Arabic: language and education

There has been much uproar about the government’s emphasis on imposing policies that would make the study of Arabic a much more significant part of the curriculum. So, should we study Arabic? It depends — it depends on who is asking the question and for whom. The teaching of a foreign language, albeit one tied to our national and religious identity, is naturally a partisan issue, with vociferous adherents on either side, who make it an either or problem. People certainly have strong opinions on the issue; some see it as a religious obligation, some see it as an attack on secular education; both are often coloured by thin logics that avoid first order issues at stake. There is nothing intrinsically wrong about teaching Arabic or any other language. Persian comes to mind as another language that may be introduced institutionally to heal our ties, cultural and social, with the Iranian world. If we remember, South Asia was once a major centre for Persian. There was a point in time that India, not Iran, was the epicentre of Persian literary activity. In fact, prioritising Arabic or Persian over any other foreign language probably makes more sense in our cultural context. However, there are fundamental problems with how the debate is playing out. Firstly, there are critical issues with how the state wants to hammer down injunctions on society as complex as ours in the form of monolithic curriculums. Secondly, it is claimed by opponents of the policy that such a step negatively affects educational outcomes for students across all levels without any compelling evidence. Both pontificate on the specifics but ignore principal problems like very nature of mass education systems and how they affect our economic and social circulations.

Implementing models based on the Prussian model, meant to control and inject conformity into societies birthed through industrial capitalism, is not working — both due to our less than stellar implementation of them and their inherent flaws. Our educational outcomes are abysmal by any metric. Contrary to belief, more of the same education will continue aggravating inequality across different domains. We are caught in what Cristina Groeger calls the “education trap” — more education, worse results. While educational institutes across all levels keep popping up across the map, the quality of instruction is sub-par and outcomes tend to further alienate students across class lines. In such a context, implementing foreign language teaching, regardless of intentions, is not a simplistic either-or problem.

As a student of Arabic for some years now, I understand the importance of this language. Yet, if the government wishes to truly go beyond vapid political point scoring by instrumentalising religion, it would be better served to invest in dedicated institutes that promote the liberal arts as a model of education. In doing so, proper language training will follow naturally, and by proper, I mean instruction that is grounded in sound pedagogical methods. Rather than harnessing the creative potential of language, the state intends to deploy it as a tool to appease domestic religious sensibilities and to achieve utilitarian outcomes in the form of exported labour to the Middle East. This is blatant disrespect for the sanctity of language as gateway to divinity and as an endeavour to facilitate human excellence.

Be it at the primary, secondary, or tertiary level, education must come with choice. Forceful imposition of monolithic models of teaching is a modern phenomenon; the nation-state survives through the creation of citizen-subjects, ones formed in the thoroughly disciplined walls of the classroom. This is not to say that alternate arrangements were not disciplinary, they were and still are, but their logics are different and, arguably, less coercive.

Arabic is a highly technical language, much more so than other major languages; properly acquiring the finer points of its grammar can take many years. This task is not suited to our current regimes of schooling, where outcomes are bound to be lacklustre. Some of our madrassas continue to produce Arabic teachers that are very proficient in the language. Yet, more can be done. Modern South Asia has suffered with regards to the teaching of the Arabic language. Historically, except for Indian religious institutes like the Nadwatul Ulama among a few others, the standards for the teaching of Arabic have stagnated or deteriorated over time. If the state does wish to promote the Arabic language, it would do well to endow existing religious institutes whose curriculums are based on Arabic. Meanwhile, not recognising the role that madrassas have played in preserving the Arabic language in the sub-continent would be a disservice. While I understand the impulse to secularise language learning, in the way we might study French or German, Arabic cannot be detached from the Islamic tradition. To learn this language is to not only enter a world animated by Arab customs and literary culture but also a rich religious tradition spanning fourteen centuries. Major sciences of this tradition like law, theology, mysticism, grammar or exegesis retain in themselves a vast repository of human knowledge.

While one may justifiably be a proponent of Arabic instruction, we would still do well to be wary of the raison d’etre for policies that would make their teaching obligatory. Introducing Arabic more substantially into the curriculum remains a problem in terms of its outcomes, intentions, and intended goals, but it is not an inherent bad. Proponents and opponents of the infusion of Arabic into schooling would do well to not to confuse proselytising with the potential of language and grammar to be an emancipatory force for mobilising creativity, with the latter being what we should aim for. In any case, we would do well to remind ourselves that even eminent Islamic thinkers of the past, those now considered as “secular” by opponents of such educational policies, would often begin their great works by a dedication to God: knowledge was directed towards heaven, not towards an aimless road to abstract notions of human “progress”. We should always ask the very simple question: Whose progress?

So, should we study Arabic? Well, it depends. Children would ideally benefit from a basic knowledge of its morphology and syntax, but beyond that, let us not insist that every child needs be a language maestro. If they show the inkling and potential to learn more, the state would do well to facilitate the promotion of the language in specialised institutes and to assist — through endowments — religious institutes that may be struggling to retain talented teachers. However, this cannot be an intervention. These institutes and madrassas must retain the right to shape their curriculum in the way they see fit. As far as I am concerned, the only role the state can play is that of a facilitator; it cannot impose unilaterally developed policies; people can decide what they want to learn. I am not suggesting they will make this decision with full agency, neither am I suggesting that such is even possible, but what I am suggesting is that even if they are restricted in their choices — by context, structure, or personal impediments — they must make these decisions.

Published in The Express Tribune, February 12^th, 2022.

Like Opinion & Editorial on Facebook, follow @ETOpEd on Twitter to receive all updates on all our daily pieces.