhra Pradesh and Bengal also registered their objection. Almost immediately upon the release of the OLC report, riots ensued, especially in Southern Indian states like Tamil Nadu where people historically had been and currently were in complete opposition to the promulgation of Hindi as a national language to be adopted by every state. Indeed, Tamils had supported the anti- Hindi movement (as a compulsory language) even while the British were ruling India. Saivite leader and venerated scholar Gnaniyar Adigal had famously said in 1938:

A thousand years ago Sanskrit came to Tamilnadu. We welcomed it. A few centuries ago, English came. We said, ‘Welcome’ and showed warm hospitality. What did we gain? Slowly these two languages devoured our Tamil language. Now Hindi too is coming. Moreover, it is going to be mandatory (Venkatachalapathy, 1995, p.766).

Provincial agitations were supported by two Union Ministers who threatened to resign; women got out and protested and went to jail; students shut down universities; and street protests turned into riots with self-immolation and suicides, in Tamil Nadu in particular (Hargraves, 1965). These widespread public protests halted the great political shift in India, putting tremendous pressure on the central government to ease off its

55 desire to make Hindi mandatory as the first language in any state. The same democracy that Raj weary India had desired in all its concomitant states was now being exercised by the people and the government was forced to listen.

A quick to the goal of replacing English with Hindi came soon after, in the report of the English Review Commission (ERC) of the University Grants Commission under Chairman H.N. Kunzru. In its 1957 report, and in direct contrast to the OLC, the ERC recommended that the Government should not hasten to replace English at the state universities, and that adequate knowledge of English was necessary for higher education even when another language might be used as the medium of instruction (Report of the English Review Commission, 1957). The value of English language as a global language made its position unassailable, whatever domestic political concerns might suggest. In this the Commission was not breaking new ground, but reasserting facts that were already widely acknowledged (Kachru and Webster, 2015).

The intractability of the status quo was eventually recognized in the Official Languages Act (OLA), which was brought into force on May 10, 1963 (Sarkar, 2008; Annamalai, 1986; Chindabaram, 1986; Annamalai, 1979). The Act provided for continuing the use of English in official work of the Union even after the 15-year caveat by stating:

Notwithstanding the expiration of the period of fifteen years from the commencement of the Constitution, the English language may, as from the appointed day, continue to be used, in addition to Hindi, (a) for all official purposes of the Union for which it was being used immediately before that day, and (b) for the transaction of business in Parliament (Das Gupta, 1971, p. 271).

Section 3(2) of the Official Languages Act, 1963 was amended on January 8, 1968 guaranteeing a virtually indefinite policy of bilingualism in the Union, by making English and Hindi compulsory for specific administrative purposes.

The Official Languages Act 1963 which had been promulgated by the Central government along with the National Policy on Education 1968 stated the following philosophy and ideology:

56 (3) Development of Languages (a) Regional Languages: The energetic development of Indian languages and literature is a sine qua non for educational and cultural development. Unless this is done, the creative energies of the people will not be released, standards of education will not improve, knowledge will not spread to the people, and the gulf between the intelligentsia and the masses will remain, if not widen further. The regional languages are already in use as media of education at the primary and secondary stages. Urgent steps should now be taken to adopt them as media of education at the university stage. (b) Three-Language Formula: At the secondary stage, the State Governments should adopt, and vigorously implement, the three-language formula which includes the study of a modern Indian language, preferably one of the southern languages, apart from Hindi and English in the Hindi-speaking States, and of Hindi along with the regional language and English in the non-Hindi speaking States. Suitable courses in Hindi and/or English should also be available in universities and colleges with a view to improving the proficiency of students in these languages up to the prescribed university standards.

(c) Hindi: Every effort should be made to promote the development of Hindi. In developing Hindi as the link language, due care should be taken to ensure that it will serve, as provided for in Article 351 of the Constitution, as a medium of expression for all the elements of the composite culture of India. The establishment, in non-Hindi States, of colleges and other institutions of higher education which use Hindi as the medium of education should be encouraged.

In 1976, the rules were again verified, but what changed was the Centre’s push to have government employees fully trained in Hindi so as to accommodate its gradual strength in government undertakings. Many schemes were organized by the government into the 1980’s to encourage official language acceleration and the progressive use of Hindi and regular reviews were undertaken of the various ministries (Bipan, 1989). Whether this could be done would be tested over time but Mohanty (2017b) suggests that, “the hierarchy of power relations in respect to languages in multilingual societies effectively leads to deprivation of many languages in favour of the dominant ones” leading me to surmise that as Hindi became more and more dominant other languages would have to accommodate its rise and be sacrificed.

The rivalry between Hindi and English, as national languages and languages of higher education, unfolded concurrently with efforts to define a coherent education policy that would cover the earlier years of schooling. The Three Language Formula (TLF) was proposed as early as 1956 by the Central Advisory Board of Education, and by 1963 had made its way into directives such as the National Education Policy (NEP) 1963, which clearly stated that “arrangements should be made in accordance with the formula for the

57 study of a modern Indian language, preferably one of the Southern languages, apart from Hindi and English in the Hindi speaking areas” (NEP, 1963, p.40). The mention of southern languages like Telegu and Tamil to be included in the Hindi speaking north was intended as a means of unifying the nation state with a common language policy. The formula also sought to reduce the vast gulf between the educated and the masses by enshrining a place for regional languages as required study in the schools and as the MOI. In various forms the formula has been maintained within the National Policy on Education (NPE) until the present day.

Aggarwal (1988) suggests that a monolithic language policy for a multilingually complex and polycultural country like India is both “theoretically unsound and pragmatically un-implementable” (p. 290). Indeed, in a study undertaken for the National Council of Educational Research and Training (NCERT by Chatruvedi and Mohale (1976), the TLF was found to be applied very unevenly in the different regions. The evidence they gathered included syllabus data from state departments of education both through visits and a questionnaire with a goal to analyze the exact names and numbers of languages studied or as MOI, their status as 1st, 2nd, 3rd or 4th languages. They also looked at the weight assigned to the different languages by using instructional time and marks assigned to exams. The objectives of the school’s boards and the tools they assigned for evaluation and the qualifications of language teachers and in-service training was also investigated. The authors found that some states were giving students wide choices as to their first, second or third language, regardless of the social or cultural benefits of the languages. They also suggested that the TLF was not meeting its goals because of poor instructional methods for the different languages, which should be a concern to any language policy. These concerns were acknowledged in subsequent revisions of the NPE, but the policy itself remained essentially unchanged.

The 1992 edition of the NPE summarizes the situation effectively and succinctly:

11. The implementation of the three-language formula has been less than satisfactory. The main deficiencies include the following: (a) all the languages are not being taught compulsorily at the secondary stage; (b) a classical language has been substituted for a modern Indian language in some States; (c) no provision exists for the teaching of South Indian languages for which the formula indicated a preference, in the Hindi speaking States; (d) duration for compulsory study of three languages varies; and (e) competency levels to be achieved by students in respect of each language have not been precisely specified. (NPE, 1992, p. 151).

58 12. The effective implementation of the three language formula would require: (a) decision by States, State Boards of Secondary/ School Education, etc. to make the study of three languages compulsory at the secondary stage; (b) prescription of the Class from and the duration for which three languages will be taught; (c) specification of objectives of teaching different languages; and (d) specification of levels of language proficiency to be reached in respect of each language. (NPE, 1992, p. 151)

Thirteen years later, the NCERT’s National Curriculum Framework (2005) stated that, “the three-language formula needs to be implemented in its spirit, promoting multilingual communicative abilities for al multilingual country” (p.37). The following year’s Curriculum Framework for Teacher Education (CFTE) referred to the long history of education policy planning and acknowledged that while the TLF has been in force since the 1960’s, its implementation has been mostly inconsistent and varied (CFTE, 2006). The gap between shining ideals and complex realities is exemplified in its call for the recognition of the teacher “in enabling an empowering education that seeks to bridge gaps between the child and the adult, the pace of the child and the disciplinary demands and disparities in terms of gender, regions and linguistic differences” (p.10). The National Education Policy of 2016 recognized the significance of TLF and asserted, “It is desirable that school education should be provided through the medium of mother tongue or regional language, at least till Class V. The choice of the second (at the primary level) and third language (at the secondary level) should be left to individual states and local authorities to decide, keeping in view the provisions of the Constitution: (NEP (2016), p. 188). Yet these reports offer little in the way of measures to improve the consistency and the 2016 report continues previous refrains by stating that, “There are deviations in the implementation of TLF in many states and the policy was observed more in the breach than as a rule” (p. 188). India, it seems, still wants to keep dreaming.

3.3. A critical analysis of India’s language policy

The politically laden ideology behind India’s language policy contributes to sustaining particular relations of power and domination which permeate and affect many complex facets of Indian life (a value-based society based on caste, class, religion, gender, status etc.). In the Indian political arena, the constant struggle for supremacy between Hindi and English and the other languages of the nation has resulted in an uneven practice of multilingualism exacerbated by the ongoing neglect of minority languages whose members do not have access to political power. Even while Hindi was

59 not the majority language of the country, it was given official status along with English, sustaining its powerful hold both as a language of the north and the language of the dominant Hindu religion. In so doing, India gave notice to all and sundry that as its Hindu ideology was enmeshed within the language, it would continue to impress upon other languages both its power and control over education.

LPP research has always considered the backdrop of the kinds of political participation in how policy decisions are made in democratic nations. By studying the TLF’s historical development, I am aware of how Fairclough (2003) states that analysing discourse through textual analysis puts emphasis on the text’s potential impact on changes in beliefs, attitudes, resulting actions, relationships in society and the material world for “their effects on power relations” (p.9). It is not just meaning-making of the ideological text being produced, but also its interpretation and subsequent implementation that in turn, “take[s] account of the institutional position, interests, values, intentions, desires etc. of producers, the relations of elements at different levels in texts; and the institutional positions, knowledge, purposes, values etc. of receivers” (p.11). The openness of texts to diverse interpretations addresses both the explicit and the implicit within complex processes of understanding, judgement and evaluation in the post- independence Indian context.

3.3.1. Hindi and English: rivalry or complicity?

The Westernized elite (most of whom had been educated and groomed by the British over the centuries) who had led the Indian National Congress in the fight for Independence had a distinctive approach to language that still forms part of India’s heritage. Brass, (1974) writes, “Educated in English and emancipated from traditional religious and caste restrictions, they tried to communicate across linguistic, caste and religious barriers, often effectively…To overcome religious distinctions, they argued on behalf of secularism and toleration” (p. 414). But this tradition ran into entrenched opposition pre- and post-independence. As Brass notes, when it became taboo for groups to express their demands for political recognition on the basis of religion, language movements flourished and, in several cases, displaced religious identification for political reasons” (Brass, 2004, p.354). Hindus, in particular, dominated the economic life of cities all over India, and the Hindu elite used their narrow, upper caste, socially

60 exclusive cultural and linguistic distinctions to ensure Hindi’s long-lasting effect on the new Republic.

Many Indians practice Hinduism; however, this takes place through various languages and not necessarily through Hindi or Sanskrit (the language of the spiritual texts). Nonetheless, the drive for Sanskritized Hindi became an identity marker for Hindu nationalism. Thus, Independent India’s constitutional goal that Hindi take over from English as the language between the various states and the Central government appears now, at least in part, as the accomplishment of zealous Hindi language proponents driven by power-hungry post-colonial desires. “In addition, the constitution (Article 343) charged the Union with the duty to promote the spread of Hindi and to develop it so that it might serve as a medium of instruction for all the elements of the composite culture of India” (Gupta, 1970, p. 161). The short-sighted and arrogant idea of a Hindi-mediated composite culture of India drove wedges between and amongst communities of peoples in a country that valued its long literary and cultural traditions.

In that respect, English as the former colonial language at least has the advantage of not being implicated in a divisive, ethnically and religiously flavoured nationalism, but it has its set of issues as a post-colonial language steeped in power and privilege. The ostensible goal of policy planners from the time of Independence was for English to slowly be replaced by the regional languages and to assume a subordinate role, albeit an important one as a library language, and for Hindi to become the linking language across the country. However, this policy in fact enabled the continuing power and dominance of English and Hindi speakers to be entrenched in the official government machinery, while the continuing (and indeed growing) prestige of English ensured that the regional languages would never come to replace it. Upper class Hindi speakers claimed that if it became the official language of government, then the intelligentsia of every state would be forced to learn it, but this too failed to occur and Hindi continued to take second or third place in non-Hindi speaking regions. By default, Indians in the south could not get a toehold in bureaucracy since their Hindi was non- existent or at least not developed enough, allowing the continuing status quo, and the language in this regard did nothing to contribute to the unity of the nation. On the other hand, the Three Language Formula encouraged the teaching of southern languages in Hindi speaking regions but my research has shown that the uptake has been non- existent. The intent of the policy and its practice are at variance.

61 Thus, what on one level appears as a rivalry between Hindi and English for the position of a national linking language, on another level has worked to cement the privileges of elites at all levels. The triple hierarchy of regional languages over local languages and vernaculars, Hindi over regional languages (at least in the central government), and English over Hindi (especially in those domains most affected by globalization) fits well with Indian traditions of caste and class, even though it runs counter to the ideals of the Westernized elite who led the struggle for Independence. However, in the end they too bowed to the pressures of the religio-linguistic Hindu majority.

3.3.2. The neglect of minority languages

As we have seen, India’s language planning ideologies were developed by the northern Indian Hindi-speaking majority of the powerful political elite post-Independence, and have since been poorly contested by those outside the realms of power. The limited autonomy of the states (as in Tamil Nadu – a state which refuses to teach Hindi in the schools) has not, in general, worked in favour of most minority language communities. State Departments of Education, in particular, often base their decision making on powerful moral, religious, cultural and educational interests that do not respond to the needs of the powerless and marginalized. Punjab developed its own language policy in 1967 to mirror the TLF and has since continued to support the language’s use in public education, but it does only a small amount to support other minority languages in the state (like Urdu in the Muslim belt). This majority language control in education has been evident right from the beginning of the post-independence language policy cycle:

During the initial years after gaining independence different expert bodies on education such as the 1948 Central Advisory Board of Education, 1949 University Education Commission and 1956 Official Language Commission put a greater weight on the broad interpretation of mother tongue i.e. regarding all minority languages not having a written tradition as ‘dialects’ of the dominant language in the region. This interpretation amounted to an implicit denial of equal rights to linguistic minorities on the ground of practicability similar to the French view of treating minority languages such as Provençal, Breton and Basque as dialects of the dominant French (Khubchandani, 1997, p. 181).

Mohanty (2010) coins this not so uniquely Indian phenomena as the “double divide” – that is felt, “between the elitist language of power and the major regional

62 languages (vernaculars) and the other, between the regional languages and the dominated ones” (p. 131).The latter are languages of communities that have traditionally been under-resourced, and whose power is limited economically, statistically, socially and politically (rural, tribal, illiterate, small-in-number, etc.). Even in Punjab, where Sikhs profess to be a casteless society, the Punjabi language holds power over the languages of migrant workers (from other states with different languages); the latter have no power to have their vernaculars effectively included in the system. The regional language dilemma is driven home by Mohanty (2017b) in his study of English’s premier position in India states that are, “two powerful cleavages: one, between the dominant colonial language, English at the top of the hierarchy and the major national/regional languages (The English-Vernacular Divide), and the second, between these national/regional languages and the Indigenous, Tribal, Minority languages” (p. 268). The Punjab Language Act is significantly silent on minority languages within its state.

English, of course, adds further weight and complexity to this implicit relationship between discourse, power and ideology. NCERT’s position paper (2006), as part of its curricular framework for all studies in the public and private school system, opened with this statement:

English is in India today a symbol of people’s aspirations for quality in education and a fuller participation in national and international life. Its colonial origins now forgotten or irrelevant, its initial role in independent India, tailored to higher education (as a “library language”, a “window on the world”), now felt to be insufficiently inclusive, socially and linguistically, the current status of English stems from its overwhelming presence on the world stage and the reflection of this in the national arena…The visible impact of this presence of English is that it is today demanded by everyone at the very initial stage of schooling (p.1).

The statement seems to discount the historic positioning of English in the TLF as a third language in addition to Hindi or a regional language and the mother tongue. The privileged role of English within the caste or class system of India is glossed over in favour of a new hegemonic view that reflects values noted by Khubchandani forty years ago (1978), emphasizing “language privileges, cultural prestige and socio-economic mobility” (p.14). Scholars such as Biswas (2004), Khubchandani (2004), Canagarajah (2006) and Mohanty (2010) note how the power and prestige of English undermine the pedagogically sound commitment to teaching the mother tongue. As an example, LaDousa’s study from a decade ago, in Banaras, contrasted a teacher’s “disparaging,

63 multi-charactered portrait of Hindi-medium students” with “the cachet of English medium schooling, the growth of which has been facilitated by the Indian government’s policies of economic liberalization” (LaDousa, 2006, p. 50).

Less obvious, perhaps, is the role of Sanskritized Hindi in the subordination, absorption and displacement of a multiplicity of local and tribal languages, dialects and mother tongues after India adopted it as its official language for the Union. For example, in 1991 the census absorbed forty-eight plus languages and mother tongues into the heading ‘Hindi’ (Census of India, 1991, C7 part A) – a type of linguicism not seen at this scale anywhere else in the world. In addition, the standardization and purification of Hindi (through Sanskritization and the exclusive use of the Devanagari script) has created an unnatural barrier for Muslim students in India, who now have no access to the Persian script, resulting in politico-religious rifts (Swamy, 2003; Schiffman, 1996). And beyond even these divides, there is an issue of accessibility even for native speakers of the various Hindi dialects and mother tongues, as Das Gupta wrote in 1969:

True to the tradition of traditional India literati, they are developing Hindi in a direction that tends to make the new Hindi a compartmentalized preserve of the Hindi literary elite. Their logic of language development seems to go contrary to the logic of mass literacy, effective access to new groups to the educated communication arena, and to social mobilization of maximum human resources in general (p. 590).

More than thirty years ago, Dua (1985) suggested that LPP in India is impacted by three fundamentally important issues: 1. How languages have developed in different stages of the process; 2. How there are such complex differences within languages; 3. And the very diverse distribution of speakers of the many languages. These issues ring true today too as critical concerns for India’s language planning and policy. India is in a constant battle with technological and economic growth as the engine to prosperity, and the opposing demands for protection of linguistic diversity within complex and intricate hierarchical social realities of its peoples. From the Official Languages Act of 1963 onwards, language policies have developed under tight control by the Central government and the only official variance has been the addition of 8 more languages to Schedule VIII. The Constitution has made no change to Article 343 and has never given any language the status of national language.

64 Crucially important within that diversity are those languages that lack political, economic or cultural power at the state and national levels, such as the tribal languages. Tribes in India are a designated category in a schedule within the Constitution, and officially recognized as historically disadvantaged peoples. While Article 343 enshrines Hindi and English, and Schedule VIII lays out the 22 regional languages (changes have occurred between 1992 and 2003), other languages (some with more than a million speakers) have no constitutional protection or support. The700 strong scheduled tribal population constitutes about 8.6 percent of India’s total population, residing in the larger underdeveloped parts of the country with about 93% involved in agriculture in rural areas. However, rapid urbanization and increasing land development projects in mining are creating great pressures on the small land bases they occupy (some as landless labourers). Some of the major problems faced by the tribal populations include denial of schooling in mother tongue, a poor response to education and high attrition rates of students, gainful and sustained employment for adults, deforestation of their lands, scarcity of water, low agricultural yields, exploitation, debt, displacement and migration impacting resettlement and rehabilitation and a loss of identity, etc. (Paltasingh & Paliwal, 2014; Pandharipande, 2002; Nambisan, 1994). While language policy statements have routinely attempted to address issues related to tribal languages, the larger marginalized position of tribal communities has hindered social processes to mitigate their growing vulnerability. The inevitable question about why government planning processes do not address these issues can be answered in part because top down planning suggests that languages have to be developed in order to them to be included in new functions, creating an impossible task for under-resourced and undervalued minority languages (Mohanty, 2017b).

3.3.3. Multilingualism in education

Article 350A in the Constitution of India calls for instruction in mother-tongue at primary stage (Indian Constitution, n.d. – see Appendix D):

It shall be the endeavour of every State and of every local authority within the State to provide adequate facilities for instruction in the mother-tongue at the primary stage of education to children belonging to linguistic minority groups; and the President may issue such directions to any State as he considers necessary or proper for securing the provision of such facilities p. 177).

65 But I would suggest that when languages have been excluded from the domains of power like education, trade, law and statutory use, etc. their chances of growth and development are severely restricted. Minority or marginalized language communities do not have the social standing or training to negotiate and resist the status quo, further marginalizing their positions due to a historically accepted past. The social inequalities (caste, class, status etc.) present in the system and in India generally undermine the capacity of linguistic minorities to claim their own rights.

In 1966, the Report of the Education Commission suggested that in order for education to adopt the regional languages of the area, they must adopt them as the media of instruction at the University stage as well. The Union government agreed in 1967 that regional languages would be developed at all stages and in all subjects. “In announcing the decision, the Minister for Education declared that the government was convinced that this was the only way to mobilize the creative energies of the people, to raising the standard of education, and to bridge the wide gulf that separated the elite from the masses in India” (Gupta, 1970, p. 251-252).

