CHAPTER FIVE

LANGUAGE IN EDUCATION
AND SYMBOLIC VIOLENCE IN PAKISTAN

TAYYABA TAMIM

Introduction
The international emphasis on education is based on the assumption of
its role in positive social change, transformation and a more equitable
society. Hence, education is emphasized not just from a human rights
perspective, but is endorsed by human capital theory too, for collective
economic prosperity. It is also advocated by the capability approach to
human development because of its intrinsic value for human beings and its
instrumental role in the expansion of their freedom of choices.
Nevertheless, research indicates that the trajectory of education into
collective or individual wellbeing is neither automatic nor guaranteed
(Unterhalter, Vaughan and Walker 2007). Education, if not equitable, can
be a divisive factor through which “old prejudices are transferred and new
ones are added” (Hettne 1995, 68), leading to the resurrection of the very
social structures that it had set out to address (Bourdieu 1991; Bowles and
Gintis 1976). A major source of discrimination within education, in
multilingual contexts like Pakistan, can be the choice of languages used
and taught within it. Language-based choices, embedded within the
hierarchy of a wider language policy, can have implications for inequality
and poverty that are seldom voiced in development discourse.
Despite increasing evidence that language can be implicated in issues
of discrimination, inequality and power (Tollefson 1991; Skutnabb-
Kangas 2000; Rahman 2006), both within education (Cummins 2000;
Cummins 1996) and outside (Norton Peirce 1995; Bruthiaux 2002), its
connection with narrowly defined poverty remains largely under-explored
with the exception of a few studies (Robinson 1997; Harbert, McConnell-
Ginet and Miller 2008). Hardly ever is the debate of the choice of
112 Chapter Five

languages in education set against the perspective of such issues. Hence

the discourses of language-based inequality and development may often
run parallel but seldom intersect.
This chapter, based on two different qualitative studies in Pakistan,
aims to integrate the discourses of development and language education by
exploring the processes by which the current language policy and
languages used and taught in the multilingual context of Pakistan,
perpetuate ideologies and language-based practices that result in inequality
and lead to discursive constructions of the self that force the dominant into
complicity with their own dominance. Hence if not dispelling, diminishing
the transformative outcomes of education for those relatively disadvantaged.
In this regard, the paper uses the theoretical framework of Pierre Bourdieu,
specifically his construct of “symbolic violence” (Bourdieu and Passeron
1977), to explore how the language policy and languages used in
education inhibit and constrict the agency and wellbeing of those involved
and arrest processes of transformation, mobility and positive orientations
of self. The paper rejects the linguistic and cultural deficit theories
following Bourdieu (1991), and grounds its arguments on the assumption
that “transformative” education, i.e. education that can bring about
meaningful change, is possible for all (Hart, Dixon, Drummond and
McIntyre 2004).
The concept of poverty here is relative and multidimensional, having
both material and non-material forms. Informed by Sen’s (1990) capability
approach it is understood as “capability deprivation” i.e. lack of
opportunities and freedom of choices to achieve goals one has reason to
value. In this paper I focus on only three aspects of relative poverty, i.e.
the freedom to: a) live without shame; b) negotiate valued identities or
maintain one’s identity; c) participate in valued social processes. The
capability to go without shame lies at the core of poverty (Sen 1983), an
argument that can be traced back to Adam Smith. Identity formation is an
intransitive effect of choices whether made by self or others (Alkire 2002);
while being able to maintain one’s identity is related to one’s wellbeing
(ibid.). The equality of participation forms the basis of social justice as
argued by Sen (1990) and Fraser (2008).
I begin with an outline of the theoretical framework within which my
arguments are situated, followed by a description of the context of the
study and methodology. The subsequent sections present the findings and
discussion. I conclude by summarizing the key points.
 Language Education and Symbolic Violence in Pakistan 113

The Context
Pakistan is a developing country with 49% of its population suffering
from multidimensional poverty (Human Development Report 2011).
Participation in higher education is only 5%, and is fraught with gender
and regional disparities (Economic Survey 2011). Although the Economic
Survey (2011) has estimated the country’s literacy rate as 57.7% and
informs of rise in school enrolments, studies such as Andrabi, Das,
Khwaja, Vishwanath and Zajonc (2007) and those undertaken by ASER
(2011; 2012) report poor learning outcomes, specifically in government
schools. Such studies reveal that there is a large majority of those “in”
schools but “silently excluded” from any meaningful learning (Lewin
2007a in Lewin and Little 2011).
Pakistan has no less than 25 languages in addition to a national
language, Urdu and an official language, English. Of these, Punjabi is
spoken as a mother tongue by 44.15%, Pashto by 15.42%, Sindhi by
4.10%, Siraiki by 10.53%, Urdu by 7.57%, Baluchi by 3.57%, and other
languages by 4.66% of the population (Census 2001). In Pakistan, the
official language policy demonstrates a strong commitment to Urdu in
relation to regional languages but stays ambiguous regarding the relative
status of Urdu and English. Despite Urdu being declared a national
language, and the lingua franca in the country, historically, it has been the
use of English that has been pervasive in government, bureaucracy, the
higher judiciary, higher education and almost all official business, since
the country’s independence from British colonial rule in 1947 (Mansoor
2005; Rahman 2006).
The question of languages in education has been much debated among
educationists and politicians and continues to-date in Pakistan. With
regional languages given little importance beyond primary level in
education and that only in a few provinces (with the exception of Sindh),
the debate after the cessation of the East wing of Pakistan in 1971 has
centred around Urdu vs. English as the medium of instruction in the
country. Sindh is an exception in this regard, where the choice of
secondary school education in Sindhi exists, and where taking a paper on
Sindhi language is mandatory for those appearing in provincial secondary
school board examination. Nevertheless, the population of these schools is
also shrinking fast, leaving Urdu and English as the two languages
contesting social and educational space. On the one hand, Urdu is
promoted as the national language for the purpose of achieving national
solidarity and identity; on the other, English is advocated for pragmatic
concerns and the need to compete in the global market. The different
114 Chapter Five

