Aakansh Vijay and Udit Jain

Abstract: This article critiques English dominance in Indian legal education, arguing that English-only entrance exams like CLAT function as structural barriers reinforcing socio-economic exclusion. Through historical, empirical, and constitutional analysis, it advocates a multilingual, constitutionally aligned framework to democratise access to legal education and linguistic justice

On 6^th May 2025, the Delhi High Court issued directions in a matter concerning a plea that had been filed earlier.  The Division bench hearing the plea directed that the Common Law Admission Test examination should be conducted not only in English but also in other regional languages that are mentioned in the Eighth Schedule of the Constitution of India. Furthermore, it was held that English could not be a barrier to entry for students instructed in regional languages to commence their journey in the legal field. The Consortium has glaringly failed to take any substantial stance on the expressed issue, and the  CLAT 2026 examination, held on 7th December, was particularly propitious for students already privileged in the English medium. In India, language continues to define who governs and who remains governed.

The present piece seeks to argue that the continued pre-eminence of English in legal education through strict conduct of national entrance exams, such as CLAT, in the English language functions as a structural barrier that amplifies the already existing socio-economic exclusion. The article proceeds with the varied scholarship on linguistic imperialism, constitutional egalitarianism, and access to education. Building on historical and sociological critiques such as James Farr, Amartya Sen and further the constituent assembly members who were prescient about the perniciousness of a single privileged language. Herein, the historical use of language as a tool of power is used to present its continued existence in the legal field and how it glaringly violates constitutional enshrined principles, namely that of the article 14,15,21,38 and 46. While Article 38 directs the state to promote the welfare of people by securing a just order and concomitantly reducing existing inequalities, Article 46 mandates the state to protect the educational and economic interests of weaker sections of society. The article is structured in four parts, firstly tracing the historical relation between language and power in India, and secondly presenting empirical and social realities of elitism in legal education. Thirdly, a constitutional analysis of linguistic exclusion and finally, it proposes a pragmatically constitutionally aligned framework for democratising access to legal education in India.

A. THE HISTORICAL CONTEXT: LANGUAGE EMPLOYED FOR POWER

Power frequently reasserts itself in an exclusive lexicon. This linguistic polarisation has been witnessed as a universal feature that functions to reinforce social strata and enforce exclusive hold.  This is true not only with respect to India, but around the world, this pattern is followed, which is not coincidental but reflects what James Farr articulated in his political theory. Farr argued that Language is never neutral, but “     politically constituted by the ends of those who… use it for ideological or political purposes. (see p.24-25)..It was Sanskrit when the common parlance was Prakrit and Pali, or be it Persian, employed in the courts of the  Mughals. The language of power was never the language of people. Britishers drafted most of our laws in the language known to them, and then there was the emergence of this Indian elite class, which was a minuscule portion of the vast Indian population that could speak English. The tradition continued and haunts the majority of India till now, from entering and understanding the profession that ultimately governs them – the law.

The same fear was further elucidated in works of B. Shiva Rao’s ‘The Framing of the Indian Constitution’, where Ramalingan Chettar feared that any single language, especially one that is favoured by the central government, could culminate in a cultural and political domination over non-native speakers, and thereby create a novel form of internal hierarchy. Some distinguished members of the Constituent Assembly of India, such as Pandit Lakshmi Kanta Miarta, were averse to English and stated that it perpetuated slavery and concomitantly led to failure of self-assertion. Their fears are conspicuous in today’s reality, where examinations like CLAT, and professions like law are consistently favoured to the people with access to English-medium education, and the profession of law shares servility to the elite class.

Studies have persistently evinced how linguistic imperialism can lead to marginalisation of local languages and result in erosion of cultural identities and knowledge systems. Amartya Sen(p.4) argued that in India, “ English is the language of the courts, of higher education, of modern businesses,” and that this linguistic gatekeeping results in “a major barrier” to an inclusive educational system. This linguistic dominance reinforced the uncontroverted socio-economic inequality that is already pervasive in Indian society. Critics rightly state that to counter the already existing law that has been drafted in the English language and a linguistically diverse nation like India, where English is the connecting tool, to conduct the CLAT examination in a non-English language may become an arduous task. However, this article seeks to answer the fundamental flaw in this reasoning and counter the same through providing a pragmatic approach through which a more diversified crowd could potentially enter the legal profession. 