These aspirations remained as such until today. There is little understanding that impoverishment of regional languages (by design/policy) at the school level would first need be addressed by people in power by creating larger scope of development for these weaker and disadvantaged languages before higher education could be held accountable. After the July 1966 Report of the Education Commission, thirty seven universities swiftly implemented written examinations in regional languages listed in the eighth schedule of the Constitution (Assamese, Bengali, Bodo, Dogri, Gujarati, Hindi, Kannada, Kashmiri, Konkani, Maithili, Malayalam, Manipuri, Marathi , Nepali, Odia, Punjabi, Sanskrit, Santhali, Sindhi, Tamil ,Telugu ,Urdu). However, only small amounts of financial support came from the Union to prepare text books in the regional language and for the general development of these languages. This is but one example of the half- hearted approach to multilingual education in India.

It is indicative of the failure of a language policy driven by political ideologies that after more than seven decades, even today in India there is a three-tiered hierarchical language system (Mohanty, 2010b) and that the very same policy continues to exist in the face of ongoing and growing inequity. For example, in private schools English has continued to gain favour as the language of higher education and commerce at the top

66 rung, and Hindi has maintained a tenuous hold as the preferred language in Hindi- speaking states at the middle rung with other (perhaps even foreign) languages making up the third tier (Mohanty, 2010b). There is so much ambiguity in the policy that states like Punjab have created their own (TLF complimentary) language policies which have given them regional language rights that supersede Hindi and the mother tongue of the region has become the MOI in government schools as in the case of Punjab.

Meganthan (2011) reports that there are 75 different educational languages in the country (p. 26), out of which 31 are used as MOI – half of what was used in 1980. It is also disappointing that marginalized and minority languages that have few speakers and are mostly rurally bound have been neglected or relegated to beyond the bottom tier. The disdain and cultural disregard for tribal languages for example is commonly understood and mostly acceptable as an attitude in educational institutions and the public arena. Mohanty et al (2010) assert that, “Though politically indigenous languages have been given rhetorical support to symbolize national identities, English has established itself as the language of power often benefiting from internal conflicts between competing linguistic assertions” (p.211).

The Union’s recognition of ongoing systemic structural hierarchical differences in a society like India, gives full evidence of how some language speakers have access to power and privilege while others are truly marginalized and disadvantaged. Mohanty (2008) claims that this policy-rich but practice-shy tiered system leads to education failure, as minority linguistic groups never get the chance to show their capability in their language(s) – describing India’s multilingualism as a “multilingualism of the unequals” (Mohanty, 2004). Mohanty (2010b) suggests that, “Language maintenance in the hierarchical multilingualism in India involves marginalization, domain shrinkage, identity crisis, deprivation of freedom and capability, education failure (due to inadequate home language development and forced submersion in majority language schools) and poverty “(p.138).

In the current moment, the National Curriculum Framework of the National Council of Educational Research and Training (NCERT) strongly promotes mother tongue education, but state practices largely do not support its intent, while the private system responds to an entirely different set of values. Private schools in India that cater to the rich and powerful are “distinctly westernized in school practices and classroom

67 teaching” (Mohanty et al, 2010, p. 216). While private schools largely utilize English as the formal language of teaching and learning (MOI), almost all government schools teach it only as a language subject. The elite of India (both in the north and south – pre and post- Independence) who have always been highly educated prefer English medium education as an upward mobility tool for job opportunities, “in higher administration, global corporations, international institutions and colleges and universities abroad” (Brass, 2004, p.356-7), They regularly disparage acquisition of the vernacular, inculcate linguistic narcissism and in so doing retain and maintain upper class power.

The economic choices afforded to children educated in English MOI private schools is well recognized and quite uncritically accepted in Indian society. Brass (2002) suggests that many factors affect language acquisition, foremost among them “social and economic opportunities provided by different language choices, government discrimination or acceptance, and intensity of communal religious conflict” (p.362). The relationship between English and the vernacular is also socially constructed, with those students that have access to English in the home/community having greater advantage over those that do not. As the economically advantaged powerfully privileged English- speaking elite continue to send their children to English medium schools, then the TLF is seen as simply a political declaration and its mandate to encourage regional language learning does not really affect the chances of success (and continued power/privilege) for their children.

Having critically explored the background to the language planning and policy issues in India, what comes to the fore is that these processes have not been able to accomplish what they set out to do. The official languages have been unable to fulfill their mandate post-Independence to unify the country politically, socially, culturally or linguistically. While acknowledging the complexity governing the question of languages in India, status, associated privilege and power continue to challenge the egalitarian quest of the framers of the Constitution in 1949. In this very public text the formal declarations of status, role and standing of languages are clearly delineated providing the most decisive and authoritative source for planning purposes. The intent and symbolic text provided both political accommodation and a partial response to societal reality as a result of public discourse: debates, arguments and discussions in post- independence India. The declaration of the role and standing of languages in the Constitution of India reflects the relationships of Indian languages within a polity. India’s

68 national-level language planning processes include discourse involving political rhetoric, interests, and communal ideologies which have influenced state planning and policy. The movement of language planning to language usage is part of a continuum from public discourse informing public texts to action that influences language itself. It is this dynamic relationship between language planning and policy and its implementation that takes me from historic legacy to current goals and jurisdictions of State policymakers.

Methodology

4.1. Critical Discourse Analysis and language planning and policy

This study is inspired and guided by the tradition of critical discourse analysis (CDA). I wanted to study the way language planning and policy is constructed within a wide variety of unequal social relationships as a socio-cultural practice in India. I was interested in the tensions between state and civil society actors (Heller, 2018), consequences for social groups (Papen, 2001) and the unexpected problems associated with implementation within the language policy cycle (Canagarajah, 2006). I see this critical analysis of India’s language polices (and especially their implications for education) as both important and useful, partially due to the recent shift of LPP becoming more engaged with “globalization and late modern conditions such as increasing mobilities and the heteroglossia of social life” (Tollefsen & Pérez-Milans, 2018).

By necessity, texts occupy a central position in language policy and the language curriculum. Rogers (2011) work in discourse analysis of educational research suggests, “Educational practices are considered communicative events; it therefore stands to reason that discourse analysis would be useful to analyze the ways in which the texts, and other semiotic interactions that learning comprises are constructed over time and contexts” (p. 1). In a positivist-empiricist understanding of text as discourse, the text is considered to be a repository of knowledge and understanding that is embraced by the discipline. Critical theoretical analyses suggest, however, that “meaning does not reside in a text, but in the writing or reading of it…. meanings are often contradictory and always socially embedded” (Hodder, 1994, p. 394).

The ideologies of social institutions are laden by language (Wodak, 2015) and Gal (2006) defines language ideologies as, “cultural ideas, presumptions, and presuppositions with which different social groups name, frame and evaluate linguistic practices” (p. 13). I am interested in the kinds of privilege attached to language which is a theme in most linguistic analysis and the discriminatory paradoxes inherent in

70 discourse (us and them), generalizations and the complex exclusionary practices in the socio-political discourses. I see discourse as a theoretical concept to study power structures, dominance and inequalities that are, “enacted, reproduced, and resisted by text and talk in social and political contexts” (can Dijk, 2004, p. 352). The reproduction of ideology in language is central to my understanding of discourse analysis. Does language (in policy) include/exclude certain groups and does it represent its historical structural ideology?

I am interested in “a type of discourse analytical research that primarily studies the way social power, abuse, dominance and inequality are enacted, reproduced and resisted by text and talk in the social and political content” (Van Dijk, 2001, p.352). In this case, the inequitable relationships might be between nation and state, policy actor and the polity, teacher and student, etc. Drawing on the discourse-historical approach of Reisigl and Wodak (2015), which examines how semiotic structures and material institutions shape and influence each other, I set out to understand the “mechanisms of coercion and consent’ (Wodak & Meyer, 2009, p. 7) within India’s educational language planning and policy, especially as they relate to the “diversity of the social spaces involved in their construction and the plurality of actors that contribute to them” (Wodak and Savski, 2018, p. 95).

In India, nationally promulgated language policies are steeped in colonial, geo- political hierarchies and cultural traditions. In this manner it is critically important for me as a researcher to understand the historical perspectives that traditionally essentialize language planning and policy, placing them beyond critique, as a form of discursive hegemony exercised by those who have power over those that have to work very hard to achieve it (McLaren, 2016).

Fairclough’s (2003) three level analysis of critical discourse allowed me to include texts, discourse practices and discursive events for data collection, analysis and results in an attempt to analyze the production and reception of texts that are ideologically shaped by relations of power. For Fairclough the micro, meso and macro levels of analysis considers textual/linguistic analysis (micro), issues of production and consumption (meso), and the very broad social dilemmas affecting the text (macro). Within this study, a focus on the politics of language policy development and implementation beyond the texts themselves provides a wider understanding of language policy and planning.

71 My approach was to analyse the historical-political framing of language planning and policy in India pre- and post-Independence, and its continuous effect and outcomes in one province (Punjab) to the current day. For a better understanding of the institutional contexts within which language policy is situated, I focused specifically on the Ministry of Education in Punjab. This allowed me to critically investigate how India’s Three Language Formula is being carried into language policy frameworks, in a province in India where India’s two dominant languages of Hindi and English are secondary to a minority one in the language policy framework of the state. This study illustrates how a historically situated language policy is discursively and ideologically framed by the central government’s political environment, while its production and consumption takes place through directives mediated by policy actors in the state of Punjab. Ministry officials at the state level are charged with implementing a language policy that is steeped in socio-political history and subject to the bureaucratic processes assigned to policy implementation.

The research questions that guide this study include understanding the tension between language policy and planning and the institutions as discursive spaces for policy implementation. To support my questions, I agree with Wodak’s (1995) claims that three concepts “figure indispensably in all critical discourse analysis: the concept of power, the concept of history and the concept of ideology” (p 151). CDA allows for the interpretation and explanation of power differentials while moving forward from detailed textual analysis. I recognize also that, “there is a paradox that exists within any institution between the structural constraints that enable its existence and the agency of individuals acting within it” (Wodak & Savski, 2018, p. 96).

Fairclough (2001) models an analytical framework that I employ for the analysis of my research in this study (p. 125-127):

1. Focus on the social problem which has a semiotic aspect: language policies that are impacted by socio-political (beliefs) forces of the nation-state and the resources necessary to tackle the problems associated with the practice.

2. An analysis of the dominant and influential ways of interacting, ways of using language in interaction (institutions e.g. State Legislatures, Boards of education, schools, the classroom) and the obstacles therein:

72 1. The network of practices it is located within 2. The relationship of semiosis to the elements within the particular practices(s) concerned 3. The discourse (the semiosis itself)

• Structural analysis: the order of discourse • Interactional analysis • Interdiscursive analysis • Linguistic and semiotic analysis

3. Consider whether the social order (network of practices) in a sense ‘needs’ the problem: does the ideology behind the language policy contribute to sustaining particular relations of power and domination. 4. Identify possible ways past the obstacles: positive critical identification of social change to close the gaps or failures within the domination of the social order (mother tongue’s position vis-a-vis the hegemony of English or English/Hindi) or showing difference and resistance. 5. Reflect critically on the analysis (1-4): how effective is the critique? Does it contribute to social emancipation or is the analysis compromised due to the research positioning?

4.2. Data collection

My field work for this study was located in the region of Mohali in the province of Punjab in northwest India. The state’s Board of Education is located not in the capital city of Chandigarh, but rather in Mohali which is the adjoining city to the larger metropolis. I chose this particular state because of my own linguistic-cultural identity and my interest in the linguistic inheritance of my children. My early research and prior knowledge indicated that it is a region of India where the linguistic quotient of public education meets the intent and purpose and mandate of the Three Language Formula. As well, my fluency in the Punjabi vernacular (and Hindi –which is just as necessary) with officials, and ability to read and translate the relevant documents, were significant assets. I understood the governance model of bureaucratic hierarchy in the Ministry of Education to be fairly well developed in response to the State’s free public-school system. Publicly funded education in Punjab (like other states) is available for all children under the Right to Education Act and the State Board that has the responsibility to

73 oversee the education is managed by senior career bureaucrats who are part of the Indian Civil Service (Punjab cadre). Officials within the Board’s departments are delegated responsibilities that fulfill various education policy demands.

Since research on public policy is part of the public domain, and there is no reasonable expectation of privacy concerns, I did not have to undergo ethics review (as per SFU’s ethics mandate – R20.01, article 7.8). My study is of the discourse in policy directive documents as issued by the State of Punjab for public school education – thus, In order to undertake fieldwork, I familiarized myself with the structure of the Punjab Ministry of Education and within it the Punjab School Education Board (PSEB) by studying the government bureaucratic system. I spent eight months in the region over the course of a year, and in the initial stage, made formal introductions to the Ministry’s Principal Secretary and successfully obtained permission to meet with the Director of Education at the Punjab Ministry of Education and with bureaucrats responsible for language policy implementation within the Board offices. The Director further kindly informed the language policy division that I had received his consent and that the officials could share the policy directive documents for my perusal at a mutually convenient time. I explained that the individuals themselves were not the focus of the research, as I was collecting only the documents related to language policy implementation directives that Ministry officials develop and not their perspectives or insights on the texts. The documentary data was well preserved within the Ministry and access to online and hard copies of policy directive texts were made available for the purpose of my research.

Since I am studying Punjab’s policy system and focusing on understanding its relatability/complementarity to India’s national framework, Punjab’s policy arena was fertile ground to find answer to my research questions. One-way management practices can be understood is by analyzing policy texts that are influenced by the socio-historic struggle of language rights in the Punjab. The inequities present in the state’s sociolinguistic needs are also analysed using a textual analysis. I am interested in analyzing how the hegemonic influence of English is combatted by a heavily bureaucratized and centralized policy system that guards the public-school system.

I visited Punjab’s Ministry of Education offices regularly at pre-appointed times to study the texts developed by language policy planners, curriculum theorists and

74 bureaucrats, in order to familiarize myself with the directives that mediate the language policy regime. I was seeking knowledge of the connections between language policy and language education in Punjabi as those are fostered through top down policy planning and discourses that in turn are driven by powerful actors within the ecological environment (linguistic, economic, social, cultural and natural).

The various bureaucrats produce about 20 to 40 policy directives (called circulars) every month that address various areas from staffing requirements to decisions on compensation to school syllabi. I studied these circulars every month for eight months to undertake textual analysis of the nature of directives and their application. I observed that policy actors were busy in their offices every day, meeting with each other in designing directives that met both national and state goals to ensure Punjabi MOI thrives within the public system. I was told to wait for directives as they were being crafted and only had access to them once they were posted on the SSA website. No drafts or intermediate communication were shared with me and I worked to analyse the final directives to understand their relevance to this study. The policy actors got used to my presence in anticipation of a directive that would be posted and although I did not ask for their insights, they were generally congenial, friendly and kind to my presence. The PSEB policy directives are an integral part of the authority of the Board officials who take seriously the responsibility and function of issuing circulars with regularity.

Upon receiving the texts, I first and foremost set to translating the formal part of the policy directives into English for ease of reference. This took the longest time and while I am fluent in Punjabi, the academic nature of the language required some getting used to. . I translated and deliberated on 182 of the policy texts and further analyzed 21 in order to critically examine the language and textual imperatives as they related to language planning and policy. The texts were developed by senior policy actors in Punjabi with the final authority (signature) resting with the Directors of the Board. The circulars were extremely varied in their content signifying the broad range of authority within the Board. It was clearly evident that language policy texts were particularly defined along and supported by national and state policy frameworks. While translating the texts, I did find that the Punjabi texts had a stronger linguistic presence (original language) and something was lost in the translation.

75 Some semiotic influences to my time were the all-encompassing Punjabi language presence. All signs, posts, documents and office paraphernalia (needing instruction) were in the Punjabi language and even my phone calls were responded to with a greeting and conversations in Punjabi. All these indicated to me a strong designated promotion of linguistic meaning-making for all that entered/worked at the PSEB offices. Most of my oral communication with anyone in the offices was in Punjabi and it was strangely comforting to know that my diasporic position had not weakened my linguistic acceptance in Punjabi at the Board offices.

My initial analysis revealed that each circular had been vetted through many official processes before being posted on the Depart of School Education’s website and forwarded to the district authority or school. I noted the multiple signatures and dates that were attached to the document for transparency sake to signify its importance and weight. Each circular’s announcement on the Department’s website was in English but the circular itself (digitized document) was (almost) always in Punjabi with only a few exceptions in English for relevant information related to Grade 11 and 12 or syllabus. From my observations, I noted that all circulars were heavily bureaucratized with multiple signatures of authorities, many dates of approval for enactment and final authorization and many authorities c.c.’d on the documents and were forwarded to a large range of authorities – all encompassing.

The Punjabi language used was highly academic, very formal and devoid of any grammatical errors, indicating a strong preference that it was targeting an educated audience (education authorities) and was intended for a singularly targeted linguistic audience as well. This policy directive method assumes the audience is fluent in formal Punjabi as the PSEB hiring policy precludes any teacher or authority to join the PSEB without the perquisite knowledge of Punjabi. While its intended audience may have full and relatively easy access to the directives, policy actors do not include ways to allow the documents to reach a whole stakeholder group who may not have the perquisite language skills – e.g. the parents of schools going children. It is assumed that further direction to any stakeholder as needed would be provided by education authorities through other various means of communication.

Policy directives that I analyzed also almost always provided the legal framework (POLA, RTE Act, Court decisions etc.) from which they were influenced or created,

76 again indicating the strength of bureaucratic power and hierarchy, leaving little room for ambiguity. Jurisdiction seemed to be an important matter in all directives with much attention to detail about who developed the directive and under what rule and circumstance(s), at what date and with whose authority (law or person). None of the documents provided any opportunity or leeway for input or further direction as strongly worded language clearly elucidated as to how and when and through whom the directive came into force. It was abundantly obvious that those making the directives were clearly acting on behalf of the higher authority and that the directions were to be followed by the intended audience without question. No direct feedback responses were indicated in any of the policy circulars.

In a country like India where bureaucracy is rampant and red tape is something everyone is used to and expects, the highly formal and academic language in these circulars did not come as a surprise to me, although I feel there is room for a simpler, more gently inclusive manner of language execution. I was pleasantly impressed that circulars were also proactive notices of instruction for education officials with effort made to keep them abreast with all policy directives in a timely manner, regardless of how the approval processes (as indicated by the numerous signed approval dates) took months to reach final execution.

I also invested time in studying the socio-historical textual record of India’s language planning and policy as part of my analytical process, in order to understand the macro, meso and micro contexts that shape the formulation and implementation of local policy directives. With regard to Fairclough’s first point in his 2001 framework, I studied the political, historical and social contexts in Punjab in terms of the status planning of language policies – in this case within the Three Language Formula policy framework and the historical development of the Punjab Official Languages Act. According to Corson (1990), “A national policy on languages is a set of nationally agreed principles which enable decision makers to make choices about language issues in a rational, comprehensive and balanced way. It should form the basis for the allocation of resources for language programmes to suit the interests of all members of the community” (p. 157). My approach was to analyze the historical records/debates/policy briefs/commission reports etc. as to whose interests were in fact being served, by what policy choices, and according to what rationales and motivations.

77 With regard to Fairclough’s (2001) second point, in order to gain qualitative content analysis of policy planning and implementation, I employed depth interviews that were guided by an open-ended questionnaire to bureaucrats (state actors) who implement state policies. In a semi-structured format, the questions sought insight into the technical directions informing the respondent’s responses (Brinkman, 2014). Meeting and interviewing persons with the knowledge I needed for analysis over a period of time allowed me to understand the multidimensional nature of LPP as a policy system, and to apply CDA to existing directives within the language policy frameworks. While focused on education (i.e. government schools), these policies are governed and mediated by sociopolitical forces of the state. The policy planners are persons at the Ministry at an appropriately senior level who are responsible for the TLF official policy and the Punjab Language Act, 2008 (see Appendix A). They fulfill the functionality of the policies by assisting with the development of the policy’s vision, and by undertaking specific initiatives towards compliance with the policy and its associated directives and standards.

The bureaucrats were willing to undertake the interviews once personal contact was made through the proper authorities as described above. The hierarchical nature of their positions was entrenched in strong codes of conduct which in turn elicited varying responses, from very engaged to minimally interested persons. As Cataldi (2018) points out, often “in-depth interviews are characterized by a ping-pong between the two subjects involved, in order to better investigate and understand the emergent information” (p. 310). In such interactions, two active partners are involved in “meaning- making-work” (Marshall & Rossman, 1989; Fishman, 2003; Miller, & Crabtree, 2004; Patton, 2005; Boeije, 2010; Cataldi, 2018), which in this case was directed at the macro, meso and micro contexts operating in the state Board of Education in Punjab. The dynamics of emic interaction between the subject and the researcher was relational, both in terms of knowledge sharing and representation, and hence varied with the people involved. I took notes and wrote up the conversations afterwards and if needed checked back with the informants by phone to confirm facts.

While I brought my own western ideology framed standards to the fieldwork process, including time (being punctual) and the functioning of the interview (without interruptions), I did not always find it the case that the Indian subject willingly conformed to my expectations. In fact, some of them made no excuses for their tardiness or

78 singularly unfocused unavailability, and I realized that so it should be, since I was in their territory and had to stake out my own needs with cross-cultural awareness, care and understanding. This was only a slight issue, nothing that could not be surmounted with patience. The interviews with bureaucrats were nonetheless enlightening, as I sought to understand language policy directives (with the TLF in particular) around language access, utilization, the unevenness of linguistic power, and implementation of a minority language as the MOI.

