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)

The dates May 18-19 highlight a continuing divide in the country with few willing to look at the losses on the other side though they were all Sri Lankans. These two days in particular surface the uncomfortable truth that the country’s people have different memories, including the manner in which the three-decade long war ended. The Tamil people have commemorated May 18 as the day on which many of them, including LTTE members, were killed and the war was lost. This year there were commemorations in different parts of the country, including in Colombo. It was not only Tamils who commemorated their loved ones on May 18. Sinhalese did so too at ceremonies they organised. They were all sorrowful occasions. The government commemorated May 19 at the War Heroes Memorial near Parliament, remembering both the victory that was won and the members of the security forces who were killed with President Anura Kumara Dissanayake in attendance.

More often than not, there has been tension on these days, with large numbers of security forces deployed especially in the former war zones of the north and east. Both the Tamil people within the country and in the diaspora, along with the Western international community believe that large scale human rights violations and war crimes took place on those days. The government would be concerned at the decline in support it received from the voters in the north and east and not wish to add to that decline. Initially, it was reported that the President would not attend the Victory Day ceremony on May 19. But election results indicate that translating electoral support into governance requires more than symbolic gestures such as attending or not attending a commemoration event. The fact that Tamil people felt they could attend the memorial events in large numbers is evidence that the country is changing in the direction of reconciliation.

State institutions have cooperated in this process in creating a conducive climate for memorialisation. The Human Rights Commission of Sri Lanka wrote to the Inspector General of Police requesting him to instruct all policemen to permit the May 18 commemorations to take place undisturbed. They pointed out that on past occasions, even when the government gave permission for the May 18 commemorations the security forces arrested people citing violations of the law. In its missive to the police, the Human Rights Commission stated that it “is of the view that peaceful acts of commemoration and the distribution of food items cannot be considered forms of incitement to discrimination, hostility, or violence, and are protected under the right to the freedom of speech and expression guaranteed under article 14(1)(a) of the Sri Lankan Constitution”. This time around the police appeared to have followed this instruction in the spirit it was meant.

Early Warning

There are indications that the government is rethinking its approach towards the dissatisfied ethnic and religious minorities. The results of the recent local government elections in Sri Lanka’s north and east are an early warning of minority discontent with the government that it cannot afford to dismiss. In a country that has experienced deep ethnic fault lines, the success of Tamil and Muslim parties in these areas is a signal that minority communities are not convinced the government is prioritising their concerns. These electoral outcomes have revealed what lies beneath the surface: a persistence of unaddressed grievances and distinct aspirations that have not been adequately engaged by the NPP government. If the government is to maintain the legitimacy of its reform agenda and translate electoral gains into lasting stability, it must find answers to these problems of the minorities sooner rather than later.

The minorities of the north and east share common ground with communities in the rest of the country including the ethnic Sinhalese majority. These include poverty, lack of development, inadequate access to economic resources, and frustration with entrenched corruption. However, the ethnic and religious minorities also carry burdens specific to their historical and political context, problems the ethnic majority does not face. These include the military occupation of civilian lands, unresolved cases of missing persons, prolonged detentions without charge or trial under the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA), and a long-standing demand for regional self-rule.

In the face of these long continuing problems, taking the position that all people are equal and will be treated equally, as frequently stated by government leaders would be inadequate in itself. The persistence of these issues has deepened distrust, and the government’s cautious, often opaque, approach has done little to reassure affected communities. The NPP’s emphasis on equity in development and equal rights resonates in theory, but its real test lies in addressing the unique challenges that minority communities face. Repealing the PTA must be at the top of the list. Its repeal would be a powerful gesture of goodwill and an important policy shift that minorities (and international community) would take seriously.

The repeal of the PTA would also lead to release of many prisoners who have been incarcerated under this draconian law, first brought into the statute books in 1979 as a temporary measure for only six months but which has legitimised prolonged detention for over four decades under different governments. It also allows confessions obtained by security forces to be admissible in court though courts have also rejected these confessions or been careful in admitting them as evidence. Its continued existence is incompatible with the government’s commitment to human rights and democracy. It is another cause of grievance to the Tamil people. An NPP-led repeal of the PTA would mark a major shift toward democratic reform and human rights, aligning Sri Lanka with global norms and advancing lasting peace and reconciliation.

Potent Appeals

The release of land under military occupation would be another priority. The Jaffna District Secretary has confirmed that notwithstanding repeated assurances from successive governments, more than 2,500 acres of Tamil-owned land in Jaffna remain occupied by Sri Lanka’s military, navy, air force, and police, nearly 16 years after the end of the armed conflict. The return of these lands is not only a matter of justice but also of practical importance to displaced families seeking to rebuild their lives. The government has both the authority and the opportunity to address this without delay. It is unfortunate that on the contrary the government has published a notice that lands unclaimed in the north will be taken over by the government unless claimed in three months. The three-month time frame is very short, giving rise to surmise as to why this is and whether it is another land grab by the state, as those lands have been inaccessible to the people for decades, and some have left the country and others are no longer amongst the living.

