How can curriculum history benefit from sociolinguistics? The importance of language controversy in the making of citizens in nineteenth- and twentieth-century Europe

Based on small case-study illustrations from a variety of European countries, this study aims to explore methodological aspects of the study of curriculum history by expanding its traditional research scope. In so doing, it is argued that sociolinguistic issues are essential to this discussion. The main argument is that sociolinguistics and curriculum history are more closely intertwined than has been proposed by previous academic literature. Under the examination are often two sides of the same coin which are viewed from different, albeit closely related, research angles. In effect, the curriculum’s contextualisation is also structured and modified by sociolinguistic considerations. In the conclusion, it is maintained that citizenship education—understood here as the historical manifestation of the dominant cultural expectations towards the citizens as the bearers of a particular nation state during a specific timeframe—should be better informed by sociolinguistic literature, and by that, also placed against those language controversies that surround the curriculum. On this basis, by adding value to the study of the curriculum as part of educational history—and by blurring unnecessary academic boundaries—this paper provides interdisciplinary insights into the study of curriculum history vis-à-vis sociolinguistics, which have so far remained too separated. *Corresponding author: Matias Gardin, InES, Université du Luxembourg, Esch-sur-Alzette, Luxembourg E-mail: matias.gardin@uni.lu


ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This paper is based on the wider research project titled "Educating the future citizens: Curriculum and the formation of multilingual societies in Luxembourg and Switzerland" (EFC-LS), which was conducted at the University of Luxembourg from 2013 to 2016. The aim of the project was to move away from today's understanding of citizenship education from its rather narrow to a broader scope, and to approach curriculum history from a variety of angles. For instance, in chronological terms, it highlights key moments in Luxembourg's/ Switzerland's history in the nineteenth and twentieth century. In thematic terms, it looks at the formation and evolution of various collective actors-such as religious and political forces, classes, sexes, professions-and considers how these groups have shaped and been shaped by educational change. The research for this paper was funded by Luxembourg's National Research Fund (FNR).

PUBLIC INTEREST STATEMENT
This paper argues for the greater dialogue between two academic research fields, sociolinguistics and curriculum history. More specifically, it is maintained that curriculum history would benefit from the sociolinguistic literature that studies more systematically the role of language and the relevance of different speech communitiesincluding dialects (or national language varieties) and intergroup relations-for the construction of national citizenship. Sociolinguistic arguments need to be more efficiently situated within the boundaries of history of education, and not just acknowledged or assumed in theory. As case studies, I stress the importance of language controversy in the making of citizens in a number of European countries in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

Introduction
Sociolinguistics as an academic discipline is by nature interdisciplinary. Simply put, by combining linguistics with sociology, anthropology, psychology, and today also education studies, cultural geography and media studies (or the like), sociolinguistics studies the relationship between language and society, and their interdependencies (see, e.g. Wardhaugh, 2006). Similar vast crossdisciplinarity characterises curriculum studies, often located at the intersection of education studies, social sciences, history and sociology (among others) (see, e.g. Pinar, 2003;Introduction). In addition, both approaches consider citizenship as integral to the study of national identity, firmly related to language and politics, social structures and practices, institutions, history and schooling (Tröhler, Popkewitz, & Labaree, 2011, Introduction;Horner, 2015).
To combine sociolinguistics and curriculum studies, particularly from the side of sociolinguists, is of course not a new endeavour. For instance, Gellner (1983, p. 55) reminds us that it was largely via mass education during the nineteenth century that the "new" nation state became intelligible for its future citizens, i.e. "a situation arises in which well-defined educationally sanctioned and unified cultures constitute very nearly the only kind of unit with which men willingly and often ardently identify". Similarly, May (2001) considers the same link with regard to majority vs. minority language juxtapositions with a strong emphasis on education. However, as far as curriculum history is concerned, 1 I maintain, the interconnectedness usually becomes less obvious. While the issue seems to be recognised at a more theoretical level, it seems seldom realised in practice. Then, it seems to me that curriculum history would benefit from the sociolinguistic literature that studies more systematically the role of language and the relevance of different speech communities-including dialects (or national language varieties) and intergroup relations-for the construction of citizenship. In short, sociolinguistic arguments need to be more efficiently situated within the boundaries of history of education, and not just acknowledged or assumed.
