Two German-American Language Myths
In the United States there are two persistent myths, or urban legends, pertaining to the
German language. The first of these holds that German almost became the official
language of the United States, losing out to English by a single vote in Congress at some
point early in this nation’s history. The second legend is of more recent vintage and
alleges that President John F. Kennedy proudly declared himself to be a jelly doughnut
before thousands of Berliners in June 1963. The first myth has been debunked for some
time, notably by Karl J. R. Arndt in an article from 1976, and by Dennis Baron in his
1990 book on language policy in the United States. The “Ich-bin-ein-Berliner”-myth was
dispelled by Jürgen Eichhoff, founding director of the Max Kade Institute, in a 1993
article.
Regarding the first legend, which is also widespread in Germany, it is important to note
that the United States has never had an official national language, though there have been
calls to designate one through legislation or a constitutional amendment going back to the
eighteenth century. The real events underlying the German-but-by-a-single-vote story
date to 1794. In that year the U. S. House of Representatives received a petition from a
group of German-speakers in Virginia requesting that federal laws be published in
German as well as English. Although a House committee endorsed this petition, when it
came to a discussion on the floor of the House in early 1795, support was apparently
weak. On January 13 of that year, after some debate, a vote was called to adjourn and
defer further consideration of the committee’s recommendation. That vote was forty-two
to forty-one against adjournment. Although the vote was not on the merits of the question
itself, it apparently reflected only tepid support for translating the laws into German.
Some time later, the petition was formally rejected, though exactly what the final tally
was is not known.
As Karl Arndt discusses, blame for the “defeat” of the proposal to print federal laws in
German translations—not to declare German over English the official language of the
United States—was directed at the Speaker of the House, a prominent (and very
anglified) German American from Pennsylvania, Frederick A. C. Muhlenberg. Over time,
the story emerged that Muhlenberg, in a betrayal of the language of his ancestors, cast the
deciding vote against German, and the “Muhlenberg legend” was born.
What is interesting about this myth, as Dennis Baron points out, is that it has been cited
over the years by people with very different agendas. For example, it was promoted
during the nineteenth century as a way of drawing more attention to the contributions of
German-speaking immigrants (and their descendants) in American history. Especially in
the latter half of the nineteenth century, when German language and culture were at their
zenith worldwide, many ethnic Germans in this country felt marginalized in history
books written from a decidedly “Anglo” perspective. More recently, supporters of
“English-only” initiatives mention the story as an early blow struck against the divisive
“tribalism” presumed to stem from promoting the use of languages other than English.
One basic fact about multilingualism in United States history, however, that is regularly
overlooked by advocates of declaring English our official language, and one that might
well have been recognized by the members of the 1795 Congress, is that literacy in a
language other than English is a rarity among Americans born in this country.
Despite the resilience of immigrant languages in the media, religion, and education,
literacy among U. S.-born citizens has long been dominated by English. This means that
bilingual or translated publications, especially today, are read mainly by first-generation
immigrants. Going back to early America, although scores of newspapers and other
media were printed in German, even into the twentieth century (see the German
translation of the Declaration of Independence), the readership for these publications
came to be dominated by fresh arrivals from German-speaking Europe. At the time of the
American Revolution, German immigration to North America dropped precipitously and
did not rebound until the 1830s and 1840s. It could well be that the Representatives
considering the Virginia petition in 1795 were not convinced that federal funds would be
wisely spent on translation for a (then) shrinking German-literate population.
The second urban legend lacks the political gravitas of the story just told, but is
nonetheless interesting for its persistence, especially for didactic purposes in German
language classes. One of the many differences between the grammars of German and
English pertains to the use of articles, especially indefinite articles (a[n], ein) that come
right before words denoting professions and geographic origins. While in English one
would say I am a student and I am an American, the German equivalents are Ich bin
Student and Ich bin Amerikaner, without the ein. It is common among learners of German
to say Ich bin ein Student (Amerikaner).
Now turn the clock back, not to 1795, but to June 26, 1963, and President Kennedy’s
legendary visit to Berlin at the height of the Cold War. One of the president’s most
famous lines of all time was the one he uttered twice, at the beginning and end of his
stirring speech, to express solidarity with the citizens of the divided city, namely Ich bin
ein Berliner. Ever since, German teachers in this country have quoted this line as an
example of what their students should NOT do. Pointing out that one of the regional
words in German for “jelly-filled doughnut” is Berliner, people have assumed that
President Kennedy outed himself as a pastry to hundreds of thousands of amused
Germans.
In his 1993 article, Jürgen Eichhoff explains that Kennedy’s words (provided to him by a
near-native speaker of German, Robert H. Lochner, by the way) were in fact
grammatically correct. A rarely mentioned corollary of the rule about ein in front of
professional terms and nationalities in German prescribes that if the subject of the
sentence only has certain characteristics of the profession or nationality referred to, but is
not really a student, American, Berliner, etc., then the ein is required. For example,
Ronald McDonald would say in German Ich bin Clown. On the other hand, if someone is
just acting silly, that person would have to say Ich bin ein Clown.
Thus President Kennedy did not misspeak, which explains why the myth developed only
outside of Germany (see the serious images from German media on this page where
JFK’s words were reprinted). But even if Kennedy had misspoken, Professor Eichhoff
adds, native speakers of German would have understood precisely what he meant. And in
somewhat of an ironic twist, the dialect word Berliner, referring to a pastry, is not even
used in the city of Berlin, but farther west. Interestingly, it was introduced by nineteenthcentury immigrants into the English of the Upper Midwest, as the Dictionary of American
Regional English demonstrates.
Sources: “German as the Official Language of the United States of America?” by Karl J.
R. Arndt, Monatshefte 68: 129–150; The English-Only Question: An Official Language
for Americans? by Dennis Baron, Yale University Press, 1990; “‘Ich bin ein Berliner’: A
History and a Linguistic Clarification” by Jürgen Eichhoff, Monatshefte 85: 71–80
(1993).
F. A. Muhlenberg (1750–1801)
German translation of Declaration of Independence
John F. Kennedy, West Berlin, June 26, 1963
German-language American newspaper report on JFK’s 1963 visit
JFK with West Berlin Mayor Willy Brandt and Chancellor Konrad Adenauer