Provincial council elections are similarly a priority and need to be held without further delay. One of the shortcomings of the present government has been the lack of minority voices in national policy-making and key appointments. Elected provincial councils can make up for this void especially if the central government enters into engagements with them as partners rather than as rivals. The repeated deferral of these elections, now overdue for more than six years, has undermined the promise of devolution, and thereby the sharing of power, and stoked resentment.

The 13th Amendment, which remains the constitutional basis for power-sharing, cannot be meaningfully implemented without functioning provincial councils. The government must ensure that these elections are held without delay, and that steps are taken to revitalise and empower provincial governance structures. It needs to fully implement the 13th Amendment, which means devolving police and land powers, instead of undermining adherence to the constitution by not implementing a part of it at its discretion as successive governments have done.

So far, it appears that the government’s strategy is one which envisions a national policy on reconciliation being drafted afresh before being debated in Parliament with the aim of consensual endorsement. It reflects a desire to move forward under the guidance of expert committees which will take a considerable amount of time. But the minority communities have waited many years for answers. They have no faith in lengthy deliberations such as All Party Conferences and Commissions of Inquiry that drag on for years and end up in file cupboards. Linking their implementation to the uncertainties of parliamentary consensus in a highly polarised environment amounts to deferral by design. The government needs to make use of the 2/3 parliamentary majority that the people, including in the north and east, gave it six months ago and act today.

by Jehan Perera

Ninth May, 2025, marked 80 years since the Soviet Red Army defeated Nazi Germany.

Of all the allied powers, the Soviet Union paid the highest price in the war against Nazism and Fascism – 27 million Soviet citizens were killed, including every second member of the Communist Party. In the occupied territories of the USSR, around 1.5 million children were exterminated by the Nazis. War does not stop at destroying living labour – around 73,000 Soviet settlements were razed and 32,000 enterprises destroyed during the Nazi onslaught.

The scale of the atrocity is numbing to read, even today.

Significantly, the red flag raised over the Reichstag also signalled the disintegration of the classical colonial system. The weakening of European colonial powers during the war and the subsequent moral prestige of socialism in the Third World enabled the sequence of national liberation struggles that ensued in the coming decades.

It is no surprise that the historic Bandung Conference, which sparked the non-aligned movement and the Third World project, occurred almost exactly a decade after the end of the Second World War.

As Sri Lankan communist Pieter Keuneman noted in an essay, “Sri Lanka and the victory over fascism”, penned 40 years ago:

“Victory over fascism has also provided a powerful spur to the democratisation of international relations. It has made it possible for nearly half the world’s population, whom imperialism had excluded from any say in world affairs, to emerge as an independent force that has made—and continues to make—an important and positive contribution to the world-wide fight for peace, disarmament, decolonisation and social progress.”

Not only did the Red Army’s victory open the door for political independence, but the USSR would also, subsequently, play a role in assisting willing partners in achieving a degree of economic independence. While the World Bank sought to veer post-independent Ceylon away from industrial ambitions, Soviet economic assistance included the establishment of a steel factory in Oruwala, a tyre and tube factory in Kelaniya, and a flour mill in Colombo. When the Ceylonese government nationalised oil companies in the 1960s, it was the USSR that broke through the embargo of the TNCs and delivered oil supplies.

Ceylonese Friends of the Soviet Union

During the war, pro-Soviet solidarity work in Ceylon was led mainly by the communists – who had been expelled from the LSSP in 1941. The year 1942, when the Nazis were advancing across the USSR, saw a flurry of publications by the communists in Colombo. Among these were ‘The Soviet Way’ by Pieter Keuneman, ‘Russia Fights Disease’ by S.A. Wickramasinghe, and ‘Under Nazi Rule’ by Hedi Keuneman.

This was done in conditions of censorship of pro-Soviet materials, even though Britain was nominally with the Soviets. Pieter Keuneman recounts that during this time, colonial authorities confiscated his copies of speeches by Soviet leaders while allowing him to keep works by Hitler and Mussolini.

‘The Soviet Way’ was likely the first book to be published in Ceylon that offered a comprehensive view of the Soviet Union, including the conditions which were obtained during Tsarist rule and the adversities and external threats faced by the young USSR.

‘Russia Fights Disease’ described in detail the advance of the Soviet healthcare system. For Wickramasinghe, a doctor by training and a witness to the impact of the malaria epidemic in the 1930s, the Soviet health system was a source of inspiration. It may have also informed his work with Seneka Bibile to establish a rational and sovereign pharmaceutical policy in the 1970s.

