For linguists and language lovers, understanding February 21, 1952, is essential. It is the defining moment that elevated language rights to the status of human rights. This is the story of the Bhasha Andolon (Language Movement) in Dhaka—a tragedy that reshaped the map of South Asia and eventually gave the world a day to celebrate linguistic diversity.
To understand the violence of 1952, we must look at the map of 1947. When British rule in the subcontinent ended, Pakistan was created as a homeland for Muslims, divided into two non-contiguous wings: West Pakistan (present-day Pakistan) and East Pakistan (present-day Bangladesh). These two territories were separated by over 1,000 miles of Indian territory.
Geographically, they were distant. Culturally and linguistically, they were worlds apart.
The seat of power resided in West Pakistan, where the elites spoke Urdu, Punjabi, and Pashto. However, the demographic majority lived in East Pakistan, where the language was Bengali (Bangla). In fact, over 56% of the total population of the newly formed Pakistan spoke Bengali.
Despite this demographic reality, the central government in Karachi viewed Bengali—a language with a rich literary tradition rooted in Sanskrit and shared with Hindu populations in India—with suspicion. They sought to unify the fractured nation under a single linguistic banner.
In linguistics, we often discuss glottophagy (language eating) or linguistic imperialism, where a dominant language suppresses a local one. In 1948, this theory became a government policy. The Governor-General of Pakistan, Muhammad Ali Jinnah, visited Dhaka and declared at a gathering at Dhaka University:
“Let me make it very clear to you that the state language of Pakistan is going to be Urdu and no other language.”
For the students in the crowd, this was an existential threat. It wasn’t just about administrative inconvenience; it was a declaration that their poetry, their songs, their history, and their identity were second-class. Just as linguist Edward Sapir argued that the “real world” is to a large extent unconsciously built up on the language habits of the group, the erasure of Bengali was viewed as an erasure of the Bengali existence.
Tensions simmered for years, fueled by economic disparity and cultural suppression. By early 1952, the “Urdu only” policy was moving toward final legislation. The students of the University of Dhaka had had enough.
Fearing an uprising, the government invoked Section 144 on February 20th, a law prohibiting gatherings of more than four people. The city of Dhaka was effectively put under curfew to silence the dissent.
On the morning of February 21st, students gathered at the university premises. They faced a choice: accept the silence imposed by the state or break the law to speak for their language. They chose the latter.
As the students marched toward the East Bengal Legislative Assembly, chanting “Rashtrabhasha Bangla Chai” (We want Bangla as the state language), the police laid a siege. First came the tear gas. Then came the arrests. And finally, when the students refused to disperse, the police opened fire.
It is a rare event in human history for blood to be spilled specifically over the alphabet. The bullets struck down young men who were armed only with slogans. Among the martyrs of that day and the following day were:
The tragedy sent shockwaves through the region. A temporary monument was erected by students that very night, only to be demolished by police soon after. But the movement could not be demolished. The deaths cemented Bengali nationalism, planting the seeds that would eventually lead to the Bangladesh Liberation War in 1971. In 1956, the government was forced to relent and grant equal status to Bengali.
How did a protest in Dhaka become a United Nations observance? The journey from the streets of 1952 to the halls of UNESCO took nearly half a century, driven by the Bangladeshi diaspora.
In 1998, two Bengalis living in Vancouver, Canada—Rafiqul Islam and Abdus Salam—wrote a letter to Kofi Annan, the then Secretary-General of the UN. They proposed that the world should have a day dedicated to the preservation of Mother Languages, and they suggested February 21st to honor the martyrs of Dhaka.
The proposal moved through diplomatic channels, championed by the Bangladesh government. On November 17, 1999, UNESCO proclaimed February 21st as International Mother Language Day. The resolution was unanimous.
While the origins of the day are political and violent, the observance today is vital for the survival of global heritage. The Language Movement proved that language is the most powerful adhesive of a culture. When that adhesive is dissolved, the culture collapses.
Today, linguists estimate that a language dies every two weeks. Of the nearly 7,000 languages spoken today, at least 43% are endangered. International Mother Language Day serves as a reminder of three critical linguistic principles:
In Bangladesh, February 21st is known as Ekushey (meaning “the 21st”). It is a public holiday marked not by festivities, but by solemnity. At midnight, thousands walk barefoot to the Shaheed Minar (Martyr’s Monument) to lay flowers, singing the mournful yet defiant song, “Amar Bhaier Rokte Rangano Ekushey February” (My brother’s blood-stained 21st of February).
For the rest of the world, this day is a call to action. Whether you are a polyglot, a language learner, or a linguistics student, take a moment this February 21st to reflect on the privilege of speaking your mother tongue freely.
Language is more than a tool for communication; it is a repository of the past and a vehicle for the future. In 1952, young students gave their lives to prove that a mother tongue is worth dying for. The least we can do today is ensure that the world’s languages are worth living for.
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