Open Letter to Advisory Committee on Medium of Instruction

           This letter is pursuant to an email that was dispatched to the Advisory Committee on Medium of Instruction on 12 October, 2013. Before we proceed, however, we would like to laud the decision of the Committee to open the debate on education in Goa to public consultation in a systematic manner. We believe that this bodes well not only for the discussion on the Medium of Instruction (MoI), but as a precedent for future dialogue on such matters that may occur in our society. Having said this, however, we would also like to state that this exercise can seem token if invitations for comment do not provide a longer period for the public to submit their statements. This would enable members of the public, and especially academicians and professionals, to place appropriately researched arguments before the committee. We therefore strongly recommend reasonable periods of time in future consultative initiatives.

           Our recommendations with regard to the MoI, as made in the email mentioned above, were as follows: first, that the Advisory Committee recognise the Constitutional right of those being educated to determine the medium of instruction that best serves their circumstances; second, that both English and Konkani in the Roman script be recognised as state-supported MoI; and third, that rather than seeing the MoI as a resolution of the complex social problems faced by our society, more sensitive pedagogies that recognise the reality of language uses be adopted. We explain these in more detail below.

Mother Tongue: A Discredited Concept

Presently, the entire MoI debate rests on the uncritical acceptance of the substantially discredited idea of the ‘mother tongue’. What is misrepresented by the adoption of this concept is the reality that many societies, South Asian included, are marked by multilingualism where people generally speak more than one language, the choice of which depends on the context. The same is true in Goa. Thus, a person may speak Konkani at home, Marathi at a political meeting or cultural programme, and English in the office. And this is not all, for within a single language, there are multiple forms, similarly context-specific and tied to the particular communicative function. For example, a tiatrist may speak a variant of Konkani particular to his social (i.e. caste and regional) location at home, but will speak Bardezi among his peers, and perhaps attempt literary Konkani as promoted by the Nagri Konkani protagonists when meeting with the same.

The MoI scheme in Goa that attempts to instil one language (either Konkani or Marathi) and one dialect (Antruzi in Konkani, along with the Puneri adopted by the Maharashtra government for Marathi), officially and through the education system, is problematic. Because, in doing so, it ignores the multilingualism that is an integral part of our society and homes. Imposing literary and generally upper caste forms of the language on students at the start of their curricular formation does more than undermine vernacular forms of language; it causes intense emotional and socio-cultural dysfunction. The process of learning when to use a particular language or language-form is a critical part of the process of self-formation. It is for this reason that educationists across the world have insisted on the utility of preliminary education being imparted, not in a ‘mother tongue’ but in a ‘functionally dominant language’. The latter is the language form that the learner and her or his immediate milieu is most familiar with. Thereupon, to have a literary form of the language that is deemed to be a ‘mother tongue’ thrust on the learner as the standard form can be profoundly destructive of the sense of self of those learners whose family form finds no resonance in this standard form. Clearly, therefore, the problem is not merely about MoI, but also about inflexible pedagogies and a misunderstanding of the reality of language uses and practices. Indeed, the tragedy is that rather than focus on the critical issue of the pedagogies that are used in the classroom, the debate in Goa has been diverted to the highly specious issue of MoI. We recommend that, regardless of the MoI, classroom practice be marked by multilingualism. Thus, the practices where English medium schools penalize the usage of vernacular languages is as much a problem as the imposition of an alien Konkani on students. Such practices contribute to imperfect learning and, in the case of vernacular languages, contribute to language loss.  

The People’s Linguistic Survey of India has recently found that India lost 200 languages in the last 50 years. The most comprehensive survey to have been conducted in the last 80 years, it suggests that there is a need to “[maintain] organic links between scholarship and the social context.” The current modus, especially with regard to the Konkani language, which imposes an alien dialect of the dominant castes on initial learners, is bound to contribute to the alarming trend of diminishing language diversity as cited by this survey. As pointed out earlier, this complicates the voluntary adoption of Konkani. Indeed, a class and caste sensitive reading of the controversy that is briefly discussed below reveals that it is precisely the imposition of an alien form of Konkani on the population (a population that would have normally opted for education in Konkani) that is partly responsible for the demand for English as a state-supported MoI.