‘Under Nazi Rule’ outlined the rise of Nazism in Germany and was dedicated to the German communist leader Ernst Thälmann, who was imprisoned by the Nazis and executed in the Buchenwald concentration camp. The author, Hedi, was born in Vienna and fled to Britain after the Anschluss (annexation of Austria by Germany), where she maintained links with the underground anti-fascist resistance in Germany. This book was published just 18 months after she moved to Ceylon with Pieter.

In 1943, the Ceylon Friends of the Soviet Union was established in order to include broader sections of the intelligentsia. It soon rose to a membership of over 9000. It published the Lanka-Soviet Journal, which was edited by T. Duraisingham and featured contributions from surprising elite figures.

For example, in 1944 SWRD Bandaranaike wrote: “Whether we agree or not with all aspects of the activities of Soviet Russia, no one can deny that within the short space of a quarter of a century an almost unbelievable progress has been made in industry, agriculture, education, health services.”

George E. De Silva wrote: “Today, the Soviet Union has demonstrated to an astonished world what a united people could achieve in defence of freedom and liberty,” adding that “We in Lanka would be better off if we could copy some of the health measures that have been adopted in the Soviet Union.”

Interestingly, even J.R. Jayewardene was a member of the union’s executive committee. In the context of heated debates about reforming the colonial education system, he had written in the journal that “The Soviet educational system should help our legislature to mould its future system too on similar lines.”

Most importantly, the workers in the Ceylon Trade Union Federation, led by M.G. Mendis, also played an enthusiastic role. These workers were organised in the packaging and export of rubber and tea, as well as in the ports. The Lanka-Soviet Journal recalls that “When an order for the Soviet Union came in, the workers, one and all, put in their weight and finished the order in record time.”

In one incident, Tiddy Perera, a unionised worker for Harrison & Crossfield Ltd., was fired by the management in order to weaken the union. However, Perera refused to leave the store as the workers were in the midst of completing an order destined for the USSR. When Perera was told there would be no compensation for the additional work, his reply was, “I will work free for the Soviet Union.”

The Need for a New Peace Movement

Everywhere today we see echoes and shadows of the fascism of the 1930s. The US and the EU have decided that the solution to the present economic crisis will be a form of military Keynesianism. Austerity rules, so harshly enforced on workers in the decades of neoliberalism, are being eased to fill the pockets of the warmongers. According to Stockholm-based SIPRI, world military spending in 2024 rose at the highest rate in four decades. The US-led military bloc, inclusive of NATO and non-NATO military allies, comprises over 74% of world military spending.

But this is not the same conjuncture, and there are crucial differences. The far right of today is, for the most part, more than capable of ruling within the framework of institutions built up in the neoliberal era. Meanwhile, the state of social movements is not what it was in the 1930s, where fascism was also a political response to the surging workers’ movement and the popularity of communism.

The war in Ukraine has been a theatre for the contemporary revival of fascism. Since at least 2014, NATO-aligned forces have been supporting the revival of neo-Nazi groups, banning the local left-wing organisations and waging a genocidal campaign against Russian speakers in the Donbas region.

There are also many underreported wars raging on the African continent, such as in Sudan where 150,000 people have been killed and 13 million displaced, while Arab monarchies, backed by the Global North, jockey for control over resources such as gold. There is also the ongoing destabilisation of the Democratic Republic of Congo, where imperialism acts through regional governments such as Rwanda to facilitate the theft of natural resources necessary for the fourth industrial revolution.

In West Asia, the Israeli genocidal campaign in Gaza has killed over 53,000 people, while the US and its allies continue to provide weaponry and diplomatic cover to the perpetrators. In South Asia, the recent escalations between nuclear-powered India and Pakistan threatens to drag this region further into jingoism and war. In East Asia, the effects of the US-led New Cold War on China, including encirclement of China by military bases, provocation of separatism in Taiwan, and the steady revival of militarism in Japan, all threaten to drag the world into more wars.

Given our own rich history of internationalism and anti-imperialism, Sri Lanka is in a unique position to contribute to a global peace movement to reject new wars, both cold and hot. The history of the solidarity campaigns of the 1940s shows that such campaigns are most successful when they are nurtured from the bottom up, with active participation of the workers, peasants, and intelligentsia. To move in this direction requires immense work, and a break from the narrow bounds of economism and electoralism that have infected many of our social movements and political organisations following the assault on the Left from the 1980s onwards.

(Shiran Illanperuma is a researcher at Tricontinental: Institute for Social Research and a co-editor of Wenhua Zongheng: A Journal of Contemporary Chinese Thought. He is also a co-convenor of the Asia Progress Forum, which can be contacted at asiaprogressforum@gmail.com)

by Shiran Illanperuma