To simplify, curriculum studies has often concentrated on examining the impact of educational practices on citizenship, 2 and put "less emphasis" on language considerations. Conversely, sociolinguistics has so far been "less interested" in how this same citizenship has been historically produced in the education system. While these research divides are of course justified by their different methodological foci on these matters altogether-and are thus compartmentalised by different university faculties-I propose here that by combining them more consistently, and from there, by opening up a necessary and better dialogue, this would also supplement, expand, profit and illuminate future research in these study fields.
Here, it is crucial to note that many questions posed by curriculum theorists are also very typical for sociolinguists. In this case, the answer from the side of sociolinguistics would be of course to underline the role of language usage in many countries (e.g. for Switzerland, see Haas, 1998;for Luxembourg, see Horner, 2015), and highlight the accommodation of different linguistic divides, the social identity of language users, together with societal factors (see, e.g. Koller, 1999;Weber & Horner, 2012), including education (e.g. Stevenson, 1990); while those interested in the curriculum would stress the (historical) role of education in trying to achieve this unity (Gardin, 2016;Gardin, Barbu, & Rothmüller, 2015). In short, albeit with different emphases, both approaches deal with similar issues that firmly interlink language, citizenship and education. It is this threefold interplay-combined with a strong focus on national identity arising from it together with the nation state as a research unit-that these schools have in common, and integrating the two should therefore be given greater attention in academic literature. May (2001, p. 7) has rightly pointed out that "sociolinguists and social and political theorists have seldom engaged directly with each other's arguments in the complex and contested domains of language and nationalism, or in the related areas of ethnicity and identity politics".
At a more general level, I propose to answer two research questions: How differently is the construction of citizenship understood within the boundaries of sociolinguistics and curriculum history? And, what are those interactions and transition points that are worth investigating, and where are they located? In the conclusion, it is argued that when we draw connections between these two research areas, establishing a mutual crossing could aid in the historic analysis of schooling practice, and by that, adjust the focus and framework of curriculum history away from its more traditional agendas towards a set of different questions altogether. Whichever of the two facets is sympathised more, it is safe to say that curriculum reforms of the past have been caught up, and become entangled, in other lines and networks of sociolinguistic discourses. Thus, this study addresses the role of language in the making of citizens derived primarily from sociolinguistic literature.
Following from this, I draw on small case-study illustrations from a variety of European countries in western, central and northern Europe: Finland and Sweden as the prime examples of the Nordic countries; Germany and France as the dominant cases for West-Central Europe; and Luxembourg and Switzerland as the relevant illustrations for multicultural nation states situated somewhere between the latter two. The case studies were selected based on the different historical interplay on the nexus between language and citizenship, and how this became translated into the curriculum. In other words, in the "big" European countries dominated by a single language, namely Germany and France, the ideal citizen was of course very different, but as yet and above all, it was to be monolingual. The same held true for Sweden with its nationalistic curriculum programmes aiming to create linguistic uniformity, but not for Finland which opted for bilingual citizenship. In the multilingual countries of Luxembourg and Switzerland, while different for specific national reasons, the idealised citizen was to be the antithesis of cultural homogenisation; multilingual, and therefore also multicultural. 3 However, for my purpose here, it is relevant to ask how these different historical interpretations of language and citizenship, and their treatment in the education system, could be placed in wider conversation with sociolinguistic arguments.
Hence, by laying stress on the language tensions and controversies that also surround the curriculum, this paper is structured as follows: The first part ("Between the curriculum, citizenship education, and sociolinguistics") deals with the conjunction of curriculum history and sociolinguistics. The second part ("Controversy: citizenship and language in the nineteenth and twentieth century") links the first part to the relevant case-study illustrations as mentioned above, and juxtaposes some basic sociolinguistic literature with that of curriculum history. By addressing this study's implications for the larger (and older) tradition of educational history vs. more narrow (and recent) study of curriculum history, the conclusion draws the two parts together, and proposes to reconsider the curriculum's contextualisation to be also re-evaluated, scrutinised and measured against sociolinguistic considerations.

