From Linguistic Heritage to Language Governance: Translating Classical Arabic Authority into Saudi Arabia’s 2026 National Language Policy

Language is more than just a collection of words people use to talk to one another; it is a living system that governments try to shape, protect, and direct. When a nation decides how its language should be taught, written, or used in business and law, it is engaging in language planning. This is not merely a technical exercise of correcting grammar or choosing new vocabulary. It is a deeply social and political act that determines who gets to speak, in what form, and for what purpose. For decades, scholars have studied how these decisions are made, looking at the rules governments write, the beliefs people hold about their language, and the actual habits speakers follow in their daily lives. The question of how to manage a language becomes especially complex when that language carries the weight of ancient history and religious tradition, yet must also function in a modern world dominated by global technology and international commerce.

In Saudi Arabia, the Arabic language holds a unique position. It is the official language of the kingdom, a fact written into the country's constitution, and it is the language of the Quran, giving it a sacred status for millions of Muslims. However, in recent years, English has become increasingly dominant in universities, corporate boardrooms, and the technology sector. This shift has raised concerns that Arabic might lose its vitality in the very areas where modern life happens. To address this, the Saudi government approved a new National Policy for the Arabic Language in early 2026. This policy aims to ensure that Arabic is not just a symbol of identity but a practical tool used in science, administration, and digital communication. The challenge for the policymakers is to strengthen the language without isolating the country from the global community, and to do so in a way that feels authentic to the nation's deep historical roots.

A team of researchers from Saudi Arabia and Turkey set out to understand how this new policy connects to the past. They asked a specific question: How does a modern government plan for a language that has been studied and revered for over a thousand years? The researchers looked at the new policy document and compared it to the work of famous classical Arabic scholars who lived between the eighth and fourteenth centuries. These scholars, such as Sibawayh and Ibn Khaldun, were not government bureaucrats; they were intellectuals who studied the structure of the language, compiled massive dictionaries, and wrote about how people learn to speak. The researchers wanted to know if the new policy was simply copying these old scholars or if it was doing something different.

The study found that the new policy is not a direct copy of the old scholarly institutions. The government is not trying to rebuild the ancient schools or religious circles where these scholars once worked. Instead, the researchers argue that the policy uses the ideas from those scholars as a source of authority and inspiration. They call this process "translation," where the government takes principles from the past and adapts them for the modern world. The researchers identified three distinct ways this happens. First, there is "ideological genealogy," where the new policy draws on the deep-seated belief that preserving Arabic is a collective duty and a mark of cultural continuity. Second, there is "functional analogy," where the policy tries to solve the same problems the old scholars solved—like creating a standard grammar or expanding the vocabulary—but uses modern tools like digital databases and universities instead of handwritten manuscripts. Finally, the researchers noted that there is very little "institutional continuity," meaning the actual organizations running the policy today are not the same as the ones from the past.

One of the most important findings concerns how the policy handles the different ways Arabic is spoken. For centuries, scholars have noted that Arabic exists in two main forms: a formal, written version used in official documents and a variety of spoken dialects used in daily life. The new policy recognizes this reality. Rather than trying to force everyone to speak only the formal version in every situation, the policy suggests a more flexible approach. It aims to make the formal language strong enough for science and law, while acknowledging that people will naturally mix languages and dialects in their daily lives. The researchers suggest that the policy's success will not depend on how strictly it enforces rules, but on whether it builds the right infrastructure. This includes creating new technical terms for modern inventions, training teachers, and ensuring that Arabic is useful in high-level jobs.

The study also highlights a crucial distinction between what the researchers call "symbolic" and "instrumental" empowerment. Symbolic empowerment is about the feelings and identity associated with a language; in Saudi Arabia, Arabic already has immense symbolic power as a marker of national and religious identity. Instrumental empowerment, however, is about the practical ability to use the language effectively in specific tasks, like writing a research paper or negotiating a business contract. The researchers suggest that the new policy is a significant step because it moves beyond just celebrating the language's status. It attempts to build the practical tools needed for Arabic to function in the modern world. This means creating digital libraries, developing translation software, and ensuring that scientific research can be published in Arabic.

The researchers caution that the policy faces significant hurdles. The global dominance of English in science and technology means that simply passing a law is not enough. The policy must create an environment where using Arabic is actually easier and more beneficial than using English. This requires more than just rules; it requires a shift in how education and business operate. The study suggests that the policy does not need to treat English as an enemy. Instead, it can work alongside English, allowing Arabic to handle national and cultural matters while English facilitates international connections. The goal is to create a system where both languages have a place, but where Arabic is strong enough to carry the weight of the nation's future.

Ultimately, the paper concludes that the 2026 policy is a sophisticated attempt to bridge the gap between a glorious linguistic past and a complex global present. It does not try to turn back the clock to the time of the ancient scholars. Instead, it takes their deep respect for the language and their methods of organizing knowledge and translates them into the language of modern governance. The researchers believe that the long-term success of this policy will depend less on how many laws are written and more on whether the country can build the schools, libraries, and digital systems that allow Arabic to thrive in the real world. By understanding the past not as a rigid blueprint but as a source of adaptable principles, Saudi Arabia is attempting to ensure that its language remains a living, breathing part of its future.