Segregation in Language Education: The Case of South Tyrol, Italy 3031327462, 9783031327469

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Segregation in Language Education The Case of South Tyrol, Italy Ann Wand

Segregation in Language Education “This is one of a handful of books which offered me the language and framework to understand the intricacies associated with a segregated school-­system. The author’s structured storytelling style makes it easy to delve deeper into the “separate but equal” schooling policies in South Tyrol where language is used to reinforce identity. It speaks to the larger audience even outside of South Tyrol. Clear, crisp, and profound, this book is a valuable contribution to the discourse on educational equity and deserves attention from policymakers and educators who challenge the status quo.” —Sonia Gulzeb Abbasi, Lecturer of Pakistan Studies and International Relations, COMSATS University, Islamabad “Intricately researched and illuminated with compelling stories from her multifaceted ethnography, Ann Wand’s book lives up to the promise set out in the introduction to find new ways for the reader to experience “disrupting moments, inequalities, and social transformations” of German- and Italian-­speaking relations through the lens of South Tyrolian education. It’s a rich resource for anyone interested in historical and political factors which shape (and create barriers to) second language acquisition generally and the staggering multigenerational implications on language teaching and learning in this particular corner of the world. For this reader, family connections to the region made it especially compelling, but the book has much to offer any reader in illuminating the complex social arrangements that surround languages: The lives these take up in communities, and how they shape cultures, in turn.” —Dr Anna Marie Trester, Department of Linguistics, Boise State University, USA “Ann Wand’s study brings out the nuances of this situation with great care and skill. She is very open in describing how she positioned herself in this research as an outsider to both communities, yet one whose background in Virginia, USA, taught her vivid lessons about segregation, there racial rather than linguistic, but also extending to schooling and its unequal provision. Her study will definitely be of interest to specialists in multilingual policy and practice, as well as those concerned with more general questions of identity formation and maintenance through language.” —Dr Robert Parkin, Emeritus Fellow, School of Anthropology and Museum Ethnography, University of Oxford, UK

“This book makes a vital contribution to our understanding of the long-term consequences of using education to mitigate conflict. It examines the effects of the segregated education system in South Tyrol, and the ways it reflects and deepens existing tensions between local German-, Italian-, and Ladin-speaking communities. Dr Wand shows how monolingual education - originally brought in as part of a post-WWII peace model - is increasingly challenged by contradictory calls for bi-lingual and tri-lingualism and increasing anxiety about the preservation and transmission of language in minority communities. A tour de force in European anthropology, this book is essential reading for anyone seeking to understand the role of education in post-conflict society.” —Dr Nicolette Makovicky, Programme Director and Departmental Lecturer at Russian and East European Studies, University of Oxford, UK “Dr Wand’s fresh perspective and thought-provoking prose shed light on the need for a re-evaluation of priorities and a more inclusive approach to multilingual education in South Tyrol. By encouraging a dialogue and deeper understanding of the challenges and opportunities associated with multilingual education, she has gone against the grain to show how multilingual schooling can promote a sense of cultural identity among diverse language groups. She does this while also challenging ingrained biases by encouraging a forwardthinking approach to education to foster integration and unity in the region. In this way, this book offers both a catalyst for change and a valuable resource for scholars, policymakers, and those people interested in the intersection of language, education, and identity.” —Dr Robin Smith, Marie Skłodowska-Curie Fellow, Copenhagen Business School, Denmark

Ann Wand

Segregation in Language Education The Case of South Tyrol, Italy

Ann Wand The Oxford Method Kidlington, Oxfordshire, UK

ISBN 978-3-031-32746-9    ISBN 978-3-031-32747-6 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-32747-6 © The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Cover illustration © Patrick Donovan / Getty Images This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland Paper in this product is recyclable.

To my family, without whom this book would not have been possible.

Acknowledgements

Growing up I was told that it takes a village to raise a child, but it was only as I got older and conducted fieldwork that I realised it sometimes takes a province to raise an anthropologist. Through the course of the past decade, I have grown exponentially and a large part of this is due to the consistent long-term supervision and editing critique of Dr Robert Parkin, Emeritus extraordinaire at the Institute of Social and Cultural Anthropology, University of Oxford. His continued advice and professional support led to my first publication in 2016 entitled ‘“Separate but equal”, segregated or stymied? Second language learning issues in South Tyrol’ through the Journal of the Anthropological Society of Oxford (JASO), Volume 8, Issue 3, the material of which is used throughout this book. In addition, this ethnography could not have been written without the persistence of my trusted amateur editor, father, and full-time supporter, Denny Lewis. Not only have they each continued to put their faith in my (post-)doctoral research, but each one has also taught me the invaluable lesson of what it means to have faith in myself as a researcher, author, and ethnographer. But before I begin, I would like to thank the numerous individuals far and wide who in some form or fashion have contributed towards making this book possible starting with Dr Nicolette Makovicky, course director and departmental lecturer at the Oxford School of Global and Area vii

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Studies, University of Oxford. Not only has she been a wonderful friend and colleague, but her level-headedness and kind words of encouragement have been an invaluable asset especially during the heavy re-­working of my doctoral thesis. My heartfelt gratitude also goes out to Dr Elisabeth Alber at Eurac Research. She was my first point of contact when I moved to Bozen-Bolzano, Italy in May 2011. She not only provided me with a working space at the academy, but introduced me to her colleagues: Paulina Borowska, Greta Klotz, and Dr Francesco Palermo, who were a wealth of information and incredibly helpful when putting me in touch with initial contacts involved in educational policy. Then there are the remarkable teachers at the Istituto RainerumSalesiani Don Bosco, where I taught middle and high school English for eight months from 2011 to 2012. The former head of the language department, Dagmar Lenzen, was more of a mentor to me than she will ever know. The other teachers who worked so incredibly hard to make me feel welcomed include: Ambra Tarter (who sent me books on the South Tyrolean education system after I moved back to Oxford in May 2012), Vera Merzario (who remains a good friend and colleague), Birte Steen, and many more. The former Rector of the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano, Dr Walter Lorenz, was also a generous contact who took a genuine interest in my research within the first few weeks of fieldwork in 2011. Throughout the course of one year, he acted as my quasi-supervisor and provided good council on how to approach my topic via interviews with professors at his university. In addition, my former language tandem partner and local historian, Dr Hannes Obermair, and South Tyrolean politician, Dr Oskar Peterlini, have each contributed in their own way over the years to providing me with secondary research from South Tyrol that would not have been possible to access without their generous assistance, especially during the prolonged COVID-19 pandemic. As for the friends I made while living in Bozen-Bolzano, where do I begin? After approximately one month of fieldwork, I had the joy of meeting Sonia Reilly in 2011 while looking for part-time work as an English language teacher. Not only is her dry wit absolutely infectious, but she is simply entertaining all around. Then there is Garima De

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Pasquale who started off as my Italian instructor, but quickly became one of my closest friends and eventual bridesmaid at my wedding in 2012. In Meran-Merano I was fortunate enough to be introduced to Friedrich ‘Fidi’ Ellmenreich and his wife, Giusy Martelli, whose hospitality knows no bounds. Not only is Giusy one of the best cooks I know, but their willingness to let me eat their food and ‘pick their brains’ on the education system, even when I returned in 2016, will forever be appreciated. It was thanks to Giusy that I met Cassandra ‘Cassie’ Han and her husband Lorenzo Viti, both of whom were kind enough to invite me to an American Thanksgiving dinner in November 2011 so that I did not feel alone. I also would like to thank my mother, Keri Lewis, and mother-in-law, Ruth Wand, for being the unsung heroes throughout this entire process. Despite my mother needing a hip replacement during my first pregnancy in 2018, without her assistance at the start of this book to watch over my new-born daughter, Emily, signing a contract with Palgrave in August of that same year would have been impossible. The same must also be said of my mother-in-law, Ruth, who spent countless hours during the COVID-19 pandemic at the start of 2021 (after nine months without childcare) watching my daughter most afternoons so that I could squeeze in a few hours when possible, between running my business and my podcast, to work on this book. After the birth of my son, Austin, in March 2022, the two of them tag-teamed for months so that I could spend some portions of my maternity leave (whether I liked it or not) researching, heavily editing, and (re)writing my manuscript so that I could complete my final draft before starting my new job that December. In addition, I would like to recognise and thank Senior Commissioning Editor at Palgrave Macmillan, Cathy Scott, and her Editorial Assistant, Sarah Hills, for their patience and continued professional support through what has been a (very) challenging, but ultimately rewarding, experience. And finally, I would like to thank my husband Richard Wand for being a solid rock for the past 13 years. Not only did he endure 14 months of separation while I was away doing fieldwork, but he loved me enough to marry me three months after I returned from Italy in 2012. It is his

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humour, cooking, and intellectual wit which have made him an incredible partner, and father to our children. It is also thanks to Emily and Austin that, despite the sleepless nights and persistent lack of childcare, I have had the privilege of raising my greatest joys and proudest achievements. As for you, the reader, I also want to thank you for taking the time to pick up this book, my life’s work, even if just for a little while. May the pages inside inspire you to venture out to this unique part of the world.

Contents

1 T  he Prologue  1 Part I  27 2 W  illkommen in Südtirol 29 3 From Fascist Occupation to the Twenty-­First Century 55 4 Heimat, Disagio, and South Tyrolean Identity 87 Part II 121 5 Deconstructing  the German- and Italian-­Speaking Schooling Systems123 6 Language Learning ‘Blocks’: Its Victims and Its Conquerors179

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7 Varied Responses to Bilingual Education231 8 F  inal Thoughts267 I ndex

275

About the Author

Ann Wand  is the Founder and Director of The Oxford Method, an online British university preparatory programme for international students interested in attending Britain’s top universities. When she is not tutoring students in anthropology and Italian studies, she runs an educational podcast called Coffee & Cocktails®, a talk show designed to bring the world of academia to the masses.

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Abbreviations

AAA ASTAT BAS CEFR CLIL CPH ECR EU PC SLA SNRP STF SVP UN VKS

American Anthropological Association Istituto provinciale di statistica (Provincial Institute of Statistics) Befreiungsausschuss Südtirol (South Tyrolean Liberation Committee) Common European Framework of Reference for Languages Content and Language Integrated Learning Critical Period Hypothesis Early Career Researcher European Union Politically Correct Second Language Acquisition Stateless and Nationalist Regionalist Party Süd-Tiroler Freiheit (South Tyrolean Freedom) Südtiroler Volkspartei (South Tyrolean People’s Party) United Nations Völkischer Kampfring Südtirols (People’s Action Group of South Tyrol)

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1 The Prologue

 he Purpose of Ethnography and Why It T Is Important If there is one thing I learned over the course of my doctoral career, it is that anthropologists are storytellers. Our objective, if we are to follow the advice of novelist, Neil Gaiman, is to answer the question, ‘Why should the reader care?’ But more importantly, why should we care about the people we are writing about, and how do we ‘imbue’, as Gaiman puts it, ‘that care into [our] writing’ (2019) in order to instil a sense of urgency in our readers to turn the pages of an ethnographic text? Traditionally ethnographic writing has become a contradiction in terms where it wants to play ball with other academic disciplines but also remain true to an ethnographic story. This storytelling approach has a tendency in some disciplines to come across as less academic than other contemporary fields as many ethnographers would prefer to place themselves in the narrative rather than remove themselves completely. The purpose is to create a transparent dialogue between the reader, the writer, and the subject in order to elicit a more honest approach to alternative forms of analytic exploration. But there are several critics in the academic community who view ethnography as a lesser form of academic writing due in no small part to its readable flair, accused of being too creative to be of academic © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 A. Wand, Segregation in Language Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-32747-6_1

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consequence. To some degree I can appreciate this critical approach as I adhered to it for many years hoping that through distancing myself from my subject matter my writing would take on more importance. But over time I came to realise that through the studying of culture (and the people who live and move within it), the human psyche in its complexity through its varied responses to social issues cannot be limited to twodimensional forms of writing. Through taking Neil Gaiman’s online Masterclass (2019) on The art of storytelling, he explains that ‘Human beings are story-telling creatures’ in that ‘stories are vital, stories are important…and we convey truth through stories’ (ibid.). More importantly he asks himself, ‘What is my responsibility?’ (Gaiman 2019). As a writer he admits that this is a ‘huge and important [question]’, but he continues: …[M]y responsibility is to tell good stories and tell honest stories. Tell them as well as I can. Tell them to as many people as I can. My responsibility is to encapsulate as much as I can the things I believe, and the values that I believe in the stories, but also having a point of view, being willing to allow other points of view in…Those I figure are my responsibility and that, for me, has to be there at the bottom of everything that I write. (ibid.)

In addition, it should be said that ethnographic writing does not need to be boring. As academics and writers, we should want our readers to invest their time into our story and that supposed ‘highbrow’ writing may deter some readers from wanting to explore further work that we have done. Consider the controversial book by Kate Fox, Watching the English: The hidden rules of English behaviour (2004). While admittedly we could question the ins and outs of her methodological approaches to obtaining data, I want to concentrate on the reviews of her book, in particular one comment by the Daily Mail: If you like this kind of anthropology (and I do) there is a wealth of it to enjoy…Her observations are acute…fortunately she doesn’t write like an anthropologist…. (Fox 2004)

I want that last comment to sink in for just a second as we consider our role as educators and writers. If we want to engage with the general public

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(let alone the academic arena) we should be asking ourselves how we can make that possible so that our work does not remain untouched. If we want our disciplines to stand out as something that should be worth investing one’s time in, education should be shared and open to the public in an easier to access way. One way to do that is to make our writing more approachable, readable, and dare I say, more interesting. To quote Nigel Rapport, ‘Here is ethnography- the activity and the product- as a becoming: not only a record of experience but a making of experience by a writer and a means of experience for a reader’ (2010: 79).

 cademic Versus Creative Writing: Is A Ethnography Misunderstood? One question that has cropped up when writing ethnography is whether it can be considered academic; not in the sense of obtaining qualitative data (although that will be discussed in more detail below), but whether ethnographic writing promotes too much personal reflection detracting from theoretical and methodological groundwork. But before I dive into a detailed discussion on the role of personal narrative in ethnographic writing, it is important to highlight why ethnography may come across as anecdotal or discursive when compared to other academic disciplines. In a podcast I hosted through Coffee & Cocktails® in May 2019 entitled Ethnography as creative writing, I sat down with academics, Dr Kayla Rush of Clark State Community College in Springfield, Ohio, Ellen Wiles of the University of Stirling, and Dr Alfonso Del Percio of University College London to discuss the positive and negative responses to ethnographic writing in academic settings. According to Del Percio there is a set of unspoken criteria in the academic community, which indicates what ‘academic language should be’ (Wand 2019). Some reviewers have criticised his ethnographic writing by asking, ‘Where is the theory? Is this even science?’ (ibid.) while in other cases he has found that it is challenging to convince funding bodies and ‘people that ethnographic work is valuable and allows [academics] to get a really complex understanding of social life’ (ibid.). Although there is a growing acceptance

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towards more experimental forms of writing, some academics raise the issue that despite wanting to exhibit their academic research in a more creative fashion, there is a suggestive hierarchy within the academy in terms of who is permitted to produce ethnographic writing as opposed to others. For those academics who find themselves at the bottom of the academic ladder, Early Career Researchers (ECRs) can feel vulnerable when wanting to explore alternative modes of writing. As Del Percio explains, some ECRs are ‘scared to take too much risk at the very early stage of their career’ and ‘fear that ethnographic writing may not always be seen as a form of authoritative writing… and therefore…struggle sometimes or do [not] go as far as they would like in terms of introducing new ways of representing what they documented’ (Wand 2019). Wiles noticed a similar response amongst anthropologists when she hosted an ethnographic fiction workshop at the American Anthropological Association (AAA). The professors who attended who were at the top of their fields finally felt that they could explore ethnographic types of writing, something that previously they believed would have negatively affected their research profile and prevented future advancement of their careers. At the workshop she also noticed a hesitancy amongst anthropologists to explore new modes of ethnographic writing due to concerns that they would not be taken seriously enough, reducing their chances to work up the academic ladder (ibid.). According to Rush, ECRs are interested in exploring creative ways of relaying their research findings, but there tends to be a ‘block’, which prevents them from trying out different ethnographic writing styles. As a result, young academics are uncertain and feel uncomfortable about where to publish their ethnographic work despite growing interest from the bottom-up to move beyond more ‘traditional’ ways of academic writing (ibid.). In support of Rush’s comments, I found a quote by Peter Collins and Anselma Gallinat in their edited volume, The ethnographic self as resource: writing memory and experience into ethnography. In their introduction they assert that: From the 1970s on, there has been a growing tendency to acknowledge this presence, to have the anthropologist’s self step from behind the camera and

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acknowledge her presence, both to herself and others… However…it is unfortunate that this reflexivity has become a kind of reflex that is all too often confined to a preface or introduction as the new badge of ethnographic legitimacy. (2010: 4)

Wiles elicits that unless an academic piece contains more conventional, analytic writing, it may not be viewed by members of the academy as being academically rigorous. From her perspective, there is a legitimacy to that concern. In her opinion, creative writing (as an academic tool) involves training and practice and without a sense of rigor there is a risk that one’s piece of writing may not be sufficiently thought through. If proper attention is given to creative modes of writing within academia, then those practices will become more widespread and ‘add significant value to the practice of ethnography’ (Wand 2019) as an academic discipline.

 thnographic Writing and the Use of Case E Studies to Express Both Voice and Theory Neil Gaiman made an intriguing observation when he said that when it comes to writing stories, ‘…after you have written…a million words you will have your voice because your voice is the stuff you cannot help doing’ (Gaiman 2019). While ethnography has a reputation amongst some academic circles of encouraging researcher bias and lack of objectivity (see below), I believe that honest writing provides a stronger sense of authorial authenticity. In addition, it allows the author’s voice to shed more light onto an array of complex angles when understanding human society. Rush taught a course on creative ethnography as a feminist mode of sharing information. From her perspective, ‘Ethnography does away with the assumed maleness of the academic voice’ as our bodies are ‘part of how [we] make knowledge in the field’ (Wand 2019). As a white, American female these attributes ‘make’ her work even when she is writing theory as they cannot be removed from her theoretical writing ‘and that is part of what ethnography is’ (ibid.). In her opinion, creative practice takes academic writing to the next level ‘because it incorporates [the

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academic’s] own voice and the power of [their] own voice’ (ibid.). There is an old assumption within the academy that academics are only permitted to write knowledge in ‘technical language’ (Wand 2019). This mindset, she explains, ‘can be very exclusionary in a lot of ways’ (ibid.) by discouraging students from certain working-class backgrounds from participating in talks or academic discussions. ‘Some form of creative practice can unsettle that and can really shake [things] up and give a chance for other voices’ alongside the academy ‘to be heard’ (ibid.). In addition, she states that ethnographic writing can be a useful way to introduce alternative voices that are traditionally silenced or forced into certain ways of speaking within academia. The academy, she continues, is a sort of ill-fitting garment whereas creative writing says, ‘No, I do not have to change the shape of myself to fit this one particular way of writing. I am going to fix the particular way of writing to myself ’ (Wand 2019). When researchers write in a creative fashion, they make ‘alterations…to fit the academy’ but ‘at the core’ (ibid.), creative means of expression within ethnographic texts gives researchers the ‘opportunity to…upend’ (ibid.) the hierarchical and patriarchal system that academics have become accustomed to. Instead, Rush believes that the academy should be a ‘space where we can…share that knowledge we have made in the field as embodied selves in a way that we can connect with other people’ (Wand 2019). Furthermore, Wiles adds that emotion needs to be brought into writing in order for anthropology and ethnography to reflect experience. ‘Anthropology and ethnography’, according to Wiles, ‘can become much more meaningful through reflexivity…and really open the discipline of ethnography up to more diverse voices and audiences’ (ibid.). When it comes to writing theory, Wiles states that there is an assumption that to understand and address theory, one must use ‘academic jargon’ (Wand 2019) and a certain type of language in order to be seen as more professional. Del Percio explains that depending on where he publishes, the reactions he receives are mixed. This is because ‘poetic language’ (ibid.) is not normally associated with writing theory. However, ethnography goes against this assumption by creating struggles and tensions ‘to show that ethnography is a very powerful tool to do theory’ and that ethnography allows him to ‘document complexity…effect and

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emotion’ (ibid.). ‘There are some things’, Rush adds, that ‘you just cannot communicate in jargon, essentially’ (Wand 2019). Rush turned to ethnography when studying local artists in Northern Ireland whose funding had been cut due to austerity measures. Over time she realised that using standard academic jargon was not always appropriate when trying ‘to communicate how devastating’ (ibid.) the austerity measures were for her informants and how these measures ‘[made] them feel’ (ibid.). Instead, she felt that standard academic writing resulted in her research sounding ‘very trite’ or ‘too maudlin’, making her research out to be more than it was, or belittling her informants’ very real experiences (Wand 2019). Consequently, Wiles asserts that evocative ethnographic writing allows the reader to connect with the human experience, linking them to theory in order to allow academic disciplines ‘to communicate the value and meaning of their subjects’ (ibid.) to the wider global community. According to Del Percio, ethnography allows us to make sense of the complexities, doubts and effective dimensions that exist in regular society. These multiple elements to human behaviour cannot be expressed through academic jargon, but instead are better told through stories which ‘allow us to get closer to what it means to be a human being [under our] current conditions’ (ibid.). Ethnographic language allows the reader and participant observer to experience in a more visible way the disrupting moments, inequalities and societal transformations effecting our informants both at the lower and upper echelons of society (Wand 2019). The ethnographer’s use of case studies also demonstrates to the reader in a more in-depth way underlying issues occurring in society via descriptive narratives of fieldwork locations and informants’ stories. In an online blog post written by User Researcher and applied anthropologist, Leonore Phillips, called The messiness of ethnography, she states that: Ethnography has the opportunity to provide deep and rich insights into actual lived experiences and [behaviours] in a way that other methods cannot…[and] the potential to embody a meaningful, creative, and holistic framework, which stays faithful to the idea of ethnography…. (Phillips 2019)

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Moreover, ethnographic case studies, according to Patricia Duff, have the potential to contest or falsify theory by sometimes being ‘at odds with existing principles or observations’ (Duff 2014: 242). Case studies can not only generate new theories by questioning overgeneralisation tendencies within some academic fields, but: Cases that offer contradictory or disconfirming evidence or otherwise seem problematic can be valuable precisely because they reveal the complexity of the phenomenon being studied and the multiple possible interpretations that may exist or the inadequacy of existing theory…. (ibid.)

 an We Be Objective or Are We Biased? C The Role of Positionality and the Self as Informant Within Anthropology The inherent use of subjectivity is a criticism often attributed to the anthropological community as more ethnographers continue to perceive themselves as informants when analysing qualitative information. This form of reflexivity, or self as informant, is an embodied social experience, which recognises the effect ethnographers have on the people with whom they choose to study. Despite this ethnographic shift in anthropological accounts, in their chapter The ethnographic self as resource: an introduction, Peter Collins and Anselma Gallinat noticed that ‘the anthropologist’s self …[is] all too often…ghettoised and its consideration not properly developed’ (2010: 4). The anthropologist, as a result, functions as a ‘static filter’ of information on an ‘observed culture’ (ibid.) Rather than being a voice which resonates amongst others through reflecting one’s personal experience, the anthropologist as informant is removed from the data to make room for more banal interpretations. The anthropologist does not become part of the narrative, nor are they part of the overall story, but instead remain invisible to the ethnographic data by removing their experiences from the text.

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Therefore, they insist ‘that anthropologists should include personal experiences as data in their analysis’ (Collins and Gallinat 2010: 17). ‘Not to do so’ in their opinion, would ‘represent an opportunity lost and at worst a moral transgression’ (ibid.). From their perspective, the self is at the core of ethnography and analyses cannot be made without reflection. To contribute to ethnography, one’s personal experience should be part of the overall narrative (see Collins and Gallinat 2010: 11, 17). While this concept goes against the grain of many academics who attempt to distance themselves from their data, there is a ‘growing recognition’, according to Patricia Duff, that qualitative data collection is ‘co-­ constructed’ (2014: 240). In her article, she states that case studies which use ‘interviews, observations, and other approaches…the researcher’s presence and role in the study is not only visible but also shapes the data…’ (ibid.). Consequently, the researcher inadvertently plays a role in influencing collected academic data by being both the ‘research instrument’ and ‘mediating coparticipant or actor in the research process’ (ibid.). This unavoidable conundrum puts an interesting spin on the role of the qualitative researcher as ethnographies involve a joint relationship between ‘the ethnographer and her research participants’ (see Collins and Gallinat 2010: 4). As a result, Anne Kathrine Larsen explains that ‘there are two sides of our fieldwork position that need to be considered’ (2010: 74). As anthropologists our data is collected ‘in the course of interaction between the anthropologist and the “informant”’ (ibid.). But more importantly: Not only do our different stances furnish us with different pairs of spectacles through which social life can be viewed and interpreted, but our very positions and dispositions also elicit certain reactions and behaviours from our surroundings. (ibid.)

Therefore, ‘interpretations are always filtered through our own cultural lens’ (Šikić-Mićanović 2010: 46). Regardless of our backgrounds ‘what researchers observe, do and record…depends on their own lived experience and changing self ’ (ibid.). Subsequently, no matter how much anthropologists attempt to remove themselves from their collected data,

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a portion of themselves will remain in their analysis as they are part and parcel of the research process. Even our choice of fieldwork sites and the theory that we use is influenced by our experiences and personalities, which inadvertently affect how we engage with our topics and the people who we meet during our fieldwork (see Šikić-Mićanović 2010: 57). Through recognising that we cannot remove ourselves from our data (no matter how hard we try), Larsen affirms that ‘[t]he position and disposition of the anthropologist, including age and sex as well as personality traits, may bring about different responses from different people’ (2010: 75). But this does not insinuate that anthropologists are incapable of comprehending the complexities of a society. To capture a small part of an overarching system is better than ignoring it completely even if our personal attributes and academic positionalities influence our relationships with informants. To reduce personal bias in ethnographic writing, ‘critical reflexivity’ (see Duff 2014: 242) is paramount especially as objectivity is the goal in anthropology despite reality which says this is not possible. One way to question whether our own biases have worked their way into our qualitative data is ‘to constantly interrogate one’s own positionality and to scrutinise the cultural baggage’ that we carry which ‘weighs us down and causes dilemmas’ (Šikić-Mićanović 2010: 58). By re-examining ‘our own [personal] beliefs and feelings rather than just the questioning of others, we can become open to new forms of situated knowledge’ (ibid.) when collecting our own ethnographic data. According to Nancy Naples, in Feminism and method: ethnography, discourse analysis, and activist research (2003) as anthropologists ‘if we fail to explore our personal, professional and structural locations’ when analysing data, ‘we inevitably reiterate race, class and gender biases in our work’ (Šikić-Mićanović 2010: 46) regardless of our attempts towards the contrary. Therefore, when it comes to writing ethnographic texts anthropologists should place themselves in their narrative ‘to come clean “at the hyphen”’ (Šikić-Mićanović 2010: 47) and address how their position is reflected in their research findings. As Fine and Weis describe in their 1996 article:

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we have a responsibility to talk about our own identities- why we interrogate what we do, what we choose not to report, on whom we train our scholarly gaze, who is protected and not protected as we do our work. (1996: 263–264)

Not to do so only provides an inauthentic account of how our data was retrieved and collected. In addition, through ‘acknowledging [one’s own] positionality as a critical element in… conducting… fieldwork’ this ‘can make the researcher more vigilant about power relations and their impacts on the exchange and production of information and knowledge’ (Šikić-­ Mićanović 2010: 47). In The ethics of participant observation: personal reflections on fieldwork in England, Nigel Rapport asserts that ethnographic research should be presented like a novel, ‘so as to highlight the discourse between the writer and his subjects, not having them as the passive mouthpieces of the writer’s omniscient views’ (2010: 79). Not only does this form of writing reduce the power dynamics between the anthropologist and their participants, but it forces the ethnographer to reassess how they produce their research when analysing their data and informants’ views. Thus, it is important for anthropologists to critically reflect on their role as ethnographers since ‘fieldwork is generally a total experience (demanding all of the anthropologist’s resources- intellectual, physical, emotional, political and intuitive)’ (see Šikić-Mićanović 2010: 45). Through acknowledging the impact and effect that one’s identity has ‘on fieldwork and the data’ (see Šikić-Mićanović 2010: 47), the anthropologist can strive to remove their research biases when conducting their own ethnographic fieldwork.

 he Messiness That Comes With  Doing T Fieldwork My father used to always use a quote by Woody Allen when I would talk about how my fieldwork had changed: ‘If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans’; ethnography is full of unexpected changes. In Leonore Phillips’ blog post mentioned above called The messiness of

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ethnography, she refers to a graphic by Damien Newman aptly entitled ‘the squiggle’. ‘The squiggle’ is a drawing of a linear line, which ‘convey[s] the messiness of the design process’ (Phillips 2019). Starting from the left the ‘research’ process is described as a large messy squiggle of lines. This is due to the ‘uncertainty’, lack of ‘patterns’ and ‘insights’ when trying to make sense of one’s data. In order to have a ‘concept’, which Newman depicts as a more even, wavy line, uncertainty needs to transition to ‘clarity’ and ‘focus’ before one can reach their design. Newman’s objective in this rather simplistic graphic is to demonstrate how conducting research is a chaotic and confused journey that transforms over time to create a clean and polished product (see ibid.). I use this analogy to explain the messiness involved when conducting fieldwork as there seems to be a disconnect in the academic community of what ethnographic research ‘should be’. One concern that has developed in some academic fields is the need for a stringent methodology during fieldwork, one that requires a set of academic principles or ‘concise’ research methods. To be considered ‘academic’ within the social sciences qualitative and/or quantitative methods are used, but depending on the discipline, some researchers may adhere to certain quantitative or qualitative methods versus others. In the field of social and cultural anthropology, ethnographic methods are not as well defined in that aside from formal and semi-formal interviews fieldwork research involves participant observation. These methodological approaches to data collection can vary depending on the researcher with some anthropologists opting to use quantitative methods (i.e., the use of statistics, surveys, etc.) to complement their qualitative data. That said, the employment of quantitative methods is not a mandatory requirement. Instead, sociocultural anthropologists rely on qualitative methods and look for patterns in their collected data based on informant interviews, secondary data collection (i.e., policy documents, newspaper articles, government statistical research, etc.), meta-analysis, and personal observations. Any quantitative research that is collected during (or after) fieldwork is compared with one’s qualitative data to search for inconsistencies and compatible material to reinforce the anthropologist’s argument.

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This individualistic approach to academic research can understandably lead to some misconceptions as fieldwork research is more of a ‘collect as we go’ depending on what is at our own disposal. This same approach applies to conducting interviews, which are contingent on who responds to our emails. Our choice of research participants is mainly reliant on individuals who want to be part of our project, and even then, there are concerns of anonymity and the ethical implications of informant consent depending on the political climate. This means that despite the anthropologist’s best attempts to have a clear objective on their choice of research participants, the response from human subjects will inevitably dictate the direction of their choice of informants. As a result, anthropologists require flexibility when conducting ethnographic fieldwork since the direction of their topic may shift during their research depending on the informants in their study. In addition, it should be said that a single ethnographer may not be capable of conducting hundreds of interviews as most anthropologists have a limited timeline to collect their fieldwork data. Thus, Michael Agar makes an important point on the role of the ethnographer. In his book he states that: Often an ethnographer bases much of her work on intensive discussions with a very few people. Rather than looking at the distribution of a few predefined variables in a large population, she is trying to learn the interrelationships of a large number of discovered variables among a few people. (1996: 134)

Furthermore, to create a neat box of ordered facts based on patterns found within one’s data, the anthropologist must firstly accept that their informants influence the direction of their research. ‘As agents…participants shape the data, the data-collecting opportunities and the course of the fieldwork’, which includes ‘what and when they choose to tell or not to tell’ (Šikić-Mićanović 2010: 59) to the ethnographer asking for information. This incoherent path and need to ‘go with the flow’ to figure out the direction of one’s topic becomes a certain rite of passage for the burgeoning anthropologist attempting to make sense of their fieldwork. Yet

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regardless of the messiness involved in doing fieldwork and the stumbling blocks that can occur, a certain truth can emerge from a fieldworker’s perspective based on the research they have collected. When Anne Kathrine Larsen conducted fieldwork in a Norwegian hamlet her research demonstrated how a single ethnographer can still shed light on a multifaceted community. In her chapter she argues that: The hamlet can be compared with a diamond; as light reflects upon it, it shines back. But its colour, intensity and brightness will change according to the type and angle of the ray that hits it. The ideal research tool would have been something equating “sunlight”, then, which contains the whole range of visible wavelengths, revealing all aspects of village life. That, ­however, cannot be accomplished by a solitary fieldworker. She may, through various approaches, be able to grasp some of the important dimensions that constitute the composite character of the community. The alternative is to turn off the light altogether in order to avoid these often subtle and complex, ever changing appearances. Although we can still feel and measure the hard facts of the stone, the shine and beauty of the gem will be lost. (Larsen 2010: 75–76)

Therefore, it is important for anthropologists to realise that while ‘…“everyday dilemmas” are part of ethnography’ (Šikić-Mićanović 2010: 51), the daily issues faced by ethnographers conducting fieldwork research can sometimes lead to ‘unanticipated’, thought-provoking, ‘research themes’ (see Šikić-Mićanović 2010: 58). In many cases the research themes that manifest during fieldwork may not become apparent until the anthropologist is home. This is when the ethnographer has returned from the field and begins to analyse their research data. Reflexivity, mentioned above, plays an important factor when re-examining one’s ethnographic data in order to comprehend how our own positionality may have affected the material we retrieved. Through scrutinising our research findings, we may learn through the process that there were some research questions we should have asked as patterns start to emerge from our ethnographic data that may require additional investigation. Some anthropologists may be able to return to the field with a further list of questions, but others might have to make

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do with their collected data and try to match the pieces as best as they can. For those anthropologists like myself writing about fieldwork research conducted a decade ago there is one question that I wish I could have asked my informants regarding local concepts of identity. Since German- and Italian-speaking communities in South Tyrol are defined as two separate ethnic groups I was surprised to discover that German- and Italian-speakers demonstrate a certain ‘national identity’. But this was after several years of theoretical research that I came to this rather large conclusion, an ‘unanticipated’ research theme that is considered controversial but complements anthropological concepts of identity. Unfortunately, I cannot go back ten years to track down some of my informants who have forgotten me by name. Instead, I have had to rely on the data I collected to reinforce this unexpected research theme.

My Research and Fieldwork Methodology Nevertheless, it should be said that despite the unknown surprises that occur both during and after fieldwork research, the ways in which sociocultural anthropologists choose to collect their data is very much an individual process. As mentioned above, anthropologists conduct interviews, do participant observations, and collect secondary material, but one’s methodological techniques are unique to each ethnographer in shaping how they obtain their data. When I conducted fieldwork in Bozen-Bolzano, South Tyrol, Italy from 2011 to 2012 I knew that I would need a couple of part-time jobs to meet local informants. Before I left for fieldwork, I had already secured a part-time English language proof-reading position with the institute Eurac Research, who in turn was kind enough to provide me with a desk located in the basement of their library. However, after several weeks of working in their basement I wanted to interact with more informants and decided to enrol in Italian language lessons at the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano. It was there that I discovered that German-speaking South Tyroleans were struggling to learn Italian despite having studied it for ten to twelve years as part of their general education. Since the trilingual university requires that its students have a fluent comprehension of

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German, English, and Italian, I started to question why German-speaking South Tyrolean students were having difficulties speaking Italian. While I initially began fieldwork with the intent of studying German-speaking South Tyrolean politics, a new topic emerged that redirected my attention to South Tyrolean education. After living in the city of Bozen-Bolzano for approximately three months I was hired as a part-time English language teacher at an Italian-­ speaking middle and high school. It was there that I learned more about how South Tyrolean schools are linguistically segregated in order to preserve and maintain local identity through cultural and linguistic preservation. Through working at the school, I opted to change my topic from politics to education and from there was able to interact with individuals most effected by segregated legislation. While not all anthropologists take part-time jobs to conduct their fieldwork research, I found that working inside the South Tyrolean school system gave me insight to current issues in society. This unique perspective as both ‘teacher’ and ‘observer’ meant that I wore a variety of hats which I could change depending on the social situation in order to distance myself from my data. By investing my time in the education system and with individuals in the community, I could combine the knowledge I obtained at Eurac Research with on-the-ground data from informants. When I collected and analysed my fieldwork research, I divided the process into six parts: (1) formal and semi-formal interviews (2) participant observations (3) transcriptions (4) the gathering of secondary material (5) looking for patterns and gaps in the literature and data collected (6) and making sure my research was ethically conducted. During my interviews, most of my informants came from three major South Tyrolean cities: Bozen-Bolzano, Meran-Merano, and Brixen-­ Bressanone. Since I did not own a car but could travel by bus or train, working in the cities was a practical option. On a few occasions I would meet with an informant who came from the Ladin- or German-speaking valleys, but my knowledge of High German and the local German dialects was rather insufficient at best (see below). Therefore, interviews were conducted in English or Italian depending on each informant’s preference. In total I conducted fifty interviews: thirty in English and twenty in Italian. I would meet my informants in a variety of locations: their offices,

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homes, nearby cafés, the university, and at my school. The length of each interview varied from ten minutes to two or sometimes three hours. Since each of my informants were aware of the research that I was studying, the majority agreed to have our conversations recorded on my Dictaphone. It was only in the case of local politicians that I decided not to record our interviews and only two of my informants chose to communicate via email rather than meet in person. As an ethnographer studying segregated education in German- and Italian-speaking schools most of my informants were German- and Italian-speaking politicians, language teachers, parents, and students involved in South Tyrolean education. This included individuals who came from ‘mixed families’ who did not identify with one particular language group, which exposed me to the statistically unrecorded South Tyrolean citizens who identify as multilingual-speakers. Of the local politicians who I tried to interview, they were members of a varied spectrum ranging from the Green Party to the more conservative South Tyrolean People’s Party (SVP) and the Democratic Party to name a few. This meant that each politician brought with them their own perspectives on linguistic and cultural preservation which added to the multitude of various responses I received concerning segregated learning. When I met with informants, I conducted both formal and semi-­ formal interviews, some of which were more in-depth depending on my relationship with the person whom I interviewed. My objective was to try to understand people’s perspectives on segregated education and how they chose to respond to an education system that was constantly (albeit slowly) evolving. When I interviewed informants, who were sometimes in small groups, I would have a set list of questions, but at the same time I wanted the discussions to flow as if I was having a natural conversation. Obviously with politicians it was expected that our meetings would be a formal affair, but when I met with friends and colleagues at their homes and after work, the conversations were more relaxed and open-ended. This was largely due to the nature of our meetings which took place over food, coffee, and good company, but I also wanted my informants to feel comfortable asking me about my research and personal opinions. By (somewhat) stepping away from a set-list of questions the conversations

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opened-up for further dialogue and I would learn more about educational dilemmas and be directed towards additional informants. When I was not conducting interviews, my participant observations occurred at Eurac Research, and at the Italian-speaking middle and high school where I taught English. Participant observation was also conducted at the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano where I initially became aware of segregated education as a result of the South Tyrolean school system. By seeing the many sides to the education system as an instructor, researcher, and student, I started to piece together a series of components which affect language learning in the province. Once I returned from fieldwork, I began the arduous task of transcribing many hours of interviews, as well as personal observations, and translating several interviews from Italian into English. Then I compared my transcriptions to secondary material that I retrieved while working at Eurac Research and began to look for patterns in my interviews in contrast to other research on the region. Any gaps that were found in the academic literature were added to my theoretical narrative as part of my discussion on the reasons as to why two language groups may not converse with one another. As for ethical considerations when conducting fieldwork, especially within education, I only interviewed students who were eighteen years or over so that none of my informants were minors. Rather than issue consent forms, which in many instances were lost or forgotten by my students, all informants (politicians, parents, teachers, and students) were content with giving their verbal consent to use our interviews for purposes of research. Moreover, most informants were anonymised except for a few politicians who were heavily involved in the education system and whose views were already publicised.

My (Linguistic) Limitations One of the many challenges that comes with doing fieldwork in a language that is not one’s mother tongue is that ethnographers sometimes must become language learners as part of their adjustment to a province.

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In Alison Phipps’ chapter Ethnographers as language learners: from oblivion and towards an echo, she states that: Much of the preparation for fieldwork undertaken by ethnographers includes the learning of a language. This may involve evening classes…travel over long distances to institutions…[and] the paying of a language tutor…. (2010: 100)

However, this component to ethnographic research ‘is perhaps the most exposing of the ethnographer’s incompetence in the early days of fieldwork’ (ibid.) as ‘the learning of a language is an embarrassing affair and one which, in our tidied up narratives, we take care not to reveal’ (Phipps 2010: 101). Nevertheless, anthropologists may have to take steps to acquire an additional language, so that they can become an active member of society in order to participate in fieldwork. When I conducted fieldwork in South Tyrol, Italy with a timeline set for twelve months, my parameters dictated what could be achieved based on my comprehension of the local languages. In the case of South Tyrol there are three official languages: German, Italian and Ladin, but this does not include the multitude of South Tyrolean dialects or languages spoken by local migrants (for a further discussion on South Tyrolean German dialects see Chap. 6). Since I am not a German-speaking South Tyrolean, nor do I come from the Ladin-speaking valleys, my options were limited based on my understanding of Italian when I left for fieldwork. Unfortunately, my Italian had become quite rusty after many years of disuse, which meant that I had to enrol in Italian language lessons if I wanted to conduct more interviews. That said, while initially I conducted fieldwork predominately in English, my basic knowledge of Italian did not inhibit me from having meetings with informants. Instead, I spoke with German- and Italian-­ speakers who were fluent in the English language, some of whom were part of the newer generation who were raising multilingual children. Since this phenomenon on having multilingual children is rarely mentioned in literature on South Tyrol, I wanted to discover how multilingual-­ speakers adapted to segregated education.

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Overtime, I soon learned that there were several upsides to my initial linguistic limitations in that through lessons I was able to develop close relations with German-speakers trying to learn Italian. Eventually, I discovered that some German-speaking students were more comfortable speaking in English than conversing in Italian even though my language skills eventually became more fluent. This opened up the doors for later conversations related to second language learning ‘blocks’ (see Chap. 6), and why Italian-speaking students may prefer learning English as opposed to learning German. By conducting my fieldwork in English and Italian rather than in German, I became more aware of the Italian-speaking community, whose voice is drowned out in local literature. Since the German-speaking community receives more attention due to its minority status, I wanted to unearth ‘the other side’ of South Tyrol when it comes to language group dynamics. Finally, while the literature that I have read on South Tyrol has been in Italian and English, this does not insinuate that the German-speaking voice is missing from the following pages. Much of the literature by South Tyrolean German-speakers has been translated to and/or written in English or Italian, while many of my informants were South Tyrolean German-speakers, as I indicated above.1 Therefore, despite my linguistic limitations this book provides an inward glimpse of South Tyrol through the lens of segregated education with a view towards more inclusive multilingual language learning.

A Word on Certain Terminology Before I describe the two main sections of this book, I want to discuss its terminology especially in reference to the use of local labels as they pertain to language group identity. In this chapter I have mentioned there are three main language groups: German-, Italian- and Ladin-speakers,

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whose identity is linked to their mother tongue (if we exclude any multilingual-­speakers). Even though South Tyrol was initially a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire (see Chap. 3), German- and Ladin-­ speakers do not identify as ‘Austrian-speakers’. Instead, German-speakers are culturally referred to as ‘South Tyrolean’ (Giudiceandrea 2015). Very few Italian-speakers identify as South Tyrolean without qualification. Most see themselves as Italian, distantly followed by “Alto Adigean” [Alto Adige being the Italian name for South Tyrol] and “Italian-speaking South Tyrolean”. Ladin-speakers are more likely to identify as South Tyrolean, but “Ladin” on its own is the strongest identification by far. (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1038)

As a result, very few German-speakers identify themselves as ‘Italian’ (9.3 percent as of 2014), while paradoxically Italian-speakers from South Tyrol may not consider themselves ‘South Tyrolean’ (only 7.3 percent as of 2014) (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1037).2 Although these concepts of identity, from an outsider perspective, can be misleading, one objective of this book is to highlight contradictions as they relate to local group identity. Even though German- and Italian-speakers on paper are referred to as separate ethnic groups, I investigate how German- and Italian-speaking South Tyroleans exhibit a certain ‘national’ identity. In addition, when I discuss South Tyrolean education, especially ‘monolingual’ schools, I am referring to German- and Italian-speaking schools, despite both school systems teaching the others’ language. Unlike the Ladin-speaking school system, which practices an almost systematic form of multilingualism,3 German- and Italian-speaking education is more of a situational monolingualism where the schools are linguistically divided and (most) subject material (i.e., maths, religion, etc.) is taught in the schools’ official language. While there have been attempts to discuss the introduction of multilingual education (see Larin and Röggla 2019), segregated education is still the standard form of teaching in German- and Italian-speaking schools.

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 he Purpose of This Book, Its Layout, T and Its Audience Therefore, the purpose of this book is to try to understand why segregated schooling still exists, and why these legislative measures are supported by the United Nations, the Austrian, and Italian governments. My objective is to demonstrate how segregated schooling effects local group dynamics and language learning in the province, which inhibits Germanand Italian-speakers from speaking each other’s language. Since this book is the first ethnography in English to discuss South Tyrolean education, my research fills a gap in South Tyrolean literature, which is written mostly in German and Italian. Furthermore, while there has been significant research on South Tyrolean legislative policy (see Palermo 2017; Palermo and Parolari 2018), there has yet to be a debate over whether segregation should remain in South Tyrolean education. As a result, this book is sufficiently laid out into two official parts, the first of which (Chaps. 2, 3, and 4) sets the scene to provide the reader with the background history of the province. This includes the demographics and geographical layout of South Tyrol, and how identity is manifest through the use of language as a form of national identity. Since the theoretical underpinnings of this book are a diverse and complicated subject, Chap. 4 is designed to discuss the complexities involving local notions of identity. Part II (Chaps. 5, 6, and 7) provides an ethnographic narrative to describe how South Tyrol’s history and group concepts of identity effect local relations and the structure of the education system. By examining reactions to second language learning in response to segregated education, I discover other factors effecting second language learning alongside the educational environment. Through this process I conclude (Chap. 8) why segregated schooling persists in a multilingual region while I question the implications and practicalities this may have on South Tyrolean education, especially with the rise of immigration. My hope with this book is that it gains the attention of South Tyrolean politicians and individuals supporting segregated schooling policy in a region that is constantly evolving. But moreover, I would like that my

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readership includes educators involved in changing local policy as my intention is to demonstrate how local social issues manifest themselves within the school environment. While this research was conducted by an anthropologist, this book is meant for anyone outside my field with a cultivating interest and a need to right the wrongs that still exist within our own society.

Notes 1. All translations from Italian into English were conducted by myself unless stated otherwise. 2. For more information see ASTAT’s Barometro linguistico dell’Alto Adige: uso della lingua e identità linguistica in provincia di Bolzano 2014 (2015). Bolzano: ASTAT. 3. For more information see my doctoral thesis through the University of Oxford, Half spaghetti- half Knödel: cultural division through the lens of language learning (2016): https://ora.ox.ac.uk/objects/ uuid:d6391d08-­3 0ea-­4 b78-­8 fce-­c 7ac684eb74a/download_file?file_ format=pdf&safe_filename=THESIS01&type_of_work=Thesis [Accessed 30 May 2022].

References Agar, M. 1996. The professional stranger: An informal introduction to ethnography. San Diego: Academic Press. ASTAT. 2015. Barometro linguistico dell’Alto Adige: uso della lingua e identità linguistica in provincia di Bolzano 2014. [e-book] Bolzano: ASTAT. Available through: DocPlayer website. Accessed 22 July 2021. http://docplayer. org/130231815-­Barometro-­linguistico-­dell-­alto-­adige.html. Collins, P., and A. Gallinat. 2010. The ethnographic self as resource: An introduction. In The ethnographic self as resource: Writing memory and experience into ethnography, ed. P.  Collins and A.  Gallinat. New  York and Oxford: Berghahn Books. Ch.1. Duff, P. 2014. Case study research on language learning and use. Annual Review of Applied Linguistics 34: 233–255.

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Fine, M., and L. Weis. 1996. Writing the ‘wrongs’ of fieldwork: Confronting our own research/writing dilemmas in urban ethnographies. Qualitative Inquiry 2 (3): 251–274. Fox, K. 2004. Watching the English: The hidden rules of English behaviour. London: Hodder & Stoughton Ltd. Gaiman, N. 2019. The art of storytelling. [online]. Accessed 10 July 2020. https:// w w w. m a s t e rc l a s s . c o m / c l a s s e s / n e i l -­g a i m a n -­t e a c h e s -­t h e -­a r t -­o f -­ storytelling/enrolled. Giudiceandrea, L. 2015. Spaesati: italiani in Südtirol. [Kindle] Bolzano: Edition Raetia. Amazon.co.uk. Accessed 20 November 2020. https://www.amazon. co.uk/Spaesati-­Italiani-­S%C3%BCdtirol-­Lucio-­Giudiceandrea-­ebook/dp/ B014LH7E9C. Larin, S., and M. Röggla. 2019. Participatory consociationalism? No, but South Tyrol’s autonomy convention is evidence that power-sharing can transform conflicts. Nations and Nationalism 25 (3): 1018–1041. Larsen, A. 2010. Some reflections on the ‘enchantments’ of village life, or whose story is this? In The ethnographic self as resource: Writing memory and experience into ethnography, ed. P.  Collins and A.  Gallinat. New  York and Oxford: Berghahn Books. Ch.4. Naples, N. 2003. Feminism and method: Ethnography, discourse analysis, and activist research. New York: Routledge. Palermo, F. 2017. Verso una (lenta) riforma partecipata dello Statuto di autonomia del Trentino-Alto Adige/Südtirol. Le regioni: bimestrale di analisi giuridica e istituzionale 6: 1201–1209. Palermo, F., and S. Parolari, eds. 2018. Le variabili della specialità. Evidenze e riscontri tra soluzioni istituzionali e politiche settoriali. Napoli: Edizioni scientifiche italiane. Phillips, L. 2019. The messiness of ethnography. Platypus: The castac blog, [blog] July 2. Accessed 10 July 2020. http://blog.castac.org/2019/07/the-­messiness­of-­ethnography/. Phipps, A. 2010. Ethnographers as language learners: From oblivion and towards an echo. In The ethnographic self as resource: Writing memory and experience into ethnography, ed. P.  Collins and A.  Gallinat. New  York and Oxford: Berghahn Books. Ch.6. Rapport, N. 2010. The ethics of participant observation: Personal reflections on fieldwork in England. In The ethnographic self as resource: Writing memory and experience into ethnography, ed. P.  Collins and A.  Gallinat. New  York and Oxford: Berghahn Books. Ch.5.

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Šikić-Mićanović, L. 2010. Foregrounding the self in fieldwork among rural women in Croatia. In The ethnographic self as resource: Writing memory and experience into ethnography, ed. P.  Collins and A.  Gallinat. New  York and Oxford: Berghahn Books. Ch.3. Wand, A. 2019. Episode 10: Ethnography as creative writing (June 2019), Coffee & Cocktails® Podcast. [podcast] June. Accessed 10 July 2020. https://soundcloud.com/coffeeandcocktails/ethnography-­as-­creative-­writing

Part I

2 Willkommen in Südtirol

Growing up in northern Virginia along the Mason-Dixon line I was aware of the effects of segregation. The Jim Crow laws which legally permitted ‘blacks’ and ‘whites’ to attend separate schools meant that white schools had better educational facilities as opposed to its African American counterparts. This juxtaposition of ‘us’ versus ‘them’ plays an integral part in the American narrative, as the Black Lives Matter1 movement addresses the long-term repercussions of institutional segregation. When I began my research on South Tyrol, Italy in 2008 I was astonished to discover that the South Tyrolean school system endorsed segregated education. Although the histories are different and segregation (in theory) is contingent on one’s linguistic background, it was challenging to accept that institutional segregation has been encouraged and supported by local government. But upon further inspection, after many years of research, I learned that the system is multi-layered and lauded by other countries for its effective means of confronting societal contentions. South Tyrol, which is considered a peace model for success when dealing with ‘minority conflict’ (see Magliana 2000: 119), has been admired by many nation-­states and is held up as a possible role model for several eastern European countries (for an example see Benedikter 2015). According to Pallaver ‘the Dalai Lama’ and ‘the Palestinians, constantly visit South Tyrol in order to study its conflict resolution model. The [South Tyrolean] political elites, © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 A. Wand, Segregation in Language Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-32747-6_2

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regardless of linguistic group affiliation, take great pride in that’ (2014: 386). As a result, his Holiness, the XIV Dalai Lama, along with Assistant Director, Geshe Kalsang Damdul, of the Institute of Buddhist Dialects came to South Tyrol in 2009, 2012, and 2013 to visit the institute, Eurac Research. The Dalai Lama was greatly interested in studying the political initiatives between South Tyrol and the Italian state with a view that Tibetan autonomy could be a possible solution to the controversies that exist between the Chinese and Tibetan governments.2 As stated by Larin and Röggla, South Tyrol’s political system ‘is regarded as one of the most successful cases of “consociational” democracy—a political system in which people deeply divided along ethnic, linguistic, or other lines’ participate in power-sharing (2016). The model is deemed so successful by its proponents that in 2017 the South Tyrolean President Arno Kompatscher wrote a joint letter3 with the President of the Trentino, Ugo Rossi. In it they explained to Spain’s former prime minister, Mariano Rajoy and Catalan’s then President, Carles Puigdemont of the ‘success’ of South Tyrol’s autonomy, ‘[t]he unknown holy grail the Iberians ought to aspire to, in Kompatscher’s view’ (Colonnelli 2017). According to Marko: When searching for examples and thereby possible “role models” for a “successful” resolution to conflict and peace within an ethnic dispute, the South Tyrolean “model” is time and again referred to in diplomatic negotiations, international conferences or academic symposia. The common sense logic of the model stems from the fact that the population of South Tyrol live today- more than fifty years after Fascist oppression and persecution- in legal security, economic wellbeing and interethnic peace under a democratic government in autonomous self-governance. (2008: 377–378)

While it is true that tensions between language groups in South Tyrol have subsided over the course of several decades, the promotion of segregation in South Tyrolean education does not strike me as a permanent solution. In the Second Autonomy Statute,4 which I discuss throughout this book, my concern begins with Article 19. Paragraph one of the ‘Free Choice principle’, as it is sometimes called, states that the teaching that is

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imparted in German- and Italian-speaking schools should be conducted in the students’ mother tongue. However, there remains an underlying message which prohibits the official second language from being used as an accepted method for instruction in schools (see Abel 2007: 240) resulting in monolingual education. While Italian-speaking elementary schools in Bozen-Bolzano have some bilingual-speaking sections (see Chap. 5), ethnographic observations, meta-analysis, and over a decade of research indicate that the school system inhibits many students from becoming truly multilingual.5 In an article by Alessio Colonnelli he states that ‘Everybody likes the story of David and Goliath: the small guy teaches the big guy a memorable lesson. Justice is done’ (2017). But Colonnelli also explains that ‘South Tyrolean politicians have played the David card’ (ibid.) since the end of the World Wars ‘against both Italy and the local Italian-speaking minority. With reason, at the beginning and for a few decades following; but unreasonably, as of late’ (ibid.). While many German-speaking South Tyroleans might disagree with Colonnelli’s observations (see Larin and Röggla 2017), his article speaks to the importance of recognising that legislation may not appease all language groups. Although Marko discusses whether South Tyrol as a ‘model’ can be ‘exported’ to other crisis regions within Europe (2008: 378) I question whether South Tyrol is as successful as it seems within the framework of its education system. But before we discuss the education system (see Chaps. 5, 6, and 7) and the demographic layout of the province it is important to unpack South Tyrol’s legislative model and what it means to practice consociationalism. By definition, it is described as ‘a set of institutions and measures that formalise power-sharing between two or more social segments of a divided territory’ (Larin and Röggla 2016). Designed to ‘facilitate democracy in places where fair majoritarian rule is impossible’ (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1022), it has ‘four key features’ (ibid.), all of which are demonstrated to some degree in South Tyrol: 1) a ‘power-sharing executive’ 2) ‘proportional representation’ within the ‘public sector’ 3) ‘group rights in the fields of culture and education’ (see Alber 2021b: 173) and 4) some form of ‘veto rights’ towards legislation when groups feel that their interests may be under threat (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1022).6

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According to Larin and Röggla ‘[c]onsociational democracy is a pragmatic response’ (2016) to preventing the installation of one dominant group ‘over others’ (ibid.). ‘In many cases’, they explain, ‘power-­ sharing…must be guaranteed…to achieve stability’ (ibid.) between groups who cohabit the same territory within a divided region (ibid.). South Tyrol’s autonomy, states Pallaver, ‘is a successful model of how a minority problem can be solved’ between the province’s three language groups (German-, Italian- and Ladin-speakers) because ‘[i]t is based upon the principle of dissociative conflict resolution’ (2014: 376). This results in a living environment where the three main language groups are separated ‘as much as possible’ (ibid.) while the ‘principle of consociational democracy’ works to encourage cooperation between ‘the language groups’ elites’ (ibid.). As a result, the relationships in particular between the German- and Italian-speaking communities are described as having ‘sharp and bright boundaries that are managed through…power-sharing and “forced” cooperation’ (Wisthaler 2015: 4). It is a system where ‘Hilpod (2009)…Lantschner and Poggeschi (2008) believe that power-­ sharing…in South Tyrol’ is ‘important for the cultural preservation and political representation of all’ three language ‘groups, including the Italian [speaking]’ community (Wisthaler 2015: 16). However, Pallaver explains that ‘[i]n the last few years’ there has been resistance from the ground level in that despite South Tyrol’s institutionalised framework, South Tyrolean society has started ‘to undermine the existing political and institutional system’ (2014: 376). By questioning social divisions along ethnolinguistic lines ‘South Tyrol’s autonomy is moving toward further integration’ (ibid.; see Alber 2021b). The consequence is one where the ‘consociational model’ is being ‘accused of institutionalising, aggravating, and freezing divisions between’ (Wisthaler 2015: 4) the German- and Italian-speaking communities. As a result, ‘critics contend that [the] power-sharing mechanisms in South Tyrol have further institutionalised the pre-existing…divisions and boundaries in society’ (Wisthaler 2015: 4, 16). Therefore in 2008 Pallaver made the declaration that ‘the consociational model…is slightly falling apart’ (2008: 314). With surveys in South Tyrol indicating that both ‘the economic and cultural elites’ and

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members of civil society are noticing a decrease in social distancing between the language groups (Pallaver 2014: 384) this begs the question as to why the province is still institutionally divided. According to Pallaver: In spite of an ever-increasing identification with autonomy and the intensification of cooperation, South Tyrolean political elites overall do not challenge the consociational model of democracy…it has been very successful so far. Secondly, the parties want to win elections in their ethnically defined electoral sub-arenas, and, in order to win elections, they try to appeal to those voters who are still in [favour] of ethnocentric positions and reject cooperation with the other groups…This is one reason why the governing parties and elites continue to make compromises with their more ethnically oriented party wings, all of which prevents or at least postpones the definitive elimination of segregation. Ultimately, it is about holding on to power positions…Nevertheless: regarding the cooperation between the ethnic groups…today’s principle follows the logic of “as much as possible, but no definitive integration”.7 (Pallaver 2014: 388)

This last line of Pallaver’s echoes a similarity to the quote by Anton Zelger, former South Tyrolean Provincial Assessor of German-speaking education and culture, who said in 1980 ‘“the more we are apart, the better we understand each other”’ (see Marko 2008: 387; see Peterlini 2013: 45) which goes against the grain of integration. Similar to observations made by Stefano Fait who discusses this form of ‘“boundary maintenance”’ South Tyrolean society is ‘ordered [into] “ethnic drawers”…which means that individuals are forced into ethnic straitjackets that define them by their ascribed roles’ (2011: 224). Consequently, it should come as no surprise that the school system is representative of society at large as its divided education mirrors the current social fissures existent amongst the German- and Italian-speaking communities. Since the education system is designed to ‘protect’ the cultural and linguistic identities of South Tyrol’s official language groups, it provides a barrier to societal integration through its ‘separate but equal’ education policies. As a result, the school system reinforces monolingualism in a province renowned for its multilingualism. Therefore, my aim is

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to address how segregated education has had an impact on South Tyrolean society.