B. THE HARSH REALITY: THE LEGAL PROFESSION BELONGS TO THE ELITE

A survey concerning students from different NLUs evidently showcases that more than 50 per cent of people in the top 5 institutions belong to a financially affluent background, as their parents earn more than 1 lakh rupees per month in India, placing them within the top 3 per cent of India’s population. The survey also reveals that an overwhelming 97 per cent of the students were from English-medium schools, highlighting a significant barrier for Hindi-medium students seeking admission to such institutions. Further, the data shows that most students at this top institute have parents who are fluent in English. Most students also mentioned themselves to be highly fluent in both written and spoken English.  Above 27 students have at least one parent in the legal profession.  But to put this in context, a report calculating the Uniform District information for education(UDISE +) effectively elucidates that at the national level only 6.77 per cent of government schools offer English medium instruction and 40.77 per cent of private schools offers English – medium instructions. At the same time, 49.2 per cent of Indian students are enrolled in govt school with an additional 10 per cent in government-aided institutions, while only 38.8 attending private schools(see). These figures show that most Indian students are educated in regional languages, with English-medium schooling limited to a small minority.

The students from non-elite backgrounds who beat the odds and enter the legal profession find it challenging to navigate the complex English-dominated environment of law school.  It is presumed that they are aware of the complexities of the language and the competitive environment at the law school, which further proves pernicious to their academic and mental well-being. Thus, the legal profession continues to replicate class hierarchies and marginalise students from lower socio-economic strata, perpetuating the already existing inequalities. While most law schools seek to offer the English language course at the beginning of their law school career, the course is quite advanced and doesn’t aim to teach English. Rather, it is made for students who are already very good in the language. The 1949 Chagla Committee explicitly affirms that English is the language of the law and developed a substantial portion of the proposed curriculum in English language and literature. English was not treated as a basic skill to be taught from scratch(see p.46-47) but as a medium requiring precision, nuance, and scientific mastery of words and sentences, essential for understanding and practising law. Law schools largely assume advanced English proficiency as a prerequisite, instead of teaching the transition from general English to legal English, which places students from vernacular or non-elite educational backgrounds at a structural disadvantage. (see Teaching Of Legal Language in Indian Law Schools Needs Urgent Attention) For example, in the very first semester in National Law Student Jodhpur, it starts with really hard old plays like The Merchant of Venice and Antigone.(see p.15 NLUJ COURSE CURRICULUM) These are so complex that even students who studied in English – medium schools can find them very difficult to understand. The legal education from its induction in CLATExam, to its culmination in law school, ensures a linguistic disparity and favours the already established linguistic exclusion. Legal education entrenches linguistic disparities. and unequivocally continues to privilege those already positioned within an English-dominant system, thereby reinforcing the existing pattern of exclusion.