While the work of language policy planners was critically important to my study, it was also vital to understand the socio-cultural, socio-political and socio-historical contexts of LPP in Punjab. An analysis of government documents that detailed the history (evolution) of the language policies was also undertaken to assist with meaning- making of socio-political events (from independence from colonial rule to self- government). In support of this, it was important to conduct a documentary analysis of the three competing views in India’s history of language management, in terms of “recognition of the importance of indigenous languages, acceptance and the value of mother tongue education and the desire to establish a national language for political unity” (Spolksy, 2009, p.157).

Accordingly, I undertook research to study policy documents at the National Archives in New Delhi and Chandigarh, Punjab. My goal was to locate literature on the policy frameworks of India like the National Policy on Education, 1968, 1986, 1992, 2005, 2016, India’s Three Language Formula 1948, 1952, 1968, the Official Languages Act of 1963,1967, Official Languages Rules 1976,1987, Punjab Official Language Act 1960, 1967, 2008, Official Languages in the Indian Constitution (Sections), the National Curriculum Frameworks of 1975,1988, 2000, 2005 (NCERT), the various Reports of the Commissioner of Linguistic Minorities of India, etc.. The analysis of India’s documentary evidence of language policies over the last seventy plus years is developed from studying the historic succession of documents and the consecutive actions of policy makers as they mediated changes and as new iterations were directed and enforced.

Scollon & Scollon (2001), in their analysis of discourse and intercultural communication, suggest that “In most analysis of discourse as text, the analysis seeks to position itself as well as the discourse being studied within a broader sociocultural and historical context” (p. 27). In my investigation, as patterns with policy documents

79 emerged, relationships to language planning, hegemonic and powerful socio-political influences and relevant linguistic policy context were discovered and I looked for links to cultural/social and political situations. Just as Fairclough (2001) suggests that interactional analysis “shows how the ‘new economic order’ is constructed textually as an inevitable fact of life” (p.133), I was interested in how the language order in India is similarly rendered unquestionable. At the same time, the goal of my analysis was to take this study from what ‘is’ to what ‘ought’ to be, identifying possible ways to address the inequities in language planning and policy that is shaped by powerful bases, continuing to affect marginalized individuals and groups.

An important question is whether a critical theory perspective and critical discourse analysis as a methodology together adequately address the central concerns in the areas I am investigating – for example, the primacy of English in post-colonial nations like India. Barker and Galasinski (2001) state that CDA as a theory provides “the potential for a systematic/repeatable insight into the linguistic form capable of unravelling social practice” (p. 25). However, critical theory takes us further, as it points to prior histories and the hard questions about how these histories were produced; it further asks who speaks for whom in the constantly changing society in which we work. My work sees discourse as a domain of social struggle, relative to ideological and political contexts; its goal is social transformation through changing power relations tied to institutional practices and knowledges. In this regard, Van Dijk (2001) suggests that CDA helps us to focus on social problems “and on the role of discourse in the production and reproduction of power abuse or domination” (p. 96), with emphasis on the need, “for a broad, diverse, multidisciplinary and problem-oriented CDA” (p.97).

Ultimately, I gathered research evidence by studying the kinds of directives made by policy makers/language planners in Punjab, and by examining the continuing influence of the historical record of India’s and Punjab’s language planning and policy implementation. Although the majority of my research was undertaken in English, in my field work I used English, Punjabi and Hindi and easily interacted with policy documents that were written in English, Hindi and Punjabi. I realise that having that linguistic capability and fluidity made the research process that much smoother and easier to navigate. In India, the average person moves between at least three languages quite easily and this was true in all my interactions in Delhi and in Punjab with policy actors. What is ironic for this study is that within critical discourse analysis, the hegemony of

80 English continues; the leading theorists, although not Anglophone (Bourdieu, Foucault, Wodak), gained international recognition only once their work was translated into English. “In this respect, there is dramatic irony that the work of critical discourse researchers is published exclusively in English” (Norton, 1997, p. 213).

CDA questions the inherent power of the researcher since positions of power and inequalities are being investigated. I am aware of the ethical concerns of a potential Western-centric, orientalist and hegemonic stance involved in challenging the unequal power relationships in another country, albeit one that was my birth country. In the post- colonial setting of India, I am deeply aware that some latent issues of the colonial mindset continue to exist; western ideals are still idealized and the position of a western researcher is sometimes given a higher level of credence. Indeed, I am aware that many of my privileges and affiliations influenced the undertaking of this study, but I am careful to not let it impact any analysis. For example, I am a product of India’s social/political history and culture and this gave me an advantage in my investigation as an insider, yet I am also an outsider with real privilege of a western affiliation. My affinity with my mother tongue and studying it through CDA is in itself a political act, as I seek to “interrupt” how LPP is understood and acted upon in Punjab by attempting to foreground historic domination and inequality inherent in the politics of language. These factors undoubtedly helped to shape the study; however, I am confident that the policy histories, situations and processes it describes would be accessible to other researchers as well, and to a considerable extent its findings and conclusions are intersubjectively validated.

Ethical concerns for me included ensuring a non-judgemental ability (staying critically open minded) to analyze truth claims within historic political policy texts that are laden with their own values and how I critique them against values of justice, equality and liberty. If there is any activism within the methods I employ, I want to ensure that they reflect emancipatory goals for language rights within the social realities of Punjab. In my study, policy actors undertake courses of action to develop directives in response to national and state language policies, providing access to a critical analysis of how power positions itself in language planning and policy. To analyse the powerful position Fairclough & Fairclough (2018) suggest how ethical values need to be included in the research: “what values are arguers (e.g. politicians) arguing from? What are the values that CDA analysts are espousing, from the perspective of which they are evaluating the arguments of those arguers? What are the values of other critics (including critics of

81 CDA)”? (p.3). As a researcher any biases I may hold towards my own mother tongue (Punjabi) and its status in Punjab were put to the test as I sought to understand whose interests the language policies serve and how positions of power and privilege continue to maintain the status quo.

Punjabi and Punjab – language policy development and implementation

5.1. Punjab and Punjabi: an introduction

With the historical and political struggles over language in independent India as a backdrop, this chapter now turns to Punjab in an investigation of language planning and policy at the state level. For this study I met with various bureaucrats in the Punjab Ministry of Education who were responsible for managing associated language policy standards, planning mechanisms and issuing directives (Appendix A), and also extensively reviewed documents in Punjabi, Hindi and English with a bearing on the management of language in the government and in schools. Drawing on Fairclough’s three-dimensional frameworks of language texts, discourse practices and discursive events, I sought to reveal the complex historical, political and cultural forces at play at the macro and micro level (federal and state), and thereby to understand the ecology of languages in Punjab and the role of policy actors and agents that implement language policy directives.

Although in Punjab the regional language is not a minority language (numerically), it is inextricably affected by interaction with the other major languages of India, the political and social environment and the geo-political threats that are ever present by virtue of being an Indian frontier state (the Punjab state frontiers with historically hostile Pakistan). Hindi and Urdu function alongside Punjabi as vernaculars of the region generally and in concentrated pockets both as the language of communities and of study. As an example, the Nawab Sher Mohammad Khan Institute of Advanced Studies in Urdu, Persian and Arabic is part of Punjabi University, Patiala and is named after one of the founders of the only Muslim majority state of Malerkotla (which is now a district in Punjab and where Urdu is the third language in Punjabi MOI schools. Bigelow’s (2011) study on memory making by minorities in India, speaks to the ability of the Muslim population in Malerkotla to continue to co-exist peacefully in post- partition Punjab, partly because they have kept their collective past and identity alive through a “mnemotechnical project that produces a collective identity based on

83 inclusiveness and interreligious peace” (p. 375). But it is not that simple to co-exist as minority languages and this study strives to understand the heavily laden political machinery that is dedicated to language rights for Punjabi at the cost of giving second and third class consideration to other vibrant languages of the region.

In his extensive study of language, religion and politics in northern India, Paul Brass (1974) makes a very important statement, “only the Punjabi speaking Sikhs in the north have been able to withstand the trend towards linguistic assimilation in north India to the extent of achieving dominance for themselves and for the Punjabi language in a territorially demarcated political unit” (p.277). This unique situation means that Punjab cannot be taken to be representative of other states in the Indian federation. On the other hand, many social and linguistic factors are shared with other states, including the political and economic dominance of English and Hindi in India to which Punjab cannot be totally immune. Issues confronted in Punjab generally have resonance in other regions as well.

A fertile state located on a great alluvial plain in northwest India, Punjab takes its name from the five rivers, Beas, Chenab, Jhelum, Ravi and Sutlej which flowed through undivided Punjab before land partition in 1947: Punj (five) and ab (body of water). Today, according to the 2011 Census of India, Punjab is one of 29 Indian states with a population of 33,124,726 and covering a total area of 50,362 sq. km. Forming 2.29% of India’s population, it has a growth rate of 13.89%, below the national average of 17.64%. The literacy rate in Punjab stands at 75.84 %, an increase in the last decade from 69.65%. Sikhs make up about half the population with 16,004,754, Hindus another third at 10,678,138, while Muslims (535,489), Christians (348,230), Jains (45,040), Buddhists (33,237) and other religions make up the rest (Census of India, 2011). As indicated in the earlier table, 92.2% of the population speaks Punjabi.

The large amount of arable land in this plain has always afforded the area an agricultural economy, with a fertile old alluvium that is perfect for growing wheat. Concentration of urban and industrial areas occurred only in advantageous locations in flood free tracts of land. Massive internal migration to Punjab occurred in the colonial period from 1886-1947, in response to the canalization of land to meet the imperial needs of wheat and cotton and to raise animals needed in the police and army. Powerful caste groups, “such as the Jats and Rajputs, partook the better-quality land while the

84 less productive areas were left to be shared by the weaker ones such as the Arains and the Gujjars” (Krishan, 2004, p. 79). Since Independence, migration to big cities from villages has been on the upswing, and this process of urbanization has contributed to the dilution of traditional languages and the intermingling of castes and classes of peoples.

Punjabi is an Indo-Aryan language spoken mostly in its traditional homeland, how divided between the northwest of India and eastern Pakistan. According to Ethnologue (2017, 20th edition) there are 122 million speakers worldwide - with 92 million in Pakistan, 28 million in India and 2 million living in the various diaspora countries. Punjabi has four major dialects: Majhi, Malwai, Doabi, and Powadhi – with Majhi considered to be the standard form of the Punjabi language and the only dialect that is spoken both in India and Pakistan. Malwai is the dialect of people who live in the central and southern part of Indian Punjab; Doabi is spoken in the land between the two rivers Beas and Sutlej; while Powadhi is spoken in the lower hill ranges of the north facing the Sivalik Hills. In such a small region the internal diversity of the language, both in the written, oral and formal forms, is quite varied (Kaur, Singh and Kaur, 2017). It is often quoted that the language changes every 100 miles in India and this is true in Punjab too, with many sub- dialects across the urban and rural language landscape.

Punjabi is a complex old language with a ‘high variety’ (written, formal), based on an extensive history in literature and in urban settings, and a range of ‘low varieties’ based on local vernaculars, mostly in the oral tradition, which continue to some extent in the rural landscape. My personal experiences with the Punjabi language are with Malwai/urban (patrilineal), Doabi/rural (after marriage) and schooled Punjabi. While there is fluency in my repertoire, it requires getting used to the variety of high and low contexts and the standardized language taught in school. As Brass (1974) states, “The regional standard of Punjabi which is taught in the schools is, of course, different from many of the regional Punjabi dialects, but there is not among the Punjabi speakers anything comparable to the caste distinctions which exist among Maithili speakers” (Brass, 1974, p.406). However, when a large gap exists between the local vernacular and the standard language, this can pose difficulties for literacy (Srivastava, 1978), and this may be an issue in some areas of Punjab.

85 There is also a serious political complexity of being one of the 22 languages with official language status in India, spoken by a cultural and religious minority in a small region. Punjabi culture and its concomitant language have always dominated state politics of Punjab (Brass, 2005) and the Punjabi communities of Punjab (where the majority of Punjabis are Sikhs) practice a particular kind of traditional, linguistic, cultural and ethnic Punjabi ethos (punjabiyat) within which the language (in Gurmukhi script) has taken precedence as an identity marker. The language of the gurus (Sikh masters/teachers whose teachings are inscribed in the holy text) has been one of the three critical identity markers for Sikhs, along with historical and religious symbols (Grewal, 1998). Historically, Sikhs experienced extensive religious discord with the Muslims based on historic invasions and oppression by Moghul rulers from the 16th to the 18th century, but Hindus and Sikhs had almost no historic animosity along religious lines (Deol, 2003). As well, traditionally Hindus and Sikhs had been commonly opposed to Urdu as an official language of the region and against Muslim dominance in Punjab; however, after independence, Hindu-Sikh rivalry and agitation started up and steadily increased (Gupta, 1970). In Reny’s (2009) study of the political salience of language and religion for Sikhs in Punjab she examines the paradox: “Hindus would perhaps not be as resistant to recognize the Gurmukhi script if it did not have such a Sikh connotation, and Sikhs would not be as inclined to favour the Gurmukhi script if it was not as religiously symbolic” (p. 494).

For the purpose of this investigation I consider Punjab as a cultural-ecological zone where ethnicity, religion and language are intertwined in complex and dynamic ways. The influences of ethnicity, religion and language have always been felt in Punjab in regards to how the state has responded to federal policy initiatives in relation to state language development in Punjab. The broader multilingual patterns of Punjab have always included Punjab born Hindus whose first language is Punjabi, with no religious connotation and who use it more as a tool of education, communication and correspondence (Brass, 1974). However, prosperity attached to the rural economy of Punjab attracts a large pool of migrants from eight less economically advantaged northern states of India like UP, Bihar, Haryana, Himachal Pradesh, West Bengal, Jammu and Kashmir and Rajasthan. All of these are Hindi speaking states, resulting in 952,810 migrants migrating to work in the agricultural sector of Punjab in 2001 (Singh, Singh & Ghuman, 2007). In Kaur et al’s (2011) study of migrant laborer’s migrating to

86 Punjab, they found 90% belonged to the Hindu faith, and a significant percentage (15.6%) of were between 0-20 years old, requiring access to education and schooling while 75% were between 21-40 years old. Illiteracy was an important factor for 67.1 % of them, while 26.0% had primary education, 5.5 % had middle schooling, and only 1.4% had reached grade 10. The demographic center of gravity is still Punjabi (92.2%), however Hindi along with Urdu are the other two significant languages in Punjab (Table 1). Growing up as a northerner, I can attest to the following in Punjab:

In Punjab/Haryana area of northern Indian subcontinent Hindi, Urdu and Punjabi have been described as forming a language continuum. Hindi and Urdu are mutually comprehensible in the spoken form and Punjabi is a close sister-language. Differences between the languages for instance in terms of vocabulary and pronunciation, have been magnified for political and religious reasons, particularly since Pakistan became an independent Muslim majority state (Bradby, 2002, p.845).

In my study I look at whether these kinds of on-the-ground linguistic realities are reflected in language planning and policy at the Punjab State Education Board.

5.2. History of Punjabi language planning and policy

Under British rule, in undivided Punjab, 27.8% of the population was religiously Hindu, 13.25 were Sikh and 55.9% were Muslim (with Hindi, Punjabi and Urdu as their mother tongues respectively) (Hill et al, 2008). Urdu was the medium of instruction at the school level, the language of the courts and of administration along with English. However, as the Muslim separatist movement increased in momentum in the 30’s and 40’s, the Urdu language paradoxically declined in use in Punjab. Politically influenced, most Punjabi Muslims tended to learn only Urdu and English, while maintaining Shahmukhi (Punjabi written in Arabic script). In return, Hindus and Sikhs learned only Hindi, Gurmukhi Punjabi (written in the script of the Sikh holy books) and English, neglecting Urdu as a consequence. When Partition took place in 1947, more than half of Punjab was incorporated into the new nation of Pakistan, and the vast majority of the Muslim population moved with it. This set the scene for all subsequent developments with respect to language in the remaining Indian state of Punjab.

After Independence, religious leaders in Punjab commenced their demands for a linguistically homogeneous Punjabi state, affiliating their demands with Sikh identity, religious particularism and promotion the Gurmukhi script. This religious identification

87 and affiliation impelled large sections of the Hindu community in Punjab to reject Punjabi and to declare Hindi as their mother tongue. Census language returns were suddenly affected by the widening gap between identification of Punjabi language as a cultural language and a religious one. The move by Hindi-speaking Hindu religious groups to divest themselves of the Punjabi vernacular by linking Hindi with Sanskrit rather than Punjabi followed. With the coming into force of the Constitution of India in 1950, most of the existing states moved to adopt a regional majority language as their official language. Punjab, however, found itself unable to do so, thanks to the influence of its large Hindi speaking minority. Brass (2005) writes that for ten plus years (1955-1966), Sikh leaders (mainly from the Akali Dal political party) pushed for linguistic boundaries for Punjab so that Punjabi language and identity could be officially preserved. Language politics hit a language bump and the linguistic groups became embroiled in identity politics (Brass, 2005).

It is interesting to note that in 1911 enumerators asked the question: what language is ordinarily spoken in the household, with the following results in Punjab: 1,670,022 Hindi speaking, 7,682,186 Punjabi speaking, 322,495 said they were Urdu speakers. In 1921 the enumerators asked what language was ordinarily used and the numbers changed significantly for Urdu speakers: 1,641,268 Hindi speakers, 7,990,863 Punjabi speakers and 1,221,885 Urdu speakers. From 1931-1961 the census simply asked for mother tongue and uniquely it reported all of the state as Punjabi speaking at 8,418,240 – conflating everyone into one language group (just as the Punjab Sikhs had always suggested). In 1951 the census enumerators had reported that due to the language debate fanning communal passions, it had decided to show Hindi, Urdu and Punjabi as one group numbering 15,858,835. In 1961 for the very first time self-declared Punjabi speakers became a minority in their own state, with Hindus identifying Hindi with Hinduism and Punjabi with the Sikh religion and not as cultural languages. In 1961 a total of 11,298,855 persons recorded themselves as Hindi speakers, Punjabi speakers numbered 8,343,264; and Urdu speakers were a mere 255,660 (Brass, 2005).

In his analysis of the political and socio-religious leanings in reporting mother tongue Brass (2005) states:

The Hindi movement over time has succeeded in absorbing millions of speakers not only of mother tongues generally considered to be regional dialects of Hindi, but of mother tongues generally considered to constitute

88 grammatically distinct languages… The regional languages of the north have been able to survive against the inroads of Hindi only where they have been useful as symbols in the struggles of minority people, such as Muslims and Sikhs, whose demands have not been primarily linguistic (p.297).

During this period of struggle over language and identity, various bilingual policies were introduced. The Sachar Formula of 1949 enforced bilingualism in schools within demarcated areas; Punjabi in Gurmukhi script was to be the MOI in Punjabi speaking areas and Hindi in Devanagari scrip in Hindi speaking areas, with both adding the other language in later primary years. Its unique feature was the freedom for parents to demand their choice of language if numbers could be shown to justify it. The Patiala and East Punjab States Union (PEPSU) Formula similarly affected the region of Patiala and East Punjab, a state which existed from 1948 to 1956 before being folded into Punjab proper, though with no opt out for parents. The Regional Formula established two regional linguistic committees in the Legislature to monitor the implementation of these policies (Brass, 2005).

Such solutions did little, however, to defuse the conflict between Hindus and Sikhs. The Hindu influenced Arya Samaj demanded that Hindi be given special status as a national language, claiming that Hindus were, “constitutionally entitled to receive their education through the medium of their mother tongue from the first class in both public and privately managed schools” (Brass, 2005, p.342), while the Sikh influenced Akali Dal had an “ultimate goal of a Sikh-dominated political unit” (Brass, 2005, p. 341). After much conflict a tentative solution emerged after the 1957 state elections when the Congress party headed a coalition in the state legislature. It proposed a Punjab Language Act of 1960 to help solve the Hindi-Punjabi language rivalry by delineating two separate linguistic regions for Punjabi and Hindi in the state. Students would learn the language assigned to their region as the MOI of elementary education and then learn the other language at the secondary stage.

Figure 2. Bifurcation of Punjab Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Punjab_1951-66.svg

As it turned out, though, this was just one more step on the road to a second partition of Punjab. In keeping with India’s evolving philosophy about carving up the country on linguistic boundaries, an Act of Parliament amended the Constitution of India by enacting the Punjab Reorganization Act of 1966 and creating two more states. One was Himachal Pradesh (previously a union territory) under the Act’s Section 5(1) and the other was Haryana, formed under Section 3(1) effectively removing Hindu majority districts from Punjab and leaving Punjabis as a majority language within its own state, with Punjabi (written in Gurmukhi script) taking its place as the official language of the state of Punjab even as it maintained its position on the scheduled languages list of India as per the VIIIth schedule (Singh, 2016). This new state of affairs was enshrined in the new Punjab Official Languages Act, 1967, which was further revised in 2008, to mirror the federal TLF. Now all three languages (Punjabi, Hindi and English) were present, with the MOI designated as Punjabi in government schools; private schools could choose the medium but were required to include the other two languages as subjects (Brass, 2005).