Between the curriculum, citizenship education and sociolinguistics
By citizenship education, it is here meant the ideas, values and habits that pupils must adopt in the course of their schooling so that they can function "as smoothly as possible" in their future, nationally specific, societies. Citizenship education is therefore understood as a kind of "taken-for-granted" assumptions and criteria about the nation and its moral ideals-the manifestation of the dominant cultural expectations towards the citizens as the bearers of a particular state during specific time periods-which nevertheless need to be systematically learned for one to become a "full member" of the national community. It goes without saying that the compulsory public education system has played, and continues to play, a key role in trying to achieve this idealised version of society, of course never realisable in practice. Language learning (reading and writing), in turn, has always occupied a central position in the school syllabi, and for this reason forms a justifiable research arena in the historical study of citizenship education.
Whether the recent curriculum literature has dealt with the issue of how social problems are translated into education (Tröhler & Barbu, 2011, Introduction); the inner contradictions of reform agendas (Labaree, 1999); the utopian nature of school reform (Tyack & Cuban, 1995), or the neglected role of history in education (see Ravitch & Vinovskis, 1995, Introduction); common to all these debates is their vast interdisciplinarity and theoretical framework, and conceptual diversity (Pinar, 2003). From a variety of angles, Goodson's influential The Making of the Curriculum: Collected Essays, published in 1988 as part of the Studies in Curriculum History series, summarised the British Zeitgeist regarding this. However, in many ways, the volume could also be applied to the wider international research community. At a general level, mainly because of the rising educational inequalities in Thatcher's UK and Reagan's US, it led Goodson (1988, p. xix) to a conclusion that "independent curriculum scholarship has never been more necessary". Nevertheless, to aid our understanding of past realities, he also invites curriculum historians to examine the "constraints beyond", i.e. the wider social milieux that condition the curriculum, rather than analyse written historic sources for their own sake exclusively, which has traditionally been the central source of investigation in the wider history of education. "What above all is needed, therefore, is a method that stays with the participants, stays with the complexity of the social process", Goodson (1988) contends, "but catches some understanding of the constraints beyond".
On this basis, as Goodson's "constraint beyond", I suggest that while these studies are indeed useful in the general understanding of the curriculum, they can tell us little about the connection between curriculum history and the societal functions of language that also define citizenship. The problem is that they often rely too heavily on the input or output side of education policy, especially regarding written languages that are learned at school, and ignore the "external" framework through which the curriculum also becomes intelligible. Therefore, in order to broaden and deepen our understanding of the curriculum, there is a serious need for complementary research that looks at sociolinguistic issues, i.e. critical takes on language policies of education (see e.g. Tollefson, 2002;Wodak, Johnstone, & Kerswill, 2011). Combining sociolinguistics and curriculum studies this way, I argue, would also add value to the study of history of education as a whole. This is not to say that curriculum historians should somehow become sociolinguists but simply that sociolinguistic issues should be better acknowledged within this discussion. For instance, there is little to suggest that also spoken registers, dialects or nationally specific language varieties did not influence curricular developments (e.g. Papapavlou & Pavlou, 2007;Wolfram, Temple Adger, & Christian, 1999), although they often seem to be excluded from investigation from the side of curriculum history.
In many ways, too, to study the curriculum from a historical perspective is to study educational reforms of the past that conditioned (and were being conditioned by) different nation-building developments related to citizenship. Although education policy was constantly in the process of reform, at times a larger "rupture" came to surface which might now be termed as a "watershed" in the educational history of a particular country. One of these turning points has of course been the drafting of constitutions for the "new" nation states of nineteenth-century Europe, and their huge impact on new school laws. Curriculum reforms were often "positively" linked to these "ruptures" in history, and, with certain exceptions, once a national constitution had been established, a new school law normally followed within five years (Tröhler, 2016).