education commissions and national policies (1957-1998), and even the

constitution of 1973, are a testament to this conflict, where commitment to
Urdu as medium of instruction and as an official language is made but
delayed for one reason or another.
This ongoing debate, however, has had little impact on the private
English-medium schools which have continued to prosper. Although in the
late 1970s, the government nationalized private schools to impose Urdu as
the medium of instruction, the attempt failed, as even the government’s
own institutions, such as those run by the Ministry of Defence, resisted the
change. The policy was reversed and the denationalization in 1979 led to a
surge of English-medium private institutions in the1980s, especially in
urban areas, which charged varying levels of fees. The choice of the
medium of education has ever since been left to the provincial governments.
Currently, almost all private schools in urban areas use English as a
medium of subject study and offer Urdu as a subject. The quality of
English language teaching/learning in these schools often coincides with
their fee structure. In contrast, the free of charge government schools that
are the only viable educational opportunity for the poor, have until now
offered instruction in Urdu, or, in some cases, regional languages,1 while
English has been taught as a subject. In 2002 the local government of
Punjab initiated English-medium instruction for one section within
selected government schools from grade VI onwards on an experimental
basis. Since this required a certain level of prior English language
proficiency, access to these was limited to those who had been attending
private schools in the past. Now the governments of Punjab and Sindh
have decreed the conversion of instruction in government schools from
Urdu to English medium from class I onwards since 2012, though Sindhi-
medium schools have been allowed to continue. In this respect, these
government schools are now on a par with low-paid English medium
schools that only poorly achieve the teaching of English because of the
paucity of human and financial resources. This decision, made with the
enthusiastic verve of equalizing opportunities to learn English, can be
argued to have aggravated the educational dilemma of the poor, for many
of whom even Urdu is a second language; and who have had almost no
exposure to English. The major challenge of conceptual understanding in
this case is not hard to imagine, while no mention need be made of the


1
As discussed these are at primary level, except in Sindh where secondary
education in Sindhi language is provided in a few selected schools. None of these
were part of the sample for the current study.
 Language Education and Symbolic Violence in Pakistan 115

poor English proficiency of teachers. Hence, fraught with pragmatic

concerns, political tensions, and little research, the status quo continues.

Theoretical Framework: Symbolic Violence

Of the several studies that highlight the role of education in the
reproduction of social structure, Bourdieu and Passeron’s (1977) theory of
symbolic violence stands out in centralizing the role of ideology (Lakomski
1984). Symbolic violence constitutes the “subtle imposition of systems of
meaning that legitimize and thus solidify structures of inequality” (Wacquant
2008, 278). This imposition takes place in connivance with “misrecognition”
of what is only “arbitrary”, as “natural” and common sense (Cushions and
Jones 2006; Bourdieu 1991). As such the framework of symbolic violence
offers a profound account of the manifold processes by which “the social order
masks its arbitrariness and perpetuates itself”, by forging “practical acceptance
if not willed consent” of the dominated (ibid. 1). However, much more than a
deterministic account of which it is accused (Lakomski 1984), the framework
of symbolic violence also highlights “the social conditions under which
hierarchies can be challenged, transformed and overturned” (Wacquant 2008,
268). In the construct of symbolic violence in tandem with the toolkit of
“habitus”, “capital”, “field”, and “doxa” (ibid.), Bourdieu dissolves the
opposition between subjective perceptions and objective structures.
Habitus represents the confluence of agency and structure, a social
history inscribed in the body: an internalized schema of social constraints
that generates practices and perceptions of possibilities for the self.
Crucially, I view habitus not as “irreversible” (Lakomski 1984) but as
evolving through prolonged exposure to different fields. An example in
this regard is the concept of “institutional habitus” that results from
interaction within formal educational institutions (Reay 1998). Habitus is
thus essentially a principle of “both social continuity and discontinuity”,
because while being an embodied repository of power structures within
which the individual is socially grounded (and as such, it is also shared
with others similarly positioned), it is amenable to modification and can
“trigger innovation” with prolonged exposure to different fields (Wacquant
2006, 273).
Field is the concept of hierarchal social space where individuals are
positioned in relation to the value of the capitals they possess. Different
fields exist in relative autonomy to each other (Bourdieu and Wacquant
1992). This means that although each field has its own operative rules that
govern valuation of capitals, these are not completely independent “from
the fields of economic and political power which dominate society.”
116 Chapter Five

Hence fields simultaneously exhibit features “homologous to the wider

social structure,” and those specific “to its own structure and logic”
(Maton 2005, 689). The complexity of these interrelationships weaves the
social fabric (ibid.) and are reflected in “doxa”, “the taken for granted
shared assumptions and beliefs” (Hunter 2004, 175). It is important
however to understand that the relational positions of individuals that
structure a field are not reducible to only interactions because individuals
may be positioned higher or lower in relation to others they have never
met (Maton 2005).
Capitals are the social economic and cultural resources that hold an
exchange value in participation for individuals (Swartz 1997). However, it
is with reference to the symbolic value allocated to capitals possessed by
individuals in the given field that determines their relative social
positioning (Sullivan 2002). The plight of the dominated often lies in the
fact that their capitals are poorly valued. Although, the allocation of
differential value is only an act of social construction, the “doxa”,
impregnated with issues of power and inequality, conceals its arbitrary
nature and generates a belief, the “misrecognition” that these judgments
are only “natural,” resulting from “common sense” (Cushion and Jones
2006). Such processes perpetuate symbolic violence, that diminishes and
constrains the agency of the dominated to achieve their valued goals by
conjuring up a poor sense of self efficacy and identity, limiting perceptions
of possibilities for the self and misrecognizing structural inequalities, as
deficits of self, and eventually affecting resignation to the given order.
The education system for Bourdieu and Passeron (1977) can be a major
instrument through which symbolic violence and the resulting inequality
can persist. It is through “pedagogic action (PA)”, that the educational
system seals the privilege of the dominant by imposing a hierarchy of
values that align with the cultural capital already possessed by the
dominant. Simultaneously, the system restricts the equitable distribution of
the valued capital/s by providing differential educational access across
classes. The pedagogical action is based on the assumption of possession
of certain capitals by all, which in reality only the dominant actually have.
In this case, the teacher has only to teach equally to create inequality
(Lakomski 1984). With pedagogical “authority” (PAu) the regimes of
classification are legitimized under the guise of neutrality and meritocracy,
whereby academic failure is misrecognized as individual lack of talent
(Bourdieu and Passeron 1977). The success of the pedagogical “work”
(PW), i.e. inculcation, relies on the misrecognition of the given order as
absolute, to the exclusion of any other possibility. This misrecognition
results in symbolic violence that forces the dominated to accept their given
 Language Education and Symbolic Violence in Pakistan 117

dominated position. Following their failure to perceive other possibilities,

they self-deselect themselves from pathways that may lead to upward
social mobility and achievement of valued goals. Not only this, the
dominated attribute their failure to their own lack of natural ability,
without realizing that the entire rules of the games were structured to
conspire in their defeat. Although a few may succeed and cross the social
border, to identify with those who hold distinction in the field, such
success comes at the price of “dislocation of the self,” that demands
renunciation of their past, their identity, and even their language. The
conflict experienced at this conjuncture results from the “internalized class
division” (Bourdieu 1991). Nevertheless, the “logic of dominance”,
requires acceptance of dominance to succeed (Bourdieu 1987).

Methodology
This paper is based on some findings of two different funded
qualitative studies (Tamim 2005, 2010) in Pakistan that used a multiple-
case study design. The studies were conducted with final year secondary
school participants and others with at least two years of college experience
in urban areas of Karachi (in Sindh) and Lahore in the province of Punjab
in Pakistan. These were geared towards exploring language related issues
within and outside education, situated within the complexities of the given
sociocultural context. The methodology of both the studies was qualitative
and in-depth ethnographic style semi-structured individual interviews
formed the main data source. Although the qualitative nature of the studies
restricts the extent to which the findings can be generalized, it offers
unique in-depth insights, not possible otherwise.
The first study was “ethno-cognitive” (Woods 1996) in nature and
combined the social and the cognitive to explore the perceptions of
teachers and students in the context of English language teaching and
learning at a university in Pakistan. The data of this qualitative study was
based on in-depth stimulated recall and ethnographic interviews of 4
teachers and 6 students in a three-year English language course in a
Nursing Diploma programme at an international university in Pakistan. Of
these, half of the students and teachers were from the first year, while the
others were from the final year of the programme. The second study was
interdisciplinary in nature. It used Amartya Sen’s capability approach to
human development and Pierre Bourdieu’s social critical theory to explore
the impact of institutionally acquired linguistic capital in private and
government schools, on participants’ capabilities to achieve their valued
goals. Sixteen cases (8 male pairs and 8 female pairs of siblings) were
118 Chapter Five

selected from 7 schools (4 private and 3 government) in urban areas from

Karachi (Sindh) and Lahore (Punjab). The sampling was purposive and the
aim was to study typical cases of urban, private and government schools,
leaving out the elite private schools following a foreign examination
system and very small schools.
Snowball sampling was also used to facilitate access to schools in the
climate of political unrest, and general mistrust, at the time of data collection
in Pakistan. In addition, this also helped in reaching out to siblings who had
completed schooling, and assisted me in overcoming, to some extent, the
cultural barriers that I faced owing to my gender and class. The choice of
siblings within a case served to capture time-related processes, i.e.
comparisons within the time span corresponding to the age difference
between the siblings in relation to four main areas: a) parental schooling
choices b) sociocultural and socioeconomic contexts c) language learning
experiences in schooling and d) language-based experiences beyond
schooling. In addition, the older sibling offered a pragmatic window to the
wider social life, while the younger sibling provided more recent and vivid
representations of schooling processes. However, the comparison between
siblings lies beyond the scope of this paper. The gendering of the cases
helped avoid gender-related distortion of comparisons.
The data for this paper emerges from single session ethnographic style
interviews in both studies. The interviews lasted 1-2 hours and were
conducted individually. The interview structures of both studies differed
because of the difference in research questions. However, in both cases the
participants were requested to give authentic examples for any abstract
idea they expressed (Woods 1996) and it was these events and their
evaluative comments that formed the point of discussion.
The data analysis in both studies was a cyclical rather than a linear
process, following the grounded approach, as suggested by Strauss and
Corbin (1998). However, it shifted between two broad phases. In the first
phase, each interview was fully transcribed and analysed and, in the
second, data within and across the cases were studied for patterns and
themes. The process began with line-by-line coding of the transcribed
interviews. This gave a general feel of the data and the coding here
comprised mostly key words used by the participants, while notes or
memos2 were posted side by side as some concepts seemed to develop.
These codes were then revisited, leading to the merging of the initial codes


