Speech delivered to the Auckland Goethe Society, University of Auckland, 12 October 2023
Guten Abend allerseits,
Good evening, everyone.
It is a pleasure to be with you tonight to celebrate the bonds between New Zealand and Germany, and to talk about the joys of learning German.
I am, of course, the perfect choice to give you such a speech.
- As an economist, I will be easy to understand.
- My law degree will prevent me from getting into trouble.
- And being a native German will ensure my speech is sparkling with humour.
Or maybe not.
But seriously, we Germans are known for our sunny outlook on life, our famous joie de vivre, our dolce vita, and the general nonchalance with which we go through life.
But these are only prejudices.
In fact, the Germans are not all that different from other nations around them. You know, the Dutch are just like the Germans except nobody hates them.
That said, there are a few things that stand out about us German speakers. Our language forces us to be good observers.
That is because German crunches words together like no other language.
If you have learned a bit of German, you might have already come across words like Kraftfahrzeughaftpflichtversicherung. That is 36 characters and means ‘Motor vehicle liability insurance’.
Or Sozialversicherungsfachangestelltenauszubildender, which at 49 characters describes an ‘Apprentice for the job of a social insurance clerk’.
But all that is nothing against the famous Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz.
Literally, this ‘Beef labelling supervision duties delegation law’ was an act in the state of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. That is 63 characters for the Act and another 22 for the state.
Ironically, the Act was meant to deal with the dangers of mad cow disease. Instead, it introduced a new case of mad word disease. No wonder it was repealed in 2013.
Now, you might be amused by this German habit of creating words in such ways. Yet there is method in this seeming madness. Though words can be long, they are wonderfully descriptive.
Thus we get beautiful new words like a ‘cool cupboard’ – Kühlschrank – which is of course a refrigerator.
Or a ‘shield toad’ – Schildkröte – which is a turtle.
Or, my absolute favourite, a ‘dust sucker’ – Staubsauger – which in English would be a vacuum cleaner.
German speakers look at the same things that speakers of other languages do, too. But the quirks of their language make them think about them differently.
It is like the saying about the famous couple of dancers, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers: “Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did but she did it backwards, in high heels.”
When you learn a foreign language, that is precisely what you do. You make your brain dance backwards, with or without high heels.
And this is more than a funny metaphor. From modern neuroscience, we know that learning languages does wonders for the brain’s development.
With each new word learnt, with each new quirk of foreign grammar, our brains create new connections between neurons. Our brains develop new superpowers.
That is why bilingual brains are better at juggling tasks and viewing issues from multiple angles. We become better at problem-solving and creativity.
Of course, this is true for any foreign language you learn – whether it’s French, Te Reo or Kiswahili.
But it will be especially true for languages that may be a bit harder to learn.
Learning German will be like building your very own cognitive Autobahn — a high-speed freeway in your brain.
The more robust that road is, the quicker and more efficiently you can solve problems, switch between tasks, and understand perspectives other than your own.
And trust me, if you can wrap your tongue around words like Rindfleischetikettierungsüberwachungsaufgabenübertragungsgesetz, you will find managing a Kiwi business contract a piece of cake!
As we are just days from this year’s election, I should mention yet another reason for learning German.
Thirty years ago, New Zealand introduced a new electoral system to replace the old First-past-the-post method. We know this system as MMP – which stands for Mixed Member Proportional.
But as students of German would know, this is nothing other than Germany’s personalisiertes Verhältniswahlrecht.
Admittedly, the German term sounds like something requiring a PhD to understand. And perhaps it does.
But in any case, equipped with your newly acquired German language skills, you will soon be able not just to understand MMP but to compare how it operates in our two countries.
Spoiler alert: Even though it is the same system, Germany and New Zealand are polls apart.
That pun was intended, by the way.
If you want to find out more, you can read my latest column in Newsroom.
There are many more links between New Zealand and Germany like MMP. And being able to speak German lets you explore them in detail.
And there is one final door that German will open for those who learn it: a different sense of humour.
Of course, the Germans do not have the best reputation for being a particularly funny kind of people.
And yes, if you happen to be Polish, British or Dutch, you will have very good historical reasons not to associate German with anything fun.
But there is another side of German culture, too – and one that does not translate well at all.
German – and the Germans – can be quite funny. And sometimes, that is even intentional.
So the big prize for those who have learnt German is to encounter whole new worlds of fun. Heinz Erhardt, Loriot, and Robert Gernhardt would be a good start.
Because some things just don’t translate, sadly.
And other things still sound better in the original.
So congratulations to you all who have embarked on the journey of learning German. Ahead of you lies a life of discovery. Of thinking differently. Of finding things funny that no one else will.
And possibly even of making sense of MMP.
Thank you.