C. LINGUISTIC JUSTICE: A CONSTITUTIONAL PERSPECTIVE

Article 14 of the Indian Constitution guarantees equality before the law and equal protection of the laws to all persons within the territory of India. The conduct of the CLAT examination in only the English language creates a de facto classification between English medium schools and vernacular language institutions.      Article 14, as laid down in Budhan Choudhary v State, only permits classification when two conditions are fulfilled: the classification must be found on intelligible differentia, and the differentia must have a rational nexus with the object sought to be achieved. Although Article 14 has since evolved to prohibit arbitrariness as antithetical to equality in the case of E.PP Royappa v. State of Tamil Nadu, reasonable classification remains the threshold when States create explicit categories. In the present situation, the medium of instructions though facially identifiable, is not a constitutionally relevant differentia. The question thus posed is whether “medium of instruction” amounts to intelligible differentia. While the medium may be objectively identifiable, it is not based on merit, aptitude, legal reasoning, or intellectual capacity, which the CLAT examination seeks to test. Rather, the differentiation is rooted in unequal access to linguistic privilege, which has been shaped by the socio-economic background and also historical exclusion. The second imperative question is whether linguistic distinction serves a reasonable nexus with the purpose of CLAT, that is, to examine the suitability of a person to enter into the legal field. The primary purpose of the law entrance exam is to check the logical and legal reasoning, to check the comprehension and analytical ability, as well as to assess the basic quantitative literacy of the aspirant. Instead, what the exam really does is filter out candidates based on their exposure to language rather than their intellectual capacity.   In the case of English Medium Students Parents Association v. State of Karnataka, it was upheld by the Supreme Court that the State cannot impose the medium of instruction on students, and that choice lies with parents and students as part of their personal liberty. In another case of Balraj Mishra, the Allahabad High Court struck down a real barring of answers in Hindi in a departmental promotion exam, holding that a blanket language prohibition without a reasonable nexus is violative of Article 14.  In the landmark judgment of State of Kerala v NM Thomas, it was held that equality of opportunity must be concrete and not just formal and treating unequals alike perpetuates inequality.  The act of denying nearly 75 per cent of students from non-English medium schools stands as a glaring discrimination.  Furthermore, an English-only CLAT also discriminates based on language and socio-economic status, exemplifying a violation of Article 15(1), which prohibits discrimination not only on enumerated grounds but also on closely linked markers that reproduce social hierarchies.   Successively, the right to higher education, affirmed in Unni Krishnan J.P. v. State of Andhra Pradesh under Article 21 of the Indian Constitution within its ambit, is inclusive of the right to life and dignity. And if the only entry barrier to a profession is the language, such an exclusion stands antithetical to the Indian Constitution’s provided fundamental rights.

Article 38(2) of the Indian Constitution dictates the state’s responsibility to unequivocally minimise inequalities in opportunities. It is argued that language disadvantages stand as one such inequality when the state, instead of correcting existing disadvantages reinforce them through striking linguistic exclusion evident in exams such as CLAT.  Further, Article 46 of the Indian Constitution mandates the state to reinstate the educational and economic interests of the weaker sections.

The Constitutional language framework also does not support such exclusion. While Article 343 only recognises English and Hindi as the official languages of the country, the broader theme of the constitution affirms India’s multilingual character. This can be gauged through Article 344 and the Eighth Schedule, which recognises 22 regional languages and creates a mechanism to advance language policy. Also, Articles 350A–B and 29 constitutionally mandate mother-tongue education and linguistic inclusion in administration. Such provisions effectively indicate that language directly affects access, participation and dignity.  Furthermore, Article 351 stipulates that even the development of Hindi must derive from and subsume expressions from the other scheduled languages, thereby marking the development of other scheduled languages as well. Read with the Official Languages Act, 1963 and Parliament’s 1968 Resolution, these provisions in their entirety accord a clear duty on the state to promote and advance India’s diverse languages across governance, education and public life. An English-only CLAT, therefore, cannot be justified as neutral or fair, as it unambiguously ignores the deep inequality that exists in accessing the privileged language, thus diluting educational dignity and going against India’s constitutional commitment to linguistic inclusion.

D.  WAY FORWARD: DEMOCRATISING THE LANGUAGE OF LAW

While the law, treatises and commentary are written in English, the language of the law and legal education should not be different from the language of the people. As the American jurist Roscoe pound famously stated that the law must be studies and administered with a view to its social consequences, and must be intelligible to those for whom it is intended, it can’t be disputed that law derives its legitimacy from those whom it governs and therefore to deny admission to students from non- English background, the law glaringly becomes alienated and propitious to a small privileged minority. Privileging English perpetuates unnecessary cognitive and cultural barriers, suppresses diverse perspective and undermines the constitutional vision of equality, dignity and participatory justice. The sudden shift to regional languages for legal instruction would be impractical and potentially destabilising. A sudden shift may create inconsistencies in interpretation,  teaching and evaluation, leading students, faculty and judiciary struggling to operate with multiple languages simultaneously.  This could prove desultory and might also augment the language politics existing within India. However, entrance examinations such as CLAT and other law admission tests shall be made available in the languages that are enumerated in the Eighth Schedule of the Constitution. The National Testing Agency has previously informed the Delhi High Court that it is possible to conduct CLAT in other regional languages.