2
Memos are defined as “the researcher’s record of analysis, thoughts,
interpretations, questions, and directions for further data collection” (Strauss and
Corbin 1998, 110).
 Language Education and Symbolic Violence in Pakistan 119

into more abstract categories. This rigorous coding of each interview was
both an attempt to retain the link between the question asked and the
response given, on the one hand, and to gain an awareness of the
positioning of the discourse within its surrounding argument, on the other,
so that the implicit meanings in the articulation of the perceptions and the
following conflicting or confirming statements could be captured. The
emerging themes seemed to divide themselves into some broad descriptive
domains within which the participants’ perceptions related to language use
and affect were embedded, for example, family, education, work and other
aspects of social life.
In the second phase, the data across the cases was analysed within
specific domains. I followed it with “axial coding” as larger relationships
and patterns seemed to emerge, and the old categories merged into “higher
order concepts” (Sarantakos 2005, 350). The question asked here was “what
seems to go with what?” (Robson 2002, 477), as detailed data matrices were
made. The strategies of: a) clustering and counting to check recurrence of
the data; b) contrasting and comparing; c) “partitioning [of] variables,” and
d) checking the “plausibility” of interpretations, were also rigorously used
(Robson 2002, 480). Finally, more selective coding3 and core categories led
to a higher degree of abstraction (Strauss and Corbin 1998). The themes thus
arising from both studies suggesting the pervasiveness of symbolic violence
have been selected in the writing of this paper.

Participants
In the first study, the teacher participants were female, and 30-55 years
of age. Their first language was Urdu, though they were also familiar with
at least one regional language. They had a professional degree or
certificate in teaching English language and they had a teaching experience
of 10-35 years at different levels. They had been with this university for 2-
7 years. The nursing student participants were 20-25 year old females from
diverse ethno-linguistic backgrounds, and all, except one, were from the
disadvantaged socioeconomic strata like the majority of the student
population at this university. All of them were fluent in Urdu, although
only two of them had it as their mother tongue. They had a prior exposure
of 8-12 years of formal English language learning at school/college level.
With the exception of one, who was from an expensive private school, all
the participants had their schooling from low-paid English-medium


3
By which I refer to the process of integrating and refining the theoretical approach.
120 Chapter Five

schools or government-run Urdu-medium schools. All, except one,

reported poor English language proficiency.
In the second study, the private school graduates (PSGs) had English-
medium schooling and belonged to relatively stronger economic
backgrounds than the government school participants (GSGs) in the study.
The PSGs also had educated parents, who were supportive of their
education. In contrast, all the government school graduates (GSGs) reported
low parental education and lower income background. Four of the eight
GSG cases formed the lowest income group. They reported disruptive
schooling journeys and poor value attached to education by the parents. The
other group of GSGs, with relatively higher income, shared with PSGs a
parental commitment to and appreciation of the value of education. The
GSGs, specifically those from the working class, were found to be
disadvantaged in the “primary habitus of the family” (Bourdieu 1991),
Research has highlighted how these differences advantage the middle class
children in terms of cognitive and verbal development (Nisbet 1953;
Bernstein 1964; Lawton 1968). Even if not seen in deterministic terms, there
can be no doubt that this social positioning placed the lowest income group
of GSGs most disadvantageously.
At the end of secondary school, the participants reported learning of the
most valued linguistic capital (English) corresponding to their
socioeconomic background. Though only seven of the 16 PSGs were
confident of their English, all of them reported having learnt English to a
considerable extent. In contrast, the GSGs described their English skills as
only minimal, with those with the lowest income having benefited least
from schooling. Those from private schools invariably qualified their Urdu
learning as “poor”, but they hardly felt concerned; while a majority of the
GSGs reported learning Urdu, but did not really consider it an
achievement, because they felt it was too “common”. With the exception
of one, none of them reported learning Sindhi.

Findings
The findings discussed here are related to Urdu and English, the two
dominant languages and those most valued and used by the participants.
The implications of regional languages within education would require a
detailed discussion that lies beyond the scope of this paper.
 Language Education and Symbolic Violence in Pakistan 121

The Doxic Order: Urdu-Mediums as Rejects

Applying Bourdieu’s theory requires capturing the “doxa” of the field,
the intersubjective meanings assigned to social phenomena, which
effectively define interaction and represent the pattern of social fabric that
weaves onto individual subjectivities, reproducing the social. In this
context, the doxa was the unambiguous divide between the “Urdu-
medium” (UM) and the “English-medium,” (EM) whereby the Urdu-
mediums emerged as the rejected other. Hira (EM) emphasized that “Urdu
medium is a stigma” and explained:

These Urdu-medium children remain uneducated even after being

educated… they don’t know anything… they are villagers and their parents
also… they must have that kind of environment at home that they did not
study in English-medium. If they have studied in Urdu-medium then their
choice of clothing will also be bad. They would also wear clothes like
that… a whole picture emerges in the mind. (Interview PSG, Lahore, 12
April 2008)

Unais (EM) had never come into contact with an “Urdu-medium”

(UM), yet he knew what to expect:

For example he is Urdu medium he has bad language… meaning he

verbally abuses… this is the way his language is but the class environment
is different… these things are strictly disallowed and so are bad languages.
(Interview PSG, Karachi, 22 June 2008)

Unais and Hira’s discourse exemplifies the prevalent “othering,

stereotyping and essentializing” (Kubota 2004, 39) and the powerful
rejecting of the other. Consequently, they indicate “a legitimizing of an
almost colonial dichotomy between the Self and the Other” whereby “the
Self is conceptualized as civilized, rational, logical, and thus superior,”
and the other is rejected as “uncivilized, irrational, illogical, and thus
inferior” (Pennycook 1998 in Kubota 2004, 39). The strength of the doxa
in the given context was evident in that not only those who knew English,
but also those who did not, mutually defined “good education” and “good
family background” and (in the case of some teachers) even “intelligence”
as synonymous with knowing English. Those with poor English skills
were excruciatingly aware of this dichotomy, and tried to improvise their
positioning by disguising it: “I mix a word or two of English as I talk in
Urdu,” explained Seema (UM), indicating unquestioning acceptance of the
given order as “natural” and hence, the stepping stone for the perpetuation
of symbolic violence.
122 Chapter Five

Conflict and Legitimization of Hierarchy

The instinctive awareness of the positioning of Urdu-medium is
particularly perplexing in this context, given that impervious to the
ideological bias, it was Urdu that functioned as the lingua franca and all the
participants used Urdu commonly in their daily lives. In addition, a
majority explained it as the medium in which they expressed their
innermost thoughts to friends and family. This conflict in the use and
rejection of local languages was apparent in the educational context too.
Significantly, all the EMs reported either strict punishments or strong
discouragement of speaking in Urdu, or any regional language in school.
However, the policy was inherently conflictual because Urdu was not only
taught but also used in classrooms for “pragmatic reasons” (Tamim 2005).
This theme of denial and conflict was very strong here. Both learners and
teachers expressed the need to use Urdu in class only to reject it later, as a
certain threat to distinction is perceived both at institutional and individual
level. Teacher A commented:

I would be afraid to use Urdu… I would be afraid of my own

understanding of it because we are doing it just for our children4 but still
feeling guilty about it. (Interview teacher A, 5 April 2005)

This threat to distinction emerges at institutional level in the sanctions

placed on speaking Urdu, stricter in the case of the high fee structure of
the school. Salman (EM) described the humiliation his friend had to
undergo when he could not express himself in English to the Head teacher:

Now Sir was asking him to clarify his point only in English. He is telling
Sir that I Sir I can’t ...don’t know how to speak in English, I only know
Urdu [but he was sent back...] Then he felt very bad. Then he got his
speech translated and then after fully understanding it went to Sir that Sir
this is my point… Even if I was in his place I would have felt very bad.
My point is perfectly alright but I am not being able to explain to Sir. Sir is
insisting that you have to do it in English…then […] the whole class then
says that Sir did not listen to him. (Interview EM, Lahore, 7 May 2008)

Shazia (EM) remembered the “horrible experience” of being punished

for speaking in Urdu in grade VII at school:


4
Whenever the participants mentioned using L1, they always hastened to explain its
use almost apologetically. It could signify a sense of guilt and shame in the use of L1
 Language Education and Symbolic Violence in Pakistan 123

It was a horrible experience. I was talking to my friend in Urdu. The

teacher stopped me in Urdu but after a while I started talking in Urdu
again. She [the teacher] dragged me from the class… I apologized and
pleaded… and cried but she dragged me and locked me in the washroom
for fifteen minutes… It was very shameful… Whenever I meet her I
remember how she really/ how important is English in life. (Source
Interview, EM, 6 April 2005)

It is significant in Shazia’s case that the teacher, who stops her

from speaking in Urdu and punishes her for it, was herself using Urdu
to do that. This is because English language proficiency is not common
in this context, even in teachers. The punishment was harsh and the
agony of shame at this tender age can be well-imagined, yet the
message, “how important English is in life”, has been learnt. Similarly,
despite relating a story of humiliation that his friend underwent
because of the rule of speaking only in English, and not actually
condoning it, he emphasizes: “there should be fines and punishments
so we are forced to speak in English” (Interview, EM, 7 May 2008).
By equating the “right to speak” and the “right to be heard” with
knowing English, the pedagogical action can be seen to legitimize the
hierarchy of languages, in contrast to the hierarchy of actual language
use by the learners. In the case of teacher A, the success of the
pedagogic work is evident in the guilt and fear she shares with other
teachers, in the denial of her positive experience of using Urdu in class.
The threat to her educated identity is real and powerful. The doxa of
the symbolic power of English is all pervasive and so is the conflict
omnipresent, though ignored, whereby the need for local language is
realized, utilized but officially dismissed and denied, stimulating
feelings of “guilt” (Macaro 1997, 76).
A problem with the human capital approach to education that
currently dominates the educational field is that it forces education to
be subservient to the market; as such it absolves the institution of
education of its power to challenge the existing norms. Hence,
educational institutions mediate, strengthen and reproduce symbolic
violence in the wider social life, manifest in the unquestioned
acceptance of hierarchy of languages. It is the “censorship which stems
from the structure of the market” that eventually “transform[s] into self
censorship” as the participants anticipate profits of distinction. Hence,
complicity to dominance is constructed (Bourdieu 1991, 19).
124 Chapter Five