Punjabi sensibilities had been sorely tested by the colonists who had instituted Urdu as the official language/vernacular of Punjab at the time of annexation of the province in 1849, driven by the simple logic of standardization (Rahman, 2007). Urdu was being inculcated as the language of employees of the Raj in the north and thus “they could easily be deployed in the newly acquired territory of Punjab if it were instituted as the language of the state” (Ayers, 2008, p. 922). The colonists had viewed Punjabi no more than a “patois”, which did not help matters, succeeding in alienating

90 Punjabis from their rightful ethnic, linguistic and religious identity and weakening their case for language rights post-independence (Jalal, 2000).

Informed by a century of political, social and linguistic oppression and conflict, and the chances provided by an independent India, Punjab’s Official Language Act, 1967 put to rest any ambiguity or further linguistic encroachment, and clearly laid out Punjabi as the official language of the new, smaller state. The Act (see Appendix B) enshrined the legal basis: “to provide for adoption of Punjabi as the language to be used for all or any of the official purposes of the State of Punjab” in the Gurmukhi script. Significant is the adoption of the Gurmukhi script, putting to rest the Devanagari debate. Not only was the Gurmukhi version of Punjabi claimed as the language of communication, it also carried with it the important acknowledgement of history, religion, culture, ritual and memory (Mitra, 2002). The Act also accepted the role of English in the state legislature and the role of the State authorities in the development of Hindi as a language, ensuring a lawfully condoned secondary position of the two languages. This concession to political and linguistic realities was, however, minimal. The clear, overriding purpose of the Act was to enshrine Punjabi as the dominant state language.

In a certain sense, then, the newly delimited state was turning its back on the complex linguistic debates in India since the early 1920’s and positioning itself politically as a monolingual state, or at least a state where one language clearly held centre stage. The fact that Hindi and Urdu had been part of diverse linguistic communities in Punjab since time immemorial was not acknowledged in POLA; Urdu was not even mentioned, and the expressed commitment to “developing” Hindi almost appears to suggest its tentative position and to discount the benefit to the state of a well-developed literary and business language. The enduring legacy of Partition may have influenced the absolute elimination of Urdu from the official sections within the Act, as well as a desire to curb Hindi’s hegemony in northern India.

In a small move, the Act did give the right of anyone to represent themselves in any of the languages of the State for the purposes of redress in the courts. This however would change forty-one years later, when in 2008 the Act was amended to require that the work of the judiciary, along with public sector undertakings like schools, colleges and universities, was henceforth to be conducted only in Punjabi, further solidifying the political position of a monolingual state. Investment in infrastructure and training was to

91 be undertaken by the State to ensure effective compliance of language dominance (especially in the Courts). The significance of Punjabi as the official language of the judiciary cannot be overstated, as it now provided the State with control over the language in which the law is developed, read and enacted and its effect on Punjabis and the country (Appendix B). The effect of the POLA on political and cultural discourse in Punjabi society is huge; in essence, the Act is the legal expression of a vision for Punjabi society based on an assumed shared linguistic identity, notwithstanding the inequities present. Punjabi is the vernacular through which the State lays claim to the allegiance of its people.

5.3. Punjab School Board of Education

As a linguistically bounded area, for more than fifty years, Punjab has been a state dominated by a single major language as the MOI in the public sector. Yet the complexities of Indian society and politics, as outlined in chapter 3, make the situation much less simple than it appears. For this reason, my fieldwork in Punjab focused on understanding in greater detail how language policy is organized and implemented within the education system, a set of “relatively delimited networks of social practice” (Fairclough, 2003, p. 66) suited to critical discourse analysis. The public education system furnishes “the social problem which has a semiotic aspect” at the center of the analysis (p.125.) Going beyond the straightforward prescription of POLA 2008, an examination of planning and policy directives in public schools of Punjab, along with the organization of the school system and the flow of policy directives through the hierarchy, yields rich material for analysis ‘utilizing Fairclough’s framework’s steps 1 and 2 (2001; see Chapter 4). The analysis takes into account the network, the ensuing relationships, the order of the discourse, its interaction(s), the mix of genres, discourses and styles, intertextuality and the signification of the texts.

Because I have said little so far about the education system in India, I will briefly sketch the overall context. India possesses a massive school educational system with 1,467,680 schools in total, out of which 1,072,836 are government mandated, 349,412 are privately owned and operated, and 45,432 are affiliated to religious institutions (UDISE, 2016-17 figures). Total student enrollment is a staggering 189,887,015 with 111,310,953 students attending government schools. Such diversity of populations over

92 a large linguistically rich country poses its own set of inquiries and challenges with respect to learning, resources, and access to education.

In Punjab in 2016-17, out of 28,717 schools, 20,524 were government schools managed by the Punjab School Board of Education and almost completely subsidized by government, and there were 7,339 private schools. Total students enrolled were 3,894,228, out of which 2,006,389 attended government schools with 134,364 teachers, compared to 1,720,848 students in private schools with 112,986 teachers. The ratio of student to teacher is lesser in the private schools where funding is not based on a government budget but rather on what the families can pay, and exorbitant fees are charged by the schools for a private education for those that can afford it (UDISE, 2016- 17). In a 2007 study on private and public schools in rural India, the authors found that, “Private-school teacher salaries are typically one-fifth the salary of regular public-school teachers (and are often as low as one-tenth of these salaries). This enables the private schools to hire more teachers, have lower pupil teacher ratios, and reduce multi-grade teaching. Private school teachers are significantly younger and more likely to be from the same area as their counterparts in the public schools” (Muralidharan & Kremer, 2007, p.2). The same study also found that the more prosperous states like Punjab and Haryana have the highest incidences of private schools in the country. Even though these schools pay lower salaries and administrators expect less stringent credentialing for their teachers, “two of the major attractions of private schools are the fact that they start teaching English earlier (MOI) and that there is more teaching activity in the schools” (p. 12). These two factors alone provide the incentive for parents who have the money to bypass public education and flock to elitist schools that cater to their particularly privileged motivations of success and upward mobility for their children.

To support such disparity of needs and desires, there are three Boards of Education in Punjab – the central government mandated Central Board of Education that supports any and all types of schools across the country (private, military funded, religiously affiliated etc.), the state managed Punjab School Education Board for government schools only, with strict Punjabi MOI, and the Council for Indian School Certification, established only for private schools across the country (English MOI). The schools that affiliate to each of the three Boards enroll students that come from different socio-economic positions in Indian society. The complex relationships between people in Punjab (or anywhere) are thus further exacerbated when issues of solidarity, status and

93 power come to play in the education realm. Some of these issues are related to language in schools, in particular access to a language, English, that is deemed to have a higher level of power and thereby to enhance students’ future life outcomes.

In this study, I focused on the Punjab School Education Board (PSEB), which is the advisory body to the state Government in regards to anything to do with public school education in the state. It has three major responsibilities: to set the curriculum and courses of study for all government schools; to set public exams at the school level; and to bring about qualitative improvements in school education (PSEB Act, 2005). The Board is staffed with various departments and policy actors who are hierarchically placed in a highly bureaucratized system of administration. My goal was to understand how language-in-education policy is implemented within a top down model that is well entrenched in India as a bureaucratic policymaking system. Of particular interest to me, within a critical discourse/critical theory framework, was to understand how linguistic power is exercised within the system. As Singh (2014) observed in her study on democratic spaces in policy making:

Public policy is about government action to address public issues. A dominant tendency has been to treat crafting of public policy as a technical function of government—a top-down approach and rational choice based on available data and information. But it is increasingly also being seen as a matter of power and politics, involving contestation, negotiations, bargaining and accommodation of diverse interests and actors. For far from being a single and a onetime act, public policymaking is an interactive and dynamic process that involves a gamut of actions and inactions by many groups, with varied interests, at varied stages in a network, through whom decisions flow, policy agendas get set, policies get shaped, programmes are formulated, implemented and evaluated (p.2).

My first task was to get to know how the system works. The organizational chart below outlines the administration of the public-school education system in Punjab. The overall political direction is vested in the Education Minister, who relies on the Secretary of School Education and the Director-General of School Education (DGSE) as the one and two number top bureaucrats. Under the DGSE there is one Director of Public Instruction (DPI) and one State Project Director (SPD), while each of the 22 districts in Punjab has a District Education Officer (DEO) and a number of Block Primary Education Officers (BPEO). The BPEOs in a given district work with numerous Block Resource Persons (BRP) and District Resource Persons (DRP), who are responsible for providing the appropriately assigned textbooks to the schools (see below).

94 Table 2. Punjab School Board of Education Policy Division org. chart

Secretary School Education, Ministry of Education

Director General School Education

Cluster Master Block Master Director Public State Project Teacher Teacher Instruction Director

District Education Officer

District Resource Block Primary Block Resource Person Education Officer Person

Cluster Head Teachers

Teachers

School teachers are at the front lines of the education system, with each elementary teacher teaching all subjects to one individual class (made up of up to 60 students), while senior secondary teachers teach as subject experts. The PSEB teachers report to the Cluster Head Teachers (CHTs) who have about 5-15 schools (either elementary or secondary) under them that they regularly visit in order to implement directives that have been initiated from the PSEB. The CHTs prepare reports to the BPEO who sends these reports to the DEO who in turn reports the information to the DPI and through him to the DGSE.

The DPI invokes directives for training and evaluations of teachers on a regular basis. Circulars sent out to the districts are issued by the DEO through the Block Primary Education Officer to the BRPs and DRPs; these policy actors provide a direct link to the Cluster Head Teachers, whose task is to ensure that directives reach the classroom

95 teacher in a timely, efficient and effective manner. Directives include syllabus changes, language exam scheduling, posting model exams, upgrading of certification and accreditation, etc.

In a nutshell, role of BRC/CRC is a mixed set of academic, supervisory, managerial, networking and creative activities; it goes beyond routine monitoring and supervision work as it encompasses providing support to schools and teachers through teacher training and teacher mentoring for their professional growth, strengthening community school linkage, providing resource support and carrying out action research (Tara, Kumar and Ramaswamy, 2010, p.2).

The DGSE also maintains a direct relationship with a number of Cluster Master Teachers (CMT) and Block Master Trainers (BMT). These are directed to provide teacher training on pedagogical methods under the government policy of Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab (study Punjab, teach Punjab - a learning enhancement program). Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab is an extension of Parho Bharat Baraho Bharat (study India, grow India) – a Government of India initiative that promotes the study of the country, its languages and through that aims for the growth of the country and its people (Kainth, 2006, Das, 2007). As reviewed later, Parho Punjab is a central element of DGSE’s department-wide policy that plays a critical role in the interpretation and implementation of the TLF in Punjab.

Punjab state school teachers attend mandatory training at the State Council of Educational Research and Training (SCERT), whose mandate is to bring about qualitative improvement in school education by conducting research and developing study materials related to teacher training under the Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan (SSA, Education for all) mandate from the Government of India. Along with Parho Punjab, this is the second overarching policy framework that impacts all public education in Punjab. SSA directs all states to ensure universal, free and compulsory education for all elementary schools’ children as a fundamental right (Kainth, 2006, Das, 2007); its specific goals were set in 2001 to include:

(i) all children in school by 2003, (ii) all children complete five years of primary schooling by 2007; (iii) all children complete eight years of elementary schooling by 2010; (iv) focus on elementary education of satisfactory quality with emphasis on education for life; (v) bridge all gender and social category gaps at the primary stage by 2007 and at the elementary stage by 2010; and (vi) universal retention by 2010 (Das, 2007, p, 21).

96 In Punjab, SSA is implemented by way of the Right to Education Act 2011 (RTE). Among other measures in support of RTE, the State provides free education to girls, a uniform allowance, mid-day meals, furniture in classrooms, and scholarships to economically deprived children in government schools. While RTE requires that every child have access to education, there are many economically deprived families who do not send children to school for various reasons, regardless of incentives that are available to them. Overall progress on the goals of SSA is monitored by the National University of Educational Planning and Administration through the Educational Management Information System (EMIS) and the District Information System for Education (DISE). Drawing on these databases, the National University reported that elementary school enrollments increased substantially from 168 million in 2005-06 to 186 million in 2008-09 (Hussain, Khan & Khan, 2018). However, even with these staggering numbers (see 2016-17 numbers above), according to the evaluation report of the SSA by the Planning Commission (2010), it states that “universal access has not been achieved due to formation of new habitations over time, non-availability of land (forest areas, delays in construction, procedural delays and lack of community involvement”” (p. iv). DISE’s 2017 report based on the 2011 Census data indicates that only 12.7% of all schools in India are able to comply with all 10 RTE parameters (U- DISE, 2017).

In Punjab, as in other states, the SSA directs the establishment and maintenance of Village Education Committees coordinated by Block Resource Centres (SSA Framework for Implementation Section II, 2008). The purpose of this devolved structure is to support community partnership in local school management, curriculum implementation, student attendance and academic learning, infrastructure and financial matters of school districts, Thus the BRP’s and DRP’s in each region in Punjab work with the Sarv Sikhiya Vikas Committee (SSVC – School Management Committee) and the Pendu Sikhiya Vikas Committee (PSVC- Village Progress Education Committee) which are duly constituted by the DGSE in the urban and rural areas respectively. Each Committee consists of two village/town leaders (from the fourth level of government – the Panchayat), two Parent Teacher Association (PTA) members, one retired military officer, one retired teacher and one person from a charity. The Committee takes decisions on infrastructure projects and the upgrading of facilities and student services, but are silent on curriculum or syllabus, with no power or agency to impact change in

97 that arena, however small or large, far removed from any policy machinery. The regulations governing the Committees are directed, monitored and supported by state officials at Block Resource Centres (BRC) and Central Resource Centres (CRC) in the region, which are hierarchically bound to District Education Officers who have enormous amounts of clout. There are 125 BRCs and 1499 CRCs in the state of Punjab (Tara, Kumar & Ramaswamy, 2010).

In a federal study of 14 states (including Punjab) commissioned by the Ministry of Human Resource Development (Tara, Kumar & Ramaswamy, 2010), on the effectiveness of BRCs and CRCs in providing academic support to schools, the authors suggest that there is considerable variation in both how they function and their performance. Common problems include the lack of subject specialist teachers, parents’ lack of interest in the education of their children, migratory populations’ lack of community mobilization, poor monitoring by SSA staff and inadequate training programmes for teachers. The authors recommend more visits by functionaries of the CRCs to the schools, but also note that “their approach is more official and authoritative and not conducive to problem solving” (p. 46). They also advocate better academic support for teachers, in particular in Punjab. Perhaps most crucially, the “training received by Village Education Committee members was woefully inadequate and practically absent in many cases” (p.v). This is due to the under-resourced nature of the Block Resource Centres, which the report identifies as the weakest link in the organizational structure of the SSA:

The District Project Coordinators were of the view that the BRCs were overloaded with administrative work, had inadequate infrastructure and were burdened with the jobs of conducting too many training programmes. They had insufficient official power and suffered from lack of recognition for good work (p.v).

The main evaluation report on SSA (Srinavasan, 2010) echoes Tara et al.’s findings on community support and accountability, “Staff constraints, poor infrastructure, a tight budget for contingency funds and the distance from the school’s results in weak linkages, monitoring and supervision” (p, 51). Overall, Hussain, Khan and Khan ((2018) suggest in their review that, “the states may have insufficient supervision structure or weak capacity to implement a program at the scale of SSA. It is important to note that Student Classroom Ratio (SCR) is also among the highest in some of the States due to a gap in infrastructure” (p. 79).

98 5.4. Impact of language planning and policy discourse at the PSEB

I studied the process of policy making and implementation in PSEB by focusing on the body of 180 policy directives published in 2018, along with two more directives from 2017 and 2019 that illustrate specific aspects of the policy system (Appendix E). These policy directives originate with four key institutional players in the policy hierarchy: The Director of Public Instruction (DPI), the State Project Director (SPD), the Director of the State Council of Educational Research and Training (SCERT) and the Department of Technical Education and Industrial Training (DTEIT). I will clarify the roles of each of these before turning to an analysis of the language policy discourse that contributes to informing and shaping the interventions of the system in the operation of government schools in Punjab.

The DPI Department’s official role is to ensure that the systems of instruction, access to instructional resources, enrollment, admissions, and recruitment are correctly implemented and that facilities provided to students are properly administered (like the mid-day meals, potable water, scholarships, uniforms, books etc.). In my visits to the PSEB offices, it was interesting to note (in terms of transparency and the public interest) that almost daily e-circulars are sent out by the DPI office on various policy/management directives to downstream policy actors and public school administrators – both through direct email and also posted on the PSEB electronic portals (SSA Punjab, n.d.). Regular circulars ranging from salary allocations to grievance decisions are also posted on the website and specific ones related to public policy are included in the same manner (SSA, 2019).

Because these schemes are funded by the Government of India’s Ministry of Human Resource Development (MHRD), the PSEB is accountable through the state legislature and upward to the Government of India (Ministry of Human Resource Development). Above the DPI, a key monitoring and policy-making role is played by the Director General School Education, who is responsible to the top bureaucrat in Education, the Secretary School Education (SSE). In parallel to the DPI policy stream, the State Project Director (SPD) works to implement DGSE directives down to the DEOs, including the timeliness of funds flowing to the different levels of the public schools, approving preparation of work plans for the BPEO, BRPs and DRPs and any

99 associated problems with monitoring and supervision of the MOI. The Block Primary Education Officers (BPEOs) coordinate the work of the functionaries both at the block and district level and directly administer Cluster Head Teachers by providing support, monitoring and supervision of their activities and reporting to the DEO through a system of evaluations. In this manner, district level organizations play a critical role in managing policy directives as important intermediaries, without allowing any lower level or outside agency or person to interfere or have influence. In Punjab there are 22 districts called administrative geographical units within which public schools are managed by the Ministry of Education.

The SCERT is a third important policy-making body. Implementing SCERT directives is mandatory for the 83 institutions (teacher training colleges) affiliated with the District Institute of Education and Training (DIET). Besides developing the curriculum for teacher training, SCERT’s mandate is to provide research support for the State curriculum framework, age appropriate syllabus, revision of text books and evaluations at the elementary level. DIET affiliated colleges in the various districts are set up by SCERT to provide teacher training by implementing SCERT training programs. Syllabus divisions at SCERT in Mohali are some of the most powerful agents for language education, with direct influence over what teachers teach in classrooms and how they teach it. Finally, the Department of Technical Education and Industrial Training (DTEIT) provides academic oversight to industrial and technical training institutions in Punjab (vocational training).

Over a period of eight months I spent time studying 182 policy directives (circulars) issued by the PSEB. The areas covered and directions given by these policies were extremely varied and diverse – both in terms of content and target audiences. Firstly, almost exclusively the directives were written in Punjabi with a few smatterings of English words or legal findings in English that were verbatim from the courts. None of the circulars were in Hindi and the language was non-existent in all the policies that I studied. Out of the 182 circulars I further analyzed 21 of the directives that directly informed the language policy intent of the POLA and the TLF (Appendix E- marked with astericks).

100 To illustrate the analytical process, I have reproduced the translated text of one directive (#146) and shown how I go about interpreting its role within the policy discourse of PSEB. The circular is also attached in Appendix F in the original Punjabi text.

Fairclough’s (2001) framework’s step 3 (chapter 4) provides a guide to analyzing the social order of language planning and policy and whether “the ideology behind the language policy contribute to sustaining particular relations of power and domination” (p.126). Does the powerful position of policy makers ensure that the political need to achieve consent in the education arena is ensured through compliance processes that are embedded in the institution, maintaining status quo and policy domination?

5.4.1. Circular # 146, Implementation of Parho Punjab, Paraho Punjab Project in Schools, 04/15/.2018

The following is a translated version of Circular #14 (for Punjabi version see Appendix F)

Office of the Director, Ministry of Education, Punjab, At Punjab School Sikhya Board Complex Phase 8, S.A.S. Nagar To Via Website All District Education Officers All Principals, District Centres and Education Committees All Block Primary Resource Persons Punjab

Memo No: - 10/211-2017, Spr (2)/489-91 Dated: SAS Nagar; 13-4-2018 RE: Implementing Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab Project in schools

1.0 Please take the trouble to read the notice below. 2.0 As you are aware the Punjab Government through its jurisdiction has asked that all public primary schools in order to improve their learning capacity will run the Parho Punjab, Paraho Punjab Project, The Parho Punjab, Paraho Punjab Project has been a part of the budget speech. The Parho Punjab, Paraho Punjab Project benefits children’s primary education on these foundational levels (listening, speaking, reading, writing and comprehension) and grammar (recognition of numbers, multiplication, addition, subtraction and division) through which much improvement will occur.

101 3.0 It is our belief that at the least, through this project’s learning outcomes, and if the true effects of schooling are to be experienced, the foundations of a student’s education will strengthen. Any child that can at the least fulfill this goal, then attaching them to higher learning through the texts can help them reach higher goals. This exactly is the wish and desire of the Parho Punjab, Paraho Punjab project. 4.0 District coordinators/B.M.T. (Block Master Trainers)/ C.M.T. (Cluster Master Trainers) are working in a government capacity to improve children’s learning through the Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab project. Through the school visit, they will write/enter their estimations of improvements they have observed in the school record/visitor book. It has come to the attention of our office that some school Principals/teachers are not assisting the B.M.T. and C.M.T.’s by not making the record/visitor book available to them which creates barriers to the Punjab Government initiated program and is against the rules of the Government. 5.0 All District Education Officers, DIET Principals, associated Block Primary Resource Persons are told in writing that if the School Principal/teachers create barriers in the implementation of Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab or do not provide assistance to the B.M.T’s/C.M.T.’s with the record/visitor book then at once, according to the rules of the Department, an investigation will be held and a report of the findings will be forwarded to the Head Office.

Signed: Director Ministry of Education (A.C.), Punjab. Date: SAS Nagar: 13/4/2018 C.C. This notice is sent by copy to the following: 1. P.A. to Secretary School Education, Punjab. 2. P.A. to Director General School Education, Punjab. 3. Director SCERT, Punjab.

The following analysis is organized according to the layout of the Circular.

Heading: Circular 146 is sent by the Director of the Ministry of Education (DPI) to all District Officers, all Principals, all District Learning Centres and their Education Committees, as well as all Block Primary Resource Persons. It is obvious that the directive refers to the implementation of a Government of Punjab initiative whose goal is for students to learn about Punjab and for teachers to teach Punjabi. This establishes a frame of reference that invokes both a quasi-nationalist understanding of “Punjab” as a political and cultural identity and a sense of the government’s democratic legitimacy. It

102 also makes it clear that recipients are intended to interpret the circular according to their roles within the policy apparatus rather than as independent agents.

Paragraph 1.0: The phrasing in the single sentence of this paragraph clearly establishes the power relation between the source of the text and the recipients. It conveys that the issuing Ministry official has the right to “trouble” the recipients – that the contents are not to be ignored, even if the recipient should wish to.

Paragraph 2.0: Building on Paragraph 1, this paragraph reaffirms that the policy has the full force of the Government behind it, emphasizing its inclusion in the State of Punjab’s budget speech. This opening is clearly aimed at establishing the reality, weight and importance of the policy as a political entity. Subsequently, the paragraph focuses on portraying the goals of PPPP as self-evidently beneficial: none of the officials being addressed is likely to deny the value of improvements in foundational skills related to learning (listening, speaking, reading, writing and comprehension) and arithmetic (number recognition, multiplication, addition, subtraction and division). Discursively, the purpose of this paragraph is to render the policy beyond critique on either political or educational grounds.

Paragraph 3.0: Ostensibly, this paragraph is designed to further strengthen the claims for the educational value of the policy. In articulating a strategic ideological discourse that connects “the foundations of a student’s education” with “attaching them to higher learning … [to] reach higher goals,” the Ministry appears simply to be asserting the integrated nature of the school system. However, in light of the dominant role of English in “higher learning,” the intent may also be to push back on doubts as to whether the policy’s focus on teaching Punjabi is in conflict with students’ long-term aspirations. The message is that there is no conflict, just as Paragraph 2 emphasizes that the goals of the political and educational systems are in perfect alignment. The final phrase, “This is exactly the wish and desire of the Parho Punjab, Paraho Punjab Project,” reinforces this message of an intrinsic, consensual harmony around the policy.

Paragraph 4.0: Only in this paragraph does the reason for the Circular become clear. In contrast to the picture of unity and concord conveyed in the previous paragraphs, Paragraph 4 admits that some educators are actually circumventing the policy mechanisms intended for the implementation of PPPP. In particular, local school

103 administrators are hampering the ability of district-level officials to record their evaluations of the school’s efforts to implement the policy. The paragraph throws the government’s weight behind these district-level officials. In conjunction with the previous paragraphs, the Circular frames these school-level acts of resistance not only as contravention of the rules, but also as the disruption of harmony.

Paragraph 5.0: Building on the previous paragraph, the downstream policy actors (both school-level and district-level) are reminded that the Government has mechanisms of coercion and enforcement at its disposal to ensure policy implementation. The formal bureaucratic discourse of “rules,” “investigations” and “reports” reinforces the message established in the Heading and Paragraph 1 – namely, that officials within the hierarchy of the Punjab education system are not afforded the discretion of choosing which policies to implement and which to ignore. The Circular seeks to convey an image of a unitary, tightly controlled policy system that is the perfect servant of the consensual vision advanced by the political and education authorities.

Overall: Circular 146 serves as a good example of the overall ideological system that is manifested through the policy directives discourse. One general aim of the policy directives is to reinforce the hierarchical flow of authority from top Ministry officials down through district-level officials to schools. Another is to legitimize both the overall policy system and the specific educational policies in question. The discursive strategies deployed in Circular 146 are widely employed to encourage policy implementation buy- in, to empower and direct policy actors to implement the policy, and to provide for coercion and enforcement in the case of resistance. Invisible surveillance on the part of authorities like the Secretary School Education (SSE), the DGSE and the Director of SCERT, and overarching policy frameworks such as PPPP, SSA, and POLA, contribute to the image of a unitary, disciplined and rational State apparatus. The Punjabi language, both as used in the directives and occasionally referred to as an object of education policy, is clearly aligned with this image of the State.

I will now summarize the findings of my analysis of the rest of the corpus of policy directives referred to above and listed in Appendix E, focusing on those which offer greatest insight into the policy discourse pertaining to language.

104 5.4.2. Circular # 5, Model Test Paper Class 8th Science

This Circular is representative of a number of mock tests (called sample papers) uploaded for grade 8 and 10 practice of upcoming exams in math, political science, geography, and economics. All such tests are set in the Punjabi language (with the exception of the English and Hindi sample test). (Similar policy directives: # 5, 10,11,12,13,14, 16,17). It should be recalled that admissions tests for higher education in India are set in English, so this consistent use of Punjabi for secondary-level exams constitutes a significant element of Punjab language policy.

5.4.3. Circular #136, Regarding Punjab State Language Act, 2008, 5/9/2018

Within the given corpus of policy directives, Circular 136 most directly addresses the overall language policy of the State, referring directly to the Punjab State Language Act 2008 (I note that it is incorrectly identified). Originating with the State Secretary of the Ministry of Education’s Language Division, this policy directive in no uncertain terms informs all Heads of Ministries of the State, Division Commissioners, the High Courts, Civil Officers, District and Session Judges, and all crown corporations that Punjabi is the language of the State Government. The directive makes mention of both POLA 1967 and 2008 as the legal frameworks informing the policy.

The directive encourages the use of English as a complementary language and not as the primary language of the State. The directive employs ideology-driven discourse to naturalize/justify the use of Punjab as the language of the average population – a clear democratic/populist rationale and to revitalize English as a complimentary language.

Paragraph 2: The text makes clear the fact that Punjabi language must be in use by stating that “other than any communication with any other state or the Centre, according to the Punjab Official Act 2008 only Punjabi language is to be used, we are requiring Punjabi information be prepared for the website along with English that is being used now”.

As with Circular 146, this one is occasioned by issues of non-compliance. “It has come to our attention that the Punjab Government’s inclusive offices, Boards and

105 Corporation’s maintain only English language websites, due to which the average population of Punjab is bereft of information about different schemes managed by government departments. These schemes developed by the State Government have been created only for the benefit of the average population.”

The high social order of the missive ensures compliance to the ideology of the State, and although policy actors know that the forces encouraging the publication of information in English are not going away, the work to delegitimize the use of English and legitimize the use of Punjabi for such purposes Circular #136, Regarding Punjab State Language Act, 2008, 5/9/2018).

5.4.4. Circular #71, Implementation of Buddy Group System in Schools, 12/10/2018

Circular 71, from the Director of SCERT, sheds light on an interesting aspect of the Parho Punjab/Paraho Punjab project. In an effort to maintain interest and to strengthen Punjabi language learning, teachers and officers in the education system are exhorted to discourage the use of English in the classroom. The directive encourages teachers to take note of the focus of the initiative, which is to prepare students for annual exams, acquire better grades and to be placed in merit lists for Punjabi learning through a peer learning process. The directive states, “In order to implement the mandate of the Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab Project in its pure form and to follow the learning outcomes, students are encouraged to take part in Peer Learning and create a feeling of collaboration and team work. As well, student are discouraged from speaking English in the program”.

I note that Hindi is not mentioned in the directive (to support peer learning), because it would be logical to assume that Hindi, not English, is the more commonly used language after Punjabi between students in the public-school system. It appears that policy actors in the Parho Punjab initiative are paying more attention to the threat of English than Hindi. While at the very same time, the public system is introducing English language instruction at an earlier stage (grade 1) than Hindi (grade 3), perhaps because it may be still considered a ‘foreign or alien” tongue in a state like Punjab, although all societal indications in India are that English is an Indian language too.

106 The social effects of discourse are evident in the use of words like “self- confidence” and “mental well-being” in relation to peer learning, and in so doing attributing causal effect of the policy on student’s holistic outcomes, positioning the students as social subjects. The document’s text includes the following, “students mental well-being and physical health through interest in sports is encouraged” and “students should take part in different competitions so that they gain self-confidence in themselves”.

5.4.5. Circular # 100, Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab meeting through Edusat, 08/20/2018; Circular #101, One day workshop on Punjabi subject under Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab Project, 16/08/2018

Circulars 100 and 101 are examples of regular directives sent to State Resource Centers to ensure training/orientation of teachers, including through the participation of subject language experts (Punjabi, English, Hindi). As Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab project’s implementation is rolled out, policy planners structure the texts to establish discourse that gives credence to policy actors’ positions of power and privilege. As shown earlier in the case of Circular 146, policy texts do not just reflect policy entities, they construct or constitute them (and the author) with power. In this manner the #101 policy directive states, “As you are aware, the State policy of Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab is being implemented in the primary schools. In order to implement it, the policy planner assigned to its implementation, the respected Director of SCERT requires the DRP’s, the BRP’s, the DIET Principals, the PPPP Coordinator and all CHT’s to meet at the EDUSAT offices on 21-08-2018 between 1:30 and 2:00 pm.” The circular goes on to direct CHT’s to implement the policy through school visits, together with BPEO’s, in order to meet with teachers/educators who will be responsible for the eventual implementation of the PPPP in the schools.

Here again we see the policy directive used as a tool for top down policy planning as it makes its way down to closer-to-the-ground policy actors. In Fairclough’s terms, a discursive event (the training) is framed by means of terms and concepts that reference power hierarchies and control. Words such as calling the State of Punjab the Raj (associated with ruler/ruling over – the British Raj, the Mughal Raj etc.), and the author of the policy calling himself the respected Director, contribute to endowing certain entities (the State, the policy actor) with special social status. As Fairclough (2001)

107 suggests, “Social actors within any practice produce representations of other practices, as well as (‘reflexive’) representations of their own practice, in the course of their activity within the practice...they produce different ‘performances’ of a particular position” (p. 123). Repeated over and over again in various ways within the corpus of policy directives, such discursive acts create an impression of solidity and permanence that helps maintain the ideological apparatus of the State.

5.4.6. SCERT Learning outcomes, 2017 related to Circular #144, Display of Learning Outcomes in classrooms, 4/17/2018

While policy actors play a key role in the furthering government policies, state education mandated agencies also play a critical role in furthering the goals of language planning and policy. One such example is the learning outcomes developed by SCERT under the slogan (translated from Punjabi): Consider Education, Improve Life chances. Of particular relevance for this study are the language learning outcomes for Punjabi (entry level), English (Grade 1) and Hindi (Grade 3) (SCERT 2017). In my analysis I evaluated inequities in the ways these languages are addressed within the discourse.

This SCERT document is different from the policy directives developed by PSEB policy actors who provide the day to day directions for lower level policy actors within the education system. The SCERT learning outcomes are formally designed by a team of curriculum designers such as the Associate Director, Academic and various subject experts. While in the text, Punjabi is continuously referred to as “first language” (paheli bhasha in Punjabi), while Hindi is coded as “second language” (doosri bhasha in Punjabi). These terms seem designed to assign to the languages their hierarchical placings in the curriculum. In this and other curricular texts, English gets mentioned but is not given any placing order (even though it is initiated in grade 1, before Hindi is introduced in grade 3). Instead, English is added to a long list of subjects like Math, Environment studies etc. with no special designation, belying the TLF where it is recognized as an official language of the country and accepted as the second language of the State.

The policy text bolsters its own authority and legitimacy by referencing the goals of the National Policy on Education 1986/1992, the Program of Action 1992 and the RTE 2009. The directive declares that a change in education has been initiated by a global

108 recognition that learning outcomes are beneficial for student learning, and that involvement of parents in understanding the outcomes is crucial to their success. In this manner, the policy creates a new complex discourse referencing a particular social condition that has not been present in India before (parental involvement in learning outcomes, even at first stage of awareness). There are clear connections here with discourses of global monitoring, of education for all, of accountability, of new learning landscapes, of new pedagogical domains, etc., so that Punjabi, Hindi and English, among other subjects, are implicitly positioned as part of the contemporary educational scene on a global scale.

Also noteworthy is how this framework acts as a staged discursive event designed to appeal to other stakeholders (parents, education committees in the region, the public at large) and position them as co-actors in the educational realm (drawing on discourses of relationship building, of collective effort, of information sharing, of knowledge-seeking inquiry). Under the signature of the Director the directive states, “It is our goal to ensure that in order that all government policies reach our students, that they are developed in an effective, influential and thoughtful manner.” This constitutes an interesting variation on the image developed in Circular 146, of a top-down educational hierarchy enacting a political-social consensus. Here, instead, the image is of a bottom- up effort in which the educational establishment engages the public in a collective enterprise of “education for all”. Of course, in both versions the policy apparatus of the Ministry is represented as benign and inclusive in its intents and purposes. The difference between these policy discourses may be more apparent than real (SCERT Learning outcomes, 2017).

5.4.7. Circular # 144, Display of Learning Outcomes in Classrooms, 04/17/2018

The strategic use of policy tools to reinforce the policy hierarchy is illustrated in another way in Circular 144. The directive takes its lead from the RTE Act 2009, asserting the value of language curriculum development for the collective use of children, teachers and parents. A set of learning outcomes is provided in Punjabi and attached to the directive for easy preview and utility. Quick access to the learning outcomes document is also assured by way of mobile, laptop and printed form as a PDF, indicating some thought being given to easy and effective access by all its stakeholders.

109 In the Circular, the policymaker (SCERT Director) directs the District Education Officer and the Head of each public school in Punjab to ensure appropriate copies of class- matched learning outcomes are available for posting/display on udaan classroom walls. District officials are also guided to be aware of the need for this transparency, access and information sharing. The directive in part pre-empts any attempt by lower level policy agents to undermine higher level authority in critical information sharing that it envisions can have circular impact – teacher to student to teacher to parent to student and so on. This kind of high-level directive goes a long way to ensure policy is not destabilized by other forces that are inferior to the larger authority.

5.4.8. Circular # 98, Improvement in vocabulary of students for Punjabi subject, 08/28/2018; Circular # 169, English subject competition under Parho Punjab, 2/3/2018

It became patently obvious as I studied the policy texts that Parho Punjab/Paraho Punjab (PPPP) is a central strategy for implementing the language policy mandate. Notably, policy actors at PSEB encourage an environmental approach to the acquisition of language, subject knowledge and Punjabi culture – that is, to see these aspects of learning as inherently linked within Punjabi-language schooling (# 98). Educators themselves are encouraged to utilize methods of instruction that include the language in all its manifestations from practical applied learning to academic study. The policy states, “As you know, under the auspices of the Education Department’s Parho Punjab, Paraho Punjab policy initiative, we are training teachers in order to increase Punjabi language growth and usage.” No such inclusive initiative (e.g. Hindi Parho or English Parho) is present for Hindi or English, as they are held at bay as subjects within the larger Punjabi MOI. The English assessment section of PPPP is also developed in Punjabi (e.g. any English words learned have to be explained in Punjabi by the student) (#169). Even when the social environment for the child is primarily Hindi or English oriented, the PPPP initiative promotes the beneficial linguistic ideology of Punjab with the Punjabi language. It is through the policy of Punjabi MOI that the PSEB is able to ensure Punjabi’s premier position and permanency in all subject/context matters.

As shown in earlier sections, these language acquisition directives are aligned with the official language policy of the State (POLA) for all public education. This highly formal and centralized form of policy implementation is carefully framed in the policy

110 discourse to ensure compliance by all in the system. Educators as policy implementers are cordoned into a very compartmentalized view of the policy machine, with no input sought from them in the design or content matter of the formal directives studied here. Invariably the PSEB directives start with this line (translated from Punjabi): “We trouble you to give your full attention to the matter listed below”, quickly followed by: “as you already are aware...” and signed off with phrases such as “all school administrator related teachers may take note” or “consider it of utmost importance”. The responsibility is squarely placed on the lower level policy actors and school administrators to follow centrally designed policy prescriptions – consultation is not designed in the structure in any way. I surmise that some feedback mechanism must be present for educators, but the texts do not give any indication of that process – another way of communicating, perhaps, that the system is complete and perfect as it stands.

5.4.9. Circular #19 – Admission in pre-primary classes 12/15/2018

In general, the Ministry’s policy directives have the effect of limiting the discretion of school-level personnel by specifying various aspects of their duties. Occasionally, however, they empower local educators, as in Circular 19 that seeks to encourage student enrollment in government schools. The Director of Public Instruction (DPI) directs the District Education Officers (DEO) as follows: “Section 8.0 -The Parho Punjab, Paraho Punjab (Primary) teams, on behalf of the State are instructed to work by providing support to focused schools in order to encourage enrolment, keeping in mind that the State has declared its full support for this policy related initiative.” (Translated from Punjabi). The Secretary of School Education (SSE) and the DGSE are both copied on the circular, indicating the commitment and strength of the directive. Ensuring close to home impact, distanced state policy actors lean on other state related local actors (like government child care center workers and the School Management Committee) whose engagement is encouraged in policy implementation processes. It should be noted, however, that the lack of consultative processes identified with respect to the previous circular applies to this one as well.

111 5.4.10. Circular #15 -Admission of Students in Govt. Schools, 12/17/2018

Somewhat similarly, a policy circular by the office of the DGSE (#15) directs the DEO, DIET Principals, BRP’s and DRP’s to take note that CMT’s and BMT’s will visit the schools to inform the School Management Committees, parents and Panchayat members (Panchayats are the fourth level of government in India), about State Government initiated schemes and policies related to [inserted in English] Smart Class rooms, E-content, English Medium, Free Education, Mid-Day-meals, Free Uniforms, Free Text Books, Scholarship schemes. In this directive, direct reporting is purposefully used in actual words: “The BRP and DRP’s shall provide a daily report to the Head Office on the following email [email protected]”. The use of English within Punjabi text is a norm that Indian English has taken as its rightful appropriation of the language. Schemes such as the ones above are formulated in English from the Centre and states adopt the schemes in English to ensure consistent use across the nation.

5.4.11. Circular #181 - Parent Teacher Meeting, 7/28/2017

In looking at who was missing from the language planning and policy system, I found few directives issued on direct involvement of parents (as the major stakeholders) in the language policy cycle. The one relevant directive I studied (#181) directed all schools to plan and hold timely and regular parent/teacher meetings (direction was included about the fixed time) so that teachers could inform parents about student successes and challenges. The DGSE office gave direction to the Heads of schools to coordinate this task, in consultation with the DRP’s who were exhorted to be present at these meetings and/or ensure the meetings were taking place. While it may seem very useful for such an exercise to regularly take place in the local schools of the PSEB, the need for a policy issuance by the high-level Director of SCERT indicates knowledge of a structural shortfall in school engagement with parents of children in the schools, especially in rural areas of Punjab, and this is borne out by the detailed wording of the directive.

The circular explicitly stated the following (translated from Punjabi): “In regards to this issue, the Ministry of Education has decided that the schools under the direction of

112 the ruling government (the Raj) must on the last day of every month provide opportunity to meet the parents. The meeting topics would include student progress, any challenges, and information for parents on government policies and schemes currently implemented in the schools.” Further, the circular especially points out the need for these meetings in rural parts of the state, foregrounding the lower level of engagement by parents in those areas who for various reasons may not be engaged in this formal manner in the public education system. What gives away the lack of formal engagement is the following line (translated from Punjabi): “To fully meet the intent of this directive, the Head of schools in rural Punjab may employ the use of a loudspeaker at the local Gurudwara (Sikh temple) to announce such meetings.”

There is an unacknowledged linguistic dimension to this policy directive. It can be easily assumed that the vernacular of the religion (Sikh/Punjabi) would be employed and brought to service for the purpose specified in the Gurdwara. Markedly absent is the requirement or encouragement to do the same at Mandirs (Hindu temples/Hindi) or Girjas (Christian churches/English) in their respective religiously coded languages. Here again, then, we see a built-in bias towards the use of the Punjabi language even in a matter that affects all children regardless of home language.

5.4.12. Circular # 40 – Punjab Transparency and Accountability in Delivery of Public Services Act 2018, 11/14/2018

In the one directive in the English language that came to my attention, the Government of Punjab included guidelines for the appellate authorities providing oversight to the Department of Education’s duties and responsibilities (# 40). The directive is set out by the Secretary to the Government of Punjab – who is the head of the entire government bureaucracy – and its inception is not in the PSEB - it is drafted within the Department of Education (Ministry).