How, then, was all this related to language and citizenship? As I show below, language was often seen as the factor which would unify fragmented populations, and was used to overcome deepseated socio-economic cleavages for greater social integration. Yet, different European nation states also used language or languages for their own specific purpose, which included dialects or "problematic national varieties" (e.g. Ammon, 1995), which were not necessarily used as a written form. The role of minority languages, such French in Switzerland or Swedish in Finland, formed equally part of this process, and often these languages were not just accommodated at a regional level-to meet the needs of the specific ethnolinguistic communities-but as a kind of compensation for fewer speakers, they were also highlighted as fully equal to the majority language at a national level. Further, in theory, spoken registers were frequently reserved to the private sphere, as opposed to standard and written forms used in the public domain (as in schools), which led to tension and controversy in education practice.

France and Germany
Broadly speaking, in Germany and France, nation-building in the nineteenth century developed around the lines of linguistic homogeneity, which fortified towards the end of the century, the aim being a sharp reduction in linguistic and ethnic diversity (e.g. Hobsbawm, 1990, pp. 101-130). Germany-previously including a patchwork of various independent states with very different linguistic repertoires, romanticised by Herder and Humboldt (among many other key figures in the development of Bildungsbürgertum), and unified under Prussian domination in 1871-now found itself in the middle of linguistic standardisation, and by that, promoted an increasingly monolithic and authoritative language identity with the emerging written prototype, i.e. standard German (Hoc hdeutsch/Schriftdeutsch), forming the norm for a modern political unit (see Durrell, 2002). This was in line with the German idea of citizenship (Staatsbürgerschaft) based on jus sanguinis, championed for example by Fichte in his famous Reden an die deutsche Nation in 1806.
France, meanwhile, centralised firmly around Paris-as opposed to Germany's Länder structures-which nonetheless included an important reference to the similar "one-nation-one-language" ideology (Blommaert, 1999, pp. 1-8), constituting part of the wider "nation-state congruence" (May, 2001, p. 6), which became later anchored in the various school laws that followed the country's ever-changing constitutional modifications in the course of the turbulent nineteenth and twentieth centuries (Tröhler, 2016). The use of dialects (patois) was negatively correlated with inferior and primitive language forms, seen as unfit for the modern nation sate, which resulted in hostility towards their speakers, especially in education, although speaking standard French was very uncommon in the first part of the nineteenth century, and took place mainly in some circles of Paris. This, in turn, was done to promote citizenship (citoyenneté) based on the principle of jus soli, formulated for instance by Renan (1882) in his well-known question "Qu'est-ce qu'une nation?".
The denial of linguistic difference in France and Germany could be partially explained by their problematic cleavage structures, and as a solution to the problem, language was presented as the only way to integrate the divided nation, although the use of regional dialects in Germany survived in the form of spoken register in the private sphere. This, very much unlike in France, was viewed positively as enhancing the regional identity of its users without clear class-based (or other similar) connotations. However, the use of dialects vs. standard arguably led to controversy in the realm of education, for often pupils had no prior knowledge of standard before entering schooling. In this sense, people using a common (standard) language, as the future citizens of the nation, was a systematically produced artefact, yet when we discuss this type of citizenship education, curriculum history has paid surprisingly little attention to the language contention and disputes arising from the above-mentioned scenarios.
A closer look at the situation in the second part of the twentieth century demonstrates how this agenda has clearly been a "success story" in both countries. 4 As for Germany, for instance, writing at the time of (once again) divided nation, novelist Schneider (1982, pp. 207-208), in his "The Wall jumper" (Der Mauerspringer), reflected how national identity was still first and foremost associated with common linguistic characteristics: "If my fatherland exists, it is not a state; and a state whose citizen I am, is not a fatherland.