The Demographic Background of South Tyrol But before I describe the history of South Tyrol (see Chap. 3) and its effects on South Tyrolean identity (see Chap. 4) I want to give the reader a general description of how the province compares to other parts of Italy. South Tyrol, as I mentioned, is an autonomous province, defined by three major language groups (German-, Italian- and Ladin-speakers) with the communities divided not only in education, but in cultural and social institutions (Pallaver 2014: 382). ‘The media is also organized around separate ethnicities and their news programmes are also separated along ethnic lines’ (Pallaver 2017: 237)8 with the two major newspapers, Alto Adige and the Dolomiten, written specifically for their own language group. In addition, South Tyrol has a diverse local economy and is one of the most affluent regions in Italy. ‘The combination of economic prosperity with the fact that most of the taxes levied in the province are returned to it has made South Tyrol the envy of Italy…’ (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1034). With a GDP per capita in 2017 of EUR42,300, this put the GDP in South Tyrol at 48 percent higher than that of the whole of Italy (EUR28,500) (Eurostat 2019: 6). Unemployment rates were also registered at 3.1 percent as of 2017 (ASTAT 2018: 28) compared with the rest of Italy which was registered at 8.4 percent in March 2020 (see Istat 2020). Since South Tyrol manages 90 percent of its tax revenue, combined with ‘additional transfers from the Italian state’ (Pallaver 2014: 388), the result is one where South Tyrol has ‘authority over approximately 100 [percent] of [its] tax revenues…(Benedikter 2008)’ (ibid.) as opposed to other provinces in Italy. According to Magliana, this ‘extensive financial autonomy’ is ‘shared only with the Aosta Valley’ (2000: 53) in north-western Italy with South Tyrol receiving funding from the Italian state ‘for special programmes for social and economic development’ as well as finances from the European Union ‘for various projects and initiatives’ (ibid.).

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South Tyrol’s ‘employment figures are higher’ (Pallaver 2014: 388) than other provinces in Italy as ‘[s]ocial spending is…much higher as a result of ’ (ibid.) the increased ‘number of qualified [labourers] moving to South Tyrol’ (ibid.). With apple harvesting being one of the most important industries in the province, the varieties range from Golden Delicious (33.8 percent), Gala (17.8 percent), Red Delicious (10.9 percent), Granny Smith (9.5 percent), and Braeburn (6.4 percent) (ASTAT 2018: 37) to name a few. In South Tyrol’s rural areas agriculture has declined since the Second World War (from down to 11 percent from 43) with ‘most people today work[ing] in the industrial sector or as craftsmen (about 2 [percent]) as well as in tourism, trade and other services (63 [percent])’ (Lanthaler 2007: 223). In terms of social distribution, the German-speakers tend to reside predominately in rural parts of the province, while the Italian-speakers concentrate mainly in the cities (i.e., Bozen-Bolzano, Meran-Merano, and Leifers-Laives)9 (Voltmer 2007: 202; Telmon 1992: 79; Larin and Röggla 2019: 1034). With a total population of 533,439 as of December 2019 (ASTAT 2020: 1), South Tyrol’s official tourism website states that ‘98 [percent] of Italian[-]speakers live in cities’ (South Tyrol Information 2022) while ‘72 [percent] of the German-speaking population live in the countryside’ (ibid.). This distribution, particularly as it affects Italian-­ speakers, ‘is the result of policies and forced immigration, aimed at “Italianization” of the province, imposed on South Tyrol under the Fascist regime’ (Voltmer 2007: 202). While the majority of German-speakers live in rural villages (Lanthaler 2007: 223) dotted throughout South Tyrol, Italian-speakers have ‘a strong preference for [the] city life’ (Kaplan 1999: 50), as was evident when I was living in Bozen-Bolzano. As for the Ladin-speaking community, the smallest group in the province, they are located primarily in the Dolomites of Val Badia and Val Gardena10 and represent 4.5 percent of South Tyrol’s population (ASTAT 2018: 15; Voltmer 2007: 202). With a language that has lasted over 1,000 years and is ‘spoken by 18,000 people’ (South Tyrol Information 2022), the Ladin-speakers are sometimes classified as a ‘minority within a minority’ (Marko 2008: 387) despite having the oldest language in the province (South Tyrol Information 2022). Since German-speakers constitute 69.4 percent (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1022; ASTAT 2018: 15) of

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the total South Tyrolean population, Italian-speakers are ‘the second largest linguistic contingent’ (South Tyrol Information 2022) at 26.1 percent (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1022; ASTAT 2018: 15). Although the Ladin-­ speaking group in its own right is important with regards to minority protection, the depth and breadth of this book will only be able to cover the German- and Italian-speaking communities.11 Nevertheless, when it comes to South Tyrolean education, I discovered through the course of my research that there is a held belief by some members of the Italian-speaking community that German-speaking education is superior in quality. Although Italian-speakers have greater access to a variety of secondary schools and university since educational institutions are mainly located in the cities (Telmon 1992: 78–79), better access does not equate to a perceived ‘better education’ if you are a member of the other language group. In South Tyrol’s capital, Bozen-Bolzano, it has the highest concentration of Italian-speaking residents (73.8 percent) and houses the main campus of the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano established in 1997. The rest of the city is comprised of German-speakers (25.52 percent) and a small minority of Ladin-speakers (0.68 percent) (ASTAT 2018: 16; Fraenkel-Haeberle 2008: 277). Although the city is considered technically bilingual, it is subdivided into separate language quarters, with certain portions of the city reserved for Italian-speakers, while German-speakers live near the historic city centre or in neighbourhoods on the fringes of the town (Kaplan 1999: 50).12 Since I conducted the majority of my ethnographic research in Bozen-­ Bolzano, it is worth commenting on the city’s social fragmentation as it compares to the rest of the province. In his book Noi figli dell’autonomia: Alto Adige/Südtirol oltre il disorientamento etnico (Our children of autonomy: Alto Adige/South Tyrol beyond the ethnic disorientation), political journalist Hans Karl Peterlini referred to Bozen-Bolzano as having an invisible boundary where ‘two South Tyrolean worlds […are] divided across spheres of influence’ (2013: 236). According to film director, Gustav Hofer, who was raised in South Tyrol, the German- and Italian-­ speaking communities ‘live in worlds apart’ despite insisting ‘“We are all South Tyrolean”’ (Colonnelli 2017). While this concept of a unified South Tyrolean identity is divisive at best (see Chap. 4 for a more

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in-­depth discussion), Wisthaler admits that ‘[c]ritics of consociationalism argue that it hinders the development of an overarching common identity (Wilford and Wilson 2006) and the development of a coherent society’ (2015: 2). Additionally, Andrea Carlà ‘suggests that’ South Tyrol’s consociational model has caused the language groups ‘“[to live] apart in the same room”’ (ibid.). Therefore, Peterlini explains that in Bozen-Bolzano: the confines between the language groups are noticeable: the grandiose backdrop of the historic city centre is a fascinating mix of Italian, German tourists, local dialects, however the languages are isolated, one [in] respect to the other, like [being] under invisible glass bell jars. (2013: 236)

As a result, Pallaver adds that ‘despite physical closeness’ (2008: 322) in South Tyrol, the German- and Italian-speaking communities ‘inhabit and cultivate ethnically separated environments’ (ibid.). While South Tyrolean cities were more linguistically segregated thirty years ago, Bozen-­ Bolzano’s city layout suggests that ethnic groups are still divided, resembling the social landscape of Montreal, Canada in the 1980s. According to Monica Heller, the east end of Montreal was French, while the west end was English. Both sections were ‘divided down the middle [of the city] by a buffer zone of immigrant areas’ (1982: 109). One afternoon when I lived in Bozen-Bolzano I took a twenty-minute stroll from my apartment towards the city’s outer fringe of Gries. Since I lived in an Italian-speaking neighbourhood I was accustomed to hearing Italian, only to find myself in a German-speaking suburb devoid of Italian-speakers. In 2016 I encountered the same experience when I was visiting Meran-Merano. My friends had decided to take me to a German-­ speaking restaurant located up a mountain just outside of the city. Out of curiosity my friend asked the German-speaking waitress if she spoke Italian. ‘Oh, no-no’ she insisted, she never spoke the language, despite having Italian-speaking clientele. While these demarcated areas between rural versus urban are commonplace throughout South Tyrol, Hofer believes that German- and Italian-speakers will continue to stay divided ‘until we break up the current education system’ (Colonnelli 2017).

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 he Quota System and Declaration T of Linguistic Affiliation Another item of contention with regards to legislation as it relates to local group dynamics is the installation of the quota system, or the Proportz as it is commonly referred to in German (see Peterlini 2013: 271).13 The quota system, which I discuss in more detail below, relies on the Italian national census and declaration of linguistic affiliation,14 in order that the German-, Italian-, and Ladin-speakers are considered for certain jobs ‘according to their numerical strength’ (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 219). In his book, Peterlini states that the quota system ‘is a clear…instrument of division’ (2013: 271). Despite creating integration opportunities for language groups ‘to cooperate [together] in the course of daily work’ (ibid.), the quota system ‘is problematic…essentially because of the division that it produces at the mental level: the German-speakers here, the Italian-speakers there, and a couple of Ladin-speakers somewhere [over there]’ (ibid.). Additionally, the quota system is said to ‘[contribute] to an institutionalized separation of the [language] groups’ rather than ‘creating cohesion’ (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 224), which runs the risk of cementing further ethnolinguistic divisions. Nevertheless, there are many supporters of the quota system who see its value as a legislative model due in no small part to its historical importance, designed to help the German- and Ladin-speaking minorities. The quota system, which is seen as ‘a positive measure for minority protection…goes back to the fascist period, where German and Ladin speakers were…excluded from certain positions and resources’ (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 219). Initially based on the Gruber-De Gasperi Agreement (or Paris Agreement) of 1946 (see Chap. 3), this agreement was designed to provide better ‘“equality of rights”’ for those ‘“entering upon public offices with a view to reaching a more appropriate proportion of employment between”’ (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 220)15 German- and Italian-speakers. However, after the Second World War the majority of public administration positions were occupied by Italian-­ speakers (see Alber 2021b), so that by 1972 less than 10 percent of civil service positions in state administration were given to members of the

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German- and Ladin-speaking communities (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 219). Therefore, the quota system, established in 1972, ‘was introduced as a means to redress such disproportional distribution among Italian, German and Ladin speakers’ (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 219–220). Designed ‘to prevent a “dictatorship of the majority”’ (Poggeschi 2005: 325 cited in Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 225) through ‘proportional representation’ in South Tyrol’s ‘political bodies’ (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 225), the quota system was ‘originally conceived as a kind of affirmative action’ to deal with the ‘disparities’ between the language groups. This included the redistribution of public administration roles (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 232), which were disproportionality given to Italian-speakers. Since the quota system is woven into the fabric of the Second Autonomy Statute (1972), there are several measures of legislation which make up the main objectives of the quota system. Starting with Article 89, sometimes known as ‘the principle of proportionality’ (Wisthaler 2015: 5),16 paragraph 3 states ‘that “[t]he posts [in state offices in the Province of Bolzano]”’ (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 220) ‘shall be reserved for citizens belonging to each of the three linguistic groups in proportion to [their] numerical strength…’ (Second Autonomy Statute 1972).17 Initially designed to ‘revert the Italian dominance in the public service’ (Woelk 2008: 211), in 1988 the principle of proportionality was also extended to provincial offices (due to Provincial Law No. 40/1988) (see Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 221). Another important aspect of Article 89, when compared to the Gruber-De Gasperi Agreement, is that employment proportionality in public administration was applied to all three language groups (see Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 220). Since the Gruber-De Gasperi Agreement only included Italian- and German-speakers ‘[t]he purpose’ of Article 89 ‘was to create and maintain an ethno-linguistic pluralism inside the South Tyrolean administration’ (ibid.). As a result, ‘all public jobs’ in public administration ‘are distributed according to the proportional strength of the’ three official language groups, which is determined by the national census (Pallaver 2014: 381–382) and linked to the declaration of linguistic affiliation (see below).

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Article 15, paragraph 2 of the Second Autonomy Statute states that ‘[t]he Province of Bolzano shall use its own funding allocated for welfare, social and cultural purposes in direct proportion to the extent of each linguistic group and with reference to the needs of this group…’ (1972). This means ‘the allocation of financial resources’ within ‘the fields of culture and housing’ (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 220), as well as ‘study grants’ and ‘public welfare’ (see Pallaver 2008: 307) are based on ethnic proportionality as part of the quota system, except under ‘extraordinary’ circumstances (see Article 15, paragraph 2 cited in the Second Autonomy Statute 1972). This has posed complications for German- and Ladin-­ speakers who live in rural parts of the province as this article tends to ‘favour the Italian [-speaking] group’ who are located in the towns and cities (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 225). Finally, the third component of the quota system is based on Article 50, paragraph 2, which states: The composition of the Provincial Government of Bolzano must reflect the numerical strength of the linguistic groups as represented in the Provincial Government…One of the Vice-Presidents shall belong to the German linguistic group and the other to the Italian linguistic group…. (Second Autonomy Statute 1972)

Since ‘the composition of political bodies’ is contingent on the quota system, this includes ‘the composition of all commissions of public law’ involving the ‘legislative commission of the provincial assembly, association of districts, municipalities, city councils and also the boards of public companies’ (Pallaver 2008: 307). Given that South Tyrol is linguistically divided into 70 percent German-speakers, 25 percent Italian-speakers and 5 percent Ladin-speakers (South Tyrol Information 2022),18 this suggests that the majority of political positions are held by German-speaking representatives, which could prevent Italian- and Ladin-speakers from having a larger voice in political affairs. While I understand that at the municipal level the ethnic quota may vary on the city- with Bozen-­ Bolzano as of 2008 having ‘73 [percent] of posts…reserved for Italian speakers’ (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 222)19- the majority of civil

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service positions in state and provincial administration are reserved for German-speakers (ibid.) As the quota system is considered one of the major pillars of South Tyrolean autonomy (see Pallaver 2014) abolishing the quota system is ‘not an option for the political elite’ (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 224). Even though the ‘the quota system…is “the most visible and more immediate consequence of the institutionalized separation between the German, Italian and Ladin linguistic groups”…’ (Palermo 2006: 325 cited in Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 228–229), in practice it is viewed ‘as a system of power-sharing between the’ three language communities, ‘aimed at enhancing their peaceful coexistence’ (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 224). While there have been debates over whether the quota system should function as a ‘temporary measure’ (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 223), recent history suggests that the system will remain unless an alternate solution is created.20 Since the quota system is reliant on the results stated in the national census, the two work in tandem to determine the numerical strength of each linguistic group in the province (see Peterlini 2009: 167 for more information). Part of the national census, which is conducted every ten years (Wisthaler 2015), are ‘two “declarations of linguistic affiliation”’ (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1023); one is anonymous and the other is personal.21 According to Larin and Röggla, the anonymous declaration is mandatory ‘and is used to determine the number of people in the province who primarily speak each official language’ (2019: 1023–1024). By verifying ‘the numerical strength’ of each linguistic group this ‘forms the legal foundation of [South Tyrolean] public life (including the allocation of financial means according to the strength of the language groups)’ (Alber 2021b: 109). As this portion of the national census is obligatory by law, all Italian citizens resident in South Tyrol must affiliate themselves ‘to one of the three recognized’ language groups (Wisthaler 2015: 17). The second declaration of linguistic affiliation, also ‘known as’ the ‘“personal declaration”’ (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1024), is considered voluntary but ‘must be made by anyone who applies for any position subject to linguistic group reservation or proportionality rules’ (ibid.). Since there are many aspects of South Tyrolean life, which are governed by proportionality laws (i.e., the allocation of finances, housing, culture,

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study grants, jobs in public administration, and the composition of political bodies, etc.), the ‘voluntary’ nature of the personal declaration is controversial at best.22 At any rate, individuals who do not identify with one of the three official language groups ‘can declare themselves as “Other”’ in the personal declaration ‘but… must also choose to be “affiliated” with one of the three linguistic groups in order to participate in anything that the declaration affects’ (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1024). For those South Tyroleans who identify with more than one, or a different language group, this can pose complications for ‘other’ language speakers who do not ‘fit’ in South Tyrol’s language spectrum. But before we discuss the larger implications of the declaration of linguistic affiliation, there are some aspects of the quota system that may benefit certain language groups over others. In an article by Larin and Röggla they state that when it comes to ‘public service employment…most Italian-speakers’ think that proportional representation ‘unfairly privileges German-speakers’ (2019: 1036). In an ASTAT survey published in 2015, 70.8 percent of Italian-speakers thought that the proportionality laws favoured the German-speaking group (2015: 177). In addition, Larin and Röggla explain that while ‘[t]he system…guarantees a proportional distribution of positions across ranks…in practice most positions of status and power are held by German-speakers…’ (2019: 1036). With most administrative positions in South Tyrol located in the cities, regardless of their status and geographical location Italian-speakers ‘are ineligible for the majority of public service jobs’ (ibid.). Furthermore, Pallaver states that when it comes to the allocations of funds and ‘the distribution of public posts’, the ‘quota system can channel conflicts’ while also ‘[evoking] new conflicts…if people are excluded from resources due to their language declaration’ (2008: 313). For Italian-­ speakers wanting to work their way up through the ranks of the ‘administrative hierarchy’, Italian-speakers tend to ‘fill positions as vice-presidents, vice-delegates, etc.’, but find it harder to penetrate their way through ‘the level of top positions’ (ibid.). As a result, the quota system not only functions as a ‘mathematical means to allocate public funds…but it is also a political instrument’ (ibid.) guaranteeing certain benefits to members of the German-speaking community.

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For those South Tyrolean citizens who struggle to identify with one of the three language groups, ‘[n]on-standard forms of identity’ (see Pallaver 2008: 325) are not recognised under the quota system. As a result, individuals, foreign or otherwise, who do not align themselves to the three official language groups are excluded from provisions and ‘all the facilities that would meet their necessities efficiently’ (ibid.). This may explain why less than a third of children from multilingual families claim to have two mother tongues. When filling out the second declaration of linguistic affiliation they tend to align with one South Tyrolean language group instead of two (ASTAT 2015: 31). Therefore, the ‘voluntary’ aspect of the personal declaration strikes me as an involuntary measure, as multilingual-­ speakers and those from ‘other’ language groups may feel obliged to aggregate themselves accordingly. Additionally, the quota system and the declaration of linguistic affiliation provides a means of segregating people into three ethnic boxes without the legal possibility to recognise the multicultural and multilingual aspects of South Tyrolean society. ‘The legal institutionalization of ethnicity not only has the effect of cementing the ethnic divide in the public realm’ but also manifests itself into the ‘private life’ (see Marko 2008: 386) of citizens living in South Tyrol. This ‘spillover effect…into the private sphere’ connects ‘family affairs’ with ‘public education and with it a problem for children of bilingual [-speaking] parents’ (ibid.) as the school system is linguistically divided.

Recognising the ‘Other’ In their book Contro I miti etnici: alla ricerca di un Alto Adige diverso (Against the ethnic myths: Searching for a different South Tyrol), researchers Stefano Fait and Mauro Fattor discussed concerns faced by multilingual South Tyroleans. In an interview with Gianluca, an informant, he stated that within South Tyrol ‘the everyday reality’ does not provide possibilities for multilingual- speakers ‘to be multilingual’ (2010: 47). When having to declare his language identity as part of the quota system he asked: ‘[…] what should I write? Do I declare myself [as] “other”?’ (Fait and Fattor 2010: 47). Either way, he still must pick one language group.

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In 2016, Larin and Röggla published through the London School of Economics, Time to invite the ‘Others’ to the table: a proposal to make South Tyrol more inclusive. In their article they explain that ‘[an] association of “mixed-language” families’, including migrants and South Tyrolean biand trilingual-speakers, ‘challenged the legality of the declaration requirement on the grounds that it discriminates against people who do not identify with one or only one of ’ the official South Tyrolean language groups (2016). With an increase in intermarriage,23 many bilingual-­ speaking children (Minority Rights Group International 2022), and immigration to South Tyrol, the national census and declaration of linguistic affiliation does not recognise these multilingual speakers. This is interesting considering the BBC results of an interview in 2017 when Bethany Bell found that ‘“So many people have a German mother and an Italian father or vice versa [as South Tyrol] has always been a mixed border region”’ (Bell 2017). Even in 2002, Eichinger explained that due to globalisation, and ‘the opening towards Europe…a new model of a bilingual identity is developing’ in South Tyrol paving the way for a ‘regional self-identification’ resulting in South Tyrolean society having ‘a higher degree of linguistic variation’ (2002: 137). Nevertheless, despite this research indicating a trend towards more multilingual speakers, difficulties arise for those wanting to voice their individual concerns when it comes to South Tyrolean policies. According to Ciccolone: the declaration of ethnic belonging […] seems to represent more of an obstacle to bilingualism than a true guarantee of the rights of single linguistic groups, so much so that this mechanism ignores the emerging reality of bilingual families […] If the [quota system] represented a necessary solution [during] a period of strong social conflict, now it risks slowing down the development of a concretely plurilingual society, continuing to protect the rights of single linguistic groups and not to develop strategies of ­integration and intercultural growth. The teaching of the second language in the complex South Tyrolean school system is a clear example that still struggles to fully insert methods of immersion teaching both in the

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German-speaking school and in that of the Italian-speaking school. (2010: 47, 52).

Yet regardless of the lack of immersion language teaching in South Tyrolean education, data from the Provincial Institute of Statistics (ASTAT) on the Province of Bozen-Bolzano pointed to a significant number of South Tyrolean families who ‘[experience] multilingual traditions within the family’ (Fraenkel-Haeberle 2008: 276). Even though South Tyroleans are legally required to identify with one language group, the research indicated that many South Tyrolean parents ‘also speak a second language’ (ibid.). Many parents also believe that their children benefit from knowing and learning other languages and it is common during childhood to be exposed to acquaintances and family members who speak another South Tyrolean language (ibid.). As a result, the national census does not seem to represent all members of South Tyrolean society, since some have a fluent knowledge of two (or more) languages and feel they can identify with both. With the ASTAT survey results demonstrating a ‘shared need for multilingualism’ in South Tyrolean society (ibid.), the local government may have to reconsider its support for singular ethnolinguistic communities. Politicians who endorse monolingual education may also have to reassess their policies by supporting more multilingual options in South Tyrolean education to appease more members of South Tyrol’s constituency. Therefore, it should be no surprise that as ‘ethnic conflict decreases’ between the two major language groups (German- and Italian-speakers) ‘the less one can justify collective protection measures, which are disproportionately affecting individual rights’ (Pallaver 2008: 326). Consequently, Larin and Röggla suggest amending within the quota system: the executive proportionality rule to include “Other” and adjust the reservation of the Provincial Council’s two Vice-President positions from ­specific groups (one German and one Italian speaker) to members of the first and the second most-represented official categories in the Council…. (2016)

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This would mean that ‘the [South Tyrolean] Provincial and municipal executives’, which are in charge of law enforcement and policies, would modify their proportional representation within their Councils to include four separate language groups: German-, Italian-, Ladin-, and ‘Other-’ speakers. This would allow the two Provincial Vice-Presidents to come from any of the four separate categories (ibid.). According to Larin and Röggla, by recognising the ‘Other’ alongside the three official language groups this could ‘empower people’ who do not fit in one of the three boxes ‘without jeopardising the stability won through consociation’ (ibid.). Additionally, a fourth category for ‘other’ language groups provides ‘a wider range of political perspectives to be represented’ in the municipal and provincial parts of the South Tyrolean government (Larin and Röggla 2016). Since ‘“national identities in pluri-national places are not permanently fixed, and not everyone adheres to them- or with equal intensity if they do”’ (McGarry and O’Leary 2009: 36 cited in Larin and Röggla 2016), John McGarry and Brendan O’Leary state in their chapter Power shared after the death of thousands that liberal consociationalism may be more ‘preferable’ (Larin and Röggla 2016) to traditional consociational methods. With Larin and Röggla insisting that ‘…a more liberal approach to consociationalism’ would reduce the ethnic divisions that traditional consociationalism creates (2016), these modifications to South Tyrolean legislation may be what is needed for educational reform. But until South Tyrolean education adheres itself to a more multilingual reality, it is important to recognise how segregated education has an impact on South Tyrolean group dynamics. In addition, we should ask what steps need to take place to create alternative forms of language learning, as the South Tyrolean school system adjusts to the demands of a diverse multilingual environment. While the education system, just like the quota system, is a tool to promote ethnic division, it was established for a reason to reinforce social boundaries and protect South Tyrol’s language minorities. But over time, ‘the mistrust that characterised the relationship between the German and Italian speakers’ is largely ‘in the past’ (see Larin and Röggla 2016), so how do we move forward to establish a more inclusive environment?

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I suggest that we turn back to the twentieth century to understand how South Tyrol has changed from an Austrian territory to part of Italy’s ‘homeland’ so we can grasp the evolution of this province.

Notes 1. While I am aware that the Black Lives Matter movement in America goes well beyond the constructs of America’s education system, for the purposes of this book I refer to this movement as a comparative example when dealing with institutional segregation from the top-down and its effects on societal relations within the sphere of education. 2. A video of his Holiness, the XIV Dalai Lama, and his arrival to Eurac Research on 10 April 2013 can be found here: https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=JYwhqmnQ77M [Accessed 11 June 2020]. 3. Copies of the official letter call be found on the South Tyrolean provincial website’s News Press Office page (Provincia Autonoma di BolzanoAlto Adige: News Ufficio Stampa) under, Catalogna, lettera di Kompatscher e Rossi ai due governi (19 October 2017): http://www.provincia.bz.it/ news/it/news.asp?news_action=4&news_article_id=599720 [Accessed 8 July 2020]. 4. Official legal documents published by the Provincia Autonoma di Bolzano-­Alto Adige refer to this as Il nuovo statuto di Autonomia (in Italian) (2009) or as the ‘Special statute for Trentino-Alto Adige’ (in English) (2001), however for the purposes of this book I will refer to it as the ‘Second Autonomy Statute’ of 1972. 5. As mentioned in Chap. 1, this is not the case for the Ladin-speaking community which supports multilingual education. For a detailed account on the Ladin-speaking education system see my 2016  doctoral thesis, Half spaghetti- half Knödel: cultural division through the lens of language learning: https://ora.ox.ac.uk/objects/uuid:d6391d08-­30ea-­4b78-­8fce-­ c7ac684eb74a/download_file?file_format=pdf&safe_ filename=THESIS01&type_of_work=Thesis [Accessed 11 June 2020]. 6. For more information see Alber’s 2021a chapter Academic freedom and cross-border cooperation: conceptual reflections and a contextual analysis in relation to the South Tyrol alpine borderland. 7. The italics are my own.

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8. Vettori and Abel (2021) make similar observations. 9. The debate over place names in South Tyrol has meant that all cities, towns, and street names are double-barrelled primarily in German first and then Italian (although the order of which language comes first has been known to vary depending on the dominant language of the area, based on personal communication 2012). For further information see Bethany Bell’s article Why an Italian row over place names is dredging up memories of fascism (2017). 10. According to South Tyrol’s main tourism website on their page, Languages in South Tyrol, as much as 87 percent of the Ladin-speaking community live in Val Badia and Val Gardena. See: https://www.suedtirol.info/en/ this-­is-­south-­tyrol/people/languages [Accessed 15 June 2020]. 11. For more information on the Ladin-speaking population see Poppi (2001) as well as my doctoral thesis (2016) (see above). 12. This is based on personal observations in September 2016. 13. In the course of writing this book I found 16 different names for ‘the quota system’ ranging from the proporzionale etnica (its Italian variant) (see Peterlini 2013, and Guidiceandrea 2015) to the ‘system of proportional representation’ (see Pallaver 2014: 382). To save the reader any confusion I refer to this legislation by its most recognisable name, ‘the quota system’. 14. The ‘national census’ is also referred to as the ‘general census of the population’ (see Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 226; Guidiceandrea 2015: 140), while the ‘declaration of linguistic affiliation’ is sometimes referred to as, ‘the census declaration’ (see Larin and Röggla 2019: 1022), the ‘language census’ (see ASTAT 2015), the ‘declaration of affiliation with a linguistic group’ (see Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 219), or the ‘declaration of linguistic affiliation or aggregation’ (see Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 226). 15. The original quote from the Gruber-De Gasperi Agreement can be found at the end of Woelk et al. 2008: 410. 16. This is sometimes known as the principle of ethnic proportion(s) (see Abel et al. 2012; Woelk 2008: 211), and the ethnic proportions principle (Voltmer 2007). 17. This refers to the following reference: Special Statute for Trentino-Alto Adige. 2001. SI 1972/670. Bolzano: Parliament of the Autonomous Province of Bolzano/Bozen. 18. While these figures somewhat vary from the statistical data provided by Larin and Röggla 2019, and ASTAT 2018, due to the increase of globalisation to the region, these percentages will continue to change.

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19. This is due to the high concentration of Italian-speakers in Bozen-­ Bolzano, which was registered at 73 percent as of 2008 (Lantschner and Poggeschi 2008: 222). 20. The ethnic quota system was initially only supposed to be put in place for up to thirty years starting in 1976. ‘However, the system is still in place today, regardless of the fact that the representation of language groups in their respective proportions in the civil service has been achieved…’ (Alber 2021b: 189). 21. The last census was conducted in May 2011 at the beginning of my fieldwork. Surveys were distributed from door-to-door requiring citizens to declare their linguistic affiliation. The next national census was most likely conducted in 2021, however, due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I was unable to access that information. 22. For more information see Alber (2021b: 190). 23. According to the ASTAT results of 2015, South Tyrol has ‘an approximate intermarriage rate of 5.3 per cent based on the number of residents who report more than one mother tongue (ASTAT 2015: 20)’ (Larin & Röggla 2019). While the survey results refer to ‘a minor diffusion of mixed marriages in the past decades’ stating that ‘[t]he phenomenon is not growing seeing that amongst the more [younger generations] we do not find a significantly higher percentage of [mixed marriages with] respect to adults’, 65.1 percent of German-speakers and 21.6 percent of Italian-­speakers (out of a sample size of 15,900 people) claim to belong to both German- and Italian-speaking groups (ASTAT 2015: 23). In addition, one out of five couples stated that they are not linguistically homogenous (ASTAT 2015: 32). Furthermore, Kager explains that the estimated significant increase in intermarriages since the late 1970s has ‘no up-to-date figures available’ on these bicultural people as ‘official politics still ignore’ the recognition of this group (see 1998). Personal observations from 2011, 2012 and 2016 also suggest that the numbers of intermarriages may be higher than recorded, especially in the cities.

References Abel, A. 2007. Languages in education and training. In Aspects of multilingualism in European border regions: Insights and views from Alsace, eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol, ed. A. Abel, M. Stuflesser, and L. Voltmer, 236–257. Eurac Research.

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Abel, A., C. Vettori, and D. Forer. 2012. Learning the neighbour’s language: The many challenges in achieving a real multilingual society: The case of second language acquisition in the minority-majority context of South Tyrol. European Yearbook of Minority Issues 9: 271–304. Alber, E. 2021a. Academic freedom and cross-border cooperation: Conceptual reflections and a contextual analysis in relation to the South Tyrol alpine borderland. In Academic freedom under pressure? A comparative perspective, ed. M. Seckelmann, L. Violini, C. Fraenkel-Haeberle, and G. Ragone, 45–58. Cham: Springer. ———. 2021b. South Tyrol’s model of conflict resolution: Territorial autonomy and power- Sharing. In Power-sharing in Europe: Past practice, present cases, and future directions, ed. S.  Keil and A.  McCulloch. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Ch.8. Provincia Autonoma di Bolzano  - Alto Adige: News Ufficio Stampa 2017. Catalogna, lettera di Kompatscher e Rossi ai due governi. [online]. Accessed 8 July 2020. http://www.provincia.bz.it/news/it/news.asp?news_action= 4&news_article_id=599720. ASTAT. 2015. Barometro linguistico dell’Alto Adige: uso della lingua e identità linguistica in provincia di Bolzano 2014. [e-book] Bolzano: ASTAT. Available through: DocPlayer website. Accessed 22 July 2021. http://docplayer. org/130231815-­Barometro-­linguistico-­dell-­alto-­adige.html. ———. 2018. South Tyrol in figures. [online] Provincial Statistics Institute. Accessed 8 July 2020. https://astat.provincia.bz.it/downloads/Siz_2018-­ eng(3).pdf. ———. 2020. Andamento demografico. [online] Istituto provinciale di statistica, astatinfo. Accessed 8 July 2020. https://astat.provinz.bz.it/it/news-­ pubblicazioni-­info.asp?news_action=4&news_article_id=638592. Bell. 2017. Why an Italian row over place names is dredging up memories of fascism. [online] Accessed 8 July 2020. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world­europe-­39641760. Benedikter, T. 2008. The financial system of the autonomous province of Bolzano/Bozen. In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol, ed. J.  Woelk, F.  Palermo, and J.  Marko. Leiden and Boston: Matinus Nighoff Publishers. Ch.6. Benedikter, R., 2015. East Ukraine’s four perspectives: A solution according to the South Tyrol model. Ethnopolitics Papers 37. Ciccolone, S. 2010. Lo standard tedesco in Alto Adige: l’orientamento alla norma dei tedescofoni sudtirolesi. Milan: Edizioni Universitarie di Lettere Economia Diritto.

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Colonnelli, A. 2017. South Tyrol should not be giving lessons to Barcelona. [online] openDemocracy: Free thinking for the world. Accessed 8 July 2020. https:// www.opendemocracy.net/en/can-­europe-­make-­it/south-­tyrol-­to-­barcelona/. Eichinger, L. 2002. South Tyrol: German and Italian in a changing world. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development. 23 (1& 2): 137–149. Eurostat. 2019. Regional GDP per capita ranged from 31% to 626% of the EU average in 2017. [online] Eurostat Newsrelease, February 26. Accessed 8 July 2020. https://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/documents/2995521/9618249/1-­2602 2019-­AP-­EN.pdf/f765d183-­c3d2-­4e2f-­9256-­cc6665909c80. Fait, S. 2011. A Gemütlich segregation: Multiculturalism and the iceman’s curse in Italy. In Managing ethnic diversity: Meanings and practices from an international perspective, ed. R. Hasmath. Farnham and Burlington: Ashgate. Ch. 13. Fait, S., and M. Fattor. 2010. Contro i miti etnici: alla ricerca di un Alto Adige diverso. Bolzano: Edition Raetia. Fraenkel-Haeberle, C. 2008. Linguistic rights and the use of language. In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol, ed. J. Woelk et al. Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. Ch. 14. Giudiceandrea, L., 2015. Spaesati: italiani in Südtirol. [Kindle] Bolzano: Edition Raetia. Amazon.co.uk. Accessed 20 November 2020. https://www.amazon. co.uk/Spaesati-­Italiani-­S%C3%BCdtirol-­Lucio-­Giudiceandrea-­ebook/dp/ B014LH7E9C. Heller, M. 1982. ‘Bonjour, hello?’: Negotiations of language choice in Montreal. In Language and social identity, ed. J. Gumperz. Cambridge University Press. Hilpold, P. 2009. Minderheitenschutz in Italien. völerrechtliche und verfassungsrechtliche Grundlagen. In Minderheitenschutz in Italien, ed. P.  Hilpold, 3–36. Wien: Braumüller. Il Nuovo Statuto di Autonomia. 2009. SI 1972/670. Bolzano: Provincia Autonoma di Bolzano-Alto Adige. ISTAT. 2020. Employment and unemployment (provisional estimates). [online] Istituto nazionale di statistica, press release, April 30. Accessed 8 July 2020. https://www.istat.it/en/archivio/242063. Kager, T. 1998. South Tyrol: Mitigated but not resolved. Online journal of peace and conflict resolution. [online] Accessed 10 June 2022. http://xoomer. virgilio.it/angelo1951/journal.htm Kaplan, D.H. 1999. Conflict and compromise among borderland identities in northern Italy. Tijdschrift voor Economische en Sociale Geografie 91 (1): 44–60. Lanthaler, F. 2007. The German language in South Tyrol- some sociolinguistic aspects. In Aspects of multilingualism in European border regions: Insights and views from Alsace, eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and

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South Tyrol, ed. A.  Abel, M.  Stuflesser, and L.  Voltmer, 220–234. Eurac Research. Lantschner, E., and G. Poggeschi. 2008. Quota system, census and declaration of affiliation to a linguistic group. In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol, ed. J. Woelk, F. Palermo, and J. Marko. Leiden and Boston: Matinus Nighoff publishers. Ch.12. Larin, S., and M. Röggla. 2016. Time to invite the ‘Others’ to the table: A proposal to make South Tyrol more inclusive. Democratic Audit, [blog], November 2. Accessed 8 July 2020. https://www.democraticaudit.com/2016/11/02/time-­ to-­invite-­the-­others-­to-­the-­table-­a-­proposal-­to-­make-­south-­tyrol-­more-­ inclusive/. ———. 2017. South Tyrol is a success story at a difficult time for majority– minority relations. [online] openDemocracy: Free thinking for the world. Accessed 8 July 2020. https://www.opendemocracy.net/en/can-­europe-­ make-­it/south-­tyrol-­is-­success-­story-­at-­difficult-­time-­for-­ma/. ———. 2019. Participatory consociationalism? No, but South Tyrol’s Autonomy Convention is evidence that power-sharing can transform conflicts. Nations and Nationalism 25 (3): 1018–1041. Magliana, M. 2000. The autonomous province of South Tyrol: A model of self-­ governance? Bozen/Bolzano: Europäische Akademie Bozen. Marko, J. 2008. Is there a South Tyrolean ‘model’ of conflict resolution to be exported? In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol, ed. J.  Woelk, F.  Palermo, and J.  Marko. Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. Ch.19. McGarry, J., and B. O’Leary. 2009. Power shared after the death of thousands. In Consociational theory: McGarry and O’Leary and the Northern Ireland conflict, ed. R. Taylor. London and New York: Routledge. Ch.1. Minority Rights Group International. 2022. South Tyrolese German-speakers [online] Accessed 1 June 2022. https://minorityrights.org/minorities/ south-­tyrolese-­german-­speakers/. Palermo, F. 2006. Un système de ‘proportionnelle ethnique’: le secteur public du Trentino-Haut Adige. Revue française d’administration publique (Special Issue: Fonction publique: ressembler à la population?) 118: 321–33. Pallaver, G. 2008. South Tyrol’s consociational democracy: Between political claim and social reality. In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol, ed. J.  Woelk, F.  Palermo, and J.  Marko. Leiden and Boston: Matinus Nighoff Publishers. Ch.17.

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———. 2014. South Tyrol’s changing political system: From dissociative on the road to associate conflict resolution. The Journal of Nationalism and Ethnicity 42 (3): 376–398. ———. 2017. South Tyrol: Terrorism and its reconciliation. Negotiations, consociational democracy, and power-sharing. In Dialogue against violence: The question of Trentino-South Tyrol in the international context, ed. G. Bernardini and G. Pallaver. Bologna and Berlin: Il Mulino and Duncker & Humblot. Peterlini, O. 2009. The South Tyrol autonomy in Italy: Historical, political and legal aspects. In One country, two systems, three legal orders- perspectives of evolution: Essays on Macau’s autonomy after the resumption of sovereignty by China, ed. J. Oliveira and P. Cardinal. Berlin and Heidelberg: Springer. Peterlini, H. 2013. Noi figli dell’autonomia: Alto Adige/Südtirol oltre il disorientamento etnico. Meran/Merano: Edizioni alphabeta Verlag. Poppi, C. 2001. The Ladins: People of the pale mountains. Dublin: European Bureau for Lesser Used Languages. South Tyrol Information. 2022. Languages in South Tyrol. [online]. Accessed 31 May 2022. https://www.suedtirol.info/en/this-­is-­south-­tyrol/people/ languages. Special Statute for Trentino-Alto Adige. 2001. SI 1972/670. Bolzano: Parliament of the Autonomous Province of Bolzano/Bozen. Telmon, T. 1992. Le minoranze linguistiche in Italia. Turin: Edizioni dell’Orso. Vettori, C., and A.  Abel. 2021. La scuola come unico contesto di apprendimento della seconda lingua? Il caso dell’Alto Adige. In Lingue in contatto e linguistica applicata: individui e società, ed. M.E.  Favilla and S.  Machetti, 239–254. Milano: AltLA. Voltmer, L. 2007. Languages in South Tyrol: Historical and legal aspects. In Aspects of multilingualism in European border regions: Insights and views from Alsace, eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol, ed. A. Abel, M. Stuflesser, and L. Voltmer, 201–219. Eurac Research. Wilford, R., and R. Wilson. 2006. The Trouble with Northern Ireland. Dublin: New Island. Wisthaler, V. 2015. South Tyrol: The importance of boundaries for immigrant integration. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 42 (8). Woelk, J. 2008. Individual group rights in South Tyrol: Article 2 as Grundnorm of the autonomy statute. In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol, ed. J.  Woelk, F.  Palermo, and J.  Marko. Leiden and Boston: Matinus Nighoff publishers. Ch.11. Woelk, J., F. Palermo, and J. Marko, eds. 2008. Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol. Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers.

3 From Fascist Occupation to the Twenty-­First Century

In order to comprehend how segregated education began in South Tyrol, it is important to understand the region’s local history when it transitioned and became a part of Italy. South Tyrol, which is situated in north-­ eastern Italy just south of the Austrian border, ‘has…been a contested region for 150 years…’ (Grote and Obermair 2017: xv) and is ‘characterized by a past of ethnic tensions…’ (Carlà and Mitterhofer 2019). The region, which is home to three linguistic groups (i.e., the Ladin-, Italian-, and German-speakers), ‘lived side by side for a number of centuries with only a limited amount of out-of-group communication’ (Eichinger 2002: 137). After the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Empire following the end of the First World War, ‘conflict was sparked’ (Pallaver 2017: 222) when part of Austria was annexed to Italy (Alcock 1970; Alcock 2001; see Wand 2016). Before this border shift, South Tyrol and the Trentino province originally formed a part of the south-west region of the Austrian Tyrol (see Cole and Wolf 1999: 1). Then on 3 November 1918 a ‘ceasefire between Austria-Hungary and Italy was signed’, and the following day Italian troops began to occupy what is now South Tyrol (Steininger 2003: 4). At the Paris Peace Conference on 10 September 1919 the Treaty of St Germain1 was signed ceding parts of the Tyrol to the Kingdom of Italy (Kager 1998; Alcock 2001; Steininger 2003: 5; see Cole and Wolf 1999: © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 A. Wand, Segregation in Language Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-32747-6_3

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25, 56; see Fait 2011: 222; Visser 2017: 5, 7; Alber 2021b). According to the treaty, South Tyrol and the Trentino province became the northernmost part of Italy, while the rump of Tyrol remained with Austria. The German-speaking inhabitants of South Tyrol who were enveloped into Italy were not provided with autonomy or minority protection, even though ‘public appeal by political parties characterized South Tyrol as a “victim of a peace treaty”’ (Steininger 2003: 6) that denied the right to self-determination (Steininger 2003: 5–6; Alcock 2001: 1; see Wand 2016). As a result, the decision to cede South Tyrol to Italy was in direct conflict with American President Woodrow Wilson’s ‘famous speech on 8 January 1918 containing Fourteen Points for a just peace…’ (Alcock 2001: 2) and ‘the idea of self-determination’ (Kager 1998). In Point IX of the Fourteen Points, Wilson called for the ‘“readjustment of the frontiers of Italy along clearly recognisable lines of nationality”’ (Alcock 2001: 2; see Pallaver 2017: 222; see Alber 2021b: 174 for more information). However, South Tyroleans and Austrians alike ‘considered…the transfer of South Tyrol to Italy’ to be a ‘great injustice’ (Alcock 2001: 2). To Austrians and [Tyroleans] the border between overwhelmingly German-­ speaking South Tyrol and overwhelmingly Italian-speaking Trento was clear. It lay at the Salurn Gorge, in the south of Bozen/Bolzano. (ibid.)

Unfortunately, the Italian government ‘at the Peace Conference…declared that they did not consider themselves bound by the Fourteen Points’ (Alcock 2001: 2). Instead, Italy took the position that the Trentino and South Tyrol were ‘geographically one’ (ibid.). As the Italian-speaking population of the Trentino ‘was larger than the German[-speaking] population of South Tyrol’ (ibid.), the Italian government stated that the Trentino-South Tyrol region had an Italian-­ speaking majority and should be ceded entirely to Italy (Alcock 2001: 2–3). Consequently, South Tyrol was eventually annexed to Italy on 10 October 1920 ‘without a referendum and against the wishes of [the] German-speaking population’ (see Alber 2021b: 174). The annexation, according to Steininger, was considered an ‘“abomination” before the

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eyes of history’ (2003: 6; see Wand 2016). Political representative Eduard Reut-Nicolussi stated that the cession of South Tyrol would signal the beginning of a desperate and unequal struggle between the German- and Italian-speaking communities (Steininger 2003: 5–6; see Wand 2016).

Ettore Tolomei This change of borders does not fully explain why the Italian government was determined to lay claim to a majority German-speaking region. The answers lie just north of the South Tyrolean border in the area of the Brenner Pass. In 1890 two Italian geographers, G. and O.  Marinelli, developed a theory that the Brenner Pass was the ‘natural’ frontier that divided Italy from the Austro-Hungarian Empire (Alcock 1970). This watershed theory, or ‘“natural boundary theory”’ (Steininger 2003: 15), was based on the belief that the Brenner Pass was part of an Alpine chain that connected the Black Sea to the Adriatic. The larger reason, however, was that the Brenner Pass could ‘provide a far superior natural barrier’ (Alcock 2001: 3) than the Salurn Gorge, further south, which would have been preferred by the Austrian government. When Austria lost claims to the area just south of the Brenner Pass under the Treaty of St Germain, an Italian geographer, Ettore Tolomei, took steps to ensure that South Tyrol became ‘Italianized’ (see Steininger 2003 for more information). According to Grote and Obermair, ‘By the 1890s, the pro-Italian nationalist Ettore Tolomei had developed a pseudo-­ scientific argument’ in which he believed: that Italy’s boundaries were defined by nature and not by the ethnicity of the region’s population. This view went against the grain of contemporary nationalist sentiment across Europe, which regarded ethnicity as the marker of borders. (2017: vxii)

‘As early as 1915, Tolomei began disseminating detailed and comprehensive concepts’ regarding the ‘possible annexation of South Tyrol’ (Steininger 2003: 17) to the Italian state. Originally from the city of Rovereto, in the Trentino, Tolomei (1865–1952) made constant visits to

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South Tyrol to see his grandparents, who lived in Glen bei Neumarkt, and eventually ‘became acquainted with the Dolomite mountains…where relatives owned a hotel’ (Steininger 2003: 14). Born into a ‘nationalistically oriented Italian family’ (ibid.), Tolomei adopted the Italian nationalist and cultural positions of the Dante Alighieri Society. He founded and co-edited the propaganda publication La Nazione Italiana, which, following the ideals of the Dante Alighieri Society, ‘was designed to contribute to’ the Society’s ‘emerging nationalism’ and the ‘irredentist ideas’ associated with the organisation (ibid.). Their main objectives focused on the irredentism of two areas: the capital cities of Trento in the Trentino, and Trieste in the Balkans,2 issues that later provided ‘the platform [for] Fascist nationalism’ in creating ‘the dream of a Mediterranean empire’ (Steininger 2003: 14–15). By 1906, Tolomei had established another journalistic undertaking, namely the annual journal Archivio per l’Alto Adige (Archive for South Tyrol) (Alcock 1970; Steininger 2003: 15–16), which was designed to act as an authoritative and scholarly resource that would ‘prove and propagate the “Italianness” of South Tyrol’ (Steininger 2003: 16). In his annual journal, Tolomei stated that the German-speaking residents of South Tyrol were not, in fact, the descendants of German immigrant families, but that their origins stemmed from ‘pre-german elements that had been germanised over the centuries by the dominant German-speaking administration, clergy and school system’ (Alcock 2001: 3; Alcock 1970: 14). It was therefore necessary that the German-speaking population ‘be liberated and returned to their rightful culture’ (Alcock 2001: 3) and reintroduce them to their neo-Latin origins (Alcock 1970: 14). ‘In Volume 11 of [the Archivio per l’Alto Adige] dated 1916, Tolomei published’ what he referred to as the Prontuario dei nomi locali dell’Alto Adige (Handbook on the place names of South Tyrol), in which he claimed to have translated ‘approximately 10,000 village and place names’ from German into Italian (Steininger 2003: 17). ‘These…superficial translations’ states Steininger: often [displayed] not even the slightest idea about the etymological significance of the German name; in some instances, an Italian ending was merely appended to a German designation. (ibid.)

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From 1916 to 1917, Tolomei also created maps of South Tyrol, which he sent to the Istituto De Agostini, which was ‘used by the Italian delegation at the Paris Peace Conference’ in order to ‘[give] the impression that’ South Tyrol was originally part of ‘an old Italian region’ (Steininger 2003: 18). After Fascist party leader Benito Mussolini replaced the democratic Italian government in October 1922 (Alcock 2001), he increased the Italian influence on South Tyrol by establishing a ‘Tolomei-led campaign’ designed to Italianise ‘the German-speaking population’ (Grote and Obermair 2017: xvii). ‘From November 1922 onwards’, the German language was forbidden from being taught in South Tyrolean schools and was ‘punishable by law’ (Visser 2017: 7). In addition, those teachers ‘who [were] caught teaching German [were] imprisoned’ and ‘banished to convict islands or to remote areas of southern Italy’ (ibid.). By 3 March 1923, Tolomei ‘was appointed senator’ (Steininger 2003: 18). This new position enabled him to ‘influence South Tyrolean policymaking’ (ibid.). As part of his initiative, he made ‘Italian the only official language’ (Bell 2017), and on 19 March ‘Tolomei and Giovanni Preziosi…were…assigned by [leading Fascist] Giacomo Acerbo…to put together a catalogue of measures for the Italianization of South Tyrol’ (Steininger 2003: 18). These measures ‘were [eventually] submitted to the Council of Ministers’, and by 1 July 1923 were referred to ‘as the “relazione Tolomei-­ Preziosi”’ (Tolomei-Preziosi report) (ibid.). Within two weeks of the relazione’s approval by the Italian Council of Ministers, Tolomei presented his ‘32 “provvedimenti per l’Alto Adige”’ (Provisions for South Tyrol) at the Bozen-Bolzano Municipal Theatre. As part of these measures, ‘Tolomei called for…the unification of [South Tyrol] and [the Trentino]’ (Steininger 2003: 19). He also asked for the Italianisation of all public and streets signs, and German family names3 (ibid.; see Carlà and Mitterhofer 2019; see Grote and Obermair 2017: xvii). ‘German names’ were also ‘removed from graveyards and replaced by their Italian equivalent’ (Lantschner 2008: 7). In the four-part film series, Verkaufte Heimat, which tells the story of three German-speaking South Tyrolean families, there is a scene in the first film, Brennende Lieb’ where a German-speaking couple is required to

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present themselves to an Italian administrative building. While there they are asked to change their last names from Robinsteiner to Pietracorvo, despite the German-speaking husband insisting that he does not want a ‘foreign name’ (1989). Like steps taken in the Basque region by the Spanish to eliminate the Basque language (see Judge 2000: 55), these 32 measures by Tolomei were used to eradicate ‘“German culture in South Tyrol”’ (Steininger 2003: 19). At the same time, the Fascist party hoped to assimilate all German-speakers into Italy.4

The Fascist Occupation of South Tyrol According to Steininger, ‘If one’s aim is to cause a minority to lose its national identity, then one must first deprive it of its language’ (2003: 23). With the Fascist movement from 1922 to 1943, those in power wanted to ‘stress the centralization and homogenization of language…’ (Levy 1996: 10). As a result, the German-speaking South Tyrolean population ‘were exposed to…political and Italian cultural nationalism’ (Alcock 1989: 4 cited in Kager 1998) through the suppression ‘of the German language and culture’ and ‘mass migration of Italian-speakers’ to the province (Lantschner 2008: 6). The result was one where ‘[th]e Fascists merely took…[language] policy to extremes by enforcing monolingualism in the ethno-linguistic peripheries [of the Italian state], purging foreign words from dictionaries and officially suppressing “dialects”’ (ibid.) such as those spoken in South Tyrol. In total, Tolomei’s 32 provisions were ‘carried out step by step over the following years’ where eventually ‘measures became more stringent and the life of the South Tyroleans became even more unbearable’ (Steininger 2003: 20). South Tyrolean place names were all Italianised (Visser 2017: 7) thanks to Tolomei’s maps of the Italianised region, which he had made for the Istituto De Agostini (Steininger 2003: 21). ‘[T]he name Tyrol’5 was also ‘forbidden’ (Visser 2017: 7), and banned from all newspapers, clubs, associations, written documents, named products, etc. (see Steininger 2003: 21, 23). Any German-speaking associations, clubs, or societies were ‘dissolved and their property confiscated’ (Visser 2017: 7). If the

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words ‘“Tyrolean”’, ‘“South Tyrolean”’, and ‘“German South Tyrolean”’ were used, violators could receive up to one month in prison or up to three months by 1931, including a 2,000 Lira fine (Steininger 2003: 21). Pressure was also exerted upon German language newspapers. With the Fascist authorities on a mission to suppress ‘“tendentious anti-Italian reportage”’ (Steininger 2003: 25), ‘Tyrolean…organizations and newspapers were suppressed’ (Grote and Obermair 2017: xvii) and German-­ speaking newspapers were required to submit their articles to strict censorship by the Fascist party (see Steininger 2003: 25). Eventually, Mussolini began to incorporate his fascist objectives into the South Tyrolean school system. ‘The School Law of 1 October 1923’, known as the Lex Gentile after Mussolini’s minister of education, Giovanni Gentile, was promulgated with the understanding that it would be applied to the whole of Italy. This law, however, had a detrimental impact on the German-speaking education system resulting in the closure of intermediate and secondary schools by 1927 to 1928 (Steininger 2003: 26; see Romeo 2005: 53 for more information).6 According to Lantschner, by 1928 ‘there were no longer any schools that taught in German’ except for some religion classes where instruction was ‘in the German language’ (2008: 7). As a result, Steininger states that ‘This law was “the most momentous and gravest de-nationalization decree of this time,” the “death sentence” for German public education in South Tyrol’ and for German-speaking students who were ‘subjected to a cruel process of Italianization’ (2003: 26). Fascist policies like these resulted in a form of ‘cultural genocide’ for its German-speaking students (Alcock 1989: 4 cited in Kager 1998) as the Italianisation campaign attempted to eradicate all forms of German-­ speaking identity from South Tyrol. As Fascist authorities continued to suppress the German language by requiring elementary schools to only teach in Italian (Alcock 2001): The regulations concerning school-teaching were particularly inept, in as far as [the Fascists] imposed the use of Italian…in schools for children who were German [speaking]… The Fascist attitude tried to impose, even though inconsistently and half-heartedly, a measure of artificial linguistic unification, sweeping under the carpet the fact that most people, in Italy, normally communicated in dialect. (Lepschy et al. 1996: 76)

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Nevertheless, ‘Italianization advanced year by year’ (Steininger 2003: 26) into the education system. ‘German[-speaking] teachers were dismissed’ (Steininger 2003: 27) due to the implementation of the Lex Gentile, and replaced by Italian-speakers from other parts of the country. But as German-speakers were being forced to cope with changes in the school system, Italian-speakers who had moved to South Tyrol were dealing with cultural confrontations and readjustments. Italian-speaking teachers ‘were frequently lured to South Tyrol with false promises’ (ibid.) and attracted to the province as the government provided them with a free apartment alongside a mileage allowance (ibid.). ‘But for many’ of the newly arriving Italian-speaking teachers ‘the stay in South Tyrol turned into a nightmare’ (Steininger 2003: 27). Italian educators were surprised at the lack of Italian spoken in the region, while at the same time having to adhere to the strict teaching plan to make the German-­ speaking children ‘“well-behaved little Italians”…irrespective of the linguistic, cultural and social traditions of South Tyrol’ (ibid.). Those who moved to the region were ostracised by German-speakers and found themselves marginalised. Italian-speakers in the villages ‘lived in isolation and were met with scorn, intolerance, and hostility, despite the fact that they were often better [teachers] than their reputation’ allowed (ibid.). In comparing South Tyrol to the ‘Frenchification’ in Belgium of the Dutch-speaking community: for half a century after Belgian Independence, most teaching in Brussels was offered in French to generations of Dutch-speaking pupils, most of whom understood little or nothing of what was said in the classroom [as Dutch was the language of the poor and backward]. In addition, many of the [presumably French] teachers did not understand Dutch. (Treffers-­ Daller 2002: 57)

As the German-speaking students were required to attend classes in a language they did not understand, there was resistance to these changes in the form of secret schools, also known as the ‘catacomb schools’ (Ruzza 2000: 174; Steininger 2003: 29). This ‘illegal teaching’ of the German language (Visser 2017: 5) was the brainchild of Canon Michael Gamper (1885–1956),7 who ‘became the

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driving force behind [these] clandestine’ (Steininger 2003: 29), underground schools. In 1925 they were created with the intention of maintaining the German dialect and culture (see Alcock 2001; Visser 2017: 7) and were used to ‘transmit to children…the basics of the German language’ (Romeo 2005: 53). For Gamper, he believed that ‘“Every house, every cottage must become a school, every room must be a school room where children take instruction in their mother tongue”’ (Visser 2017: 7). As the editor of the journal Volksbote, Gamper wrote his famous words concerning the Lex Gentile and why he felt the need for German-speakers to have their own catacomb schools: What should be done now? In addition to the loss of German schools, we are to lose our national customs and traditions as well? Those who hold power today would like that. A high administration official justified this measure with the explanation that the government must make the effort to raise a young generation of Italians in our land as quickly as possible. Could [the Fascists] possibly succeed? Let’s hope that our people are capable of preventing it! Now we have to imitate the early Christians. When they were no longer safe from persecution while holding religious services in public, they withdrew to the privacy of their own homes… And when they were not safe from harassment even there, they found refuge among the dead in the underground burial chambers, in the catacombs. (cited in Steininger 2003: 29)

From Gamper’s perspective, home schooling was the only option to maintain a German-speaking education (see ibid.). Through his role as chairman of the Tyrolean People’s Party, Gamper gained access to contacts in Austria and Germany who were able to provide reading material for ‘emergency schools’ throughout South Tyrol. He worked through various local organisations such as the Nazi Völkischer Kampfring Südtirols or VKS (People’s Action Group of South Tyrol) and members of the German nationalist association, Nibelungen, to gain access to German-­ based books and teaching materials that were sent ‘across the border through secret channels’ (Steininger 2003: 29–30). ‘Often…parish houses and churches were used as hiding places for these items before they were distributed to South Tyrolean pupils’

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(Steininger 2003: 30). However, as one South Tyrolean journalist, Claus Gatterer, stated, the German-based schools only added to the ‘lack of identity on the part of the children’ (Steininger 2003: 32). With lessons taught in ‘barns, attics, cellars and farmhouse kitchens…opportunities for proper instruction were severely limited’ (ibid.), and many ‘teachers were poorly trained’ (Lantschner 2008: 7). As the Italian school system taught one set of histories, the German-speaking ‘catacomb’ system taught another. The situation in the public schools also ‘became chaotic’ due to ‘the frequent personnel changes’ caused by ‘Italian teachers [leaving] the region of their own accord’ (Steininger 2003: 32). Consequently, children not only had to cope with a confounding of their own identities, but they also suffered from high illiteracy rates as well with ‘some third graders’ not being able to ‘read or write’ (ibid.). The result was one where these underground schools developed a ‘political value’ where ‘national identification’ (see Romeo 2005: 53) was expressed in education through the reinforcement of the German-­ speaking language and culture. However, the German-speaking students’ growing ‘collective identity’ was partially due to Italian suppression, which had an effect on ‘today’s grandparent[s’]’ perception of their ‘own personal identity’ (Schmidkte 1996: 275 cited in Kager 1998). Regardless, by 25 November 1925 these ‘catacomb’ schools caught the attention of the Fascist party. In 1926, Fascist attempts were made to search private residences to confiscate German schoolbooks, as well as to interrogate individuals suspected of involvement in the creation of these underground schools. This maltreatment lasted for many years ‘in an effort to destroy the catacomb schools’ (Steininger 2003: 31) with many teachers ‘admonished, fined and even imprisoned’ (Romeo 2005: 53). As a result, two German-speakers died returning from exile, supposedly due to deportation (Steininger 2003: 31). It was only in 1940 when the catacomb schools were discontinued that German became ‘officially permissible’ (Steininger 2003: 32) and was ‘reintroduced into the school system’ (Lantschner 2008: 7). In the meantime, further measures were created to reinforce the suppression of the German-speaking community through what German historian Rudolph Lill referred to as ‘“[a]n arrogant demonstration of the Italianization of South Tyrol”’ in the form of the Fascist ‘Victory

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Monument’ (Steininger 2003: 35). Considered a ‘controversial symbol’ that ‘for some…is [still] a symbol of injustice and repression’ towards the German- (and Ladin-) speaking minorities (Carlà and Mitterhofer 2019), it was established by Mussolini as a monument to the consolidation of South Tyrol: The monument was not only intended to represent the Italian victory over the enemy from beyond the Alps; rather, Mussolini also wanted a symbol for the process of Italianization he had been pushing forward, and this was to become an integral element in the new city planning being done in Bozen[-Bolzano] in conjunction with the colonization8 of South Tyrol. (Steininger 2003: 35)

‘[E]rected sometime between 1927 and 1928’ (Lantschner 2008: 8), it was ‘[d]esigned by the architect Marcello Piacentini…on the site of an Austrian war memorial’ (Carlà and Mitterhofer 2019) dedicated to Austrian soldiers who had died during World War I. The existing ‘exterior shell’ of the Austrian structure was ‘dynamited and removed’ and replaced by the ‘Victory Monument’ as a humiliating reminder of the Italian take-­ over of the once predominately German-speaking region (Steininger 2003: 35). ‘The laying of the cornerstone on 12 July 1926…became’ an Italian ‘political demonstration’ (Steininger 2003: 36). As the monument was nearing completion, the following words were inscribed upon it in Latin, along with a sculpture of the Vittoria Sagittaria with an arrow facing north towards Austria: “HIC PATRIAE FINES SISTE SIGNA HINC CETEROS EXCOLUIMUS LINGUA LEGIBUS ARTIBUS” (“Here are the borders of the fatherland. Put down our weapons” [i.e., stop our advance]. From here, we brought to the others language, laws, and arts). (Steininger 2003: 37; see Lantschner 2008: 8)

The objective of this message was to inform the German-speaking population that the Italians had brought them ‘culture and civilization’

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(Kager 1998). South Tyrol now belonged to Fascist Italy and Austria had to refrain from interference.9

 he Option, the SVP, and the Gruber-De T Gasperi Agreement However, by 1939 Mussolini’s attempts to Italianise the German-speaking population had failed as ‘seventeen years of fascism had not succeeded in assimilating them’ (Alcock 2001: 4). Changing tack, in 1934 Mussolini tried to Italianise Bozen-Bolzano by establishing an industrial zone (see ibid.) and encouraging work opportunities for Italian-speakers from neighbouring regions (Steininger 2003: 42). The objective behind hiring many Italian-speakers from communities not far from the Trentino province was to create ‘a linguistic and regional identity’ (Steininger 2003: 43) in South Tyrol to outweigh the German-speaking majority. The irony, however, was that the many Italian-speakers coming from Veneto, Belluno, Padova, and Verona brought with them their dialects and distinct cultures, creating a diverse community rather than a homogenous one (ibid.). Additionally, many Italians moved to South Tyrol from southern Italy so that by the start of the Second World War, Italian-speakers accounted for as much as 25 percent of the South Tyrolean population (Alcock 2001; see Steininger 2003: 20). As employee numbers grew, by 1942 to 1943 there were 7,000 Italian-speakers working in Bozen-Bolzano alone, and by 1947 that figure had increased to 19,000 (Steininger 2003: 43). Furthermore, the Italian-speaking population of South Tyrol had developed to such an extent that from 1910 to 1943 their numbers expanded from 7,000 to 100,000 (Carlà and Mitterhofer 2019). As more Italian-speakers arrived to the area, the German-speakers developed a heightened awareness of their own identity as a minority, especially in response to the Italian state (see Kager 1998 for more information). Indeed, Feiler has argued that ‘“the pressure to which the [German-speakers] were suddenly subjected had an identity-creating effect, leading to dissociation rather than integration”’ (Feiler 1997: 11

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cited in Kager 1998). With the Fascists banning German inscriptions on gravestones ‘which henceforth had to be in Italian’ (Steininger 2003: 33), the German-speakers wanted to preserve their language and culture in order to continue their traditions. This need for German language conservation in response to the Italian state is what Eriksen refers to as ‘linguistic retention’, which ‘enables a minority to remain distinctive, and simultaneously it prevents the [language] group from achieving equality in a country with another official language’ (1993: 144). As Nazi propaganda grew in South Tyrol, the Italian Fascist government became aware that ‘[n]one of the measures of language, schools, and public administration was able to make Italians out of German-­ speaking South Tyroleans’ (Steininger 2003: 47). Therefore, in 1939 Mussolini developed a scheme jointly with Adolf Hitler to deal with the South Tyrolean problem. Rather than focus attention on Italianising German-speaking South Tyroleans, Mussolini agreed to the Option plan to relocate the German-speakers (as opposed to the Ladin-speakers, who the Fascists considered to be Italians) out of South Tyrol (Alcock 2001: 3). The Option plan, which was considered a form of ‘“ethnic cleansing”’ (Steininger 2003: 20, 50; see Kager 1998) or ‘“human resource reallocation”’ (Steininger 2003: 50) by the Nazis, gave the German-speaking minority two choices: either stay in South Tyrol and become Italianised, or leave the province and join Hitler’s Reich ‘or a territory that Germany had conquered’ (Steininger 2003: 49; Alcock 2001; see Giudiceandrea 2015: 139; see Larin and Röggla 2019: 1021). This option left little choice for German-speakers who wanted to remain in their (newly established) Italian-speaking homeland, as their attachment to their Heimat10 (i.e., homeland) would mean that they would have to ‘give up their loyalty to their Austrian-German language and tradition’ (Grote and Obermair 2017: xviii). Steininger states that, ‘[i]f one wants to rob a minority of its identity, then one must also deprive it of its symbols’ (2003: 39). This applies all the more to one’s homeland, perhaps the most important symbol of all. Considered at the time to be a taboo topic in South Tyrolean history (see Steininger 2003: 49), divisions emerged in the German-speaking community between those who chose to leave South Tyrol, and those who chose to stay.

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In the end, 86 percent of the German-speaking population opted to take German citizenship and elected to leave northern Italy (see ibid.; see Kager 1998; see Carlà and Mitterhofer 2019; Grote and Obermair 2017: xviii; see Alber 2021b). The roughly 70,000 South Tyroleans who chose to remain were considered Dableiber or ‘traitors’ and were ostracised by the rest of the South Tyrolean public (see Fait 2011). Literally translated as ‘those who stay there’ (see Giudiceandrea 2015: 139), the Dableiber, or ‘“stayers”’ as they were also known, ‘were simultaneously accused of treason’ (Steininger 2003: 49). In the words of Romeo in his co-authored book Trentino e Alto Adige: provincia del Reich (Trentino and South Tyrol: the Reich’s province), he explains that the Option represented a sort of twisted ‘popular perception’ resulting in a ‘declaration of national identity’. This divided the German-speakers into ‘“German or Italian”, “deutsch oder walsh11”’ creating a ‘profound laceration’ which pervaded the German-speaking community (Agostini and Romeo 2002: 187). Consequently, the German-speakers ‘divided themselves between the majority Geher (those who leave) and the minority Dableiber (those who stay)’ (Agostini and Romeo 2002: 188). To provide a visual of how the ‘traitors’ were treated by those who opted to join the German Reich: On the facade of a [traitor’s] inn in which a Jewish fruit dealer had spent the night, “Hotel Israel” was painted; another was smeared with liquid manure; some barns went up in flames; [traitors’] children were pelted with stones, window panes smashed, and houses were smeared with [faeces] and dirt. Friendships, [neighbourhoods], and families were ripped apart. (Steininger 2003: 59–60)

The South Tyrolean politician Friedl Volgger, a Dableiber,12 explained that ‘“What the Jews were in the Third Reich is what some of the South Tyroleans became in the eyes of their fanatical countrymen”’(Steininger 2003: 60). But even as the Option plan was being implemented, of those 170,000 to 200,000 ‘“Optants”’ (i.e., German- and Ladin-speakers) who decided to move to the German Reich (Fait 2011: 223; Alcock 2001), only 75,000

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were able to relocate successfully due to the eruption of World War II (see Alcock 2001; Giudiceandrea 2015: 139; see Minority Rights Group International 2022; Grote and Obermair 2017: xviii; Alber 2021b) with many of them returning after the war (see Lantschner 2008: 9; see Minority Rights Group International 2022; Carlà and Mitterhofer 2019). By 1943, following ‘the overthrow of Mussolini’ (see Steininger 2003: 68), the Nazis managed to occupy South Tyrol ‘with the general support of the South Tyroleans who’ wished to be liberated from Italy (Kager 1998). From 1943 to 1945 the Nazis: denationalized the Italian population. Italian workers [who] recently found work in the new industrial zone in Bozen[-Bolzano] feared having to leave their new home. This created on the Italian side an awareness of living in a borderland of dispute. (ibid.)

That said, the Nazi take-over permitted ‘the German and Italian languages’ to ‘have equal status’ in South Tyrol (Steininger 2003: 71). Both languages could be spoken in public spaces and used for ‘official government business’ (ibid.). German-speaking schools were also reinstated (see Chap. 5) much to the pleasure of the German-speaking South Tyroleans. But the ‘Fascist Party was outlawed…[which f ]or the Italians…meant the collapse of any and all infrastructure contributing to public life in South Tyrol’ (ibid.). The Italian-speaking immigrants who had moved to the province had no established familial local roots as none had grown up in South Tyrol having instead moved there over the course of several years. Nonetheless, many remained in the region and continued to increase in numbers, a process helped by the fact that the Italians were not called to participate in military service (ibid.). In terms of local group relations, ‘[t]he overall result of the fascist experience in South Tyrol’ meant that by the time the Nazis infiltrated the province the language communities were ‘sharply divided’. ‘Ethnicity’ states Kager, ‘became…more of a category of demarcation than it was already before’ (1998). The economic divisions between the Italian industrialised cities versus the rural German- and Ladin-speaking areas meant that German-speakers tried to protect their resources ‘as a strategy for the protection of the survival of the group’ (ibid.). In fact, ‘many

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German[-speakers] felt [obliged] not to sell [their land] to Italian[speakers] in order to’ guarantee that their ‘territory would remain South Tyrolean’ (Schmidtke 1996: 275 cited in Kager 1998). As the Nazis continued to occupy South Tyrol there was hope that the province would be reunited with Austria, but at the end of the Second World War, South Tyrol remained with Italy ‘against the wishes of the [German-speaking] population’ (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1021). Shortly after the war, in 1945 the Südtiroler Volkspartei (SVP) or ‘South Tyrolean People’s Party’ was created ‘as an ethnic catch-all or ethnic unity party’ for ‘German- and Ladin-speaking South Tyroleans’ (Pallaver 2017: 228). On 8 May 1945, Erich Amonn, a Bozen-Bolzano businessman, became the leader of the SVP, which ‘was founded…by a handful of courageous men’ (Steininger 2003: 75), including South Tyrolean Dableiber, and ‘South Tyrolean resistance members’ (ibid.) from the province (see Giudiceandrea 2015: 141; see Alcock 2001).13 The SVP’s aim was to reintegrate South Tyrol with Austria and to help the South Tyrolean people exercise their right to self-determination (Steininger 2003: 76; Alcock 2001). Additionally, the SVP wanted: To fight for the recognition of the cultural, linguistic and economic rights of the South Tyroleans on the basis of democratic principles after twenty-­ five years of oppression by Fascism and National Socialism [i.e., the Nazis]. (Steininger 2003: 76)

Erich Amonn, who had supported neither the Nazi regime nor the Option plan (see Peterlini 2013: 192), became a major driving force in supporting the German-speaking minority and its identity in South Tyrol. Yet despite political efforts, autonomy was not achieved overnight. Post-war negotiations between Austria and Italy about the South Tyrolean problem resulted in a treaty between Austrian Foreign Minister Karl Gruber and Italy’s Prime Minister Alcide De Gasperi in what became known as the Gruber-De Gasperi Agreement (or Paris Agreement/Treaty of Paris) of 1946 (Steininger 2003: 101; Alcock 2001). The Agreement, which was signed on 5 September, shifted the South Tyrolean problem from an internal Italian affair to one of international importance (Steininger 2003: 99, 104; see Visser 2017: 5, 8), but it did not provide

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South Tyrol with self-determination or permit the province to reunite with Austria (Alcock 2001). Instead, the Agreement indicated that Italy was to ensure the safeguarding of ‘“the ethnic character and the cultural and economic development of the German-speaking group”’ (Giudiceandrea 2015: 130; see Minority Rights Group International 2022; and Visser 2017: 8 for more information; see Alber 2021b).14 German was also permitted to be ‘taught in schools, and German surnames’ (Minority Rights Group International 2022), and the German language were reinstated (Bell 2017; Visser 2017: 5). This meant that German could be used ‘in public offices and official documents as well as in place names’ (Visser 2017: 5). German-speakers were given ‘equal rights’ and their language ‘equal status’ with Italian (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1021). Additionally, the Agreement, which ‘was part of the [1947] Allied Peace Treaty with Italy’15 meant that Austria had ‘the right to “protect” South Tyrol’ (Steininger 2003: 104) in case Italy did not fulfil its obligations as required by the Gruber-De Gasperi Agreement. But regardless of the treaty ‘the Italians went on to renege on their commitments to the great disappointment of the South Tyroleans and the Austrians’ (Steininger 2003: 109) as the Italian government ‘interpreted the agreement in [an] extremely restrictive fashion’ which ‘began with the implementation of [South Tyrolean] autonomy’ (ibid.). Since South Tyrol remained a part of Italy, with Austria nearby as its ‘protector’, the specifics of where the autonomy framework should be drawn were not made clear for the majority German-speaking province. Instead, in June 1947 Italy ‘[enacted] a constitution’ that eventually resulted in the creation of the autonomous region of the Trentino-Alto Adige [i.e., Trentino-South Tyrol], of which ‘the corresponding autonomy legislation’ was passed in January 1948 (Steininger 2003: 104). This inclusion of South Tyrol with the Province of Trento prevented the Germanspeaking South Tyroleans from establishing their own autonomy by ensuring they would be outnumbered by Italian-speakers in this larger province. Steininger explains that De Gasperi, who was from the Trentino, knew that its citizens inclined towards separatism from the Italian state, so he promised them their autonomy by uniting South Tyrol with the Trentino province (2003: 106). Within this ‘new interconnected

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autonomous region’, South Tyroleans numbered 200,000, and Italian-­ speakers 500,000 (ibid.). At the time of the amalgamation, the Trentino was not only larger in geographical terms, but was also made up of 99 percent Italian-speakers. By comparison, South Tyrol ‘was only two-­ thirds German[-speaking]’, meaning that the combined region possessed ‘a two-thirds Italian[-speaking] majority’ (Alcock 2001: 8).

 he Bombings, the ‘Commission of 19’, T the ‘Package’, and the Statutes Two years after the Gruber-De Gasperi Agreement, the First Autonomy Statute was created in 1948 and was applied to the Trentino-Alto Adige region, as opposed to only South Tyrol (see Kager 1998). This ‘provincial constitution’, which was the eventual outcome of the Gruber-De Gasperi Agreement (see Pallaver 2017: 223), was designed to ‘ensure that the cultural, economic, and social development of the South [Tyroleans] lay in Italian hands’ (Kager 1998). As two-thirds of the region had an Italian majority, Italian became ‘the official language of the [r]egion’, but the German-speakers could use German ‘in public life’, administration, ‘and in meetings of the various levels of political bodies’ (Alcock 2001: 9; see Visser 2017: 8). Alcock explains that although South Tyrol did not obtain full autonomy, the statute did ‘[provide] for institutional power-sharing’ between the regional and provincial governments. This meant that while two-­ thirds of the Trentino-Alto Adige regional parliament consisted of Italian-­ speakers, two-thirds of the South Tyrolean parliament was made up of German-speakers. The objective was to allow each governmental body ‘to have the support of both linguistic communities’ (2001: 9). That said, the number imbalance of Italian-speakers (71.5 percent) in the region, meant that the German-speaking community was ‘easily outvoted on many decisions that directly affected them’ (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1021). When it came to education, as we shall see in Chap. 5, South Tyrol became part of ‘the Italian national educational system’, but was granted a three-part schooling system, with ‘separate administrative divisions’ for

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each language group (i.e., the German-, Italian- and Ladin-speakers) (Alcock 2001: 9). While teaching was conducted in the students’ mother tongue in German- and Italian-speaking schools, the second language was also taught by mother tongue speakers in the linguistically divided schooling system. However, while: it was obligatory for the German[-speaking] schools to teach Italian…it was not obligatory for the Italian[-speaking] schools to teach German. And relatively few Italians were taught it or bothered to learn it. In their own land they felt no need to learn German; it was not an official language. (ibid.)

By the early 1950s, regardless of modifications towards the use of German in public life, full autonomy, let alone self-determination, was not granted to the South Tyrol province. Instead ‘German- and Ladin-­ speakers saw…the annexing’ of their territory to the Italian state ‘as an existential threat’ which ‘continued under the 1948 Autonomy State’ (Larin and Röggla 2017). Since previous ‘[e]fforts’ by the Fascist party to ‘“Italianise” South Tyrol’ did not ‘improve the precarious situation of the German[-] and Ladin[-speaking] minorities’ after the creation of the First Autonomy Statute (Wisthaler 2015: 4), South Tyroleans ‘lobby[ied] for Provincial autonomy’ while secessionists participated in ‘violent attacks against the Italian state’ (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1035). In September 1956, the first ‘bombs were thrown by [South Tyrolean] activists’ who were determined ‘to draw international attention’ to the border conflict in South Tyrol (Alcock 2001: 10). Referred to as the ‘“Bombenjahre16”’, or ‘Bombing years’, this period constituted a series ‘of terrorist attacks on Italian infrastructure…and beyond which continued into the 1960s’ (Grote and Obermair 2017: xix). According to Steininger, the first bombs were targeted ‘at an army base in Bozen[-Bolzano]’ by South Tyroleans seeking self-determination (2003: 123). Four months later, in January 1957, the province saw several more bombings and 17 people were arrested. The members of the terrorist group, Befreiungsausschuss Südtirol (BAS), were responsible for the bombing attacks (ibid.). That year Silvius Magnago became the SVP’s party chairman (Lantschner 2008: 11), and by 17 November (Steininger 2003: 115) a demonstration at the Sigmundskron Castle17 was held ‘[calling] for [the]

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separation of South Tyrol from [the Trentino] and withdrawal of the South [Tyroleans] from the Regional Government coalition’ (Alcock 2001: 10). At the castle, ‘approximately 35,000 South Tyroleans gathered’ protesting ‘against pseudo-autonomy’ (Steininger 2003: 115) shouting ‘“Los von Trient!”’ (Peterlini 2012: 50) (‘“Break with [Trento]!”’) and ‘“Enough of the Pseudo-Autonomy”’ (Steininger 2003: 115). At the demonstration, the BAS passed out flyers which stated: We want to remain German and not become slaves of a people that used treason and fraud to occupy our land without a fight and for forty years has been carrying on a system of exploitation and colonization that is worse than the methods the colonists once used in Central Africa. (cited in Steininger 2003: 123)

On 4 February 1958, the SVP ‘introduced a proposal for a constitutional law for South Tyrol in the Italian parliament’ (Steininger 2003: 116). In the bill, it stated that the First Autonomy Statute had ‘“not put autonomy into operation”’ (ibid.). Therefore, the SVP asked for the Gruber-De Gasperi Agreement of 1946 to ‘be completely implemented’ in South Tyrol ‘by granting the province’ and the German-speaking population ‘“true and actual autonomy”’ (ibid.). The Italian government, however, ignored the ‘draft autonomy statute’ fearing that the proposal could endanger the italianità (Italian character) of the province by ‘creating a state within a state’ (Alcock 2001: 11). As a result, the SVP eventually resigned from the Trentino-Alto Adige regional government (Steininger 2003: 117). From 1960 to 1961 Austria took charge and decided to present ‘the South Tyrol question to the [United Nations]’ (Pallaver 2017: 231). Since Italy had ‘largely sabotaged the implementation of the autonomy provisions and minority protections’ for the German-speaking community, the United Nations [UN] was brought forward as a middle-man to encourage Austria and Italy ‘to come to a solution by means of negotiating’ (Pallaver 2017: 223). According to Pallaver: The [UN] invited Italy and Austria to sit down at a common negotiating table in order to resolve the conflict…[T]he [UN], in contrast to Italy’s

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position, acknowledged both Austria as South Tyrol’s legitimate protection power and [the] limitation of Italy’s territorial sovereignty over South Tyrol. [South Tyrol] could at any time turn to Austria as protector. The [UN] decision legitimized in this way the position of Austria as the negotiating partner of Italy concerning the South Tyrolean conflict. (Pallaver 2017: 231)

However, despite the UN’s best efforts, ‘[t]he negotiations were not productive’ as ‘Italy declared that it was prepared only to implement more effectively the existing autonomy statute, but otherwise refused to make any amendments to its statutory regulations’ (Steininger 2003: 122). In response, South Tyrolean activists blew up Ettore Tolomei’s home in Glen, South Tyrol in 1961. The bombing was a reaction to failed negotiations between the Austrian and Italian foreign ministers over how to implement the Gruber-De Gasperi Agreement of 1946 with the Italian government stating that ‘provincial autonomy for South Tyrol was absolutely out of the question!’ (Steininger 2003: 122–124). By June 1961, the bombings reached ‘its climax’ during the South Tyrolean Sacred Heart of Jesus Festival in what is now referred to as the ‘“Night of Fire”’, or Feuernacht (Steininger 2003: 124; Pallaver 2017: 223). In the end ‘over 40 transmission towers [were] blown up’ in order to bring ‘national and international coverage’ to the South Tyrol question. ‘[M]ore than 100 people [were] arrested’ and ‘sentenced to long terms of imprisonment’ where some were tortured and eventually died (Visser 2017: 8). Despite the bombings in June 1961, the Italian government created a commission on 1 September consisting of eleven Italian-speakers and eight South Tyroleans (seven German-speakers and one Ladin-speaker), which was later called the ‘“Commission of Nineteen18”’ (Steininger 2003: 125; see Peterlini 2009: 149; Pallaver 2017: 232; see Alber 2021b). The Commission ‘was assigned the task of examining the [South Tyrolean] problem from all points of view and giving the [Italian] government suggestions for a solution’ (Steininger 2003: 125). ‘The counterpart’ to the Italian government ‘was not Austria but the [SVP], which was recognized by the Italian state as the legitimate representative of the German- and Ladin-speaking’ communities (Lantschner 2008: 12). The Commission ‘was set up…with the intention of forcing Austria out of the “South Tyrol

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business” and enabling the Italians to settle things on their own’ (Steininger 2003: 129). The result was one where the Commission created ‘a report on how the dispute concerning the proper implementation of the [Gruber-De Gasperi] Agreement could be resolved’ (Pallaver 2008: 306). Eventually, ‘the results of the Commission’s work…constituted the core of what was officially accepted as the “Package” in 1969’ (Steininger 2003: 129). ‘[P]assed by’ (Pallaver 2017: 229) ‘a narrow majority of the SVP’ and eventually the Austrian and Italian governments on 23 November 1969 (Kager 1998), it ‘became the foundation of the Second Autonomy Statute of 1972’ resulting in ‘South Tyrol’s autonomy, [better] minority protection’, and an increase in economic wellbeing (Pallaver 2017: 229). The objective of the Package’s 137 measures was not to ask for separate autonomy from Italy, but to ‘[undermine] regional autonomy’ (Steininger 2003: 129) and ‘to better protect the South Tyrolean minority’ (Pallaver 2017: 233). The Package was also ‘designed to revise the 1948 [First] Autonomy statute’ (Alcock 2001: 11) so that it was more favourable and protective of the German- and Ladin-speaking communities (ibid.; see Giudiceandrea 2015: 130). In addition, the Package allowed for the expansion of South Tyrolean autonomy, which had not been provided previously in the First Autonomy Statute (Steininger 2003: 133). ‘Once the Package had been fulfilled, Austria…[filed] a declaration with the [United Nations in 1992] that the dispute [between Austria and Italy] had been resolved…’ (Steininger 2003: 134; see Woelk et al. 2008: xi). ‘The most important part of the Package’ was the eventual creation of the Second Autonomy Statute of 1972 (Steininger 2003: 134). Put ‘into force on 20 January 1972’ (Lantschner 2008: 12; see Alber 2021b: 177) the Second Autonomy Statute provided South Tyrol with the provincial legislative power to control the local education system, commerce, tourism, agriculture, public works, industrial development, etc. (Alcock 2001; Steininger 2003: 135). This new statute also guaranteed that power was transferred from the Trentino-Alto Adige region to the two provinces. While in many cases the region in Italian politics had the final say in governmental affairs, Article 3 of the new statute indicated that ‘“Autonomy of a special type

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and including certain particular provisions is granted to the provinces of [Trento] and [Bolzano] on the basis of this statute”’ (Steininger 2003: 134). This ‘devolving’ of ‘most powers from the Region to the Provinces’ resulted in institutional ‘power-sharing’ (Larin and Röggla 2017) ‘between its three official language groups (German, Italian, and Ladin)’ (Larin and Röggla 2016). Since the region was ‘now under the authority of the two provinces’ (Steininger 2003: 134), this meant that South Tyrol ‘was in the hands of the German-speaking majority “for the protection and preservation of its ethnic and cultural uniqueness” as a minority within the Italian state’ (ibid.). In addition, the new autonomy statute ‘ensured a significantly improved territorial autonomy for South Tyrol’ alongside increased minority protection ‘for German[-] and Ladin[speakers] alike’ (Pallaver 2017: 224). As Larin and Röggla explain: The 1972 Autonomy Statute desecuritised the relationship between the three linguistic groups over time by realigning the balance of power, most notably by shifting the boundary of territorial autonomy to the Province to make German-speakers the political majority, recognising German as an official and protected public language, mandating proportional public service employment to rectify historical discrimination, and instituting power-sharing to protect the interests of all three groups (but especially Italian-speakers, the new political minority). (2019: 18).

Furthermore, ‘“the German language [was] given parity with the Italian language…” (Art. 99)’ which meant that ‘in South Tyrol, German [was] granted an official status equal to that of the official State language’ (Visser 2017: 8). The statute also allowed for ‘proportional representation’, as I discussed earlier in Chap. 2, as well as ‘mandatory bilingualism of public signs and public officers’ (Carlà and Mitterhofer 2019), including mandatory bilingual ‘public service employees’ (Larin and Röggla 2017), ‘and mother tongue education’ (Carlà and Mitterhofer 2019). In addition, ‘instruction in the respective second language was made mandatory’ (Steininger 2003: 135) in South Tyrolean schools from year two (see Minority Rights Group International 2022) or year three as an ‘important precondition for achieving the goal of making the entire population of South Tyrol bilingual (Article 19)’ (Steininger 2003: 135).

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However, as we shall learn later on in Chap. 5, despite these objectives to make South Tyrol bilingual, these multilingual achievements were never fully met by the German- and Italian-speaking school systems.

A Work in Progress Twenty years later (as I mentioned above) after the Second Autonomy Statute was enacted, ‘in 1992 Austria declared the conflict settled’ (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1021) between South Tyrol and the Italian state. Since then, additional measures and legislative decrees have been added to South Tyrolean legislation in order to provide further autonomy for its citizens in the Province of Bolzano. In 2001, the Second Autonomy Statute ‘was last formally revised through the [Italian] state’s…Constitutional Reform’ (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1021), which ‘more or less amounted to’ what Alcock refers to as ‘a third Autonomy Statute’ (see Alcock 2001: 14). In addition, ‘Austria has continued to advocate for its role as guarantor for South Tyrol, in order to ensure that the autonomy statute does not change in future’ (Medda-Windischer 2008: 27). This ‘autonomy arrangement’ which is ‘an agreement between’ the German-speaking ‘national minority…and the [Italian-speaking] national majority’ (Larin and Röggla 2016) ‘is based upon a dissociative solution’ (as I explained in Chap. 2) which ‘aims at establishing negative peace’ (Pallaver 2014: 378). While over the years South Tyrol has tried to establish a more ‘positive peace’ through associative conflict resolution, politicians anticipate that ‘ethnic fragmentation’ will ‘continue to exist’ (Pallaver 2017: 226, 237) regardless of this shift in its political trajectory. In fact, in 2018 the SVP ‘entered [into] a [five-year] coalition with’ the Italian right-wing party, the Lega, which effectively allowed them to avoid ‘making concessions regarding the trend from a dissociative model of conflict resolution to an associative one (e.g., by watering down the ethnic separation in [South Tyrolean schools])’ (Alber 2021b: 186).

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However, despite these changes in local government and (supposed) fragmentations in South Tyrolean society, Carlà and Mitterhofer explain that ‘ethnic tensions have mostly vanished’ in South Tyrol (2019). Although some separations between the South Tyrolean linguistic groups remain in parts of social and political life, recent studies show that there has been a significant increase in the level of mutual trust, interaction, and cooperation between the political, economic, and intellectual elites of the various South Tyrolean language groups as well as the development of inter-ethnic initiatives within civil society. (ibid.)

Does this, therefore, suggest that the conflict is settled despite conflicting research? ‘In large part, yes, but the autonomous system continues to be a work in progress’ (Lantschner 2008: 15). While South Tyrol’s provincial governmental achievements towards ethnic cooperation are to be commended, the focus on South Tyrol as a ‘peace model’ tends to redirect attention from segregated schooling still at hand. Therefore, when referring to the end of Chap. 2 on how South Tyrol should move forward, while inclusivity is wanted by some members of the public, this goal is sometimes blocked by local legislation. With ‘strong safeguard[s]’ put in place, the Second Autonomy Statute ‘can become a golden cage and make any attempt to update the statute of a special region very difficult…’ (Alber 2021b: 178). This leaves many South Tyroleans from all three language groups in a challenging holding pattern since it has taken several decades for the Second Autonomy Statute to finally be fully implemented. As a result, when it comes to segregated education the following question we should ask is ‘how societal multilingualism should be handled in’ the province (see Eichinger 2002: 142), when we consider South Tyrol’s recent history. One way to answer that is to explore the many layers that constitute South Tyrolean identity, and how attachment to a ‘nation’, a language, and a ‘place’ has affected second language learning in the province.

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Notes 1. More information on the Treaty of St Germain can be found here on the Minority Rights Group International page, ‘South Tyrolese German-­ speakers’ (2022): https://minorityrights.org/minorities/south-­tyrolese-­ german-­speakers/ [Accessed 10 June 2022]. 2. For more information on the historical annexation of Trieste, see Maura Hametz’s book Making Trieste Italian, 1918–1954 (2005). 3. Cole and Wolf state that despite these legislative measures, when it came to Italianising German family names, ‘the operation took longer than expected and never got beyond the letter B’ (1999: 58). 4. Further information on Italianisation efforts by the Fascist government to populate new settlements annexed to Italy can be found in Roberta Pergher’s book Mussolini’s Nation-Empire: Sovereignty and Settlement in Italy’s Borderlands, 1922–1943 (2017). 5. According to Cole and Wolf, ‘The very name “South Tyrol” was prohibited; the South Tyrol became Alto Adige’ (1999: 57). 6. Further information on the history of South Tyrolean schools from 1918 to 1920 can be found in Scuole in tedesco e scuole in italiano—Il sistema scolastico altoatesino nei primi anni dopo la fine della guerra (Amministrazione Provincia Bolzano- Arte e Cultura  2019): http:// www.provincia.bz.it/arte-­cultura/archivio-­provinciale/documento-­del-­ mese.asp?news_action=4&news_article_id=631540#accept-­cookies [Accessed 10 June 2022]. 7. See Romeo (2005: 53) for more information. 8. The use of the term ‘colonisation’ in the South Tyrolean context is an interesting one, however, for the purposes of this book, I will not be referring to, nor drawing comparisons with, (post)colonial literature. While some South Tyrolean interlocutors and researchers do occasionally use terms like the ‘colonialised’ in reference to German-speakers, to concentrate on (post)colonial literature would involve ignoring the reality that some Italian-speakers have lived in South Tyrol for centuries. In addition, the scope of this book can only cover so much within its pages. Therefore, I have decided to concentrate on second language acquisition literature, alongside anthropological material, as it relates to second language learning, language identity, and group relations in the province (see Chap. 4). 9. Although debates were conducted from 2001 to 2002 over whether to change the name of ‘Victory Plaza’ (where the monument is situated) to

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‘Peace Plaza’, the changes (as of 2013) were never made (see Peterlini 2013). Nevertheless, there continues to be political struggles over whether to alter the Fascist monument into a peace monument (Kager 1998). More information on this (as well as a more detailed account on the history of the monument) can be found in Obermair’s 2016 article Monument and city- a tormented relationship. 10. A further description on the importance of Heimat in the German-­ speaking narrative will be discussed in more detail in the following chapter. 11. The italics are my own. 12. This is from personal communication with Dr John Cole (2016). 13. Film two of the Verkauft Heimat series entitled Leb’wohl du mein Südtirol provides a theatrical account involving the creation of the SVP (1989). 14. More information on the history of South Tyrol can be found in Alber’s 2021a chapter Academic freedom and cross-border cooperation: conceptual reflections and a contextual analysis in relation to the South Tyrol alpine borderland. 15. This is also referred to as the ‘1947 Italian Peace Treaty’ (see Alcock 2001: 7). 16. The italics are my own. 17. This is also referred to in Italian as Castelfirmiano (see Peterlini 2012: 50). 18. More information on the ‘Commission of 19’ can be found in Federico Scarano’s chapter, The ‘Commission of 19’: Origins and significance (2017).

References Agostini, P., and C.  Romeo. 2002. Trentino e Alto Adige: Province del Reich. Trento: Editrice TEMI. Alber, E. 2021a. Academic freedom and cross-border cooperation: Conceptual reflections and a contextual analysis in relation to the South Tyrol alpine borderland. In Academic freedom under pressure? A comparative perspective, ed. M. Seckelmann, L. Violini, C. Fraenkel-Haeberle, and G. Ragone, 45–58. Cham: Springer. ———. 2021b. South Tyrol’s model of conflict resolution: Territorial autonomy and power-Sharing. In Power-sharing in Europe: Past practice, present cases, and future directions, ed. S.  Keil and A.  McCulloch. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Ch.8.

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Alcock, A. 1970. The history of the South Tyrol question. London: Michael Joseph Ltd for the Graduate Institute of International Studies, Geneva. ———. 1989. The social causes of nationalism: The case of South Tyrol. In: European consortium for political research joint sessions. Paris, France, April 10–15. ———. 2001. The South Tyrol autonomy: A short introduction. Bozen/Bolzano: County Londonberry. Amministrazione Provincia Bolzano- Arte e Cultura, 2019. Scuole in tedesco e scuole in italiano – Il sistema scolastico altoatesino nei primi anni dopo la fine della guerra. [online]. Accessed 10 June 2022. http://www.provincia.bz.it/arte-­c ultura/archivio-­p rovinciale/documento-­d el-­m ese. asp?news_action=4&news_article_id=631540#accept-­cookies. Bell. 2017. Why an Italian row over place names is dredging up memories of fascism. [online]. Accessed 10 June 2022. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/ world-­europe-­39641760 Brennende Lieb’. 1989. [film] Directed by Karin Brandauer. Italy: RAI Radiotelevisione Italiana. Carlà, A., and J. Mitterhofer. 2019. Coming to terms with controversial memories in South Tyrol: The monument of victory of Bolzano/Boze. Europe Now, [online]. Accessed 10 June 2022. https://www.europenowjournal. org/2019/04/04/coming-­to-­terms-­with-­controversial-­memories-­in-­south-­ tyrol-­the-­monument-­to-­victory-­of-­bolzano-­boze/ Cole, J.W., and E.R. Wolf. 1999. The hidden frontier: Ecology and ethnicity in an Alpine valley. Berkeley, California and London: University of California Press. Eichinger, L. 2002. South Tyrol: German and Italian in a changing world. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development. 23 (1& 2): 137–149. Eriksen, T.H. 1993. Ethnicity and nationalism: Anthropological perspectives. Sterling, Virginia: Pluto Press. Fait, S. 2011. A Gemütlich segregation: Multiculturalism and the iceman’s curse in Italy. In Managing ethnic diversity: Meanings and practices from an international perspective, ed. R. Hasmath. Farnham and Burlington: Ashgate. Ch. 13. Feiler, M. 1997. South Tyrol: Model for the resolution of minority conflicts? Review of International Affairs 18 (68): 10–36. Giudiceandrea, L. 2015. Spaesati: italiani in Südtirol. [Kindle] Bolzano: Edition Raetia. Amazon.co.uk. Accessed 20 November 2020. https://www.amazon. co.uk/Spaesati-­Italiani-­S%C3%BCdtirol-­Lucio-­Giudiceandrea-­ebook/dp/ B014LH7E9C.

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Grote, G., and H.  Obermair. 2017. Introduction: South Tyrol: Land on a threshold. Really? In A land on a threshold: South Tyrolean transformations, 1915–2015, ed. G. Grote and H. Obermair, xv–xxi. Bern: Peter Lang. Hametz, M. 2005. Making Trieste Italian: 1918–1954. Trowbridge, Wiltshire: Cromwell Press. Judge, A. 2000. France: ‘one state, one nation, one language’? In Language and nationalism in Europe, ed. S. Barbour and C. Carmichael. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kager, T. 1998. South Tyrol: Mitigated but not resolved. Online journal of peace and conflict resolution, [online]. Accessed 10 June 2022. http://xoomer.virgilio.it/angelo1951/journal.htm. Lantschner, E. 2008. History of the South Tyrol conflict and its settlement. In Tolerance Through Law: Self Governance and Group Rights In South Tyrol, ed. J. Woelk, F. Palermo, and J. Marko. Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. Larin, S., and M.  Röggla. 2016. Time to invite the ‘Others’ to the table: A proposal to make South Tyrol more inclusive. Democratic Audit, [blog], November 2. Accessed 10 June 2022. https://www.democraticaudit. com/2016/11/02/time-­t o-­i nvite-­t he-­o thers-­t o-­t he-­t able-­a -­p roposal-­t o-­ make-­south-­tyrol-­more-­inclusive/. ———. 2017. South Tyrol is a success story at a difficult time for majority– minority relations. [online] openDemocracy: free thinking for the world. Accessed 10 June 2022. https://www.opendemocracy.net/en/can-­europe-­ make-­it/south-­tyrol-­is-­success-­story-­at-­difficult-­time-­for-­ma/. ———. 2019. Participatory consociationalism? No, but South Tyrol’s Autonomy Convention is evidence that power-sharing can transform conflicts. Nations and Nationalism 25 (3): 1018–1041. Leb’wohl du mein Südtirol. 1989. Directed by Karin Brandauer. Italy: RAI Radiotelevisione Italiana. Lepschy, A., G. Lepschy, and M. Voghera. 1996. Linguistic variety in Italy. In Italian regionalism: History, identity and politics, ed. C. Levy. Berg Publishers. Levy, C. 1996. Italian regionalism: History, identity and politics. Berg Publishers. Medda-Windischer, R. 2008. Protection of minorities under international law and the case of South Tyrol. In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights In South Tyrol, ed. J. Woelk, F. Palermo, and J. Marko. Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. Minority Rights Group International. 2022. South Tyrolese German-speakers [online]. Accessed 09 June 2022. https://minorityrights.org/minorities/ south-­tyrolese-­german-­speakers/.

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Obermair, H. 2016. Monument and city- a tormented relationship. Vienna and Bolzano: Folio. Pallaver, G. 2008. South Tyrol’s consociational democracy: Between political claim and social reality. In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol, ed. J.  Woelk, F.  Palermo, and J.  Marko. Leiden and Boston: Matinus Nighoff Publishers. Ch.17. ———. 2014. South Tyrol’s changing political system: From dissociative on the road to associate conflict resolution. The Journal of Nationalism and Ethnicity 42 (3): 376–398. ———. 2017. South Tyrol: Terrorism and its reconciliation. Negotiations, consociational democracy, and power-sharing. In Dialogue against violence: The question of Trentino-South Tyrol in the International context, ed. G. Bernardini and G. Pallaver. Il Mulino and Duncker & Humblot: Bologna and Berlin. Pergher, R. 2017. Mussolini’s nation-empire: Sovereignty and settlement in Italy’s Borderlands, 1922–1943. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Peterlini, O. 2009. The South Tyrol autonomy in Italy: Historical, political and legal aspects. In One country, two systems, three legal orders- perspectives of evolution: Essays on Macau’s autonomy after the resumption of sovereignty by China, ed. J. Oliveira and P. Cardinal. Berlin and Heidelberg: Springer. ———. 2012. Imparare dalla storia per costruire la pace. In Accadde al confine: storie di Giovanni Postal e Udo Grobar, ed. G.  Scagnetti. Ilmiolibro self publishing. Peterlini, H. 2013. Noi figli dell’autonomia: Alto Adige/Südtirol oltre il disorientamento etnico. Meran/Merano: Edizioni alphabeta Verlag. Romeo, C. 2005. Storia, territorio, società: Alto Adige/Südtirol percorsi di storia contemporanea. Vienna and Bolzano: Folio Editore. Ruzza, C. 2000. Language and nationalism in Italy: Language as a weak marker of identity. In Language and nationalism in Europe, ed. S.  Barbour and C. Carmichael. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Scarano, F. 2017. The ‘Commission of 19’. Origins and significance. In Dialogue against violence: The question of Trentino-South Tyrol in the international context, ed. G. Bernardini and G. Pallaver. Bologna and Berlin: Il Mulino and Duncker & Humblot. Schmidtke, O. 1996. Politics of identity: Ethnicity, territories, and the political opportunity structure in modern Italian Society. Sinzheim: Pro Universitate Verl. Steininger, R. 2003. South Tyrol: A minority conflict in the twentieth century. New Jersey: Transaction Publishers.

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Treffers-Daller, J. 2002. Language use and language contact in Brussels. In Language contact at the Romance-Germanic language border, ed. J.  Treffers-­ Daller and R. Willemyns. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters, Ltd. Visser, M.M. 2017. German: The German language in education in South Tyrol (Italy). 2nd ed. Fryslân: Mercator European Research Centre on Multilingualism and Language Learning. Wand, A. 2016. ‘Separate but equal’, segregated or stymied? Second language learning issues in South Tyrol. Journal of the Anthropological Society of Oxford 3 (3): 330–347. Wisthaler, V. 2015. South Tyrol: The importance of boundaries for immigrant integration. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 42 (8): 1271–1289. Woelk, J., F.  Palermo, and J.  Marko, eds. 2008. Tolerance through law: Self Governance and group rights in South Tyrol. Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers.

4 Heimat, Disagio, and South Tyrolean Identity

Why do we learn a second language? And what compels or deters us from eventually progressing in another language? In early February 2013, I was invited to speak at a Friday seminar hosted by the Linguistics department at the University of Umeå in northern Sweden to discuss my doctoral fieldwork. Having conducted this presentation previously with a group of high school and postgraduate students, I asked the lecturers and assistant readers to quietly prepare two lists: one list was required to state which languages they had an interest in and the other needed to describe which languages they tended to dislike and why. After a few minutes I had several members from the group read off their language lists and similar to my audiences in the past, their responses were the same. Some liked certain languages largely because they liked how they sounded and more particularly they evoked a kind of emotion that associated it with a specific culture. Other times some languages brought to mind a negative association, which inevitably prevented the listener from wanting to invest in the other language. In my case I explained that when I was in high school, I had opted to study French largely because I had an aversion towards the Spanish language. The reality was that it was not so much the language that I disliked but the Hispanic construction workers who worked in my hometown who had a socially assumed reputation of wolf-­ whistling at teenage girls. It was only when I became an English language teacher in southern California and was required to work with Hispanic © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 A. Wand, Segregation in Language Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-32747-6_4

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children to teach them the English alphabet that I realised my misgivings towards learning Spanish had been based on racial stereotypes that did not adequately describe a culture and all the members who lived within it. In his article On bilingualism and its discontents Pérez-Firmat eloquently states that: [l]anguages not only inspire loyalty; they also provoke fear, resentment, rage, jealousy, love, euphoria- the entire gamut of human emotion. From the undergraduate whose difficulties with the subjunctive make him complain that he “hates Spanish”, to the exile who clasps her mother tongue in a tight embrace, tongue ties are every bit as knotty as our other affections. And not only because of the role of language in shaping our conscious identity, but also because languages serve to act out and work through conflicts whose origins lie elsewhere, in groups and individuals who not only speak a given language but…for whom that language speaks. (2005: 91)

From that passage we can insinuate that second language learning requires an opening up of oneself to another culture and subsequently towards other people. As an example, Pérez-Firmat refers to the Spanish poet, Pedro Salinas, in a letter Salinas wrote to his American muse, Katherine Whitmore: ‘“If I like English, if I read English, it is only by its similarity with you. I read English as I would look at a picture of you.” Falling in love with an American is falling in love with the English language’ (ibid.). From these words we learn that our perceptions towards speakers of another language can influence whether we learn that language, and more importantly determine the extent of our relations if we allow ourselves to speak in the language of another. In a more extreme example in the region of Alsace on the border between France and Germany, Bister-Broosen reveals that for years the region fluctuated between Alsatians being required to speak in German or French. It was only in 1940 when Alsace was occupied by Nazi forces that German became the ‘“language of the adversary”’, who like the Fascists in South Tyrol, only permitted their forces’ language to be used in the school system and official domains. High German, it was felt, was ‘the language of the Nazis, of occupation, of collaboration even…’ As a

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result, ‘According to Stephens (1978: 351) Nazism probably “did more for the French cause in Alsace than all the French patriots in Paris up to 1939’ (Bister-Broosen 2002: 100). When trying to make sense of a major border region that has been steeped in historical divisions, there are many avenues that one can take to understand its people from a variety of literature and resources.1 In the case of South Tyrol with its linguistic demarcations as evidenced in schools and its topography, comprehending group identity in relation to another is one way to grasp dynamic group relations. Understanding local concepts of South Tyrolean identity can also help explain why a multilingual province has many monolingual speakers depending on their association with the Italian state. While the South Tyrolean concepts of ‘place’ (or the lack thereof ) through Heimat and disagio play a possible subconscious (or conscious) contribution towards one’s relationship with language, second language acquisition (SLA) literature can also fill the gaps towards understanding why German- and Italian-speakers are still linguistically (and socially) divided. Therefore, this chapter is designed to merge existing literature in anthropology with second language acquisition research to demonstrate how each discipline can investigate the same concerns towards understanding group relations and its effects on second language learning.

 art I: Cultural ‘Distance’ and the Role P of Motivation When I originally started working at an Italian-speaking high school I was informed that I had the ‘good class’. I was told that I had a huge advantage not only because I was teaching English rather than German, but also because I was an American who had lived somewhere near London, so my image brought with it a certain glamour. As I started my class lessons, I never had a problem in motivating my students to learn English. The students wanted to learn more about New York and ‘LA’ and were fascinated, albeit disturbed, by gangster culture. But for my German-speaking colleagues, who also taught the English language, they

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said that teaching German was a problem. As one co-worker explained, ‘You can have one group of Italian students and teach them English and they’ll be fine. If you take those same group of students and try to teach them German, the class will turn into a bunch of monkeys!’ In my early days of fieldwork, I quickly started to realise that group perceptions of a culture are connected with language. Since my Italian-­ speaking students thought that Americans were rather ‘cool’, learning English was considered a global trend in which the students were willing to invest their precious time if they thought that it would give them some advantage. Learning German, on the contrary, did not have the same appeal, and yet it was the language spoken by their neighbours. More importantly, to work in the civil (public) service Italian- and German-­ speaking students needed to have a bilingual comprehension of both German and Italian (see Larin and Röggla 2019: 1024; and Pallaver 2017: 235 for more information). Unfortunately, this was not enough to persuade students into adequately learning the official second language, which led me to conclude that motivation is a key element in encouraging second language learning. There also needs to be an interest in the other culture to create a positive learning environment. Negative perceptions of another language group (due to history and/or local politics) can prevent students from becoming more proficient in a second language, impacting their chances of becoming bilingual. When examining the mass of SLA literature, one finds various techniques and approaches on how to learn a second language in a foreign context (see Pujadas and Muñoz 2020; Montero Perez 2020), such as through Content and Language Integrated Learning (CLIL) and the communicative approach (see de Dios Martínez Agudo 2020; Akanbi and Ndidi 2020; Peng and Xiong 2020). There is also recent anthropological work by Ardener et al. (2020) on the role of gender (and ethnic identity) on bilingual language usage. But my objective in this section is to discuss the reasons why German- and Italian-speaking students may have trouble learning the language of their neighbour and how those difficulties relate to second language learning issues, which affect local relations in the region. While many researchers focus on the role of aptitude, working memory, and emotional intelligence (see Huang et  al. 2020; Mavrou 2020) and the impact of these characteristics on second language

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learning and writing, I concentrate on two components that I believe are most relevant to my research in South Tyrol: the role of motivation and cultural ‘distance’, and how these both effect second language acquisition.

Understanding Cultural ‘Distance’ Austrian educator Dietmar Larcher said that ‘“nothing is more difficult than to learn the language of a neighbour”’ (Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 81), for by learning another language one essentially is opening oneself up to another culture (Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 74; see Wand 2016). When examining the role of ethnic identity in second language acquisition, Ellis explains that according to Gudykunst and Ting-­ Toomey ‘“ethnicity is a slippery concept”’ (cited in Ellis 1994: 207) but that ‘both self- and other categorizations of ethnic identity may influence the way language is used in inter-ethnic communications’ (Ellis 1994: 207). Furthermore, there is a ‘general consensus that ethnic identity can exert a profound influence on [second language] learning’ (ibid.). While this chapter concentrates more on the role of national identity in second language acquisition, the attitudes that learners have towards another language group may be a reflection of their own sense of identity and how they feel about the target-language culture in response to identity reflections of oneself. Monolingualism, for example, which is defined by Ellis as a failure to learn a second language, ‘is associated with a strong ethnic identity and negative attitudes towards the target-language culture’ (Ellis 1994: 208). Therefore, when studying the effects of ethnic identity on second language learning, this can take three forms: the normative, the socio-­ psychological, and the socio-structural. For this section, I chose to concentrate on what Ellis refers to as the ‘normative view’. This concept focuses on the ‘relationship between ethnic identity and [second language] learning…[and] to what extent membership of a particular ethnic group affects [second language learning] achievement’ (Ellis 1994: 207). He explains that a ‘key concept’ of this view centres on the role of ‘“distance” between the cultures of the native and target languages’ in determining one’s language learning levels. The more removed cultures are in

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terms of group distinctions, the more of a challenge second language learning can become (ibid.). While Gass and Selinker state that ‘It is more accurate to consider distance and other variables…as providing an impetus for learning…but not as causing learning’ (2013: 465) this does not insinuate that opinions towards an ethnic group does not impact second language learning. When reflecting on this concept of cultural ‘distance’ during my doctoral fieldwork, I could not help but notice the distinctions between German- and Italian-speakers in that, aside from their languages, the two groups varied in terms of how they expressed their cultures. Even when it came to advertising in South Tyrol it was clear that adverts had a target audience. A poster advertising Birkenstocks would show a model wearing outdoor sandals in bright, white socks, a fashion statement that by Italian standards would be appalling but was not as the advert was in German. Transportation also had a distinct cultural divide in terms of how trains were presented in public. When standing on the platform of Bozen-­ Bolzano’s central train station, and talking with a Tibetan monk, I jokingly observed that one could always tell the difference between a South Tyrolean German and Italian train. The South Tyrolean German trains were pristine, not only inside but out, while the Italian trains looked like they had not been cleaned in years. Whilst admittedly these stereotypes were sometimes made in jest, in reality the distinctions were quite clear. Whether at a festival where German-speakers were dressed up in lederhosen or in fancy dirndls, or during the Christmas markets when the stalls were advertising wooden Krampus masks alongside miniature versions of La Befana,2 there were moments when the cultures diverged within the same environment showing both sides of South Tyrol’s divide. As a result, this made me wonder whether ‘distance’ hinders German- and Italian-­ speakers from immersing themselves in each other’s language, despite societal attempts to unite both language groups under the umbrella of South Tyrolean identity.

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Motivation Motivation is another factor, which can contribute to second language learning outcomes. A socio-psychological factor, it is ‘frequently used to account for differential success in learning [a second language]’ (Gass and Selinker 2013: 452). However, despite ‘numerous studies’ which indicate ‘motivation [as] a predictor of language-learning success…the exact nature of motivation is not so clear’ (Gass and Selinker 2013: 452–453) within the context of second language learning. Although Gass and Selinker explain that motivation is believed to have ‘something to do with drive’ (2013: 453) they cite Gardner when he states that motivation has four components with regards to second language learning. In his words, motivation involves having a specific goal, as well as an ‘“effortful behaviour”’, and ‘“a desire to attain the goal and favourable attitudes toward the activity in question”’ (Gardner 1985: 50 cited in Gass and Selinker 2013: 453; see Vettori Ebner 2016: 30 for more information). In addition, further research on motivation indicates that it can be condensed into two factors: [L]earners’ communicative needs and…their attitudes towards the second language community. If learners need to speak the second language in a wide range of social situations or to fulfil professional ambitions, they will perceive the communicative value of the second language and are therefore likely to be motivated to acquire proficiency in it. Similarly, if learners have favourable attitudes towards the speakers of the language, they will desire more contact with them. (Lightbrown and Spada 2013: 87)

According to Vettori Ebner in her 2016 article The long way to bilingualism: the peculiar case of multilingual South Tyrol, ‘contact [is] a fundamental factor in promoting positive attitudes between groups’ (2016: 29). Moreover, ‘[t]he simple fact of having a friend from the other language group is sufficient to produce a more positive attitude’ (ibid.) towards the community in question in order to improve the prospects for better language learning. This suggests that ‘extended intergroup contact’ with ‘friends and/or family members’ of other language groups may be

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what is needed for better motivation to encourage second language acquisition (see ibid.). While motivation involves ‘interests in the moment, curiosities…and personal satisfaction’ (see Richard-Amato 2003: 115) there are two distinctive types of motivation in SLA literature: integrative and instrumental. Integrative motivation, defined by Gardner and Lambert, is a ‘desire to integrate and identify with the target language group’ (Richard-Amato 2003: 115) ‘for personal growth and cultural enrichment’ (Lightbrown and Spada 2013: 87) as part of the language learning process. Instrumental motivation is an external pressure to learn a language for immediate employment-related reasons (see Richard-Amato 2003: 115; see Lightbrown and Spada 2013: 87) and/or because an individual is required to learn the language for social and professional ambitions (see Richard-­ Amato 2003: 115). While Richard-Amato is aware that these distinctions are not mutually exclusive or indeed isolated (see 2003: 115), ‘[f ]or a long time’ integrative motivation was thought to have a stronger impact on second language learning than instrumental motivation (Lightbrown and Spada 2013: 87). In fact, as recently as 2017, ‘integrative [second language] acquisition’ was still ‘believed to produce higher [second language] skills in individuals…’ (Angerer 2017: 363) according to a study on South Tyrolean students by Eurac Research. The researchers discovered ‘that [second language] proficiency correlates positively…with integrative orientation but not with instrumental orientation’ (Vettori Ebner 2016: 30) despite the ‘pragmatic reasons’ why South Tyrolean students may want to learn the official second language (see ibid.). Instead, it was found that instrumental motivation did not ‘effectively help in achieving good [second language learning] results’ (see ibid.). Consequently, it was felt that: this generalized focus on the practical benefits of mastering the [second language] pushes the integrative motives into the background, undermining and even neglecting the social dimension of learning a second language…. (Vettori Ebner 2016: 30)

‘What tends to be forgotten’, explains Barbara Angerer, in her research on South Tyrol, is that ‘the public debate on bilingualism’ and the

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promotion of bilingual education does not mean the endangerment of using one’s mother tongue (2017: 375). Nevertheless, in South Tyrolean education there is a concern that bilingual education may result in preventing students from being instructed in their own language. This is particularly true for the South Tyrolean debate on [second language] teaching at schools…[where e]thnic separation between members of the Italian and German group is thus institutionalized in education and persists in social, cultural and political life. This certainly is one of the main reasons for the low levels of integrative bilingualism in both language groups. (ibid.)

One’s personal identity also plays a factor in second language acquisition in that: an individual’s identity is closely linked with the way he or she speaks…when speaking a new language one is adopting some of the identity markers of another cultural group. Depending on the learner’s attitudes, learning a second language can be a source of enrichment or a source of resentment. If the speaker’s only reason for learning the second language is external pressure, internal motivation may be minimal and general attitudes towards learning may be negative. (Lightbrown and Spada 1999: 56)

In addition, power relations between two ethnic groups can also have an effect on motivation when it comes to language learning as social dynamics play a part in second language acquisition. According to Lightbrown and Spada, ‘members of a minority group learning the language of a majority group may have different attitudes and motivation from those of majority group members learning a minority language…’ (2013: 89). Moreover, ‘[c]hildren as well as adults are sensitive to social dynamics and power relationships’ (ibid.) which inadvertently could impact second language learning outcomes depending on the political environment. Even if a language learner does not have certain opinions towards the target language community, negative impressions of the second language can prevent fruitful second language acquisition. In the case of Finnish

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university students who were required to study Swedish as part of their coursework, the Faculty of Information Technology had students who displayed adverse opinions towards Swedish. Compared to other faculties where Finnish-speaking students were more inclined to have positive opinions of the Swedish language, low proficiency in Swedish was linked to low motivation and resisting attitudes towards the second language (Palviainen 2010: 14). While in hindsight, these results might seem quite obvious to readers, it should be noted that alongside motivation there are many external and internal factors that impede or promote second language acquisition. Some factors are specific to South Tyrol and provide a sense of localised identity, but also show that language learning can be tied to sense of ‘place’3 through German Heimat and Italian disagio.

 art II: The Role of ‘Place’ Through Heimat P and Disagio When I began my doctoral research, I set out to concentrate on Italian-­ speakers’ identity and how their sense of ‘place’ was largely reinforced when living in a predominately German-speaking environment. But after the first two weeks of fieldwork, I became consciously aware that Italian-­ speakers are not ‘lost’, despite one South Tyrolean source indicating the contrary by referring to Italian-speakers as spaesati (i.e., feeling like a fish out of water) (see Giudiceandrea 2015: 128). Nevertheless, research showed that there were Italian-speakers who felt that they were somewhat disadvantaged when compared to German-speakers, whom they thought received minority protection from the European Union and the Italian government. Additionally, there were tales of this German-speaking Heimat, which in English I have translated as ‘homeland’, where German-­ speakers were thought to have a stronger attachment to South Tyrol than Italian-speakers. Either way, there was a sense of local identity that for some members was attached to the land, which made me wonder whether attachment to ‘place’ played a part in second language learning in the province. Just as

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the German-speakers are more inclined to be located in the rural valleys, away from Italian-speaking cities (see Alber 2021), one’s location in a remote or urban setting can impact the frequent usage of speaking another language. Therefore, I opted to reflect on this identity marker within the framework of second language learning and to discuss how the German sense of Heimat may discourage German-speakers from using their Italian.

