The Language Crisis in Tunisia: When Children Speak Everything But Arabic
A Deep Dive into North Africa’s Multilingual Dilemma
This article is inspired by Tarel Cheniti’s thought-provoking video “المسألة اللغوية في تونس: هيّا نفرّكوا الرمّانة؟” (The Language Question in Tunisia: Shall We Break Open the Pomegranate?)
Growing up in Tunisia, I always knew that mastering multiple languages wasn’t a luxury — it was a necessity. French dominated administrative offices and business dealings, while later, as I became immersed in technology, English emerged as the gateway to innovation and knowledge. Today, it’s commonplace to encounter North Africans from Tunisia, Morocco, and Algeria who speak three languages fluently. This linguistic agility isn’t merely an academic exercise; it’s become a survival mechanism in our globalized world.
But something troubling is happening in our homes. My own daughter speaks English fluently, absorbing it naturally through Baby TV and YouTube. While this might seem like progress, it’s accompanied by a disturbing rejection of Arabic and French. In her young mind, English has become the sole vehicle for knowledge and entertainment, the only language worth knowing.
The Stark Reality: Numbers Don’t Lie
The statistics paint a revealing picture of North Africa’s linguistic landscape. According to the 2024 census, 99.2% or almost the entire literate population of Morocco could read and write in Arabic, whereas only 1.5% of the population could read and write in Berber. When it comes to foreign languages, this figure rises to 57.7% in French, 20.5% in English, and 1.2% in Spanish. Meanwhile, in Tunisia, the number of French speakers is estimated at 6.36 million people, or 63.6% of the population, almost all as a second language.
These numbers reveal a complex multilingual reality, but they don’t capture the emotional and cultural dimensions of language preference among the younger generation.
Language as More Than Communication: The Economic and Political Dimensions
As Tarel Cheniti powerfully argues in his video, language is never merely a tool for communication, especially in developing nations. Language is economics — it determines who you do business with, who you sell to, and from whom you buy. Language is politics — it defines your sphere of sovereignty and submission. Language is culture — it establishes your civilizational reference point, both individually and collectively.
The renowned Arab linguist Dr. Mahmoud Fahmi Hijazi once observed, “A culture is the bulwark of a nation, and a language is the identity of that nation.” This sentiment echoes through the centuries, reminding us that linguistic choices carry profound implications beyond mere communication.
The Generation of Fear: Understanding the Root Causes
The children we see today — those who instinctively reach for foreign languages — are the offspring of a particular generation: those born in the 1970s and 1980s. Unlike their parents, the “boomers” who lived through decolonization and nation-building, this generation grew up with a pervasive fear of the future.
1. The Closing of Western Doors
This fear stems from a harsh geopolitical reality that emerged in the 1990s. The collapse of communist Europe and the expansion of the European Union provided the West with a new demographic reservoir — Eastern European migrants who were culturally similar, sharing Christian heritage and physical appearance. This shift led to a clear preference for these migrants over those from the Global South, who were perceived as fundamentally different. Only the technically skilled from developing nations found welcome in Western countries.
This reality transformed “protecting the home” into an obsession for the 1970s-80s generation. The constant anxiety manifests in conversations across North African households: “Did you send your child abroad? Do you have the right papers? Are they prepared for emigration?”
These parents view their children not as future citizens of their homeland, but as potential emigrants-in-waiting. They prepare them for eventual migration, teaching them French from a pragmatic standpoint — not necessarily from an inferiority complex (though that exists too), but from a survival instinct.
The Personal Value of Arabic: A Testament from the Field
This pragmatic dismissal of Arabic is deeply misguided. I can attest personally to Arabic’s professional value through countless examples. In 2022, I participated in a peacebuilding mission in South Sudan with the Dinka ethnic group — non-Arabs who were initially unresponsive to my international colleagues who spoke only English. The moment I switched to Classical Arabic, everything changed. Many had lived in Khartoum and understood formal Arabic. Speaking their language opened doors that remained closed to my English-only colleagues, allowing us to engage meaningfully with the community in ways that would have been impossible through French or English alone.
As the classical Arabic saying goes, “Through time, Arabic has been the language of scholars, historians, and explorers.” This historical legacy continues to provide practical value in today’s interconnected world.