The Discursive Construction of Self: Shame and Guilt

Aisha (EM) vividly remembered the “shame” she felt when she had to
disclose in her first college class that she was “Urdu medium” and she was
not alone. In the field of higher education, as the medium of instruction
changed from Urdu to English, and the UMs studied next to EMs, the
UMs described painful struggle, “shame” and “guilt” as they tried to grasp
the texts in a language they barely understood.5 Here the “misrecognition”
that higher education was providing equal opportunities appears only to
increase their distress as they compared themselves with the EMs, who
“completed the task in 5 minutes”, while they took “hours”. Hence, the
onrush of “guilt” and “shame” was obviously arising from the
misrecognition of cultural inequality, as “lack of natural talent” (Bourdieu
1991). Imran (EM) exemplified with reference to his fellow students:

It [English] becomes his limitation… he will not ask any question. It

happens in our class. Those who are very weak in English… if Sir is
explaining and someone asks he would explain in Urdu but that boy or girl
feels guilty in oneself that they all know English and I don’t know. (Source
Interview, UM Lahore, 4 April 2008)

Hussein (UM), who joined a prestigious college in Lahore, after

coming from a small town and winning a gold medal for excelling in
secondary school board examination, described the distressing experience
of symbolic violence. Once he learnt that his Punjabi accent was a huge
disadvantage, he could not even muster up courage to inform his teacher
that his name was not in the class register so his attendance was not being
marked. Eventually, his name was struck off from college:

I did not have any confidence…I did not have command over language
[…] My confidence at that time was so low that I could not say [to the
teacher] why have you struck me off [from the class register ]. You cannot
be in a college, in a department and speak in Punjabi … how many people
might be standing there, how much embarrassment you must feel… that I
am speaking in Punjabi… everyone is looking. Laughing...This is a major
thing that comes in the way (Interview PSG, Lahore, 5 April 2008).


5
There are certain subjects offered in Urdu, but the professional subjects leading to
medicine, engineering, economics are offered either only in English or are offered
only at lower level in Urdu and later changed to English. As the terminology used
in these subjects is different in English and Urdu, the participants expressed their
distress at not being able to connect new concepts with old.
 Language Education and Symbolic Violence in Pakistan 125

Hussein’s low confidence was not only because he felt limited in

English but also because he had a regional accent in Urdu. Ridiculed and
silenced, he was painfully aware of “everyone looking.” This is in striking
contrast to the higher education experience of Faizan (EM), who revelled
at the thought of how “everyone was looking” when he made his first
presentation in English with “an American accent,” that he was able to
fake. Both of them anticipated people as thinking, “Where is he from?” as
Faizan (EM) explains. Ironically, both boys were from Punjab. One of
them, though, had been able to disguise his local identity, while the other
had failed to do so. Hence, Faizan’s “distinction” was acquired at the price
of “dislocation of self” (Swartz 1997), and distancing from local identity,
which was intersubjectively ascribed an inferior status in this context, a
result of the symbolic violence.
In the field of work too, the stigma of Urdu-medium seemed to be all
consuming, triggering shame. Sameen (UM) after completing two years of
college was teaching at a local private EM school, at a salary of ten
pounds per month. This was a remuneration lower than that given to an
illiterate domestic servant in this context. However, she had to accept it
because of her poor English. Yet the job brought neither financial
independence nor a sense of valued educated identity. She explained that
the “embarrassment” of being UM was inescapable, giving the example of
her grade III math class:

There are small things. I used the word ‘parkar’ [Urdu term for compass] in
class and a student said “miss this is a compass” and then I did not know what
tables were because we always said paharei [an Urdu term for multiplication
tables]... it is such an embarrassment…Then the other student in my class
started asking “Miss how educated are you?” and I told him it was none of his
business. It is such a shame. (Interview GSG, Karachi, 21 May 2008)

It is noteworthy that Sameen neither defended her use of the Urdu

word, which was a legitimate academic term, nor reply to the question
about her education. Rather, she sums up the narration of the incident with
the evaluative comment: “it is such a shame.” This reflects the low self-
esteem and sense of powerlessness experienced by the UMs because of the
low value ascribed to their linguistic capital on the one hand, and their
limited opportunities to access the symbolic capital of English, on the
other. The roots of the shame and guilt can be traced to the misrecognition
of the arbitrary social values as absolute; hence, the inferiority of their
own language and the superiority of English only appear as common
sense. This defines the contours of symbolic violence. I would argue here,
that “shame” is worse than humiliation, because while humiliation results
126 Chapter Five

from a feeling of unfair treatment, “shame” and also “guilt”, result from
acceptance of wrong doing, exhibiting internalization of the given norms
and conformity to the given social order.
The deep emotional distress following a “sharp drop in social status,
negative judgments, and social rejection” (Oxford et al. 2007, 141), that
the UMs face in higher education institutions, acts to transform their
attempt to participate on an equal basis with EMs, into self-derision,
manifest in the shame and guilt they expressed, a suffering resulting from
symbolic violence. Bourdieu argues that the “ultimate spring of conduct is
the thirst for dignity, which society only can quench” by assigning
meaning to existence. However, this can only be achieved “by submitting
to the judgment of others” (Wacquant 2008, 270); that ironically also
makes one vulnerable to symbolic violence. In this light, the struggle for
saving face and maintaining one’s dignity clearly stands out as a valued
freedom. Hence, the capability approach’s emphasis that the “ability to go
without shame lies at the absolutist core” of poverty (Sen 1983 in Alkire
2002, 183), gains legitimacy.