Heimat According to Giudiceandrea, Heimat refers to the place where one is born and where one feels at home. It is a ‘sentiment of belonging and of territorial identification without political contamination’ (2015: 138). While German-speakers may consider South Tyrol as their Heimat, or the location where they are born, Austria is said to be the German-speakers’ Vaterland (fatherland) even if South Tyrol was not a part of Italy (ibid.). This ‘motherland’ versus ‘fatherland’ distinction reinforces the strong attachment to the land of South Tyrol as the pervading motherland in a region that was once a part of the fatherland of Austria. This ‘kinship term’ of ‘motherland’ is ‘frequently used in nationalist discourse…postulated by nationalists’ to create a sense of nationalism, or what Eriksen calls a ‘metaphoric kindship’ (2010: 130). Due to the changing of territorial borders and ‘being part of a nation that is not perceived as their own’ the German-speaking use of Heimat has become ‘politically loaded’ (Giudiceandrea 2015: 138) as a result of historical tensions in the region. Therefore, Heimat in South Tyrol represents a ‘precious love’ reminding German-speakers to protect their province (see ibid.), ‘against the globalized and secularized “outside world”’ (see Fait 2011: 231 for more information) which threatens the ideals of the German-speaking psyche. While realistically not all German-speakers subscribe to these ‘ideals’ when it comes to their identity, ‘the South Tyrolean “patriotic association” known as the Schützen’ (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1027), or ‘Shooters’, are the most extreme defenders of Heimat4 against the Italian

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state (Giudiceandrea 2015: 141). For those German-speakers who are not members of this former military unit: …for many Heimat is also synonymous with a nest, that is with security, peace, routine but above all with familiarity. Familiarity with the language, with the usage, with the character of the people and last but not least with the nature of a certain territory. But in a general consensus it often hides a sense of defence, or even of aggression towards all that is new, foreign, and also a sense of fear and powerlessness for the avalanche of news and information on the always more incompressible problems of this world. It happens therefore more than ever [this need to] consolidate this familiarity, drinking together and laughing at all that is different. (Zoderer 1999: 52–53)

Just like nationalism, it ‘offers security and perceived stability at a time when life-worlds are fragmented and people are being uprooted’ (Eriksen 2010: 126). Therefore ‘nationalist ideology’, or in this case one’s Heimat, is designed to ‘re-create a sentiment of wholeness and continuity with the past, to transcend that alienation or rupture between individual and society that modernity has brought about’ (ibid.). Yet even as this sense of Heimat is traditionally seen as a term that is specifically for German-speakers, mountain identity in Italy also has a reserved nature towards outsiders who are perceived differently than them. During my first week of fieldwork, I debated whether to conduct my research in a multitude of places with my home base in Bozen-­ Bolzano while I did daily excursions to villages located within an hour of the city. When I mentioned to my landlord that I wanted to conduct fieldwork in a variety of villages, he boasted of his home town and wanted to invite me there but said I could not go alone without a local. For this reason, I took him with me to his family’s village located in Val di Non in the Trentino province. At our arrival he introduced me to his cousin who ran the family shop, which was situated in the village centre and then took me to meet extended family who offered me coffee and several treats. When I returned to the village one week later, I visited his family shop to see his cousin. I asked if I could use their restroom in their family home, which was attached to the back of the store. Without the presence of my landlord to vouch for me and confirm that I was a ‘safe person’, I was

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given the cold shoulder and told to use the village ‘outhouse’ and was essentially escorted from the premises. Although not all the villages were as closed off as this, especially in tourist-friendly parts of South Tyrol and the Trentino province, ‘It is only fair to say that the alpine region has never been welcoming to foreigners, newcomers and underrepresented minorities’ (Fait 2011: 232). As a result, I opted to stay in Bozen-Bolzano and conduct the bulk of my research there lest I run the risk of overstaying my welcome in a remote community. More than that, I learned that there was a desire for group preservation and that for some people this was of great importance. If one looked overtly ‘foreign’, whether in language or in appearance, this could result in a frosty welcome from members of a small community. Moreover, there was a need by some members of the German-speaking community to protect their own rural identity. As Fait explains: …the implicit assumption is common that the authentic South Tyrol is rural and that genuine [German-speaking] South Tyroleans are healthy and sturdy mountain farmers. Those who have to leave the countryside for urban settings are presumed to be eager to reconnect with their rural roots, whenever possible. This belief recreates and commercializes a mystique of the natural and redeeming authenticity and purity of the Alps as a getaway from the pressure of urban daily life and from the corrupting influence of modernity, especially Italian modernity. The Alps are then viewed as an ideal space of subversive nostalgia for those longing for a more genuine identity. It is through this psychological transference that environmental conservation…and “homeland protection”…become closely intertwined in the [German-speaking] South Tyrolean self-narrative. (2011: 230)

In light of this it must be asked how countryside identity can relate to second language acquisition since within South Tyrol some German-­ speakers only use Italian when they have to. For those German-speaking farmers who are required to travel to Bozen-Bolzano for tax reasons or to sell produce, some will learn enough Italian (or use a translator) to handle their affairs before returning to their remote part of the province. In some instances, these German-speakers will only use Italian once or twice throughout the course of a year, similar to Transylvanian Hungarians

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who will only use Romanian in official circumstances or if the other speaker is Romanian (see Kiss 2009). Subsequently this leaves room for speculation that not all German-­ speakers feel compelled to learn Italian if they are located in a village that historically is devoid of Italian-speakers. Consequently, Fait believes that this ‘“geography of avoidance”’ perpetuates a cycle of division, which is ‘economically unfeasible and politically unwise…in times of mass immigration’ (2011: 224).

Disagio Just as the German-speaking notion of Heimat may influence whether German-speakers choose to use Italian, the Italian concept of disagio (i.e., discomfort) may provide an understanding towards why Italian-speakers may not use their German. When I met with an Italian-speaking professor from Rome who transferred to the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano, we discussed the concept of disagio and whether all Italian-speakers felt displaced in the Province of Bolzano. From her experience as an outsider, she felt that South Tyrolean Italian-speakers had a flawed identity in that they ‘just kind of exist’ as foreigners in their own land and that as people they do not really belong. Additionally, she thought that some Italian-­ speakers did not realise that they are socially displaced because they are accustomed to living amongst German-speakers and raising children in a predominately German-speaking province. Conversely, Kager states that Italian-speakers are no longer in a position to be viewed as the ‘invaders’. Having lived in South Tyrol since at least the 1930s, the region has become part of their homeland. As ‘[t]heir offspring were born there’ and have attended local schools, over time Italian-speakers have evolved from outsiders into Italian-speaking South Tyrolean citizens (see Kager 1998) who are proud to be a part of their own region. That said, not all Italian-speakers are content with their social status, especially when compared to German-speakers who received more privileges after the passing of the Second Autonomy Statute. According to Giovanetti, Italian-speakers are part of ‘a community that is

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discriminatively perceived, misunderstood [and] disadvantaged. Without a ruling class’ (1998: 893). At the printing of his article, he felt that the Italian-speakers were ‘…in a state of mind that is usually called the “Italian disagio”’5 (i.e., Italian discomfort) (ibid.). According to Abel et al. in their 2012 study on Gli studenti altoatesini e la seconda lingua: indagine linguistica e psicosociale (The South Tyrolean students and the second language: linguistic and psycho-social surveys), disagio ‘is described as a sense of [being] disadvantaged and discrimination’ (2012: 267) when compared to the German-speaking group. In social psychology it is also defined ‘as a sentiment of relative deprivation’ (ibid.). ‘In the 1950s the sense of discrimination and the preoccupation with assimilation [derived] from the German-speaking group’ which ‘in the 1990s’ was eventually passed on ‘to the Italian-speaking group’ (Giovanetti 1998: 893). As a result, Giudiceandrea is of the opinion that the Italian-speakers are ‘lost’. In his words: Our families left their regions of origin, but it is as if they had never arrived here. We are strangers in (and [to) the] land in which we live, as much as the German-speakers feel like they belong to it. In this sense our “discomfort” is the exact opposite sentiment to that which ties the German-speakers to their homeland. (2015: 128)

Giovanetti goes onto explain that ‘[fr]om the 1980s on…the Italian[speaking] South Tyrolean community ended up finding themselves at the margins of politics and culture, with a pained sense of abandonment on the part of the State and the Region’ (1998: 893). Consequently, Italian-­ speakers were ‘completely unprepared to face the context of the new Statute of autonomy’ (Giovanetti 1998: 894). While initially they ‘felt protected by the State’ viewing themselves as Italian ‘public servants…[w]hen the State became less, [Italian-speakers] felt betrayed [and] orphaned]’ (ibid.) by the Italian government. Although at first, ‘[Italian-speakers] transferred to South Tyrol “because they needed to reinforce Italian identity”’ this resulted in a community that did not ‘set up roots’ or integrate themselves within the local culture (ibid.). Subsequently, this has led to ‘an intersection at which the so-called disagio…is felt by many monolingual Italian-speakers who find themselves

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like rats in a trap. The cheese was there to entice, but not meant to be eaten’ (Colonnelli 2017). ‘They were the flagship of Italy’ and ‘had the State on their shoulders’ and were given ‘a very specific task’ which meant they never tried to learn the German language, the local history, or about South Tyrolean land (Giovanetti 1998: 894). ‘Many [Italian-speakers] remained in [Bozen-]Bolzano [for] 30 to 40 years [living as immigrants]’ always thinking they would live in South Tyrol ‘“for 20–30 years”’ and eventually return home (ibid.). In terms of language acquisition, this meant that many Italian-speakers maintained a superior attitude which said, ‘I am in Italy and therefore I [will only] speak [in] Italian’ (ibid.). These comments by Giovanetti were similar to comments made from some of my Italian-speaking students who explained of hesitations to learn the German language as a result of the history of the region. Not only older generations, but also younger generations still maintained linguistic distance from each other as expressed by Cassidy and Giovanni when describing their experiences growing up in South Tyrol. According to Giovanni: German-speakers in some cases do not want to study Italian because of the historical backlash associated with World War II, especially as a result of the impact of fascism to the region… Italian-speakers, on the other hand, do not want to study German for a variety of reasons. Sometimes these reasons are primarily personal in that some Italian-speakers view German-­ speakers as unfriendly…

This disinterest to learn the other official language seems to stem from both language groups, particularly amongst the older generations where ‘the animosity is stronger’ (see Magliana 2000: 87). For some Italian-­ speakers, their ‘concerns…are not without foundation, mistrust and suspicion between the language groups [which] is still very present’ and ‘is directed more towards the Italian[-speaking] group’ (Magliana 2000: 81). The German-speakers, on the other hand, are ‘perceived as being…very jealous of their traditions…and uninterested in improving the [possibility for] integration between the two cultures’ (ibid.). This matches findings by Abel et al. who stated that 72 percent of Italian-speaking students were of the opinion that the German-speaking community was more

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concerned with protecting their own rights and interests without considering the consequences this may have on the Italian-speaking community (2012: 267). Therefore, amongst the younger generations within the Italian-­ speaking group: …the social discontent manifests itself in several manners: above all, and particularly in the young population, there is resistance to learning and especially to speaking German. This is coupled with defensiveness regarding the past [with] many Italian[-speakers] [believing] that animosity towards them is still strongly felt, and it is not going away. (Magliana 2000: 81)

From a societal perspective, Cassidy described how these group tensions were evident in the night life in that ‘on Saturdays [in Bozen-­ Bolzano] you cannot go out with German- and Italian-speakers because they do different things. They go to different pubs and dance clubs [and] it divides our city.’ As a bilingual-speaker of both German and Italian she sometimes felt in limbo between two diverse communities who were unwilling to speak each other’s languages. ‘If you are out with Italian-­ speakers and you speak German everybody looks at you and starts to question why you are speaking German and not Italian…sometimes this leaves me wondering why I have to choose’ as she was proud to be multilingual. When looking at disagio, Cassidy believed that at least from the Italian-­ speaking perspective, students will say ‘we are in Italy so the German-­ speakers should learn Italian’. Similar to statements made by Giovanetti (1998), there is a sense of a reinforced identity in that regardless of whether Italian-speakers are attached to South Tyrol, there is a stubbornness which prevents some Italian-speakers from wanting to learn German. In an article by Massimiliano Boschi, he admits that ‘too many Italian-­ speakers still do not see bilingualism as an opportunity and…too many times I have to hear the sentence: we are in Italy, [we need] to speak Italian’ (2019). Unfortunately for Italian-speakers this insistence on not wanting to learn German can make life difficult for them as the ‘…German[speaking] majority [is] almost everywhere in South Tyrol…’ (Magliana 2000: 80). With ‘feelings of marginalization…common among’

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Italian-speakers ‘in the suburbs and in [the] mountain villages’ (ibid.), this does not explain why many Italian-speakers are resistant to learning the other official language. Either way, Magliana is correct when she states that ‘while the German-speaker may feel at home everywhere, the Italian[-speaker] has an entirely different experience in South Tyrol’ in that ‘unless [they speak] German, [they] will have difficulty communicating outside the major cities and tourist areas’ (2000: 80). As a result, Italian-speakers are a ‘minority’ within the Italian State when living in the Province of Bolzano, which is ‘difficult to accept’ and ‘has become a source of tension between the two [major] language groups’ (Magliana 2000: 81).

Part III: South Tyrolean Identity In July 2011, after two months in South Tyrol, I enrolled in Italian evening classes. As it was apparent that my knowledge of Italian had suffered after several years of disuse, I attended beginner classes to refresh my language skills, and that is when I met Nathalie. A German-speaker, she came from the near-by mountain community of Ritten-Renon, a German-speaking village located outside of Bozen-Bolzano. She had decided to improve her comprehension of Italian since she had several Italian-speaking clients. After class one day I asked her if she identified as Italian despite being a South Tyrolean German-speaker. ‘Of course!’, she replied: I am a German-speaking Italian citizen who comes from South Tyrol. I am Italian but my mother tongue is German.

Her personal perceptions of her own identity reflected observations by the BBC when during an interview a German-speaker explained that his people were, ‘“…South Tyrolean with German as [their] mother tongueand Italian citizens”’ (Bell 2017). While from these statements one could assume that all German-­ speakers see themselves as Italian citizens, identity is not so rigid, nor as

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defined in South Tyrol as some German-speakers are more attached to the province (see Heimat). In March 2010, during my preliminary fieldwork, I met with a German-speaking political journalist and editor. He stated that if I wanted to be ‘politically correct’ (PC) when labelling German- and Italian-speakers, I should officially refer to them as German- or Italian-­ speaking South Tyroleans. However, these PC terms are a mouthful in themselves, which was why they call themselves ‘German’ or ‘Italian’. In some ways these group distinctions, whether intentional or not, ascribe one to the state (Italian) or to the province (German). One’s societal association to the land or the state even materialises when choosing a child’s name. I was told that if I had an Italian surname but wanted my child to attend German-speaking schools, it would be wise of me to give them a German-speaking first name so that on paper they did not look ‘too Italian’. Since German-speaking schools are historically protective towards preserving their culture and language, there is a tendency to not accept Italian-speaking students6 lest they impede the learning of the German language. Yet, despite language concerns, South Tyrolean identity has continued to evolve over the decades as German-speakers have become more distant from the Austrian Tyrol in favour of their Italian-speaking neighbours (Magliana 2000: 88, 90). Conversely, Italian-speakers find the German-­ speaking community to be more ‘likeable’ than their adjoining Trentino neighbours (Magliana 2000: 90) such that Italian-speakers who are ‘raised in South Tyrol are much more strongly integrated than those who moved there at a later stage’ (Pallaver 2014: 390). According to Pallaver when it comes to German- and Italian-speakers living in the same province: …popular attitudes on living together have indeed improved enormously. A 2004 study…showed that about 25% of South Tyroleans do not consider living together to be a problem anymore. This figure only amounted to about 8% in 1991. In 2004, 60% considered the problem to be much smaller than it used to be… All surveys on the question of living together overall indicate an increasingly positive trend…. (2014: 391)

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The result is one where ‘[i]t appears that a South Tyrolean identity is increasingly developing, which supports the image of South Tyrol’s status as an “island” between Austria and Italy’ (Magliana 2000: 90). That said, while ‘South Tyrol generally sees itself as a distinct entity’ it is ‘no longer…an area precariously perched between worlds, states and cultures, but as a region drawing strength from its political and geographical position and its cultural complexity’ (Grote and Obermair 2017: xix). This in turn creates an environment where ‘the languages and cultures have commingled, resulting in the unique South Tyrolean way of life’ (South Tyrol Information 2022). So how can one be ‘South Tyrolean’ yet remain distinctly ‘German’ or ‘Italian’? As I mention in Chap. 1, many Italian-speakers refer to themselves as ‘Alto Adigean’, the Italian variant of ‘South Tyrolean’, which is normally reserved primarily for German-speakers (see Larin and Röggla 2019). However, Magliana explains that: The evolution of this independent South Tyrolean identity can be explained in part through the multicultural and multilingual environment South Tyrol provides. In effect, the South Tyrolean identity is something that has grown as a result of the Italian take-over… It was the bilinguality and the multiculturalism that created the South Tyrolean identity, and these factors were results of the Italian presence. It is often said that South Tyroleans have the “German discipline” and the “Italian love of life;” the idea that the intermingling of the two cultures has contributed to the mutually beneficial development of each. It is for this reason that the inhabitants of South Tyrol of all language groups, have progressively differentiated themselves from both their Italian and Austrian neighbors. (2000: 90)

As a result, ‘Large parts of the elites from both language groups are proud to be South Tyrolean’ (see Pallaver 2014: 390). While Larin and Röggla insist that South Tyrolean identity is reserved for German-speakers (see 2019: 21), according to Magliana, ‘South Tyrolean identity is…evolving…to include the Italian[-speakers]’ resulting in a ‘regional-­nationalism, which can only promise to strengthen [South Tyrolean] identity…’ (Magliana 2000: 91). With South Tyrolean education linguistically divided between German- and Italian-speaking students, this questions

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the legitimacy behind segregation if the communities are merging with each other. To add fuel to the fire, South Tyrolean identity has not only become ‘mixed’, but at times is ‘national’ as both language groups share nationalistic tendencies. Just as the Italian-speakers are ‘Alto Adigean’ while German-speakers are ‘South Tyrolean’, these labels are merely two sides of the same coin representing South Tyrolean identity. Consequently: While the German and Italian influences may not always harmonize with each other…The “Regional State” South Tyrol has many of the hallmarks of historical nation-building, for example, the emergence of national literature and an accepted culture of writing history and commemorating crucial historical events central to the region’s development. (Grote and Obermair 2017: xv, xix)

Therefore, when it comes to second language acquisition, we should explore this ‘national identity’ and examine how it impacts group language preservation in a province known for its ethnic divisions.

Part IV: Ethnic Versus National Identity But before we examine this ‘national’ component to German- and Italian-­ speaking identity, it is important to discuss why both language groups are referred to as ethnic communities. Since a significant portion of literature on South Tyrol concentrates on local ethnic identity (see De Paoli 2017; Kager 1998; Langer 2005; Fait and Fattor 2010), ethnicity tends to dominate the South Tyrolean narrative when focusing on its three main language groups. However, De Paoli warns that within South Tyrol: …the construction of ethnic identity has led Italian and German speakers to perceive themselves as two separate and closed-off universes, “equal but divided”, thanks to a type of politics that has all too often aimed for segregation rather than pacific coexistence. (2017: 398)

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That said, it is still important to comprehend why language groups may identify as ethnic communities, especially in South Tyrol where German- and Italian-speakers are classified as separate ethnicities. When considering the works of Eriksen (2010) and Barbour (2000), they provide concise definitions of what it means to be an ethnic group within and across nation-states. According to Barbour ‘an ethnic group need not occupy a [specific] territory’ as ‘ethnic groups can be scattered across’ large areas of land and be ‘interspersed with other groups’ (2000: 6–7). However, in South Tyrol German- and Italian-speakers do, in fact, occupy the same province, and while dispersed between the cities and rural valleys in the region, both language groups are contained in the same area. Therefore, Barbour explains that ethnic groups also maintain ‘“common myths and historical memories”’ which ‘may be much more plausible; since ethnic groups’ tend to ‘be much smaller than modern nations’ (2000: 7). That said, ethnic groups can also vary in size as well as in their character and can be so large that they constitute the major population of a state (see Barbour 2000: 7–8). An ethnic group then becomes a national group when it has political support as a ‘nationalist ideology is an ethnic ideology which demands a state on behalf of the ethnic group’ (Eriksen 2010: 144). Examples of this occur in South Tyrolean history in terms of Nazi and Fascist relations. While both political parties acted on behalf of their own ethnic majority, the states they represented (and the lands they tried to possess) were largely fuelled by a nationalist agenda. Even at the more localised level, historically the SVP demonstrated quasi-nationalist objectives when involved in South Tyrolean policies. If we look at the name SVP, the Südtiroler Volkspartei, Eriksen explains that it ‘…is the Volk [i.e., people] imagined by nationalists [that] is a product of nationalist ideology… A nation exists from the moment a handful of influential people decide that it should be so, and it starts, in most cases, as an urban elite phenomenon’ (Eriksen 2010: 126) as was the case in South Tyrol. Although admittedly the SVP was trying to protect the ethnic Germanand Ladin-speaking communities from Italian assimilation, my objective is to demonstrate how each South Tyrolean language group also functions as a ‘national’ minority. When trying to distinguish what differentiates an ‘ethnic group’ from a ‘national group’ there tends to be a lot of

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overlap in definition when it comes to language preservation. ‘Words like “ethnic groups”, “ethnicity” and “ethnic conflict”… “nation” and “nationalism”’ have become inadvertently synonymous, ‘ambiguous and vague’ (Eriksen 2010: 1). While Barbour insists that ethnic groups ‘are usually much more focused linguistically and culturally… ethnic groups and nations often use distinct languages in a highly conscious and effective fashion as markers of their distinct identities’ (2000: 8–9). Consequently, ‘language means so much more than its primary function as a means of communication. It is one of the key components of national or ethnic identity’ (Deen and Romans 2018: 4). So why should we care about making these distinctions if ‘national’ and ‘ethnic’ identity can appear the same? For one, while I have stated that I am fantasticated by how the ‘nation’ plays a role in second language learning, more importantly I want to understand why South Tyrolean literature does not recognise South Tyrol’s ‘national’ identities. While relatively recent research on politics in South Tyrol refers to SNRPs (‘stateless and nationalist regionalist parties’) in representing South Tyrol’s ‘national minorities’ (see Wisthaler 2015: 1; see also Larin and Röggla 2019), these terms are largely hidden within the bigger picture of South Tyrol’s three recognised ethnicities (German-, Italian-, and Ladin-­ speakers). Although ‘many states contain populations that do not accept the national identity promulgated by the state…’ (Barbour 2000: 6), does this explain why the German-speaking group is referred to as a separate ethnicity? Rather than go down the extensive rabbit hole on the theme of collective ethnic identity7 (which would well exceed the limits of this book), I want to conclude this section with what Eriksen describes as the ‘conflict between ethnicity and nationalism’ (2010: 145): … “nationalism”, can be described as a conflict between a dominating and a dominated ethnic group within the framework of a modern nation-state. In such contexts, the nationalist ideology of the hegemonic group will be perceived as a particularist ideology rather than a universalist one, where the mechanisms of exclusion and ethnic discrimination are more obvious than the mechanisms of inclusion and formal justice…. (ibid.)

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‘This kind of duality, or ambiguity, is fundamental to nationalist ideology’ (ibid.), but that does not preclude the German-speakers from inherently developing their own kind of (regional) national identity. Even though as of the late 1990s, ‘Italian-speakers [were] more orientated’ towards embracing ‘a larger Italian national identity…[t]he German-­ speaking population [was partaking] in a spatial identity that [was] at once localised [and] strongly tied to the Tyrolean identity…between Italy and Austria…’ (Kaplan 1999: 52). Over time, in terms of second language learning, whether by chance or deliberate observation, German-­ speakers have found ways to incorporate the Italian nation-state into their daily vernacular. As I describe in Chap. 5 when I mention how Italian swear words have worked their way into German-speaking dialect, even if some German-speakers try to refrain from using Italian, ‘Italian has crept into [German-speaking] culture…speech and [even] their diet’ (Hofmann 1995 cited in Kaplan 1999: 53). As a result, German-speaking South Tyroleans are viewed by other German-speakers as ‘Italian’ while South Tyrolean Italian-speakers are referred to as ‘German’ by those Italians outside of South Tyrol.8 This means that while the German- and Italian-speakers have differing ‘ethnic’ and ‘national’ identities, if you strip away their labels both language groups are citizens of the Italian nation-state. Consequently, they are affected by the state education and are members of the Italian Republic, which qualifies them both as having Italian national identity, even if they diverge in terms of language. Therefore, I have decided to avoid ‘ethnic identity’ for the purposes of this book in order to shine a light on how identity is ‘shared’ through the lens of national identity. Although most researchers have chosen to refer to South Tyrol as a multi-­ ethnic, Italian provincial region (see Parkin 1999; Cole 2001; Cole and Wolf 1999), it is important to step back and understand whether these terms are more fluid than the literature suggests. As a result, I have opted to see how nationalism plays a part in second language acquisition, not only through symbolic power, but also through (state) education in reinforcing the Italian and German languages.

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National (State) Education and Symbolic Power In his 1983 book Nations and nationalism, ‘Gellner defines nationalism as being “about entry to, participation in, identification with, a literate high culture which is co-extensive with an entire political unit and its total population’ (1983: 95)’ where ‘the crucial factors [of ] the formation of nationalism are power, education and culture (1983: 94)’ (cited in Banks 1996: 126). This ‘modern phenomenon’ as a result of ‘industrialism’ can only be accomplished ‘when a high culture is established or reified…and when there is a…wide-ranging and stable education system’ which allows a nation’s members to gain ‘access to that high culture’ (ibid.). Within ‘[t]he nation-state’, it should be equipped with a ‘uniform education system’ where the national language can be ‘used in all official communications’ (Eriksen 2010: 131). While some nation-states may ‘deny linguistic minorities the right to use their vernacular for the sake of state control and social cohesion… [v]ernacularisation’ is ‘an important aspect of many nationalist movements, since a shared language’ issued by a national group ‘can be a powerful symbol of cultural unity as well as a convenient tool in the administration of a nation-state’ (Eriksen 2010: 124). In terms of language learning, the standardisation of language is part of national state education and can be used to establish a unified language in the schooling system to transmit the state language to the home by replacing minority languages. Since within nation-states, ‘public bi/multilingualism is, by its very nature, a grave threat to social and political stability’ (see May 2018) state education creates a unified identity, which functions as ‘a kind of spatial container’ to develop an imagined homogenous community (see Kamusella 2018). A good example can be made of French state education9 through their establishment of the Jules Ferry laws, developed in the late nineteenth century during the time of the French Third Republic (Stephens 1978). Eriksen explains that ‘Linguistic standardisation through the spread of the official French language has been an important aspect of [French nationalism] since the eighteenth century…’ (2010: 132). A unified

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national language became part of the criteria mandating a secular state education (Weber 1979; Llobera 1989: 251) to promote national unity on behalf of the French state through the means of national literacy. Therefore, ‘[n]otions of “standard”, “official” or “state languages” evolved [by the end of the eighteenth century] in close association with the importance of formal education’ to reinforce individual literacy (Brice Heath and Street 2008: 18). In order to create a ‘homogenised’ modern society, Gellner states that one must use literacy and education in pursuit of creating citizens as opposed to fragmented communities (see 1964 cited in Hutchinson and Smith 1994). ‘Mass education’ can become ‘instrumental in this homogenising process [b]y introducing national consciousness to every nook and cranny of the country…’ (Eriksen 2010: 125–126). If Gellner is correct in stating that ‘identification, loyalty and effective citizenship depends on literacy and education in the one favoured language’ (1964 cited in Hutchinson and Smith 1994: 60), then Mussolini’s enforcement of Italian through education was designed to create state patriotism as well as to expand the Fascist empire and assimilate the German-speaking population. When invading South Tyrol, the Fascist polity Italianised South Tyrolean education in order to impose the state language used by the government in their efforts to Italianise the province. Unfortunately for Mussolini, as mentioned in Chap. 3, his attempts to Italianise South Tyrol backfired when German-speakers managed to retain their language and cultural identity. Subsequently, the school system over time has developed into a three-part education system (for the German-, Italian- and Ladin-speakers) providing German-speakers with their own school system, which parallels Italian-speaking schools. That said, it is worth mentioning that while the Fascist government established Italian-speaking schools, their nationalist objectives tended to align with the German-speaking Nazis (i.e., National Socialists). As the Nazis re-­ established German-speaking education, which I discuss in the following chapter, it could be argued that segregation was an unintended by-­ product of two controversial nation-states (i.e., the Fascists and Nazis) who used the schooling system to safeguard their own identities, their cultures, and their languages. In South Tyrol, the schooling system became the means through which the Fascists could control the use of

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enforcing Italian, while for the Nazis, education was a way to re-­introduce the German language into South Tyrolean society. Either way, when South Tyrol was annexed to Italy at the beginning of the twentieth century, the reaction from German-speakers was one of group defiance, which strengthened their national identity. Rather than permit the German language to be abolished at the hands of Fascist forces, the German language still remained, albeit for some time underground, despite attempts to eradicate it completely. This need to hold onto one’s national language is a major component of identity in that ‘For most of us…the language that we speak is a fundamental’ factor ‘of our nationality, and hence of our sense of who we are’ (Pérez-Firmat 2005: 89). In addition, nationalism ‘is an ideology which proclaims that the Gemeinschaft [community] threatened by mass society can survive through a concern with roots and cultural continuity’ (Eriksen 2010: 129). However, the promotion of a national language can also have adverse consequences for its speakers in that the nationalist policies inflicted on a community by its leaders can discourage its members from the possibilities of language exploration worldwide. By making a community’s national language ‘inflexible’ to ensure that it is pure, the nation’s language is placed ‘in a museum’ prohibiting cross-cultural exchanges by erecting language ghettos, which isolate speakers from their next-door neighbours (De Mauro 1996: 94). In some respects, this could be said of the German-speaking group in that some members try to keep the groups divided, which goes some way to explaining why German-speaking schools have been opposed to enrolling non-German-speaking students. Consequently, while historically the Fascists were well known for attempting to remove the German language, the response from several German-­ speaking politicians has been to postpone teaching Italian so that it does not ‘contaminate’ their language. And so, I end this chapter with a final note on how language functions as symbolic power given that the schooling system is still linguistically divided to maintain some form of language preservation. Since nationalism has a way of using language as a defining marker for an ethnic group, ‘[t]ogether with anthems, flags and oath-swearing ceremonies…and historical myths to sustain national identity, languages’ become the means

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to ‘differentiate’ group speakers into ‘insiders from’ divergent ‘outsiders’ (Ruzza 2000: 168). It is languages which are ‘the most powerful symbols of national identity’ (ibid.), that are also used to objectify and represent a person’s power (see Bourdieu 1992). Since the Fascist schooling system established a format where Italian functioned as symbolic power, it is understandable why the three-part schooling system is now designed to prevent this from repeating. As Deen and Romans state ‘[t]he relative status of one language compared to another is closely linked to the relative status of a group, and can thus become what Horowitz…calls a “symbol of domination”’ (2018: 6). Hence, ‘Language has great symbolic power and thus is open to manipulation’ (Deen and Romans 2018: 5), which means in order to maintain ethnolinguistic preservation, German- and Italian-speaking schools are still linguistically divided. Therefore, in order to handle societal multilingualism in the complex region of South Tyrol, the first objective is to recognise that both language groups have a shared ‘national’ South Tyrolean identity. This means that both communities share aspects of each other’s cultures, which, at times, can include their language, which diffuses the necessity for both schooling systems to continue linguistic separation. By also recognising the theoretical underpinnings, which can impact language learning in the province, this can help both language groups to overcome their language barriers through an open psychological self-narrative. But with this, it also means that we need to analyse and deconstruct the current education system to understand the measures taken by German- and Italian-speaking schools in their attempts to avoid (or promote) bilingualism. Only then can we gain a better perspective on South Tyrol’s educational infrastructure so that we can dissect its macro- and micro-components effecting second language learning in the province.

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Notes 1. At the writing of this book, it was suggested that I consider anthropological debates on language education and second language acquisition research. Unfortunately, to date, there is no debate in the field of sociocultural anthropology which covers the various aspects of SLA research. While the linguistic and migratory components of South Tyrol’s history and education system could be beneficial to the fields of linguistic anthropology, migration studies, and sociolinguistics, a discussion of those fields is well beyond the scope of this book. 2. Krampus, whom I shall refer to as the Christmas devil, is normally found throughout German-speaking parts of Europe. He assists St Nicholas on the night of 5 December and ‘punishes’ the bad children, while St Nicholas gives treats to the good ones (see Ridenour 2016 for more information). La Befana, the Christmas witch, is found throughout Italy and is celebrated on 6 January. Like Krampus, she punishes the bad children with her broom and gives treats to the well-behaved children. 3. For a more in-depth discussion on the relevance of ‘place’ as it relates to identity, borders, belonging, etc. see The Routledge handbook of place (2020). 4. A further discussion on the role of Heimat as it relates to young German-­ speaking Schützen’s concepts of national identity can be found in Hans Karl Peterlini’s article ‘“Heimat”- Homeland between life world and defence psychosis’ (2010). 5. The italics are mine. 6. While I am aware that there is a growing number of Italian-speaking students attending German-speaking schools, historically the German-­ speaking school system has been more reserved towards accepting Italian-speaking students. 7. For a brief discussion on ‘“collective identity”’ in South Tyrol see the Alto Adige’s article, Le identità? Una trappola Siamo persone, non popolo (2018) 8. This is based on personal communication with South Tyrolean specialist, Dr John Cole in 2016, as well as with an anonymous interlocutor in 2020. 9. For more information on national identity and its role in French (and British) education see, The state, national identity and schools (2017).

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Magliana, M. 2000. The autonomous province of South Tyrol: A model of self-­ governance? Bozen/Bolzano: Europäische Akademie Bozen. Mavrou, I. 2020. Working memory, executive functions, and emotional intelligence in second language writing. Journal of Second Language Writing 50: 100758. May, S. 2018. Language rights and language repression. In The Oxford handbook of language policy and planning, ed. J.W.  Tollesfon and M.  Pérez-Milans. Oxford University Press. Montero Perez, M.  July 2020. Multimodal input in SLA research. Studies in Second Language Acquisition 20: 653–663. Pallaver, G. 2014. South Tyrol’s changing political system: From dissociative on the road to associate conflict resolution. The Journal of Nationalism and Ethnicity 42 (3): 376–398. ———. 2017. South Tyrol: Terrorism and its reconciliation. Negotiations, consociational democracy, and power-sharing. In Dialogue against violence: The question of Trentino-South Tyrol in the international context, ed. G. Bernardini and G. Pallaver. Il Mulino and Duncker & Humblot: Bologna and Berlin. Palviainen, A. 2010. The proficiency of Swedish of Finnish speaking university students: Status and directions for the future. Journal of Applied Language Studies 4 (1): 3–23. Parkin, R. 1999. Regional identities and alliances in an integrating Europe: A challenge to the nation state? In The School of Geography, University of Oxford, the ESRC ‘Transnational communities’ programme, Oxford, United Kingdom, February 2. Oxford: United Kingdom. Peng, Y., and T. Xiong. 2020. Reproducing or recreating pedagogies? The journey of three CSL teachers’ learning of the communicative approach. The Asia-pacific Education Researcher 30: 131–140. Pérez-Firmat, G. 2005. On bilingualism and its discontents. Daedalus 134 (3): 89–92. Peterlini, H.K. 2010. Heimat’- Homeland between life world and defence psychosis: Intercultural learning and unlearning in an ethnocentric culture: Long-term study on the identity formation of junior “Schützen” (shooters). Procedia- Social and Behavioral Sciences 5: 59–68. Pujadas, G., and C.  Muñoz. 2020. Examining adolescent EFL learners’ TV viewing comprehension through captions and subtitles. Studies in second language acquisition, Special issue ‘Language learning from multimodel input’. Richard-Amato, P. 2003. Making it happen: From interactive to participatory language teaching. Theory and practice. 3rd ed. White Plains: Pearson Education.

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Ridenour, A. 2016. The Krampus and the old, dark Christmas: Roots and rebirth of the folkloric Devil. Feral House. Ruzza, C. 2000. Language and nationalism in Italy: Language as a weak marker of identity. In Language and nationalism in Europe, ed. S.  Barbour and C. Carmichael. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ch. 8. South Tyrol Information. 2022. Languages in South Tyrol. [online]. Accessed 14 June 2022. https://www.suedtirol.info/en/this-­is-­south-­tyrol/people/languages Stephens, M. 1978. Linguistic minorities in western Europe. Llandysul: Gomer Press. Vettori Ebner, C. 2016. The long way to bilingualism: The peculiar case of multilingual South Tyrol. International Journal for 21st century education 3 (2): 25–33. Wand, A. 2016. ‘Separate but equal’, segregated or stymied? Second language learning issues in South Tyrol. Journal of the Anthropological Society of Oxford 3 (3): 330–347. Weber, E. 1979. Peasants into Frenchmen. London: Chatto & Windus. Wisthaler, V. 2015. South Tyrol: The importance of boundaries for immigrant integration. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 42 (8): 1–19. Zoderer, J. 1999. A proposito di ‘Heimat’. In La curiosità linguistica: contributi all’educazione bilingue, ed. B. Gramegna and R. Fronza. Bolzano: Frasnelli Keitsch Editrice.

Part II

5 Deconstructing the Germanand Italian-­Speaking Schooling Systems

Approximately a year and a half after I returned from fieldwork, I received an email from one of my former high school students, an Italian-speaker from Bozen-Bolzano with a natural penchant for languages. Considering she was at the top of my class when I taught advanced English, I was not surprised to discover that she had decided to apply to Oxford, after having studied high school physics while living in Britain. Two years prior she had applied to an Erasmus study year abroad programme because she had wanted to improve her English to a much higher level of fluency. Rather than return to her native Italy, she finished high school in Britain, opting to study physics at a British university. She was in Oxford for a week because she had been accepted for an interview and had asked if we could meet for coffee. As we sat at a café off the Oxford High Street, I asked how her studies were going and why she had decided to stay in Britain as opposed to returning to Bozen-Bolzano. More importantly, however, I wanted to understand why she had decided not to continue learning German. ‘My German is not great’, was the answer that she gave me, despite her many years of having to take lessons. For a student with an ear for foreign languages, German, for some reason, was not one of them. Unfortunately, her opinion of her own knowledge of German was a sentiment I heard from most Italian-speakers, who, like the German-­ speakers, had a better knowledge of English than of the other South © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 A. Wand, Segregation in Language Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-32747-6_5

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Tyrolean languages. This poor knowledge of the second language was a linguistic reality that also functioned as a lived experience for both German- and Italian-speakers who grew up in the school system, which adhered to separate language learning policies. The school system, more importantly for both language groups, functioned as a mirror image of society with a language learning programme that divided local students into three ‘separate but equal’ schooling systems (if we include the Ladin-speaking community).1‘[Since m]ost people live side by side but separately…guarding their “irreducible uniqueness”’ Fait explains that ‘mixed marriages…and mixed schools’ between German- and Italian-speakers ‘are deemed undesirable; even nursery schools are ethnically segregated. This is the result of a clash of two distinct inflections of nationalism’ (2011: 221). As a result, communities in South Tyrol are segregated into intersecting, subdivided enclaves where the three-part education system acts as a window to understanding local group dynamics. Even though the Italian-speaking middle and high school, where I taught English, was located in the German-speaking part of Bozen-­ Bolzano, Italian-speaking students did not use the German language despite the many German-speaking schools throughout the city. It was almost as if the school was situated in a bubble, protecting itself from the outer limits, and yet the German-speaking high schools were equally dismissive of Italian-speaking schools within the province. Consequently, I posed questions to the people who I worked with and to citizens within my own community. I also wanted to examine the structure of the education system and the role it plays in second language learning. By dividing this chapter into four main group components, I break apart German- and Italian-speaking education by explaining how local history has affected the school structure, resulting in segregated schools, which are designed to ‘protect’ both language groups from assimilating with each other. While attempts have been made by Italian-­ speaking schools to incorporate more multilingual learning, German-­ speaking education maintains a reputation of postponing second language acquisition. Finally, many schools within South Tyrol have language dividing walls and separate schooling entrances for German- and Italian-­ speaking students to inhibit them from speaking with each other.

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As teachers try to provide opportunities for students by exposing them to multilingual programmes (i.e., through CLIL), some parents may want to have a multilingual schooling option, alongside the current education system, to function as another avenue for language learning so that their children can become more multilingual. But before we can consider the possibility in South Tyrol for a multilingual education system, we need to understand how each school system is divided, and differs, or compares with each other.

 art I: The History and Background P of the South Tyrolean Education System Historically the subdivided education system has evolved throughout the course of the past century considering the turnover of government enforcement from the Fascist occupation to the Nazis. While German-­ speaking locals tried to establish a series of catacomb schools furthest from Italian-speaking officials, Fascist police tried to enforce Italian education by obliterating underground school efforts (see Chap. 3). Since German-speaking education from 1923 to 1943 was forbidden in the Province of Bolzano (Abel et al. 2012: 274), bitter sentiments developed towards Italian-speaking migrants who were occupying much of local government. It was only with the Nazi occupation in the region that German-­ speaking schools were finally reinstated (Nolet 1984: 63). The Nazis also sanctioned German-speaking education in the Ladin-speaking districts (and surrounding areas) in South Tyrol (Rifesser 1995). The year 1943 provided hope for German-speakers as German-speaking schools were then ‘reopened’ providing mother tongue instruction at the local schooling level, a luxury that used to be forbidden (see Alber 2012: 402). ‘Since the re-establishment’ of German-speaking education, largely due to the Nazi occupation, as of today ‘the German school has been the core of language policy in…an effort to preserve the German mother tongue against “foreign” influences and “mixtures” with other languages’ (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 236–237). Thus, South Tyrol has an

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education system designed to protect the rights of its minorities (i.e., German) (see Nolet 1984) by promoting linguistic separation in the three-part schooling system with the ‘other [official South Tyrolean] language’2 (Lepschy et al. 1996: 77) taught as a foreign language. On 5 September 1946 after the signing of the Paris Agreement, German-speaking South Tyroleans were finally guaranteed the right to German-speaking education (see Alber 2012: 402; see Baur and Medda-­ Windischer 2008: 243 for more information) in an effort to rebuild their own society. One of the objectives of the Paris Agreement was to re-­ establish German-speaking language and culture, which for several years had been endangered due to Fascist policies aimed at Italianising all of South Tyrol. As Abel pointedly explains: Different measures were implemented to assimilate the German and Ladin-­ speaking populations, for instance the Fascist policy established that Italian was to be the only official language in all public offices, therefore not only teachers but all officials, who did not speak or write [standard Italian] were dismissed from their posts. (2007: 238; see Alcock 2001: 3)

Therefore, Abel believes that ‘this historical excursus explains…the reconstruction of [the] German[-speaking] school system’ (Abel 2007: 239) and why the German-speaking locals needed to have their own school system in order to preserve their own identity. From a language learning standpoint, there are many German-speakers who view their language as part of their own culture, and therefore want to ensure that their culture is protected from vulnerable exposure to outsiders. As Baur and Medda-Windischer explain: The force of the language policies under fascism, the prohibition of German-language schools and the use of the German language and its dialects in public and semi-public situations is deeply in the collective memory of the German-language group. From this memory stems a fear of assimilation and a feeling [of ] endangerment. It is thus understandable why, even today, the German language in South Tyrol is often regarded and described as threatened. (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 244)

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Even though there is a desire amongst some German-speaking parents to place their children in multilingual education with some German-­ speakers requesting a ‘demand for bilingual schools’ (see Pallaver 2014: 392), the historical relations between German- and Italian-speakers have resulted in monolingual education, especially regarding German language preservation, so that their mother tongue will never be discarded. Another objective within the German-speaking group is ‘the embracement of monolingualism and monoculturalism’ (Baur and Medda-­ Windischer 2008: 244), which functions as a means to avoid assimilation despite living in a multilingual province. With separate education enforced in  local schools after 1946, this resulted in a two-part education schooling system for German- and Italian-speaking students guaranteeing that elementary and secondary schooling would be taught in their mother tongue (Baur and Medda-­ Windischer 2008: 235; Fraenkel-Haeberle 2008: 260–261). In order to reinforce the use of the mother tongue, students attended schools in their native language. Teachers were also hired based on their mother tongue proficiency and placed in certain schools accordingly. However, both schooling systems were additionally required to teach the official second language (Hannum 1996: 437 cited in Kager 1998), even though the schooling system was initially intended to concentrate on monolingual learning. In 1948 and again in 1972 the schooling structure changed again and resulted in a three-part education schooling system that was ‘separate but equal’ for the three provincial groups: the German-, Italian- and Ladin-­ speakers. The German- and Italian-speakers both had separate schooling systems where their classes were taught in their mother tongue. They also learned the second language from mother-tongue speakers as mandated by the Second Autonomy Statute (Article 19; see Abel 2007: 237). The Ladin schooling system then became the third component which addressed the issues of Ladin minorities. Unlike the two-part schooling system of the German- and Italian-speakers, which practiced a separate education model, the Ladin-speaking3 schools established the parity model and had their courses taught in German and Italian. With that, Ladin became the ‘language of instruction’ (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 235) for Ladin-speaking preschool and kindergarten and could

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also be taught and ‘used as [a] teaching aid in [Ladin-speaking] elementary and secondary schools’ (Peterlini 1997: 198). In Alber and Palermo’s chapter on bilingual law in South Tyrol, they explain that: Separation is…the rule in education. Each group runs its own schools, from the nursery to secondary schools. This means that in Italian-language schools, all subjects are taught in Italian, and, conversely, the schools with German language of instruction only teach in German. Teachers must also prove their mother tongue to be entitled to teach in the school of the respective group. (2012: 292)

With the installation of a three-part schooling system resulting in three independent education offices, Article 19 of the Second Autonomy Statute followed by the Presidential Degree No. 116 of 1973 produced a ‘largely separated education policy’ (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 243; Wand 2016). Since the education system has not changed in terms of structure by virtue of the 1972 Second Autonomy Statute, today all three schooling systems have their own independent school inspector appointed by the Provincial Council of Bozen-Bolzano and the Department of Education (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 236; Alber 2012: 400). In addition, ‘three evaluation boards…were established’ on 29 June 2000. The three provincial boards (representing the German-, Italianand Ladin-speaking school systems) meet at least twice throughout the school year to ensure a common framework is established (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 245). Since the German- and Italian-speaking schools are parallel, aside from language, their school objectives should be equal: However, it seems that the two authorities [i.e., German and Italian] continue to place differing and sometimes contrasting emphases in the ­discussion of objectivism, the evaluation of working procedures and results. (Alber 2012: 411)

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Based on personal experience working at an Italian-speaking secondary school, I was informed by German- and Italian-speaking colleagues and students of the existing cultural dissimilarities dividing German-­ speaking schools from Italian-speaking schools when it came to classroom management. In terms of discipline, the German-speaking schools were ‘stricter’ with teachers as the ultimate authority, while Italian-­ speaking schools were seen as more ‘relaxed’ when confronting students’ behavioural issues.4 Nevertheless, on 28 July 2003 the majority German-speaking provincial government devised a package of measures for second language acquisition in German-speaking schools. Point four of the package emphasised the importance of learning the mother tongue in education before the introduction of a second or third language; a policy which still functions as part of the German-speaking school system today (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 246; Wand 2016).5 However, criticisms have been made by Baur and Medda-Windischer concerning second language acquisition stating that this specific policy ‘is scientifically and didactically unfounded’ (2008: 246) based on the research available on multilingual families (see Egger 1985). From their perspective: There is no doubt that the promotion of the first language is of great importance to learning additional languages but it is by no means a prerequisite. Languages can be learned simultaneously during infancy, as demonstrated in the scientific literature and the language experiences of children…. (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 246)

A good example of early bilingual acquisition is best expressed by Dr Patricia Kuhl, who specialises in the speech development of infants. At a non-profit conference in October 2010, she spoke about her research under the title, The linguistic genius of babies. In her talk she explains the brain’s capacity for learning by emphasising how infants are better equipped to learn languages as soon as they are born. By studying Western and Taiwanese babies between six to twelve months old, she describes how both sets of children are able to distinguish the sounds existing in Mandarin and English, but by the time they reach the age of ten months,

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those children who are less exposed to the second language have a much harder time distinguishing certain sounds. Kuhl refers to this language learning shift as one where the children transition from being ‘citizens of the world’ (i.e., easily influenced language learners) to ‘culturally bound listeners’ where older infants’ brains become wired to listen for certain sounds specifically reserved for their mother tongue. After the age of seven, the critical period for learning languages becomes increasingly more difficult, so much so that after the age of puberty ‘we fall off the [language learning] map’ (Kuhl 2010).6 In his TEDx talk in New Bedford, Massachusetts on Why we struggle learning languages, Gabriel Wyner explains that there are three advantages to being a child in relation to second language acquisition. Between the ages of six and twelve months ‘children can hear sounds in a new language in a way that [adults] lose’. Children are also ‘fearless’ whereas adults are more tentative and tend to hold themselves back. Finally, children have time, whereas adults ‘do not have 15,000 hours to spend learning French’ (Wyner 2017). Thus, there is a belief in what is referred to as the Critical Period Hypothesis (CPH), which suggests that younger age groups are more proficient at learning a second language than if learning is postponed until puberty or adulthood. According to Lightbrown and Spada, CPH states that there is a time when ‘the brain is predisposed’ to learning a second language. This is normally when a child or infant is at the age when learning languages is biologically innate (1999: 60). CPH suggests that children learn languages more easily because of their developing brain’s plasticity, which allows them to use both sides of their brain’s hemispheres ‘in language acquisition’ (Nacamulli 2015), while in adults, language learning is usually reserved for the left hemisphere (ibid.). Once children become older, they ‘depend on more general learning abilitiesthe same ones they might use to learn other kinds of skills or information’ (Lightbrown and Spada 1999: 60). These ‘general learning abilities’ are thought to be less efficient at learning a second language, as opposed to those abilities found in early childhood (ibid.). However, Wyner believes that it is a myth that ‘children are exceptionally good at learning languages and that we lose that gift when we grow up’ (Wyner 2017). Consequently, there is scepticism regarding this

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hypothesis as some studies show that older language learners can progress in the second language faster than younger students in the same early stages of second language development. There are ‘countless anecdotes’ of older students becoming highly proficient in the second language (Lightbrown and Spada 1999: 61). Therefore, it should be no surprise that the German-speaking schools are still insistent on postponing second language learning. As hesitations arise over whether early second language instruction could eliminate the German-speaking students’ mother tongue, Lightbrown and Spada caution that intensive early second language exposure could result in ‘the loss or incomplete development’ of the mother tongue (1999: 68). Regardless, in an interview with Josep Maria Artigal in 1993 at a convention on immersion linguistic teaching in Europe, he explained that an ‘immersion programme, if carried out correctly, does not contrast with the mother tongue’ (1993: 99). If anything, he stressed that parents should not worry about the difficulties their children may face in learning another language because if ‘treated well’ learning additional languages will not have an effect on other subjects that they study (i.e., geography, maths, etc.). Immersion teaching, he continued, starts at the beginning by communicating with a child, which means that children can recognise other ways of speaking ‘as if it [was their] mother tongue’ (ibid.). That said, there are still parents in South Tyrol who would prefer to place their children in a monolingual setting. Therefore, the concept of ‘Free Choice’ is a part of legislation and has been since the early 1970s. The ‘Free Choice’ option in education permits parents in South Tyrol to place their children in a school of their own choosing (Alber 2012: 406) where ‘[s]tudents may enrol in any school regardless of their primary language’ (Larin and Röggla 2019: 1024). While parents can decide where to place their children ‘from pre-school to secondary school’ (see Van Dongera et al. 2017: 62), students can be refused admission if their ‘linguistic ability is considered to be insufficient to attend classes in the language of the school’ (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 236; see Wand 2016). This option in education allows parents from both spectrums to opt for monolingual or bilingual learning, in that parents from one language group can enrol their children in a school that uses the other official

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language. If students are refused enrolment, ‘parents can challenge the school’s decision in front of the Administrative Court’ (Baur and Medda-­ Windischer 2008: 236), but it is only in recent years that the German-­ speaking school system has become more flexible towards accepting non-German-speaking students. Although the former German-­ speaking President of South Tyrol, Luis Durnwalder, declared in 2001 that German-speaking schools were now open to all South Tyrolean citizens (Peterlini 2013: 237), historically German-speaking schools have had a reputation for closing their doors to those who are not mother tongue German-speakers.

Walsche e Crucchi As of thirty years ago it was much harder for Italian-speaking students to receive a German-speaking education. Students who were not of German-­ speaking mother tongue and/or did not have a German last name were less inclined to be accepted into German-speaking schools in order to preserve the German-speaking culture, language, and identity. My friend Melissa was nonetheless an exception to the rule, as she had attended German-speaking schools throughout her life. Her Italian-­ speaking parents decided forty years ago that a German-speaking education would be much better for their children if they wanted them to become bilingual and more attractive for the South Tyrolean job market. As a result, her mother enrolled herself into several German language courses at the Goethe Institute in Germany so that she could learn enough High German to teach her young children the language so that they would be fluent enough to enter nursery school. The reasoning behind this logic is that many Italian-speaking parents see the benefits of a German-speaking education but realise that in order to get their children into the German-speaking school system their children must be fluent in the language. If by teaching them High German at a very early age their children can ‘pass’ as German-speakers, some Italian-speaking parents hope that enrolling them in German-speaking nursery school will allow them to eventually pick up one of the local German dialects, an important linguistic trademark of German-speaking

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South Tyroleans. It is the dialect that qualifies locals as German-speakers rather than their knowledge of High German. It is also what allows children to assimilate into German-speaking society so that they can transition into the German-speaking work force. There is a downside, however, to multilingual education in South Tyrol in the form of student bullying. Whenever students have opportunities to torment each other sometimes language plays a role in group selection, determining which students are the ‘odd men out’ of a particular society, resulting in a form of isolation. For Melissa, the early years of German-­ speaking education were one of group assimilation and inclusion until she reached high school where she was largely segregated due to her linguistic affiliation. The result culminated in many years of depression, which lasted into adulthood. During my time in Bozen-Bolzano, I noticed that distinctions were constantly, if not casually, made between ‘German-speakers’ and ‘Italian-­ speakers’ as locals tried to place each other into categorical boxes. As an English-speaker I was continually assessed because I looked ‘German’ but did not speak the language (apart from a few simple phrases), and while I did speak Italian, it was not my mother tongue and I always spoke the language with an accent. This classifying system in South Tyrol for those who are ‘German’ and ‘Italian’ manifests itself into two societal group distinctions: the Crucchi and the Walsche. Crucchi (in English, ‘krauts’), is an Italian term which refers to people who are German-speaking, while Walsche (in High German, Welschen) is a German dialect word which refers to those who are not German-speaking. Historically used by the ‘German-speakers who came into contact with the Ladins on the northern fringes of the Dolomites’ this German term for ‘strangers’ (known in Anglo-Saxon terminology as Welsh) also referred to speakers of neo-Latin languages (Poppi 2001: 5). While the German-speaking South Tyrolean writer and journalist, Hans Karl Peterlini insists that Walsche is a generic term used to distinguish Italian-speakers from German-speakers, he does agree, like Oberhammer, that the word takes on derogatory meanings depending on the context in which it is used (2013: 34; see Oberhammer 2007: 249). In the case of Melissa when she attended a German-speaking high school in the 1990s, the term Walsche was used in a negative context,

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which resulted in her feeling like an outcast. Having learned the local German dialect at a very early age, she had adjusted to the German-­ speaking school system and in her words had found that learning was a positive experience and that her time in German-speaking schools had been quite ‘fun’. It was only when she reached the later years of education, that her social circle started to shrink resulting in a very lonely last few years of high school, which contributed to her mental illness. Her parents had placed her in a German-speaking Catholic high school with a well-known reputation in the city, but as the high school was a continuation of the adjoining middle school, most students by the time they reached the upper secondary school had already established their own circle of friends. Those new students, like Melissa, who felt left out of the inner social circles eventually left after the first month of school, giving Melissa her first taste of social isolation starting at 14 years old. Of her five years of high school, she remembered the first two and said that she ‘blocked out’ the other three. As the only student in her class with Italian-speaking parents, she became a target for some students. Some would call her an ‘ugly Walscher’, which she would try to ignore but by her second year the teasing was much worse. Since her German-­ speaking middle school had not spent enough time teaching students German grammar, by the time she reached high school, it was evident that her grammar was not sufficient enough for her German language classes. Despite her fluent knowledge of the local German dialect her ‘Italian-ness’ did not play in her favour and her grades began to slip as her German language teachers thought that linguistically she would not pass the class. After several years of teasing coupled with problems with German grammar, eventually Melissa reached the end of her rope when a classmate decided to make fun of the recent grades that she had received in class. Whilst turning to a friend he said in a loud voice, ‘Hey! You’ve got a grade like scimmione!’, a play on words for ‘Simoni’, Melissa’s last name, but in this case scimmione in Italian means ‘ape’. Without thinking she turned to face him as he called her an ‘ugly Walscher’ and said, ‘You don’t know German, nor does your mother. You’re better off leaving this school!’ At which point she took her boot and kicked him in the face and said, ‘Now you can learn to say nothing’. Afraid that her parents would

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be mortified, instead she came home to find that her father was quite proud. Despite the students and staff thinking that Melissa had gone mad, her father said, ‘Next time, give him two kicks’. Even so, that particular incident caused Melissa to ostracise herself from her peers. While the student who had been kicked had insisted that his bruise was because he had fallen off a bike, the headmaster had made efforts to keep the issue silent rather than addressing segregation in school. Consequently, by her fifth year, Melissa stopped attending classes altogether because she was excluded by the other students. This turned into loneliness as well as depression, causing her to see a psychologist. In our interview she stated that: All of the problems I have now are due to the fact that five important years were taken away from me while I was a teenager. I didn’t have any friends at all, nothing…all of the problems I have now are due to these five years. At the age of 32 I find myself always having to be around my mother and my mother, well, she has her limits… If you don’t have a group of friends and/or a boyfriend during your teenage years, you will continue to search for those things for the rest of your life simply because your teenage years are missing…

Therefore, Melissa felt that these high school turn of events led to her mental instability. She explained that despite her several years in therapy her social skills had been affected, preventing her from growing into an adult, and resorting to acting like a teenager. While her story may seem like an extreme form of isolation, unfortunately she was not alone. In an interview with a German-speaking academic, she discussed an intense case of village tensions and told me the story of a German-speaking woman who had fallen in love with an Italian-speaking policeman. As he was a member of the Italian police force, her family had forbidden the two to marry. In her distress the woman was admitted to a psychiatric institute because she could not come to terms with her misfortune. And yet when speaking with a Ladin from the Ladin-speaking districts, I learned that not all districts are linguistically divided. Caterina, who came from the village of Ortisei, in the Ladin-speaking valley of

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Gardena, claimed that there were no such things as derogatory terms for the German-, Italian- or Ladin-speakers. Instead, the groups all lived together and attended the Ladin-speaking schools and were being educated at an equal level. It was only when she moved from Ortisei to Bozen-Bolzano to attend a German-speaking high school that she noticed the distinctions between German- and Italian-speakers who lived socially segregated from each other. Apart from South Tyrol, there are other border regions where terminology is used for certain groups. On the French and German border between German Saarland and the French Lorraine, anthropologist Tomke Lask looked at playground politics between young German- and French-speaking students. In the village of Leidingen-Leiding, a smaller version of Bozen-Bolzano, the village was divided based on language. Students went to certain schools in their own mother tongue, and even cemeteries were linguistically divided. As an experiment she tried to have the students work together on a group project at an elementary school, but found that once they reached the playground pandemonium erupted as students from both camps broke into fighting. While the fighting was initially the biggest school concern, Lask reflected on the students’ choice of words. The German-speaking students would refer to French-speaking students as ‘baguette heads’, while the French-speaking students called German-speaking students ‘spiked helmets’, a term which had been passed on from generation to generation since the Franco-Prussian war of 1870. As a result, the playground acted as a small-scale, mock Franco-­ Prussian war providing a window into past local relations as reflected through the mouths of younger students (Lask 1994). While South Tyrol is somewhat different in its historicity, the term for ‘stranger’ has existed for a millennium, acting as a beacon for society at large in terms of how the local groups still view each other.