[…] The word 'German' can unequivocally only be used as an adjective, not with regards to a state or fatherland, but, as long as the present state of affairs is in question, in relation to a single noun: language". 5 Similarly for today's France, article II of the Constitution of 1958 still addresses a single language as an explicitly unifying element for the nation, i.e. "The language of the Republic is French" 6 (see Assemblée nationale, 2015). In short, while fundamentally different in many respects, France and Germany identified their national characters with their single languages (for Germany, see Fichte, 1806; for France, see Rivarol, 1784), depicted as the "organic" and "natural" bedrocks often in opposition to one another, which nevertheless formed the backbone for state development in these countries at least since the start of the French Revolution (May, 2001, pp. 57-59, 156-163).

Luxembourg and Switzerland
The multilingual countries of Luxembourg and Switzerland, in turn, are an excellent case in point for opposing this type of nation-building. Unable to rely on a single language for national cohesion (Barbour, 2000), they developed national identities that in effect praised multiculturalism and multilingualism by producing particular kinds of citizens, albeit for very different national reasons which themselves differed across time and space (Gardin & Brühwiler, 2016). In Luxembourg, French was historically the language of elite whereas the common people spoke Luxembourgish (Lëtzebuergesch), a West Central German dialect (for a discussion on the status of Luxembourgish, see Weber & Horner, 2012). This bilingual tradition was included in the constitution of 1848 as well as in the new curriculum of 1843 that made German and French the mandatory school languages (Gardin et al., 2015, pp. 539-540), the aim being a construction of truly bilingual citizens. 7 Nation-building in Switzerland, again, developed around a three-layered citizenship: communal, cantonal and national. This granted the four different ethnolinguistic communities-German, French, Italian and Romansh-extensive autonomies, particularly in education and language policy (Koller, 1999(Koller, , 2000, 8 which was similar to (and even more extensive than) Germany's sovereignty of culture (Kulturhoheit). Nevertheless, after the constitutions of 1848 and 1874-to boost intergroup relations and respect the various languages spoken in the country (whether minority or majority)most cantons introduced legislation that required pupils in schools to learn one of the other languages spoken in the country. This took normally place at a secondary level. In most cases, French became a compulsory second language for those speaking Swiss German (Schwizerdütsch), while standard German was made a mandatory second language for the French-speaking Swiss, respectively. 9 The idea was to maintain unity in diversity. Therefore, Lüthy's (1966, p. 41) famous statement "that Switzerland has never actually solved the political problem of multilingualism-but has avoided to pose it [as a problem]" 10 needs to be taken into better consideration when we discuss curriculum history.
In short, to simplify grossly, the Swiss and Luxembourgish citizens were located somewhere between the French notion of citoyen and the German idea of Bürger, albeit they varied a great deal in practice, particularly with regard to regional language usage combined with diglossia (dominant in German-speaking Switzerland) and triglossia (dominant in Luxembourg). 11 Yet again, it could be argued that it was the accommodation of this cultural plurality (or the language cleavage) in the education system that held the nation together, as Ammon (1995) formulates it: "According to Swiss understanding, language differences create no national differences, but on the contrary linguistic consensus necessarily means national togetherness". 12 In Luxembourg, national identity was centred on the concept of mixed culture, Mischkultur (e.g. Gardin et al., 2015). In Switzerland, the similar notion was Willensnation (e.g. Brühwiler, 2015), a group of people drawn together voluntarily for specific national purposes. By highlighting non-linguistic national unity, these ideas of citizenship distanced the countries from their larger European neighbours. Therefore, for example, the question "On what basis has a single national identity been created for Luxembourg and Switzerland despite the linguistic diversity of the countries?", relevant in curriculum history, does make less sense from a sociolinguistic viewpoint, since in these countries it was precisely linguistic diversity (rather than linguistic homogeneity) that the nation state was founded upon, albeit it seems that in Luxembourg this has been gradually changing with the heightened role of the Luxembourgish language since at least 1984, until the present. Furthermore, with regard to the use of Swiss German and Luxembourgish, sociolinguists would also critically question the term "national variety" in reference to German, and its problematic implications on citizenship-in conjunction with the impact of dialects and the so-called cross-cutting cleavages (Stevenson, 1997). In the same context, it is often pondered upon what the role is played by diglossia or triglossia in the formation of national identity in these countries (for a discussion, see Barbour, 2000).