Positioning of Self and Complicity to Power

As the English language became a symbol of “distinction,” because of
its restricted access and high value, it not only became a symbolic tool for
dominating the other, it itself became a site of struggle for power. Rehana
(EM) asserted:

I know English. I am good enough to be in the group… I know English…I

belong to a good family. I have a good car… good sense of dressing
whatever is required …to be in a good gathering… if you have all this you
don’t have to be afraid of anyone. You can go and speak out aloud.
(Interview EM, Karachi, 21 May 2008)

The apposition of “a good car” with “I know English”, both accepted

signs of privilege and power that Rehana perceives bestow upon her the
authority to “speak out aloud”, without being “afraid of anyone,” and
enjoy the membership of valued elite groups, reveals much about the
symbolic power of English here. Her discourse, however, also indicates
that by implication those who do not have access to English “naturally” do
not have the right to “speak out aloud” and have much to “fear”, and
neither can they achieve membership of valued groups.
Farah (EM) related how her friend, at college, won a fight with a senior
girl, just because she spoke English, fluently all the while, whereas the
other failed to answer back in English. As the latter stood “ridiculed” for
 Language Education and Symbolic Violence in Pakistan 127

her poor English by students who had gathered around them, she had little
choice but to leave. Maria (UM) quietly described the other end of the
perspective: “I used to be silent… when she [my friend] used to speak in
English. I could understand to some extent but I could not answer her in
English… so I would be silent.” Maria’s silence and the senior girl’s
retreat, and the ridicule exhibit the power of the prevailing doxa and
intersubjective understanding of the given social order.
While the more fluent in English among the EMs positioned
themselves for leadership roles which they argued were conferred upon
them “just like that”, without any attempt on their part, the UMs seemed to
consign themselves to subordinate roles. Naila (UM) explained, “If
someone speaks to me in English and I speak to them in Urdu, then I think
their level is higher and my level is lower.” The prevalent symbolic
violence seemed not only to blind the UMs towards the injustice of the
system, it also conjured up a self-image for the EMs of being naturally
superior, and meant to be leaders. Richards (1997) terms this as
considering oneself as “superior in principle”, i.e. “superior as a human
being” (p. 96). This is intrinsically linked to considering the other as
“being inferior in principal”, i.e. “inferior as human being” (ibid.).
However, inequality in this mutual understanding is often concealed.
Richards (1997) argues that in such a situation both the dominant and the
dominated fail to acknowledge the “domineering and exploitative nature
of their relationship and consider unequal relations of power and unfair
treatment as justified” (pp.96-97), because of the intersubjectivity of the
doxa.
The consequence of this complicity in the power and privilege of
others, enforced by symbolic violence, was not just emotional distress but
also material deprivation from what seems to be the “choice” of the UMs.
Hussein (UM) wanted to join a business school but “chose” otherwise, in
anticipation of English presentations expected of him as a part of the
course. Hassan (UM) a healthy, good looking young man, was
overwhelmed with self-doubt. “English…,” he stuttered, when I proposed
the interview spot to be an elite university, a convenient spot for both of us
to meet. Later, he explained how the prospect of having to face the
receptionist, who might speak to him in English, was deeply unsettling for
him. Aqeel (UM) passionately explained that he wanted to get into a
banking career rather than work as an electrician, following his father, yet
he expressed doubts as to whether he would be able to:

A: If there [everything] is in English then we have to do English. [If]

someone talks to us in English, [if] we are not able to speak it will not feel
good.… Meaning English will have to do English […] meaning we cannot
128 Chapter Five

get a job like this. This we know. We have to keep our respect [face] or do
we not? For our self-respect we will not be able to go… just like that. We
will not have the courage… to go, we know nothing… we do not have the
courage to go in the bank.
I: But you would know […] we are talking about only language here?
A: Language… difference is there. Language… makes a huge
difference… when we do not know the language why… should we go into
it. (Interview: EM, Karachi, 3 September 2008)

The suffering resulting from the symbolic violence is clear here. And
so are the multiple dimensions and forms in which it works: relegating the
dominated to their lower social positioning and to keeping their distance,
as if by their own choice, as in the case of Aqeel and Hassan, and coercing
all into accepting the inequality of the social structures without question.

Discussion
The findings reveal the role of languages in education within the
context of the wider national policy in perpetuating symbolic violence, and
thereby depreciating the transformative impact of education. This was
evident in the sustained inequality between the two groups, in terms of
freedom to participate, maintain their dignity and negotiate valued
identities. The link between symbolic violence and relative inequality and
poverty becomes evident through the “struggle” of the social agents. The
dominated in their desire to succeed have little choice but to accept the
rules of the game in the field. Ironically, it is by the proviso of abdication
to the rules of the game that they reinforce and strengthen the given
structures that are constructed to their disadvantage (Swartz 1997).
Suffering from the ensuing shame and guilt they are coerced not only to
accept their lower position in the social hierarchy, but also they self-de-
select themselves from valued education and career opportunities, hence
curtailing their own participation by “choice.” It is here that the value of
Bourdieu’s social critical theory and the capability approach becomes
manifest. The emphasis of both on the exegesis of social choice, exploring
the reasons working behind the choice making process rather than
capturing the ahistorical moment of the actual choice that unravels the
processes of symbolic violence. It is only when the objective realities of
the sociocultural context are taken into account, that the symbolic violence
working upon individual subjectivities can be understood. Hence, the
emphasis of Bourdieu on taking into account both subjective and objective
aspects of the field and the stress of the capability approach on evaluating
the freedom of choices with relevance to the given context.
 Language Education and Symbolic Violence in Pakistan 129