This reform will be in affinity with the constitutional reverence to equality under Article 14 and the directive principle of the state to eradicate inequalities in educational opportunity mentioned in Article 38(2) of the Constitution of India. Also,  Article 46 of the Constitution of India mandates that the state shall promote the weaker sections of people and protect them from social injustice.

The legal education in the higher institutions must be reformed with a conscious attempt to be more inclusive and supportive of linguistically diverse backgrounds. Support classes could be provided to people lacking proficiency in the language, and the course and the pedagogy must also be altered. While many law schools already mandate such courses, the persistence of the problem suggests that either these programs are insufficient or are not correctly implemented, of struggles in addressing the depth that is required to understand legal English; better structured and monitored support mechanisms are required. The law could be simplified with the introduction of simple and more comprehensible English. Colloquial English must be facilitated, and it must be ensured that the legal profession is not subsequently hindered by non-proficiency in one’s language. The marking criteria that exist in top law schools must also ensure that people are marked on their logical and legal reasoning rather than their way of writing. It becomes imperative for the legal field that the profession doesn’t become elusive to those whom it seeks to govern, and an equal opportunity is provided to people from non-elite backgrounds to thrive in the profession where privilege already prevails.

Critics that opposes conduction of CLAT in multiple language firstly cites that the exam is built on such linguistic nuance that a translation would be tantamount to distortion. Ultimately, it would be difficult to ascertain a single unified fair rank list of candidates who will take the paper in different languages. Law is said to be a game of words, and inaccurate translation might mean disadvantage to one group over another. To move away from the English-centric nature of the law would invariably compromise standardisation and, as per critics, result in dilution of the pedagogical ambition these premier law institutions intend to take.

But to insist that excellence in legal education must be filtered only through the usage of English is an erroneous inference and a blatant disregard of India’s federal and linguistic structure, where governance, subordinate courts, local legislation and legal proceedings evidently operate in regional languages. The real purpose of an entrance exam to regurgitate must be to identify reasoning and analytical ability, and not to check one’s privilege. Difficulty in translation is a technical challenge, and the national testing agency has stated that it can conduct CLAT in regional languages as well. A multilingual CLAT would strengthen Indian jurisprudence by rooting more deeply in the existing linguistic and social reality.

Subsequently, more legal exploration could be done in languages other than English. Scholars must attempt to diversify their exposition, and linguistic experts could be viable for elucidating the laws in regional languages. Legal awareness must also spread through small towns and villages, and awareness about CLAT and other national examinations could also prove propitious. Organisations like IDIA illustrate the transformative power of such initiatives. The legislation shall ensure that a wide legal glossary for major subjects is developed in languages other than English.

In a society that has long been predicated on division and linguistic inferiority, the legal field must foster inclusivity. The true democratisation of the legal profession may happen only once India transcends the notion that proficiency in English equals competency. As long as the language that governs us remains detached from the masses, the profession will fail to deliver the promise of equal opportunity that the Indian Constitution entails. The law must speak in the language of the people, and then can it really serve them.

Udit Jain is a third-year student at National Law University, Jodhpur. He writes on subjects exploring the humanistic side of law, reflecting his interest in constitutional law and human rights law. He has also authored articles relating to commercial disputes and arbitration law. Beyond law, Udit shares a deep interest in music, art, cinema, and poetry.

Aakansh Vijay is a third-year student at National Law University Jodhpur. He shares his affinity for subjects of public international law and constitutional law. He, along with his academic interest, is passionate about social initiatives and community engagement.