In the post-war era, moreover, in Luxembourg and Switzerland, the French connection was highlighted to distance the countries from Germany and National Socialism (Clyne, 1991, p. 46, pp. 20-26). In effect, French came to enjoy high prestige among the German-speaking Swiss and Luxembourgers, respectively, 13 and is (at least so far) used as the main lingua franca within the different speech communities in these countries. Further, apart from the tensions arising from diglossia, the unpopular attitudes towards standard German as a spoken language appear more psychological in nature as the following comment from a French-speaking member of the Swiss Federal Assembly demonstrates (quoted in Stevenson, 1990, p. 246): "I can express myself eventually in German, but I do not do so in principle. I always speak French. I can make myself understood in all the languages, but in the Federal Assembly I only speak the language of the minority, which is French". 14 Luxembourgish, in turn, has now become increasingly a written language, which is also part of the education system as a language of instruction, albeit so far this has only been applied in an informal fashion to the mandatory pre-school (Spillschoul), after which German and French dominate to varying degrees depending on the level and direction of study.

Finland and Sweden
The bilingual country of Finland also respected the (mainly regional) dimension of its second language, Swedish, by including a charter in its Constitution of 1919 that guaranteed "the equality of national languages" (kansalliskielten yhdenvertaisuus) (quoted in Meinander, 1967, pp. 62-63): "The Swedish language is not a minority language, which enjoys special protection, but it has, along with the Finnish language, a fully equal status as the second official language of the country". 15 Finland Swedish (suomenruotsi/finlandssvensk), which was spoken by 10% of the Finnish population at the time, became the second national and official language, for Swedish was the language of the educated bourgeoisie, whereas the ordinary people spoke Finnish (suomi), a much older non-Indo-European language of Uralic origin. Similar to the case of French in Luxembourg, this was directly transferred to the curriculum during the post-war era, by making Swedish a compulsory school subject for all Finns, a practice which still persists today. 16 Thus, since 1917 until the present at least, the Finnish citizenship (kansalainen/medborgare) has been based on the unique promise of linguistic equality, i.e. on the official recognition, accommodation and respect of the differences between the small minority (Swedish-speaking Finns) and large majority (Finnish-speaking Finns).
From a sociolinguistic point of view, however, in education practice mainly Finland Swedish (rather than the register spoken in Sweden) remained the second compulsory national language for the Finnish-speaking Finns, although there were no major lexical or grammatical differences between the two forms. Finland Swedish therefore remained a quintessentially Swedish dialect which was nonetheless spoken and studied exclusively in Finland, with the spoken register also highly resembling the pronunciation of Finnish. This contrasts, for example, with Switzerland and Germany where the national and regional varieties of German were not historically learnt at school. Prior to the First World War, particularly for the Swedish-speaking Finns, Germany was seen as Finland's spiritual homeland, "die geistige Heimat" (see Saarinen, 1999, p. 243), in reference to "higher" civilisation and culture, i.e. Bildung, which was not accessible to the common people, i.e. the Finnish speakers. Yet, this Swedish "national variety" was simultaneously viewed by its speakers as distinct to Finland as a nation state, and rendered important in the struggle for and development of Finnish national consciousness between the Swedish and Russian empires (Vilkko, 2014). Hence, to balance the East-West conflict (which reached its height during the cold war), Sweden and Swedish were often seen as the gateway to western Europe vis-à-vis the Russian Empire, the Soviet Union, and later, the Russian Federation (Vilkko, 2014). Yet, to refer to Finland Swedish as a non-minority language, which does not enjoy special protection-as stated clearly in the Finnish Constitution-is becoming more controversial each year, for today the 95% of the lower socio-economic majority, which is Finnish-speaking, is required to learn the language of the 5% upper class minority, which is Swedish-speaking.
