For centuries, the language of administration and the market in Afghanistan has been Persian. However, because both administration and the market in our country have been limited in scope, a large portion of the population has remained unfamiliar with it. Pashto entered the administration very late, but at a critical juncture when governments had greater influence over people’s lives, education became more widespread, and the nucleus of a modern market took shape, serious efforts were made to establish Pashto as the language of administration and the market. Among these, it is well known that Zahir Shah, through a decree in 1936, declared Afghani (Pashto) the national language and required all government officials to learn the Afghani language within three years. Although the 1964 and 2004 constitutions did not raise the distinction between the national language and the official language, the informal title of “national language” was put forward by some politicians and emerged, among other things, in the debate over “national terminology.”
In this process, Persian was pushed back somewhat, but since governments lacked sufficient resources to fill the gap left by Persian in the market and administration, the plan to establish Pashto was repeatedly delayed. At the same time, with the relative advancement of education and urbanization, the exclusive role of the state in determining the language of the market and administration diminished, and independent actors from parties, associations, guilds, and individuals entered the field.
In the 1960s, this struggle reached its peak, and all three actors, the state, the opposition, and private entities, gained influence and effective tools. As a result, the state, instead of being the undisputed ruler, became one of three actors in the field of culture and language. For this reason, Persian, which had retreated, reentered the arena under a new guise (Dari) and thereafter held the primary role in the market and administration until the era of the first Taliban Emirate. During this period, Pashto also grew, but the urban and administrative environment favored Dari. The language of universities, media, announcements, and partisan and political publications, both within the government and among its opponents, largely remained Dari.
Since that same decade of the 1960s, Pashtun politicians, while making a relative retreat, emphasized preserving Pashto’s symbolic role as the national language. Among other things, Pashto’s exclusive role on banknotes was preserved, and efforts were made to grant Pashto at least a nominally higher rank by giving it the title of “national,” while simultaneously affirming the continued official status of Persian under the new name of Dari in the fields of education, official correspondence, the market, and culture. As a result, Persian became the official language, while Pashto was designated, mainly by Pashtun ethno-nationalist politicians, as both the official and national language.
Some other countries, particularly those with a history of colonization, have also experienced this distinction between a national language and an official language. In this model, the official language is in common use in the market and administration, while the national language, alongside other uses, plays a ceremonial role, including in the national anthem, on banknotes, and in ceremonial programs. However, if this symbolic role is accompanied by discrimination, it creates a sense of belonging or ethnic alienation, leads to conflict, and produces unnecessary and costly troubles.
Competition between Persian and Pashto continued during the era of the Islamic Republic and, at times, became quite heated. Persian, in that free competition over twenty years, proved stronger due to its long history in administration, the market, and the media. Pashto also grew significantly on its own scale. Abundant resources were translated and produced. Media outlets, universities, and libraries in which Pashto is the primary language grew both quantitatively and qualitatively. But this growth was small compared to Dari. In fact, during the twenty years of the Islamic Republic, Persian remained the dominant force in the market, administration, and media.
Nevertheless, cultural awakening increased alongside the growth of literacy and urbanization. The playing field across the country became fragmented and divided. First, the number of markets, media outlets, and cities where Pashto was the first language increased. That is, while Persian was being promoted and expanded at the macro level, Pashto became a very serious contender at the local level. At the same time, new spaces for Uzbek, Turkmen, Pashai, Nuristani, and other languages took shape and gained official recognition. Mother-tongue education was strengthened, non-Persian and non-Pashto media outlets multiplied, and written material in these languages of our homeland increased. It can be said that the field of language became somewhat democratized during the twenty years of the Islamic Republic.
With the Taliban’s return, two things occurred. First, the administrative and official communication balance shifted in favor of Pashto, and Emirate dictates replaced competition. Since the majority of Taliban officials and senior officeholders are Pashto speakers, Persian has been tangibly pushed back in official affairs and administration. Second, the virtual world, beyond the reach of the rulers’ authority, grew significantly, and within this parallel world, free and democratic cultural competition has continued. It should not be misunderstood, however, that refuge in the virtual world can fill the void left by formal education, schools, and government support policies. In a country with widespread poverty and weak infrastructure, the internet is still not a universal tool, and the main burden of education still rests on schools and administration. But in the field of media and text production, cyberspace has at least managed to create a parallel competitive environment. In this arena, both Pashto and Persian are active, sometimes as collaborators and sometimes as competitors. Uzbek has also seen notable growth in this informal space, to the point that most media outlets now have dedicated Uzbek-language sections, and the number of Uzbek-speaking users is also increasing.
I am not well informed about Pashai, Balochi, or Nuristani. But indications suggest that text production, especially video and audio content, and communication among speakers of the same language are growing in all of Afghanistan’s languages.
Foundational support, not administrative monopoly
Given this overview of the situation, it can be said that, by the state’s definition, the national language is Pashto. But this title, more than determining actual rights or standing, is a declaration, a reactive and undemocratic declaration by politicians who see no capacity for democratic competition in themselves and who try, by drawing boundaries and declaring exclusive domains, to justify or compensate for their own inability to strengthen the Pashto language. They declare certain areas non-competitive to be lazy there and gain free privileges.
In the past, this policy has not succeeded and has not proven beneficial to the government and society of Afghanistan, particularly to the Pashto-speaking community. A great deal of energy has been spent on preserving monopoly and suppressing rivals, while little time and few resources have been devoted to the genuine growth of the Pashto language.
Nevertheless, the Pashto language has a very large playing field, and if the social and economic environment of Pashtun society is strengthened and the Pashtun masses become literate, it will grow alongside Persian in Afghanistan and, in some respects, may even shine more brightly than Persian.
The issue is not that the government should not support the Pashto language or other languages. On the contrary, without the government’s financial, educational, and institutional support, a language cannot take root and endure in the modern world. The core issue lies in this intervention. Government support is effective when it is directed solely toward educational infrastructure, publishing books, training teachers, and strengthening the scholarly foundation of the language, not when it exempts the language from natural competition by granting it symbolic titles and creating administrative monopolies. Monopolistic growth that relies solely on decree and government coercion is fragile and collapses with every political change.
Relying on an exclusive claim for Pashto and restricting other languages not only fails to strengthen Pashto but also damages normal, democratic cultural exchange between Pashto speakers and Persian speakers, and hinders the language’s natural spread into other communities. The continuation of this policy of imposition pushes society toward costly cultural confrontations in which everyone loses.
In conclusion, the solution lies neither in leaving languages to an unregulated market nor in one-sided state monopolization. The government is obligated to provide fair, foundational support for all languages and to facilitate free and democratic competition. The title “national language,” if it means an exclusive privilege, is nothing more than an undemocratic declaration and will bring no benefit to the genuine growth of Pashto.
You can read the Persian version of this analysis article here:
