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| Abdolsattar Doshouki is a political analyst, activist, and the director of the Balochistan Studies Center in London. |
Deprivation from education in one’s mother tongue is not only a disregard for the flawed constitution of the Islamic Republic of Iran and a blatant violation of human rights but also has significant consequences for the future well-being and civic participation of Iran's ethnic groups, particularly the Baluch, Turks, Arabs, Turkmen, and Kurds. To understand this unjust and painful reality, one must confront the bitter truth of persistent discrimination in our country.
The majority of Farsi-speaking children in Tehran, Mashhad, Kerman, Shiraz, Isfahan, Yazd, and hundreds of other cities begin their education in their mother tongue with relatively abundant resources. The primary challenge for these children is learning to write and read the alphabet. However, in Baluchistan and other ethnic or national regions of Iran, in addition to learning the alphabet and numbers, children must also learn a new language called Farsi. Many researchers and education experts believe that mandatory education in a language other than one's mother tongue is one of the main causes of educational decline and school dropout at the very start of the educational journey.
Let us set aside the bitter reality that we Baluchis, studying in thatched schools without resources, are expected to compete in university entrance exams with peers from Tehran. A personal example: for me, the word "jam" referred to tropical trees with cherry-shaped fruits tasting like figs behind the old post and telegraph office in Chabahar, built by the British 130 years ago. A significant part of my intellectual effort went into learning that there is a world of difference between the tree "jam" and the mathematical concept of addition, or between "mamnoo" (prohibited) and "mamteni" (reluctant), among countless other examples. Thus, I grew up in elementary school grappling with the multiplication of injustices, the subtraction of opportunities, and the division of inequities, only to sing anthems of pride for my country—a country where I was a second- or third-class citizen.
When I grew up and, as the first university student from Chabahar, went to Tehran to study medicine, I was shocked. Most of my Farsi-speaking classmates from various parts of the country complained about the government and existing shortages. Compared to their grievances, I remained silent because I knew that these dissatisfied individuals could never understand the depth of our pain as Baluchis. More than 35 years have passed since those days, and still, they do not understand.
My discussion is not about the debates over terms such as ethnicity or nationality. My argument is much more fundamental and practical, far removed from these fabricated controversies. If we are all Iranians—and we are—then educational resources in areas like Baluchistan must be at least double those in Tehran or Isfahan because a Baluch child faces dual challenges in their rudimentary school. In addition to learning the alphabet and numbers, they must also learn the unfamiliar Farsi language. Yet, alas, the situation in our country has always been the opposite (and I hope it changes in the future). It must be said: "If the first brick is laid crooked, the wall will remain crooked to the heavens." This is how the crooked wall of Farsi and our "even more crooked" destiny as Baluchis continues in this "glorious" country.
Despite the United Nations General Assembly's 2009 resolution emphasizing the protection and full preservation of linguistic and cultural heritage worldwide, we remain stuck in a rut.
From a linguistic perspective, over two-thirds of the world's countries have populations smaller than Baluchistan's. Yet, in Iran’s Baluchistan, education in the Baluchi language is prohibited, while in Pakistan's Baluchistan, Baluchi is an official language. According to Afghanistan's constitution, Baluchi is also a recognized language.
Globally, many ethnic and "national" groups are deliberately and oppressively deprived of the right to mother-tongue education. The Tamil language is a stark example. Ranked 18th among the world's living languages, the Tamil-speaking people were brutally suppressed (and annihilated) by the central government of Sri Lanka, with the support of some countries, including Iran, for demanding their political, cultural, and linguistic rights.
According to Article 15 of the Constitution of the Islamic Republic, the official language and script of the Iranian people is Farsi. Official documents, correspondence, and textbooks must be in this language and script. However, the use of ethnic and local languages in media and teaching their literature in schools alongside Farsi is permitted.
Nevertheless, despite this constitutional right, learning in one’s mother tongue is viewed not as a right but as a potential security threat. This discriminatory attitude has been propagated not only by the Pahlavi dynasty but also by the Islamic Republic regime.
My discussion has never been about separatism or being "anti-Fars." My argument is that if the country’s rulers and Farsi-speaking compatriots genuinely wish for us to sing the anthem "Ey Iran" better than native Farsi speakers, learn Farsi, and be a contributing part of Iranian society, they must provide us with double the educational resources compared to Farsi speakers.
You cannot deprive us, oppress us, subject us to double discrimination, and then expect us to sing "Ey Iran, Ey Marz-e Por Gohar" louder and more enthusiastically than Tehranis and Isfahanis.
Today, among more than 70,000 university students in Sistan and Baluchistan Province, less than 15% are Baluchis, and over 60% of them study at Azad University. This means that less than 7% of in-person university students in the province are Baluchis, even though Baluchis comprise over 70% of the province's population. In practice, this means we have achieved only 10% of our rights in our "beloved country." Is this truly a source of pride in being Iranian?
Unfortunately, our compatriots in other parts of Iran do not comprehend the deeply rooted and criminal nature of this discrimination.
UNESCO Director-General Irina Bokova, in her message for International Mother Language Day, emphasized that the first comprehensible sounds are expressed through the mother tongue. This day provides an opportunity to understand the importance of mother languages and mobilize efforts to promote multilingual education and linguistic diversity. The mother tongue is a core element of identity, and education in the mother tongue is a highly effective method for combating discrimination and ensuring societal well-being.
Unfortunately, the Islamic Republic, considering itself "exceptional," shows no practical commitment to its own constitution or international treaties and charters it has ratified.
The culture of discrimination and humiliation of others has become institutionalized in Iran, particularly among those living in central areas. Under the influence of propaganda like "Art belongs exclusively to Iranians" and "Farsi is sugar-sweet", many fail to understand the simple truth that everyone’s mother tongue is "sugar" to them, not just Farsi. In Baluchi, too, we say, "Baluchi mei vati shadin zabanant" (Baluchi is my sweet language).
In closing, for those who claim Baluchi is a dialect of Farsi, I invite you to read this popular Baluchi verse and see how "close" these "similarities" truly are:
"Ganokkan dela ke pe taw peher bandit / Tachokin ap puchta keshk rendit."
The link to the original article in Farsi on Rooz Online:
ظلم مضاعفی که رفته و میرود