The directive states; “In exercise of power conferred under section 3 (1) and 3 (2) of the Punjab Transparency and Accountability of Public Service Act, 2018 and all other power enabling in this behalf the Governor or Punjab is please to authorize the following Appellate Authority of the Department of School Education”. The highest bureaucratic authority – the Secretary School Education (SSE) holds all but one of the appellate authorities for the State. However, the SSE designates officers with the charge as

113 assigned e.g. publication of text books. The weight of the directive is evident in ensuring the notice reaches all the authorities in the PSEB in charge of school education. Since no directives from the PSEB that make up part of this study are in English, it would appear that the POLA 2008 is upheld in its intent with zeal and effort at the PSEB, but the State generally has no such constraint. There is a disconnect between agency and agent and semiosis as an integral element of the material processes. The legal system at the Centre functions primarily in English, however in the State, Punjabi is the language that the State is requiring for the business of the judiciary.

5.4.13. Circular # 42, Evaluation of pre-primary students, 11/10/2018

The Parho Punjab Project as a major initiative to implement Punjabi language in public education also is apparent in the move by Punjab Government to create a new route to initiate and implement the Project in Pre-Primary classrooms in the public- school systems is espoused. The work of the policy moves from language-in-education acquisition to learning the language through play for children between 3 and 6 years of age.

The policy directives inform all DEO’s that learning outcomes designed by the Ministry are to be fulfilled and that the reporting structure is through report cards that teachers must fill out through observation only. No formal testing is envisioned (no formal schooled learning of language) and teachers are encouraged to follow the government policy which is mentioned twice in the opening of the policy directive. The directive suggests the following: “The Government of Punjab is implementing early education pre-primary classes. The Ministry of Education shall prepare and provide leaning outcomes through which children will be encouraged to use play as the primary tool for learning.” This policy directive discourse indicates the weight that current policy makers are placing on early language acquisition, indicating a move towards changing theories on language acquisition.

5.4.14. Overall commentary on the policy directive corpus

A noticeable absence in the 182 texts studied is the English and Hindi languages. As previously noted, English is scarcely present in any of the PSEB policy

114 directives (a total of 21 mentions), and Hindi was completely absent (other than in Hindi syllabus Circulars # 147 and 173). The significant absence of both languages (and the discourse communities for whom they provide a voice) in language policy directives works to reproduce a State-sponsored hierarchy of linguistic political ideologies, social relations, mother language consciousness and cultural values (in favour of Punjabi). In my interpretation, this dimension of the policy texts reflects the hard fought for official status of the Punjabi language at the State level, along with its MOI status in the public education system. It is noteworthy that all Districts were included in the Punjabi language directives, even those that are in the Hindi-speaking or Urdu-speaking belts. I found no evidence of any retreat from or watering down of state language ideology giving Punjabi primacy; frequently the POLA 2008 and the RTE Act were cited as the background policy framework authorities for a given directive.

The circulars together paint a portrait of a sprawling system of PSEB-wide policy actors, both in the field (district offices/schools etc.) and at the PSEB Mohali state office. Directives from PSEB head office extoll the virtues of PPPP language training that is designed to require vigilance, monitoring and compliance by many officials in the field. Some directives go into the minutiae of monitoring by specifying the duties of field educators, such as requiring them to keep mobile phone numbers of all Heads of schools in their districts in order to record daily updates. The top heavy and highly bureaucratized nature of such policy directives reflects a policy machine that is managed by a small highly placed group of government actors. These actors come to the table with pre-set ideas as to what outcomes will best serve the State’s interests. Power and privilege are roundly present in the processes that produce these texts, and are manifested both in terms of the contours of the text (its design), the position of the author, the presence of other invisible interlocutors who hold power and prestige, and the words utilized to give meaning to the texts.

Punjab language planning and policy decisions were developed post- independence in Punjab by motivated ideology-driven politicians, and these were further centralized within a bureaucracy, leaving little room for autonomous action or agency by policy actors on the ground. The idea that “where you stand depends on where you sit” fits the bureaucratic politics model where the position of the actor defines in what manner (and by whom) the policies will be implemented. In choosing to analyze the directives developed by the central bureaucracy, I did bias the study towards a top-down

115 way of thinking about the policy system. At the same time, it seems fair to say that the bureaucratic set up of PSEB is well designed for high level direction and low level implementation, so to some extent the directives truly reflect the logic of the system. The limitations of this study unfortunately precluded me from examining the role, agency and power of lower-level administrators and local policy actors such as classroom teachers. I would like to suggest that whatever significant or limited influence over policy and practice that these actors can or do wield would be very interesting, but that is the purview of another study. This study stops here and does not go any further towards processes or outcomes of implementation.

The analysis of these education policy texts has provided a “window for exploring how old forms of socio-economic inequity get (re)produced and legitimated under changing institutional and cultural conditions” (Tollefson & Pérez-Milans, 2018, p. 729). It is important not to limit the analysis’s attention only to current forms of social inequality, but to be aware of their deep historical roots.

Blommaert’s (2010) ideas resonate with me in the Punjab context, when he suggests that, “every act of language is an act that is grounded in historical connections between current statements and prior ones ... connections that are related to the social order and are thus not random but ordered” (2010, p. 138). His summary of the value of critical discourse analysis, especially as a means of informing policy change, points to what I have been aiming for in this thesis:

Discourse analysis should result in a heightened awareness of hidden power dimensions and its effects: a critical language awareness, a sensitivity for discourse as subject to power and inequality. Language to CDA is never a neutral object, it is subject to assessment, value-attribution, and evaluation and consequently it is subject to deep cleavages, forms of in-and exclusion and of oppression. The emancipatory potential of work on such inequalities in and through language deserves emphasis (2005, p. 34).

Blommaert, however, is skeptical about the causal role of language in creating and maintaining inequality: “power relations are often predefined and then confirmed by features of discourse” (2005, p. 59). In order to combat this criticism, I have developed a multilayered approach and attempted to present India’s language planning and policy (as it relates to Punjab) in a manner that has been critically threaded historically, politically, culturally and communally through the recent and distant past, focusing on

116 “institutional environments as key sites of research into the connections between language, power and social processes” (Blommaert, 2005, p. 34). The local context of this study assists in understanding both the competing and complementary interests between state policy actors and language policies, and the complexity that surrounds how planner’s direct language users to (re)claim their personal right to mother tongue access. (Tollefson & Pérez-Milans, 2018; Hornberger, 2018; Hornberger, 2015; Canagarajah, 2005). Policy actors mediate the interpretation and application of language policies in Punjab government schools, allowing me to base my analysis “on the power of language policy as a mechanism of hegemony (through CDA) with an understanding of the power of language policy agents” (Johnson, 2018, p. 61).

5.5. Issues of language education in Punjab

In Section 5.2 I described how the Punjab Official Languages Act came to be adopted in 1967. Article 3 of the Act stated simply that the official language of the State of Punjab shall be Punjabi, and there were no other articles that made special reference to the education system (see Appendix B) The POLA 2008 amendment is an important administrative amendment, which adds greater precision to the scope of Article 3 and in Article 8 creates a monitoring structure to oversee the implementation of the Act. Relevant to education are the following clauses:

3-A. In all offices of the State Government, public sector undertakings, boards and local bodies and offices of the schools, colleges and universities of the State Government, all official correspondence shall be made in Punjabi.

8-A. The Director, Languages, Punjab or any of his officers authorized by him, may inspect any office of the State Government, public sector undertaking, board or corporation, and office of any school, college or university of the State government, to ensure the implementation of provisions of the sections 3 and 3-B of this Act. The office or official having custody of the records of the aforesaid offices, shall make such record available to the said Director of office for inspection.

Article 8-B of the 2008 POLA amendment establishes the State Level Empowered Committee which is chaired by the Minister of Education. The Secretaries to Government of both the Department of School Education and the Department of Higher Education are members of the Committee. The Director, Languages is the convener of

117 the Committee who reports directly to the Minister of Education and through him to the Legislature.

Because of the overall minority status of Punjabi in India, through the Punjab Official Languages Act policy planners are directed to ensure that the mother tongue is maintained not only as the MOI in schools, but also as the medium of all official communication regarding education (Punjabi is the sole language of communication at the PSEB). The POLA 2008 is interpreted so as to require that all school and education related documentation for the state (e.g. even signatures of teachers) must all be in Punjabi. Not only is everything communicated to schools in Punjabi, but directives are given to all schools that administrators and teachers must submit all their communication (reports etc.) in Punjabi only. I surmise that it makes sense at one level, but on another level, it seems draconian, given the multilingual nature of Indian Society. These kinds of tensions are inherently laden in a society when the MOI is Punjabi and the language permeates the infrastructure of the educational bodies that work to fulfill the MOI requirement, even while society all around functions in different communities of languages. The policy does not fully support social transformation and ignores language functions for all its students as well as the sociocultural realities of the society for which it is crafted.

Since Punjabi is the medium of instruction (MOI) in Punjab government elementary schools as per India’s Three Language Formula, the first language taught to any child is Punjabi; second in status is English, with Hindi as the third language chosen by the state; and fourth and fifth languages are added as needed in certain areas (like bordering towns to another state where the regional languages are important or towns with high Muslim populations like Malerkotla where Urdu is the third language). The PSEB is directed to promote Punjabi as the first language of instruction (MOI) in government schools as well as a language subject, followed closely by English in grade one and later by Hindi in grade three (as subjects only). No variations to this mandate are tolerated in the government school system; and all schools are to follow the rules as set above.

As a policy instrument of SSA, and implemented with the assistance of Pratham, a non-governmental literacy organization, Parho Punjab directs regular (monthly) tests for assessment of student knowledge for accurate level of placement in schools; SCERT

118 provides the relevant self-reporting assessment tool. As well, SCERT is directed to conduct seminars and training for teachers on how to promote the mother tongue through new instructional techniques and its further development. To facilitate this, the BRP and DRP work to develop a prescribed syllabus and text assignments which they undertake with the assistance of subject experts. Subject teachers from schools are assigned work at the PSEB offices to assist with syllabus design. While the syllabus originates with government authorities, the DPI sends inspectors into the schools to ensure that the syllabus is accessible and directs school officials that timely evaluation is expected. The DPI’s department is also responsible for producing study materials, which are consistently posted on Parho Punjab portals, and the DPI directs teacher training through SCERT for effective pedagogical practices that support Punjabi language learning.

English (as a subject) is offered in grade one in government schools across the state with a goal to increase English language access and utilization, while maintaining the Punjabi language’s primary position. Hindi is started in grade three – ensuring the official language and the language of commerce are both available to the students early within elementary education. Within this mix, however, there is a new and growing demand for English from villages in rural Punjab, because access to information has increased a hundredfold and in response the demand for English is growing at par with India’s economic growth (Meganathan, 2011). This demand is also fueled by an increase in personal wealth (and access to private schooling which favours English MOI), a need for access to quality education, and increasing access to global markets (both for production and consumption) (Dubey et al, 2009). The result is that English is now seen in Punjab as the language of future success for youthful future generations to be able to function in a competitive marketplace (for skills, jobs and goods like use of internet and cell phones). Scholars, who research LPP in developing nation contexts, suggest that English has taken on a highly privileged position in relation to other languages precisely because it is perceived to produce greater socio-economic advantages (Mohanty, 2017b, Hornberger & Vaish, 2009; Phillipson, 1998, 2001; Dua, 1994). While the POLA as a policy does not specifically prescribe acquisition of languages at certain grade levels, bureaucrats have created policy directives that fulfill schooling language demands by ensuring that Punjabi has primacy and English follows closely behind.

119 Enrollments continue to increase dramatically in government schools due to population growth. Private school numbers are up strongly as well, as India’s middle class grows at an exponential rate. While India’s demographic dividend will reap future rewards, today more than 50% of its 1.3 billion people are below the age of 25 and they will all be looking for work. According to statistics from 2014-15 there were 296 million students from grades IX – XII in senior secondary schools, only 34 million of whom went on to post-secondary education. The average dropout rate was greatest for boys and girls in secondary school (VII-X) at 17.93 and 17.79 respectively (Swarup, 2016). Like other regions of India, the State of Punjab is faced with a growing population base of young people with global demands and dreams, and while the Punjabi language MOI commitment is to be applauded, the pressures of globalization will surely ensure a policy rethink by bureaucrats and politicians alike.

As it is currently, all students (regardless of MOI) who enter the +2 grades of secondary schooling (two years of school after grade 10) in Punjab are suddenly faced with English as the medium of instruction in grade 11. This curriculum language shift has created a need for the PSEB to provide effective learning in English in the earlier grades to ensure continued success for the student. However, since all post-secondary entrance exams are held in English in Punjab, students with low levels of English invariably find it difficult to succeed in those tests. In 2016, the Minister of Education Mr. Daljit Singh Cheema suggested that national level competitive exams should be in the vernacular languages and pledged to have the syllabus translated into Punjabi for that to occur (Times of India, 2016).

As a prosperous agricultural economy that demands large numbers of manual labourers, Punjab attracts a significant migrant population of Hindi speaking workers from other neighbouring northern states of India – mainly the close by states of Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. For the children of these workers in rural Punjab that attend government schools, Punjabi is not their mother tongue, resulting in initial difficulties adjusting to Punjabi MOI. Extenuatingly, the State has directed that no student should fail a class until grade V and even if they come into the school from another state, they must be accepted in the same grade. Hindi and Punjabi are sister languages in that they have Sanskrit as the mother language while Punjabi as borrowed also from Farsi, Urdu, Prakrit and Pali. Generally Punjabi and Hindi languages as communities of practice exist side by side in Punjabi society, and teachers would almost all be fluent in both (Punjabi

120 language proficiency is a requirement), and thus, assisting Hindi speaking migrant children to learn Punjabi is not a difficult task. Some of the difficulty arises when the same children have limited learning participation from their parents who neither read nor write the language (and may in fact be illiterate) even though the parents may become orally fluent over time due to the environment and in the workplace.

India has a complicated reservation policy and related schemes where seats are reserved in all public institutions for those with disadvantages and who face systemic institutional discrimination. A list of Schedule Castes and Scheduled Tribes is maintained by the Centre delineating who belongs in the category (e.g. backward class (BC) in order for them to receive support. Punjab policy directives order schools to enforce the policy as a joint Centre and State funded program (Scheme), allowing access to public education by disadvantaged classes of student by providing cost-shared resources (#182). Further to the schooling of reserved categories of students, the PSEB is bound to follow similar hiring practices. A directive suggests, (translated from Punjabi), “Keeping mind the natural state of the world, we assure the meritorious applicants from the Reserved List that no discrimination/injustice has occurred, and as such the Department has made a decision that those applications from the Reserved Category List who were added to the General Category List in the Combined Merit Notice for now will be added to the Reserved list according to merit”. The preamble of the directive states that discrepancies were found in the development of the list and that once brought to the attending of the Board needed rectification by public notice due to a writ petition by the applicants. The socio-cultural inequities present within society and negatively affecting Ministry of Education policy guidelines include recognition of the fact that those with merit who came from the Reserved Category (Assamese, Hindi-speaking) were “somehow” added to the combined list (which included the advantaged applicants) and as such got short shifted in the process, since they had to compete with those who did not face the same disadvantage (no knowledge of Punjabi being one). Since the PSEB must maintain the Reservation Policy of the Government of India, it must find ways for the Punjabi language (merit) or lack thereof be weighed against the public good (Circular #182, Appointments of 244 Sikhya Providers, 5/15/2019)

While the social, moral and socio-religious aims of Punjabis to maintain Punjabi as the language of education in the public system is established via public policy, its ability to articulate its function as a state language desired by all is up for debate. If one

121 of the central claims of language policy is to sustain/enhance the linguistic base, and the political economy that comes with it, then Punjabi as a language has limited success as English has a stronger hold. Punjabi’s symbolic strength cannot just be understood as an articulation of its historical expression of function and form. The historical production of particular types of discourse is of course laden with a contemporary need for transformation – policy discourse in this instance is oriented towards language as a necessary component of meaningful learning. Does the practice however of Punjabi in the classroom as the MOI actively assist in creating relevant, personal experiences (meaning making) for students in the public system? The next section brings the social practice of the language into sharp relief.

5.6. Language ecology of Punjab

As introduced in Section 2.5, the concept of language ecology is useful for thinking about the complex systems of competing interests and language behaviours that uphold or challenge on a particular language policy framework, linking what ‘is’ to what it ‘ought’ to be. Steps 3 and 4 in Fairclough’s (2001) analytical framework help me consider whether the competing interests of minority and majority languages, domination by languages of power and languages of identity, create a challenging socio-linguistic ecological environment. Since Punjabi Sikhs are a national minority, their distinct history, heritage, linguistic and cultural identity does much to define Punjabi society. Deol (2008) states that, “The Punjabi-speaking Sikhs seemingly possess the classic ingredients of nationality formation: a geographical region, an arena of history and language linked to culture, and a religious ideology” (p.11). Thus, in Punjab, although language planning forms part of a larger national project, in some ways it is distinct from that of India. Post- independence, Congress’s ambition was always for Hindi to be the nationally unifying language, and all of Punjab’s northern neighboring provinces have Hindi-speaking majorities, impacting Punjab due to the flows of peoples, politics, goods and services. The immense linguistic power of Hindi in Punjab and in northern India as a whole poses problems for the maintenance of minority linguistic rights, especially in the light of cultural, religious and economic stratification. The resulting inequitable society has its own complex and multipronged response to issues and concerns of elitism, unequal opportunities, and poor resources, which does necessarily follow the tracks that language planners have laid down. But in the face of so much pressure, the PSEB

122 perseveres as an agent of the State to ensure public policy on Punjabi language as the MOI is maintained at the state level, even while ignoring the multivalent nature of a multilingually diverse society.

A key aspect of this is the way in which English has been appropriated and accommodated within existing socio-economic hierarchies (e.g. in private schools), further accentuating them. The discourse of language planning and policy in Punjab highlighted in this study shows how policy actors pay heed to how English has reached the level of recognition as a language of power and opportunity in India and continue to marginalize it in the public education system, keeping it at bay by including it as a subject but not as the MOI. It could be said that its role and position in the public system has steadily increased, but without the appropriately developed critical analysis in the public sphere of its dominant power to surpass and challenge minority languages. The lower socio-economic status of government school-going students provides them with limited access to English as a language of power and prestige since it may not be a language in the home even in a limited way. While the TLF has provided the foundation for state policy development, public schools in Punjab are nevertheless feeling the encroachment and supremacy of English all around them, reminiscent of the Orientalists demands to educate Indians in English and to let the vernaculars languish.

It is evident that allegiance to Punjabi as the official language of the state and majority mother tongue language of the region is almost guaranteed, with policy directives that single-mindedly enforce and promote Punjabi language acquisition and maintenance in the public-school education system. The contradiction in this ideal is that due to linguistic diversity in Punjab, some of the student’s mother tongue (non-Punjabi) may have to be sacrificed. However, this language policy model – though understandable in light of the assimilative nature of dominant languages, the official language status and support given to Hindi, and English’s strong position in the economy and the two-tier education system of private schools and public schools – may be critiqued in the light of Pattnayak’s (1988) argument that LPP does not work with a goal to affect polylingual norms; rather the focus is on monolingual communities (something POLA 2008 evidences)– which Khubchandani (1997) critiques as well. Rao (2008) observes:

123 Clearly the ruling elite at different times advanced arguments in favour of one language or the other, Such advocacy and support for a particular language may have solved some problems in the past in a nation that is fraught with linguistic politics and temporarily bridged the gaps between the national-regional; regional-sub-regional; sub-regional-minority groups…. But the long-term effects of such ill-thought out proposals are profound for the multilingual character of Indian society as they challenge the very survival of minority tongues in the country (p. 68).

Khubchandani’s (1997) pan-India study of MOI lists many challenges with a MOI policy where the mother tongue is the medium over the entire education career of a student. Firstly, he suggests that, “native speech may have little semblance with the formal version of mother tongue that is taught in the classroom” (p. 182, 183). The range of dialectical variation in Punjabi compared to the standard variety usually taught in schools in also great in Punjab. The four main regions of Punjab – Majha, Doab, Puadh and Malwa each has distinct patterns of language and so a standard variety of Punjabi has been developed to cover all the dialects. Once children join school, they are forced to adapt to standardized Punjabi for learning and assessment, although they may still be conversant in their dialect and use it quite readily. The low and dialectical varieties are not considered to be sophisticated enough for the standard language, so pressure to adapt is great. Khubchandani is correct though in his second point that, “There is heterogeneity of communication patterns around the student”, as Punjab’s language ecology is rich and diverse and languages other than Punjabi play a part in the education system and in the social lives of students. This poses a challenge to some students who will need to be well versed in their mother tongue, Punjabi, Hindi and English in order to interact with their world. Thirdly, with such a large migrant population in Punjab (from other provinces), his third challenge is very pertinent: “Unequal cultivation of mother tongue as medium of instruction” is an issue for children whose mother tongue is different from the MOI. There are inherent disadvantages when students learn in a language that is not their own (Daswani, 2001; Mohanty, 2005; Pattanayak, 1981) suggesting that mother tongue acquisition almost always leaves a richer residual effect on student achievement, especially when students experience their languages in their communities and in the home on a daily basis.

