Language, culture and thought: exploring the ties that bind
A classroom in rural Punjab
In the mid-1960s, a boy named Abdul Hameed sat in the front row of a small primary school in a Punjabi village. The school stood just across from his house, and every morning his mother would appear at the low boundary wall—barely three feet high—calling his name softly as she handed him a glass of milk mixed with almonds, her quiet way of nourishing her only child.
His classmates called him “Meedo Tonty,” a Punjabi nickname meaning “idiot.” It is difficult to imagine how a young child could endure such daily humiliation—from peers and, at times, even teachers. The name had nothing to do with his intelligence; it revealed a tragic gap between the language of his home and the language of his education. Like most of his neighbors, Abdul spoke only Punjabi at home, while the school curriculum was entirely in Urdu—the national language of Pakistan, rich with Persian and Arabic roots but foreign to his ear.
He was not alone. Others bore similar scars of ridicule: Riaz Budhoo (“stupid”), Muhammad Hussain Posti (“lazy”), Riaz Katta (“buffalo calf”), and Shabbir Ahmad Chabba Loola (“handicapped”). These cruel nicknames reflected not just childish mockery but an ingrained disdain for those who struggled with rote learning.
Urdu, unfamiliar outside the classroom, resisted their tongues. Friends and teachers laughed at their pronunciation, their attempts to name pictures from the textbook. Abdul repeated grades again and again, spending ten long years in primary school before finally quitting to herd goats for a living. Years later, when I met some of our old classmates, their faces grew somber at the mention of those boys—the bright, tender souls who became outcasts simply because they could not master the language that was supposed to educate them.
My personal experience echoes this story. Growing up in a Punjabi-speaking household, Urdu was a foreign language. English subject began in the sixth grade. By then the author’s capacity for accent‑free language learning had already begun to close. The family did not own a dictionary; I first heard of such a book only in the eighth grade when my elder brother mentioned it. “If there is really a book that carries the meanings of all words,” I thought, “I can learn whatever I wish.” These memories illustrate how linguistic barriers can distort educational outcomes and influence a person’s self‑perception.
Does language shape thought?
The idea that the language we speak shapes our worldview – linguistic relativity – has long been controversial. An essay in Aeon notes that learning a second language can feel like “stepping from one world into another,” because each language compels its speakers to talk and think in particular ways . Yet linguists disagree over whether languages merely reflect different realities or actively create them. Historically this debate traces back to Johann Gottfried Herder and Wilhelm von Humboldt. Humboldt argued that language is “the forming organ of thought,” suggesting a dialectical relationship: our thoughts shape our words and our words shape our thoughts . Modern experimental work has tested this idea.
Space and time
In an Aboriginal community in Pormpuraaw (northern Australia) the language Kuuk Thaayorre has no words for “left” or “right.” Instead, speakers describe spatial relations in absolute cardinal directions. They might say, “The cup is southeast of the plate,” even when speaking at the dinner table . Because they must stay oriented to speak properly, Kuuk Thaayorre speakers outperform scientists and students from other cultures in tasks that require tracking direction . When these speakers arrange pictures showing temporal progressions (e.g., a banana being eaten), they lay them out from east to west, aligning time with their spatial orientation . English speakers, by contrast, typically arrange time from left to right, while Hebrew speakers lay it out right to left, mirroring their writing systems . These studies suggest that language-specific spatial metaphors influence how people map time onto space.
Agency and memory
Languages also differ in how they describe events. English tends to encode the agent: “John broke the vase.” Spanish and Japanese often omit the agent: “Se rompió el florero” (the vase broke) . In experiments where participants watched videos of intentional and accidental actions, speakers of English, Spanish and Japanese remembered the perpetrators of intentional acts equally well. For accidents, however, Spanish and Japanese speakers were less likely to mention — and later remember — who caused the mishap . Their languages’ tendency to downplay agency made the agents less salient in memory. The findings illustrate how grammar can shape what we attend to and recall.
Colour and perception
The link between language and perception appears even at basic sensory levels. Russian and Lithuanian have distinct words for light blue and dark blue, while English uses the single word blue. Recent research from the Norwegian University of Science and Technology showed that bilinguals who speak Lithuanian and Norwegian distinguished between light and dark blue faster when using Lithuanian than when using Norwegian . The study concluded that the language being used can influence colour perception and that this effect is dynamic; switching languages changes how quickly the brain identifies colours .
