The Elephant in the Room of Dutch-German Communication
Once every other month, you’ll stumble upon some newspaper article stressing the importance of German education in the Netherlands. As Germany is the Netherlands’ biggest and closest potential buyer, the need for streamlined German communication would be essential. Sounds plausible, right?
But wait, aren’t we forgetting something? There are more than one language, as well as speaking conventions within the Dutch-German verbal constellation. Besides the obvious Dutch switching to German, Germans could switch to Dutch as well. Both parties could switch to English, or just stick to their own (a speech mode known as Receptive Multilingualism (RM), quite common in for example the Nordic countries).
And what about the Low Saxon elephant in the room?
Trade
Grossly — and more often than not deliberately — ignored, the Low Saxon speech area can enclose the Dutch territories a whopping three times. It is home to interesting trading cities such as Bremen, Brunswyk, Kyl, Hamburg, Hannover, Rostock, and Münster. Not to mention the Dutch region of Twente, with its steady growth in high-tech and servicing companies.
Diluted image
The language goes by many names: Low Saxon, Low German, Plattdüütsch, Nedersaksisch… and literally dozens of regional and local names. Which doesn’t really help its diluted image. Although mostly a matter of minor differences in pronunciation, many speakers believe their local variety is a completely different language altogether, compared to dialects of as little as four kilometres away. Strangely enough, it never seems to occur to them that they still understand each other quite perfectly.
Valuable addition
With conservative estimates counting up to 5.5 million proficient daily speakers in both the Netherlands and Germany (not including the non-daily speakers), this language could help lower the barriers of formality, convey meanings otherwise left unexplained, and form a common, neutral ground for both sides to meet upon. Most subjects of my own Master thesis on this focus area in intercultural communication thought it would be a valuable addition.
If only its speakers dared to use it.
Reprimand
Conspicuously absent (or banned) from all Dutch classrooms, media, and — quite frankly — pretty much all institutional and public communications, its speakers have become silent and subdued, and are not very appreciative of their language in general. At least not openly, for fear of reprimand. Because there are numerous accounts of exactly that happening within classrooms between the 1950s and 1990s. You can ask anyone currently over 40 living in the area.
Stories abound of children who either were afraid to go to school because they could not understand the teacher, were simply ignored or scolded if they asked a question in Low Saxon, mocked for mispronouncing words, or simply dubbed unintelligent and even subjected to speech therapy, simply because the Dutch-minded government refused to accept that there are four different languages within the Netherlands.
As a result, many of those children — now parents and grandparents themselves — have stopped passing on the language to their children because of all those negative associations. Meanwhile, their broken Dutch leaves current generations with a strong accent, and no proper command in either language, and the same old prejudices heaped up against them. Why couldn’t these children receive education in their own language instead? 1 + 1 is 2 in any language.
Cultural tolerance?
Four decades of obvious language indoctrination within a country which is so very self-satisfied with its cultural tolerance is hard to fathom. Yet variety in indigenous cultures (for want of a better term) is still openly discouraged, stereotyped in the media, or outright denied, despite obvious differences in grammar, history, idioms, and of course pronunciation. The latter of which recently kicked up a row, once again.
ABN
It is telling that the abbreviation of Algemeen Beschaafd Nederlands (with its appallingly condescending meaning of Common, Civilised Dutch) is still firmly embedded in the public mind, while Dutch linguists replaced the term by Standaard Nederlands (Standard Dutch) as early as the 1980s. Needless to say, speakers rather avoid Low Saxon. And that is a crying shame.
Crude Banter
Its interesting history as a trade lingua franca and its major impact on Scandinavian languages notwithstanding, the mere fact that it has not been used within any official circumstance whatsoever for the last few centuries implicitly tells Saxon-speaking school children (of all ages) the language is simply useless for anything but crude banter. Any proposal to restore it to its former glory will be met with a scornful snicker, or even sharp criticism. Perhaps surprisingly, mostly from the speakers themselves. The idea of Saxon being a useful language for intercultural communication is simply beyond them. Small wonder, they’ve always been deliberately taught the opposite.
