To the point: Aunt Guri adé

It is no coincidence that we speak of mother tongue: language is very close to us, very emotional, centrally linked to our feelings, thoughts and actions, and shaped by them. Children who grow up speaking not only their mother tongue but also their father tongue - in other words, bilingually - are particularly fortunate. Because they are at home in two language worlds, can express themselves in two ways, and thus perhaps understand a little more of the world and of people.

But those who grow up bilingual also differentiate very precisely when they use which language: To express feelings and thoughts, anger and sadness, they usually use the language that is spoken most frequently in their environment. He speaks the "other" mother tongue when he has to deal with speakers of this language, when it is a matter of fact - or simply when he lacks the words in the first language. Mothers and fathers are advised to speak only their own mother tongue with their children. Even if you have a very good command of a foreign language, it remains a foreign language, not quite true to life, grafted on. In this way, facets and subtleties of the spoken language that are central to the child's (language) development are lost. Mother, father and child do not notice this. Nevertheless, it is a loss.

However, it is not only many parents who succumb to the urge of the polyglot, but time and again also advertisers and marketing experts. I am in favor of linguistic diversity. Anglicisms and colorings by other languages testify to the liveliness and adaptability of our language, to open perception and open thinking. But caution is required when it comes to advertising messages and slogans, especially when they are used by internationally active companies. Because they have to expect that someone outside will understand them - or rather, try to understand them. And that a well-intentioned message could then turn into a stupid shot in the arm.

When our four-year-old, returning home from a birthday party, sings "Aunt Guri adé" (Tanti auguri a te - many congratulations to you), it is both golden and creative. For not only has he tried to capture the sound of foreign words in his own language, he has also given us a new member of the family. Aunt Guri is with us everywhere from now on. Even if she always has to go away.

But if an internationally active Swiss industrial company wants to polish up its image internally and externally and let a new spirit blow, it should be more careful with language than our big player. The defense company proudly announced that it wanted to strengthen the brand and move shoulder to shoulder into the future: "Together ahead" is the claim for the project. For at least some of the British employees, this attempt to join forces became a laughing stock. They read "To get her a head" and were once again confirmed in their opinion that their employer was acting completely headless.

"It is our employees who give us a face. Their behavior determines success or failure," the Group emphasizes in its guidelines. Perhaps it would have made sense to give these very employees a voice in advance, to check their reaction to the new claim, or even: to involve them in the creation. We remember: language can convey real emotions or seem grafted on. And it's immediately noticeable. Lesson learned: branding can also lead to serious burn.

Clothing manufacturers make their business on the idea of being able to buy beauty and good looks. I fell for it once again. A few days ago, I found myself in a dressing room, together with pretty clothes that I had already bought inside, even before trying them on. Blissfully I carried my loot to the checkout, blissfully I paid, blissfully I took possession of the paper bag with my purchase. In my mind's eye, I was already planning which outfit would be used on which occasion. Then in the streetcar the shock: I had placed the bag on my knees, tightly clutched with my hands. And on the bag it said: "#ImPerfect". Waaaaaaas?! I spend a lot of money on clothes, I'm happy about it too, and then it says "defective, defective, imperfect"??? What a frustrating message! Once home, I immediately put all the pieces on again - and found they didn't fit as well as they did in the fitting room. What a stupid store!

Of course I understood that "I'm perfect" was meant, the exact opposite of what I had spontaneously understood. And that you can't write this sentence correctly in social media. Nevertheless, for me the damage to the image of this negatively ambiguous claim is greater than the disaster at VW. Double meaning only makes sense when it makes double sense. Auntie Guri sends her regards.

Anne-Friederike Heinrich, Editor in Chief
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