Numbers, gender and implicit bias
Languages also encode numbers and gender differently. Chinese number words transparently reveal the base‑10 structure, which helps children grasp decimal concepts earlier than English‑speaking children . Hebrew marks gender extensively, Finnish does not, and English falls in between; consequently, Hebrew‑speaking children figure out their own gender about a year earlier than Finnish‑speaking children . Studies of bilinguals show that implicit biases can shift with language: Arabic–Hebrew bilinguals tested in Hebrew showed more positive attitudes toward Jews than when tested in Arabic . Language can subtly prime social attitudes.
English: a linguistic oddity
One might assume that English, with its global influence, is a model of linguistic normalcy. Linguist John McWhorter points out that this is far from the case. In an Aeon essay he notes that English is the only Indo‑European language that does not assign grammatical gender to nouns . English verbs require a special ending only in the third‑person singular (I talk, you talk, he talks) . To form questions and negatives, English inserts the auxiliary do (“Do you walk?”, “I do not walk”), a feature otherwise found only in a few Celtic languages . These quirks arose because Old English underwent contact with Celtic speakers and later with Viking settlers who learned English imperfectly and streamlined its grammar . Normans then flooded English with French vocabulary, and Renaissance scholars imported Latin words, creating layers of synonyms: help (English), aid (French) and assist (Latin) . This motley history gives English a rich but irregular lexicon.
English’s irregularities challenge learners like Abdul Hameed. Without exposure at home, the rules seem arbitrary. Yet the story of English also illustrates how languages evolve through contact and adaptation. No language is fixed; they all borrow, simplify or complicate depending on social pressures. Recognising this malleability fosters empathy for learners struggling with imposed tongues.
Brain plasticity and the “elastic brain”
Neuroscience helps explain why Abdul Hameed’s brain “resisted” Urdu. Critical periods in early childhood are times when the brain is especially receptive to certain types of learning. After adolescence, brain plasticity decreases: most people retain an accent when learning a new language . The critical period for achieving native‑like fluency may close around age 17 or 18. A 2018 study published in Cognition found that learners who began studying a second language after age 10 rarely reached native-level fluency; the ability to learn languages drops sharply after late adolescence . This decline is not due to an absolute inability to learn but to reduced plasticity and limited time for immersion .
Although adult brains become less flexible, they are not rigid. Neuroscientist Takao Hensch explains that adult learning is possible because synapses continue to adapt; survivors of strokes can relearn speech when their brains form new connections . In experiments, researchers have reopened critical periods in animals by manipulating neurotransmitters. Drugs such as valproate have helped adults acquire perfect pitch, a skill normally limited to children . Hensch’s work raises the possibility of temporarily enhancing plasticity in adults to accelerate language learning or musical training . While such pharmacological interventions remain experimental, they highlight the biological basis of the author’s observation that new languages learned after the sixth grade often come with a permanent accent.
Language and thought: interdependent but distinct
Even as linguistic relativity gains empirical support, cognitive scientists caution against determinism. A 2024 Scientific American interview with Evelina Fedorenko notes that high‑level cognition can proceed without language . People with severe aphasia who cannot understand or produce words still solve math problems and reason about social situations . The brain regions that process language are distinct from those used for logic, music or spatial reasoning . Fedorenko argues that language acts like telepathy, allowing us to transmit thoughts, but it is not the source of thought itself . Animals and pre‑verbal infants demonstrate problem‑solving abilities without language . Thus, while our languages influence what we notice and remember, they do not imprison us in rigid cognitive worlds.
This nuance matters when considering the failures of Abdul Hameed’s school. His difficulty was not due to a biological inability to think; it stemmed from an educational system that ignored his cognitive strengths. Forced to memorise Urdu vocabulary without context, he was judged as slow. Had teachers allowed him to explore concepts in Punjabi first, he might have thrived. Language can facilitate learning when it resonates with a learner’s existing cognitive structures, but it can also hinder when it becomes an obstacle.
Language as cultural memory and health
Language does more than mediate thought; it encodes culture. The ASU News piece “Lost languages mean lost cultures” emphasises that language is a “vessel for historical memory — it holds place names, cultural values, ceremonial knowledge, and the stories of resistance and survival” . Every two weeks, another language disappears, often leaving no written record . Linguist Tyler Peterson warns that most of the hundreds of Indigenous languages spoken in North America are critically endangered . Revitalising these languages deepens cultural understanding and enriches education for both speakers and non‑speakers .