 Rather than sticking to the rigid delineation of the MoI as the only way to resolve the problem, one way out of this conundrum would be providing for the use and instruction of diverse languages and scripts, including Konkani in the Roman script. This option would allow for the preservation and growth of cultural and linguistic traditions. In turn, this supports the development of the Arts, which are often underrepresented in the curriculum. Goa’s literary traditions are rich and diverse, and include the Tiatr which has been instrumental in keeping Konkani alive and vibrant. Though we propose that students at primary levels be given instruction in those language-forms most familiar to them, we additionally recommend that the study of Konkani literature as it is expressed in Goan literary traditions like the Tiatr be introduced into the curriculum at the appropriate time. The Tiatr differs significantly from other literary traditions in Goa by employing dialects and accents that find common usage, so the study of such cultural productions actually helps young learners see the connections between language and the arts. Identifying linkages between culture and language through education bridges society and academia. In this way, vernacular languages would not necessarily be under threat from education in English.

The Insidious Agenda

While the MoI debate superficially appears to be a secular one about the support for ‘mother tongues’ and Indian languages, at the heart of its rhetoric lies the attempt to discipline or even suppress the aspirations of working class and lower caste Catholics and Hindus, i.e. the Goan bahujan samaj. Thus, the attempt is being made by the so-called Konkani protagonists to force Catholics towards an alien form of the Konkani language, and by the leaders of the Hindu bahujan samaj to restrict lower caste Hindus to education in Marathi alone. A very plausible suggestion has been made that the votaries of the Marathi language as a state-supported MoI are motivated by the fear that allowing for English will spell doom to the Marathi language schools that they run. The fear of Konkani-Marathi has often been used to fuel mutual distrust between the Catholic and Hindu bahujan samaj, and prevent their unity on crucial other issues. Not only are such strategies morally reprehensible, they are also violations of constitutionally guaranteed minority rights.

            

          Furthermore, the demand for English as a state-supported MoI should not be seen as one made merely to suit ‘Catholic interests’. It would be grossly erroneous to see the Catholics in Goa as a monolithic community. Indeed, the multiple opinions vis-à-vis the issue of the MoI is demonstrative of the substantial class-caste differences and interests that divide Catholics in the state.

What is also deeply disturbing is the manner in which the Catholic-led demand for the inclusion of English as a state-supported MoI has been branded by certain sections as anti-national, thus prohibiting any attempt to look at the reason for the demand. There is also the repeated argument that the inclusion of English will destroy both the Marathi and Konkani languages in Goa. The situation may in fact be much more complex. For example, education in English in the colonial period did not prevent Goans from learning Konkani, nor did it prevent them from composing the prose, poetry, lyrics and music for which the Konkani language is famed not only in Goa, but around the world. Indeed, we would argue that it is precisely the imposition of education in a variant of a language that is not part of their repertoire that is causing the flight away from Konkani language schools in particular. The future of Marathi is similarly secure given that it is associated with a vibrant cultural tradition, and even forms part of the substantial anti-brahmin movement in Goa. This latter movement is far from dead and thus continues to spur the learning of the Marathi language. In any case, regardless of the MoI, these languages will be introduced to students at higher level classes under the three language formula of the education system in Goa.

            

           Many people in Goa choose to be educated in English for practical purposes. It allows them to avail of higher chances for employment, not merely in Goa, but across the world. A good portion of the Goan population gains employment through migration. Given that Goa benefits from the foreign exchange remitted by those that work beyond India’s borders, and also that it is the Constitutional obligation of the State to support citizens in their endeavours, the government must support these attempts at ensuring future employability.

Looking at the issue from the level of politics, any decision of the Government of Goa to restrict the grant of aid to only schools that provide education in Marathi or Konkani in the Nagri script would be violative of the fundamental rights of children and their parents.

Recommendations

In light of the discussions above, we reiterate our recommendations as follows:

(1)                             That the Advisory Committee recognise the Constitutional right of those being educated to determine the medium of instruction that best serves their circumstances;

(2)                             That both English and Konkani in the Roman script be recognised as state-supported MoI; and 

(3)                  That rather than seeing the MoI as a resolution of the complex social problems faced by our society, more sensitive pedagogies that recognise the reality of language uses be adopted. 

