The United States isn’t the first country to wrestle with the idea of enforcing a single national language. In fact, two Asian democracies—India and Sri Lanka—offer cautionary tales about how language policies, when driven by nationalist ideals, can deepen social divides instead of healing them.

In a sweeping move that has sparked fierce debate across the country, President Donald Trump signed an executive order officially declaring English as the national language of the United States. The announcement came on March 1, 2025, along with the removal of the Spanish-language version of the White House website, signaling a renewed push toward what many are calling “linguistic nationalism.”

While supporters hail the decision as a unifying force, critics warn it could divide the nation further by alienating millions of Americans who speak languages other than English.

Why This Order Matters

The new executive order marks a sharp departure from previous language-access policies, notably reversing a Clinton-era rule that required federally funded programmes to offer assistance in multiple languages. Now, while government agencies are allowed to continue offering services in other languages, there’s no longer a mandate to do so. Instead, they’re “encouraged” to promote English proficiency as a gateway to opportunity.

According to the White House, the change is about “strengthening national unity,” claiming that a common language empowers Americans—new and old—to engage more fully in society.

“English is the language of our founding documents, of our shared culture, and of our national success,” President Trump stated in a press release.

The Reality on the Ground

However, the U.S. isn’t exactly a monolingual country. Far from it. According to the latest Census data, over 350 languages are spoken in American homes. Spanish, Chinese, Tagalog, Vietnamese, and Arabic are just a few of the most common.

For many immigrants and ethnic communities, language is more than a tool for communication—it’s a part of their identity. Critics argue that making English the sole official language could marginalise these groups, reduce access to public services like healthcare and education, and ultimately create a more divided society.

“This policy sends a message that some Americans are more ‘American’ than others,” says Dr. Elena Cárdenas, a linguistics and civil rights researcher. “It doesn’t promote unity—it punishes diversity.”

What Other Countries Have Done

The U.S. is one of the few developed nations that has never had an official language—until now. Countries like France and China have long enforced language laws to preserve a national identity. But those policies have come with their own challenges, including the suppression of regional dialects and minority languages.

Meanwhile, nations like Canada and Switzerland have embraced multilingualism. Canada’s bilingual system (English and French) is often credited with strengthening its global trade relationships and social inclusiveness. Switzerland, with four national languages, shows that diversity in language doesn’t have to be a weakness—it can be a strength.

What’s at Stake: Brain functions and human rights

Supporters of the executive order argue that using a single language will make government operations more efficient and encourage immigrants to assimilate. They also point to the fact that more than 30 U.S. states already recognise English as their official language.

But many economists and education experts see it differently. Studies show that being multilingual boosts brain function, increases job opportunities, and improves a country’s ability to compete in global markets. In fact, the European Union operates with 24 official languages and considers linguistic diversity a key part of its economic and diplomatic strategy.

There’s also the legal angle. Critics say removing language-access requirements could violate international human rights agreements, including United Nations guidelines that promote linguistic and cultural inclusion.

A Political Flashpoint

This isn’t the first time language has become a political hot-button. Similar debates have played out in places like Sri Lanka and India, where promoting one language over others led to long-standing social unrest and even violence.

While the U.S. situation is different, the tension is real. Civil rights groups are already exploring legal challenges. Many Spanish-speaking Americans and other minority communities fear losing access to vital information—from disaster alerts to voting instructions—if those services are no longer offered in their native languages.

“This policy doesn’t build bridges—it builds walls,” said Congressman Luis Gutierrez. “It’s less about language and more about whose voices get heard.”

Sri Lanka: A Language That Sparked a Civil War

In 1956, Sri Lanka passed the Sinhala Only Act, which made Sinhala the sole official language of the country. This law was pushed by nationalist Sinhalese politicians to assert cultural dominance in a newly independent nation. But in doing so, it marginalised Tamil-speaking minorities—many of whom had lived in the country for generations.

