The Politics Of English

Why one language can open doors for some while quietly closing them for others.

A student walks into an interview room and answers every question correctly. They are confident, intelligent, and well-prepared. But when they speak in accented English, the room changes. The interviewer smiles politely, but the judgment has already begun.

This is the politics of English: the way a language becomes more than a tool for communication. It becomes a marker of education, class, power, and belonging.

English is often described as a “global language.” It connects people across countries, supports international business, and dominates the internet, academia, and media. In many ways, knowing English can create opportunities. It can help someone access better education, apply for jobs, and participate in global conversations.

But this advantage is not distributed equally.

In countries with colonial histories, including India, English still carries a powerful social weight. During British rule, English was introduced as the language of administration and higher education. Over time, it became associated with authority, intelligence, and upward mobility.

That legacy has not disappeared. Today, fluency in English is often treated as a sign of competence, even when competence has little to do with language. A person may be highly skilled in science, art, law, or public service, yet still be underestimated because they do not speak English fluently.

This creates an invisible hierarchy. Those who speak polished, urban English are often given greater respect and access. Those who speak regional languages or use non-standard English may be viewed as less educated, less capable, or less modern.

The politics of English also appears in education. English-medium schools are frequently seen as superior, while schools that teach in regional languages are often unfairly considered second-rate. As a result, many families feel pressure to prioritize English, sometimes at the cost of preserving their mother tongue and cultural identity.

This pressure can create a difficult dilemma. English can be a path to opportunity, but relying on it too heavily can weaken linguistic diversity. Languages carry histories, values, stories, and ways of thinking. When a language loses prestige, the culture connected to it can also become marginalized.

At the same time, English itself is not the problem. A language is not inherently oppressive. The issue lies in the social structures that give one language more power than others. English becomes political when it is used to decide who sounds “educated,” who is considered “professional,” and who is allowed to speak with authority.

It is also important to recognize that English is no longer owned by one country or one accent. Indian English, Nigerian English, Singaporean English, and many other forms of English are valid expressions of identity and communication. Treating British or American English as the only “correct” standard ignores the rich diversity of English speakers around the world.

A fairer approach would value multilingualism rather than treating English as the sole measure of intelligence or success. People should have the opportunity to learn English because it can be useful, but they should not be made to feel inferior for speaking their own language.

The politics of English reminds us that language is never neutral. It can empower, but it can also exclude. It can connect people across borders, but it can also create barriers within societies.

So the next time we admire someone for speaking fluent English, we should ask ourselves: are we appreciating their communication skills, or are we unconsciously rewarding a language hierarchy?

The answer reveals more than our attitude toward English. It reveals our attitude toward power, privilege, and the many voices that deserve to be heard.