Where does the crisis of language, identity, and cultural nation-building come from?
By Fayaz Bahraman Najimi, regional and international affairs analyst, member of the Sangar Advisory Council
Original article: تاجیکها و هزارهها: شکست پروژهی فارسیزبانان
Over the past centuries, nation-building as a modern process has been based on language, historical memory, and shared narratives. Unlike traditional and pre-modern views that derived identity from blood, race, or tribe, modern thinking sees language as the "house of being" and the foundation of historical and political subject formation.
Yet in the Persian-speaking world — especially among peoples like the Tajiks and Hazaras — there remains a deep deficit of modern thought. The inability to overcome ethnic and tribal paradigms is the main obstacle to cultural nation-building and the realization of the right to self-determination.
In this article, I aim to show how the Persian language can be not just a tool for communication, but a space of social being and a source of modern identity. Referring briefly to the philosophical views of Martin Heidegger and John Rawls in legal theory and the social contract, as well as to historical examples from France and the United States, I seek to explain why Persian-speakers have failed to shift from ethnic kinship-worship to language as memory and discourse, and thus have not become a modern nation.
In traditional thinking, ethnic identity is defined by lineage, origin, tribe, and geography. In such a structure, language is merely a tool of communication or expression, not the root of being or a structure that shapes collective self-consciousness. But modern thinking — especially since the 19th century — has placed language at the heart of nation-building, historical consciousness, and political subjectivity.
Martin Heidegger, in his book Poetry, Language, Thought, calls language the “house of being”: a place where humans recognize themselves, comprehend the world, and make storytelling possible. Without language, there is no history, no memory, no future.
For Persian-speaking peoples like Tajiks and Hazaras, the Persian language should not merely be a tool of expression. It must become the foundation for understanding the world, a carrier of civilizational memory, and a space for forming modern identity. If, instead of being Tajik or Hazara, we identify as Persian-speakers, we enter the realm of cultural nation-building — and, in Hegel’s words, create “diversity in unity.” But as long as ethnic nationalism prevails over cultural-linguistic identity, no nation will form, and no modern subject will emerge.
During the republican period in the so-called state of Afghanistan, an attempt was made to build a nation based on civil rights and constitutional order. This included promoting modern concepts such as citizenship, equal rights, and elections to create an “Afghan” nation. But the model completely failed because it ignored the cultural, linguistic, and historical foundations of various peoples, especially Persian speakers. Any future attempt at nation-building will also fail unless multiethnic states create a unified name and language for all.
In the Afghan project, not only was the Persian language not strengthened, it was also repressed and culturally marginalized. Education, media, and official institutions focused on Pashtunization and imposing the Pashto language. Persian-speakers lacked both the tools to defend their identity and a theory of cultural nation-building.
The result was the collapse of the idea of citizenship, the rise of ethnic fractures, and even a preference for Pashtun dominance over cultural unity between Tajiks and Hazaras. Why? Because there was no shared language for dialogue, no common narrative, and no political imagination.
To understand the role of language in nation-building, consider the instructive experience of 18th-century France. After the 1789 Revolution, the revolutionary government not only emphasized civil rights but also launched a strict program of mandatory French language education, elimination of dialects, and linguistic unification. Despite local resistance, this policy laid the foundation for French national identity.
In the United States, despite racial diversity, the English language was adopted as national and became the basis of political imagination, mass education, and legal culture. American identity is rooted in a shared language, not skin color or religion.
In contrast to these examples, Afghanistan never recognized a common language as a prerequisite for nation-building. Persian — which could have served as a civilizational mediator — was not strengthened or acknowledged. The result was fake nationhood and rootless citizenship.
John Rawls, in A Theory of Justice, writes that justice is only possible when parties accept the terms of a social contract in a space of equal dialogue. But such dialogue is impossible without a common language. Language is essential for ethical dialogue, mutual understanding, and human empathy.
Without a shared language, the “social contract” becomes an empty concept — as happened in the Afghan republic, which collapsed due to a lack of such a contract. Rights become meaningful and claimable only when rooted in language and shared memory. Language is not just a means of expressing rights; it is the foundation for the concepts of justice, citizenship, and human dignity.
Referring briefly to the views of the two thinkers mentioned above, it is worth noting that the poverty of legal-philosophical thought among Persian speakers is deeply concerning. The inability to grasp the role of language in achieving justice and the absence of an independent legal theory are key reasons for the lack of a cultural Persian discourse.
In the Iranshahri tradition, nationhood was defined not by blood but by culture and language. The empires of “historical Iran” were built not on racial grounds, but on linguistic, religious, and civilizational unity. In this tradition, Persian was a means of interaction, political action, and discourse formation.
This historical experience can be a starting point for cultural nation-building among Persian speakers within the boundaries of present-day Afghanistan.
To rely on the Persian language as a language of philosophy, justice, and memory is not an act of coercion, but one of liberation. This language — as it was for Ferdowsi, Razi, Bedil, and Iqbal — was a space of creation, and for us today it can become the language of the social contract, of resistant subjectivity, and of rebuilding the future.
If today Tajiks and Hazaras continue to mistrust each other instead of seeking cultural unity — and unfortunately, many of their intellectuals still prefer the idea of an “Afghan nation” at the expense of their own identity and language — then the collapse into the abyss of cultural loss is inevitable.
I believe that the root of the poverty of modern thought lies in clinging to pre-modern ethnic identity, which in turn stems from a lack of philosophical understanding of the role of language, a lack of independent legal theory, and intellectual dependency on failed republican models.
This intellectual poverty blocks the creation of emancipatory narratives, civic organization, and cultural resistance. Without restoring theoretical foundations, no political or cultural unity is possible.
What is to be done?
If Persian speakers want to overcome historical marginalization, they must embrace the project of cultural nation-building based on the Persian language as the only path to liberation. This path begins with language, continues through philosophy and law, and leads to a social contract and the right to self-determination.
Heidegger, Rawls, and the historical experience of other nations teach us: without language, there is no subject, no justice, and no future. If we fail to restore Persian as our house of being today, tomorrow we will face further destruction. And this time, not from without, but from within.