One Territory, Two Realities Be that as it may, from a language learning standpoint, more parents are expressing their concerns about the lack of sufficient second language learning options available in South Tyrolean schools. For Italian-speaking

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parents, many want to have ‘intensified second language training and education’ with ‘opportunities [for their children] to meet German-­ speaking South Tyroleans’, attend ‘bilingual schools’, and participate in ‘training and cooperation programmes with the other language group’ (see Pallaver 2014: 392). Even as far back as 2004 some Italian-speaking parents, teachers, and students, were also interested in trilingual schooling. However, the Italian-speaking Provincial Assessor, Luisa Gnecchi, had her objections towards trilingual education. Despite support for the idea from the German-speaking superintendent, Bruna Rauzi, Gnecchi was concerned with the financial costs and resources, and knew that adequate procedures to prepare trilingual teachers were outside the bounds of what their schools could offer (see Giudiceandrea 2015: 23, 28–29; Wand 2016). Instead, when meeting with the provincial government on 19 May 2008 she suggested the idea of establishing ‘a certain number of [mixed sections in] nursery school’ (Hell 2008b) where teaching could be taught by both a German- and Italian-speaking teacher for Italian-speaking students enrolled in German-speaking schools. The concept was to involve grouping Italian-speaking students (presumably away from German-­ speaking students) so that certain portions of their classes could be taught in German and Italian by local native speakers from the province. From her perspective this would resolve some issues with the SVP regarding lingering concerns in education (ibid.): that Italian-speaking students enrolled in German-speaking schools would impede the learning of the German language. Given the surplus of Italian-speaking parents wanting to enrol their children in German-speaking education, this could satisfy Italian-speaking parents as well as German-speaking political officials. Although these mixed language sections now exist in some Italian-­ speaking elementary schools, German-speaking education has yet to acquiesce to the possibility of bilingual schooling sections.7 Nevertheless, there are parents who encourage bilingual education for their children, as they see bilingualism as a golden ticket for work opportunities down the line. While forty years ago Melissa’s parents were progressive by placing her in German-speaking schools, over time there has been an increase in Italian-speaking parents who have opted to follow in their footsteps. In a 2019 article, Massimiliano Boschi discovered, when talking with a school

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advisor, that ‘“In the past [several] years…there [has been] a strong tendency on the part of the Italian-speaking families to enrol their children in German-speaking nursey school”’ so that they can immediately introduce ‘“the learning of the second language”’ (see Boschi 2019b). Since many adults cannot work in public administration without an understanding of German and Italian (see Giudiceandrea 2015: 23), this has encouraged some families to push for bilingual language fluency at a younger age, as well as support better methods of immersion teaching. In 2008, as many as 23 percent of Italian-speaking families chose to place their children in German-speaking education (Hell 2008a; Wand 2016), while January 2014 showed a dramatic decrease in the number of Italian-speaking parents enrolling their children in Italian-speaking nurseries for the 2014/2015 school year. In the words of the South Tyrolean Provincial Councillor, Alessandro Urzì, Italian and mixed families [i.e., families of both German- and Italian-speaking ancestry] will always be more inclined to gravitate towards German-speaking nursery schools, as Italian-speaking parents are constantly dissatisfied with the second language learning options in Italian-speaking education (Sticcotti 2014). With 74 to 84.7 percent of multilingual-speakers attending German-­ speaking schools (see ASTAT 2015: 49), there is a belief: that placing children in the German-speaking classroom is a kind of investment for the future and nursery school is considered an ideal context for the initial immersion in the second language. (Sticcotti 2014)

Furthermore, it was felt, by one Italian-speaking teacher at an elementary school in Fortezza, that it is understandable why less Italian-speaking children are being enrolled into Italian-speaking classrooms. German, in her opinion, provides more work opportunities ‘“in Austria, Germany and Switzerland”’, work opportunities that could be ‘“more interesting than”’ what students would find in Italy (see Boschi 2019a). In addition, German-speaking schools have ‘“more resources”’ resulting in ‘“more teachers”’ that ‘“can offer [better language learning] services”’ than the teachers at her Italian-speaking school are able to provide (see ibid.). Surveys conducted as far back as the 1970s show that German- and Italian-speaking South Tyroleans were aware of the values of promoting

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bilingualism in order to ‘[enhance] cross-group interaction’ (see Kaplan 1999: 52; Wand 2016). However, former South Tyrolean senator, Dr Francesco Palermo, states that Italian-speaking parents (and in some cases, German-speaking parents) do not necessarily place their children in the school of the official second language to encourage better movement between the two cultures. Instead, it is because there is no satisfactory bilingual option in South Tyrolean education (Palermo 2012: 71). Palermo’s comments are similar to personal observations that I made between 2011 and 2012, when I noticed the demand by Italian-speaking parents for better second language learning opportunities. These observations indicated that the second language learning options available in Italian-speaking schools were not being well received by some Italian-­ speaking parents (Wand 2016). In 2002, Eichinger described complaints by the ‘Italian-speaking group’ who believed that: segregation [was] an obstacle for their children to [learn] how to use German properly. According to them, children with Italian as their mother tongue have only restricted opportunities to use German outside school, so only bilingual surroundings at school can ensure that they acquire adequate communicative skills in German. (2002: 141)

These complaints by Italian-speaking parents suggest ‘that something [in education] is not working’ (see Hell 2008a), especially when it comes to second language acquisition opportunities in Italian-speaking schools. Consequently, these results confirm further observations concluded by Larin and Röggla when they described how: Italian-speakers are generally less satisfied with the current state of affairs in South Tyrol, and their support for several aspects of the system is generally 5–10 per cent lower than that of German-speakers (ASTAT 2015); this is often described as the ‘disagio italiano’ [Italian discomfort]. This discomfort is most pronounced regarding multilingual education. Italian-speakers generally recognise that German is the language of opportunity in South Tyrol, but feel that the current school system does not adequately prepare their children for this reality. Accordingly, many of them favour a shift toward fully bilingual schools that follow the Ladin model. Most German-­

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speakers, however, fear that bilingual schools would undermine the use of German in the province and are against changing the system. (2019: 1036)

Yet in terms of group cohesion in South Tyrolean society despite segregation in schools, some believe that there is a merging of the Germanand Italian-speaking groups who are less intent on coexisting as separate entities, and are more committed towards erasing social friction. In a speech in 2000 at Eurac Research, during their Summer Academy, researcher Stephan Böckler stated that in South Tyrol there is a: necessity [nowadays] to also learn the language of the other group [which] provides one of the essential conditions of a reciprocal understanding and an intensification of social interaction. Indeed, recent sociological research shows that ethnic distance especially within the younger and middle generations is decreasing in South Tyrol giving way to a common territorial identification of both groups. (cited in Marko 2008: 387–388)8

Although Böckler’s statement suggests that South Tyroleans are shifting towards becoming more multilingual, studies at Eurac Research conducted in 2008 nonetheless convey a slightly different perspective. As part of the study by Forer et  al., sixteen high profile citizens from the Bozen-Bolzano area, ranging from media to education, and research-­ based outlets, were interviewed to discuss their personal perspectives on ‘“the language question”’ in South Tyrol. When asked if they thought that South Tyrol was part of a supposed ‘bilingual reality’, the results indicated that while South Tyrol is ‘perceived’ as being bilingual, in reality it is not (Forer et al. 2008).9 These results were reinforced by Daniele Fiori in his article with Il fatto quotidiano (The Daily Fact), when he stated that ‘South Tyrol [is] separated and monolingual’ (2017). In his opinion, bilingualism, which should be considered ‘the biggest richness for the inhabitants’ of South Tyrol ‘is in fact only a mirage’ due in ‘large part to the young South Tyroleans’ (ibid.). It is not only young German-­ speakers, but also young Italian-speakers who do not confidently ‘know and use…the [other] language…’ (ibid.). Therefore ‘Italian-speakers do not take advantage of the possibility to become perfectly bilingual’, which means their knowledge of German is unfortunately at an elementary level

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(Fiori 2017). While bilingual practices were found in public administration, according to Forer et al.’s research, outside of public positions bilingualism was said to be non-existent. One interviewee even went so far as to refer to this reality as a form of ‘sectoral bilingualism’ (Forer et  al. 2008), where specific working environments required a certain linguistic knowledge of both languages, but outside of those conditions, bilingualism was uncommon. From one interviewee’s perspective: If by bilingualism one should have a perfect mastering of two languages and not only the passive comprehension of the second language, then bilinguals would not even represent ten percent of the South Tyrolean population. (ibid.)

In actuality, the small minority of bilingual-speakers tend to come solely from bilingual-speaking families (Forer et  al. 2008), rather than monolingual-speaking ones10 with only 2 to 4.8 percent of South Tyroleans claiming that they have two mother tongues (see ASTAT 2015: 23). While there have been attempts by German- and Italian-speaking families to push for bilingual education, the school system is based on the Second Autonomy Statute, which supports monolingual education. As a result, ‘South Tyrol does not represent…a “reality with two languages”, but rather a territory divided into “two realities”’ (ibid.): one German, the other one, Italian.

Re-Germanisation When I met with Dr Peter Höllrigl, former scholastic superintendent of the German-speaking school system in April 2012, we discussed the language learning issues evident amongst many Italian-speaking students when they are required to learn German. While German-speaking students have the same language requirements as their Italian-speaking counterparts, German-speakers’ language skills tend to be more superior to Italian-speaking students. According to Höllrigl, German-speakers have historically had less difficulty learning Italian as they tend to speak

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more often with Italian-speaking residents, resulting in better second language comprehension. Since South Tyrolean German-speakers: [t]raditionally…[drew] considerable self-esteem out of the fact that they generally mastered Italian better than Italian speakers master German…today, be it because of their exposure to the national media or the dialect barrier for Italians, a group of German speakers usually switch to Italian whenever an Italian mother tongue speaker turns up. (Voltmer 2007: 218)

Giudiceandrea explains that when it comes to second language learning, the linguistic majority will always have more difficulty learning the minority language as opposed to the minority group who will normally have less difficulty learning the national language. ‘To give an example: even in Bilbao it [would] be more difficult for a Spaniard to learn Basque, than for a Basque to learn Spanish’ (Giudiceandrea 2015: 30). As Italian citizens, South Tyrolean German-speakers, have had to develop an acceptable understanding, both passively and actively, of Italian in order to survive in their society. Conversely, Italian-speakers over the past forty years have developed an unsatisfactory working knowledge of German, even after all their years of German study (see Giudiceandrea 2015: 23–24 for more information). Subsequently, this insufficient knowledge of the German language has prevented Italian-speaking South Tyroleans from obtaining higher level positions in banks and businesses, since bilingualism is required for economic and professional posts (Giovanetti 1998: 894). In 2008, however, one interviewee stated to researchers Forer et  al., that the Italian-speaking group was starting to demonstrate a better comprehension of the German language, as opposed to the German-speaking community, which was showing a ‘drastic’ decline in Italian proficiency (see Forer et  al. 2008). Since German is the majority language used throughout South Tyrol, ‘70% of the public professions are allocated to German-speakers’, which means ‘the career perspectives in the region are relatively better for fluent German speakers’ (Van Dongera et al. 2017: 64). With Italian-speakers starting to understand the economic advantages that come with knowing German, without German they run the

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risk of being ‘excluded’ from the job market, both in the public and private sectors (see Peterlini 2013: 120). Furthermore, Voltmer states that, ‘publicly certified bilinguals’ who are state employees ‘are paid a certain so-called bilingualism allowance on a monthly basis’ (2007: 215). Additionally, multilingual families in South Tyrol ‘earn more than monolingual ones’ (Alber 2012: 413). Multilingual-speakers also tend to ‘have more possibilities to compete for good job positions, because of their language proficiency’ and ‘their ability to understand both the Germanand Italian socio-economic contexts in all its nuances’ (ibid.). This is interesting considering what Forer et al. term an increase in ‘“re-­ Germanisation”’ as some German-speakers rely solely on the German language at the expense of using their Italian. With the Schengen Agreement came the opening of the Austrian-Italian borders, which meant that German-speakers could have more access to monolingual German-speaking areas. Since most social contexts in South Tyrol are predominately German-speaking (especially in rural areas), there is no ‘daily stimulus’ for German-speakers to advance their knowledge of Italian. Even in the cities where both language groups tend to co-exist amongst each other, knowing the second language is not required, nor necessary for a South Tyrolean urban setting (see Forer et al. 2008). As a result, this linguistic self-reliance reinforces the use of the mother tongue, which is partially encouraged by the education system, which has taught communities to stay divided (see ibid.). While many of the informants from Forer et al.’s research support the idea of multilingual education, there is continued criticism that ‘“As long as these [educational] structures remain rigorously separated”’ they will continue to fortify the existing divisions in South Tyrolean society (2008). Additionally: If the school [system] only offers contacts internally to their own linguistic group systematically excluding relationships with the other [language] group, the development of a context of the use of language becomes difficult…outside of the scholastic environment. Instead of favouring the ­creation of a space [in order to create] contacts and exchanges [between students from both language groups], [the school system] creates parallel worlds where “one lives next to another without…knowing anything about the reality of the other, not even their name”. (Forer et al. 2008)

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Therefore, it is important to gain a deeper understanding of the South Tyrolean education system to investigate how South Tyrol’s segregated schools may reinforce ethnolinguistic divisions.

Part II: The Italian-Speaking School System The education system in South Tyrol is based on the Italian state model (Abel 2007: 236). But unlike most Italian schools, the learning of a second language is mandatory, starting from the earlier years of elementary education as opposed to other provinces in Italy (Telmon 1992: 78). In 2000, South Tyrol gained school autonomy through Provincial law No. 12 (see Visser 2017: 10), permitting local government to make changes to their curriculum by up to 15 percent (Abel 2007: 137) in order to promote local school interests. One of the changes was to introduce English as a foreign language in elementary education (ibid.) since English has become the language of market exchange both within and outside Europe’s global economy. For those attending courses in the South Tyrolean school system, education is divided into three parts: elementary education (ages 6–11 years) for the first five years of schooling, followed by three years of middle school, or lower secondary school, instruction (11–14 years), ending with five years of high school, or upper secondary school (14–19 years), before students can apply for university (Abel 2007: 236; Visser 2017: 10, 19). School is compulsory from the ages of 6 to 16, but to obtain an ‘upper secondary leaving certificate or a vocational qualification’ students must have a general education or attend a vocational or technical institution until the age of 18 (see Visser 2017: 10). Preschool and kindergarten are also available from one to three years (Abel 2007: 236), but ‘this level of education is not compulsory’ (Van Dongera et al. 2017: 62), which means ‘[p]arents pay a monthly fee for running costs’ (Visser 2017: 16). Schools are then divided based on mother tongue instruction, which determines where most children go to school. Tourism institutes, which require students to be fluent in both German and Italian, are still divided into ‘German’ and ‘Italian’ programmes, even though both programmes are designed to prepare students for the same professions, and to work

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with the same clientele (see Peterlini 2013: 125). There is only one exception, the School for Higher Education for Health Professionals, Claudiana, which offers a bilingual curriculum in German and Italian (see Visser 2017: 12).11 At any rate, the schools within South Tyrol are required to prepare their students for an education in their mother tongue followed by the learning of the second language. However, there are criticisms stemming from Italian-speaking education over whether it prepares its students to become ‘citizens with an adequate cultural and linguistic foundation’ (Giudiceandrea 2015: 25). Giudiceandrea states that on average Italian-­ speaking students receive over the course of their schooling 2,200 hours of German language instruction but are unable to speak the official second language like their German-speaking counterparts. Compared to other regions in Italy, which receive less hours of second language instruction, Italian-speaking graduates from those regions have a better comprehension of a second language than Italian-speaking students from South Tyrol (Giudiceandrea 2015: 29–30). This tends to conflict with the ASTAT results of 2015, which found that 8.9 percent to 21.5 percent of Italian-speakers were able to completely understand High German (ASTAT 2015: 130), with ASTAT indicating that Italian-speakers had the highest level of bilingualism (compared to German-speakers) while they were still in school (ASTAT 2015: 26). The ASTAT figures, however, contradicted many comments that I heard from other South Tyroleans, including from this key informant who used to work at an Italian-speaking high school. For Italian-­ speaking students: …if they study German since elementary school, their results are still insufficient because the students have an aversion to the second language. Despite “learning” it, they don’t speak it, and treat German like a dead language.

Furthermore, Abel adds that: …despite the large number of second language classes [in South Tyrol]approximately 2,000 hours from primary school to the end of upper sec-

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ondary education- the results are not satisfactory either in Italian or in German schools. (2007: 240)12

This is similar to the results found by Vettori Ebner who stated in 2016 that despite the ‘more than 2,000 teaching lessons for both German and Italian-speaking pupils…’ and ‘considerable resource costs and…initiatives’, the second language ‘proficiency of South Tyroleans- especially that of Italian speakers- is widely believed to be inadequate’ (2016: 26); particularly considering that Italian-speaking students have more hours of German than German-speakers have of learning Italian (see ASTAT 2015: 158). Consequently, some Italian-speaking schools, since the 1990s, have started to promote immersion teaching by using the German and English languages to teach certain subjects, such as geography and maths (see Giudiceandrea 2015: 25). Pilot projects have been used to introduce the second language (Abel 2007: 239), such as Content and Language Integrated Learning (CLIL), which allows some courses to be taught through the second language so that language use can have more application. The objective is to encourage the ‘mastery’ of a subject alongside the ‘mastery’ of ‘the second or foreign language’.13 While I was doing fieldwork there were discussions about the possibility of introducing the CLIL method at the school where I taught English, but the majority of the language teachers did not use immersion methods but relied on grammar books and English textbooks. However, since I had an advanced English class, I was told that I could use ‘a CLIL-type method’ and opted to teach my students anthropology using English as the language of instruction. After I completed fieldwork a couple of my colleagues implemented CLIL-type teaching in their classrooms, which has persisted even now into the 2020s, despite the interruptions from the global pandemic. Even though the use of CLIL is not mandatory in Italian-speaking schools, it is still ‘suggested, but depends on the availability’14 of teachers who are C1 or C2 proficient.15 In any case, over the past thirty years there has been an increase in second language learning opportunities in Italian-speaking education to provide more learning strategies for Italian-speaking students who would like to develop their German. In 2000, Legislative Degree No. 12, also

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known as the ‘Law on Provincial School Autonomy’, permitted ‘several Italian- language schools [to create] plurilingual sections’ (see Alber 2012: 412). German and Italian could be used ‘as languages[s] of instruction’ for ‘a certain amount of hours’ through the use of the CLIL method (ibid.). While German-speaking schools, as of the early 2020s, are not recognised for using CLIL, on 8 July 2013, the South Tyrolean Provincial Council drafted a proposal permitting German-speaking schools to use the CLIL method in their school system starting from the 2013/2014 school year. In their proposal it stated that the use of a second or third language could be used to teach up to two ‘non-language disciplines’ with the understanding that these courses would not affect the mother tongue and would meet the EU’s language learning standards.16 However, based on my interviews from 2011 to 2021, with informants who taught in German-speaking schools, very few of those informants taught German-speaking students using the CLIL method. One informant even insisted that CLIL was not an option in German-speaking education. While another explained that she had only seen CLIL used in German-speaking schools in ‘11 Project high schools’ and that these ‘language projects’ (or classes) at the elementary and middle school level were not referred to as CLIL. There was only one informant at a German-­ speaking high school who could say with full assurance that she used the CLIL method in teaching history with Italian as the language of instruction. The rest of my informants, who either worked in German-speaking schools and/or had children in the German-speaking school system, were not aware of the CLIL method or immersion language teaching during the course of my fieldwork. ‘In the opinion of school authorities’, according to Alber: CLIL is just one possible means to increase the [knowledge of the second language], but not necessarily the best one… [Instead] German school authorities [in theory] actively and successfully support other measures facilitating second language learning (school partnerships, projects among twin schools, summer camps, etc.) [as an alternative to CLIL-based education]. (2012: 412–413)

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Subsequently both school systems (i.e., German and Italian) have varied perspectives towards immersion education, where Italian-speaking schools seem to be more inclined to consider immersion teaching methods. Nevertheless, immersion methods in Italian-speaking schools are available to a select few. Therefore, for most, the official second language is still taught as a foreign language.

 econd Language Learning from Kindergarten S to High School Before the late 1980s, the Italian-speaking schools were required to teach German from year two, but soon afterward ‘it was made compulsory’ that they teach the German language as soon as students started year one (Abel 2007: 237). Unlike the German-speaking schools, which tried to postpone these same measures until 2004 (see ibid.), the Italian-speaking schools were at the forefront of trying to promote earlier second language acquisition. The SVP, however, in the 1980s ‘made little [social] effort’ (Magliana 2000: 86) to encourage integration. They also ‘took a stand against [an] Italian proposal to add several hours of German [language] lessons into… Italian kindergartens…and were opposed to the possibility of Italian[-speaking] children attending’ German-speaking schools (ibid.). From the SVP’s perspective, it was felt that Italian-speaking students would ‘infiltrate’ the German-speaking schools if they were introduced to German starting from when they entered preschool. With Italian-speaking students acting as ‘little Trojan horses’, the SVP was concerned that immersion teaching would erase the barriers between the German- and Italian-speaking schools, resulting in a threat to the German-speaking minority (Peterlini 2013: 119). Eventually the provincial government agreed to allow German to be used as an instructional language for a limited number of subjects in Italian-speaking schools. In 1997 the Provincial Assessor, Bruno Hosp, proposed that German could be used as a language of instruction in Italian-speaking education for up to one-third of the week provided that the German-speaking schools would not have to reciprocate. In his opinion immersion education ‘constituted an “erosion of the protection of

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minority schools [on the basis of ] international and constitutional rights”’ (Peterlini 2013: 127). However, despite the possibility to introduce limited immersion teaching in Italian-speaking education, Italian-speaking schools at present have the option of introducing the German language starting in kindergarten (Abel 2007: 240). It is there where Italian-speaking kindergartens have been reported to be ‘bilingual’, but this is based merely on one statement by South Tyrolean Vice-President, Dr Christian Tommasini (see Corni 2013). While in the 1980s, it would have been forbidden for a nursery teacher to teach German through play to Italian-speaking students (see Peterlini 2013: 119), nowadays German is taught six hours per week in the first and second years of elementary education, which is then reduced to five and a half hours per week starting in year three until students reach year six.17 Once students attend middle school, German is taught four to five hours per week, which is then reduced to four hours per week once students reach high school.18 As for teaching English, the instructional hours have changed since the 1990s when it was initially offered up as an additional foreign language for students in middle school. Starting in the 2006/2007 school year, English was taught in elementary schools for one hour per week beginning in year three, which increased to two hours per week in years four and five. By the following school year, years two to five had up to two hours of English per week, while students in year one had anywhere from one to two hours of English language instruction.19 With Italian-speaking students receiving up to thirteen years of English language classes,20 English is now taught as a third language for one and half hours per week in years one and two. Once students reach year three, English is increased to two and half hours per week until students reach high school where it is reduced to two hours per week.21 Although the hours of German and English language instruction may differ from school to school (as there seems to be no unified form of second and third language instruction),22 immersion education is not the standard form of teaching, despite the legal possibilities to do so. Nevertheless, the majority of Italian-speaking elementary schools in Bozen-Bolzano have established bilingual-speaking sections, which consist of up to two classes per school year.23 While German-speaking schools,

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according to one informant, view the concept as ‘unthinkable’, bilingual education has become more prevalent in Italian-speaking schools.24 That said, there are a limited number of spaces for students to enrol in these bilingual sections. Therefore, priority is given to bilingual-speaking families or for students who attended German-speaking kindergarten.25 For those students who are able to enrol in these bilingual-speaking classes, students can receive up to 12 hours of German language instruction, where some course material, like maths and sciences, is taught through the use of German.26

Part III: The German-Speaking School System In German-speaking education, one aspect that must be noted is the schools’ adherence to preserving their mother tongue. According to Abel: The topic “German mother-tongue” is omnipresent in South Tyrol, a subject for scientific studies and everyday discussions alike. The fascist prohibition of using the German language seems to be imprinted in the collective memory of the German language group. Although it is nowadays diminishing, the fear of “contamination” of the German standard language through Italian is compounded by the threat of an insufficient command of the German standard due to the widespread use of various Tyrolean dialects. Regarding language contact, the fear of a kind of mish-mash society, “half spaghetti-half knödel” is very much present. Hence the importance attributed by German-speakers to mother-tongue instruction. (2007: 239)

Since many German-speakers (and in some cases, Italian-speakers) believe the German-speaking school system is the only place for German-­ speakers to learn High German, it is thought that Italian-speakers’ ‘interference’ in schools prevents German dialect-speakers from learning standard German (see Eichinger 2002: 141; Visser 2017: 31). As German-­ speaking schools ‘are seen as essential for the linguistic and cultural survival of the German[-speaking] community’ they are viewed ‘as the cornerstone of the autonomy of South Tyrol’ (Visser 2017: 31). Therefore,

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German-speaking schools reserve the right to German language education to safeguard their culture for new generations in order to protect their own identity. One way to achieve group solidarity is through proposing German language education. Another way is to discourage immersion education in case it might ‘affect’ the mother tongue. In 2004 the Pedagogical Institute for the German-speaking community and the German-speaking school board published an item called the Sprachenkonzept, or the ‘language concept’. In this document it states, ‘that the first language is a necessary base for learning the second language’ (Abel 2007: 239) under the ‘assumption’ that students should know their mother tongue before they transition to another (ibid.). With regards to language learning, German-speaking schools have their ‘[r]eservations against immersion teaching’ in that there is a belief that the: promotion of the first (and minority) language is a fundamental precondition for learning any other language and vital to the development of the German-speaking minority within the Italian State. (Alber 2012: 412)

In 2011, when I met with Dr Günther Andergassen, the German-­ speaking Director of the distribution for the right to study, university and scientific research (diritto allo studio, università e ricerca scientifica), he was of the opinion (along with Dr Peter Höllrigl) that the German-speaking schools should reinforce the German language before introducing Italian. For some policy makers there is a need to overcome any potential threats to ‘mixing up’ the German language with Italian and the only way to do that is to slowly introduce the second language after students fully comprehend (both actively and passively) their mother tongue. Even as bi- or multilingualism has become more valued by some members of the German-speaking community, there is a certain amount of scepticism towards immersion education from many German-speaking policy officials. This results in: reservations against bilingual or plurilingual instruction, against immersion instruction and against the co-presence of teachers of German and Italian mother tongues… as second language education is not of central

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interest to the German language group’s political representatives in their linguistic and school-oriented efforts. (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 237)

And yet despite their language efforts, research conducted by Melissa Zambelli and Alessandro Vietti suggests that, regardless of the attempts made by German-speaking school authorities to prevent the German language from ‘mixing’ with Italian, German-speaking South Tyroleans are constantly interfacing with some form of the Italian language. Sometimes this occurs in the most peculiar of places, especially when speaking local dialect. In an undergraduate study at the Università Ca’ Foscari di Venezia in 2003/2004 entitled Interferenze lessicali in situazioni di contatto linguistico: il caso dell’Alto Adige-Südtirol,27 Zambelli went back to her native town of Bozen-Bolzano to look at lexical interference. Her objective was to record how Italian had worked its way into German-speaking South Tyrolean dialect. In an interview with German-speaking friends, she asked them to create a list of as many Italian words as possible. After some negotiation, the first words that came to mind were a list of Italian swear words, notably because German-speaking South Tyroleans have a tendency to swear in Italian. While most German-speaking dialects tend to adopt bits of English into regular forms of informal discourse, in South Tyrol German-speakers adopt bits of Italian, but this adaptation is almost never done in reverse. When I interviewed a colleague, she attested to this use of Italian swear words in German dialect, especially while working in the German-speaking districts where most German-speakers do not speak Italian. When conducting research on two German-speaking students at the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano, Vietti recorded their discussion as they waited outside their class. Speaking in German dialect, the students used Italian predominately when they swore. The swear word cazzo, the Italian word for ‘fuck’ (or ‘dick’, depending on its usage), was used intermittingly throughout the small transcription (Vietti 2009: 236), supporting Zambelli’s observations. Ciccolone also refers to Italian interference, which has worked its way into the South Tyrolean German-speaking vernacular. Words like der

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Karabiniere (or carabiniere for the Italian police force), Aranciata (or ‘orange’ in Italian), Sugo (Italian for ‘juice’) and Peperoni (pepperoni) have surfaced in the German South Tyrolean colloquial language, as well as in local German written texts (see 2010: 57, 59–60).28 Subsequently, Giudiceandrea and Mazza point out that the use of South Tyrolean German dialect is ‘at the expense of a good knowledge of standard German’ (2012: 84).29 The dialect, instead, can come across as ‘“contaminated”’ due to the assimilation of Italian words and expressions, resulting in a situation where South Tyrolean German-speakers do not have ample access to ‘good [spoken] German’ (ibid.). As a result, there were attempts by the Dolomiten, the major South Tyrolean German-speaking newspaper, to hunt down any sign of Italian interference as referred to in the local German dialect. The Dolomiten’s campaign to eradicate Italian from South Tyrolean German was successful almost to a fault as: …many [Italian] interferences disappeared both from official and private language contexts. Yet the fight for purification took its toll also on the South Tyrolean German variety itself, involving not only the language as a system, but also a long lasting attitude towards multilingualism… Language contact came to be viewed as a major source of danger. On the one hand, the importance of second language competences was constantly emphasised, on the other relations with the co-citizens of the Italian linguistic group were viewed as dangerous for the South Tyrolean linguistic and ethnic identity…. (Lanthaler 2007: 228)

Nevertheless, around 2004 ‘a less rigid interpretation of the’ Second Autonomy Statute was ‘confirmed’ by the Italian Constitutional Court, which now permits the official second language to be taught in year one in South Tyrol (see Lanthaler 2007: 228–229). ‘This development is the result of the wish expressed by most German speaking families’ who wanted early second language exposure for their children so that they could learn Italian (see Lanthaler 2007: 229). With the South Tyrolean State Advisory board for German-speaking parents stating in 2015 that more than 77 percent were in favour of increased Italian language

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exposure, the State Advisory board also believed that the use of CLIL was ‘a step in the right direction’.30 However, when it comes to second language acquisition, not everyone agrees with immersion teaching methods, or more specifically the use of the CLIL method, as the best means for second language learning. In an interview with a German-speaking professor at the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano, he thought that the CLIL method had the potential to ‘weed out’ students who were not particularly efficient at learning other languages. In his opinion, immersion teaching techniques require students to become bilingual in a shorter period of time. This can result in more stress for students who are not linguistically inclined to understand other languages, which could cause them to fail out of their regular courses because they are not taught in their mother tongue. From his perspective, the CLIL method favours students who are already advanced in the second language, leaving behind the less effective students by up to 25 percent, defeating the whole purpose of immersion education. Regardless, in a press conference with German-speaking educational provincial councillor, Philipp Achammer, in 2016, linguist Stefania Cavagnoli discussed her results on the use of the CLIL method with German-speaking high school students. After interviews with teachers, and surveys with parents, and students involved in her two-year study, Cavagnoli discovered that their initial concerns towards using CLIL had been ‘unfounded’ as students were able to ‘adequately follow’ their lessons in another language. Furthermore, her results concluded that their ‘initial fears had evaporated’ and that the use of CLIL ‘helped [them] to overcome their fear of communicating and to break down the emotional inhibitions in linguistic exchange[s]’.31 Although former South Tyrolean president, Luis Durnwalder, stated that immersion teaching through the use of CLIL-type methods ‘[would] not be institutionalized’ (Alber 2012: 413), as mentioned above, CLIL was permitted to be used in German-speaking education starting in 2013.32 Other methods in second language learning are also being encouraged into the German-speaking education system. During an interview in Meran-Merano in 2012 with German-speakers Adelheid and Karl, both acknowledged that despite the lack of immersion teaching methods now offered in some German-speaking schools, there was a time

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during their high school education where one history class was taught in Italian. Although the class was considered at the time to be no more than an experiment, it was a step towards immersion education, even if their knowledge of Italian had been limited. Even though opposition towards immersion language teaching has been expressed by some German-speaking politicians, German-speaking education provides opportunities to introduce the Italian language. ‘[P]edagogical principles’ such as the communicative approach, as well as the ‘centrality of the pupil, autonomous learning and learning by discovery’ (see Abel 2007: 241) are methods through which the German-­ speaking education system can teach Italian without using CLIL. That said, other factors in German-speaking education can affect how German-speakers learn Italian. When sitting down with Donna, an Italian-speaking colleague at a café in Meran-Merano, we discussed some concerns that she had as an Italian-speaking teacher at a German-speaking high school. One of the main concerns regarding second language learning is that the German-speaking students speak dialect, unlike in German-­ speaking education, where they are required to have a fluent understanding of High German. As a result, the dialect acts as the students’ mother tongue and High German becomes the second language, which makes second language learning more complicated when German-speaking students also need to learn Italian. With many German-speakers commuting to the cities, they grew up in the mountains and valleys, speaking their local dialects rather than conversing in High German. Once students begin school they have to adjust to a High German-speaking environment. The reality is one in which the German-speaking students are ‘bilingual’ in dialect and to a certain degree, High German, but are monolingual in that they speak a German language variety but are unable to communicate in Italian.33 German-speaking education, therefore, comes with its own myriad of complications as German-speaking students have to linguistically adjust to High German alongside their local dialect.

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 econd Language Instruction in German-Speaking S Education: From Elementary Onto High School Regardless, legislative measures to teach Italian in the early years of German-speaking education start from year one where Italian is only taught one hour per week. In the second and third year Italian is increased to four hours per week, and from year four until year six Italian is taught five hours per week. Unlike Italian-speaking schools, where English is taught starting in year one, instead German-speaking education introduces English beginning in year four, and it is taught two hours per week until year five (Abel 2007: 237; Decreto 2006: 6; see Visser 2017).34 In all three years of middle school, English is taught two to three hours per week, while Italian is taught for four hours per week as part of the school curriculum (Decreto 2006: 6; see Visser 2017).35 Once the students reach high school, depending on the school, Italian is taught four hours per week while English is taught ‘two to four hours per week’ in accordance with provincial legislation (Visser 2017: 20). It is also reported, according to Visser, that ‘some schools [use] the CLIL-­ methodology’ (see ibid.).

 art IV: Dividing Walls and Separate Entrances P in South Tyrolean Schools That said, regardless of the hours of second language instruction in both German- and Italian-speaking schools, Abel states that these results are not sufficient (see 2007: 240) for either language group to certify them as proficient speakers. Even as German-speaking students are reputed to perform better linguistically than Italian-speaking students (see ASTAT 2015: 129, 158), based on fieldwork observations, both language groups speak better English than they do each other’s language. One reason for this development might be due to the establishment of segregated schools, but it also may be the result of the structural lay-out of some educational facilities. During fieldwork, I was told that there were different types of schools that ‘housed’ both German- and

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Italian-speakers, but that these buildings were divided into separate language sections so that the students did not mingle with each other. Unlike the school where I taught English, which was specifically designed as a separate building for Italian-speaking students, some education buildings were required to contain both German- and Italian-speaking students, with the added complication that the groups must stay divided to fulfil the obligation of the statutes. One way to maintain group division is to have both sets of students enter through separate doorways; one entrance is reserved for German-­ speaking students while the other is for Italian-speakers. According to one Italian-speaking high school teacher, this separate door design is intentional to prevent both language groups from conversing with each other to avoid intragroup assimilation. Another structural component to these ‘mixed’ institutions is the historical establishment of dividing walls to separate the German-speaking students from Italian-speaking students whether in the building or on the playground. While these dividing walls are not always implemented, border divisions still remain the same with certain sections of the playground reserved for German-speakers only, while other sections are allocated to Italian-speakers. Even school break times (or pause) are sometimes said to be divided, with break times reserved for German- and Italian-speaking groups. Lunch times are also divided so that students from both groups will not see each other until sometime after school. These separate schooling entrances are similar to building structures in Bosnia and Herzegovina where students enter through separate doors and the curriculum is divided between Croats and Bosniaks. The schools, which were separated to encourage refugees to return after the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina (1992–1995), has resulted in 56 separated school buildings located throughout the country. Despite attempts from two schools to ensure that both ethnicities can study with each other, ‘Several dozen schools in Bosnia are split in two, teaching kids according to their ethnicity. Bosniaks enter through one school gate, Croats through another’ (BBC 2019). According to the Organisation for Security and Co-Operation in Europe, ‘“Two schools under one roof is the most visible example of discrimination in education in Bosnia and Herzegovina”’ (ibid.).

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However, in South Tyrol, Peterlini explains that in the 1980s his bilingual community in Bassa Atesina was linguistically divided in public spaces. The school buildings, libraries, and various associations were separated into linguistic divisions ‘as if to protect students and citizens from a dangerous ethnic disease’, which was the official second language. Even Bassa Atesina’s centre for communal associations, referred to as the Haus Unterland, specifically forbade Italian-speakers from entering its premises, inadvertently promoting segregation (see 2013: 126). Although in 2014 a ‘mixed’ elementary school in the Bozen-Bolzano school district of Firmian-Firmiano was established with no dividing walls, this revolutionary school with a unified school entrance, and joint canteen for both language groups, still required German- and Italian-­ speaking students to attend classes in their respective languages.36 In Meran-Merano in July 2020 in the school district of Sinich-Sinigo, 10 million Euros were spent on a ‘mixed’ elementary school to create joint German- and Italian-speaking areas.37 While admittedly these steps are quite progressive towards establishing a South Tyrolean multilingual school environment, in April 2007 a wall was constructed at ‘a newly built kindergarten in Brixen/Bressanone’ in order to divide the German-­ speaking sections of the school from the Italian-speaking ones. While the canteens were united as well as the playground, a glass door was placed between both schooling sections as a dividing marker in order to separate both language groups (Marko 2008: 386–387). As a result, not all parents were pleased to discover that dividing walls had been placed in their school, but this did not stop the Vice Mayor, Dario Stablum from issuing this statement in the Italian newspaper Corriere della Sera: Personally, I would see it as very positive if the school channels were not separated, but we have to be careful with delicate balances. Here all schools are separated like this. The formula for the new kindergarten reproduces South Tyrolean reality. But the door can be left open: nobody will be admonished for it. (cited in Marko 2008: 387)

Its these schooling policies, which provide an insight into how school authorities respond to reactions from some parents opposed to institutionalised segregation in South Tyrolean schools.

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Nevertheless, there are parents who grew up in the school system and/ or have children in the education sector who have developed certain views towards these demarcation markers and its effects on language learning for their children. Clarissa For Clarissa, from New York, she had several difficulties accepting language tensions within South Tyrol, especially when having to choose whether to place her children into a German- or Italian-speaking school. While working as a translator she came across a website for a German- and Italian-speaking school, which said it was bilingual and located 30 minutes from her home in Meran-Merano. In reading through the informational commentary provided by the parents at the school, the comments read, ‘You wouldn’t believe it! The students can enter through the same door!’ In the end, however, Clarissa and her husband, Ludovico, decided to place their daughter in a ‘mixed’ school where students from both languages studied in the same building, but whose classes were separated based on language. However, segregation permeated through the school despite its reputation in the city, which Clarissa noticed after her daughter’s first day of kindergarten when she saw how students played on the playground. Vittoria’s school has six to seven sections of German-speaking areas and one section that is Italian-speaking. The school has at the back of its building two playground areas that are around the corner from each other. When Vittoria started school she was terrified, of course. Her friend, Markus, was in the German class, which was good because it helped Vittoria know that someone else she knew was nearby. On the first day of school Markus saw her on the playground and he ran to her but as soon as he reached the boundary of the two playgrounds it was like he hit an electric fence and he called for her. He knew he wasn’t supposed to cross over into the Italian playground. Vittoria said that she wanted to play on the German-speaking playground and I had to say to her, “No, you can’t play there. That’s where the kids who speak Nonna’s [her grandmother’s] ­language play and the kids who speak daddy’s language play here”. And

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when I said those words all I could think was “Why are these words coming out of my mouth??”

There were other observations that she made on the playground regarding cultural distinctions between groups in that the German- and Italian-­speaking teachers were responsible for students from their own language ensemble. Even if the German-speaking students were causing lots of noise on the playground, resulting in tons of disruption, Italian-speaking teachers were not permitted to scold the German-­ speaking students. When talking to her friend, Pietro, about the schooling system Clarissa learned that forty years ago his school recruited hall monitors who were placed between both language schooling sections. The monitor would blow a whistle if students crossed over into the hallways of the other language group so that the students remained within their own language section in order to encourage segregation. Even in his town he said that there was an ‘Italian block’ where no German-speakers would buy a house and that although the children in the town wanted to integrate, society made sure the groups remained divided. According to Ludovico, regardless of school attempts by authorities to keep the language groups separated ‘it’s a missed chance that the schools could be bilingual but instead it has to be either or…’ Federica For Federica, her experiences with the South Tyrolean school system were similar to Clarissa’s own observations in that she noticed group divisions when some thirty years ago she placed her son in a ‘mixed’ school environment. But her observations extended beyond the education system when she moved to Bozen-Bolzano from Milan where she recalled how she was treated in the German-speaking districts because she was Italian mother tongue. She remembered that when she entered a German-speaking shop and tried to order something in Italian, the shopkeepers feigned ignorance and refused to use the language even though she knew that they could speak Italian. Today, however, German-­speaking districts in Bozen-Bolzano are guaranteed to be versed in Italian, but when it comes to the school system divisions still remain despite some measures towards more group cohesion.

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As for her son, when he was little, she opted to place him in a kindergarten next to her apartment complex where the first floor of the school was reserved for German-speaking students and the second floor was set aside for Italian-speakers. The school also had a garden located on the grounds where students could play during recess hours, but the break times were divided so that students from both groups did not come in contact during the school day. In her words she stated that ‘there was a deep separation between the two groups’ and that both families and school authorities reinforced this segregation. When she placed her son in an elementary school designed to house Germanand Italian-speakers, separate break times were allotted for each language group, and during lunch the two groups ate at different times. Eventually, when her son’s school decided to restructure the interior of the school’s cafeteria, during renovations some German-speaking teachers did not want the Italian-speaking students to eat alongside the German-speaking students due to limited spacing. Therefore, the Italian-­speaking students were required to have lunch at another school located down the road. In her opinion the school system did not make attempts to encourage intragroup assimilation. Although her son’s school was ‘mixed’, only once in five years did the German- and Italian-speaking students participate in a joint group event. Maurizio When I met with Maurizio in January 2012 at a friend’s apartment after his English lesson, he told me of his life growing up in Bozen-Bolzano and his thoughts about the education system. As a Bolzanino (i.e., a person who is from Bozen-Bolzano), as well as a local pharmacist, in his profession there were German-speaking doctors who would only consult each other for medical advice, and similarly only ate lunch with other German-speakers, akin to what was seen in local schools. With regards to education, he insisted that politicians wanted to keep the language groups divided, implying that this was why the schools were always separated so that children did not converse with one another. He was also of the view that local German-speakers were afraid of their culture disappearing, with many Italian-speakers working their way

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into the province, resulting in a much smaller German-­ speaking minority. In a way he felt that segregation in South Tyrol was similar to South Africa’s apartheid, a reference which was expressed by several South Tyroleans regarding the history of the province. From his perspective there were many things that could be accomplished if the groups worked more in tandem with each other, especially with border integration within Europe as a consequence of Schengen38 based initiatives. But he explained that in South Tyrol the people are ‘not with the times’ as some German-speakers want to maintain social distance because there is a fear that if they learn Italian ‘too well’ their language, culture and identity will die out. Elspet This fear of ‘mixing’ with the other was a comment that I heard throughout the course of my fieldwork. In meeting with Elspet, in her office in Brixen-Bressanone, she told me of her research on the Schützen, a former German-speaking military unit located in South Tyrol (see Chap. 4). Although they no longer function as a part of the army, they ‘are conservative nationalists’ (see Larin and Röggla 2019: 1039) representing a form of local extremism in that they do not like to socialise with Italian-speakers and want to keep the German-speaking language and culture pure. Their outfits, which consist of lederhosen for the men and dirndls for the women, are identifying markers that distinguish them from Italian-speakers who would not normally dress in South Tyrolean costumes. In an interview she told me how she interviewed the women and asked them what they thought of the Italian-speakers and if it would make sense to assimilate with them, since many of them lived within the region. One German-speaking woman from the Schützen party said that ‘mixing is like an Indian sari. You should never mix the colours lest they become brown and ugly. You should let the colours stand-­ alone so that they can be beautiful’. At the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano, where Elspet worked with German-­speaking students, they were required to take courses in Italian, as the university is trilingual. At times they would come to her in tears because they found speaking publicly in Italian to be a chal-

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lenge. Despite their many years of learning the official second language she felt there was a ‘block’ that prevented second language acquisition, and that the division markers that were placed in schools may have contributed towards this language learning problem. When Elspet was younger these division markers were fences and were placed systematically in schools. They were ‘politically wanted’ so that students from both groups could not converse with each other. The fences also functioned as a symbol of fear, preventing students from trans-lingual interactions, and caused additional problems for those bilingual families who linguistically could ‘fit’ on either side. With Elspet referring to a ‘fault with the school system’, most likely due to these division markers, this, in turn, raises the question whether dividing walls and separate schooling entrances have a lasting effect on how students learn another language. Axel That said, her views were vastly different from Axel’s perspective, who grew up and worked in the South Tyrol region. An historian, he thought that South Tyrol’s school system did not impact students’ relations with each other. As a German-speaking student in the 1960s, he felt that mixing between students was a non-issue. Similar to comments made by Hans Karl Peterlini when he referred to his school years in Bassa Atesina (see 2013: 37), neither of them felt that South Tyrol’s separate school system prevented them from playing with Italian-speakers. In the 1970s, when he moved from Val Pusteria, a predominately German-­ speaking valley, to Bozen-Bolzano, Axel found that after school he could mix with other students and that was how he came to learn Italian. Rather than the schooling system functioning as a hindrance preventing him from learning Italian, his parents encouraged him to meet with other Italian-speakers, which he did outside of regular school hours. This open interaction was a ‘free marketplace’ where the demarcations ceased to exist so that second language learning was a natural experience as children interfaced through social play. This play-based language learning mirrored research conducted by linguistic anthropologist Mark Turin, who studied how South African

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c­ hildren could learn several native languages just by communication on the school playground (2012). As for the language barriers inside the school buildings, Axel believed that students were resilient and could move past these social markers as long as German- and Italian-speaking students had common points of interest. Through these interviews I learned how each of my informants interpreted the education system. While not everyone opposed the dividing walls and separate entrances, there was a noticeable shift amongst informants towards considering ways to re-structure the school system to make it more inclusive. With Clarissa explaining there were students from both groups who wanted to co-mingle with each other, this speaks to the willingness of German- and Italian-speakers to want to work beyond the segregated system. *** In addition, I conducted a further set of interviews with informants on the education system to gain their perspectives on South Tyrolean schools when it comes to second language instruction. My interviews with German- and Italian-speakers produced a very diverse set of opinions over whether they thought that the education system prepared its students for multilingual education. In some instances, some thought that the school system was necessary to maintain linguistic and cultural preservation. Others thought that the school system promoted further separation, defeating the whole point of the trilingual university (Free University of Bozen-Bolzano). Therefore, I tried to concentrate on three main interviews with respect to second language acquisition to provide the reader with a sense of the varied responses, which reflect concerns expressed by South Tyroleans. Beatrix: When talking with Beatrix about the complex schooling system, she insisted when it came to education, successful second language ­learning

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depended on three elementary components: (1) there needed to be sufficient psychological motivation to encourage students (2) as well as good teacher quality and (3) perseverance in order for students to learn the second language. As a student who grew up in the German-speaking school system from elementary onto high school, Beatrix excelled in Italian while in middle school because the Italian language programme was advanced. The residential Catholic school in her district was run by nuns who had a strict curriculum. As a result, the quality of Italian language instruction was of a high calibre, so much so that the students learned advanced Italian grammar before they left for high school. Although Beatrix admitted that her elementary school years were spent in a ‘mixed’ school building, this did not seem to affect her ability or her interest in learning the Italian language. In high school, because her language skills were still advanced, she did not have to study Italian as much as the other students. That said, the first two years of Italian were taught by ‘insufficient’ teachers, so that when she reached her third year of high school, her Italian teacher had to make up for lost time by giving extra class work to the third-­ year students. As for language exchanges between other local schools, like Un anno in L2 (see Chap. 7), these were not an option, which she thinks would have benefited the students at the time. While she did not necessarily support bilingual education, there was something to be said for group exchanges, especially amongst the South Tyrolean schools so students could practice each other’s language. The belief that the minority should be educated in its minority language is completely justified, but how it is administered is what I would question… the school boards should decide how to become more intercultural in favouring the other languages for integration and language learning. I went to “Italy” [an expression German-speakers use whenever they leave South Tyrol] when I was maybe 15 or 16 years old. For two summers in a row, I went to language schools there because I wanted more than I got from the system in South Tyrol. So, I went for three weeks to Florence and

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then three weeks to Ravenna. But such things should not be done privately. They should be guided by the school boards for ALL South Tyrolean schools.

In her opinion, the separate school systems should ‘talk’ with one another to encourage group relations in the region. Dr Günther Andergassen: When I met with Dr Andergassen, he was quite passionate about the German-speaking education system and the importance of ensuring students learn their mother tongue before they learn another language. A by-product of the war-torn history of the province, he knew the affects that language had had on his father, who was forced to learn Italian and never properly learned High German, meaning that he was illiterate in both. Subsequently, Andergassen was a vocal advocate of promoting a ‘separate but equal’ education system, insisting that the language teachers should be of mother tongue so that students could develop their proficiency. Donna: Donna, on the other hand, thought that the education system was not realistic. A strong proponent of CLIL and immersion education, she thought that students needed more language exposure. If students only had four hours per week of the official second language, she believed that they would never become multilingual. According to Lightbrown and Spada: School programmes should be based on realistic estimates of how long it takes to learn a second language. One or two hours a week will not produce very advanced second language speakers, no matter how young they were when they began. (1999: 68)

To become ‘native-like’, students should be ‘completely surrounded by the [second] language as early as possible’ (ibid.). Therefore, despite a desire by some civilians for a ‘mixed experience’ in South Tyrolean education, Donna felt that politicians were preventing this progression from happening inside the education system.

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Based on these interviews and other observations, I noticed a diversity of responses with some locals in support of monolingual education, while others looked for better second language learning opportunities (see Chap. 7 for a more detailed discussion). This resulted in a society where appeasing all its members was not easy when rectifying the school system. That said, the unifying factor in all of these perspectives is that each person wanted a strong schooling system in order to promote South Tyrol’s varied languages, cultures and identities. What has yet to be determined is whether the schooling system can be modified to prepare local students for the multilingual aspects of certain parts of the job market, especially within the civil service. Consequently, it was felt by some members of the community that there should be a schooling option for students searching for bi- or multilingual education to prepare them for a multilingual environment. While at present Ladin-speaking education promotes a form of multilingual learning, the schooling system is reserved for those who grow up in the Ladin-speaking valleys of Val Gardena and Val Badia. As a result, Giudiceandrea and Mazza suggest that it is time to modify the three-part schooling system by providing an added bilingual language option to help South Tyrolean students. Students could still be taught in their mother tongue, but in the last years of education they could have their classes taught in German and Italian when their mother tongue is ‘consolidated’ (2012: 96–97). However, the management of such a school would at a minimum require the collaboration of the German- and Italian-speaking education offices, not to mention several years to prepare incoming teachers for the requirements of their unique positions (see Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 97–98 for more information).39 Therefore, until the opportunity arises for students to have a multilingual education system, Giudiceandrea and Mazza suggest schooling alternatives that can be used within the segregated school system. From their perspective, language learning should not be limited to the confines of the second language classroom in that the teacher should prepare students for second language usage once on the streets with other language speakers. In addition, the teacher should set an example by demonstrating their comfort in living in two cultures, so that students can learn to be more open to differences and live within a plurilingual context (2012:

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99–100). In the words of Wyner, ‘If you want to learn a language efficiently, then you need to give that language life’ (2017). This means that language teachers should try to ‘introduce [students] to the culture of the [other language] group’, which may involve school exchanges and ‘the reading of local authors and helping [students] to get familiar with the local press’ (see Vettori Ebner 2016: 31). Furthermore, Fiori adds, according to the results of the KOLPISI II report, that ‘the teaching in schools “cannot be the only instruction” for learning the second language’ (2017). Instead: it is necessary to increase the daily relevancy of the second language…to stimulate contacts with contemporaries, using the language, to find the courage to throw yourself out there to try to understand with interest and enthusiasm the language of the other. (Fiori 2017)

‘The responsibility is up to the schools, but in equal measure’ the responsibility also lies with politicians, families, and young people (ibid.). While students should learn not to be afraid of making mistakes when adjusting to new words in the second language, students should also take advantage by practicing the language daily through tandem exchanges or sports events within their own community (Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 103, 107). Alongside more attempts to try to find ways to immerse themselves in the second language, it is important to recognise additional South Tyrolean factors which effect how locals and students learn another language. These factors are not just tied to topographical distribution between rural German-speakers and city-dwelling Italian-speakers but are also tied to one’s identity as ‘victims’ or ‘conquerors’ when growing up in a contested border region.

Notes 1. It is worth restating that the Ladin-speaking school system is much more inclusive of students from German- and Italian-speaking backgrounds. This is discussed in greater depth in my doctoral thesis (see link below).

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However, for the purposes of this book it will be referred to as one of the three ‘separate but equal’ schooling systems. 2. The italics are from Lepschy et al. (see 1996: 77). 3. More information on the Ladin-speaking school system can be found in my doctoral thesis, Half spaghetti half Knödel: cultural division through the lens of language learning (2016): https://ora.ox.ac.uk/objects/ uuid:d6391d08-­30ea-­4b78-­8fce-­c7ac684eb74a/download_file?file_ format=pdf&safe_filename=THESIS01&type_of_work=Thesis [Accessed 19 August 2022]. 4. These are very generalised descriptions of both school systems as disciplinary measures can vary from school to school, and teacher to teacher. However, personal observations and interlocutor interviews did indicate a noticeable trend differentiating disciplinary measures in Germanspeaking schools versus Italian-speaking schools. 5. A more detailed account on the ‘package of measures’ can be found on the South Tyrolean Provincial Website on Mehrsprachigkeit 2016–2020 (Südtiroler Landesverwaltung  2018): http://www.provinz.bz.it/land/ landesregierung/achammer/mehrsprachigkeit/mehrsprachigkeit. asp#content [Accessed 5 March 2021]. 6. For more information on Patricia Kuhl’s work on second language learning see ‘The linguistic genius of babies’ at: http://www.ted.com/talks/ patricia_kuhl_the_linguistic_genius_of_babies?language=en#t-­79134 [Accessed 16 December 2020]. 7. This is based on personal communication with a South Tyrolean German-­speaking educator in November 2020. 8. This was taken from Böckler’s unpublished paper, What can we learn from others? The case of South Tyrol, which was presented at a conference on ‘Regions and Minorities in a Greater Europe, Bressanone/Brixen, September 2000’ (cited in Marko 2008: 387–388). 9. Similar conclusions were drawn by Masillo et al. (2021) when quoting work by Dal Negro (2017), stating that ‘South Tyrol describes itself as a bilingual community’ (Masillo et al. 2021: 235) but in reality, it is ‘“more appropriate to speak of two potentially monolingual linguistic communities”’ (Dal Negro 2017: 60 cit. in Masillo et al. 2021: 235). 10. Evidence of this was made apparent while teaching English at an Italianspeaking high school in South Tyrol from September 2011 to May 2012. Out of 20 students ranging in age from 16 to 18 years old, only two of them stated that they were indeed bilingual-speaking because their

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­ arents were from both German- and Italian-speaking backgrounds. The p rest of the students stated that they were more monolingual-speaking because both sets of parents came from Italian-speaking backgrounds. 11. As of the writing of this book there is only one other multilingual school that I am aware of located in Bozen-Bolzano, the Istituto Marcelline Bolzano, which teaches in three languages (English, Italian, and German) starting in kindergarten. See their website (2018) for more details: https://www.marcellinebolzano.it/ [Accessed 17 August 2022]. 12. For more information see Vettori and Abel (2021). 13. For more information on multilingual education options in South Tyrol, particularly in the German-speaking school system, see the South Tyrolean Provincial Website on Mehrsprachigkeit 2016–2020 (Südtiroler Landesverwaltung  2018), available at: http://www.provinz.bz.it/land/ landesregierung/achammer/mehrsprachigkeit/mehrsprachigkeit. asp#content [Accessed 5 March 2021]. 14. This is based on personal communication with an Italian-speaking high school teacher in April 2020. 15. Levels C1 (advanced) and C2 (mastery) in a foreign language are based on the Common European Framework of References for Languages (CEFR), which was set by the Council of Europe. For a better understanding of each of the levels, see the British Council website for more information: https://www.britishcouncil.pt/en/our-­levels-­and-­cefr [Accessed 16 December 2021]. 16. See the Provincial Autonomy of Bozen-Bolzano’s Deliberazione della Giunta Provinciale 8 July 2013 No. 1034 for further information. 17. For more information see Indicazioni provinciali per la definizione dei curricoli relativi alla scuola primaria e alla scuola secondaria di primo grado negli istituti di lingue italiana della provincia di Bolzano, 2009. (Nr. 1928) 18. Ibid. 19. For more information see the South Tyrolean Provincial guidelines on English language instruction in Italian-speaking schools (Dipartimento Istruzione e Formazione Italiana  2017/2018): http://www.provincia. bz.it/formazione-­l ingue/didattica-­f ormazione-­d ocenti/downloads/ linee_guida_inglese_L3.pdf [Accessed 10 March 2021]. 20. Ibid. 21. For more information see Indicazioni provinciali per la definizione dei curricoli relativi alla scuola primaria e alla scuola secondaria di primo grado negli istituti di lingue italiana della provincia di Bolzano, 2009. (Nr. 1928)

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22. Interlocutors told me as recently as 2021 that ‘each school in South Tyrol is different’ regarding how they choose to implement second language learning opportunities for their students. 23. This is based on personal communication with Italian-speaking teachers and parents in 2020 and 2021. 24. This is based on personal communication with a German-speaking teacher in December 2020. 25. This is based on personal communication with an Italian-speaking teacher in April 2020. 26. This is based on personal communication with an English-speaking parent in March 2021. 27. ‘Lexical interferences in situations of linguistic contact: the case of South Tyrol’ (personal translation) 28. For more examples of Italian lexical interference in colloquial South Tyrolean German see Eichinger (2002: 145). 29. For the purposes of this book, I will not be discussing the lexical or varying definitions between ‘standard German’ or ‘High German’. Instead, I will be using both terms interchangeably. 30. For more information see Landesbeirat der Eltern nimmt Stellung zu CLIL in der Bildungsreform (Südtiroler Landesverwaltung  2016b): http://www.provinz.bz.it/land-­forstwirtschaft/landwirtschaft/aktuelles. asp?aktuelles_action=4&aktuelles_article_id=543529 [Accessed 22 March 2021]. 31. For more information see CLIL-Unterricht: Evaluation zeigt positives Bild (Südtiroler Landesverwaltung  2016a): http://www.provinz.bz.it/news/ de/news.asp?news_action=4&news_article_id=533919 [Accessed 12 March 2021]. 32. See the Provincial Autonomy of Bozen-Bolzano’s Deliberazione della Giunta Provinciale 8 July 2013 No. 1034 for further information. 33. This is not the case for every single German-speaking student in South Tyrol, however, this was a concern that came up quite frequently during fieldwork. More information regarding the use of dialect in South Tyrol will be discussed in Chap. 6. 34. For more information see Rahmenrichtlinien des Landes für die Festlegung der Curricula für die Grundschule und die Mittelschule an den autonomen deutschsprachigen Schulen in Südtirol (Nr. 81) (2009: 7). 35. See Rahmenrichtlinien des Landes für die Festlegung der Curricula für die Grundschule und die Mittelschule an den autonomen deutschsprachigen Schulen in Südtirol (Nr. 81) (2009: 10).

