What language do they speak in Denmark?
Perhaps you think, dear readers, that this is a stupid question. Even to a person with only half a brain, the answer has to be clear. A few months ago, I thought the same.
WARNING: It is possible that this article will seriously upset you. Before you read on, sit down, take a deep breath, and prepare yourself for a mentally disturbing experience…
The shocking events which I am going to recount started one dark, dreary day in an Oxford poison factory. I was working in this unpleasant and slightly frightening location for three weeks. I have the unfortunate fate of being an accountant, a profession which often causes me to travel to the most picturesque industrial regions of Britain.
So, for three weeks two colleagues and I sat in a windowless room and reviewed the factory accounts. My boss was a nice woman, 27 years old and educated to university standard. The third member of our team was an 18 year girl, very hard working and intelligent. Our client had just bought a new subsidiary in Denmark, and thus part of our work was to audit the Danish numbers.
The client gave my young colleague an enormous database relating to the goods produced in the Danish factory. She started reading it, but soon stopped and with a perplexed expression said to me, “I can’t understand this because it isn’t written in English! What language do they speak in Denmark? Is it Dutch?”
Before I could open my mouth, my boss replied. “Which language do they speak in Denmark? Yes, definitely Dutch!”
I was a little bit shocked by that. I’m quite interested in languages and that sort of misunderstanding annoys me a lot. So, I explained that no, in Denmark they usually speak Danish and Dutch is the language spoken in the Netherlands.
“You’re wrong,” came the immediate response from my boss.
“Can I see the document?” I asked politely. “I can understand a bit of Dutch because it’s quite similar to German”.
Looking at the database I was soon completely sure that it was written in Danish and I repeated that several times. I assumed that I would succeed in convincing my colleagues that I was right. Not so. We disputed it for thirty minutes and in the end I didn’t win.
***
Returning to my hotel that evening, I was still thinking over the business in my head. I wondered whether my colleagues were especially badly informed or whether this lack of knowledge was standard throughout the entire British population. Talking to my ex-boyfriend on the phone, I therefore decided to ask him which language they speak in Denmark. I knew that neither geography or languages were his specialities, but nevertheless he’s an apparently intelligent guy who studied maths at uni and now works at one of the biggest firms of professional advisors in the world. He should know the difference between Dutch and Danish. Shouldn’t he?!
After I asked him, however, there was a pause. A few minutes passed before he responded hesitantly, “In Denmark? Dutch, I think”. To say that I was disappointed would be an understatement. But through my desperation the strange thought came to me that, if the British don’t believe that the Dutch speak Dutch, they must speak some other language. But which?!
The answer according to my ex-boyfriend? “Hollandaise”!
“Hollandaise?” I repeated in confusion. “Isn’t that a type of sauce?”
***
Fast losing the will to live, I nevertheless forced myself to uncover the extent of the problem. The following day, talking to a good friend of mind, I decided to check his knowledge of world languages too.
“Matt,” I said hesitantly, “in your opinion, what language do they speak in Denmark?”
Matt considered the matter carefully.
“Norwegian”, he eventually responded.
“Norwegian”, I repeated horrified. “Are you sure they don’t speak Danish, or even Dutch?”
“Yeah, it’s definitely Norwegian,” Matt smiled confidently.
I experienced an unusual urge to hit my head against a brick wall. “But… but what language do the Norwegians speak if it isn’t Norwegian?” I was very interested in the answer, but also rather frightened.
A minute passed. “Viking”.
“Viking?” That was a big surprise and I honestly nearly lost the power of speech. “Matt, that isn’t a real language”, I finally explained weakly.
“Yes it is!” disputed Matt. “I learnt about it in primary school”.
At that point I decided that life was no longer worth living and went to bed, crying.
***
Even four months later, I’m still amazed when I remember the ignorance of my colleagues. They are all intelligent, well educated, professional people, who in fact have travelled to more countries that I myself. Why then do they not know something as fundamental as the main language of another European country? One could say that in English the words for Dutch and Danish both begin with the letter d. Similarly, another frequent error is to be confused between Switzerland and Sweden because the two names both start with Sw. However, is that a good enough excuse?
I don’t think so. That kind of lack of knowledge about neighbouring countries can not be excused by anything. But whose fault is it? If the problem is as widespread as my little experiment suggests is possible, can we blame the state education system? Perhaps to some extent. But is it not the private responsibility of every person to ensure that he is sufficiently well informed about the world in which he lives? It seems as if some Britons regrettably couldn’t care less which languages are spoken in the rest of Europe.
That became evident during a chat with my ex-boyfriend, who ultimately asked me, “Why does it matter anyway what language is spoken where? I’m sure that in both Denmark and Holland, the populations speak English fluently”.
I really had to bite my tongue not to tell him that in fact it’s very important, because I could never marry a man who didn’t know the language spoken in Denmark.
I regret to inform you that everything which is written in this article is based on real people and events. No exaggeration was necessary. The author does not accept liability for any suffering which you experienced whilst reading the above words.