(Subsequent to delivery to the presentation of this open letter to the Advisory Committee, this open letter was published in the edition of Goa Today dated November 2013.

This letter was written in association with 9 others who are listed below)

About the Signatories

Jason Keith Fernandes trained as a lawyer and anthropologist, and is interested in social policy.

R. Benedito Ferrão is a writer and educator whose academic focus is Goa and the diaspora.

Albertina Almeida is a lawyer and human rights activist.

Amita Kanekar is a teacher and writer.

Dale Luis Menezes studies medieval history at JNU, New Delhi.

Anjali Arondekar is Associate Professor of Feminist Studies at the University of California, Santa Cruz.

Nandita de Souza is a developmental pediatrician at the Sethu Centre for Child Development & Family Guidance, Panaji.

Anibel Ferus-Comelo is a parent, educator and policy analyst.

Sujata Noronha is an educator with a focus on Early Literacy and Children's Literature.

Chrissie D’Costa is an English language teacher and trainer.

 

The academic, economic and emotional politics of Konkani

To,

The Editor,

Navhind Times.

We write this letter to indicate that we found the article “Konkani Bhasha: Its Academic, Economic and Emotional Viability”, that appeared in your newspaper on 17 Aug 2013, lacking in terms of conveying the real story regarding the health of the Konkani language.

This article which ostensibly discusses the future development and status of Konkani, including the forces that work for the strengthening of the language, has nowhere, not even once, made a mention of the Roman script, nor of the cultural and literary productions in that script, nor of the institutions engaged in giving the script and its productions new life. Allow us, therefore, to present an alternative narrative about the academic, economic and emotional politics of the Konkani language.

The article commences with a paean to Shenoi Goembab (Varde Valaulikar), in an attempt to situate him as the origin of the literary development of the Konkani language. While there can be no doubt regarding Varde Valaulikar’s contributions to Konkani literature, it should not be forgotten that he was but one of the many supporters of the language and cultural production in it. Notably, while the article makes a case that it is just a small segment of the Konkani-speaking population that is attempting to safeguard the language, reality is entirely to the contrary. The Konkani language acquired its first mass base largely through, but not restricted to, the literary efforts of working class Goan Catholic migrants in Bombay, and the simultaneous articulations of the language on the stage through the associated arts of Tiatr and Cantaram. Tragically however, this literary tradition has been stifled by the policies followed by the official Konkani language establishment since the adoption of the Official Language Act of the State. Nevertheless, Konkani continues to thrive via Tiatr and Cantaram, not merely in the State, but in various parts of the country, most notably Bombay, as well as globally, once again in places where Goan Catholics have migrated in search of employment. Tiatr shows, festivals and competitions receive widespread public patronage and run houseful on a regular basis, in towns as well as villages of Goa. So popular are these performances that it has also led to a thriving business in the sale of CDs and DVDs of these shows. While on the topic of the cultural productions of the Roman script, allow us to highlight the contribution of Romans (Konkani language novels in the Roman script) writers to Konkani literature, amongst whom Reginald Fernandes was the most towering figure, and is believed to have written over 200 books.

Also worth mentioning is the role played by the Konkani language establishment, especially the Goa Konkani Akademi (GKA), in stifling the Konkani language as embodied in the Roman script, and the dialects other than the Antruzi variant identified with, and claimed by, the Saraswat caste.  The GKA has since inception been formed largely by members of the Saraswat caste, and caste-groups and individuals allied with this caste. If anything, this only further contributes to the limited narrative that the article proffers about Konkani and its alleged proponents.

The article quotes Pundalik Naik speaking of the apparently uphill battle that the GKA has waged to raise Konkani to this dubious level of merit. What is not highlighted is the perhaps grimmer battle that this institution and its allied partners have waged against persons writing in the Roman script. Whether in the Kala Academy or the GKA, contributions in the Roman script used to be rejected for competitions, on the basis that Devanagari alone was the official script, and hence the Roman script could not be recognised. As if to add insult to injury, subsequent to these discriminatory rejections, and clearly without reading these works, submissions in the Roman script were routinely dismissed as “lacking in standard”. Rather than attempt to support litterateurs who used the Roman script to achieve these levels of standard, these persons were starved of state support, as they were forced to work in Devanagari and the Antruzi dialect exclusively. With official Konkani’s highly sanskritised form and rejection of Konkani history, we would like to highlight that this was akin to requiring Hindi litterateurs to write in English! Myopic measures of this nature are precisely what have curtailed the growth of literary traditions when, in fact, the rich diversity of Konkani in its many scripts and dialects should be lauded for the fertile possibilities they allow for multifarious growth. The Kala Academy, however, thankfully appears to be changing its policy, as obvious from a recent notice dated Aug 27, 2003, that it has extended the scope of its annual literary awards to include works in Konkani in Devanagari as well as Roman scripts.