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36. For more information see Bolzano: alla scuola ‘Alex Langer’ italiani e tedeschi assieme (Mattioli 2014): https://www.altoadige.it/cronaca/bolzano/ bolzano-­alla-­scuola-­alex-­langer-­italiani-­e-­tedeschi-­assieme-­1.148690 [Accessed 15 March 2021] and Iniziate le lezioni anche nella nuova scuola Langer nel quartiere Firmian (Provincia Autonoma di Bolzano- Alto Adige: News Ufficio Stampa  2014): http://www.provinz.bz.it/news/it/ news.asp?news_action=4&news_article_id=469999 [Accessed 15 March 2021]. 37. For more information see Non più pause e ingressi a scuola separati etnicamente (RTTR Alto Adige  2020): https://www.facebook. com/1542602846/posts/10223041437494683/?sfnsn=scwspmo&extid =yXRVwmgdOvflWVhB&d=n&vh=e [Accessed 16 March 2021]. 38. ‘Schengen’ refers to the Schengen Agreement or ‘Schengen Area’, which permits the ‘[f ]ree movement of persons’ across borders zones within the EU (with some exceptions). It allows EU citizens to ‘travel, work and live in any EU country without special formalities’. For more information see the European Commission’s Migration and Home Affairs page (n.d.) at https://ec.europa.eu/home-­affairs/what-­we-­do/policies/borders-­and-­ visas/schengen_en#:~:text=Free%20movement%20of%20persons%20 enables,being%20subject%20to%20border%20checks./ [Accessed 19 January 2021]. 39. In 2017, Senator Francesco Palermo suggested modifying aspects of the Second Autonomy Statute concerning immersion education through the creation of multilingual spaces in the three-part education system, where teaching and multilingual contact could occur in German, Italian, and foreign languages ‘without limiting…the guarantee’ of protecting the South Tyrolean linguistic minorities (see Palermo 2017 for more information).

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language acquisition in the minority-majority context of South Tyrol. European Yearbook of Minority Issues 9: 271–304. Alber, E. 2012. South Tyrol’s education system: Plurilingual answers for monolinguistic spheres? L’Europe en formation 1 (363): 399–415. Alber, E., and F.  Palermo. 2012. Creating, studying and experimenting with bilingual law in South Tyrol: Lost in interpretation? In Bilingual higher education in the legal context: Group rights, state policies and globalisation, ed. X. Arzoz. Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. Ch. 11. Alcock, A. 2001. The South Tyrol autonomy: A short introduction. Bozen/Bolzano: County Londonberry. Artigal, J. 1993. Il significato di un programma di immersione. In La curiosità linguistica: contribuiti all’educazione bilingue, ed. B. Gramegna and R. Fronza, 99–103. Bolzano: Frasnelli Keitsch Editrice. ASTAT. 2015. Barometro linguistico dell’Alto Adige: uso della lingua e identità linguistica in provincia di Bolzano 2014. [e-book] Bolzano: ASTAT. Available through: DocPlayer website. Accessed 22 July 2021. http://docplayer. org/130231815-­Barometro-­linguistico-­dell-­alto-­adige.html. Baur, S., and R.  Medda-Windischer. 2008. The education system in South Tyrol. In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol, ed. J. Woelk, F. Palermo, and J. Marko. Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. Ch. 13. BBC. 2019. The pupils speaking out against segregation in schools. [video online]. Accessed 24 March 2021. https://www.bbc.com/news/av/world-­europe-­ 48840211. Boschi, M. 2019a. Assalto alla Fortezza per un sì alla scuola bilingue. AltoAdigeinnovazione. [online], April 20. Accessed 29 March 2021. https:// www.altoadigeinnovazione.it/fortezza-­bis/. ———. 2019b. Laives, quasi Bolzano: l’enclave italiana alla ricerca di identità (e di una piazza). AltoAdigeinnovazione. [online], October 10. Accessed 29 March 2021. https://www.altoadigeinnovazione.it/laives/. British Council. 2021. Our levels and the CEFR. [online], Accessed 16 December 2021. https://www.britishcouncil.pt/en/our-­levels-­and-­cefr. Ciccolone, S. 2010. Lo standard tedesco in Alto Adige: l’orientamento alla norma dei tedescofoni sudtirolesi. Milan: Edizioni Universitarie di Lettere Economia Diritto. Corni, E. 2013. Tommasini: “Bisogna guardare ai giovani”. Salto.bz. [online]. Accessed 6 October 2022. https://www.salto.bz/de/article/01082013/ tommasini-­bisogna-­guardare-­ai-­giovani

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co.uk/Spaesati-­Italiani-­S%C3%BCdtirol-­Lucio-­Giudiceandrea-­ebook/dp/ B014LH7E9C. Giudiceandrea, L., and A. Mazza. 2012. Stare insieme è un’arte: vivere in Alto Adige/Südtirol. Meran/Merano: Edizioni alphabeta Verlag. Hannum, H. 1996. Autonomy, sovereignty, and self-determination: The accommodation ofconflicting rights. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Hell, E. 2008a. Disallineamenti. Bilinguismo a Bolzano, [blog] August 16. Accessed 22 March 2021. http://www.gebi.bz.it/bilinguismo/?p=88. ———. 2008b. Sezioni miste. Bilinguismo a Bolzano, [blog] May 18. Accessed 22 March 2021. http://www.gebi.bz.it/bilinguismo/?p=8. Indicazioni provinciali per la definizione dei curricoli relativi alla scuola primaria e alla scuola secondaria di primo grado negli istituti di lingua italiana della provincia di Bolzano. 2009. (Nr. 1928) Bolzano: Provincia Autonomia di Bolzano-Alto Adige. Kager, T. 1998. South Tyrol: Mitigated but not resolved. Online journal of peace and conflict resolution [online]. Accessed 15 September 2020. http://xoomer. virgilio.it/angelo1951/journal.htm. Kaplan, D.H. 1999. Conflict and compromise among borderland identities in northern Italy. Tijdschrift voor Economische en Sociale Geografie 91 (1): 44–60. Kuhl, P. 2010. The linguistic genius of babies. TED: Ideas worth spreading. [video online]. Accessed 22 March 2021. https://www.ted.com/talks/patricia_kuhl_ the_linguistic_genius_of_babies?language=en#t-­79134. Lanthaler, F. 2007. The German language in South Tyrol- some sociolinguistic aspects. In Aspects of multilingualism in European border regions: Insights and views from Alsace, eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol, ed. A.  Abel, M.  Stuflesser, and L.  Voltmer, 220–234. Eurac Research. Larin, S., and M. Röggla. 2019. Participatory consociationalism? No, but South Tyrol’s Autonomy Convention is evidence that power-sharing can transform conflicts. Nations and Nationalism 25 (3): 1018–1041. Lask, T. 1994. ‘Baguette heads’ and ‘spiked helmets’: Children’s constructions of nationality at the German-French border. In Border approaches: Anthropological perspectives on frontiers, ed. H. Donnan and T. Wilson. University Press of America. Ch. 5. Lepschy, A., G. Lepschy, and M. Voghera. 1996. Linguistic variety in Italy. In Italian regionalism: History, identity and politics, ed. C. Levy. Berg Publishers. Lightbrown, P., and N. Spada. 1999. How languages are learned. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

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Magliana, M. 2000. The autonomous province of South Tyrol: A model of self-­ governance? Bozen/Bolzano: Europäische Akademie Bozen. Marko, J. 2008. Is there a South Tyrolean ‘model’ of conflict resolution to be exported? In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol, ed. J. Woelk, F. Palermo, and J. Marko. Leiden and Boston: Matinus Nighoff publishers. Ch.19. Masillo, P., A.  Gelo, A.  Nasimi, and G.  Peri. 2021. L’italiano nelle scuole di lingua tedesca: un progetto per la rilevazione delle competenze linguistiche degli studenti nella Provincia Autonoma di Bolzano. In Lingue in contatto e linguistica applicata: individui e società, ed. M.E.  Favilla and S.  Machetti, 215–238. Milano: AltLA. Mattioli, A. 2014. Bolzano: alla scuola ‘Alexander Langer’ italiani e tedeschi assieme. Alto Adige. [online]. Accessed 15 March 2021. https:// www.altoadige.it/cronaca/bolzano/bolzano-­a lla-­s cuola-­a lex-­l anger-­ italiani-­e-­tedeschi-­assieme-­1.148690. Nacamulli, M. 2015. The benefits of a bilingual brain. TED-Ed. [video online]. Accessed 24 March 2021. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= MMmOLN5zBLY. Nolet, C. 1984. La scuola nello statuto di autonomia. In La storia dell’alto adige, 63–70. Istituto magistrale ‘Giovanni Pascoli’ Bolzano. Oberhammer, M. 2007. Languages in South Tyrol: Historical and legal aspects. In Aspects of multilingualism in European border regions: Insights and views from Alsace, eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol, ed. A. Abel, M. Stuflesser, and L. Voltmer, 201–219. Eurac Research. Palermo, F. 2012. Alto Adige: il futuro alle luce del decennio passato. Bozen: Eurac Research. ———. 2017. S. 2701 Disegno di legge costituzionale d’iniziativa del senatore Palermo: modifica allo statuto speciale per il Trentino-Alto Adige/Südtirol in materia di Scuola. [pdf ] Parlamento Italiano. Accessed 27 October 2022. http://www.gebi.bz.it/files/DDL%20%20Costituzionale%20modifica%20 art%2019%20statuto.pdf. Pallaver, G. 2014. South Tyrol’s changing political system: From dissociative on the road to associate conflict resolution. The Journal of Nationalism and Ethnicity 42 (3): 376–398. Peterlini, O. 1997. Autonomy and the protection of the ethnic minorities in Trentino-South Tyrol: An overview of the history, law and politics. Vienna: Braumüller. Peterlini, H. 2013. Noi figli dell’autonomia: Alto Adige/Südtirol oltre il disorientamento etnico. Meran/Merano: Edizioni alphabeta Verlag.

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6 Language Learning ‘Blocks’: Its Victims and Its Conquerors

It was 9am on a Tuesday morning and I was running late for work. Before leaving for fieldwork, my mother had insisted that I invest in a wheelie laptop bag. ‘With all that walking from Eurac to the school, you’ll be thankful that you bought yourself one of these!’, and yet with all the obstacles on the sidewalk that morning, I wondered if flying would have been easier. I just had just turned the corner heading towards Eurac when I saw a large, white van parked on the cracked sidewalk blocking my path. ‘Of course’, I grumbled to myself as I was forced to walk around the van into flowing traffic. As I swerved to avoid an oncoming car, I jumped back onto the sidewalk only to barely avoid stepping into a pile of doggie waste; a sight which I noticed only existed in the Italian-speaking parts of Bozen-­ Bolzano. Despite my heavy load of stationary, books, a laptop, and my lunch, I started to consider whether a backpack would have been a better alternative… —Fieldwork observations, 2011

Ten years ago, when I sifted through my fieldwork notes, I remember trying to remain objective, but it was obvious that subjectivity was present through much of my doctoral research. Given that Bozen-Bolzano is largely divided into German- and Italian-speaking quarters, I noticed I had developed negative opinions towards the Italian-speaking parts of the city. With the German-speaking quarters appearing generally much © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 A. Wand, Segregation in Language Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-32747-6_6

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cleaner and their sidewalks noticeably better paved, it was difficult not to feel a sense of resentment towards Italian inefficiency. One evening I called my husband (then partner) to lament my concerns about my frustrations. I explained how I felt like Italian-speakers were ‘selfish’ and had a ‘rat pack’ mentality, and that German-speakers could sometimes be socially closed-minded and disinterested in speakers of foreign languages. With hindsight, I realise that these biased observations were based merely on personal irritations, a common affliction amongst almost all anthropologists adjusting to cultural norms. As I started to become accustomed to the cultural nuances of the region, I met South Tyroleans who clearly did not fit the stereotypes mentioned above. Moreover, as I continued my fieldwork observations and transitioned to interviews, certain patterns emerged in individuals’ responses when asked to give their thoughts on language learning in the province. While my initial research was designed to try to understand why German- and Italian-speakers may not speak each other’s language, my first inclination was to assume both language groups strongly disliked each other. However, I soon learned that my reasoning was flawed after meeting with a local anthropologist, who informed me that terms like ‘dislike’ were not commonly used to refer to another South Tyrolean language group. As South Tyrolean communities from all three official language groups (i.e., the German-, Italian-, and Ladin-speakers) intermarry and work with each other, I was advised to avoid placing my informants’ views into three categories based on language. By presuming that German-, Italian- and Ladin-speakers maintained their own group perspectives, I was told that I would run the risk of assuming broad generalisations, which may not be there. I might also be inclined to develop a simplistic view of a rather complex situation surrounding second language learning issues outside of school and in the area. After analysing over fifty interviews, I learned that other factors impact language as informants told me about additional influences, which they believed effected second language learning. These nine other ‘factors’ vary in range from ‘victimhood’ to language learning ‘blocks’, but provide another means to understanding how a language is acquired (or not) in response to local ‘others’. Moreover, these factors function as additional layers, which may explain social relations in the region and describe the

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sometimes-hidden societal complexities that come with living in a multilingual province. They also provide a further understanding of the challenges that South Tyroleans face as they try to address segregation in society, the lack of ‘mixing’ between groups, and political diplomacy.

The Language Learning ‘Block’ When I initially set about conducting interviews, rather than provide a set of questions, I asked my informants their opinions on the ‘separate but equal’ schooling system. Over time, this informal approach led to further topics concerning second language acquisition, one of which resulted in an interview with one of my former Italian-speaking students, whom I will call Ashley. We were sitting on a train heading towards the city of Verona to introduce her to a friend, as Ashley was interested in robotics engineering and my friend was a robotics engineer. During our journey I asked what she thought the reasons were for second language learning issues in South Tyrol, and she put her hand on her chest and said that South Tyrolean students have a language learning ‘block’. This self-­ imposed, psychological response system was internal and, in her view, prevented second language learning. Intrigued, I asked her to explain in further detail what she meant by this language learning ‘block’. Raised in the Province of Trento, on the border with South Tyrol, she informed me that when she first moved to Bozen-Bolzano, she noticed contrasts between the Italian-speaking Bolzanini students and Italian-speaking students who came from the Trentino. When I go to Germany, I have no problem speaking German, but when I’m in South Tyrol…I don’t know…for South Tyrolean Italian-speakers, they have a blocked side and they don’t want to speak German even if they can, which I find very strange…

For many Italian-speaking Bolzanini students attending courses in Bozen-Bolzano, there is a psychological inhibition that some locals felt discouraged second language acquisition (see Wand 2016). It was this

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‘block’ that prevented them from learning German, as opposed to those Italian-speaking students who grew up in other regions of the Italian state, unexposed to negative sentiments towards German. According to Ashley, the ‘block’ in Bozen-Bolzano existed for a variety of reasons, largely due to past linguistic social tensions, as opposed to the Trentino province. Therefore, Italian-speaking students who grew up in the Trentino showed a greater willingness to learn German and were generally more accepting of the German-speaking population. When I interviewed Teresa, a student at the Free University of Bozen-­ Bolzano, she agreed with Ashley’s comments that local prejudices affected language learning in the province where Italian-speakers had a negative ‘mentality’ towards learning German. Having studied German from an early age in the Trentino, Teresa admitted that the Italian school system had gained a reputation for insufficient second language teaching. It was only through persistence and a natural inclination towards the German language that she was able to develop her German fluency by learning German outside of school. When she applied to the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano, she wanted to improve her German while still attending an Italian university. As a result of her being an Italian native speaker proficient in the German language, she was one of the few Italian-speakers in her class who had both German- and Italian-speaking friends. In her opinion, this language ‘block’, from the Italian-speaking perspective, was because German was difficult to learn. Despite the fact that she thought German- and Italian-­ speakers were becoming less linguistically divided, the perceived unfamiliarity and complexity of the German language was a challenge for Italian-speakers to overcome. In addition, it was felt by a German language professor at the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano that it was the fault of the students, and their parents in not encouraging language use at home that prevented second language learning. Furthermore, he believed that the Italian-­ speaking school system’s focus on grammar and memorisation skills had interfered with students being able to understand the deeper purpose behind learning another language. From his perspective, language teachers in Italian-speaking schools were unhelpful and unwilling to ‘think outside the box’. Instead, these teachers were reluctant to consider other

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methods of second language teaching and these elements were creating an education system that deterred students from second language learning. This meant that Italian-speaking students were unable to see the application behind learning another language because they had not learned the skills necessary to apply the official second language to a wider social context (Wand 2016). According to Artigal, ‘When one learns a second or third language, one does not learn only the language, but [also] learns to recognise many things that go beyond the language’ (1993: 100). Grammatical and pragmatic approaches to second language learning ‘are not different things, but rather two moments of a unique process’ (Artigal 1993: 103), both of which aim to teach the linguistic structure of a language while exposing students to other cultures. For Giudiceandrea and Mazza, in South Tyrolean education, too much focus is spent on accuracy, and this obsession with precision can hinder students’ efforts to improve their own linguistic fluency. Therefore, in order to encourage linguistic fluency, one should expose students to another language by providing them with context to use the language ‘freely’ without the fear of making mistakes (see 2012: 102–103 for more information). In addition, schools should train students to ‘throw themselves’ into real-life situations (see Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 104) so that students are encouraged to practice listening, speaking, reading and writing in the other language. Furthermore, Italian-speakers who are hesitant to practice speaking in German, should seek out a native South Tyrolean German-speaker and ask to converse in their language. While it is common for German-­ speakers to switch to Italian when talking with Italian-speakers, Italian-­ speakers should use German instead of reserving it for the German language classroom. Afterall, states Robert et al., ‘[u]sing a foreign language is not experienced as a social practice until students find themselves in an environment where the [second] language is all around them…’ (2001: 9). When examining alternatives over what could cause this language learning ‘block’, Dr Christian Tommasini implied in his 2012 interview that this ‘block’ could be the result of parents’ influences on their children. If students thought the relations between German- and

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Italian-­speakers were hostile or disrupted in some way, research ‘suggests that children form their own opinions on intergroup relations in the Province of Bolzano within the family’ (Abel et al. 2012c: 70). In the case of Tommasini, his parents were Italian nationalists and thought negatively of the German-speaking group. However, Tommasini stepped away from their adverse social conventions and married a German-speaking South Tyrolean. He also became an advocate of bilingual language teaching for children in the South Tyrolean school system. Even though he was aware that there were locals who were reluctant to accept language assimilation policies, he identified a need for the community to move past this language ‘block’ to create more integration (Wand 2016). When I spoke with a historian about concerns regarding second language learning in South Tyrol, he explained that there are young South Tyroleans who understand the importance of second language acquisition. There is a desire by some students to have a ‘foreign experience’ with those who speak another language, but in order to bridge the cultural gaps in South Tyrolean society, the community must become multilingual. There are a lot of young Italian mammoni [i.e., mamma’s boys] who always stay at home and are afraid of leaving Italy. These young Italians come from a cultural world that is trying to slow down the progress towards having a European identity. This has been an issue for many, many years. Here, specifically in South Tyrol, it would be better if we could [encourage multilingualism] by doing bilingual classes (some in German, some in English), like the Ladin-speakers do in their school system.

In addition, he recognised that the Ladin-speaking schools had a multilingual advantage. Since the Ladin-speakers’ multilingual proficiency is acknowledged amongst both German- and Italian-speakers, he felt that the language learning ‘block’ could be prevented if the second language was introduced at a younger age. ‘If a child gets used to learning to speak in more languages…they are capable of learning more languages.’ Although the German- and Italian-speaking school systems introduce the

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official second language starting in year one, the learning of Italian for German-speakers ‘is [still] loaded with historical, sociological and psychological preconceptions’ (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 241), which could result in a language learning ‘block’. Consequently, the ‘Free Choice’ option in local education (an item, which is addressed in Chap. 5) has provided parents with an alternative to monolingual learning by placing their children in a school of their own preference. Although this concept of ‘Free Choice’ comes with political complications, many children attend schools in another language. While some parents would prefer not to expose their children to the official second language, German-speaking politician, Dr Andergassen estimated that ‘out of 5,000 people, only five would choose not to have their children learn another language, and those people are usually politicians’ (Wand 2016). Since children in South Tyrol are given a choice as to which school they would like to attend, Dr Andergassen believed that this ‘Free Choice’ reduces the language learning ‘block’ to some extent. If the ‘Free Choice’ option were to be replaced with multilingual schools, then students would be ‘forced’ to attend courses in the second language. ‘It is about equality for everyone’, continued Andergassen, ‘and if students have the choice over which school they can attend, then students will be more equipped for better fluency’ promoting second language acquisition. In the Trentino, for example, he stated that there is a greater desire amongst students to learn German due to them being given the choice over whether to participate in learning the language or not. ‘If students have to learn a language, then they won’t want to’, suggesting that enforcing language learning causes further complications in second language acquisition by contributing towards this ‘block’.

The ‘Victim’ Versus ‘Conqueror’ Mentality When examining the role of history on second language learning between German- and Italian-speakers, recent historical events since the First World War have affected local relations in the region (see Chap. 3 for more information). Even though South Tyrol has a linguistic richness

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that pervades throughout the area, with increasing touristic interest in the province, these factors are undervalued by cultural and structural conditions which cause language communities to ‘conserve distance’ from each other (see Peterlini 2013: 267). During the history of the South Tyrol question, both ethnic [groups] developed a strong [linguistic] solidarity. Both groups, and especially the German/Ladin community, were well aware that their chances of survival depended on the unity of the group. German- and Ladin-speakers were opposed to anything which might expose the group to Italian cultural assimilation tendencies. The result was a segregation policy: one goes to a school of one’s group…. (Kager 1998)

Since the German-speaking school system was established in response to Italian nationalistic policies, this need to preserve one’s ‘collective identity’ was reinforced through segregated education. Additionally, it should be said that while: The basic forms of colonialist1 thinking are deeply rooted in the Italian language’s collective memory. The residue of…ethnic difference…promotes conflict between the language groups and blocks language learning and contact with the others’ cultures… The formerly colonized too, are affected by collective memory [where] “The colonised are haunted, constantly dreaming of becoming the colonisers” [of South Tyrol]. (Fanon 1981: 44 cited in Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 239–240)

This ‘victim’ versus ‘conqueror’ mentality, applied to the ‘colonised’ and ‘colonisers’ of South Tyrol, was addressed when corresponding with Johannes, a German-speaking informant and political commentator. In his opinion, these historical identification markers of German-speaking ‘victims’ and Italian-speaking ‘conquerors’ were a major contribution towards the development of a language learning ‘block’. The reason for these labels, which arose in South Tyrol presumably after the First World War, was the result of German-speakers inferring that they were the ‘victims’ of Italian occupation to the region. These social labels, he explains, were another set of elements which impeded second language learning when the two main language groups were

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forced to live together in an environment that was originally part of Austria. The German-speakers were ‘the victims’ because of their instinctive attitude of defence towards Italian-speakers, while the Italian-­ speaking group played the role of the ‘conqueror’ as they worked their way into the province. ‘The ensuing victim thesis became an integral part of the collective memory and historical awareness of the German-speaking community’ (Pfanzelter 2017a: 54). ‘From a…psychological point of view, the memory of the German minority has’ (Pfanzelter 2017a: 33), since the end of First World War, ‘been determined by the “emotionally stressed narrative of the heroic victim”’ (ibid.). This is due to the ‘“subsequent unfair treatment”’ of the German-speaking community by the hands of the Fascists (see ibid.). It is this German-speaking ‘discourse on victimization’ which ‘plays a central role’ in the reinforcement and construction of a ‘separate’, or ‘demarcating identity…for which Italy as a nation and fascism as a regime is seen to be responsible’ (Pfanzelter 2017b: 121). However, over time, there has been a switch in roles since the passing of the Second Autonomy Statute, which granted more privileges to the German-speaking community. The consequence was one where the Italian-speaking group found itself at the margins of society without much representation in politics and local culture, as compared to the German-speaking group (see Giovanetti 1998 and Chap. 4). According to Voltmer: Today German speakers can quite confidently state that they have come back on top since 1972, so much so that some Italian speakers claim to be themselves the minority in the Province and want to be acknowledged as such. (2007: 211)

As a result, this ‘alternation in power’ between the German- and Italian-speaking groups has resulted in two ‘in-groups with a strong collective identity’ (Voltmer 2007: 212). Therefore, both language groups perceive themselves as ‘victims’ with a ‘blindness for the viewpoint of the other and lack of self-criticism [which] persist[s] as each side claims the minority role and victim role for itself ’ (Voltmer 2007: 213). Subsequently, Fait explains that:

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South Tyrolean identity politics is premised on a victim status that has outlasted its usefulness, and now prevents local people from accustoming themselves to hold multiple, fluid, hybrid identities and affiliations. (2011: 234)

This lack of affinity towards another language group can affect second language acquisition resulting in a psychological and ‘social distance from speakers of the second language community’ (Gass and Selinker 2001: 332). As mentioned in Chap. 4 when I discussed in more detail the potential role of cultural ‘distance’ on second language learning, the social barriers in place segmenting language group divisions may impede better forms of acculturation. According to Schumann, if learners acculturate, they will learn [the other language]; if learners do not acculturate, they will not learn [the other language]. Thus, acculturation initiates a chain reaction including contact in the middle and acquisition as its outcome. (ibid.)

Another variable which ‘needs to be considered’ (ibid.) is how group dominance over another language community could affect second language acquisition. If a language group is dominant due to the result of colonisation tactics, the learning of a second language by the dominate group is ‘less likely to take place’ (ibid.). Latin American history, explains Johannes, is riddled with postcolonial guilt in which Spanish-speaking ‘winners’ have never been free of the shame and transgressions that resulted from the eradication of Latin American languages, indigenous culture and property (Wand 2016). Consequently, during public debates in South Tyrol, the Italian-speaking group suffers from a ‘cultural and linguistic wall’. Although they are unaware of their internal guilt towards the German-speaking community, the idea of learning German would suggest a fallen victory by learning the language of the ‘conquered’ (see Peterlini 2013: 121). As a result, over time, Italian-speaking children have learned to ‘drag behind them the historical weight of the “unjust conqueror”’. As Johannes states:

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Whoever conquers has difficulty stepping out of the vest of the conqueror…to drop these symbols of the “conqueror” would seem like a loss of right to the conqueror’s land…. (Wand 2016)

Therefore, learning German for some Italian-speakers means a relinquishing of their right to South Tyrol by allowing their new homeland to be shared by two nations instead of one. Johannes believes that to move past these identity perceptions attempts should be made to promote more inclusion through encouraging group respect and diversity. In an email correspondence I had with former South Tyrolean President, Luis Durnwalder, he emphasised the importance of a reawakening of interest in other languages to stimulate students, update teaching materials and encourage multilingual interactions. Teacher exchanges with other universities outside of the province (for example with the Universities of Innsbruck and Trento) could contribute towards promoting improved second language learning within the higher educational environment. One of my colleagues also thought that to improve local relations it was the responsibility of young adults to search for more opportunities to practice the official second language with other like-minded individuals. That said, more social ‘mixing’ between both language groups is not as easy as some informants would suggest as sports clubs, churches and schools have historically always been parallel but divided (see Kager 1998). With ‘media, culture and politics…separated…formally or informally’ on an ethnolinguistic basis, this ‘represents an undeniable obstacle to’ possible opportunities for the language groups to meet in order to create ‘an effective bilingualism’ (see Vettori and Abel 2021: 240). Consequently, students may have difficulty making friends who live outside of their language group. Sometimes German-speaking parents do not have the time, energy, or inclination to encourage their children to join Italian-speaking groups if the former have already made German-­ speaking friends with the monolingual German-speaking clubs (Wand 2016). In some remote villages there is only one German-speaking club, which means opportunities to learn Italian are far less abundant outside the Italian-speaking cities. The same is also said of opportunities to learn German outside Italian-speaking education, since parents have to ‘make a real effort’, as I was told by one informant in 2021. Unless in

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Bozen-­Bolzano one lives in what she called the ‘nice German-speaking districts’, one has to search for possibilities for their children to participate in German-speaking activities. Regardless, my colleague, Beatrix, insisted that the language learning ‘block’ was becoming less problematic. For the German-speaking students: Unlike the generation of their grandparents and parents[,] today’s [German-­ speaking] youth [do] not have the experience of discrimination… Their attitude is less anti-Italian than that of their parents. Nevertheless, there is no full integration and because of the influence of parents, school and segregation their collective identity still has its roots in ethnicity and tradition… . But the experience of a pluri-ethnic society (despite segregation) and the influence of the Italian media [add] to the collective identity an awareness and also an acceptance of multiculturalism. (Kager 1998)

This view is starkly different from the one posed by Dr Peter Höllrigl, who contended that the German- and Italian-speaking communities have varied cultural differences, which have always been in existence. ‘It is a matter of Goethe versus Dante, of Beethoven versus Vivaldi’, and these world sentiments have coexisted for years. From Höllrigl’s perspective, South Tyrol is a region where the people are very strong and ‘stubborn’. People from outside are impressed by the region because of its multicultural atmosphere, but when one studies the deeper layers that make up South Tyrol, one sees a region that is very proud of its language, historical background, and traditions. Even though outsiders are encouraged by the various languages spoken throughout the province, the internal German-speaking response cautions: yes, and look how quickly we can lose our identity if we allow ourselves to mix to the point that we do not have a solid foundation (Wand 2016).

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 eing ‘Forced’ to Learn the Official B Second Language With German becoming the increasingly more dominant language used in the public and private sectors (see Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 242), some Italian-speaking residents have expressed their discontent towards the mandatory teaching of German in Italian-speaking schools. Maria, a Scottish native who lives in Bozen-Bolzano, talked with me about Italian aggression towards the German language when she was outside playing with her son on a community playground. An Italian-­ speaking girl had fallen down next to her and managed to cut her knee, so Maria turned to the girl and said in English that she would give her a plaster in order to stop the bleeding. Thinking that Maria was speaking in German, the girl’s father confronted Maria, stating that he did not permit German to be spoken to his daughter. Offended, Maria explained that she was speaking in English, and suddenly his manner changed from aggressive to impressed, since he was keen for his daughter to learn English. Although Maria acknowledged that this confrontation was a one-off experience, she was more accustomed to hostility from the German-speaking community towards the Italian language. While she admitted that she sympathised with the German-speaking community due to their historical oppression, this negative display by an Italian-­ speaker was not normally seen in public. This suggests the possibility that there may be some Italian-speakers who are privately less inclined to have their children learn German. When examining results conducted by Eurac Research as part of their KOLPISI report, researchers Abel et  al. found that 77.2 percent of German-speaking students thought learning Italian should be mandatory in schools, while 59.4 percent of Italian-speaking students felt that learning German should be obligatory. Only 10.2 percent of German-speaking students believed that learning Italian should not be compulsory, while 23.2 percent of Italian-speaking students favoured the elimination of having to learn German (2012a: 264). These results tended to clash when interviewing language teachers about issues concerning second language learning. When I interviewed

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Heidi, a German and English teacher who worked at an Italian-speaking high school, she explained that there were difficulties that came with teaching German to Italian-speaking students who saw the language as obligatory. The [Italian-speaking] students do not learn [German] that well [because it is an obligation] and also because they do not want to learn it. They see it as something they have to learn. They don’t see it as a means to get a better job or to live a more interesting life. It’s difficult teaching German here. It’s more difficult than when I taught German in Rome.

This ‘have to’ obligation is reminiscent of Dr Andergassen’s comments mentioned above. If students ‘have to’ learn a language then they ‘won’t want to’, causing the bitter language learning cycle to continue. Later, Heidi explained that the Italian-speaking Trentino students have fewer difficulties learning German because they see the German language as another part of the curriculum. ‘They don’t continue arguing with the teacher about it by asking “Why do I have to learn German?”, etc.’ Another informant also added that Italian-speaking students view German as something that is ‘necessary… something that is imposed’ rather than a useful language in order to help gain them employment. In response to these comments, my informant Chiara felt that objectively German was difficult to learn. If an Italian-speaking student was not interested in German, it only aggravated the language learning process. If an Italian-speaking student grows up in South Tyrol, they should understand the benefits and advantages to knowing German. That said, she confessed that if she did not live in South Tyrol, the time put into learning German would probably not have been worth the effort. There are more people speaking Chinese and Spanish and 800 million people speaking Malay. Why do you choose a language? Because you like the sound? Culture? Literature? Because you can use it (more than anything else). And German does not sound very inviting. It has very difficult grammar so if you’re not into philosophy and want to read Kant in the original language, it’s a language that doesn’t invite you to study it. Whereas French sounds nice and musical, etc. and maybe English has a relatively

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easy entry level (in the beginning, it’s difficult afterwards). You can survive in English pretty quickly. In German the entry level is much, much higher.

Teacher Quality Teacher quality was another factor which lent itself to criticism when interviewing South Tyrolean parents. According to one informant, South Tyrolean Italian-speaking schools function ‘as if [they were] a school from Arezzo [in Tuscany] where one studies French and English as a second language’ (Forer et al. 2008), but not as a language needed for daily conversations. Therefore, ‘the second language is more of a school subject than a tool for communicating in everyday life’ (Abel et al. 2012a: 278) ‘where “the language of the other is learned as if the other lived in a far away, unreachable country” (Baur 2000: 300)’ (Vettori Ebner 2016: 26). As of at least ten years ago, Italian-speaking education was proposing better second language courses, but to revitalise the school system teachers needed to have a better understanding of the German language. According to Enrico Hell, the Italian-speaking school system has a responsibility to promote bilingualism (2008),2 but historically a significant number of Italian-speaking teachers have been unable to converse in German (see Forer et al. 2008). While Forer et al.’s research as of 2008 found that 86 percent of German-speaking teachers had obtained the biand trilingual South Tyrolean language certificate (also known as the Patentino, see below), only 46 percent3 of Italian-speaking teachers had achieved the same qualification. This indicates that at the time the majority of Italian-speaking teachers were, in fact, monolingual (Forer et  al. 2008) signifying a mixed message to Italian-speaking students when it came to learning another language. While Italian-speaking students are required to study German in order to receive the Patentino, the lack of bilingualism by Italian-speaking teachers emphasised ‘the scarce importance of bilingualism’ (see ibid.) As stated by Forer et al. ‘[it’s like promoting] an anti-smoking campaign as a smoker, even if [you’re] in perfect health. What would be your credibility?’ (2008). Nevertheless, contradictory information was found in 2012 when the KOLPISI report indicated that 90 percent of South Tyrol’s language

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teachers were in possession of the province’s highest language certificate, the Patentino A (Abel et al. 2012b: 373). Yet even with those results, further analysis put those figures into question when the Director of the Institute for Comparative Federalism at Eurac Research, Dr Francesco Palermo, stated that, ‘[t]he lack of qualified teachers to teach in more languages [was still] a real problem’ (2012: 72) in South Tyrol. Florian, an informant, also insisted that the quality of language teaching as of 2012 was not consistent. Although his wife Chiara confessed that the cost benefit analysis of bilingual learning was better in South Tyrol than in other provinces in Italy, Florian explained that: There are German language teachers who are not able to write in High German and there are Italian language teachers who are not able to teach Italian to German-speaking teachers… [they are] unable to and uninterested. So, there are too many people who have several years of second ­language teaching and aren’t able to speak the second language that they are required to teach.

Florian’s comments further reflect results that were uncovered on second language teachers in South Tyrol when the KOLPISI report ‘indicated some differences between two bodies of [second language] teachers’ in terms of second language comprehension (Abel et al. 2012b: 373). Of the German-speaking teachers who taught Italian, 90.5 percent declared that they completely understood Italian ‘“without difficulty”’ (ibid.). This contrasted with Italian-speaking teachers who taught German where only 57.7 percent admitted that they could fully comprehend the second language. The data also suggested that over one-third of Italian-speakers of the German language could ‘“understand conversations/[written] texts to a certain [level of ] complexity”’ (ibid.). Finally, when producing the second language, 71.4 percent of German-speaking language teachers were able to express themselves fluently in Italian ‘“without difficulty”’. This, compared to 30.8 percent of Italian-speaking language teachers who taught German as a second language (Abel et al. 2012b: 373). These figures were supported by additional data compiled by Forer et al. whose German-speaking informants ‘[seemed] to be relatively content’ with their second language education in German-speaking schools.

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The same could not be said of their Italian-speaking informants who grew up in Italian-speaking education (2008). Similar to results that I obtained from interviews with former Italian-speaking students, several complained that their second language teachers were linguistically unprepared to teach their language courses. This suggests that while there is an awareness that Italian-speaking schools should encourage more bilingual education, further efforts are still needed from Italian-speaking schools to meet the demands of a multilingual society.

 eaching German Versus Teaching English T to Italian-Speaking Students According to Johanna, a German language teacher who worked at an Italian-speaking high school, ‘What is true is that we still suffer the present situation where Italian-speaking students have an aversion against learning German.’ In their research, Abel et al. found that 85 percent of South Tyrolean teachers thought that students had ‘little’ or ‘some’ interest in learning the official second language, while 79 percent of teachers believed that students held the same low levels of interest towards ‘the lifestyle and culture of the second language community’ (Abel et  al. 2012b: 370). This lack of motivation to acquire the official second language functioned as another language learning hurdle. In addition, Johanna explained that Italian-speaking students have higher workloads than students in other parts of Italy because they are required to include German language lessons on top of their standard course material. Even though the German language is considered more challenging, Italian-speaking students have more coursework, which means they must balance the national curriculum with requirements that are set up by the province. Therefore, it is important for the German language teacher to play a major role in second language acquisition in order to foster interest for those Italian-speaking students who are struggling with the second language. But some German language teachers who are raised in South Tyrol tend to teach as if they have a political agenda by forcing the German

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language on Italian-speaking students, which results in a disinterest in the language. At one point, Johanna worked with a South Tyrolean German language teacher who insisted that his students learn ‘[his] language’. This effectively resulted in a student-teacher conflict due to his demeanour when teaching the class. Although some staff attempted to reason with the German language teacher, other language teachers still come to class with ‘the wrong message’. As a result, language teachers like Johanna try to find better alternatives to encourage German language acquisition. Rather than prepare her students for the Patentino, which is only recognised in South Tyrol, Johanna tried to prepare them for the German Goethe exam, whose certificate is recognised worldwide. As opposed to treating German as a mandatory language, she and her colleagues wanted to make German more appealing. Consequently, as of 2013 her own students were more positive towards learning German. ‘Every year’, stated Johanna: twenty students from within our department enrol themselves for German certifications. Most of them pass their exams despite the constant turnover of German-speaking teachers at our institution.

Nevertheless, despite her efforts, as well as those of her colleagues, their concrete results only represent one school. Other complications manifest in second language learning, disrupting German language acquisition. According to Johanna, there are not enough people who are qualified to teach within the province, and those people who are qualified often choose positions that are better paid than general teaching positions. This results in little consistency between their teachers, which further complicates the language learning process. Furthermore, Heidi explained that Italian-speakers as a whole ‘just want to defend themselves’. The Italians in this province are in the minority and represent 30 percent of the population. Maybe the Italians don’t feel like they are seen as being important enough. Maybe it’s a feeling of not wanting to “give in” to the German majority, which is ridiculous. They are throwing away a big chance by not learning German, which they could learn by going overseas.

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She also found that teaching German to her Italian-speaking students was getting worse and becoming more difficult. The students, in general, don’t want to study…they just want to have fun. Work is annoying. Parents and teachers tell them what to do. And most of our students live a good life. They don’t see the immediate need to study at school to get a good job because mom and dad pay for everything. People earn very little at normal jobs in this province, so it’s easier to say that you’ll just stay with mom and dad.

Since Heidi worked at a prestigious local high school, where the majority of parents have high incomes, it was interesting to see how her views towards her students compared to the statistics of the province. In 2004, research was conducted by the Provincial Institute of Statistics (ASTAT). One of the main objectives was to analyse the linguistic competency of the local population (see ASTAT 2006: 3). Based on the survey’s list of questions, one concentrated specifically on the following: ‘Do you believe that your scholastic experience in the second language gave you an adequate comprehension to express yourself in that language?’ The results indicated that 67.9 percent of Italian-speakers and 47 percent of German-speakers said ‘no’, while only 32.1 percent of Italian-speakers and 53 percent of German-speakers said ‘yes’ (see ASTAT 2006: 43). A decade later, ASTAT asked the same question, but the responses were slightly different. This time there were three categories where citizens could choose between ‘yes’, ‘no’ or ‘in part’. Of the responses, 25.4 percent of German-speakers and 37 percent of Italian-speakers said ‘no’ while only 19.6 percent of German-speakers and 11.9 percent of Italian-­ speakers said ‘yes’. This was in contrast to half of the German-speaking community (50.3 percent) and 35.9 percent of Italian-speakers who said, ‘in part’ (see ASTAT 2015: 57). Nevertheless, 68.2 percent of South Tyroleans reported having a ‘positive experience with the second language in school’ (ASTAT 2015: 54), even though when broken down these percentages differed depending on the language group. Of the German-speaking community, only 36 percent claimed that their experience was ‘positive’ compared to 32.5 percent who stated that their language learning experience was ‘somewhat

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positive’. For the Italian-speaking group, the numbers were more varied with only 19.7 percent of Italian-speakers indicating that they had a ‘positive’ experience, as opposed to 42.6 percent who stated, ‘somewhat positive’ (ASTAT 2015: 56). While these results do not explain why second language learning experiences tend to vary between the language groups, they provide a small window into South Tyroleans’ own opinions towards second language learning when they were students inside school. Eurac Research also published additional results, but this time it focused on language usage. Conducted by Chiara Vettori, she found that Italian-speaking students from Bozen-Bolzano understood German to a lesser degree than Trentino students. Of the Italian-speaking students, 54 percent did ‘not voluntarily speak German’ (Giudiceandrea 2015: 24–25, 145), while 94 percent admitted to not using the German language at all, even with their German-speaking friends.4 According to Abel et al.: [F]or many pupils, predominately Italian-speaking ones, participation in everyday life in [German] might be difficult given that linguistic competences are often at an elementary level…. (2012a: 300)

Based on my interview with Heidi, she said: The [Italian-speaking] students should be bilingual after thirteen years of study, but they aren’t…. When it comes to teaching German, our students never speak German outside of school. At least 75 percent don’t, which is a shame.

As a result, Heidi explained that teaching English was easier than teaching German classes. When teaching English ‘the mind is free and the students are neutral’, as was evident within my English classes: I like teaching German, but English isn’t mandatory for the students as part of the Patentino. For German, the students are a little more critical. They start German early in kindergarten. They do learn it from a very early age. Some of them are at the same level in English (which they have studied for less time). They know so few words in German. How is it possible that they still don’t know what these words are? It’s everyday words.

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It’s because they never use it. As soon as they leave the classroom, that’s it. They don’t practice. If you say, “Why don’t you use German?” they say, “If we use German the locals use dialect, and we don’t understand them.” Yes, it’s more difficult learning German here, but you also don’t have to use it as often as if you were in [Meran-]Merano [which is largely German-­ speaking]. They always have an excuse ready. Always, always…

My colleague, Salvatore, also agreed with Heidi’s statements, especially when teaching English over German: I think it’s good with regards to [teaching] English. If it’s German, that’s another thing. The history has been quite strange here. There is a German population that lives in Italy and there are a lot of Italians who have been forced to come here and they are now forced to learn German if they want to get certain positions in society. As a result, many Italian-speaking kids grow up with this hate against the German language, so sometimes it’s a problem…

When my other colleague Rita, a German language teacher, was asked to teach an English class, she discovered that her students preferred learning English to having to learn the German language. English, she quickly realised, was easier to teach because the students ‘don’t have this bad feeling towards the language’, which may explain why some students felt comfortable speaking with me in English when I conducted interviews for my research.5 Additionally, Federica, a German and English language teacher, stated that students wanted to learn English because of its global versatility. Her Italian-speaking students saw the benefits to English because they thought it might assist them in obtaining a job outside of Italy. German limited students to Germany, Austria, or Switzerland, which led to a reduced interest in the language. Moreover, Federica claimed that her Italian-speaking students had difficulty articulating basic German words. Words like Krankenhaus (or ‘hospital’) were a challenge to remember, as opposed to English vocabulary because the students listened to music in the English language and watched American television shows. ‘They know the plural of “child” is

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“children” from “We are the world, we are the children” but they don’t know the plural of “Kind” [German for “child”].’ Therefore, regardless of the fewer hours of English language  instruction, Italian-speaking students excelled in English more than in German.

Topographical and Cultural Distribution A recurring theme that many South Tyroleans expressed was the lack of opportunities to practice the official second language, despite Pallaver insisting that ‘the opportunities to do [so] are manifold’ (see 2014: 382). Since several German- and Italian-speaking communities are situated within a few kilometres of each other, some outsiders might view ‘location’ as an inadequate excuse to find opportunities to learn another South Tyrolean language. Yet some citizens believe that the rural and urban divide, which separates most German- from Italian-speakers, prevents South Tyroleans from communicating with each other regardless of their close geographical proximity. Since the layout of the province is partially divided between cities and remote valleys, Italian-speakers have historically tended to gravitate towards apartments and city dwellings. Alternatively, German-speakers have had close relationships with the land resulting in landholdings in isolated villages that have been passed down through the generations. These monolingual clusters, which have constantly developed since at least the First and Second World Wars, have led to minimal opportunities for language exchanges depending on one’s exposure to the official second language. Therefore: The language situation is still quite heterogeneous, there is no widespread bilingualism. It can be observed that German speaking South Tyroleans living in rural areas have difficulties with Italian and on the other hand Italian speaking South Tyroleans living in the cities have insufficient proficiency in German. (Visser 2017: 31).

This regional displacement between German- and Italian-speakers has had an impact on ‘second language communication…and intercultural

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contacts’ (Voltmer 2007: 204). With 40 to 70 percent of most South Tyrolean cities comprised of Italian-speakers, the mountainous areas are over 90 percent German-speaking and have very few Italian-speaking citizens (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 241). Subsequently, it is stated that around 60 percent of German-speaking students possess ‘little motivation’ for learning Italian, as ‘their study of this second language is in reality equivalent to foreign language study’ (ibid.). Since ‘approximately’ 60 percent of German-speakers in South Tyrol ‘have few or no Italian-speaking neighbours, their social context offers them limited occasions to speak and/or listen to Italian’ (Voltmer 2007: 204). Even though the majority of South Tyrolean students have friends from another language group, a quarter of German-speaking students and 12 percent of Italian-speaking students in 2010 stated that ‘in the last year, they have never or only very rarely had relations of friendship with members of the other group’ (Abel et al. 2012a: 294). This contrasts with results by the KOLPISI II report which found that 80 percent of the students surveyed did ‘not have friends from the other language group or [had] very few’ (see Vettori and Abel 2021: 247). Although Vettori Ebner states that ‘[a] large majority of ’ her sample size ‘[had] at least some friends in the other language group’ (2016: 29), research from 2015 found that 58.3 percent to 80.4 percent of South Tyroleans had friends from other language groups (ASTAT 2015: 147). But of those people surveyed, 54.5 percent to 75.7 percent admitted that their friends were predominantly and/or exclusively from their own language group (ibid.). In an interview with Nathalie, a German-speaking dental hygienist, in 2011, she discussed the difficulties in learning Italian when growing up in a German-speaking village outside of Bozen-Bolzano. When questioned by her neighbours over why she had decided to attend evening Italian language classes, she explained that her basic knowledge of Italian did not prepare her for the Bozen-Bolzano job market. Although she had studied Italian for five years in high school,6 her Italian proficiency was very low because of the absence of Italian-speakers in her village. Regardless of her insistence that she needed Italian lessons to work with her Italian-speaking clients, her neighbours thought that learning Italian was not necessary; a basic knowledge of Italian was ‘just enough’.

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For those South Tyroleans who live in German-speaking villages it can be challenging to practice Italian unless an individual has a specific motivation to excel in the official second language. Just as Chap. 4 described two types of language motivation through integrative and instrumental acquisition, for Nathalie it was the instrumental factor which propelled her to develop her knowledge of Italian. With most German-speaking villages providing newspapers in German, and each village having its own unique dialect, South Tyrolean villages act as separate German-speaking enclaves located beyond Italian-­ speaking cities. Even if a German-speaker from another village was to move to a predominately Italian-speaking city, this would not guarantee the German-speaker opportunities to merge with the Italian-speaking community. As stated by Magliana: This problem [with group interaction] does not limit itself to rural areas, for even within the cities the two cultures are not exactly integrated. Because of the nature of the autonomy, which aims at safeguarding the ethnic, cultural and ambient characteristics of the German and Ladin minorities, there is a “rigid separation of ethnic groups to preserve the integrity of each of them”… Furthermore, there is a separation which encompasses all areas, whether it is the school system, provincial offices, or cultural and athletic clubs; although they do not openly exclude anybody, they cater to one of the three language groups. The two [i.e., German- and Italian-speaking] groups can be said to live side by side, but do not live together. (Magliana 2000: 80)

Just as Kager (1998) explained that South Tyrolean social clubs and churches have always been linguistically divided (see above), in order to reach out to other groups the individual has to take the initiative. Exceptions to these rules come from students who are able to move linguistically between both language groups. These students generally come from bilingual-speaking backgrounds and are accustomed to code-­ switching in the area. Otherwise, the regional structure of South Tyrol tends to reflect the mentality of the people. Institutional demarcations are based on linguistic membership either in school or in public settings. Bars and cinemas are linguistically divided, including libraries and youth

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centres, as well as ‘cultural institutions (such as…orchestras and bands, choirs, theatres) and social institutions (such as social housing and emergency rescue organizations)’ (Pallaver 2017: 237). Although Pallaver insists that ‘This division does not apply to all areas of society’ it does ‘first and foremost’ exist in ‘education/language and culture as well as to specific forms of organization of society such as [political] parties, trade unions, and associations’ (2017: 226). ‘[I]f there were not some exceptions in the sport environment (above all for…football), the extra-­ scholastic reality’ to find ‘an effective [means to interact] between the two linguistic groups would be mournfully [low]’ (Forer et al. 2008). Nevertheless, Lanthaler states that ‘[i]intensive language contact’ between the German- and Italian-speaking groups ‘occurs only in the cities and larger towns, though monolingual “ghettos” can be found…there’ (2007: 233). ‘In these contexts’, he describes how ‘German speakers usually have [a] good second language [competence]’ (ibid.), which supports comments made by one local historian based on his experience living in Bozen-Bolzano. ‘Italian’, he explains, ‘is rather alluring for the young German-speaking people because of Italian music and sports.’ Italian-­ speakers who live in German-speaking villages with a small Italian-­ speaking minority, ‘do not only speak good German but are also fluent in the local dialect and well integrated in the local community’ (Lanthaler 2007: 233). In Bassa Atesina, where there always consistently lives groups of Italian-­ speakers, one notices the influence of Italian on German and, vice versa, the Italians of the [area] have integrated in their speaking loan words from German (Pallaver 2015). (ASTAT 2015: 137)

However, while the province looks ‘multilingual’ on the surface, my tandem partner thought that German- and Italian-speakers communicated very little with each other. Even though the German-speakers are reported to have a better understanding of Italian, some German-speaking children have difficulties learning Italian, despite it being the state language. Donna attributed this lack of bilingualism to an absence of pluralism: ‘If a German-speaking person wants to mingle with another language group it is exhausting because the space is monolingual.’ When Alexander

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Langer, the German-speaking South Tyrolean Green Party-political activist, wanted to create a new South Tyrol, Donna explained that he wanted to open the linguistic social boundaries to promote multilingualism. But he was: …ostracised in his own community for his hostility to ethnic segregation and for his alleged betrayal of this own ethnic group…In a short autobiography, he recalled the day that he was late for school and saw other children that he had never seen before, entering the school, from a different entrance, which he had never heard of: “it wasn’t my entrance, I did not know them, the whole place was different, and there were fewer children”. It was then that he realized that an entire side of the school was reserved for children from a different ethnic background, with their teachers and their recreational area, their gate, and their schedule. This early experience made Langer’s resolve to denounce and combat social segmentation, ethnic segregation, and separate education unshakeable. (Fait 2011: 232)

Langer represented what Donna called ‘a person of the world’ who was not concerned with conserving tradition or being ‘on the opposite side of change’. Therefore, she insisted it was better for the future if the region became ‘equal to Europe’ by becoming more competitive in multiple languages rather than trying to remain linguistically divided. For Weronika and Evi, German-speakers from the area around Meran-­ Merano, they had to make a conscious effort to reach out to the Italian-­ speaking community to learn the official second language. Like Nathalie, they realised the long-term benefits of learning Italian, but had to search for individual opportunities to advance in the language. In the 1990s, when Weronika attended a German-speaking high school, she described her school as ‘half-half ’ (consisting of both Germanand Italian-speakers) even though most of the students were German-­ speaking. In her class there were 22 students, four of whom came from both Italian- and German-speaking households, while the other students had minimal contact with the Italian-speaking community. Having moved to Meran-Merano at sixteen from the German-speaking part of Poland, Weronika had to look for opportunities to practice her Italian in order to progress with her lessons. Through a weekly tandem exchange at

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a local language school, she met with an Italian-speaking student once a week to do homework, talk or otherwise work together. She stated that for years this was her only contact with an Italian-speaker, but as she grew older, she discovered opportunities to advance herself in the language. She invested in Italian books because they were more affordable than German books, even though they took longer to read. Her sister, additionally, learned Italian by studying at the local library. Students from both groups would use the local library to study or talk with each other, which meant that Weronika and her sister learned to converse in Italian and expand their social network. By starting a job and working in Bozen-­ Bolzano, this reduced the language learning barriers for Weronika. Visiting bars and clubs also gave her the opportunity to meet people from both language backgrounds. This internal incentive to learn the second language for integrative (social networking) and instrumental (work-related) reasons meant that Weronika became ‘[a] learner who is vigilant about instituting many encounters to gain comprehensible input’ (Gass and Selinker 2001: 354). As a result, she was ‘more likely to be successful in second language learning outcomes’ (ibid.). Her integrative approach to second language acquisition was what allowed her to overcome social stigmas, along with a ‘[w]illpower…to overcome different resistances’ (ibid.) despite South Tyrol’s ethnolinguistic fragmentations. Also, developing friends from the other language group no doubt provided a positive learning environment, since Abel et  al. explain that motivation can be tied to one’s relationship with another language group. According to their research: Although the frequency of contact [between language groups] positively affects intergroup attitudes, it is the development of friendship and the feeling of closeness which follows from it that produce a more profound change in the perception of the other group, thus reducing the distance between the “I” and “other”. (see Abel et al. 2012a: 293)

Even though the ‘geographical distribution of the two language groups’ means ‘direct contact…is not always feasible’ (ibid.):

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[t]he data gathered…show[s] that those participants who reported to have friends from the other language group were more motivated to learn the [second language]… The relationship between contact and motivation also depends on the depth of the friendship: the more intimate the friendship, the greater the desire to learn the [second language]. This connection between intergroup contact and motivation holds [true] for both language groups. A similar pattern appears with regards to extended contacts: both Italian- and German-speaking pupils are more motivated to learn the [second language] if their own relatives and/or friends have significant relations with those who speak the [second language]. (Abel et al. 2012a: 298)

When interviewing Evi, it was apparent that her family inadvertently influenced her interest to learn Italian. Growing up in a village outside of Meran-Merano, consisting of 10,000 German-speakers, in her early years she had minimal contact with Italian-speakers. The village kindergarten had one building that accepted both German and Italian language groups, but in the 1990s the language groups were separated, like in many schools today. When she decided to attend a German-speaking university, only three of her classmates knew Italian. Outside of school and university, there was limited contact with Italian-speakers unless she spoke with her Italian language teacher, or with her Italian-speaking aunt and grandmother. Unlike Weronika, who found opportunities to work and study in other regions of Italy, Evi’s exposure to Italian was predominately confined to her family or in-school class activities. Fortunately, by having relatives who were Italian-speaking, this allowed her to practice her Italian, which increased when she moved to Bozen-Bolzano and began working for a trilingual institution. Nevertheless, there are still students who struggle to find ways to practice the official second language, such as villagers who live in the more extended areas of Bruneck-Brunico or Eppan-Appiano. There ‘it is difficult to meet someone who speaks Italian…you have to speak the local dialect if you want to buy things because’, stated Weronika, ‘using Italian is impossible’. For Adelheid and Karl, who attended German-speaking high school in Meran-Merano, Italian was a language that they did not use since they lived in a German-speaking area. Fortunately for Karl, after high school he was able to obtain a job that allowed him to use Italian.

