Dress, bearing, behavour and language are symbolic codes. They convey meaning all right, but that is not necessarily, or only, straightforward meaning. They also send messages about your socio-economic class, your ethnic identity, your occupational identity and where you belong in the power-hierarchy of a society. Being messages, they evoke responses from others. These response are both intellectual and emotional. That is, people will negotiate your meaning through many clues of which words, tone, body language and dress code are the most important clue. Thus they will also discern what you imply when you mean the opposite of what you say. Moreover, they will react with emotions to your messages---love, hatred, contempt and so on.
One way to analyze both the sartorial language (what
dress means) and human language (what words, tones, silences etc mean) is to
relate them to power in a society. Since they are related to power both dress
and language are generally meant to create, perpetuate and rationalize
inequality in society. Let us look at this proposition with respect to Pakistan
and the Muslims of North India whose culture still dominates urban Pakistan.
First, one models one’s dress and language on those of
the powerful classes as much as possible. If one sees medieval paintings one
finds people in cloaks and other Mughal clothes. These, however, are generally
upper class people or those who aspire to come into the upper classes. The peasants,
whose dress is rarely mentioned, used to wear a loincloth. They simply could
not afford the flowing roles and cloaks. When power came to rest with the
British, the dress code changed slowly. Indians who went into government
service put on the English dress and learned the English language. The Hindus
elite, which had earlier learnt Persian and put on Mughlai clothes, now
discarded both in favour of English and suits. Clothes, however, were not
discarded in all spheres of life. Nehru’s family, for instance, were the sherwanis (frock coat) in common with
the Muslim elite. However, the sphere of the sherwani was different from that of the suit. The former was used
to symbolize both gentlemanly (ashraf)
status and indigenous identity. The latter was used to communicate modernity,
employment in the modern sector, power in the modern structure created by the
British etc. The language too was functionally divided. While intimacy was
indicated by speaking in one’s mother tongue, power, urbanity, education and elitism
was indicated by using English.
Both clothes and language served as markers of
socio-economic class, urban-rural identity and gender. Poor people could not
afford either sherwanis or suits.
They kept wearing local clothes. In Pakistan this has come to be shlwar-kamiz (a suit of baggy Turkish
trousers and long, loose shirt) in the urban areas. However, even now Punjabi
villagers wear a version of the loincloth as do villagers in India. Indeed,
this is one difference between urban and rural people. The other one is that
the rural elite, proud as it is of its landed power and indigenous roots, wears
the local dress along with a headwear. The headwear (pag) symbolizes power. It is not the dress of the peasants except
on the rare occasion of a marriage or some such ceremonial occasion.
Corresponding to this, the common man speaks the mother-tongue---Punjabi,
Sindhi, Pashto, Siraiki, Urdu etc---while the urban working class, except in
small towns, has learnt a bit of Urdu. Urdu is the language of the powerful
Mughlai culture while dominates Pakistani cities.
Interestingly, women have always preserved the indigenous
identity among the Muslims of South Asia. When the men made their bid for power
by learning English and donning suits, they felt insecure. If one reads Akbar
Allahabadi one finds the fear of losing identity expressed clearly. But even
Sir Syed, modernist reformer though he was, expresses this fear at places.
Among other things he (Sir Syed) is neither in favour of women seeking British
education nor wearing Western dress. Indeed, even when enterprising women like
Attiya Faizi did go for higher studies abroad, they did not take to skirts.
Women kept wearing the traditional dress, complete with a dopatta (cover for the breasts), while men went around in shirt and
trousers. Women’s clothes gave the message that they were preservers of indigenous
values; that, appearances notwithstanding, the Indian Muslim community had not
been completely Westernized. These attitudes remain to this day but they are changing
in the urban, Westernized elite now. Thus there are some women, generally young
ones, in jeans in the big cities of Pakistan. But, surprisingly enough, when
women wore skirts in Tehran and Kabul, they generally went around in shalwar-qamiz (albeit tight ‘teddy’
ones) in Pakistani cities. Indeed, our women entirely missed the skirt---even
the long one---though they did switch on to jeans. The jeans, like every other
item of clothing, gives a message---that the wearer is not tradition-bound, not
orthodox or revivalist in her interpretation of Islam, not rural, not poor, not
uneducated and so on. It is as much a badge of the upper classes; the more
Westernized families, as English itself. Indeed, jeans generally go with good
English accents.
To sum up the discussion so far, the power-structure of
Pakistan favours the rich over the poor; the modern over the pre-modern; men
over women; the urban over the rural and the Westernized over the traditional.
These values and attitudes give rise to our interpretation of dress codes and
language codes. People in Western dress are seen as being placed higher in the
power-hierarchy than those in indigenous ones (unless, of course, the latter
are feudal lords). People in suits may be seen to be powerful executives or
bureaucrats or simply somewhat out-of-fashion gentlemen. The casual clothes of
the young, elitist, urban youngsters place them in the upper classes even,
indeed especially, if the shirt is
crumpled and the jeans, or shorts, torn and worn off.
The language hierardy places English at the top with Urdu
as number two. In Sindh, however, they are proud of Sindhi and the Sindhi
nationalists use it on all possible occasions. In the Pashto-speaking areas,
although Urdu words have entered Pashto, Pashto is a matter of pride and identity.