Furthermore, the official guardians of the culture of the State systematically went out of their way to ridicule Tiatr suggesting that it similarly lacked standard. This, despite the fact that reputed scholars like Pramod Kale, Rowena Robinson, and Goa University’s Rafael Fernandes have recognised the dynamism of the tiatr form.

The story of Konkani since Liberation, and especially since the adoption of the Official Language Act, has therefore been a history of the destruction of an organic and vibrant language in order to prop up the artificial language dreamed up by a small segment of the Goan polity, more obsessed with Brahmanical purity and pedigree than the health of a polity and a language. Not only does this serve to limit literary and linguistic possibilities based on caste and class, but it also undercuts avenues of growth outside of the limited imagination prescribed by such intention.

To its credit, the essay does refer to the Chief Minister indicating that “it is important that we include various dialects in our writing.” However, this stray phrase would not make much sense to a reader unfamiliar with the quiet but intense battles being conducted behind closed doors. Further, this recognition by the Chief Minister has come about as a result of intense efforts not only to reviving organic Konkani, but also to give it political recognition. Yeoman service in this regard has been rendered by the Dalgado Konknni Akademi, Romi Lipi Action Front, and the Tiatr Academy of Goa, three multisectarian fora that have acknowledged the problems that have been caused by the exclusionary strategies of the official Konkani language establishment. As a result of their efforts, one can notice a certain renaissance as artistes long starved of state support now have a sense that their language is not something to be ashamed of, but one they can be both proud of and productive within.

We would also like to point out that the whole idea of a single “mother tongue” has been severely criticised in more recent scholarship, pointing to the fact that the real geographies of any language are much more complex. Indeed, it has been the insistence on colonial, racist, and out-dated notions of a single mother tongue that has resulted in the complicated tensions between those who prefer to use Marathi as public language, and those who prefer to use Konkani, and the wicked suggestion that the demand that state support be offered to schools that provide primary education in the English language is anti-national.

Giving that these essential facts were missing from the article, we believe it risks misrepresenting the complexity of the Konkani language in Goa. As such, we would appreciate it if the editor gave prominent space to this letter as a way of recognising the diversity of the Konkani language, and especially the presence of the Roman script, and non-Antruzi dialects.

Jason Keith Fernandes, Taleigāo – Goa

Dale Luis Menezes, JNU Delhi/ Quepem – Goa

R. BeneditoFerrão, Porvorim – Goa

(A version of this letter was first published in the Navhind Times, in the My Take section, on 2 Sept 2013)

Konkani and the Silence of the Goan Catholic: The Concanim Series

There was a commotion in Cyberia a couple of weeks ago, around some of the observations made by Adv. Uday Bhembre in the course of an interview. The statement that caused so much of consternation was made in explanation of why Adv. Bhembre opposes grants-in-aid to schools that impart primary education in English. To give a sense of what irked the cyber-Goemcars, the statement by Adv. Bhembre is extracted in some length below.

“Let me narrate to you a glaring incident that happened in my life. When I was the Independent MLA of Margao in 1985-89, I was invited by the Grace Church Parish to speak to the youth on Culture. The audience comprised of young boys between 20 to 25 years of age, to my surprise there were no girls. I don't know. The three preceding speakers spoke in English and I spoke in Konkani. During the question and answer session the Priest requested them to ask questions, I too requested them. But they did not respond, later the priest told me that if I had spoken in English perhaps they would have understood. Then I asked him (priest) why they did not understand. “They did not understand because you spoke in Konkani and not English”, the priest replied. It was all the more astonishing that all of these youth were Goans and did not understand or might not want to speak in Konkani. And if that was situation in 1988 what would it be now? So that kind of a situation is bound to develop according to me if English is encouraged at primary level itself in Goa."