The Collapse of Educational Systems: Creating Linguistic Segregation
A critical factor exacerbating this linguistic crisis is the systematic breakdown of educational systems across Arab nations. Unable to bear the cost of quality public education, states like Tunisia have essentially privatized education in a chaotic manner, creating a system where social class determines educational quality and linguistic orientation.
The Educational Hierarchy
* Elite Private Schools and French Missions: Reserved for the wealthy, these institutions use French as the primary language of instruction
* American Schools: For the ultra-wealthy, emphasizing English
* Pilot Public Schools: The last bastion of quality public education, still affordable but highly competitive
* Regular Public Schools: Where the majority end up, often providing substandard education in Arabic
This creates a society divided between those who attend quality schools (typically French-speaking) and those relegated to inferior public institutions who speak what can only be described as “social media language” — a degraded form of communication that serves neither cultural preservation nor professional advancement.
The Digital Native Challenge
The third factor shaping our children’s linguistic preferences is their upbringing in the internet age. Unlike previous generations who grew up with historical TV series, classic films like “The Message,” or Egyptian dramas that reinforced Arabic cultural narratives, today’s children consume short-form video content on social media platforms.
Extended Arabic discourse doesn’t captivate young minds accustomed to brief, engaging videos typically produced in foreign languages. The algorithm-driven nature of social media further reinforces this preference, creating echo chambers where foreign language content dominates.
A Two-Pronged Solution: Short-term and Long-term Strategies
Long-term Vision (10–15 years)
I believe this generation will eventually emigrate but will experience a profound culture shock similar to what my generation faced after 9/11, when a wave of religious revival emerged as a reaction to widespread Islamophobia. Today’s youth, raised on Western cultural references, expect to be welcomed by the very societies that promoted these cultural models. When reality contradicts expectation, when they find themselves rejected despite their linguistic and cultural adaptations, many will return to Tunisia.
We must prepare our society and public administration to accommodate these returnees without stigmatization. They should be able to use the languages they’ve mastered — whether dialectical Arabic, French, or English — without shame or discrimination. This generation will return with valuable skills and international experience that could benefit the country significantly.
Short-term Action (Immediate)
For the children and adolescents still growing up among us, we must liberate Classical Arabic and dialectical Tunisian from their current confined contexts — news broadcasts, political speeches, administrative discourse, and textbooks — none of which appeal to young people.
The solution requires making Arabic content available on social media platforms and AI applications where young people actually spend their time. This responsibility cannot fall to bureaucratic government institutions; it must come from social media influencers who have the reach and relevance to connect with young audiences.
These influencers must commit to producing content in both Classical Arabic and Tunisian dialect, creating an alternative digital ecosystem that competes with foreign language content on the platforms where our children’s minds are being shaped.
The Wisdom of Multilingualism: A Balanced Perspective
The great 20th-century Arab intellectual Taha Hussein understood that linguistic identity need not be monolithic. We should celebrate our multilingual capabilities while ensuring that Arabic — the language that connects us to our history, culture, and regional community — maintains its central place in our children’s linguistic repertoire.
As another classical Arabic wisdom states, “Arabic anchors us to a past that informs and enriches our present.” This anchoring doesn’t diminish the value of other languages; instead, it provides the cultural foundation from which multilingual competence can flourish.
Conclusion: Reclaiming Our Linguistic Heritage
The language question in Tunisia — and across North Africa — is indeed like breaking open a pomegranate: complex, messy, but ultimately revealing something precious inside. We must resist the false choice between Arabic and global languages. Instead, we should cultivate a multilingual identity rooted in Arabic culture while embracing the practical necessities of French and English.
Our children deserve better than linguistic rootlessness. They deserve to inherit the full richness of their multilingual heritage while being equipped for global citizenship. This requires coordinated action from educators, content creators, policymakers, and parents who understand that language choices made today will shape the cultural landscape of tomorrow.
The path forward isn’t about choosing sides in a linguistic battle — it’s about ensuring that Arabic reclaims its rightful place alongside other languages in our children’s hearts and minds, not as a relic of the past, but as a living bridge to their cultural identity and regional community.
The conversation about language and identity continues. What matters most is that we’re finally having it openly, honestly, and with the urgency it deserves.
