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fluff, with no consequence. Changes nothing, says little.
In some countries, however, language legislation is crucial. And it goes a few different ways--mandating language planning and use to preserve minority languages (seldom imported minority languages), mandating a specific language be taught and be the language of public discourse (which is different from discourse in public), or stipulating a range of languages for different uses.
When Latvia and Lithuania got their independence, they found that they had many Russian speakers; Russian had been co-official with the indigenous languages, but had much more utility. They also had a lot of in-migration of Russians. So to get the government set up using the indigenous languages they stipulated that Latvian and Lithuanian be taught, that it be used, that packaging and official documents be in it, and that it be known as a requirement for working for the civil service. Suddenly all the monolingual Russians were up in arms: their privilege was taken away. Kazakhstan and other countries have done similar kinds of legislating.
Czech was going to be extinct, but language legislation pulled it back from the brink. "Linguistic nationalism" isn't always a bad thing. Considering Montenegran, however, it sometimes is.
Pakistan has had repeated problems with language. Officially, Urdu is the national language, with English, and they're to take steps to replace English with Urdu. But you'd think the main reason they don't is that English is just too useful: international commerce and communication, text books, and the sort, right? Nah: If Urdu, the language of one part of the country, becomes the main language, then everybody from other parts of the country will have to be bilingual with Urdu. Why should native Urdu speakers learn Punjabi, Sindhi, Pashto, and Baluchi (not to mention Brahui), when they already would know the national language--instead they can learn English and have an advantage in school and international affairs when the Sindi speakers are learning Urdu. As it is, the 'minority' language speakers learn English, and that's pretty much enough currently. This sort of wrangling has kept English in India and many other countries, French in some countries, etc.
Then there's Canada, stipulating that civil servants must know French, even in British Columbia. Or Spain, producing dictionaries for Aragones and Leones, Galician, and other 'languages' for the purpose of making sure they can translate their laws into all the languages spoken--even if nearly every Galician and Leones speaker is fluent in Spanish, and the 'languages' are pretty much mutually comprehensible. But 'splitters' have the day in language classification, not the 'lumpers'.
In all these cases, this isn't nearly as severe as what Turkey did with Kurdish: its use in schools not as a language of instruction but for communication between kids was banned. A great breakthrough was allowing an hour or so per week in Kurdish, in Kurdish-majority areas.
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