Given the ubiquitous phenomenon of language in the collective social,

it becomes an important tool in the struggle for power and dominance. The
doxa perpetuated by the national language policy breaches the relative
autonomy of different fields and gathers force from becoming all
pervasive, affecting participants in the fields of work, education and wider
social life. The institutional authority that accompanies pedagogical action
gives legitimization to the existing linguistic social hierarchy, whereby
those disadvantaged can be seen being stigmatized and marginalized. This
is despite the fact that Urdu is the primary means of communication used
by participants here. What results is an example of what Bourdieu (1991)
terms as a “class turned against it, whose members are seeking, at the cost
of constant anxiety to produce linguistic expressions that bear the mark of
habitus other than their own” (p. 21) and thereby destroying their own
modes of expression (ibid.).
The question of languages in education then needs to be dealt with in
reference to social inequality. The concept of social equality itself must be
constructed with the acceptance of the diversity of human beings on the
one hand, and an understanding the difference between means and ends on
the other, as suggested by the capability approach (Sen 1990). If the needs
of people are different, the provision of the same commodity (language)
would not lead to equitable outcomes, as was evident in the UMs’
experience in higher education. Hence, the provision of education in
multilingual contexts needs to take into account the diversity of languages
for equitable outcomes. This, however, must be synchronized with the
national language policy to open opportunities for positive social change
and transformation. The study also underscores the significance of
conceptualizing language as a tool, a means to an end: the end of
enhancing the agency of individuals to make choices and achieve valued
goals within the given context and not just an end in itself. However, since
the act of valuation and choices may be the result of social conformity, it
can conceal symbolic violence; it is important then to challenge the values
themselves. This is exactly what Bourdieu’s theory enables one to do.
Bourdieu’s theory has been critiqued for lacking an account of agency
(Lakomski 1984). The application of the theory in my study, I felt,
highlighted “struggle”, rather than just “reproduction” (Wacquant 2008,
272) and enabled me to locate agency as “socioculturally mediated
capacity to act” (Ahearn 2001, 1). The disadvantaged in my study did not
just mechanically settle into the ascribed positions, rather they struggled to
create a space for themselves, as is evident in the case of Aqeel, who
harbours the passion to enter a banking career, or in their attempt at
“mixing of Urdu with English,” and in the UMs’ struggle “to be equal”.
130 Chapter Five

But their agency to achieve what they value is constrained by the

institutional structures that devalue their linguistic capital, while restricting
their access to English. The ensuing symbolic violence, stemming from the
misrecognition that the system is only natural and absolute and that their
failure is their own fault, blinds them to the possibility of challenging the
existing values. They are coerced to draw upon the prevailing values to
abide by the rules governing the field, without realizing that their very
acceptance of these rules disadvantages them from the start and will only
reproduce the existing system. Hence, the participants in the study do not
“mechanically reproduce” the structures but “draw upon” the repertoire of
discourses in the given social context (Fairclough 2001, 32). The practices
of the struggling agents, and I would say their agency was then a
“constructed relationship between the habitus and the field” that did not
just reflect the social structures but also shaped them (Wacquant 2008,
273). As such, reproduction sustains itself only to the extent to which it is
replicated ensuring continuity, yet leaving room for agency and
transformative change (Fairclough 2001, 32), with the positive mediation
of social institutions.

Conclusion
This chapter has explored the impact of languages in education in
Pakistan within the context of the wider national language policy on
participants in terms of poverty and inequality. To this end I have used
Bourdieu’s theoretical concept of symbolic violence that centralizes the role
of ideology. The analytical tool of symbolic violence reveals the processes
by which the individual subjectivities stemming from intersubjective
understandings of social structures, constructed by language policy, and
strengthened by languages in education blind and bind the disadvantaged to
their social positioning, by what seems to be their choice. I agree with
Lawler (2004) that Bourdieu’s work is not “deterministic” but “pessimistic.”
Lawler suggests, following Gramsci that pessimism is a trigger to change:
“it demands that we pay attention to inequalities and injustices and rests on
the belief that things do not have to be the way they are, and that they will
not improve without intervention.” (p.125). However, “change is difficult to
effect,” because “this is what it means to be dominant’ (ibid.).
Despite the limitations of the study because of its qualitative nature, it
opens a new dimension of research in language education, language policy
and development studies in relation to each other. It shows how deeply
language polices can affect people and perpetuate symbolic violence. It
captures the process by which individuals are affected by both language
 Language Education and Symbolic Violence in Pakistan 131

policy and their schooling experiences in relation to languages. It draws

attention to the importance of considering the impact of language used in
development interventions, while offering language educators an insight
into the implications of their language teaching and its far reaching impact
on the lives of individuals.
The solution is not as simple as providing everyone with English, as
the capability approach indicates, because losing local linguistic capital
means a disconnection with their cultural knowledge and local identity,
and disassociation with those less privileged. Rather, it lies in accepting
the multilingual reality of the country and valuing this diversity both
within education and in the language policy for equality of opportunities to
achieve goals one has reason to value.

Acknowledgments: The funding of the first study came from the British
Council and the Aga Khan University. The second study was funded by
the Research Consortium for Educational Outcomes and Poverty
(RECOUP), spearheaded by the Cambridge University Faculty of
Education. RECOUP’s aim was to evaluate the outcomes of education in
relation to poverty reduction across four countries: Pakistan, Ghana,
Kenya and India. I am indebted to Dr Edith Esch and Dr Michael Evans
for their guidance and support during the research. I would also like to
thank Elsa Strietman (Vice President, Murray Edwards) for her invaluable
encouragement and support that enabled me to complete the research.

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