The consequences were far-reaching and tragic. Tamil communities were excluded from government jobs, education, and public services. Over time, this linguistic injustice fueled ethnic tensions that escalated into a brutal civil war lasting nearly 30 years. Many experts and historians point to the Sinhala Only Act as a key trigger for the conflict. In short, language policy turned into a weapon of division rather than a tool of unity.

India: A Nation United in Diversity—But Not Without Tensions

India, too, has had its struggles with language politics. After independence in 1947, leaders attempted to make Hindi the sole official language. But this move met strong resistance, especially from southern states where people speak Dravidian languages like Tamil, Telugu, and Kannada.

To prevent further unrest, the Indian government compromised by keeping English as an additional associate official language, alongside Hindi. Today, India recognises 22 official languages and supports many regional tongues. While tensions over language still flare up occasionally, the country has largely managed to celebrate its linguistic diversity rather than suppress it.

These international examples show us what can happen when language policies ignore the lived realities of multilingual societies. Instead of creating a shared sense of belonging, such policies can end up deepening divides—whether ethnic, regional, or cultural.

To understand the risks, look no further than Sri Lanka—a country whose well-intentioned language policy in 1956 led not to unity, but to decades of violence.

Sri Lanka: When Language Laws Divide Instead of Unite

In the aftermath of independence, Sri Lanka’s government passed the Sinhala Only Act, making Sinhala the exclusive official language of administration, law, and education. While meant to assert sovereignty and majority identity, it alienated Tamil-speaking minorities who had been integral to the nation’s social fabric.

The Tamil population faced systemic exclusion: they lost access to public sector jobs, university admissions, and government services. Peaceful protests were met with repression, and what began as a linguistic grievance eventually transformed into an armed ethnic conflict. By the early 1980s, Sri Lanka was in the grip of a full-blown civil war, one of the longest and bloodiest in Asia. Historians widely agree: the Sinhala Only policy didn’t just fail to unite Sri Lanka—it fractured it. The country is still healing from the scars today.

India: Diversity Managed Through Inclusion, Not Imposition

In contrast, neighbouring India avoided such a fate by adopting a more pluralistic approach. Though Hindi was promoted as a national language, protests—particularly from Tamil Nadu—led the central government to compromise. Today, India recognizes 22 official languages, with both Hindi and English used at the national level, and regional languages thriving within states.

While not without tensions, India’s inclusive linguistic framework has helped preserve national unity in a country of over 1.4 billion people and extraordinary linguistic diversity.

Conclusion

The ongoing debate in the United States over making English the sole official language may appear as a patriotic initiative aimed at fostering unity. However, history offers a cautionary tale. In 1956, Sri Lanka introduced the “Sinhala Only Act,” effectively excluding the Tamil-speaking minority from state affairs, education, and employment. Rather than uniting the nation, this policy sowed deep resentment, ultimately contributing to a devastating civil war that lasted nearly three decades and claimed over 100,000 lives. The lesson is clear: language is not merely a means of communication—it is a symbol of identity, dignity, and inclusion.

Today, India recognises 22 official languages and uses English as a neutral bridge, managing to maintain unity within diversity despite significant challenges. The Indian experience demonstrates that pluralism, though messy, can be a powerful safeguard against social fragmentation.

As the U.S. contemplates linguistic policy, it must recognise the complex emotional and political weight language carries. In a nation where communities speak hundreds of languages and dialects, enforcing a single linguistic identity risk marginalising entire populations and undermining social cohesion. Rather than repeating historical mistakes, the U.S. has the opportunity to lead by example—building unity not through exclusion, but through recognition and respect for its linguistic and cultural mosaic.

The lesson for the U.S.? Imposing a one-language-fits-all policy may seem like a path to national unity, but it risks alienating communities and undermining the very cohesion it aims to promote. As history shows, true unity often lies in embracing diversity—not erasing it.

(The writer, a senior Chartered Accountant and professional banker, is Professor at SLIIT , Malabe. He is also the author of the “Doing Social Research and Publishing Results”, a Springer publication (Singapore), and “Samaja Gaveshakaya (in Sinhala). The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the institution he works for. He can be contacted at saliya.a@slit.lk and www.researcher.com)