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But for Adelheid, who was studying to be a village kindergarten teacher, her opportunities to speak Italian were minimal. ‘Everywhere in the town where I live, people speak German, so I don’t need to speak Italian. Plus, there are not many Italian-speaking people in my area. In [Meran-] Merano, sure, but in my village, no.’

 pportunities Taken; Opportunities Missed: O The Role of Politics in Second Language Acquisition Despite these criticisms by Adelheid and Karl over the few opportunities to use Italian, Chiara felt that they were making ‘lame’ excuses to avoid having to rely on speaking the second language. Chiara, who grew up in Mantova, Italy, 183  kilometres south of Bozen-Bolzano, learned High German and the dialect of Meran-Merano after marrying her German-­ speaking husband. During their early years of marriage, she moved to Germany for several months to learn basic High German and over time through work and developing friendships with other German-speaking South Tyroleans, she mastered Meran-Merano’s local dialect. While many South Tyroleans state that local dialects are impossible for outsiders to learn, Chiara refuted these claims when she ‘picked up’ the dialect after moving to South Tyrol. In her opinion, if someone is determined to learn the local language(s) they will find an opportunity to do so. The problem with language learning in the education system, according to Chiara, is that South Tyrol’s school system produces ‘a mix of opportunities taken, and opportunities missed’ by allowing politicians to intervene. ‘For opportunities taken…you have a bilingual area with schools that teach one language but give you access to the other and from the beginning the education is good.’ But in order to ensure a multilingual upbringing, reliance depends more on parents. Some German-­ speaking parents will even conduct Italian language exchanges with schools in other regions of Italy to provide their children with more opportunities to practice learning Italian. One education professor at the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano also acknowledged that students from

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German-speaking backgrounds will participate in Erasmus programmes in other Italian provinces because some German-speaking parents and students believe that South Tyrol is ‘less Italian’ than the rest of Italy. For parents like Chiara, the education system posed complications for those bilingual families who have children who speak both German and Italian but do not have access to bilingual education. Even though the German-speaking education system supports language learning initiatives like a ‘year abroad’,7 as well as teacher (and student) exchanges, many parents, she explained, would like to conduct second language exchanges with local schools, but the opportunities for such exchange initiatives are restricted and not simple to fulfil. Let me give you a stupid example: any school where you want to learn another language would encourage you to do exchanges with someone from another school in another country. It would be very, very easy and cost effective in South Tyrol for a German-speaking liceo linguistico [i.e., language high school] to exchange with an Italian-speaking high school. They could organise exchange weeks anytime but that is not seen very positively here, to the point that we have a friend who teaches economics in a German-speaking high school that did an exchange with a school in bloody Milan. Why do you have to go to Milan for teenagers in South Tyrol to learn Italian when they can learn it every day and meet people and create relationships that would go just beyond a school and would encourage the use of the language? That’s what I mean by opportunities missed.

While Chiara’s husband, Florian, was less inclined to criticise politicians and their role in South Tyrolean education, history implies that political agendas helped shaped the educational environment. Informants like Johanna, who felt that local tensions between German- and Italian-­ speakers have decreased since the 1940s, insisted that the German-­ speakers no longer viewed Italian-speakers as second-class citizens. That said, she agreed that there was still some resentment towards Italian migration to the area, as was evident after the First World War, and continues onto present day.

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As for parental responses to the education system, which I discuss furthermore in Chap. 7, Chiara felt that parents are unable to ‘exploit the school system’ due to political interventions. While most parents realise that it is crucial for their children’s future to actually be able to speak both languages, that it is a plus and that they should exploit the school system to have this delivered as a bonus at the end of the school year and that it’s stupid not to use it…it is frustrated by the politics… Everything depends on whether or not [the school officials] make [the politicians] happy.

According to one historian, political intervention is part of the region’s history. Although proposals were put forward in the 1980s to establish experimental immersion language classes in Italian-speaking education, local politicians were opposed to the plans, declaring them to be in violation of the autonomy statutes. It was believed that immersion education went against political legislation. There was also a concern that without the teaching of grammar, students’ second language proficiency would be affected. Languages could not be ‘taught’ through various subjects (i.e., geography or history) unless grammar was part of the curriculum. Otherwise, immersion programmes would be viewed as futile if they did not have a grammar-based component. As a result, language teachers, Donna and Heidi, felt that politicians were intent on preventing bilingual education. They were concerned that politicians would view bilingual schools as a step towards losing their own identity. Without separation in the education system, some German-­ speakers thought that they would lose their dialect, forcing language groups to merge into a ‘mixed’ identity, leading to a potential loss of the German language. Yet, despite these language issues, Peterlini also adds that a good portion of politics ‘ignores real life’ (2013: 126). Therefore, Voltmer explains that: A major obstacle for future development is and will be the political system and in particular the established ethnically defined political parties relying on the victim-group rhetoric, as well as the juridical bases of the Autonomy

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itself. For fear of reopening age-old questions, a more adequate dynamic autonomy is being delayed. (2007: 219)

With politicians allowing the school system to focus on monolingual education, some informants believe that this denies citizens the opportunity to qualify for civil service positions. Monolingual school instruction may also prevent some South Tyroleans from being able to obtain the Patentino, an important South Tyrolean language certificate, which is required for many jobs in South Tyrol.

The Patentino The Patentino, or bi- or trilingual South Tyrolean language certificate,8 is designed specifically for South Tyrol, and historically has been a controversial language certificate which locals need to work in public service (see Alber 2021 for more information). Originally ‘introduced in 1977’9 (Abel et al. 2012a: 275) with the enactment of ‘the “Proportz Decree”’: The certificate of bilingualism, the Patentino, was the indispensable “ticket” for admission to the civil service- and subsequently became one of the most hated of all official documents, particularly by the Italians. (Steininger 2003: 137–138).

As ‘a precondition for recruitment into the [civil] service’ (Abel et al. 2012a: 275; see Alber 2021), it could be taken in German, Italian (and Ladin) in ‘four degrees of difficulty’ (ibid.) through levels A to D. Depending on one’s career path, this dictated the level of difficulty needed to pass the exam (see Peterlini 2009: 167).10 Consisting of a written and oral section (Abel et  al. 2012a: 275), the writing portion was ‘composed of two short texts with six questions to be answered in the respective other language’ (ibid.). South Tyroleans who were able to pass the written section were ‘admitted to the oral part’ (ibid.). Since 2022, the Patentino is still required to work in the Province of Bolzano for jobs in public administration, but also private agencies, depending on their linguistic requirements.11 Reformed over the years to

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incorporate more of the needs of ‘real life’ into exam taking,12 the test is divided into four levels of difficulty, but is now based on the CEFR standards with level A representing a C1 (advanced) exam, and level D equivalent to A2 (elementary).13 Additionally, the exam consists of four separate sections: listening, reading comprehension, a written and an oral section. While it is free to take the test, applicants can only enrol into one level at a time.14 Although there is an abundance of material available online to prepare for the exam,15 the Patentino is still ‘a hurdle for all candidates’ (Voltmer 2007: 215), which I was told by many informants in the province. While the ‘bilingual examination’ is considered ‘an advantage for all those in South Tyrol seeking work’ (Peterlini 2009: 168), my research found there to be an aversion to learning German from the Italian-speaking community that stemmed from having to obtain the Patentino. With the creation of the Second Autonomy Statute, ‘any hiring in public posts was provided for [by] a bilingual exam’ (Peterlini 1988: 124). Unfortunately, the Italian-speaking community was unprepared for the requirements needed to take this test, so that within the first three years of the Patentino’s application, only 36 percent of Italian-speakers passed the exam. Since the German- and Ladin-speaking communities were required to learn Italian during the Fascist era, 70 percent of Ladin-­ speakers and 60 percent of German-speakers managed to receive the Patentino (ibid.). However, despite the higher performance by German- and Ladin-­ speakers, all language groups have difficulties with this test, as only four out of ten passed South Tyrol’s language exam from 1978 to 1999 (Peterlini 2013: 121). In 1999, when the exam was reformed (Peterlini 2013: 120) the pass rate improved from 14.6 percent in 1972 to 61.3 percent (Voltmer 2007: 215). But as of 2009, there is an increasing number of individuals who are unable to pass the exam. In 2009 only 42.2 percent of Patentino candidates obtained the Patentino (Abel et al. 2012a: 277). By 2017, the total average of candidates who received the Patentino had decreased to 41.2 percent (48.8 percent for men and 36.5 percent for women) (for more information see ASTAT 2018b: 26), only to increase to 45.5 percent as of 202016 (for more information see ASTAT 2021).

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This is further complicated when compounded with the results of Eurac Research’s KOLPISI II report, which determined that ‘“the second language competence of South Tyrolean students is notably worse”’ compared to several years before (Fiori 2017). The data did not fare much better for German-speaking students and their knowledge of Italian as only 20 percent admitted to having a ‘good understanding’ of the second language. This was a dramatic decrease since 2007/2008 when the number was at 40 percent, which was made worse given that ‘one in five young German-speakers [could] make themselves understood’ in Italian, but ‘only with great difficulty’ (ibid.). For the Italian-speaking students, their competence was not much better as their ‘“elementary level”’ of German meant that ‘…for the major part of young [Italian-speakers] “it [was] not possible [for them] to actively participate in a discussion in German on daily themes”’ (ibid.). Consequently, Italian-speakers who find themselves in a ‘panic’ when trying to search for work in South Tyrol, face further complications when they realise their German comprehension may not be up to governmental standards (see Peterlini 2013: 120). For Hans Karl Peterlini, when he taught the German language to prepare Italian-speakers for the Patentino, ‘[the] obligation of bilingualism was often seen not so much as a stimulus as an obstacle to learning German’ (ibid.). This same opinion was expressed by my informant, Lucia, who was raised in Bozen-Bolzano. Her concern was not the level of difficulty expected to obtain the Patentino, but instead she thought the test was impractical, and did not reflect the linguistic needs of the community. Too much effort was required for Italian-speakers to know High German when German-­ speakers normally speak in dialect. Plus, she claimed that ‘[o]nce you pass the test it doesn’t matter if you ever use German again. All that matters is that you have the language certificate so that you can get a job in Bolzano.’ She explained that for those who apply for jobs with Italian-speaking institutions ‘they don’t even check to see if you actually know German’ to verify one’s language credentials. These facts were confirmed in early 2021 when I spoke with a former colleague who described how Italian-­ speaking employers are more concerned about whether potential employees have certain certifications. From their experience, employers never

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really check to see if one’s language skills are up to standard. Instead, they want to make sure employees have the right language certificate so that they ‘qualify’ for specific jobs. This, therefore, sends a mixed message for South Tyrolean citizens who apply for civil service positions: your application must state that you have C1/B2 proficiency in the official second language, but this does not guarantee that you will need the second language during your professional career. As not everyone is bilingual in South Tyrol’s tribunal offices: This confirms what Zanon called an existing unpopularity of the German language in the judicature and the fact that the sole possession of a valid diploma proving bilingualism does not always guarantee appropriate ­language proficiency, especially for judges, public prosecutors and office servants (Zanon 2001: 181). (Angerer 2017: 367).

While residents may disagree over whether the official second language is actually used in civil service professions, two-thirds of German- and Italian-speaking students thought that the Patentino ‘reflects the real capabilities of a person in the [second language]’ (Abel et al. 2012b: 266). Additionally, two-thirds of students as of 2012 were not in agreement over the hypothesis that ‘people of their own linguistic group do not pass the exam because they are discriminated by the [Patentino] examiners’ (ibid.). Nevertheless, Lucia thought that there was a fault in the oral section of the bilingual exam. The writing section, she explained, as of 2012, did not pose too many problems, but the oral section had its list of issues. Based on her exam account, the oral examiner asked her a series of questions, which were difficult to answer even in her mother tongue. If the examiner decides to ask a random question like, “Tell me about the different parts of a plane” and you haven’t learned the parts of a plane (and do not know the words in your own language), you could fail the test, even if you have spent hours studying other material.

Subsequently, Lucia believed that the exam was designed to have its students fail, even if this was not the intent of the examiners who

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distributed the language tests. When Hans Karl Peterlini was a German language teacher he found that preparing students for the Patentino ‘was a torture’ (2013: 120). Before the exam reforms of 1999: The exam consisted of a translation assignment strewn with beartraps and linguistic traps. Instead of transmitting the joy of learning a language, I needed to accompany these [students] through that insidious grammar that made even the German[-speaking] candidates depressed [to take] the exam. (ibid.)

Therefore, it should be no surprise, from the Italian-speaking perspective, that 55.5 percent of Italian-speakers believed they had a more difficult time obtaining the Patentino than their German- and Ladin-­speaking counterparts (see ASTAT 2015: 119). This may explain why Italianspeakers sometimes felt more disadvantaged (from 44.8 to 63.1 percent) when taking the exam, as well as in their work professions, instruction, and communication (see ASTAT 2015: 121 for more information). That said, although Lucia agreed that she could not speak for the Italian version of the exam, she thought the Patentino should be removed from the system and completely replaced with international exams. This, despite 45.1 percent of Italian-speakers and 76.8 percent of German-­ speakers believing that the Patentino should remain (ASTAT 2015: 110) regardless of the aforementioned issues. Fortunately for Lucia, in 2010, the provincial government decided to accept internationally recognised language certificates, like the Goethe and PLIDA17 exams,18 as an alternative to the Patentino (see Alber 2021). According to the European Court of Justice: The ruling states that under European Law, applicants for a selective recruitment procedure cannot be obliged to provide proof of their knowledge of a language by means of a diploma issued solely at one place within the EU. Thus, since 2010 appropriate new regulations have been introduced so that now a number of selected language certificates or combinations of school and university diplomas are recognized as alternatives to the [Patentino]. (Abel et al. 2012a: 275–276).19

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However, there are some exceptions, as those who graduate from the trilingual Free University of Bozen-Bolzano, the bilingual School for Higher Education for Health Professionals, Sanità Claudiana, and the integrated bilingual law programme at the University of Innsbruck are not recognised as having bilingual certificates that are equivalent to the Patentino. This issue was raised by the South Tyrolean Green Party when in 2019 they referred to the ‘paradoxical’ nature behind accepting monolingual degrees over bilingual ones.20 From their perspective, ‘Those who attend two separate monolingual courses of study are guaranteed [the bilingual certificate], while attending the plurilingual university for five years’ does not provide graduates with ‘the same result.’21 Consequently, they suggest this is like ‘slamming the door in the face’ of bilingual-­ speaking graduates who now must take the Patentino, ‘as if we did not believe in the bilingual character of the studies that they had done.’22 Therefore, the Green Party contends that the degrees from the above institutions should be made equal to a bilingual certificate ‘on the condition…that their courses of study foresaw a certain number of exams in diverse languages.’23

 referring German Dialect Over the Use P of High German Meanwhile, Italian-speakers face additional complications to learning German due to the use of local dialects, which adds another layer to second language learning issues for Italian-speakers in South Tyrol. Throughout most of Italy, excluding South Tyrol, there are a multitude of Italian dialects. These dialects, which differ from one city to another, are unique to their own respective regions. Fiorentino, for example, is spoken predominately in the city of Florence, while Barese derives from the southern city of Bari, far removed from any Tuscan dialect. According to Howard Moss, irrespective of attempts by Mussolini to enforce a standard language, Italian dialects persist and are so diverse from each other that they are ‘unintelligible to speakers of other [Italian] dialects’ (Moss 2000: 113).

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South Tyrol is unique in that most Italian-speakers do not speak in dialect. Instead, dialect is used primarily by German- and Ladin-speakers, whose varied dialects exist throughout the province. In fact, one study found that: practically none of the German-speaking participants used [High German] in everyday life (0.9 [percent]); instead they spoke South Tyrolean dialect (98.8 [percent]), which [was] only very poorly understood by the Italian-­ speakers interviewed (70.7 [percent] did not understand dialect or could only understand simple sentences). (Abel et al. 2012a: 299)

This compliments results published by ASTAT, which found that 93.4 percent of German-speakers (and only 13.8 percent of Italian-speakers) were able to fluently understand everything spoken in South Tyrolean German dialect (see ASTAT 2015: 138). As most German-speaking youth prefer to speak in dialect (see ASTAT 2015: 152), this causes problems for the Italian-speaking community as Italian-speaking education does not teach dialect, but instead concentrates on teaching High German. Since German-speaking education teaches standard Italian, which is spoken throughout South Tyrol, German-speakers are given a linguistic advantage, which does not extend to the Italian-speaking community. Consequently, as of 2010, 40.1 percent of Italian-speakers insisted that the ‘frequent use of dialect’ was ‘one of the main obstacles to second-language learning’ (Abel et  al. 2012a: 278). Therefore, Italian-­ speakers ask: ‘Why do I need to learn German if [German-speakers] speak dialect?’ (see Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 86–87). Regardless, there are reasons for a continued absence of a South Tyrolean Italian dialect thanks to Mussolini’s efforts to ‘Italianise’ the province through the integration of Italians from other parts of Italy (see Chap. 3). The convergence of Italian dialects forced Italian-speakers to communicate through standard Italian, while the German-speaking citizens maintained their local dialects despite Mussolini’s objectives. As a result, ‘the dialects spoken by Italian speakers in South Tyrol have levelled out to a common “regional variety, very similar to the standard [Italian] language”’ (Mioni 1990 cited in Voltmer 2007: 205).

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The German dialects, however, are so distinct in South Tyrol that single villages and valleys have their own varieties (see Lanthaler 2007: 223), so that when my informant, Nathalie, moved to another village, she had to learn an alternative vocabulary. That said, despite the use of dialects, for many years ‘the German South Tyroleans were confronted with a criticism of being bad Germans if they did not master [High German]’ (Lanthaler 2007: 230). But over time, this view has changed in that while there are still ‘complaints’ that ‘young South Tyroleans’ are not proficient in High German, ‘the dialect is [now] used with more self-awareness’ than was initially accepted in the past (see ibid.). In domains where the dialect ‘was previously banned’ (ibid.), such as in radio, television and entertainment, dialect is now found as it is in social networks, such as Facebook, email, and text messaging (ibid.; Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 83). Dialect is also said to be used by citizens who do not wish to lose their roots or traditions. With locals leaving ‘rural areas’ for other occupations ‘[i]t is not surprising…that a sense of “loss” has been experienced by many villagers, in particular amongst the elderly’ (Lanthaler 2007: 230). As a result, Globalisation has not spared provincial and remote rural areas…[from looking] for identification within his/her own small group. Linguistically-­ speaking, dialect, the language of the small group, is perceived as a safe haven in the globalisation context… [Thus] there is indeed a renewed tendency to identify with one’s own small group and dialect rather than with [High German], in order to attain both social integration and differentiation. (Lanthaler 2007: 230–231)

While there are many Italian-speakers who have a passive understanding of dialect due to their work or private relations, this does not insinuate that each of these Italian-speakers can converse in South Tyrolean German dialect (see Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 88). Many Italian-­ speaking students who live in Bozen-Bolzano do not understand the Bolzanino dialect, let alone comprehend the other South Tyrolean dialects, as I discovered during my interviews.

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Since the German dialect is the preferred communication outside of written documents and newspapers (Lanthaler 2007: 234), it ‘plays an uncontested role in daily communication’ (ASTAT 2015: 136) and has over 40 varieties.24 Therefore, the dialect functions more like a ‘third language’ that Italian-speakers have to learn ‘alongside Italian and German’ (Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 87) in order to converse with German-­ speaking South Tyroleans. This means Italian-speakers find themselves ‘struggling with a “double bilingualism”’ in that they have to learn the ‘the German standard, reserved for written communication and [for] more official occasions, and the dialect, dominant in oral communication’ amongst South Tyrolean German-speakers (ibid.). Consequently, there are many Italian-speaking students who are dissatisfied with having to learn German if German-speakers normally speak in dialect (see Lanthaler 2007: 234). Given that German-speakers will switch into Italian when talking to Italian-speakers (see Abel et al. 2012a), this prevents Italian-speakers from practicing their German (see Lanthaler 2007: 234), which compromises their bilingualism. As a result, Lucia said it would be easier for Italian-speakers to learn High German if they lived in Germany. But even if Italian-speakers lived in Germany for several years, this would not enable them to speak in South Tyrolean dialect. With 71.2 percent of German-speakers using dialect with their friends and classmates at school (ASTAT 2015: 152), Weronika also experienced second language learning issues when she moved to South Tyrol when she was younger. As a native German-speaker, she explained how it was difficult for her to comprehend the local dialect. Although the German-­ speaking schools were said to teach in High German, the students spoke in dialect, which is found ‘not only in the hallways, but also in the classrooms and the teachers’ lounge’ (Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 84). Although it is reported that 82.8 percent of German-speaking teachers use High German (Ciccolone 2010: 51), German-speaking students retain what is referred to as a ‘halting school German’, where High German ‘is not heard in any medium [outside of school] and offers little motivation for extra-[curricular] use’ (see Lanthaler 2007: 229). Therefore, Italian-speakers must learn through trial and error that High German is not used with German-speakers. If Italian-speakers want to have a ‘“natural”’ conversation with German-speakers they should

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anticipate speaking in local dialect (see Lanthaler 1990: 26).25 But dialect creates additional difficulties for Italian-speakers trying to learn High German, as the grammatical rules vary in each dialect, which I was told by my informants in the province. Additionally, while Italian-speakers may not always have incentives to push themselves to learn the German language, historically German-­ speakers were not given a choice and were forced to learn Italian in their schools (see Chap. 3). This ‘“imposed monolingualism”’ by the Fascist government during the 1920s provided German-speakers with a means of survival in response to the Italian nation-state (see Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 79). Fast forward several decades, German-speakers now carry ‘an unintentional demonstration of power’ (see Peterlini 2013: 123). ‘When Germanspeakers speak in Italian with Italian-speakers’ they send an implicit message which says, ‘I know your language, but you do not know mine!’ (see ibid.). Since dialect is linked with German-speaking identity, it ‘is associated with closeness’ and one’s ‘motherland’ but ‘can also marginalise those who speak another language’ (Lanthaler 2007: 231) and come across as ‘a sort of “secret code”’ (see Forer et al. 2008). As most Italian[-speakers] are city dwellers, their familiarity with the dialect world is limited. They appreciate [High] German as a cultural language and wonder why their German-speaking fellow-citizens continue to indulge in the use of the dialect. If [Italian-speakers] learn German at all they want to be able to move throughout the whole German language area, rather than communicate “only” with their neighbours. Many of them do not understand that the linguistic identity of the South [Tyrolean German-­ speakers] is very closely linked to dialect. (Lanthaler 2007: 235)

For those Italian-speakers who do make constant efforts to use High German in public spaces, there are many German-speakers who find it difficult, and are at times embarrassed, to speak in High German (see Peterlini 2013: 122). Whereas [South Tyrolean German-speaking] politicians, business representatives and middle ranking administrative staff feel at ease using the

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above described variety in between [High German] and dialect in the media, the average citizen has inhibitions to use [High German] in official situations. Furthermore, the German South Tyroleans speak dialect at home, at work and in their free time in almost 100 [percent] of the cases therefore they have little practice in the active use of [High German]. It is not surprising, then, that many of them make an awkward impression when they unexpectedly find themselves in official situations, for example in the media, in which they are supposed to speak [High German]. Hence the widespread saying [that High German] is a foreign language for [German-speaking South Tyrolean citizens]…. (Lanthaler 2007: 229)

Nevertheless, there is a minority of Italian-speakers who are interested in wanting to learn dialect. Despite the teaching of High German, learning materials are available outside of school ‘to promote the comprehension of spoken dialect’ (Lanthaler 2007: 235). When I talked with Salvatore, I asked him what he thought of teaching dialect in Italian-­ speaking schools. In my opinion, it wouldn’t be a good idea because if you spoke dialect you would only speak the language that is spoken in South Tyrol and the dialect isn’t an official language. The newspapers are written in High German… There are no dialect papers; maybe some sentences are, but the articles are all in High German. The locals can read in High German, but they speak in dialect. This creates frustration for Italian students who are learning German, which means they cannot practice German on the streets.

While Salvatore felt that dialect would limit students to the regions where each dialect is spoken, he stated that German dialect is like a separate language where both grammar and syntax are different. On South Tyrol’s tourism website, it states that ‘Many visitors will not immediately recognise the [local] language as being German.’26 While ‘dialect is the…lingua franca. This way of speaking noticeably differs from standard German.’27 Anna and Nathalie, both of whom speak dialect, also said that the dialects spoken are so varied that sometimes South Tyrolean German-­ speakers are unable to comprehend one another, and that ‘the differences are considerable’ (see ASTAT 2015: 137). According to Anna:

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There are some South Tyrolean dialects that you can understand, and they can understand your High German and there are other dialects that sound like Norwegian. And those people have a difficult time understanding High German.

Even when Salvatore, a German language teacher, tried to talk with South Tyrolean German-speakers, he could only comprehend 80 percent of what they were saying. As only 20.1 percent of German-speakers can speak High German (ASTAT 2015: 46), when Salvatore’s friends from Hamburg, Germany came to visit, the German-speakers asked his friends to speak in English because they could not understand their High German. As for teaching German to Italian-speaking students, Salvatore permitted them to have an accent, but he did not allow his students to use the local dialects when practicing their German in his class. To him, ‘the words and the grammar [had] to be correct’ so that students had a knowledge of High German. Since German-speaking schools are seen as the only place where German-speakers can be ‘in contact with a good [German] language standard… a German-speaking South Tyrolean who speaks their dialect, but not [High] German, condemns themselves to cultural isolation’ (Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 96, 85). Given the multitude of dialects spoken throughout the province, High German functions as a ‘neutral’ language since dialects are normally not written down, and mainly used for oral communication (see Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 83). Paola, on the contrary, did not agree that High German should be taught in Italian-speaking schools. A native South Tyrolean, and Germanand Italian-speaker, she was fluent in German dialect. From her perspective, it made sense to teach the dialect because: [n]o one uses High German here. They study High German here for nothing. If the students do not learn the dialect when they are young, they will never learn it.

From an employment perspective, Melissa also added it made sense for students to learn local dialect because the German-speakers view those who speak in dialect as having a fluent knowledge of ‘good German’.

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When anthropologist, John Cole, moved to South Tyrol in the 1960s and 1970s, he was teased by German-speakers for speaking ‘the written word’ because he only could converse in High German.28 The dialect, it turns out, has a high level of prestige (see Voltmer 2007: 205) within South Tyrolean German culture. High German also can be a thorn in the side of some German-speaking students since many German-speakers who grow up speaking dialect are unprepared for German-speaking university. Those German-speaking students who do decide to leave the province and attend courses in Austria and Germany quickly realise that ‘their lexical and grammatical competence is inadequate’ for higher education (Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 84). As a result, this might explain why there are some Italian-speakers with negative opinions towards dialect. ‘Their limited access to this variety, compounded by their derogatory attitude, explains why they are very poorly motivated to learn it’ (Lanthaler 2007: 235). And yet despite hesitations to learn the German language, 68.1 percent of Italian-speakers value High German as a language that is necessary to promote cohabitation between German- and Italian-speakers. With 76.3 percent of German-speakers viewing Italian as relevant for living within South Tyrol (see ASTAT 2015: 180), this suggests a shared importance to learning each other’s language to move past societal divisions. Consequently, this is why the next chapter concentrates on parents, students, teachers, and politicians to explain how they have learned to work around the schooling system and respond to language issues in society. While not everyone agrees that bilingual education would end language tensions in the region, a no catch-all ‘solution’ to modifying the school system may explain why segregation still exists.

Notes 1. As mentioned in more detail at the end of Chap. 3, while the use of the term ‘colonised’ in the South Tyrolean context is an interesting one, for the purposes of this book, I will not be referring to, nor drawing comparisons with, (post)colonial literature.

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2. See Hell, E. (2008). Test di lingua nelle scuole dell’infanzia. Bilinguismo a Bolzano, [blog] 8 May 2008. Available at: http://www.gebi.bz.it/ bilinguismo/?p=77 [Accessed 5 July 2013] for more information. 3. Giudiceandrea claims that the amount of Italian-speaking teachers who were in possession of the Patentino as of 2004/2005 was 42 percent (2015: 31). 4. More information concerning the results of the survey were published online in the 23 February 2006 edition of the Alto Adige’s article, ‘I bolzanini bocciati in tedesco’ (Anon. 2006) at: http://ricerca.gelocal.it/altoadige/archivio/altoadige/2006/02/23/AB1PO_AB101.html [Accessed 12 September 2015]. 5. During my interviews with current or recently graduated high school students, some Italian-speaking students preferred to conduct their interviews in either Italian or English. German-speaking students, conversely, felt more comfortable using English rather than Italian as the preferred mode of communication. 6. Even though German-speaking students are required to study Italian beginning in the early years of education, Nathalie’s experience suggests that the more remote regions of South Tyrol may teach Italian at a later age. This could be since Italian is used far less in the villages and/or because German-speaking schools may not have enough qualified Italian language teachers to teach their students. 7. See Mehrsprachigkeit 2016–2020 (Südtiroler Landesverwaltung  2018) at: https://www.provinz.bz.it/land/landesregierung/achammer/mehrsprachigkeit/mehrsprachigkeit.asp#content [Accessed 28 October 2021]. 8. For more information on the bi- and trilingual language exams see: http://www.provinz.bz.it/ebt/ [Accessed 26 August 2022]. 9. The South Tyrolean Administration states that while the bilingual exam was established in 1976, it was not officially implemented until 1977. For more information, see L’esame di bilinguismo (2022) at: https://www. provincia.bz.it/formazione-­lingue/bilinguismo/l-­esame-­di-­bilinguismo. asp [Accessed 26 August 2022]. 10. Vettori Ebner states that this is still the case, but that ‘The examination, consisting of a written (listening comprehension and written production) and oral test…must be taken in both languages, [i.e.,] German and Italian, in one of four degrees of difficulty (from D to A), each according to the school qualification needed to apply for different careers in the

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public sector (cfr. Autonome Provinz Bozen Südtirol 2016; [Abel et al. 2012a]’ (2016: 26). 11. For more information, see: Patentino di bilinguismo a Bolzano (a cosa serve, come fare l’esame, corsi di tedesco) (2022), at: https://www.ilportafoglio.info/2018/07/patentino-­di-­bilinguismo-­bolzano-­cosa-­serve-­esame. html [Accessed 26 August 2022]. 12. For more information, see L’esame di bilinguismo (2022) at: https://www. provincia.bz.it/formazione-­lingue/bilinguismo/l-­esame-­di-­bilinguismo. asp [Accessed 26 August 2022]. 13. See ibid., as well as L’esame di bilinguismo nella tua scuola (2022), at: https://www.provincia.bz.it/formazione-­lingue/bilinguismo/esame-­ bilinguismo/l-­esame-­di-­bilinguismo-­nella-­tua-­scuola.asp [Accessed 26 August 2022]. 14. For more information, see: Patentino di bilinguismo a Bolzano (a cosa serve, come fare l’esame, corsi di tedesco) (2022), at: https://www.ilportafoglio.info/2018/07/patentino-­di-­bilinguismo-­bolzano-­cosa-­serve-­esame. html [Accessed 26 August 2022]. A more detailed description of how each of the test’s four sections are broken down can be found in the ASTAT report, L’esame di bi- e trilinguismo 2017 (2018a: 10). 15. For more information see the South Tyrolean Administration’s ‘Tools for preparation’ (2022) at: https://www.provincia.bz.it/formazione-­lingue/ languages/exams-­certificates/tools-­for-­preparation.asp [Accessed 26 August 2022]. Additional course considerations can be found through the Patentino di bilinguismo a Bolzano (a cosa serve, come fare l’esame, corsi di tedesco) at: https://www.ilportafoglio.info/2018/07/patentino-­di-­ bilinguismo-­bolzano-­cosa-­serve-­esame.html [Accessed 26 August 2022]. 16. For more information see ASTAT’s 2021 abstract on the most recent bi- and trilingual exam results, at: https://astat.provincia.bz.it/it/news-­ pubblicazioni-­i nfo.asp?news_action=4&news_article_id=656562 [Accessed 20 December 2021]. 17. This stands for the Progetto Lingua Italiana Dante Alighieri issued by the Dante Alighieri Society. 18. A full list of German and Italian language certificate alternatives as of 2022 can be found on the South Tyrolean Administration website. For Italian, see: https://www.provincia.bz.it/formazione-­lingue/languages/ exams-­certificates/italian.asp and for German, see: https://www.provincia.bz.it/formazione-­lingue/languages/exams-­certificates/german.asp [Accessed 3 November 2022].

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19. For more information, see the data report, Esami di bi- e trilinguismo 2017 (ASTAT 2018a), or the South Tyrolean Green Party’s article, I confini della nostra lingua sono i confini del nostro mondo (2019) at: https:// www.verdi.bz.it/it/i-­confini-­della-­nostra-­lingua-­sono-­i-­confini-­del-­ nostro-­mondo/ [Accessed 3 November 2021]. 20. For more details, see the South Tyrolean Green Party’s article, I confini della nostra lingua sono i confini del nostro mondo (2019) at: https://www. verdi.bz.it/it/i-­confini-­della-­nostra-­lingua-­sono-­i-­confini-­del-­nostro-­ mondo/ [Accessed 3 November 2021]. 21. See ibid. 22. See ibid. 23. See ibid. 24. See Languages in South Tyrol (South Tyrol Information 2022) for more information at: https://www.suedtirol.info/en/this-­is-­south-­tyrol/people/languages [Accessed 26 August 2022]. 25. Lanthaler’s work was cited in the following university course paper: Interferenze lessicali in situazioni di contatto linguistico: il caso dell’Alto Adige-Südtirol (2003/04) by Martina Zambelli of the Università Ca’Foscari di Venezia. 26. See Languages in South Tyrol (South Tyrol Information 2022) for more information at: https://www.suedtirol.info/en/this-­is-­south-­tyrol/people/languages [Accessed 26 August 2022]. 27. Ibid. 28. Based on personal communication in December 2015.

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Lanthaler, F., ed. 1990. Mehr als eine Sprache. Zu einer Sprachstrategie in Südtirol. Più di una lingua. Per un progetto lingusitico in Alto Adige. Meran: Alpha & Beta. ———. 2007. The German language in South Tyrol- some sociolinguistic aspects. In Aspects of multilingualism in European border regions: Insights and views from Alsace, eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol, ed. A.  Abel, M.  Stuflesser, and L.  Voltmer, 220–234. Eurac Research. Magliana, M. 2000. The autonomous province of South Tyrol: A model of self-­ governance? Bozen/Bolzano: Europäische Akademie Bozen. Mioni, A. 1990. Bilinguismo intra- e intercomunitario in Alto Adige/Südtirol: considerazioni socio-linguistiche. In Mehr als eine Sprache, ed. F. Lanthaler. Alpha & Beta: Meran. Moss, H. 2000. Language and Italian national identity. In The politics of Italian national identity, ed. G.  Bedani and B.  Haddock. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Palermo, F. 2012. Alto Adige: il futuro alle luce del decennio passato. Bozen: Eurac Research. Pallaver, G. 2014. South Tyrol’s changing political system: From dissociative on the road to associative conflict resolution. The Journal of Nationalism and Ethnicity 42 (3): 376–398. ———. 2015. Sprache in der Pufferzone. Deutsche Lehnwörter im trentiner Dialekt: Branzoll im Südtiroler Unterland. In Kulturen an den “Peripherien” Mitteleuropas: (am Beispiel der Bukowina und Tirols), ed. A. Corbea-Hoisie and S.P. Scheichl. Iași and Konstanz: Editura Universitatii “Alexandru Ioan Cuza” and Hartung-Gorre Verlag. ———. 2017. South Tyrol: Terrorism and its reconciliation. Negotiations, consociational democracy, and power-sharing. In Dialogue against violence: The question of Trentino-South Tyrol in the international context, ed. G. Bernardini and G. Pallaver. Bologna and Berlin: Il Mulino and Duncker & Humblot. Peterlini, O. 1988. Il Sudtirolo, una prova d’esame per l’Europa. In Minoranze linguistiche fra storia e politca, ed. F. Demarchi. Trento: Gruppo culturale Civis. ———. 2009. The South Tyrol autonomy in Italy: Historical, political and legal aspects. In One country, two systems, three legal orders- perspectives of evolution: Essays on Macau’s autonomy after the resumption of sovereignty by China, ed. J. Oliveira and P. Cardinal. Berlin and Heidelberg: Springer. Peterlini, H. 2013. Noi figli dell’autonomia: Alto Adige/Südtirol oltre il disorientamento etnico. Meran/Merano: Edizioni alphabeta Verlag.

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Pfanzelter, E. 2017a. The South Tyrol question and the option agreement: Fascism and national socialism in the nineteen-twenties and nineteen-­thirties. In Dialogue against violence: The question of Trentino-South Tyrol in the international context, ed. G. Bernardini and G. Pallaver. Il Mulino and Duncker & Humblot: Bologna and Berlin. ———. 2017b. The (un)digested memory of the South Tyrolean resettlement of 1939. In A land on a threshold: South Tyrolean transformations, 1915–2015, ed. G. Grote and H. Obermair. Bern: Peter Lang. Roberts, C., M.  Byram, A.  Barro, B.  Street, and S.  Jordan. 2001. Language learners as ethnographers. Multilingual Matters. South Tyrol Information. 2022. Languages in South Tyrol. [online]. Accessed 26 August 2022. https://www.suedtirol.info/en/this-­is-­south-­tyrol/people/ languages. South Tyrolean Administration. 2022a. Italian. [online]. Accessed 26 August 2022. https://www.provincia.bz.it/formazione-­lingue/languages/exams-­ certificates/italian.asp. ———. 2022b. German. [online]. Accessed 26 August 2022. https://www.provincia.bz.it/formazione-­lingue/languages/exams-­certificates/german.asp. ———. 2022c. Tools for preparation. [online]. Accessed 26 August 2022. https://www.provincia.bz.it/formazione-­lingue/languages/exams-­certificates/ tools-­for-­preparation.asp. Steininger, R. 2003. South Tyrol: A Minority Conflict in the Twentieth Century. New Jersey: Transaction Publishers. Südtiroler Landesverwaltung. 2018. Mehrsprachigkeit 2016–2020. [online]. Accessed 16 November 2021. http://www.provinz.bz.it/land/landesregierung/achammer/mehrsprachigkeit/mehrsprachigkeit.asp#content. Verdi Grüne Vërc. 2019. I confini della nostra lingua sono i confini del nostro mondo. [online]. Accessed 3 November 2021. https://www.verdi.bz.it/ it/i-­confini-­della-­nostra-­lingua-­sono-­i-­confini-­del-­nostro-­mondo/. Vettori, C., and A.  Abel. 2021. La scuola come unico contesto di apprendimento della seconda lingua? Il caso dell’Alto Adige. In Lingue in contatto e linguistica applicata: individui e società, ed. M.E.  Favilla and S.  Machetti, 239–254. Milano: AltLA. Vettori Ebner, C. 2016. The long way to bilingualism: The peculiar case of multilingual South Tyrol. International Journal for 21st Century Education 3 (2): 25–33. Visser, M.M. 2017. German: The German language in education in South Tyrol (Italy). 2nd ed. Fryslân: Mercator European Research Centre on Multilingualism and Language Learning.

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Voltmer, L. 2007. Languages in South Tyrol: Historical and legal aspects. In Aspects of multilingualism in European border regions: Insights and views from Alsace, eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol, ed. A. Abel, M. Stuflesser, and L. Voltmer, 201–219. Eurac Research. Wand, A. 2016. ‘Separate but equal’, segregated or stymied? Second language learning issues in South Tyrol. Journal of the Anthropological Society of Oxford 3 (3): 330–347. Zanon, H. 2001. Spurensuche 1999: Die deutsche Sprache bei Gericht in Südtirol. In Die deutsche Sprache in Südtirol. Einheitssprache und regionale Vielfalt, ed. K. Egger and F. Lanthaler. Vienna and Bozen: Folio.

7 Varied Responses to Bilingual Education

In my early days of fieldwork, I came to know a family who was based in Meran-Merano. My mother, who was trying to find a General Practitioner in South Tyrol who spoke English, was combing through the internet hoping she would find a doctor whom I could use in case of emergencies. Through her search, she found a man named Florian and asked if he knew of any South Tyrolean doctors. Within a day he replied stating his neighbour was a doctor who knew English, and worked at the local hospital. Throughout the following months, this random individual became my mother’s pen-pal, and my initial point of contact when I tried to look for housing in Bozen-Bolzano. When I moved to the city, I was invited to his house where I met his wife, Chiara, and overtime this couple became my major source for contacts by introducing me to their friends. During one of their family dinners, two of Chiara’s friends asked me about my doctoral research. When I explained that I was studying German- and Italian-speaking relations through the lens of South Tyrolean education, her friends got into a debate about the local schooling system and language learning issues in the province. While both of her friends came from different language backgrounds, they arrived at similar conclusions: that they were not satisfied with the education system and that it led to societal divisions. © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 A. Wand, Segregation in Language Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-32747-6_7

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Although in Chap. 5 I briefly analysed locals’ opinions towards the education system, I only scratched the surface when it came to understanding how locals deal with second language learning issues, or how they choose to interact with the second language community, and improve (or question) bilingual learning efforts. Therefore, I interviewed informants from a myriad of backgrounds who were involved in South Tyrolean education and categorised their answers into four main group components: parents, students, teachers, and politicians. By interviewing parents, I wanted to understand how they grapple with education choices. What makes them decide to place their children in German- or Italian-speaking schools? And what impact does their involvement ultimately have on their children’s linguistic fluency? How do parents respond to monolingual education if their children are multilingual? And what role does ‘Free Choice’ play in second language learning? Are there restrictions to school selection for one’s children? Teachers, simultaneously, are faced with certain issues as they work their way around the schooling system. While several educators have tried to find a means of promoting better language teaching programmes, others are concerned that later immersion teaching (i.e., through CLIL) may result in insufficient language learning outcomes. As a result, there are some German-speaking politicians who believe in monolingual instruction through the teaching of the students’ mother tongue before the introduction of the second language. While some Italian-speaking politicians are in support of bilingual education, conservative politicians are more concerned that German-speakers receive a German-speaking education. But in the end, it is the students who are the ones most impacted by the South Tyrolean education system. They are the future generation who decides whether bureaucracy should implement new educational reforms. Should immersion education become a regional prerogative? Or should the schools remain exactly as they are? These are the sort of questions that arose from interviews, which generated interesting results. Ultimately, I have chosen to focus on these groups and their reactions to second language learning in order to provide further clarity as to why the region is still linguistically divided. By concentrating on parents, students, teachers, and politicians, I discuss what language learning means

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to them while discovering how residents respond to language issues in education and South Tyrolean society.

Part I: Talking With Parents When I began my interviews with South Tyrolean parents, I quickly noticed their relationships were ‘mixed’, where both partners had a different mother tongue and/or came from another cultural background. While not intentional, these interviews provided opportunities for discussions on how multilingual families operate in South Tyrol within its monolingual school system without the option for bilingual education. Because of these ‘mixed’ marriages, these families are at times faced with a linguistic dilemma as they contemplate where to place their children in schools designed not to be multilingual. With many parents wanting a bilingual schooling option, it makes choosing schools a difficult decision as they want their children to develop German and Italian, regardless of the separate schooling system. So where do South Tyroleans prefer to place their children, including those whose children are not multilingual? How do they guarantee that their children learn both languages (i.e., German and Italian) despite a monolingual education school system?1 Since bilingual education is not normally an option as multilingual schools are few in number,2 Lucia told me that if she had a child, she would place them in a German-speaking school. As German-speaking education has a better reputation and is thought to be more financially funded, several of my informants gave me similar responses, regardless of their own linguistic background. Another assumption was that German-speaking schools were more equipped for better learning outcomes. Aside from the presumption that the teaching is more rigorous, German-speaking schools were viewed as ‘organised’. Consequently, many parents from diverse linguistic backgrounds wanted their children in German-speaking education, even if the parents did not speak the German language and were unable to communicate with teachers.

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However, there are some German-speaking parents who are uncomfortable with having multilingual children from different cultural backgrounds learning together in one German-speaking classroom. In 2021, an informant filled me in concerning protests outside a German-speaking school where there had been a ‘big debate’ with some members of the school not wanting immigrant children in their kindergarten. It is acts like these, which Lucia believes ‘makes [the situation] worse…when locals want to keep children separated from other cultures.’ That said, these concerns are not normally expressed in rural areas that are solely German-speaking since villagers are limited, based on geographical location, on the types of schools available for their children. While some villages are perceived as culturally ‘closed-minded’, most village children attend German-speaking schools. Rarely, in a village, would a German- or Italian-speaking parent decide to place their children in an Italian-speaking school. Those who do may prefer the Italian-speaking schools because they are much smaller in size or because the parents want their children to have exposure to the second language.

Otherwise, stated Weronika, parents assume that by placing their children in a German-speaking school, the children will become more socially integrated by learning the dialect and High German. Even some bilingual families will send their children to German-speaking schools under the belief that the children need to understand the dialect or ‘they will never fully integrate into society.’ That is why bilingual parents, Maria and Ricardo, decided to place their son in German-speaking education. Their belief was that Italian is much easier to learn and could be learned at home as well as on the streets, but German is a language that is harder to acquire and would be better learned at a younger age. Although they debated whether they would place their son in Italian-speaking schools when he is older, the mutual consensus was to start with German-speaking schools and see how he progresses in the language. But there are some bilingual families who struggle to find the best ‘overall fit’ for their children. Clarissa and Ludovico decided to place

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their daughter in an Italian-speaking school. Since English was the mother tongue spoken at home, both agreed she needed to learn more Italian. But as the couple live in a predominately German-speaking city, their daughter needed to learn High German and dialect. When it came to school selection, Clarissa admitted that choosing a school for her children was her ‘biggest worry’ since the family could not find a happy medium as there were no bilingual schools located in their area. While the German-speaking schools have a better reputation and give children access to German-speaking countries (i.e., Austria, Switzerland, and Germany), Clarissa stated that their ‘reasons for choosing an Italian-­ speaking school [were] because we moved to Italy to live in Italy…it would be silly if our children didn’t speak Italian,’ even if most locals normally speak German. Therefore, they decided that after Italian-speaking kindergarten they would place their daughter in a German-speaking school, but ‘if we’re all miserable after one year of German schooling we might switch back to Italian-speaking schools.’

 he Role of the Family in Learning the Second T Language When researching data in South Tyrol on the role of local families on second language learning, I wanted to consider not only multilingual families, but also German- and Italian-speaking ones. My objective was to understand how families can impact language learning through intergroup exposure, as well as verify how parents play an active part in encouraging more language use at home. While in Chap. 6, I discuss how families may influence their children’s views towards other language groups, I have opted to go further in seeing how families encourage their children to learn the second language. For parents in Bozen-Bolzano and Meran-Merano who try to promote the second language outside of school, some have tried to have their children interact with other neighbours who are fluent in the other official language. Others employ foreign nannies or have their children study abroad to make up for the language learned in schools, while some

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bilingual parents use both languages at home to make up for any gaps in the school system. Other parents, on the contrary, do not see the urgent need to promote the second language in the home. From their perspective, they themselves do not know the second language and are reliant on the schools for language learning. Yet, regardless of these differences, in 2008 Ján Figel gave an interview at the Free University of Bozen-Bolzano on the importance of early language education. As the European commissioner of Education, Training, Culture, and Youth,3 he believed that families ‘[needed] to initiate’ the learning of other languages and to ‘put pressure on institutions to obtain what they want’ (see Hell 2008a) from education. However, he expressed that this pressure from parents ‘[needed] to start at the bottom’ but ‘people are legitimately scared, and politicians often play with these fears’ to prevent assimilation (ibid.). Be that as it may, there seems to be a social shift that is starting from the ground up, but according to Chiara, ‘there are people [at the top] who try to slow [things] down.’ But even with these social setbacks, Florian explained that local politics have altered for the better ‘because there are more people who [want] to do something’4 and see more changes in the South Tyrolean school system. That said, Chiara had a friend who supported advocating bilingual kindergarten. While there are many reasons to finance this idea, government spending does not endorse bilingual teaching. Additionally, she stated that language groups want control of their educational choices and decisions. This is a big issue between German and Italian schools because it’s not only a matter of organisation, but no school wants another group telling them what to do. And that’s not only [something] that the schools say to the local government, but it’s also because the Italians don’t want the [majority] German-speaking government to tell them what to do. There’s a lot of power, effort and a waste of energy spent on stupid stuff like this.

Nevertheless, Chiara believed that South Tyrolean ‘[top officials] cannot go against [linguistic] evolution.’

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You cannot stop the evolution of a language, which is made by people being in touch with other people. Everyone was speaking Latin [in Europe] and then it evolved into other languages due to people coming from other areas. There’s no way that you can stop the learning of other languages. To stop the process would be so narrow-minded.

Therefore, Chiara explained that when it came to language learning she was not solely reliant on the school system. Instead, her children were in a ‘privileged position’ since they grew up in a bilingual-speaking household. Those children who grow up in monolingual-speaking households are linguistically disadvantaged as the official second language is not used at home, which makes second language learning far more difficult. As a result, there are parents who have learned to work around the South Tyrolean education system by searching for extra second language practice to improve their children’s fluency. But rather than suggest a need for social revolution, Chiara has ‘enough things to do…so rather than picking a battle [over bilingual education],’ she prefers ‘finding another way of handling things.’ The problem is that we, as South Tyroleans, are not desperate. We are far from desperate. We have all the benefits of German and Italian structure. We have precision, order and organisation from the Germans, but we also have the culture from the Italian side, which is a nice mix. And I think that the general quality of life here is very good (especially if people eat croissant in the morning). And in order to change things from within you need a lot of engagement. And people just don’t bother.

So, for Chiara she searched for opportunities outside of school for her children to practice their Italian. Some families will also interact with multilingual neighbours so that their children are exposed to other languages. When I interviewed Rita, a German language teacher, she explained that her Italian-speaking colleagues had their children play with their German-speaking neighbours in order to improve their language skills: …the Italian-speaking teachers from previous generations lived through a difficult time due to the separation between German- and Italian-speaking

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people and they do not want their children to go through the same situation again. If you speak with a couple of my Italian-speaking colleagues they will say to their kids, “Go downstairs and speak with your German neighbours” because they know that it is a resource and it is a good opportunity to practice. When my colleagues went to school, the province at the time decided that the schools should have different school schedules for the different language groups. The schools began and ended at different times so that the kids couldn’t meet each other. Also, the breaks were at different times because the German- and Italian-speaking schools were right next door to each other. Personally, I think that the school officials wanted to prevent the German- and Italian-speaking students from interacting. For these reasons, I think Italian-speaking teachers, today, want to make sure that their children receive as much exposure to the second language as possible.

Her observations complimented similar results collected by Eurac Research who found in 2012 that the majority of parents (at least 90 percent), regardless of their linguistic affiliation, did not believe that learning the official second language was a ‘loss of time’. Instead, more than 70 percent of South Tyrolean parents encouraged their children to practice and study the official second language (Abel et al. 2012a: 343). While only 45 percent of German- and Italian-speaking parents ‘[encouraged] their children to look for contacts and immerse themselves in environments where one speaks the [second language]’, bilingual-speaking parents were more inclined at 63 percent (see Abel et al. 2012a: 344). From an integrative standpoint, the researchers at Eurac who compiled the KOLPSI report found that half of German- and Italian-speaking parents thought that their children should learn each other’s language to better integrate into society (Abel et al. 2012a: 344). Of the parents who were surveyed, 47.1 percent of German-speakers and 44.8 percent of Italian-speakers believed it was ‘very-extremely important’5 that their children ‘[mastered] the [second language] to make friends’ and develop relationships with ‘South Tyroleans who speak the [second language]’ (ibid.). While their research also found additional motives for wanting to learn the second language, Eurac researchers discovered that instrumental factors held more ‘weight’ compared to integrative ones. With parents

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largely focused on wanting to make sure that their children find employment, over two-thirds of German- (80.8 percent) and Italian-speaking parents (77.2 percent) indicated that it was ‘very-extremely important6 that their children learn the [second language] because [it] permits’ them ‘to have…better opportunities to work’ (Abel et  al. 2012a: 345–346). Important instrumental factors also included finding work in public administration (71 percent for German-speaking parents and 66.2 percent for Italian-speaking parents), as well as children being able to obtain the Patentino (58 percent for German-speaking parents and 64 percent for Italian-speaking parents), an issue I addressed in Chap. 6 (Abel et al. 2012a: 346). However, there are still parents who continue to find themselves unsure as to where to place their children, since the school that they choose might mean that their children will prefer one language over another. Rita told me the story of one ‘mixed’ couple who placed their son in an Italian-speaking nursery. One day he decided that he no longer wanted to speak German to ‘fit in’ with his classmates. As a result, his inclination to ‘blend in’ had an adverse effect on second language learning. While parents, like Johanna, tried to prevent this problem by placing her child in German- and Italian-speaking schools, this action always runs the risk of children having to start over in order to make new friends. Therefore, Heidi suggested that there are other ways that children can learn another language. Many parents do not realise that their children can postpone university and try to work abroad. In her opinion, there are benefits to working overseas allowing children to ‘live a little bit’. But some parents want their children to finish university early so they can get a job and leave the family household. Through this process they forget that without the second language their children cannot apply for civil service positions. Yet some parents are so fixated on wanting to make sure that their children find employment that they ignore the major box that their children must up-tick for many jobs, which require the second language. One item to consider is whether monolingual families should reinforce the second language in the home. In an interview with Donna, she discussed the downsides to living in a monolingual household.

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We have a diverse culture, but you have to consider that people watch Italian or German television here. If I go home and I only watch German television, I am in a world all of my own. If I only listen and speak Italian…I end up living in a [cultural] cage.

Florian also added that Italian-speaking families should not be ‘completely Italian’. If an Italian-speaking family wants their child to learn German, they should not rely too heavily on German language teachers. If parents do not provide access to books, television shows or movies in German, he believes that their children will not have incentives to practice German outside of school. In one example, he described how his Italian-speaking colleague had a child who had studied German for three years, and yet the child could not say ‘My name is…’ in German as they did not encourage German in the home. In Eurac’s KOLPISI report, their research indicated that in 2012 only 28.3 percent of German-speaking children and 19.9 percent of Italian-­ speaking children ‘[watched] films often, [followed] programmes on TV or the radio or read books in [the second language]’ (Abel et al. 2012a: 225–226). But the researchers also noted ‘that many Italian-speaking parents [transferred] to South Tyrol’ as adults and as a consequence ‘attended schools where it [was not obligatory] to study the [second language]’ (ibid.).7 This may explain why up to 52.2 percent of Italian-speaking children said that their families did not encourage these activities, but this does not explain why 31.8 percent of German-speaking children said that their families did the same (see Abel et al. 2012a: 226). Either way, when it comes to parental involvement when reinforcing second language use at home: Families [monolingual or otherwise] need to be encouraged to become partners in the education of their children by such simple acts as reading aloud with them in whatever language feels most comfortable and helping them with homework. If possible, parents should provide books for the home in both languages, and encourage their children to read them for enjoyment, to analyze and ask questions about them, and/or to use them as resources for homework. (Richard-Amato 2003: 126)

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Abel et al. also explain that the more ‘parents use the [second language] in daily life’ through reading books, watching TV, or listening to the radio, their children demonstrate better linguistic proficiency (see 2012b: 178) in the second language. But more importantly, children tend to learn by example through the behaviours replicated by their parents. Towards the conclusion of their research, Abel et al. wrote a small section on the ‘influence of parents’ where they deduced that: …the effective use of the [second language] on the part of the parents presents a positive and significant connection with the [second language] proficiency of children. This result indicates…that it is above all the concrete behaviour of parents, or their effective use of the [second language which has] an important influence on the effective proficiency of the child in the production and comprehension of the [second language]. In other words, to have an influence on children it is not so much what the parents say, but rather what they really do, the example that they give (2012a: 175) which has an impact on second language learning.

Ergo, it would seem that parents play an active role in reinforcing second language acquisition, but to influence their children they need to demonstrate what it looks like to try to be a multilingual speaker. Although being a member of a multilingual family has its linguistic advantages, parents must be involved in the language learning process to foster their children’s own language development.

Is ‘Free Choice’ in Education Really a Free Choice? The ‘Free Choice principle’, or Article 19, paragraph 3 of the Second Autonomy Statute, gave parents ‘the right to enrol their children into schools of their choice’ (Alber 2012: 406) ‘regardless of his/her mother tongue’ (see Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 236). Within the course of several years, many parents took this ‘rule’ and applied it to second language acquisition. If technically by law the child had the right to attend German-, Italian-, and/or Ladin-speaking schools, then legally the child could attend a school in their second language. For Italian-speaking parents, the ‘Free Choice principle’ allowed them to overcome legal

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barriers (Peterlini 2013: 124), which previously forbade Italian-speaking students from attending German-speaking schools. While initially German-speaking education did not permit the enrolment of Italian-­ speaking students, overtime German-speaking school authorities relaxed their policies on accepting non-German-speaking students (see Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 236 for more information). That said, there are still caveats which are attached to the ‘Free Choice principle’ in that the ‘right’ to place one’s child in a school based on their parents’ choice ‘cannot be abused to influence in any manner the language of instruction of the respective school’ (see Alber 2012: 406). This means that school authorities have ‘the right to refuse [the] enrolment’ of a child if their ‘linguistic ability is considered…insufficient to attend classes in the language of the school’ (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 236). While parents are allowed to ‘challenge the school’s decision in front of the Administrative Court’ (ibid.), this does not guarantee the child will be accepted into a school that is not in their mother tongue. Over the past few years South Tyrol has seen a shift in German-­ speaking education with local news reports announcing ‘the SVP’s strategy… to discourage the enrolment of Italian and non-European children in German-speaking kindergarten’ (see Mattioli 2017). Mirroring the comments made above by my informant who referred to anti-­immigration sentiments, the SVP declared that starting in 2018–2019 school enrolment would be centralised in Bozen-Bolzano, Meran-Merano and Leifers-Laives ‘and non-mother tongue children [would] no longer have the right’ to attend schools ‘indicated by their parents’ (see ibid.; see Merli 2017 for more information). In their effort to reduce the number of Italian-speakers and ‘foreigners’ in German-speaking classrooms, one teacher commented on the ‘racist attitude’ and difficulties teaching in German-speaking schools: …I always feel more uncomfortable and unprepared, because society asks us to create bilingual people, while politics prevents us. The obligation [in schools] to talk only and exclusively in one’s own language would be understandable if there was an alternative, or a bilingual school, but there isn’t and families do what they can. (see Mattioli 2017; Merli 2017)

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In one instance, I learned of a German-speaking mother who wrote a formal complaint in a South Tyrolean publication regarding a school’s decision to put her child on probation. The child who was raised in a bilingual-speaking household, ‘was cared for by an Italian-speaking childminder’ (Marko 2008: 386). But upon her child’s enrolment into a German-speaking kindergarten, the school placed the child on probation for twenty-five days because her child was in contact with an Italian-­ speaking caregiver. According to the school, it wanted to validate that the child had ‘a competent knowledge of German’ (ibid.), so in response to the school’s decision the mother wrote a letter, which was published in a weekend magazine: [When speaking other languages] [i]t is almost as if one speaks of an infectious illness and not of an enrichment. Did you know that many children are thereby hindered from learning good German even though it is the language of one of their parents? On the one hand, you [officials and school administration] speak highly of justice; on the other hand, you allow such rules. This can never really lead to an understanding between the language groups.8

Donna explained that while in theory South Tyroleans have a ‘choice’ in school selection for their children, there is a fear in German-speaking circles of increased immersion education, which could lead to a bilingual schooling system. In her opinion: The problem lies with politicians who impede language groups from finding a commonality. The language groups, as a whole, do not have problems with immersion education. They speak the other local languages. Some say, “We’re Italian, so we must speak Italian” and others say, “This is South Tyrol”. And the thing is: nobody forgets the language of their own culture. But there is this fear of losing your roots…. [And] nowadays we have this added drama because we have to choose either a German or Italian school for our children. Why do we have to choose? I was born here and I’m used to living in an area that’s bilingual. If I go to a café and someone talks to me in German, I respond to them in German. It’s not a problem. It’s a wonderful thing to be able to speak in another language and it makes it easier to communicate. (Wand 2016)

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But unfortunately, not all South Tyroleans agree with Donna’s opinions towards bilingual education, which is why there are parents who constantly debate over which language school for their children (see ibid.). Since some parents and politicians have mild trepidations with having second language speakers in their schools, the question then becomes: Is the concept of ‘Free Choice’ as ‘free’ as politicians would suggest?