Revival efforts have broader benefits. A 2025 review by researchers at the University of British Columbia analysed 260 studies from Canada, the United States, Australia and New Zealand. They found that 78 per cent of studies linked Indigenous language vitality with improved health outcomes, including better mental health, stronger educational performance and lower suicide rates . Providing health services in Indigenous languages increased patient understanding and adherence to treatment , whereas using a second language led to misdiagnoses; for example, Inuit children were often misdiagnosed when tested in English rather than in Inuktitut . Speaking ancestral languages also supported identity, self‑esteem and cultural pride . Researchers urged governments to treat Indigenous languages as a social determinant of health and to support language programs and culturally safe healthcare .
These findings highlight why language loss is a public health issue. When a language disappears, people lose not only a set of words but also practices, ecological knowledge and coping strategies honed over generations. Conversely, learning or teaching Indigenous languages can help communities heal from historical trauma . For migrant families, maintaining a heritage language fosters belonging and mitigates the psychological stress of assimilation.
Language, culture and identity
Language is deeply tied to identity. In many cultures, the mother tongue is the first lens through which children encounter the world. It shapes how they categorize colours, track space and time, describe events, count, and even conceive of themselves as male or female. Forcing a different language too early can create a dissonance between home and school, as Abdul Hameed’s story illustrates. He was not alone; many children around the world struggle when education systems disregard their linguistic backgrounds.
In Pakistan and India numerous public schools teach in national or colonial languages rather than local languages. Children who speak only Punjabi, Sindhi or Pashto at home are expected to learn Urdu or English without transitional support. Parents often value these languages for their social and economic capital, but if instruction is not grounded in the child’s mother tongue, the result can be alienation and dropout. Bilingual education, which builds literacy in the native language before introducing a second language, has been shown to improve outcomes. The author’s belated discovery of a dictionary symbolized access to knowledge; had such tools been available earlier in his community, more students might have continued their studies.
At the same time, languages evolve and borrow. English’s history of assimilation shows that languages thrive when they adapt to new realities. Rather than purism, multilingualism allows individuals to navigate multiple cultural worlds. Studies of bilinguals show that switching languages can shift perception and even implicit attitudes . Learning new languages expands one’s cognitive and cultural repertoire, enabling empathy for different perspectives.
Weaving together language, thought and culture
The evidence reviewed here suggests that language influences thought but does not wholly determine it. Languages are cognitive toolkits, each offering unique ways to classify and interpret experience . Spatial metaphors shape how we map time; grammatical structures influence memory and perception; vocabulary affects how we perceive colours and numbers. Yet the brain retains a capacity for abstract reasoning and problem‑solving independent of language . Our neural architecture allows us to think in images, sounds or concepts that transcend words.
Language also preserves culture. It carries histories, values and ecological knowledge that cannot be fully translated. When languages die, so do stories of resistance and survival . Revitalization efforts improve mental and physical health in Indigenous communities . Recognizing language as a social determinant of health has practical implications for policy and education.
Finally, the flexibility of the human brain means that adults can still learn new languages, albeit with an accent. Research on reopening critical periods suggests that, one day, language learning might become easier for adults . However, even without pharmacological help, immersive exposure and interaction with native speakers can lead to conversational proficiency . Learning additional languages does not diminish one’s original identity; rather, it enriches it.
Conclusion: valuing linguistic diversity
Abdul Hameed’s experience underscores the importance of linguistic inclusion. No child should be labeled an idiot because the language of the school differs from the language of the home. Educational systems should respect and incorporate students’ mother tongues, using them as bridges to national or global languages. Societies should invest in bilingual education, dictionaries, libraries and teacher training to ensure that language becomes a gateway rather than a barrier.
More broadly, we must resist the temptation to treat English—or any dominant language—as the default standard. English is an exceptional language, not because it is superior but because its odd history has left it full of irregularities . There is nothing inherently “normal” about the way English marks tense or constructs negatives. Recognising this fact can help Anglophones appreciate the effort non‑native speakers invest and encourage humility.
Human thought is not bound by words, yet language shapes the architecture of our perceptions. It both reflects and constructs culture. Preserving linguistic diversity safeguards the varied worldviews, knowledge systems and healing traditions that languages embody. Learning new languages opens us to alternative ways of seeing. Ultimately, our world is richer when we honour the multiplicity of tongues that humans have created to make sense of their lives.