In Balochistan, there is no culture shame any more about speaking Brahvi and
Balochi though, of course, Urdu words are extremely common and city people are
forced to function in Urdu because their schooling is in Urdu and someone or the other in the company
in which the conversation is going on does not knew Brahvi or Balochi. But in
the Punjab the educated middle class of the cities has affectionate contempt
for Punjabi. When educated men speak in Punjabi they convey the message that
they are intimate, friendly, causal, down-to-earth and equal in status to each
other. On all formal occasions and with one’s superiors one initiates a
conversation in Urdu, or English, but it is up to the superior to choose to
reply in Punjabi. Educated women, being more conscious of the rural
associations and inferior status of Punjabi, choose to speak in Urdu (or
English) unless they are not fluent in Urdu.
The change from Punjabi to Urdu, and from Persian to
English, has come about under British rule. In the Punjab, it was in the 1850s
that the first British schools teaching in Urdu were established. It was also
then that the English-medium schools were also established. Functioning only in
Punjabi puts you in the lower, or rural, classes; speaking in Punjabi and Urdu
puts you in the middle classes; and functioning in all three, but with complete
ease and fluency in English, puts you in the upper, and urban, classes.
Along with this change came the change in titles and
forms of address. The major change was from maulvi
to mister; hakeem ji to doctor sahib;
ustad ji to master sahib and then sir
and so on. The old titles of maulvi,
munshi, Hakeem etc lost caste and came to be reserved only for the
indigenous, less-powerful, traditional elite. Anyone connected with the modern
apparatus of power was addressed as Sahib
or Sir. The women were Ma’am (corrupted to Mem
sahib) or Begum Sahiba. The older
formula of expressing politeness was still not to use only first names. One
used the first names of people younger than one’s self or if they were junior
i.e. less powerful or inferior in the social hierarchy. Politeness with
equality consisted in using a honorific before the name and also one after it
(i.e. Mohtarma Benazir Bhutto Sahiba where both Mohtarma and Sahiba are honorifics). This continues even today among
the more traditional members of the urban Pakistani elite. One can witness it
in the universities where people use the mutual ‘Doctor Sahib’ with each other.
It communicates politeness, equality as colleagues and mutual respect.
However, a change is underway. It comes, as with most
changes in our part of the world, from the powerful sections of our society.
Indeed, like the English language, European clothes and Western titles (doctor,
mister etc), this change also comes from the West.
The change is the use of first names without honorifics
between colleagues, even business acquaintances and even strangers. This change
occurred in Western society over the past fifty years. In Pakistan it is hardly
ten years old. Those who are introducing it do so from a position of power.
They are powerful members of a small elite which controls institutions and
processes in the non-governmental sector of Pakistan. They act in the name of
equality neglecting the fact that if both people use honorifics and name than
they do act as equals anyway.
This change, in my opinion, is an expression of power;
the power which a small but powerful, highly Westernized, elite possesses to
change the norms of behaviour of a larger community. The change entails breaking
the norms we have in our mind. It is painful and embarrassing for those who are
used to different norms of linguistic politeness. However, the change is coming
and it is no use trying to wish it away.
Part of this change is also the non-use of titles.
However, only academic titles have been abandoned in the West. Titles of feudal
power (nawabs, sardars, princes,
dukes, lords etc) are still used. Titles of ecclesiastical power Moulana, Ayatollah, cardinal, bishop etc)
are also used. Moreover, modern bureaucratic and military titles are also used.
The only titles which have been abandoned are academic titles (doctor,
professor). Indeed, doctor has been appropriated almost exclusively by
physicians (even with bachelor’s degrees). This change is coming in Pakistan
too. This would indicate that elites with real power---such as the
military---will preserve their titles (in this case the rank is also the title)
while the elite with no real power will lose theirs. However, in this case,
those who are losing their titles, the academics, are the ones who are in the
forefront of the movement for abandoning them. The irony is that even academics
show much unbecoming deference to military, bureaucratic, feudal and
ecclesiastical titles even while making a big show about not using each others’
academic titles in the name of equality and democracy.
Another change is in women’s language. I shall confine
myself only to Urdu used in North India in the nineteenth century since I have
read evidence of this Begmati Zuban.
Women used words (like Hai Allah, nauj,
nigori, jharu phira. mardua etc) which denoted seclusion from men and
interaction with each other. Their words and expressions denoted powerlessness
as well as dependence too. The vocabulary they developed in the women’s
quarters (zenana) was different from
the more standardized Urdu spoken by the men. This language can now be found
only in some novels and in the genre of poetry called Rekhti. This has changed now
and women speak almost like men---almost, because a few pet expressions like Hae Allah may sometimes be heard among
women. Here, as in other spheres, clothes can be a guide. Briefly, the more
Westernized the women’s dress; the greater is the degree to which she speaks
Urdu like the men. In English, of course, the gender differences almost
disappeared a long time back.
All ages appear like ages of flux to contemporaries. But
our age really is an age of very fast change. Our lifestyles are changing and
language and dress codes are the greatest indicators of change. So next time
you see a jeans-clad youngster talking in American slang and using abbreviated
spellings on the e-mail, you should know you are face-to-face with the future.
And when you see an old man in loincloth chattering away in Punjabi, that would
be the past. But, that is not all. The youth also represents a symbol of power;
the old man of lack of power. Languages and dress codes tell you who is
powerful. Thus, if you were ever fooled by ‘casual wear parties’, do not be
fooled any more. They are clubs of the very powerful who can afford to be
‘casual’---something which most of us would not even know how to try.