Recent events underscore how language is becoming a flashpoint. From pro-Kannada protests over shop signage to actor Kamal Haasan’s factually incorrect claim that “Kannada was born from Tamil,” linguistic tensions are simmering.

Imagine the uproar if a Kannada actor went to Tamil Nadu and claimed the reverse. A riot would not be far-fetched.

Language isn’t just a tool of communication. It’s culture, identity and above all, cohesion.

In Karnataka, that glue is Kannada, and unless we act swiftly to promote spoken Kannada, especially in our cosmopolitan urban centres, we risk unravelling the social fabric that has long held our diverse State together.

The question now is: Are we doing enough to promote our own language?

Let’s be clear, Kannada cannot be protected through vandalism or threats. You don’t promote a language by intimidating migrants or smashing shop boards. You promote it by speaking it, every day, in every sphere of life.

Chief Minister Siddaramaiah recently said, “Everyone living in this State should learn to speak Kannada. We are all Kannadigas.” A welcome sentiment. But who is a Kannadiga?

The Sarojini Mahishi Committee, back in 1983, defined a Kannadiga as someone who has lived in Karnataka for over 15 years and can read, write and speak Kannada. That definition needs a revision.

Today, even most native Kannadigas, who are fluent speakers, struggle with reading or writing Kannada. Our day-to-day basic interactions in public must be in Kannada. Why?

Because spoken Kannada has historically been the great unifier in our State.

Karnataka is among India’s most culturally diverse States. The Bunt community of Mangaluru speaks Tulu. Kodavas speak Kodava Thakk. Most Muslims speak Dakhani Urdu. Yet all of them speak Kannada, and that’s what connects us.

But this glue is coming loose. With the massive migration of Hindi speakers from northern States to cities like Bengaluru, spoken Kannada is slowly being edged out of everyday life. And when a local language fades from day-to-day communication, identity begins to blur and tensions rise.

History has shown us where this leads. In Maharashtra, anti-migrant sentiment birthed the Shiv Sena in the 1960s. In Tamil Nadu, the anti-Hindi agitations of 1965 gave rise to the DMK.

If mainstream political parties in Karnataka don’t actively promote Kannada, it’s only a matter of time before groups like Karnataka Rakshana Vedike evolve from activists into political players.

So, what should be done?

To begin with, pro-Kannada organisations, instead of merely demanding that outsiders “learn Kannada,” must lobby the Government to institutionalise spoken Kannada training.

The Government should work with IT firms, service industries, and construction companies to introduce short, practical spoken Kannada sessions for employees. These programmes should be incentivised.

Universities must offer affordable, accessible courses focused on conversational fluency in Kannada, instead of the outdated, script-heavy syllabi.

Young Kannada entrepreneurs are already leading by example. Apps and websites like ‘Kannada Baruthe’, ‘Learn Kannada Quickly’, ‘Day2Day Kannada’ and ‘KannadaGottilla.com’ are doing more to promote spoken Kannada than the Government.

Even the Central Institute of Indian Languages (CIIL), based in Mysuru, offers an online Kannada course but frustratingly, learners must first wade through complex script lessons before getting to spoken Kannada. This is where most learners lose interest.

The University of Mysore offers Kannada courses too, but they also suffer from a similar flaw. They too focus too much on the written language and not enough on speech. A shift in curriculum is urgently needed.

Spoken Kannada must be mainstreamed — in public offices, customer service counters, street signage and casual conversation.

If Tamil Nadu, West Bengal and Maharashtra can enforce their native tongues in public life without apology, so can Karnataka.

That said, non-Kannada speakers too must meet the State halfway. If you’re living, working, and raising a family here, learning Kannada isn’t just about survival; it’s about having a sense of belonging.

Refusing to speak the local language after decades of residence may not just seem indifferent, worse, it may come across as ingratitude.

As Nelson Mandela once said, “If you talk to a man in a language HE UNDERSTANDS, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in HIS language, that goes to his heart.”

If Karnataka is to remain peaceful and united amid rapid migration and cultural churn, we must promote the language that binds us — Kannada — not just in writing but in speech too.

Spoken Kannada must be prioritised and normalised. Not through slogans, but through sincere everyday use. Not through threats, but through thoughtful policy.

A policy to promote spoken Kannada is imperative to a peaceful future in our State and we need it NOW before the linguistic fault lines get dangerously deep.

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