Adv. Bhembre is perhaps not the first person to face this strange situation, given the two other similar situations this column will narrate, but perhaps he (and the friendly parish priest) may have misinterpreted the situation they faced.

The first of the situations took place in a training session for rookie ‘announcers’ for the AIR. The crowd was largely English speaking and faced with a Konkani speaking staff member of the radio station. The session was a nightmare though, for not a single question presented by the trainer drew a response from the audience. It seemed as if the explanation articulated by Adv. Bhembre, would have held good here as well, a crowd of young Goans, brought up to be English speaking, and yet unable to speak in Konkani.

Subsequent to the training session, asking one of the members of the audience if it was the case that she did not speak or understand Konkani, drew a fierce response. ‘Ofcourse not!’ she responded, opening her eyes wide. ‘I sing in Konkani, I do the readings in Church, I can manage quite well in Konkani. But his (referring to the trainer) Konkani is different no?’

This response affirmed the capacity of the silent audience to speak and understand Konkani, but it provided no reason as to why, because there were two different Konkanis in operation, the response of one of the Konkani speakers should be silence. This reason was provided in another conversation, this time round with a Catholic priest. In the course of our conversations around Konknai, this priest indicated a strong friendship he enjoyed with a Hindu gentleman. At one point however, the priest recounted that he was reproached by his friend; ‘Why is it that you never speak to me in Konkani’ the friend asked. To this question the priest responded that he felt ashamed, since his friend’s Konkani was so perfect, so pure, whereas his own was the ‘impure’ version that the Catholics speak.

This deep-rooted sense of inferiority of their version of Konkani is the reason for this silence among vast sections of the Konkani-speaking Catholic population in Goa. This sense of inferiority is not the result only of the dominance of the Antruzi variant since the legislation of the Official Language Act in 1987. The hierarchy that privileges Antruzi is the result of larger theoretical understandings that have been deeply grounding in society, since they came into operation since the nineteenth century, though to be sure these understandings have been underlined by teachings in school since 1987.

This silence is not a uniquely Goan phenomenon however. This response in silence has famously been highlighted by the French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu in his exploration of the power dynamics among dialects within France and their relationship with ‘official French’. Bourdieu points out that as a result of the active diminishing of the legitimacy of other variants of the language, and the stress of auto-correction that persons who do not naturally possess a facility with the official variant encounter, there is a tendency of working-class children to eliminate themselves from the educational system, or to resign themselves to vocational courses and training. He also pointed out to the unease and ‘the hesitation leading to silence’, which may overcome individuals from lower-class backgrounds on occasions defined as official.

The silence among Adv. Bhembre’s audience is not therefore the result of not knowing Konkani, but of the shame that has been drilled into Catholic society (not least by their own intellectuals from the nineteenth century on) that the Konkani that they speak is not proper Konkani. This logic is not limited only to those sections of the pro-Konkani world that favour Antruzi as the finest form of spoken Konkani. Take for example the spelling of the Thomas Stephens Konknni Kendr, which seems to replicate the Sanskritized sounds of Antruzi, rather than the broader sounds typical to the Concanim spoken among Catholics in Goa. From Bourdieu’s work it would appear that introduction of the ‘official variant’ into schooling compound the problem, since it provides a systemic production of this shame. From this logic, it would appear therefore that rather than addressing the problem Adv. Bhembre mistakenly perceived; schooling in Konkani is one of the systemic forms of perpetrating the shame and driving more and more young people away from Konkani. The solution that Adv. Bhembre seeks therefore, may come from routes other than the compulsory education in a language form that many students do not in fact identify with.

The provision of solutions to Adv. Bhembre’s pickle is not the purpose of this column. The purpose of this column was to stress that there are multiple ways in which silence can be read. Silence is not always a sign of stupidity or a lack of knowledge. Silence can be the mark of shame, or unease, or equally of disobedience. The silence in response to Konkani speakers among Concanim speaking audiences could very well be one among these many reasons. Indeed, we can safely say that it is not one of either stupidity or lack of knowledge.

(A version of the post was first published in the Gomantak Times 31 Aug 2011)