Twenty-eight years ago, Fishman (1991) wrote that marginalized (minority) languages have difficulty in strengthening their position because it requires cultural communities to defend their rights and needs. In anticipation of the inadequacy of

124 advocacy by minority groups and in an effort to minimize linguistic dominance, the TLF’s aim was to give local/regional languages an important formal position in education policies by integrating an official plural vision with the principle that, like the language policy work undertaken in South Africa, “one language is incomplete without the other” (Makalela, 2017, p. 527). However, Mohanty and Panda (2017) suggest that there is a “double divide” between the regional/national languages, English and indigenous languages with a vast and complex multilayered hierarchy which has led to, “disadvantage, marginalization, language shift and the loss of linguistic diversity” (p.2).It can be argued that the domination of the social order (hierarchy of languages) prevents minority languages from surviving and then thriving.

Numerous scholars (e.g. LaDousa, 2005; Ramanathan, 1999; Kumar, 1993) have claimed unequivocally that the colonially inherited English offers mobility in spatio- economic realms only to the elite. The National Knowledge Commission (2009) states that English is “beyond the reach” (p.27) of a large number of Indians and there is a high degree of unequal access. In Chapter 3 I suggested that the systems of hierarchy and privilege in Indian society have undermined the implementation of the TLF and blocked progress on some of the founding principles of its language policy. In Punjab, although the State language policy appears on the surface to be robust and in line with the TLF, I could not help but observe that both the crafters of Punjab’s language policies and those that are charged to implement them are stymied in their ability to ensure the efficacy, importance, and consistency of the majority’s mother language acquisition, due to many inefficiencies. The enduring socio-linguistic hierarchies in Punjabi society produce and reflect unequal power relations and the historic communal tensions therein and unless vigilance is undertaken, language planning and policy continues to contribute to the relations of power and domination (Langer & Brown, 2008). Does the POLA 2008 refute the realities of some of the people of Punjab by creating a monolingual policy that makes little room for other languages to co-exist at some level with it? Or is it that the POLA 2008 protects a minority language in India that otherwise may not have had the political, social, cultural and educational power it so desires? Resistance to the hegemonic position of English and Hindi both within the state and outside it is evident in the strictly regulated policy frameworks of the states, like that of the POLA in Punjab. The draft NEP 2019 (NEP, 2019) is suggesting that Hindi become mandatory in all schools in India,

125 foregrounding political strife in Tamil Nadu (south of India), where Hindi is not included as part of the language system,

Such contradictions between an espoused language policy and realities on the ground are a common feature in studies of LPP, as Fishman (1996) suggests:

For one thing, there is usually a difference between the policy as stated (the official, de jure or overt policy) and the policy as it actually works at the practical level (the covert, de facto or grass-roots policy). This may result from some historical change, for example, increase in numbers or political power of a formerly insignificant minority, such as by immigration, demographics (birth rate), or conquest of territory. But alas, the ‘fit’ between language policies and the polities for which they have been devised are rarely appropriate, and in actual practice a typology of policies would look very different from a typology of the multilingual states that they have been applied to (p.2).

To better understand these contradictions as they play out in Punjab’s educational system, more empirical studies are needed of patters and communication and language acquisition in a variety of school settings. Khubchandani, drawing on a wide range of experience and the existing literature, pointed out twenty years ago, which holds true even today:

One notices a wide gap between the language policies professed and actual practice in a classroom. It is not unusual to find in many institutions anomalous patterns of communication where the teacher and the taught interact in one language, classes are conducted in another, textbooks are written in a third and answers are given in a third language/style (Khubchandani, 1997, p. 183).

After partition, politically anxious Punjabi Sikhs were wise to insist on Punjabi (in the Gurmukhi text) as the official language of the state for its linguistically vulnerable people in 1967. However, the subsequent fifty years of policy implementation has been largely managed by policy actors with a top-down approach, becoming more and more far removed from the genesis of the political struggles and on-the-ground realities of the society around them. It would behoove policy planners to work on further applying the right kind of interventions towards the language in the face of aforementioned inequities.

In keeping with my analysis for social change in Punjab, I envision a more emancipatory version of language policy where policy actors would develop better linguistic responses to demographically defined mother tongue needs (migrant families) even while recognizing regional linguistic strengths of the Punjabi language as the

126 language of both the main religion of the region, its people and of the cadre of administrators. Policy actors would actively reflect upon the Punjabi language’s own position of power that affects class, economic status and upward mobility in Punjab. Theoretically, an emancipatory linguistic ideal would ensure each child’s dialogical agency while preserving diverse cultural identities and psycho-social interactions with diverse language groups. An application of that ideal outcome is where language policy creates a, “set of positions, principles and decisions reflecting that community’s relationships to its verbal repertoire and communicative potential” and language planning understands “a set of concrete measures taken within language policy to act on linguistic communication in a community, typically by directing the development of its languages” (Bugarski, 1992, p. 18). Policy planners for Punjabi language implementation and maintenance in Punjab need to critically examine inherent power differentials in low and high context language in the regions and create results through the liberating power of transformational curriculum, pedagogy and impact of an equitable and inclusive education for all. This is even more critically important since political decisions that create policies in the first place, serve the welfare of the majority all the while validating their historic positions.

127

Conclusion

As a young child my exposure to languages was intense and diverse, but at the time the intensity seemed very organic and languages were absorbed and interacted without any critical analysis on my part. A critical perspective only revealed itself much later in life when I had to make personal choices about language acquisition (for my children) and I began to question core ideas about retention of mother tongue, the role of formal education, the hegemony of English, the inequitable power of language(s), language planning and policies and their implementation, etc. I slowly became aware, ‘‘that policies often create and sustain various forms of social inequality, and that policymakers usually promote the interests of dominant social groups’’ (Tollefson 2006, p. 42).

My own linguistic schooling was a direct result of language planning and policy in the Indian context, which was locally bound, yet informed by elitist ethnolinguistic nationalism within a post-colonial context. Heller (2011), in her critical ethnography on language and identity, suggests that discursive spaces are worthy of analysis, where “ideologies are developed, contested, or reproduced in connection with the production and circulation of resources and of the regulation of access to them” (p. 41). As a reflexive researcher I have been transformed by the research, both in my identity as a multilingual speaker with privilege and as a person seeking social change in my everyday life. The ideal values I carried with me as I sought out the very language planning and policy processes that shaped my life were brought into question when I reflected upon the inequities present in the policy implementation mechanisms in government school system in Punjab. This study is a reflection of my deeper understanding of the historical and structural inequities inherent in language policy planning and implementation, and of the fine-grained complexities of the Punjabi context. In stage 5 of Fairclough’s (2001) analytical framework, I turn back on my own critique to evaluate its effectiveness and to reflect critically on the analysis. I am aware of my own insider/outsider position and make the effort not to let my own bias affect my analysis.

128 I have critically analyzed the management and directive power of discourse in policy texts with a goal to understand language ideologies present in Punjab that have historical antecedents in India’s post-independence language rights movements. The larger socio-linguistic realities of the state of Punjab are reflected in policy directives that are silent on the linguistic needs of other minority languages in the area, causing me to surmise that there is room for some more inclusionary practices. English’s hegemonic position in Punjab has been kept at bay with policy sanctioned and protected Punjabi MOI that is enforced with strength and vigour, leaving me to question how long this will continue in the new world order where India has become a global power. Applying critical social analysis using historical structural inquiry about India’s language planning and policy processes has led me to conclude that the goals of its Three Language Formula in terms of corpus, status and acquisition planning have met with some success in the Punjab region (the area of my study) through the planning and policy bureaucratic machinery. Keeping in mind that policy formulation, codification, elaboration and implementation (Fishman, 1971, Tollefsen, 1991) are all a part of the historical textual analysis, my investigation of Punjab’s public policy arena has furthered the question about what kinds of circumstances are necessary for minority language groups to ensure that their language-in-education needs are met. And what limitations do they encounter, even if the circumstances are favourable? I am critical of the power and privilege of policy actors in the state education system who are ideologically bound to their state policy. I did not evidence many contradictions to the public policy ideology that contributed to the social emancipation of inequities. It can be argued that Punjabi as a minority language in its own emancipatory position is creating space for a language that holds within it an ethos of fighting linguistic oppression. If the draft NEP 2019 (NEP 2019) can suggest that the languages of many children need to be included in the school repertoire, Punjab must take heed and make inclusionary language practices as part of its policy framework.

Historically, India’s post-Independence response to decolonization of education was mired in complex systems of ideology and political struggle. On the one hand, enforced secularism and egalitarianism were central to the political vision of the ruling dominant Westernized Congress party members, and on the other, the excesses pf Hindu nationalism and various forms of classism/casteism were powerful forces at the time, along with the ambitions of the local elites in the various newly carved autonomy

129 craving states. This was the context that led to languages being mapped onto majority- identity-focused geographical boundaries without much consideration to local state concerns, even while English (the language of the colonist) retained its central supremacy. In addition to the fundamentally important diversity of the country, the political north-south divide was evident in the language policy debates that carried on for post 1947.

Language policy and planning post-independence was all undertaken in a very short time in the first several years within the urgent and expansive processes of postcolonial nation-building (Sheth, 2018; Ramanthan, 1998; Pennycook, 1998; Canagarajah, 1997; Phillipson, 1992). While a newly independent India was certainly not to be faulted for drawing linguistic lines in a manner that politicians thought would help evade any anticipated communal strife based on religious affiliations to languages, the whole effort failed to take account of people’s own self-understandings and experiences.

Over the last seventy plus years since Independence, India’s language policy in the form of the Three Language Formula has been unevenly implemented in the country’s educational landscape. The TLF on the surface signifies the interests of Hindi (as a language with a goal of uniting India), English (as the language of power, commerce and scientific inquiry) and regional languages (in support of linguistic diversity), However, right from the beginning it has been an effective smokescreen for the ongoing support of latent colonial ideas and globalization by giving lip service to diversity while in fact leaving the door open to the increasing hegemony of English and the potential hegemony of Hindu nationalism. As well, I would argue that it has been a thoroughly elitist policy and has never intended to address the great linguistic diversity with each language group and their interests as many fourth and fifth-tier languages have languished from neglect. As Mohanty (2019, 2006) claims that while indigenous and tribal languages are part and parcel of Indian societies, there is great uneven standing of their educational status.

Due to the largely accepted view of the uneven implementation of the TLF in the state of Punjab and in India per se, I support Laitin’s (1989) conclusion that the Three Language Formula is at best a 3+/-1 language policy whereby +1 occurs when classical languages such as Sanskrit, and regional languages such as Kannada, Tamil and Telegu are added to English as the regional language options and Hindi is completely

130 ignored (mostly in the south). At the same time -1 occurs in Hindi speaking regions (mostly in the north) that only teach Hindi and English and ignore the directive to teach a third language and might instead teach a European language. In both versions of the policy, the hegemony of the English language in post-colonial India remains a stubborn fact. Indeed, the National Knowledge Commission (NKC) report of 2006-2009 seems to revert back to the historic Orientalist view: “An understanding and command over the English language is a most important determinant of access to higher education, employment possibilities and social opportunities. School-leavers who are not adequately trained in English as a language are always at a handicap in the world of higher education” (NKC, 2006, p.32). Rao (2008) comments:

If the advocacy of English education by the NKC Report (2006) is any indication, the existence of all Indian languages other than English are rendered redundant in educational contexts and the newer generations of linguistic minorities will be deprived of even the oral skills in their native tongue (p.67).

The National Education Policy (2019) draft that was recently released to MHRD on May 31, 2019 (chaired by Dr. K. Kasturirangan) provides for reforms for all levels of education. This policy document makes a pitch to policymakers towards a shift for local language acquisition.by suggesting that children learn their home language till grade 5 and if possible, till grade 8 and students who wish to change one or more languages may do so in grades 6 or 7 as long they can demonstrate proficiency. And yet again, the TLF received no change: “The three language formula, followed since the adoption of the National Policy on Education 1968, and endorsed in the National Policy on Education 1986/1992 as well as the NCF 2005, will be continued, keeping in mind the Constitutional provisions and aspirations of the people, regions, and the Union” (p. 81).It makes no changes to the National Curriculum Framework at this time and promises a revised updated document by 2020. The Policy does not clearly speak to the strength of English and its hegemonic position and misses an opportunity to address the very structural damage that English has made to India’s many languages.

Regardless of national policy rhetoric, in Punjab, public education’s policy support and strict adherence to Punjabi MOI has prevented a continuous loss of the mother tongue. However, the competing private system’s English MOI (with its inherent power and privilege), and the dominance of English in the post-secondary system, undermines the Punjabi language’s full adoption in the state. It is true that India’s

131 language policy and framework has adapted to the needs of its states’ citizens (as in Punjab), and the changing demands of both the aspirations of its increasingly well- educated citizens and the effects of globalization from the 1990’s onwards to the present. However, the survival of minority languages within the globalized new order, and the needs of people from lower socio-economic strata of society for equal education, require deeper engagement and better strategies for public education on the part of the Centre and the State for its people.

Brass (2004) suggests the following preliminary schemata of vernacular empowerment and disempowerment:

Lower-level elite (writers, teachers, lower rung bureaucrats) promotion of the vernacular, inculcating > linguistic narcissism, creating > a movement for self-respect, and > group recognition, > identifying the language of the dominant as alien, enslaving, and (sometimes) corrupt, leading to >language purification, and > official recognition of the vernacular, displacement of the alien, enslaving language, and empowerment of the formerly powerless

The movement in the other direction may be encapsulated as follows:

Dominant elite defence of the language of rule as the most fit instrument for communication and modernity and as the repository of the glories of the people’s high culture > disparagement of the vernaculars as unfit and uncouth > acceptance of the vernaculars as fit only for primary and secondary education, good enough for the masses, for whom education in the elite language will remain unattainable > continued use of the elite language at the highest official levels, against all competitors > and retention of the power of the upper class, upper caste users in government and/or in the global network of intellectual and corporate power (p.368)

I contend that both of these movements are visible in the Punjabi context. My research clearly indicates that highly influential and bureaucratized policy actors in the Punjab School Board of Education provide directives for Punjabi language acquisition and maintenance in direct support of the Punjabi Official Languages Act, a politically charged document whose historical antecedents are squarely placed in the political struggle against oppression and language rights. However, the current policy planning directives do not directly respond to the political struggles of the past, although they continue to produce directives that reproduces the ideologies of the state. Policy actors responsible for critical decisions about the structure of language, its application, acquisition and maintenance do not take into account the on-the-ground realities might

132 be different from the theoretical frameworks of policy planning, or from the historical context in which the policies were developed. In Punjab policy makers must now work to reconcile a vernacular language policy with the pressures of a globalized English hegemony and the regional economic and demographic presence of Hindi speaking migrants, and attempt to provide language learning opportunities that are in competition with forces outside their control (Menken & Garcia, 2010). Even while these pressures are ever present, the realities of linguistically diverse students in the education system might be at odds with the policy directives that uphold Punjabi’s premier position without taking into account the linguistic demographic shift in Punjab due to its migrant labour force. The larger national demands of policy fulfillment due to the centralized nature of the education mandate, policy makers report to two masters (albeit that these two masters have somewhat complimentary policy agendas).

Unlike the context of familial socialization in Punjab, which still strongly favours Punjabi for most individuals, institutional socialization is “linked with national and international ideologies, discourses and policies” (Tollefson & Pérez-Milans, 2018, p.8). This leads to measures such as the introduction of English at the grade one level, before the mother tongue has had a chance to be fully developed. I deduce that to maintain a minority language in a country besieged by linguistic nationalism and the pressures of globalization, new approaches to LPP are needed.

The planners and implementers of LPP must consider that the people they aim to reach “are not merely disembodied life forms embedded in discursive systems, but rather as concrete human beings with substantial and inescapable material needs” (Pérez-Milans & Tollefsen, 2018, p.731). I am pressed to question whether Indian language policy planners have truly considered how a language is to survive if home language transmission is ignored in minority language contexts (e.g. due to internal state labour migration or other reasons). More holistic approaches to language maintenance and revitalization are surely desirable, combined with efforts made for community language development and greater advocacy for families of minority language speakers (e.g. Punjab’s migrant children) alongside the native language speaker. This kind of social change in a country as linguistically diverse as India must respond to place and time as well as to politics and circumstance. While the Three-language Formula was created out of stressful political bargaining within the complex social struggle for national unity, it left the door open to the rise of unattainable aspirations in the language policy

133 arena, such as Punjab’s goal of providing both linguistic command of a regionally invested language and the linguistic means for upward social and economic mobility, in the face of competing languages that have greater clout and prestige and the persistent inequalities of access experienced by lower socio-economically placed constituents.

In order to revitalize mother tongue acquisition, retention and maintenance, I suggest that the TLF has to actively support the economic and social implications of MOI and provide directives for better infrastructure, linguistic and pedagogical supports for government schools to match the private school attraction for parents as mediums for future success around “language privileges, cultural prestige, and socio-economic mobility” (Khubchandani, 1978, p. 14). It appears from a study of policy frameworks in education that the TLF still sits on the sidelines of the recent Indian National Education Policy (2019) and is referred to in patronizing terms and given historical deference without really giving it the true analysis it requires. Instead, the rhetoric continues in this vein:

Implementation of the three-language formula: The three-language formula will need to be implemented in its spirit throughout the country, promoting multilingual communicative abilities for a multilingual country. However, it must be better implemented in certain States, particularly Hindi speaking States; for purposes of national integration, schools in Hindi speaking areas should also offer and teach Indian languages from other parts of India. This would help raise the status of all Indian languages, the teachers of such languages, and the literature of such languages, and would open positions and increase opportunities for language teachers across the country; it would of course also truly expand horizons and enlarge the range of opportunities for graduating students (p. 83).

I recommend that India’s language planning and policy must be relatable (and responsive) with language practices for it to have a full impact. Not only in Punjab, but all over India, implementation of TLF has been largely inconsistent (Mohanty, 2019a; National Council for Educational Research and Training, 2006). It is true that the Indian political elites since Independence have been vigilant about any regression in language policy implementation, resulting in the TLF policy framework never having been tinkered with since its inception (as evidenced in NEP, 2019). At the same time, state education policies find ways to bolster their particular languages to meet their own needs, without a full acceptance of national or local minority voices. However, the impact of globalization, continuing societal inequities, minority language vulnerabilities, political swings, movements of people across linguistic borders etc. have all contributed to contribute to

134 the difficulties of fully implementing the TLF in a form that fulfils the diverse demands of a complex linguistic population, and Punjab is no exception. Looking forward requires a thorough rethinking and reorientation of LPP at both the Centre and State levels by politicians and bureaucrats who are entrusted with language policy planning responsibilities. I acknowledge that it is challenging to find the will required to combat the pressures of the powerful elite who work to maintain the status quo and to find ways to transform LPP within the value laden hierarchical societies in India. But it must be done in order for language planning and policy to be part of the important changes occurring in a fast-changing world and to help provide relief and support to the margins where inequity finds itself bereft of support and sustenance.

In my study I have shown the deliberate work of LPP to affect the structure and function of languages “with changes in the system of language code or speaking or both that are planned by organizations that are established for such purposes or given a mandate to fulfill such purposes” (Rubin & Jernudd, 1971, p. xvi). This very deliberate work is evident in India’s polyglot and in Punjab in particular as a case study. Furthering the cause are broad policy actors amongst the formal state authorities in Punjab who work to influence the “behaviour of others with respect to the acquisition, structure, or functional allocation of their language codes” (Cooper, 1989, p. 45). India’s national language planning and policy goals have withstood the test of time with the TLF still standing in its original form, which seems considerably short-sighted considering the amount of change that has occurred and is still occurring on the sub-continent.

This study has shown that India’s LPP was enacted in institutions along with the processes of nation building, nationalism, political integration of the country, and the difficulties of meeting diverse linguistic needs of its citizens. Certain inequities inherent in any society (and India is not immune from them) are prevalent even today and the policy frameworks attempts to address certain inequities have not measured up. Minority languages continue to languish and bureaucracy driven policy responses have not found nation-wide responses to a moral imperative to meet the needs of the country’s populace. This might be the weakest flaw in the language planning and policy framework of India as it continues to work with issues of language, culture and identity.

As I undertook the critical work for useful analysis of policy texts directed by policy actors, I took care to ensure (and combat any misunderstandings) that the texts

135 were attributable to individuals in the system (albeit anonymously) as, “critical approaches investigate the (usually) open pursuit of policy goals that are in line with the responsibilities, roles and authorities of powerful institutions, groups and individuals who dominate the policymaking processes” (Tollefson & Pérez-Milans, 2018, p. 728). Reflecting on critical discourse analysis as an inductive approach to study how policy discourse sustains and reproduces power in the Punjab public school’s system context, I was struck by the role of policy actors as “gatekeepers to discursive resources” (Mullet, 2018, p. 117). Partially, in India global forces pre and post-independence have produced a closely guarded mentality of law makers to protect that which was lost/stolen in the colonization processes. As a result, globalization has been slow to reach post-colonial India - liberalization of the economy did not occur until the 90’s. At this time the goal of policymakers was to make the economy more market and service oriented. I recognize that the dominant concept of CDA is to uncover hidden power relations in discourse (van Dijk, 1993), but I would add to its theoretical underpinnings by including the effect of market forces on language policy in the context of this study. I would suggest that modifying CDA’s approach to include the effect of external market forces on language planning and policy would provide insight on some of the reasons for production of the policy text. For example, in Punjab, for English to take precedence over Hindi as the second language in public schools is driven by the need for early education for Punjabi students in the language of business, commerce and government. In today’s economic landscape, market forces do play an integral role in language education in Punjab, although it might be contested vigorously by the public system that public schooling is not driven by the financial mechanism of market force in the same manner that private schooling is structured.