Preservation or stimulation
In comes the endless cohort of culture preservation initiatives involving songs, literature, poetry, and days of yore reenactment, preferably in traditional garments. Perfectly fit for a nice evening out featuring at least one joke with a set of dentures, or some nostalgic reminiscing, but pretty much useless otherwise. Not to mention the endless regurgitation of — and reducing the language to — clichés such as brommers kyken, rupen in den moos, sou is dat, and the ever-present moin. Yes, these initiatives are one vital part of keeping the language in our memories, but it shouldn’t be reserved to that field exclusively. The only way to keep any language alive, is speaking it daily and keeping it relevant, in all aspects of life.
“If you’re so bent on reinstating it as a useful language, then why are you writing this in English?” Because if I would pen down my thoughts in Low Saxon, the very people I want to reach out to would not even bother to read it. Besides, this is a situation which speakers of minority languages all over the world face on a daily basis, and this might give them fresh insights. Moreover, putting things into other words (a different language) allows us to have a somewhat more detached discussion, without the usual emotional statements, either against or in favour. Though having an opinion on a language that could and should just be, like any other language, only lays bare the deep-rooted shame. Why not just accept it?
Switching to Dutch
Although it is still one of the every-day languages in construction, agriculture, and logistics in the Netherlands, people still deem it inherently lower in value. They will switch to Dutch whenever the situation starts to breathe a more ‘official’ atmosphere. Parents do everything in their might to keep it from their children, hoping to secure a better future for them. As if teaching them another language with an inevitable Saxon accent will make it any better in a society that still openly discriminates against that. And as if being successful depends on the language you speak, instead of your working attitude, or your drive to succeed.
Flawed Research
Because the language bears such a heavy stigma, and in 2020 is still painfully absent from the Dutch school curriculum, people rely on all kinds of wild misconceptions about it. More importantly, most research into Low Saxon seems flawed; researchers never use the language itself in their surveys, facilitating Howard Giles’s Accommodation Theory. Giles and his fellow researchers claimed that in intercultural situations, speakers would adapt their linguistic behaviour — and their opinions! — to what they thought the researchers would want to hear. Because of the severe stigma, and the Dutch-only policy deeply entrenched in Dutch society breathing down their necks, speakers will likely give what they consider socially acceptable answers. Which means they will always downplay their own language to look more favourable.
Linguistic Giant
It can be challenging to lift the language over these enormous thresholds. But if we apply a sobre definition, and ignore the many prejudices and misconceptions, Low Saxon is just another means of communication. For three hundred years during the latter Middle Ages, it functioned as the international language of trade (and was therefore highly prestigious). It had profound linguistic effects throughout all corners of mainland northern and western Europe. For learning pretty much all of north-western Europe’s Germanic languages, it can still serve as a vehicle. It shares its Ingvaeonic origins with English and Frisian, bears close resemblance to both the German and Dutch dachsprachen, and up until today, an estimated 30 to 75 percent of daily used Norwegian, Swedish, and Danish vocabulary has Saxon origins. It could really be regarded as the glue between all of these.
Speech modes
It could be argued that Dutch switching to German — and vice versa — would be disadvantageous to both, as speakers may be less proficient in the other language. Same could be said for Receptive Multilingualism between Dutch and German, as you’re never sure the other party fully grasps what you intended to say. While a mumbled “yes” or “uhuh” may seem to express understanding, it could just as well be voiced to avoid losing face for not understanding.
The concept of receptive multilingualism, however, comes free with the Low Saxon package, as speakers naturally rely on it from dialect to dialect in the absence of a standard language. What could be better for Dutch-German communication than a language and speaking mode both parties have been learning at home from birth?
Intelligibility
You could throw in the intelligibility argument; the vastness of the speech area, the absence of a standard variety, and the decades of neglecting the shared language may have made it hard for speakers of different dialects to understand each other. But research by Gooskens and Kürschner suggests this is not as bad as you’d expect. Moreover, it isn’t something proper education couldn’t fix.
If only we tried.
Forging trade bonds
So shrug of your shame, and ignore the many misconceptions shrouding your vision. Let’s grow up, and use the language for that what it is most suitable for: exchanging ideas, and forging new cross-border trading bonds. A 19th-century scholar infamously predicted the language would be extinct in 20 years. More than a full century has passed since, and it is still there.
Isn’t it about time we started exploiting its potential to the fullest?