Part II: Talking With Students Despite existing concerns with ‘Free Choice’ education, in the early 2000s a student exchange programme called ‘Un anno in L2’ (a year in the second language), or ‘Zweitsprachjahr’ in German, was approved by the South Tyrolean government.9 Established and designed to promote student exchanges between German- and Italian-speaking high schools, the objective was to allow upper secondary students to practice and improve their second language skills by taking their high school courses for a semester or a year at a high school in the official second language. But to qualify students needed to demonstrate an ‘adequate knowledge’ of the second language in order to ‘participate in all curricular and extracurricular activities [at their chosen] scholastic institution…’10 In 2013, journalist Paolo Bill Valente discussed the success rate of the programme. From 2012 to 2013, ninety-one South Tyrolean students enrolled in the student exchange programme, with sixty-three German-­ speakers and twenty-eight Italian-speakers opting for full second language immersion classes (Valente 2013). While technically the programme is legally obliged to last for a least one semester, the majority of students who sign up for the programme continue for two years. When he interviewed students involved in the programme, they were content to now be bilingual, had made friends with the other language group, and knew of the importance of a ‘mixed’ social environment. These language exchanges, according to the students, might help their classmates to learn other ways of thinking as:

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the “geographic” proximity of the [German- and Italian-speaking] schools [means] we [as students] really know very little about the scholastic activities in the other [language] schools.

Another student stated that without these exchanges this could contribute to a ‘closed mentality’ and one should ‘use this experience to better understand the other half of South Tyrol!’ (ibid.) Does this mean that ‘Un anno in L2’ could function as a form of bilingual education? Or is this programme one more step towards potentially establishing a multilingual education system? When researchers at Eurac in 2012 asked students ‘to imagine a future scenario in which…there were only bilingual schools in South Tyrol’ students answered whether they would have ‘fears or hopes’ placing their child in a bilingual school (Abel et  al. 2012a: 261). ‘Synthesizing the results, around 40–50%’ of students did not have any fears, while approximately 30 percent were ‘a little’ apprehensive, and 20 to 30 percent were ‘rather’ or ‘very’ concerned (ibid.). As for expressing ‘hope’ regarding these imagined schools, the percentages were much higher with around 93 percent hoping their children would be able to learn both languages well. Of the percentages, ‘80.8 percent of German-speakers and 90 percent of Italian-speakers’ thought that attending ‘a bilingual school would guarantee their child [to have] a more open mind’ (Abel et al. 2012a: 262). Nevertheless, when I interviewed informants who were students or had been students in South Tyrol’s school system, when asked whether they thought bilingual education would ‘solve’ South Tyrol’s linguistic barriers, I was met with criticism at proposing the idea of merging German- and Italian-speaking schools. This, despite the KOLPISI report publishing results that the majority of students that they surveyed thought ‘the advantages of a bilingual school would exceed the disadvantages’(ibid.). Instead, some informants thought that second language learning could occur in the current schooling system. I also met informants who believed that the German- and Italian-speaking schools were so different that they would contradict each other, and that combining the school systems would disappoint, rather than unify, both groups.

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Students’ Views Towards Bilingual Education That said, while those perspectives do not indicate that a bilingual schooling system is not possible, they speak to the ‘mixed’ views of many South Tyroleans on their opinions towards bilingual education. Although ‘Un anno in L2’ is one linguistic method to circumvent the education system, there are students who are satisfied with segregated learning and understand the reasons for the current system. Cassidy Cassidy, who grew up in a bilingual-speaking household, spent her early years in German-speaking schools. But once she reached high school her parents transferred her to an Italian-speaking school. In her opinion, she believed that it was a good idea to have separate German- and Italian-speaking schools, and that as for language learning, both schooling systems were capable of teaching the official second language. ‘In England’, she explained, ‘no one goes to an Italian-speaking school. Everyone goes to an English-speaking school. So, in Bolzano because we have both German- and Italian-speakers, we have both German- and Italian-speaking schools.’ Stefania and Giovanni Stefania did not understand the relevance of bilingual education. ‘If the students and schools become bilingual, the school programme would be all about language and not about science and other subjects.’ As her parents were both Italian, she was not qualified to attend German-­ speaking preschool. But she still maintained that South Tyrolean group relations were not affected by the education system. Although she still admitted that German- and Italian-speakers did not always ‘mix’ outside of school, these group divisions could be found in work environments as well, or sometimes in Bozen-Bolzano’s city centre. Conversely, Giovanni thought the education system did not impact his networking abilities, but he preferred the idea of a bilingual schooling system so that both groups could be in contact with each other. Max Max, who grew up in German-speaking education, transferred to an Italian-­speaking high school. Having studied in both systems, the idea

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of merging German- and Italian-speaking schools was not pragmatic. In German-speaking education, he explained that the mentality, teaching ideology, and educational structure are different. ‘[T]he students have more respect for their teachers. We have to do what they say,’ whereas student-teacher relationships in Italian-speaking schools are not as rigid nor as strictly defined. In Italian-speaking education, ‘If a teacher says something, everyone laughs and the students decide whether or not they want to listen to the teacher.’ Italian-speaking teachers are more friendly and willing to help students, whereas German-­speaking teachers are ‘just there to teach you. If you don’t want to learn, that’s your problem.’ In the past, his relationships with German-speaking teachers had resulted in him switching schools. Based on his experience: The German-speaking teachers think they are better than the students. Their motto is: “Because we are the teachers, you should do exactly as we say.” Even if the teachers claim that everybody should be treated equally, it’s not uncommon to hear a teacher say to a student, “You, on the first day of school, you made a bad first impression so I will treat you worse than the other students.” These comments are not meant for revenge, but are designed to teach students on how to respect those who are above them. The idea is to inform students about the importance of respecting their elders. Personally, I always had problems with these kinds of teachers. I always did what I thought was right. If a student argued with a teacher and said his or her opinion, which was the opposite of the teacher’s opinion, that was a no-go. German-speaking teachers will stomp you to the ground. One time, I was arguing with my German-speaking teacher because of something political. She was against a certain political measure and I was in support of this particular legislation, and she threw me out of the class. As far as I’m concerned, if someone is not able to accept another opinion, that’s immature. If the teacher is immature, that’s not right. I don’t want to learn from people like them.

As a result, Max transferred to an Italian-speaking high school where he found the school system more relaxed. At the beginning, it was difficult for him to learn the terms for certain subjects, like maths or sci-

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ence, but over time he developed the right vocabulary to express himself thanks to the help of his Italian-speaking friends. While his Italian-speaking mother may have helped him linguistically adjust to an Italian-speaking school, his experience suggests that although students may grow up in one language environment, South Tyroleans are still capable of switching schooling systems, even if the school is in another language. That said, Max was not in support of the idea of bilingual education, but stated that German-speakers are more open-minded to learning the official second language. Since structurally and culturally German-­ speaking education is so diverse from Italian-speaking schools, ‘mixed’ bilingual education might increase language tensions if the two groups are forced to learn with one another. Anna Anna also thought that bilingual education realistically was not achievable. The teaching systems in both German- and Italian-speaking schools are ‘so different’ from each other ‘that they might interfere with the “balance”’ established through the ‘separate but equal’ schooling system. Having said that, Anna thought that there were pros and cons to implementing bilingual education. ‘The cons are that we’ve always had a separate schooling system’ which led to two different styles of teaching. If the schools were to attempt to become one schooling system, didactically this process could not happen since it would be a challenge to choose one teaching model for German- and Italian-speaking students. Administratively speaking, ‘from a bureaucratic level it [would be] difficult to make this a reality.’ …the [South Tyrolean] administration…creates tensions between the two groups. Sometimes the administration favours one group over others and this creates tensions. And this is why it’s difficult for both [language] groups to work together.

Although Anna admitted there are teachers in the province who support bilingual education, there are others who are concerned that combining the school systems could result in a loss of their own culture.

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Yet, despite ‘separate but equal’ education in schools, Anna thought that the school system really worked. By having separate schooling systems ‘you have two ways of thinking. You’re more open to new experiences.’ The separate language groups also learn to co-exist: because it teaches you to respect other cultures. Without the German influence, Italians would not have the same respect towards their linguistic neighbours, nor would they have developed an environmental awareness to protect their mountains and community.

Ashley Ashley, on the other hand, considered segregated schooling in South Tyrol as non-beneficial. While she thought that language learning was a positive component to South Tyrolean education, linguistically, the German-speakers had a better comprehension of Italian than Italian-­ speakers did of knowing German. Therefore, she believed that this imbalance could be solved through the use of immersion language courses if some subjects were taught in the official second language in order to develop one’s vernacular. In her opinion: If students are able to take some high school classes in the second language, it’s better because students will grow up knowing both German and Italian perfectly.

Although bilingual education in the South Tyrol school system was a concept that she thoroughly supported, from a practical perspective, she believed it would never really happen. Politics and history would prevent bilingual schooling from establishing its roots in South Tyrol. If bilingual education became mandatory, ‘German[-speakers]…might go to Austria to attend German[-speaking] schools or Italian[-speaker]s might go to Italian-speaking schools further south in order to avoid bilingual schooling.’ Even though in South Tyrol there are bilingual families who would welcome bilingual education, there are parents who would prefer the separate schooling system in order to preserve their mother tongue.

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Moreover, Ashley thought that bilingual education would change South Tyrolean society. These changes ‘would have social and political consequences’ that would infiltrate into the lives of the community. Therefore, she thought it would be better if the groups ‘got rid’ of their stigmas towards each other. Not only would it benefit the local economy if the groups could converge with one another, but a deeper sense of peace would break down the social walls that currently prevent assimilation. Weronika and Evi For Weronika and Evi, who went to German-speaking schools in the 1980s and the 1990s, they thought bilingual education would bring an added value to South Tyrolean society. But rather than installing only bilingual schools, it would be better if they functioned as a part of the already established ‘separate but equal’ schooling system, and became an additional fourth option. Then parents could have choices between placing their children in German- or Italian-speaking schools, Ladin-speaking education, or the possibility of enrolling their children in bilingual schools.11 With these varied responses to bilingual education, it becomes quite easy to understand why there is no automatic resolution whether to have a bilingual education schooling system. While ‘Un anno in L2’ is a decent alternative for students searching for more bilingual options, the programme is no guarantee that there will be a ‘natural’ shift towards authorising bilingual schools in South Tyrol. As a result, bilingual schools are not a ready-made solution for modifying the monolingual schooling system if there are students who are satisfied or used to a school system that largely keeps the language groups divided. That is why it is important to incorporate the views not only of the parents and the politicians (see below), but to see how those affected by legislative measures might respond to radical school changes.

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Part III: Talking With Teachers Those impacted by the school system not only involve the German- and Italian-speaking students, but also include the teachers who are constantly adjusting to continued educational reforms. In response to schooling measures, some second language teachers have openly supported using CLIL, while others have rejected this type of language teaching, especially for poor performing students. Then there are those teachers who tried over the years to encourage multilingual school exchanges through game day events or pen-friend partnerships between German- and Italian-speaking students. However, even with their efforts, there are some local schools that would prefer to maintain some sort of distance, making language learning programmes with other South Tyrolean schools a challenging, continued work in progress.

Educational Attempts at Immersion Teaching With regards to language teaching, while Italian-speaking schools have been open towards incorporating CLIL, German-speaking education tends to be more apprehensive in its use of immersion didactics (see Chap. 5). That said, for several decades, there are second language teachers who have tried to improve their teaching methods. During the 1970s when language class exchanges were prohibited (see Lanthaler 2007: 228) by the local government, the 1980s saw a need by several families to ‘underline the importance of learning the second language’ (see Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 78) so that by the 1990s South Tyrolean society shifted in the way language learning was accomplished. Early second language teaching emerged in education, along with student and class language exchanges, as well as studying vacations, and voluntary projects involving extracurricular scholastic activities (see Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 98). However, due to the political and ethnic controversies in South Tyrol, these experimental teaching programmes have historically been conducted in a ‘semi-clandestine’ fashion so that they do

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not ‘arouse the suspicion of being mistaken [for] the much feared “immersion” [education]’ (see ibid.). In 1992, when the first attempts were made in Italian-speaking schools ‘to introduce immersion teaching’ (Abel 2007: 240; see Baur and Medda-­ Windischer 2008: 247), these efforts at ‘improving pupils’ competence in German…were [eventually] rejected by the provincial government’ (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 247). By February 1996, the concept of ‘team teaching’ was also rejected. This ‘team teaching’ or ‘co-presence’ in elementary education provided students with two teachers for the classroom, one of whom spoke the mother tongue while the other teacher spoke the official second language. But ‘[a]fter months of intense arguments in the press’, this teaching method was removed (Baur and Medda-­ Windischer 2008: 247), citing Article 19 of the Second Autonomy Statute, which: prohibits the use of the second language as a language of instruction and the simultaneous presence of a German-speaking and an Italian-speaking teacher in the same class. (Abel 2007: 240)

‘At the same time, the term “immersion” became taboo’ (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 247), specifically amongst the German-­ speaking community, as the concept was considered ‘a threat to mother tongue instruction’, so ‘alternative labels’ were used (Abel 2007: 240). Then in 1997, the local government published a series of ‘“Guidelines for German as a second language in [Italian-speaking] primary and secondary schools”’ (see Abel 2007: 240). According to these guidelines, the second language could ‘be used to convey content and that second language projects’ could ‘be carried out’ through an increased number of hours (ibid.) as part of the curriculum. Such guidelines were thought to: emphasize the centeredness of pupils and active learning, placing importance on interculturality, authentic communication contexts and after-­ school measures, such as partnerships. (Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008: 247)

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But these guidelines did not stipulate that immersion teaching could be used in South Tyrolean schools given that ‘the provincial council [refused] to officially recognise immersion teaching’ as of 2012 (see Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 98). Therefore, language exchanges with other South Tyrolean schools have been one way to encourage second language learning with 70.9 percent of South Tyroleans in favour of ‘more exchanges between various scholastic institutions of diverse language(s)’ (see ASTAT 2015: 62). But of these percentages, Italian-speakers are more supportive at 86.1 percent, while German-speakers are somewhat less inclined to encourage these exchanges at 65.4 percent (see ASTAT 2015: 65). While this data suggests that scholastic school exchanges are of interest to both language communities, there are difficulties that come with trying to connect German- with Italian-speaking schools. Since the Germanand Italian-speaking school systems ‘are completely divided…especially here in Bolzano’ Heidi explained that this division meant that students had very few friends from the other language group. Although CLIL-type initiatives like ‘Un anno in L2’ and pen-friend exchanges are possible, they require continual correspondence with the other language school. In the end, Heidi described how she had one pen-­ friend exchange with a German-speaking school, but the programme only lasted for a year or two, which she admitted was a concurrent problem. To keep the programmes going, they depended on teacher motivation, and usually the programmes fell apart. Therefore, most pen-friend exchanges were typically conducted with schools in Austria or Germany. For teachers like Concetta, she has come to accept that the school system will always be divided. Consequently, it is up to local schools to try to build relations with other South Tyrolean schools. At her Italian-­ speaking high school, she thought they had made strides to reach out to other German-speaking schools by holding competitions so that both language groups could interact with one another. The objective of these games was for schools to gather points in sports, theatre and music, so that German- and Italian-speaking students could learn to develop their second language fluency. Unfortunately, not all schools in South Tyrol were interested in participating in these games, especially those schools located outside of the

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cities, which are predominately only German-speaking. According to Concetta, if intercultural communication is to be achieved, teachers and students need to make constant efforts, but many people are not willing to put in the energy. Similar to comments made above by Chiara, Concetta added that it was the German-speakers who wanted to maintain their social distance, and preferred not to work with Italian-speaking schools. While this is clearly not the case for all German-speakers (see Chaps. 5 and 6), let alone German-speaking schools, there is still some unease in German-speaking education when it comes to immersion education (see above). The word ‘immersion’, Donna states, for some German-­ speakers is: a symbol of Fascism, and the Germans are afraid that they could lose their culture. [In their eyes], Italy is a country that they feel eats up other cultures. So some German-speakers…are afraid of assimilation [even though] present times are not violent like they were during the Fascist period…

To alleviate these issues, Donna wrote local officials asking for more teacher exchanges. In her proposal, she and her colleagues requested that teacher exchanges be used in German- and Italian-speaking schools as a means to incorporate the official second language into the classroom. Their request was based on research which found the school curriculum did not encourage multilingual interactions. As a result, Donna requested that the CLIL method be used, alongside a school-teacher exchange programme, so that courses could be taught by teachers of the second language to prepare students for the global workforce. With the majority of informants in Forer et al.’s research in support of ‘a school where 50% of the teaching is carried out in the mother tongue and the other 50%’ is in the second language, ‘the creation of a multilingual…context’ (2008) is clearly of interest to some South Tyroleans. However, the school system does not seem to indicate that it has plans to reform language instruction, which is why Donna decided to develop extra-curricular programmes for German- and Italian-speaking students. When she taught at an Italian-speaking high school she set up an afterschool theatre programme where Italian-speaking students were required

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to act in the German language. The results were so positive that her German-speaking students participated in something similar. Other teachers have suggested alternative methods to promote better second language learning. Chiara, who, at times, has worked as a language teacher, said that her children received substandard language learning. As a result, she offered another suggestion on how to modify the education system. Since currently most students are placed in language classes according to their age, this means that their comprehension of the second language will vary from student to student. As some classes may consist of bilingual-speakers, and include monolingual-speaking students, this can cause teaching difficulties for the language teacher when trying to instruct the class. If the work is too basic for bilingual students, those students will become disinterested. Therefore, Chiara thinks it would make more sense for students to take a language test to assess their fluency before they are placed in a language class. If children are encouraged to work with other students whose language skills are equal to their own, this could reduce the learning gaps in second language learning that presently exist in education. Secondly, Chiara thought that all students should conduct a school exchange through ‘Un anno in L2’. ‘Then people would be obliged to learn the second language because you wouldn’t have another way around it.’ But in order to endorse a proposal like this, local government support would be essential. Another item to consider is the use of school material when it comes to teaching local history. Some fifteen years ago, Eurac researchers discovered that German- and Italian-speaking schools focused on different themes when it came to teaching history, especially within South Tyrol. The German-speaking schools were more patriotic and discussed events which ‘occurred in the province after the annexation of Italy’ (Forer et al. 2008), while Italian-speaking schools had an educational programme which mirrored other regions in the country (see ibid.). With Germanspeaking schools teaching South Tyrolean history through ‘a major German slant’, it was felt by one teacher that German-speaking schools focused more on the Fascist occupation, and overlooked the Nazi impact on South Tyrol, which was also a part of local history.

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Fast forward several years, and the school system now teaches both sides of South Tyrolean history using textbooks that are meant to be less biased describing how events unfolded in the province. However, while these textbooks could be useful tools to encourage better intergroup cohesion, it is still up for debate whether rewriting local history could improve one’s interest in the second language.

Reservations Towards the CLIL Method When I arranged to meet with Heidi to discuss her opinions about the education system, I had been under the impression that all language teachers supported schools in implementing CLIL. But there were some teachers who thought that the CLIL method might worsen second language learning issues (see also Chap. 5), especially if it was used later on in high school rather than during early education. Instead, Heidi believed that, ‘If we had bilingual schools…[from the beginning] it would make things so much easier because people would realise that bilingualism is a part of daily life, which today it’s not…’ If schools are to use CLIL it should be when students are younger starting in elementary school ‘[when students’ brains are more capable of absorbing the language]…You shouldn’t wait until students are at the end of their high school education’ when she thought it was too late to incorporate CLIL.  Since she knew that I taught Anthropology in English to Italian-speaking high school students, she explained that they excelled in my class because their level of English was already almost fluent. Salvatore also thought that the CLIL method should not be introduced to South Tyrolean schools because to study German it requires a lot of grammar in order to build a good language foundation. Only then did he believe that South Tyrolean students could learn subjects through another language, but from what I understood, his students’ knowledge of High German was too poor to suggest they learn through CLIL.

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Part IV: Talking With Politicians Salvatore was not the only teacher who had his own misgivings towards immersion education. As an Italian-speaker who grew up in Germany, he thought that students needed more of a transition, and that rushing to use CLIL might have reverse effects in helping students to perfect the second language. There were also politicians, as mentioned in Chap. 5, in favour of delaying second language learning. Given that the German-speakers had a better reputation for understanding the official second language, German-speaking politicians were more focused on maintaining some form of German language preservation. For some this meant supporting ‘separate but equal’ education through continued monolingual instruction with the second language taught as part of the curriculum, but not a vehicle for teaching other subjects. ‘Subtractive bilingualism’, or learning ‘a second language at the expense of ’ the mother tongue,12 was a fear that was expressed by some South Tyroleans with regards to second language instruction.13 There are good reasons for this as Lightbrown and Spada state that it ‘may have lasting negative consequences’ (see 1999: 164) if the language learned in school starts to dominate and overpower the language used at home. Therefore, they suggest that minority children might benefit from educational programmes where the first language is developed at home and at the same time encouraged at school. From their perspective, this approach ‘may be more important for long-term success in the second language than an early start in the second language itself ’ (see ibid.) when young students begin their education.14 Further research demonstrates that if children have a ‘good foundation’ of their mother tongue: [those] who…begin their schooling in a language they…know will have more self-confidence [and] will be able to learn more effectively in the early school years, and will not lose valuable time in a period of limbo during which they struggle just to understand what is happening in the classroom. (see ibid.)

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One informant even went so far as to suggest that early teaching of the second language would not lead ‘“…to bilingualism, but rather a double semi-lingualism”’ (Forer et  al. 2008). Although research indicates that students can learn both their mother tongue alongside other languages (see Chap. 5; Artigal 1993; Baur and Medda-Windischer 2008), this does not discount concerns by some South Tyroleans who would prefer monolingual education. For Dr Peter Höllrigl, he was in support of ‘separate but equal’ education because for several decades ‘German-speakers had to adapt and learn the Italian language.’ Consequently, he believed that the education system should stay linguistically divided so that children can develop and learn their mother tongue in order to preserve their own identity.

Opinions on Bilingual Education In 2014, South Tyrolean provincial counsellor for the Green Party, Brigitte Foppa, filed a complaint directed at the President of South Tyrol, Arno Kompatscher. In her complaint she explained that she was greatly disappointed by his views on bilingual education. Kompatscher, a member of the SVP, supported monolingual education, a concept which Foppa thought was socially ‘behind the times’ and did not lead to a forward-­thinking South Tyrol.15 According to Kompatscher, bilingual education ‘would be dangerous’ for German-speaking students as they ‘learn the dialect at home’ and need to learn High German first before they learn the second language. Foppa, however, stated that Kompatscher’s declarations were ‘based on an old cliché’ and that South Tyrolean politics was going ‘back a step’ when it came to bilingual education. As a result, Foppa and her advocates referred to ‘studies [and] facts at international level’, which explained that children who are multilingual can activate more areas of their brain.16 With Nacamulli stating that multilingual brains can delay dementia and Alzheimer’s by up to five years (see 2015), there are long-term benefits to second language learning that go beyond improving local group relations. Moreover, Foppa tried to explain to local government that there are German- and Italian-speaking

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families who want bilingualism in the South Tyrolean school system, even if the SVP does not. In addition, she revealed that two separate schooling systems can make second language learning much more difficult,17 but her evidence did not persuade the SVP to change their minds regarding monolingual education. Although ‘[t]he [SVP] has…increasingly highlighted the need to blur the boundaries between’ the language groups (see Wisthaler 2015: 11), this need to practice the ‘“High language”’ or have access to ‘“High German”’ in German-speaking education has led the SVP ‘to blockade the street and any theories of bilingual education’ (see Giudiceandrea and Mazza 2012: 85). Instead, Kompastcher claimed that ‘a mixed school is a myth that has now disappeared’ and that it ‘is important to have an oriented school, with a first language, and…in particular for the German group, in which the school is often the place in which one learns pure German.’18 That said, this does not mean that students cannot have ‘CLIL experiences’ with other language groups, but this may be during recess, gym, or some language exchange through ‘Un anno in L2’.19 This resistance on the part of some politicians to consider bilingual education may have caused the backlash of Italian-speaking students now enrolling in German-speaking schools (see Chap. 5 for more information). In some cases, Italian-speakers constitute the majority of students in German-speaking classrooms with some numbers indicating that over half of the students are not German-speaking mother tongue. According to results conducted by the separatist national-conservative party, Süd-­ Tiroler Freiheit (South Tyrolean Freedom or STF), six classrooms in Bozen-Bolzano had ‘more than 50% of children’ who were not ‘of German mother tongue’ (Neve 2018). They also found a classroom in Meran-Merano where the number was more than 70 percent (see ibid.). With the STF’s leader, Svell Knoll, demonstrating a concern regarding German language learning, he declared that German-speaking children only occupy 10 percent of those enrolled in German-speaking classrooms. This was due to all the classrooms being ‘“occupied by foreigners and [Italian-speaking students]”’ (Neve 2018), presumably preventing German-speaking students from having access to adequate High German. As ‘the switch to standard German is experienced as being difficult for [German-speaking] children’ (see Visser 2017: 29), learning High

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German is more complicated when German-speaking teachers are ‘[forced]…to speak more in Italian’ (Hell 2008b). As a result, this may explain why the provincial council ‘decided to centralise the enrolment’ of students in nursery schools ‘“to prevent or limit the overcrowding of ”’ non-German-speaking students (see Neve 2018) in German-speaking classrooms. Even though Italian-speaking politicians, like Dr Christian Tommasini and Dr Francesco Palermo, are in support of plurilingual education (see Corni 2013 for more information; Palermo 2017), more backing from German-speaking politicians will be needed for the province to explore bilingual learning. But as ‘most political representatives and educational authorities…have…fiercely [resisted] the implementation of multilingual educational programmes in German-language schools’ (see Hofer and Jessner 2016: 77), these findings would suggest that amongst South Tyroleans there is no collective will to solve this problem. And until the politicians, educators, administrators, and parents agree on a solution to second language learning issues, it may take several years for the province to consider some form of a bilingual schooling system.

Notes 1. This does not include the Ladin-speaking school system, which, as I mentioned in Chaps. 1 and 2, practices multilingual education. 2. See Chap. 5 for more information. 3. For Figel’s exact title during the Barroso Commission (2004–2009) see: https://ec.europa.eu/archives/commission_2004-­2009/index_en.htm (European Commission 2010) [Accessed 13 January 2022]. 4. See Pallaver for a more in-depth discussion on how the interests of civil society, or those ‘“from the bottom”’, can have an impact and/or influence on ‘cultural elites’ in creating better ‘interethnic cooperation’ (see 2014: 378, 385). 5. The italics are from Abel et al. (2012a: 344). 6. The italics are from Abel et al. (2012a: 345). 7. The KOLPISI report indicated that ‘only 52.9% of Italian-speaking fathers and 64.5% of [Italian-speaking] mothers were born in [South

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Tyrol]’ as opposed to 95 percent of German-speaking parents who were born in the province (Abel et al. 2012a: 225). 8. See Anon (2001). Mein Kind auf Probe. ff-Südtiroler Wochenmagasin, 29 March, cited in Marko, J., 2008. Is there a South Tyrolean ‘model’ of conflict resolution to be exported? In: Woelk et al., eds. 2008. Tolerance through law: self governance and group rights in South Tyrol. Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. Ch. 19, p. 386 for more information. 9. For more information on ‘Un anno in L2’ see the South Tyrolean provincial administration’s website (Amministrazione Provincia Bolzano 2022): https://www.provincia.bz.it/formazione-­l ingue/scuola-­i taliana/ imparare-­lingue/un-­anno-­in-­l2.asp [Accessed 3 February 2022] or the Provincial Autonomy of Bozen-Bolzano’s brochure, Un anno in L2: un anno particolare a un passo da casa (2017) at: https://www.provinz.bz.it/ bildung-­sprache/didaktik-­beratung/downloads/Brochure_ita_2017.pdf [Accessed 9 November 2022]. 10. For more information on the required criteria to participate in ‘Un anno in L2’, see the Deliberazione della Giunta Provinciale 17 November 2008, no. 4250 or the Provincial Autonomy of Bozen-Bolzano’s brochure, Un anno in L2: un anno particolare a un passo da casa (2017) at: https://www. provinz.bz.it/bildung-­sprache/didaktik-­beratung/downloads/Brochure_ ita_2017.pdf [Accessed 9 November 2022]. 11. Although the Ladin-speaking school system practices a form of bilingual education in mostly German and Italian, the Ladin-speaking school districts are limited to the more remote valleys of Val Gardena and Val Badia. For a more detailed discussion on the Ladin-speaking school system see my doctoral thesis, Half spaghetti- half Knödel: cultural division through the lens of language learning (2016): https://ora.ox.ac.uk/objects/ uuid:d6391d08-­30ea-­4b78-­8fce-­c7ac684eb74a/download_file?file_ format=pdf&safe_filename=THESIS01&type_of_work=Thesis [Accessed 11 June 2020]. 12. For more information on ‘Subtractive bilingualism’, see the Waterford. org website (2020): https://www.waterford.org/education/additive-­vs-­ s u b t r a c t i v e -­b i l i n g u a l i s m / # : ~ : t e x t = S u b t r a c t i v e % 2 0 bilingualism%2C%20however%2C%20is%20when,their%20first%20 language%20over%20time [Accessed 28 September 2022]. 13. Further theoretical discussions on ‘subtractive’ versus ‘additive’ bilingualism, as well as on ‘the much-disputed notion of semilingualism’ (see Bartali 2022), can be found in Lajos Göncz’s book The psychology of multilingualism: concepts, theories and applications (2021).

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14. De Houwer discusses similar findings in her chapter, Harmonious bilingualism: well-being for families in bilingual settings when she states that ‘School and home are intricately linked: When children feel that their home language is respected at (pre)school, they will show less of a tendency to reject it’ (De Houwer 2019). 15. For more information see ‘Foppa “Bilinguismo, SVP fuori dal tempo”’ (Anon.  2014) at: http://altoadige.gelocal.it/bolzano/ cronaca/2014/01/29/news/foppa-­b ilinguismo-­s vp-­f uori-­d al-­ tempo1.8565530 [Accessed 7 September 2015]. 16. Ibid. Research by Hofer and Jessner also found ‘that individuals who live in more than one language…reveal significant differences from monolinguals in brain organisation and cognitive performance, which are demonstrably to their advantage’ (2016: 84). 17. Ibid. 18. For more information see ‘No alla scuola mista ma i ragazzi devono potersi incontrare’ (Anon. 2013) at: https://www.altoadige.it/cronaca/bolzano/ no-­alla-­scuola-­mista-­ma-­i-­ragazzi-­devono-­potersi-­incontrare-­1.322227 [Accessed 4 October 2022]. 19. See ibid. for more information.

References Abel, A. 2007. Languages in education and training. In Aspects of multilingualism in European border regions: Insights and views from Alsace, eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol, ed. A. Abel, M. Stuflesser, and L. Voltmer, 236–257. Eurac Research. Abel, A., C. Vettori, and K. Wisniewski. 2012a. Gli studenti altoatesini e la seconda lingua: indagine linguistica e psicosociale. Volume 1. Bozen: Eurac Research. ———. 2012b. Gli studenti altoatesini e la seconda lingua: indagine linguistica e psicosociale. Volume 2. Bolzano: EURAC. Alber, E. 2012. South Tyrol’s education system: Plurilingual answers for monolinguistic spheres? L’Europe en formation 1 (363): 399–415. Amministrazione Provincia Bolzano. 2022. Un anno in L2. [online]. Accessed 3 February 2022. Un anno in L2 | Scuola italiana | Provincia autonoma di Bolzano—Alto Adige. Anon. 2001. Mein Kind auf Probe. ff-Südtiroler Wochenmagasin, March 29.

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———. No alla scuola mista ma i ragazzi devono potersi incontrare. Alto Adige, [online]. Accessed 4 October 2022. https://www.altoadige.it/cronaca/bolzano/no-alla-scuola-mista-ma-i-ragazzi-devono-potersi-incontrare-1.322227 ———. 2014. Foppa “Bilinguismo, SVP fuori dal tempo”. Alto Adige, [online]. Accessed 7 September 2015. http://altoadige.gelocal.it/bolzano/cronaca/2014/01/29/news/foppa-­bilinguismo-­svp-­fuori-­dal-­tempo1.8565530. Artigal, J. 1993. Il significato di un programma di immersione. In La curiosità linguistica: contribuiti all’educazione bilingue, ed. B. Gramegna and R. Fronza, 99–103. Bolzano: Frasnelli Keitsch Editrice. ASTAT. 2015. Barometro linguistico dell’Alto Adige: uso della lingua e identità linguistica in provincia di Bolzano 2014. [e-book] Bolzano: ASTAT. Available through: DocPlayer website. Accessed 22 July 2021. http://docplayer. org/130231815-­Barometro-­linguistico-­dell-­alto-­adige.html. Bartali, V. 2022. The psychology of multilingualism: Concepts, theories and applications. Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development, [e-­journal] April. https://doi.org/10.1080/01434632.2022.2060662 Baur, S., and R.  Medda-Windischer. 2008. The education system in South Tyrol. In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol, ed. J.  Woelk, F.  Palermo, and J.  Marko, 13. Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. Ch. Corni, E. 2013. Tommasini: “Bisogna guardare ai giovani”. Salto.bz, [online] August 1. Accessed 15 November 2022. https://www.salto.bz/de/article/01082013/tommasini-­bisogna-­guardare-­ai-­giovani. De Houwer, A. 2019. Harmonious bilingualism: Well-being for families in bilingual settings. In Handbook of social and affective factors in home language maintenance and development, ed. S.  Eisenchlas and A.  Schalley. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Ch.4. Deliberazione della Giunta Provinciale 17 November 2008, no. 4250. European Commission. 2010. The members of the Barroso Commission (2004–2009). [online]. Accessed 13 January 2022. https://ec.europa.eu/ archives/commission_2004-­2009/index_en.htm. Forer, D., M. P. Paladino, C. Vettori, and A. Babel. 2008. Il bilinguismo in Alto Adige: percezioni, osservazioni e opinioni su una questione quanto mai aperta. Il Cristallo, [online]. Accessed 24 March 2021. https://www.altoadigecultura.org/pdf/r01_05.html. Giudiceandrea, L., and A. Mazza. 2012. Stare insieme è un’arte: vivere in Alto Adige/Südtirol. Meran/Merano: Edizioni alphabeta Verlag.

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Göncz, L. 2021. The psychology of multilingualism: Concepts, theories and applications. Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Hell, E. 2008a. Il ruolo dei genitori. Bilinguismo a Bolzano, [blog] May 21. Accessed 13 January 2022. http://www.gebi.bz.it/bilinguismo/?p=82. ———. 2008b. Ipocrisie linguistiche. Bilinguismo a Bolzano [blog] May 15. Accessed 6 October 2022. http://www.gebi.bz.it/bilinguismo/?m=200805. Hofer, B., and U. Jessner. 2016. Multilingualism at the primary level in South Tyrol: How does multilingual education affect young learners’ metalinguistic awareness and proficiency in L1, L2 and L3? The Language Learning Journal, [e-journal] 47(1): 76–87. https://doi.org/10.1080/09571736.2016.1195865. Lanthaler, F. 2007. The German language in South Tyrol- some sociolinguistic aspects. In Aspects of multilingualism in European border regions: Insights and views from Alsace, eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol, ed. A.  Abel, M.  Stuflesser, and L.  Voltmer, 220–234. Eurac Research. Lightbrown, P., and N. Spada. 1999. How languages are learned. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Marko, J. 2008. Is there a South Tyrolean ‘model’ of conflict resolution to be exported? In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol, ed. J.  Woelk, F.  Palermo, and J.  Marko. Boston: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. Ch.19. Mattioli, A. 2017. Maestre a disagio: «Italiano vietato negli asili tedeschi». Alto Adige, [online] September 17. Accessed 15 November 2022. https://www. altoadige.it/cronaca/bolzano/maestre-­a -­d isagio-­i taliano-­v ietato-­n egli­asili-­tedeschi-­1.1328948. Merli, F. 2017. Vietato parlare italiano negli asili tedeschi. ItaliaOggi, [online] September 22. Accessed 15 November 2022. https://www.italiaoggi.it/news/ vietato-­parlare-­italiano-­negli-­asili-­tedeschi-­2211124. Nacamulli, M. 2015. The benefits of a bilingual brain. TED-Ed. [video online]. Accessed 24 March 2021. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MMm OLN5zBLY. Neve, G. 2018. Asili solo per bambini tedeschi. Polemica in Alto Adige: “É pulizia etnica”. Il Giornale.it, [online] May 2. Accessed 17 November 2022. https://www.ilgiornale.it/news/politica/asili-­s olo-­b ambini-­t edeschi-­ polemica-­alto-­adige-­pulizia-­1521242.html. Palermo, F. 2017. Modifica allo statuto speciale per il Trentino-Alto Adige/Südtirol in materia di scuola (Senate Act n. 2701). Italian Parliament.

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Pallaver, G. 2014. South Tyrol’s changing political system: From dissociative on the road to associative conflict resolution. The Journal of Nationalism and Ethnicity 42 (3): 376–398. Peterlini, H. 2013. Noi figli dell’autonomia: Alto Adige/Südtirol oltre il disorientamento etnico. Meran/Merano: Edizioni alphabeta Verlag. Provincia Autonoma di Bolzano-Alto Adige. 2017. Un anno in L2: un anno particolare a un passo da casa. [pdf ] Autonomous Province of Bolzano-Alto Adige. Accessed 9 November 2022. https://www.provinz.bz.it/bildung-­ sprache/didaktik-­beratung/downloads/Brochure_ita_2017.pdf. Richard-Amato, P. 2003. Making it happen: From interactive to participatory language teaching. Theory and practice. 3rd ed. White Plains: Pearson Education. Valente, P. 2013. A scuola nell’altra lingua. Salto.bz, [online]. Accessed 21 August 2015. http://salto.bz/de/article/30082013/scuola-­nellaltra-­lingua. Visser, M.M. 2017. German: The German language in education in South Tyrol (Italy). 2nd ed. Fryslân: Mercator European Research Centre on Multilingualism and Language Learning. Wand, A. 2016. ‘Separate but equal’, segregated or stymied? Second language learning issues in South Tyrol. Journal of the Anthropological Society of Oxford 3 (3): 330–347. Waterford.org. 2020. How to promote additive bilingualism over substractive bilingualism in the classroom. [online]. Accessed 28 September 2022. https://www.waterford.org/education/additive-­vs-­ subtractivebilingualism/#:~:text=Subtractive%20bilingualism%2C%20 however%2C%20is%20when,their%20first%20language%20over%20 time. Wisthaler, V. 2015. South Tyrol: The importance of boundaries for immigrant integration. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 42 (8): 1271–1289.

8 Final Thoughts

‘So, what’s the point?’, one may ask, of exploring a school system that struggles in its resistance to change? Especially if politicians from the German-speaking group want to maintain a monolingual education? In an era where ‘“security” to the South Tyrolean [German-speaking] minority’ has been secured, and ‘peacefully resolved’ (see Pallaver 2017: 248 for more information), this begs the question why segregation still exists in education between the German- and Italian-speaking school systems. While some proponents might suggest that the ‘success’ of South Tyrol as a ‘peace model’ is reflected in the school system (see Marko 2008; Woelk et al. 2008), this does not discount concerns that the education system reinforces local divisions in society (see Chaps. 5 and 6). Nevertheless, I have learned that the use of terminology and one’s perception of a region is key in order to perpetuate an image, or illusion, that the school systems are more or less one and the same. As an anthropologist who comes from outside South Tyrol, while I am wary of my own positionality (see Chap. 1), my discipline requires to question the status quo, even if that means examining school policy. The term ‘separate but equal’, which casually refers to South Tyrol’s segregated schooling model, conjures an image of a school system that provides equal opportunities for all three official language groups. While the South Tyrolean school system was ultimately designed to preserve the German-speaking mother tongue and culture (see Chap. 5), German-speaking education is viewed © The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2023 A. Wand, Segregation in Language Education, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-32747-6_8

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as the gold standard to assimilate and find employment in the province. As a result, Italian-speakers (as well as ‘“foreigners”’) have tried to work their way into the schooling system (see Chaps. 5 and 7), creating a response from German-speaking politicians asking for more German-­ only education (see Neve 2018). While their response is understandable, especially given that the school system is used to reinforce identity (see Chap. 5), the growing number of migrants and multilingual-speakers (See Larin and Röggla 2016; Wisthaler 2015; ASTAT 2014; Minority Rights Group International 2022) suggest that the school system should reconsider its priorities. As work in civil service requires an understanding of two of the official second languages, preventing the establishment of bilingual schools gives the impression of avoiding the inevitable, as well as potentially leading to further irritation from parents wanting bilingual options for their children. Then there are the legal implications that come with the ‘separate but equal’ schooling system, which was initially established after 1946 and updated with the Second Autonomy Statute (see Chap. 5). While the Statute was the result of decades of attempts to give the German-speakers more autonomy, its support by the United Nations meant that the conflict ‘between [Austria and Italy] had been resolved…’ (see Steininger 2003: 134; see Chap. 3). A success within itself, the Statute should be commended for having the backing of two governments (Austria and Italy), but over time it must be asked if South Tyrol can still afford to maintain its segregated schooling model. Although the term ‘separate but equal’ tends to insinuate a passive cohabitation between groups, it functions as a means to diminish the weight of South Tyrol’s ‘institutional segregation’.1 By calling the schools ‘segregated’ this could raise several flags, especially within the European Union, even though ‘to segregate’ literally means ‘to separate’,2 without the negative association. The irony, of course, is that while Bosnia and Herzegovina has been heavily criticised for its separate schooling system (see BBC 2019), South Tyrol’s education model has gone under the radar despite its segregated schooling policies.3 There are also fierce supporters of the education system, and of South Tyrol as a whole, that could contribute to preventing any future

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discussions on multilingual education in the province. This is further magnified when the researcher in question investigates segregation between schools only to be reminded that their ‘outsider’ status may make it harder to convince a biased audience. While anthropologists are trained to deal with opposition, these exchanges are not always ideal, even if at times the evidence is laid down at the feet of those who have some influence on legislation. In summer 2022, I sat before a panel of several European policy professionals, one of whom was familiar with South Tyrol and had a vested interest in my research. During our one-hour discussion, I was pressed for information about my use of the term ‘segregation’, as it was felt that as a non-native speaker of Italian I must have ‘misunderstood’ the language. Instead, I was informed that ‘segregation’ in Italian was different to ‘segregation’ in English,4 and that by using that term to describe South Tyrol I was ‘running the risk of being dangerously biased’. Furthermore, this individual had ‘skied in South Tyrol, and had never once noticed a problem’. They also knew the late South Tyrolean political activist, Alexander Langer (see Chap. 6 for more information) who ‘would have never used the word “segregation”.’ In response I explained that while this term might be surprising in reference to describing South Tyrol, it was not a descriptor that I opted to invent, but that was used by German- and Italian-speaking researchers (see Pallaver 2014; Fait 2011; De Paoli 2017; Peterlini 2013). In fact, I learned the term from Langer himself based on an article which focused on his autobiography (see Fait 2011), where I described in full detail the section of the paper which referred to his use of ‘segregation’. Although it is exhausting to justify one’s work, especially when it comes to use of language, confronting subjectivity and bias from informants is part of the research journey. Moreover, when analysing those opinions as they compare to interviews and research data, a patchwork quilt starts to emerge of all the many facets which prevent multilingual education. While Alber states in Chap. 3 that ‘to update the [Second Autonomy] statue’ it would be ‘very difficult’ (see Alber 2021: 178), there are a multitude of aspects mentioned throughout this book that make second language learning far more challenging. Even with a draft proposal presented by Palermo to modify the education schooling system

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(see 2017 for more information), talking directly to the Senate is no guarantee that legislation will ever be amended. If one factors in the history and political incentives to keep the language groups divided (see Chaps. 2 and 3), a lack of unified voices to confront the status quo only perpetuates the segregated school system. This alongside the belief that ‘South Tyrolean identity’ cannot be shared with the Italian-speaking group (see Chap. 4) leads to a segregated structure within education which reinforces ethnolinguistic divisions (Chap. 5). As there are several other factors outside education which can impede second language acquisition (Chap. 6), mixed responses from informants to language issues in society means that some people will oppose bilingual learning (Chap. 7). Therefore, in order to move past the education system into a structure that is more inclusive, I return to Chap. 7 with Weronika and Evi who suggest that the school system have four options (Italian-, German-, Ladin-, and Bilingual-speaking schools). Since there are members of the public who rightfully deserve to maintain their own culture and language, this ‘right’ should not be denied to those bilingual-speakers who want to hold on to their identities. While Giudiceandrea and Mazza (2012), and some of my informants, warned of the complications with bilingual schools (see Chaps. 5 and 7), in order to avoid the influx of ‘other’ groups from infiltrating the German-speaking school system, a bilingual schooling option might relieve the stress from parents trying to manoeuvre the school system. Although ‘Un anno in L2’ (see Chap. 7) is an alternative for those more comfortable with monolingual schooling, it should not be reserved solely for older students when younger students may want immersion options. Since there has been a rise of immigration to the province, which has grown ‘over the past 20 years’ (see Larin and Röggla 2016; Wisthaler 2015),5 a bilingual schooling option may be the only choice if the school system chooses to stay the same. As migrants with different ‘languages, cultures, and religions’ (see Wisthaler 2015) continue to occupy the region, a segregated schooling system designed to protect ‘the minority’ sends a mixed message to the European Union. By protecting the German-speaking group through a school system that is opposed to non-­ European migrants (see Chap. 7), German-speaking education could be misconstrued as having a racist agenda. With the education system

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tending to concentrate ‘on the polarity’ (see Abel 2007: 243) between the language groups, South Tyrol will need to expand its approach to integration for it to work in the twenty-first century.

Notes 1. The use of this term can be found in Joseph Marko’s 2008 chapter, Is there a ‘model’ of conflict resolution to be exported? 2. For the full definition see, Segregate: https://www.dictionary.com/browse/ segregate (2022) [Accessed 18 November 2022]. 3. There are obviously many reasons for this, especially given the large amount of attention the former Yugoslavia has had since the 1990s. However, my research has found that the percentage of Europeans who know about the history of South Tyrol (let alone its location) is surprisingly small considering the international attention South Tyrol has received over the years from the Dalai Lama and the Palestinian government (see Chap. 1; Pallaver 2014). 4. It is worth mentioning that linguistically this is not the case. The individual in question heavily underestimated my understanding of Italian, and was more concerned with my use of the term ‘segregation’ when describing South Tyrol, therefore assuming that I must have ‘misunderstood’ the Italian literature I read by using ‘segregation’ instead of ‘separation’ to describe South Tyrol’s education system. 5. For more information on immigration to South Tyrol see ASTAT’s 2020 report, Movimenti migratori in Alto Adige: Sviluppi e tendenze tra il 1993 e il 2017, and Eurac Research’s 2020 report, Rapporto migrazioni: Alto Adige 2020 (Medda-Windischer and Membretti 2020)  available at: https:// webassets.eurac.edu/31538/1605115915-­r apporto-­m igrazioni-­a lto-­ adige-­2020.pdf [Accessed 24 November 2022].

References Abel, A. 2007. Languages in education and training. In Aspects of multilingualism in European border regions: Insights and views from Alsace, eastern Macedonia and Thrace, the Lublin Voivodeship and South Tyrol, ed. A. Abel, M. Stuflesser, and L. Voltmer, 236–257. Eurac Research.

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Alber, E. 2021. South Tyrol’s model of conflict resolution: Territorial autonomy and power-Sharing. In Power-sharing in Europe: Past practice, present cases, and future directions, ed. S.  Keil and A.  McCulloch. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Ch.8. ASTAT. 2014. Ausländische Wohnbevölkerung 2013. Bozen: ASTAT. ———. 2020. Movimenti migratori in Alto Adige: Sviluppi e tendenze tra il 1993 e il 2017. [pdf ] Bolzano: ASTAT.  Accessed 24 November 2022. https://astat.provinz.bz.it/it/news-­pubblicazioni-­info. asp?news_action=4&news_article_id=638520. BBC. 2019. The pupils speaking out against segregation in schools. [video online]. Accessed 24 March 2021. https://www.bbc.com/news/av/world-­europe-­ 48840211. De Paoli, C. 2017. Redefining categories: Construction, reproduction and transformation of ethnic identity in South Tyrol. In A land on a threshold: South Tyrolean transformations, 1915–2015, ed. G. Grote and H. Obermair. Bern: Peter Lang. Ch. 21. Dictionary.com. 2022. Segregate. [online]. Accessed 24 November 2022. https:// www.dictionary.com/browse/segregate. Fait, S. 2011. A Gemütlich segregation: Multiculturalism and the iceman’s curse in Italy. In Managing ethnic diversity: Meanings and practices from an international perspective, ed. R. Hasmath. Farnham and Burlington: Ashgate. Ch. 13. Giudiceandrea, L., and A. Mazza. 2012. Stare insieme è un’arte: vivere in Alto Adige/Südtirol. Meran/Merano: Edizioni alphabeta Verlag. Larin, S., and M. Röggla. 2016. Time to invite the ‘Others’ to the table: A proposal to make South Tyrol more inclusive. Democratic Audit, [blog] November 2. Accessed 8 July 2020. https://www.democraticaudit.com/2016/11/02/ time-­t o-­i nvite-­t he-­o thers-­t o-­t he-­t able-­a -­p roposal-­t o-­m ake-­s outh-­t yrol-­ more-­inclusive/. Marko, J. 2008. Is there a South Tyrolean ‘model’ of conflict resolution to be exported? In Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in South Tyrol, ed. J. Woelk, F. Palermo, and J. Marko. Leiden and Boston: Matinus Nighoff Publishers. Ch.19. Medda-Windischer, R., and A. Membretti. 2020. Rapporto sulle migrazioni: Alto Adige 2020. [pdf ] Bolzano: Eurac Research. Accessed 24 November 2022. https:/webassets.eurac.edu/31538/1605115915-­rapporto-­migrazioni-­alto-­ adige-­2020.pdf.

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Minority Rights Group International. 2022. South Tyrolese German-speakers [online]. Accessed 1 June 2022. https://minorityrights.org/minorities/ south-­tyrolese-­german-­speakers/. Neve, G. 2018. Asili solo per bambini tedeschi. Polemica in Alto Adige: “É pulizia etnica”. Il Giornale.it, [online] May 2. Accessed 17 November 2022. https://www.ilgiornale.it/news/politica/asili-­s olo-­b ambini-­t edeschi-­ polemica-­alto-­adige-­pulizia-­1521242.html. Palermo, F. 2017. S. 2701 Disegno di legge costituzionale d’iniziativa del senatore Palermo: modifica allo statuto speciale per il Trentino-Alto Adige/Südtirol in materia di Scuola. [pdf ] Parlamento Italiano. Accessed 27 October 2022. http://www.gebi.bz.it/files/DDL%20%20Costituzionale%20modifica%20 art%2019%20statuto.pdf. Pallaver, G. 2014. South Tyrol’s changing political system: From dissociative on the road to associate conflict resolution. The Journal of Nationalism and Ethnicity 42 (3): 376–398. ———. 2017. South Tyrol: Terrorism and its reconciliation. Negotiations, consociational democracy, and power-sharing. In Dialogue against violence: The question of Trentino-South Tyrol in the international context, ed. G. Bernardini and G. Pallaver. Il Mulino and Duncker & Humblot: Bologna and Berlin. Peterlini, H. 2013. Noi figli dell’autonomia: Alto Adige/Südtirol oltre il disorientamento etnico. Meran/Merano: Edizioni alphabeta Verlag. Steininger, R. 2003. South Tyrol: A minority conflict in the twentieth century. New Jersey: Transaction Publishers. Wisthaler, V. 2015. South Tyrol: The importance of boundaries for immigrant integration. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies 42 (8): 1271–1289. Woelk, J., F. Palermo, and J. Marko, eds. 2008. Tolerance through law: Self governance and group rights in south Tyrol. Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers.

Index1

A

Alto Adige, 21, 34, 36 Amonn, Erich, 70 Article 19, 30, 77, 127, 128, 241, 252 Assimilation, 101, 108, 126, 127, 133, 153, 157, 161, 184, 186, 236, 250, 254 Austria, 55–57, 63, 65, 66, 70, 71, 74–76, 78, 97, 106, 110, 138, 187, 199, 222, 235, 249, 253, 268 B

Befreiungsausschuss Südtirol (BAS), 73, 74

Bilingualism, 44, 77, 94, 95, 103, 114, 137, 139–143, 145, 189, 193, 200, 203, 210, 212, 213, 218, 256–259, 261n13 bilingual education, 95, 137, 141, 150, 165, 195, 208, 209, 222, 231–260 Border(s), 44, 55–57, 63, 65, 73, 88, 89, 97, 115n3, 136, 143, 157, 162, 168, 172n38, 181 Bozen-Bolzano, 15, 16, 31, 35–37, 40, 49n19, 66, 70, 92, 98, 99, 103, 104, 123, 124, 133, 136, 140, 149, 152, 158, 160, 161, 163, 170n11, 179, 181, 182, 190, 191, 198, 201, 203,

 Note: Page numbers followed by ‘n’ refer to notes.

1

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276 Index

205–207, 212, 217, 231, 235, 236, 242, 246, 259 Brenner Pass, 57 Brixen-Bressanone, 16, 162

Eurac Research, 15, 16, 18, 30, 47n2, 94, 140, 191, 194, 198, 212, 238 European Union (EU), 34, 96, 147, 172n38, 214, 268, 270

C

Catacomb schools, 62–64, 125 Civil service, 38, 40–41, 49n20, 167, 210, 213, 239, 268 Cole, John, 110, 115n8, 222 Commission of 19, 72–78 Conqueror (mentality), 185–190 Consociational democracy, 30, 32 Content and Language Integrated Learning (CLIL), 90, 125, 146, 147, 154, 155, 166, 232, 251, 254, 256, 257, 259 Critical Period Hypothesis (CPH), 130 Crucchi, 133

F

Fascism, 66, 102, 126, 187, 254 party, 61 Fascist occupation, 55–79, 125, 255 First Autonomy Statute (1948), 72–74, 76 Fourteen Points, 56 Free Choice principle, 30, 241, 242 Free University of Bozen-Bolzano, 15, 18, 100, 152, 154, 162, 164, 182, 207, 215, 236 G

D

Dableiber, 68 Declaration of linguistic affiliation, 38, 39, 41–44, 48n14 Democracy, 31, 33 Dialect German, 16, 63, 132, 134, 152, 153, 210–215, 220, 221 Italian, 215, 216 Disagio, 96, 100, 101, 103, 139 Dividing walls, 124, 156–168 E

Ethnicity, 34, 43, 57, 69, 91, 107–109, 157, 190

Gamper, Michael, 62, 63 German-speaking community, 15, 20, 32, 33, 36, 37, 42, 57, 64, 67, 68, 72, 74, 99, 102, 105, 142, 151, 187, 188, 190, 191, 197, 200, 211, 252 education, 21, 33, 36, 61, 63, 112, 124–126, 132, 133, 137, 138, 147, 150–156, 166, 167, 208, 216, 232–234, 242, 246–248, 251, 254, 259, 267, 270 party, 61, 70, 162 population, 35, 56, 58, 59, 65, 66, 68, 70, 74, 110, 112, 182 province, 71, 100

 Index 

school system, 78, 115n6, 126, 129, 132, 134, 141, 147, 150–156, 165, 170n13, 184, 186, 253, 270 Green Party, 17, 215, 258 Gruber-De Gasperi Agreement (1946), 38, 39, 48n15, 66–72, 74–76 H

Heimat, 67, 81n10, 87–114 High German, 16, 88, 132, 133, 145, 150, 155, 166, 194, 207, 212, 215–222, 234, 235, 256, 258–260 Hitler, Adolf, 67 I

Identity collective, 64, 186, 187, 190 ethnic, 90, 91, 107, 109, 110, 153 language, 43, 80n8 national, 15, 21, 22, 46, 60, 68, 91, 107–114, 115n4, 115n9 South Tyrolean, 34, 36, 79, 188, 270 Immersion education, 148, 149, 151, 154, 155, 166, 172n39, 209, 232, 243, 254, 257 language, 45, 155, 209, 249 programme, 131, 209 teaching, 44, 131, 138, 146, 148, 149, 151, 154, 232, 251–256 Immigration, 22, 35, 44, 100, 270

277

Italianisation, 59, 61, 80n4 Italian-speaking community, 15, 20, 32, 33, 36, 37, 57, 103, 190, 200, 202, 204, 211, 216 education, 21, 124, 138, 144–150, 167, 189, 193, 195, 209, 216, 247 population, 56, 66 school system, 78, 182, 184, 193, 253 L

Ladin-speaking community, ii, 35, 39, 47n5, 48n10, 75, 76, 108, 124, 211 education, 47n5, 167, 250 population, 48n11 school system, 21, 128, 168n1, 169n3, 260n1, 261n11 valleys, 16, 19, 135, 167 Language learning ‘block,’ 181–186, 190 Lex Gentile, 61, 62 M

Magnago, Silvius, 73 Meran-Merano, 16, 35, 37, 154, 155, 158, 159, 204, 206, 207, 231, 235, 242, 259 Migration, 60, 115n1, 208 Monolingualism monolingual education, ii, 21, 31, 33, 45, 60, 91, 127, 141, 167, 210, 232, 233, 258, 259, 267

278 Index

Motivation instrumental, 94 integrative, 94 Multilingualism, 21, 33, 45, 79, 111, 114, 151, 153, 184, 204 multilingual education, ii, 21, 47n5, 125, 127, 133, 143, 164, 167, 170n13, 245, 260, 260n1, 269 Mussolini, Benito, 59, 61, 65–67, 69, 112, 215, 216 N

National census, 38, 39, 41, 44, 45, 48n14, 49n21 Nationalism, 58, 60, 97, 98, 109–111, 113, 124 National Socialism (Nazis), 70 Nazi occupation, 125 O

The Option (plan), 66–72 P

The Package, 76 Paris Agreement, 38, 70, 126 Paris Peace Conference, 55, 59 Patentino, 193, 194, 196, 198, 210–214, 223n3, 239 Peace model, ii, 29, 79, 267 Positionality, 8–11, 14, 267 Proportionality, 39–42, 45

Q

Quota system, 38–46, 48n13, 49n20 R

Racist, 242, 270 Reflexivity, 5, 6, 8, 10, 14 Re-Germanisation, 141–144 Reich, 67, 68 S

Schützen, 97, 104, 115n4, 162 Second Autonomy Statute (1972), 30, 39, 40, 47n4, 76, 78, 79, 100, 127, 128, 141, 153, 172n39, 187, 211, 241, 252, 268 Segregation segregated education, ii, 17–22, 29, 34, 46, 55, 79, 186 segregated schools, i, 22, 79, 124, 144, 156, 167, 249, 267, 268, 270 Self-determination, 56, 70, 71, 73 Separate but equal, i, 33, 124, 127, 166, 169n1, 181, 248–250, 257, 258, 267, 268 Separate entrances, 156–168 Silvius Magnago, 73 South Tyrolean problem, 67, 70, 75 Standard German, 150, 153, 220, 259

 Index 

Südtiroler Volkspartei (SVP), 17, 66–76, 78, 81n13, 108, 137, 148, 242, 258, 259 Symbolic power, 110–114

U

T

V

Teacher quality, 165, 193–195 Team teaching, 252 Tolomei, Ettore, 57–60, 75 Treaty of St Germain, 55, 57, 80n1 Trentino-Alto Adige, 47n4, 71, 72, 74, 76

279

Un anno in L2, 165, 244–246, 250, 253, 255, 259, 261n9, 261n10, 270 United Nations (UN), 22, 74–76, 268

Victim (mentality), 56, 168 Victory Monument, 64–65 W

Walsche(r), 132–136 Wilson, Woodrow, 37, 56