As part of my analysis I recommend that future research is required to address the tensions inherent in the continuing positioning of English as the language with power while the social reality is quite different in a multilingual state and nation. While constitutional provisions have safeguarded the language rights of India’s minorities, a better response through policy provisions to combat the limited access to their mother tongue by linguistic minorities is much needed. Further strengthening of language planning and policy directives needs to be undertaken within for example, the National Curriculum Frameworks, the National Education Policies and the Right to Education Act to ensure that English’s hegemonic role does not disrupt the multilingual orientation of

136 most Indians to a point of no return. Inconsistencies between declared policies and de facto policies and practices are quite widespread in India and it is a sad testament when Mohanty (2019a) suggests that language policies actually implemented versus what is enshrined in law proves that sociolinguistic hierarchies have prevailed in disadvantaging those in the margins (like non-English MOI students, tribal minorities, etc.). A result of these inequities is the continued emphasis on dominant languages and the neglect of the minority vernacular with Mohanty (2019b) concluding that, “Effective education of linguistic minorities needs both macro- and micro-level changes in language-in- education policy and in educational practices” (p.7).

Seventy-two years after Independence, much has changed in the Indian political landscape, however, a recurring theme has been the support for English as a language of power and the political support for Hindi as an official language. While more languages have been added to the schedule (from 14 – 22), marginalized languages have not been afforded the same political support to make them sustainable and viable. As well, language planning and policy has continued to be a top-down process with institutionalized directives managed by highly placed bureaucrats that ensure the implementation of political interests. The processes of decision making are still well entrenched within highly centralized hierarchically bound bureaucratic structures, various agencies at different levels and hierarchically bound. Further research on how to encourage more grassroots involvement in language policy and planning in Punjab would be useful.

Multilingual education is well developed in the public-school system in Punjab, however the low status accorded to vernaculars is present in Punjabi society as well and English still holds a strong position as a language of upward mobility for Punjabis. Globalization impacts are also being felt in Punjab in both rural and urban communities and it is important for the state to strengthen Punjabi’s position as a language that contributes to the economy of the state as a complimentary language to English and to find ways to safeguard any further encroachments. If Punjab is a case study of how a small state which has a strong religio-political language tradition has to remain vigilant to combat the hegemony of English and Hindi in its larger state-wide policy frameworks, then what is the future of those states who do not have the same language strength? It is important to understand and analyze that while Punjabi is the MOI and first language of instruction in public schools, how English has been able to gain ground as a desired

137 language of prestige and status in complimentary education systems in the state and country (way past what was felt might be its post-colonial impact and continuing internal choice and demand).

The limitations of this study preclude a full summation of vernacular language planning and policy impact on other parts of India, except for acknowledging the country’s complex geographic, cultural and linguistic diversity. While I suggest that languages plays a great role in social stratification in Punjab between Government schools where the vernacular is the MOI (lower status) and the English MOI private schools (higher status) and policy directives provide interventions and supports to maintain Punjabi language MOI in Government schools, but because India does not have a unified language-in-education policy for a common system of education, it provides parents with a choice of a variety of Boards of Education in each province, some of whom do not embrace vernacular MOI. I was limited in my study of only the State Board of Education for Punjab (the PSEB), and thus could not provide in-depth results on how the other Boards implement language policies and their role in promoting the vernacular languages of the state. Multilingual education does not just have linguistic impact, there are many socio-political affected connotations (like caste, religion) which I could not study, but which may further complicate in India’s case its linguistic diversity and social inequities. While India’s great linguistic diversity is quite unique for a unified nation, there are many inequities that plague its vast regions and I could not analyze them as part of this study.

As well, because I was only studying language policy directives in Punjab (textual analysis), it precluded my ability to understand the human dimensions of policy implementation by policy actors, administrators and educators in Punjab and their understandings of impact and effect within the big machine of public education. In order to undertake a textual policy implementation study, I avoided the need to interview policy actors themselves who developed and implemented the policies for language instruction in public education in Punjab. In hindsight, their considered insights would have been invaluable to the thesis results and my own learning.

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159 Appendix A.

List of Authorities

Table A.1. Officers from Directorate Public Instructions (Elementary Education) Punjab (S.C.O.31, Sector 17 E) Name Designation Dr. Sadhu Singh Randhawa Director Public Instruction Mrs Pankaj District Education Officer Mr. Jaswinder Nayyar Cluster Master Teacher Mrs. Sushma Kansal Block Master Teacher

Table A.2. Directorate General Secondary Education (S.C.O. 104-106, II and III floor, Sector 34-Chandigarh) Name Designation Mr. Baldeo Purushartha Director General Secondary Education

Table A.3. Sarva Sikhia Abhiyan Authorities (S.C.O. 104-106, II and III floor, Sector 34-Chandigarh) Name Designation Mr. Balwinder Singh State Project Director (SPD) under Parho Punjab project by SSA Mr. Suresh District Coordinator - Cluster Teachers

Table A.4. Officers from District Education Office (DEO) Elementary, Phase 2, Mohali Name Designation Mrs. Surjeet Kaur Block Resource Person Mrs. Sunita District Resource Person

Table A.5. Officer from Block Primary Education Office (BPEO) Phase 3B, Mohali Name Designation Mr. Rashpal Singh Block Primary Education Officer

160 Appendix B.

Punjab Official Language Policy

Source: http://www.lawsofindia.org/pdf/punjab/1967/1967PN5.pdf

161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169

170 Appendix C.

Eighth Schedule of Indian Constitution

Source; file:///C:/Users/Visitor.WBFHOME/Desktop/March%2019%20ph/EIGHTH- SCHEDULE%20of%20India.pdf

171

172

173 Appendix D.

Article 343 of the Indian Constitution

https://web.archive.org/web/20120131144815/http://lawmin.nic.in/olwing/coi/coi- english/Const.Pock%202Pg.Rom8Fsss(23).pdf

174

175

176

177

178

179 Appendix E.

PSEB Policy Directives

PSEB Policy Directives ** for this thesis Circular# Policy directive Date Authority 1 Edusat Schedule January 2019 12/28/2018 DGSE 2 Reversion orders BPEO Nakodar - 1 12/27/2018 DPI-EE Jalandhar 3 D.P.Ed. Datesheet Semester-1 Session 12/22/2018 SCERT/DPI 2018-19 4 Regarding National Mathematics Day 12/20/2018 SCERT **5 Model Test Paper Class 8th Science 12/20/2018 SCERT 6 Regarding Handwriting and writing skills 12/20/2018 EDUSAT competitions 7 Regarding IELTS Project | Study Material 12/19/2018 SCERT 8 Use of Learning Outcomes in Schools of 12/18/2018 SCERT Class 1st to 8th || Learning Outcomes 9 Sample Paper 10th Class SST 12/17/2018 SCERT **10 Sample Paper 10th Class English 12/17/2018 SCERT **11 Sample Paper 12th Class Political 12/17/2018 SCERT Science **12 Sample Paper 12th Class Geography 12/17/2018 SCERT **13 Sample Paper 12th Class English 12/17/2018 SCERT **14 Sample Paper 12th Class Economics 12/17/2018 SCERT **15 Admission of Students in Govt. Schools 12/17/2018 DGSE/SCERT **16 Sample Paper 8th Class SST 12/17/2018 SCERT **17 Sample Paper 8th Class English 12/17/2018 SCERT 18 Dr Hargobind Khurana Scholarship 12/17/2018 DPI-SE Scheme **19 Admission in Pre-primary classes 12/15/2018 DPI 20 Participation of School Children in 12/13/2018 SCERT Republic Day Celebration 21 Defending Civil Appeals in Courts on 12/13/2018 SSE behalf of Punjab state 22 Sample Model Test paper of Punjabi 12/11/2018 SCERT Subject for 12th Class 23 Sample Model Test paper of Math 12/11/2018 SCERT Subject for 12th Class 24 Meeting through Edusat regarding 12/10/2018 SCERT Smart Schools 25 Revised Answer Keys NTSE 2018 (MAT & 12/7/2018 SCERT SAT)

180 26 Monthly Syllabus Distribution Class 5th 12/6/2018 SCERT 27 Model Test Paper SA2 Punjabi Class 8th 12/4/2018 SCERT 28 Model Test papers for Class 8th SA2 11/28/2018 SCERT 29 School Level Test of Udaan Project 11/28/2018 SCERT 30 Meeting of DMs Math under Padho 11/28/2018 SCERT Punjab 31 Guidance committee of Schools 11/26/2018 DGSE 32 Regarding hihger education of teachres 11/26/2018 DPI-SE 33 Corrections of PSTET Result 2017 11/26/2018 SCERT 34 Revised DDO Powers 11/26/2018 DPI-SE 35 Question Booklet PSTSE 2018 11/16/2018 SCERT (10th) || Answer Keys 36 Question Booklet PSTSE 2018 11/16/2018 SCERT (8th) || Answer Keys 37 NMMS Question Booklet and Answer 11/16/2018 SCERT Keys 38 Regarding Molik and likhat competitions 11/16/2018 SCERT 39 Writing competitions at school level 11/15/2018 SCERT **40 Punjab Transparency and Accountability 11/14/2018 SSE Public Service Act 2018 41 Punjab State Talent Search Examination 11/13/2018 SCERT 2018 **42 Evaluation of pre-primary students 11/10/2018 SCERT 43 Public notice regarding PSTET 11/6/2018 SCERT Certificates 44 School level competitions of Govt. 11/3/2018 SCERT School Students 45 Public notice regarding NMMS Exam 11/3/2018 SCERT 46 Public notice regarding migration of 11/3/2018 SCERT DIET Students 47 Answer Key NMMS Mock Test of 30th & 10/31/2018 SCERT 31st Oct. 2018 48 Competition for Students at School Level 10/31/2018 SCERT 49 NMMS Mock Test (SAT) || NMMS 10/30/2018 SCERT Answer Sheet 50 3rd Monthly test of Udaan Project 10/29/2018 SCERT 51 Handwriting Competition at School Level 10/29/2018 SCERT 52 Answer Keys for NTSE 2nd Mock Test 10/29/2018 SCERT 53 IELTS Training of Teachers 10/29/2018 SCERT 54 » NTSE 2nd Mock Test (MAT) 10/29/2018 SCERT 55 » NTSE 2nd Mock Test (SAT) 10/29/2018 SCERT 56 Syllabus distribution and test series for 10/25/2018 SCERT 11th and 12th Class 57 NMMS Mock Test Answer Keys 10/25/2018 SCERT

181 58 Regarding Mock Tests for NTSE and 10/25/2018 SCERT NMMS 2018 59 Mock Test for NMMS Exam 2018 (Part 10/25/2018 SCERT 2) 60 NMMS Mock Test and Sample OMR 10/22/2018 SCERT Sheet 61 Mock Test (English) 10/22/2018 SCERT 62 Regular visits of schools by Sikhya 10/17/2018 SCERT Sudhar Teams 63 Public Notice regarding registration of 10/17/2018 SCERT NTSE State-1 Exam.-2018 64 Participation of students in District and 10/16/2018 SCERT State Level Competitions 65 Mid Test of 1st to 5th Class Students 10/16/2018 SCERT under Padho Punjab 66 Public Notice regarding PSTET 2018 10/15/2018 SCERT 67 Mock Test for NTSE 2018 || Answer 10/15/2018 SCERT Keys for NTSE Mock Test 68 Regarding preparation of IELTS modules 10/12/2018 SCERT 69 Migration of D.El.Ed. Students studying 10/12/2018 SCERT in DIETs 70 Interest of students for Library books 10/12/2018 SCERT **71 Implementation of Buddy Group System 10/12/2018 SCERT in Schools 72 Schedule of School visits by Sikhya 10/9/2018 SCERT Sudhar Teams 73 Regarding English subject IELTS Training 10/5/2018 SCERT 74 Tender for undertaking PSTET 2018 10/5/2018 SCERT 75 Question bank for differently abled 10/5/2018 SCERT children 76 Regarding validity of PSTET Test Results 10/4/2018 SCERT 77 Meeting of committee members to 10/4/2018 SCERT prepare Roadmap for IELTS training 78 Period adjustments for State Resource 9/21/2018 SCERT Group members 79 Endline Testing of class 6th To 8th for 9/21/2018 SCERT English subject 80 Motivational training of teachers (4th 9/21/2018 SCERT group) 81 Regarding discontinuing of Udaan 9/20/2018 SCERT Sheets due to September Exams 82 Regarding verification of TET Certificates 9/20/2018 SCERT 83 Training of newly appointed Hindi 9/18/2018 SCERT Teachers 84 Regarding construction of new DIETs 9/18/2018 SCERT

182 85 Instructions for registration of students 9/18/2018 SCERT for NMMS Scheme || List of Students 86 Material for Science activities in Schools 9/18/2018 SCERT 87 Practical activities of students for 9/14/2018 SCERT Science Subject 88 Datesheet for September SA2 and 9th, 9/14/2018 SCERT 10th examination 89 Public notice for deputation of Lecturers 9/13/2018 SCERT in DIETs | Click to apply 90 Letter regarding evaluation of class 3rd 9/12/2018 SCERT to 5th Students 91 Activities at school level for English and 9/12/2018 SCERT SST subject 92 Collection of Question papers for 9/12/2018 SCERT D.El.Ed. Session 2017-19 93 Cancellation of SA2 and 11th, 12th Exam 9/6/2018 SCERT datesheet of September 2018 94 Public notice regarding PSTET 9/5/2018 SCERT 95 Time schedule for September SA1 and 8/30/2018 SCERT 9th,10th class Examination 96 National Talent search examination 8/28/2018 SCERT 2018-19 97 National Means cum Merit Scholarship 8/28/2018 SCERT examination 2018-19 98 Improvement in vocabulary of students 8/28/2018 DEO/SCERT for Punjabi Subject 99 Model Question papers for SA1 of Class 8/27/2018 SCERT 8th **100 Padho Punjab Padhao Punjab meeting 8/20/2018 SCERT through Edusat **101 One day workshop on Punjabi subject 8/16/2018 SCERT under Padho Punjab Padhao Punjab Project 102 Books of private publishers in schools 8/16/2018 SCERT 103 Updation of data on SCERT Portal for 8/14/2018 SCERT D.El.Ed Examination 2017-19 104 Endline testing of English Subject 8/9/2018 SCERT 105 Regarding ACRs of DMs and BMs of 8/9/2018 SCERT Padho Punjab Padhao Punjab 106 Public notice regarding collection of 8/9/2018 SCERT Certificates of PSTET 2017 107 Udaan Project revised answer Key of 08- 8/8/2018 SCERT Aug.-2018 108 Correction in distribution of Punjabi 8/8/2018 SCERT Subject

183 109 Baseline Testing of Punjabi subject class 8/7/2018 SCERT 6th to 8th 110 Training of Psychology teachers 8/7/2018 SCERT 111 Instructions for DEOs regarding Teachers 8/3/2018 SCERT State Award 2018 112 Public Notice regarding Certificate of 8/3/2018 SCERT PSTET 2014 and 2017 113 Teaching Practice by D.El.Ed. and B.Ed. 8/3/2018 SCERT Students 114 Regarding ACRs of Padho Punjab 8/3/2018 SCERT coordinators 115 Answer Key for First Test of Udaan July 8/3/2018 SCERT 2018 116 Instructions for school heads regarding 8/1/2018 DEO/SCERT Padho Punjab Project 117 Math and Science Fair in Schools 7/31/2018 SCERT 118 Regarding test under Udaan Project 7/31/2018 SCERT 119 Training of newly promoted teachers 7/27/2018 SCERT 120 Teaching practice by D.El.Ed. and B.Ed. 7/27/2018 SCERT Students 121 Guidelines regarding Science Activity 7/27/2018 SCERT Fair in Schools under Padho Punjab 122 Schedule of visits by Sikhya Sudhar 7/27/2018 SCERT Teams : 123 Schedule of Regular visits of Sudhar 6/27/2018 SCERT Teams (July - 2018) 124 PSTSE 10th Class Final 500 Selected 6/27/2018 SCERT Students | PSTSE 10th Class Repeater Students 125 District-wise PSTSE Result 2018 6/20/2018 SCERT 126 Speaking Orders for Civil Writ Petition 6/20/2018 SCERT No 2461 of 2012 Kulwinder Kaur and Others 127 Public notice regarding PSTET-1 2013 6/13/2018 SCERT Result || Download Result 128 Corrections in SA2 Evaluations of 5th 6/9/2018 SCERT and 8th Class 129 Syllabus of English from class 6th to 10th 6/7/2018 SCERT 130 Registration of students for Annual and 5/28/2018 SCERT Reappear exams of D.El.Ed Courses 131 Final Result of NMMS Examination 5/22/2018 SCERT 2017-18 132 SBS Nagar |Tarn Taran 5/22/2018 SCERT 133 Regarding verification of TET Certificates 5/18/2018 SCERT 134 Regarding Math Tables for Class 6th to 5/12/2018 SCERT 8th

184 135 CWP 845 of 2018 Narinder Singh and 5/12/2018 SCERT Others v/s State of Punjab **136 Regarding Punjab State Language Act 5/9/2018 SCERT 2008 137 Regarding Padho Punjab Padhao Punjab 5/8/2018 SCERT Science 138 Schedule of School Visits May 2018 4/29/2018 SCERT 139 Baseline Test of Class 6th TO 10th 4/29/2018 SCERT English and Social Science 140 Regarding Mathematics Baseline for 4/26/2018 SCERT Class 6th TO 10th 141 E-Admit cards for NTS Stage-II Exam 4/24/2018 SCERT 2018 142 Display of Learning outcomes in Schools 4/23/2018 SCERT 143 Orientation training of all Science and 4/23/2018 SCERT Math teachers of Smart Schools **144 Display of Learning Outcomes in 4/17/2018 SCERT/DGSE Classrooms 145 Meeting of school heads through Edusat 4/16/2018 SCERT **146 Implementation of Padho Punjab 4/15/2018 SCERT Padhao Punjab Project in Schools 147 Syllabus distribution for Class 6th to 4/11/2018 SCERT 10th (Hindi) 148 Distribution of Syllabus for Class 6th TO 4/9/2018 SCERT 10th 149 Deputation of DMs and BMs 4/2/2018 SCERT 150 Declaration of result of 5th and 8th class 3/28/2018 SCERT Evaluation 151 Regarding Padho Punjab Padhao Punjab 3/28/2018 SCERT Science 152 Syllabus distribution Class 6th to 10th 3/26/2018 SCERT 153 Syllabus distribution Class 6th TO 8th 3/26/2018 SCERT (Math) 154 Public notice regarding revised result of 3/24/2018 SCERT NTSE 2017 155 Regarding data entry of 5th and 8th 3/16/2018 SCERT Class evaluation results 156 Instructions for NTSE 2017-18 Stage-2 3/16/2018 SCERT Examination 157 NTSE 2017-18 Result :: Overall SCERT Result | Selected Students 158 Regarding Padho Punjab Padhao Punjab 3/15/2018 SCERT (Science) 159 Format for Class 5th SA2 Evaluation 3/7/2018 SCERT 160 Public notice regarding revised result of 3/5/2018 SCERT PSTET-2 2014 | Revised Result

185 161 Guidelines for preparation of results of 2/28/2018 SCERT SA2 Evaluation Class 5th 162 Guidelines for preparation of results of 2/28/2018 SCERT SA2 Evaluation Class 8th 163 Datesheet for 5th and 8th class Learning 2/22/2018 SCERT outcomes evaluation system 164 Answer keys of PSTSE 2017 :: Class 2/17/2018 SCERT 8th | Class 10th 165 Sample model paper for SA2 of Class 8th 2/13/2018 SCERT 166 Public Notice regarding revised result of 2/12/2018 SCERT PSTET 2014 167 Regarding Udaan Project 2/12/2018 SCERT 168 Regarding Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab 2/7/2018 SCERT Science **169 English subject competitions under 2/3/2018 SCERT Parho Punjab Paraho Punjab 170 Job profile of SLAs 2/1/2018 SCERT 171 Regarding admission of students in 1/30/2018 SCERT Govt. Schools 172 Periods of 9th and 10th classes by 1/30/2018 SCERT Science Lecturers 173 Model Test Paper Hindi for 8th Class 1/25/2018 SCERT 174 End line Test of Parho Punjab Paraho 1/24/2018 SCERT Punjab - Math 175 End line Test of English and SST 1/22/2018 SCERT 176 Model Question papers Class 8th Maths 1/19/2018 SCERT 177 Model Question papers Class 8th English 1/19/2018 SCERT and SS 178 Competitions under Parho Punjab 1/16/2018 SCERT Paraho Punjab 179 Postpone of date of exam. of Punjab 1/15/2018 SCERT State Talent Search Examination 2017- 18 182 Sample Question Paper for 5th Class 1/6/2018 SCERT Exam. **181 Parents Teacher meeting 7/28/2017 SCERT/DGSE **182 Appointments of 244 Sikhya Providers 5/15/2019 DEO reservation

186 Appendix F.

Circular #146 Punjabi

187