Nevertheless, while Finland pushed for this bilingualism as a citizenship right in its education system, Sweden did the opposite. Much like the French and German aspirations for linguistic unity after 1789, Swedification programmes (försvenskningsprogram)-with the desiderata of creating uniformity in the Kingdom since at least the late nineteenth century-aimed at ironing out any regional or cultural differences, including language (Vikør, 2000). A prime example for this was the treatment of the Finnish-speaking population, i.e. the largest "immigrant" group in Sweden. In education practice, most importantly, it was a lawful prerequisite that the Finnish-speaking Swedes would only use Swedish, in order to stop the spread of Finnish, and to create monolingual citizens-after the territory of Finland had become the autonomous Grand Duchy of the Russian Empire in 1809, and a new constitution had been crafted. Teachers were instructed to forbid pupils to speak Finnish at schoolas part of the "Swedish-only" curriculum policy, which nothing but fortified after a new school law had been passed in 1842-even among their peers in their free time (and thereby blurring the boundaries between public and private), although the northern border areas, for example, were bilingual and language usage was diglossic. 17 These minority languages, among them also Meänkieli (a Finnish dialect), were not officially recognised until 1999.
"I was whipped at school, and made into a good citizen and subject", 18 Pohjanen (2016) recalls in his poem "Born Tongueless" (Jag är född utan språk), referring to his childhood experiences in the Torne Valley, a border region between northern Sweden and Finland, during the 1960s. In other words, Pohjanen implies that one's new "self" was nothing but created in the Swedish education system, for "I was built from outside" (Pohjanen, 2016). 19 And, getting rid of one's mother tongue (in this case Meänkieli)-and thus part of one's identity as a "not-yet-citizen"-formed a crucial component in the making of Swedish-speaking citizens, which lasted long into the twentieth century. This further resulted in shame, trauma and exclusion for speaking a language other than Swedish, i.e. the only accepted language of schooling, a practice which goes contrary to the more general nineteenth-century "Nordic Enlightenment" or "Lutheran Protestantism" (Sørensen & Stråth, 1997), which are usually dominating Swedish educational history. Thus, historically, the Swedish citizen (medborgare) was to be essentially Swedish-speaking: monolingual and therefore monocultural like in France and Germany, not based on the accommodation of different ethnolinguistic groups as in Finland, Luxembourg or Switzerland, until very recently.

Conclusion
This paper has argued for the greater interdisciplinarity of two research fields, sociolinguistics and curriculum history, which are themselves already characterised by crossdisciplinarity. It is therefore surprising that their interaction, especially with regard to citizenship education, has not been more sufficiently addressed by mainstream scholars dealing with curriculum history, while from the side of sociolinguists the issue seems to be more acknowledged (see Weber & Horner, 2012). In this sense, by attempting to broaden the traditional research scope of curriculum history, I have stressed the importance of language controversy in the making of citizens in a number of European countries in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, highlighted the cross-country liaisons between the case studies, and reflected on some of the ways how sociolinguistic literature could expand, benefit, and elucidate the framework of curriculum history, and by that, also the broader frame of educational history. Then, how differently is the construction of citizenship understood within the boundaries of sociolinguistics and curriculum history? And, what are those interactions and transition points that are worth investigating, and where are they located?
The construction of citizenship within curriculum history, I have argued, should be better placed against and informed by sociolinguistic considerations, especially regarding the de facto language realities which seem to go often unnoticed, namely the neglected role of dialects and national language varieties-their tension with regard to intergroup relations (and therefore national cohesion)-which are essential but controversial aspects of European educational history that also obscure the limits between public and private spheres. By structuring and modifying the conditions of the curriculum, this is crucially related to the history of schooling as a medium to achieve idealised forms of citizenship that crosscut regional boundaries, and are used to overcome socio-economic cleavages. Then, if we are interested in opening up new horizons in the educationally informed creation of national identity, we should place more prominence upon these questions. They are worthy of investigation because they so clearly continue to condition national identity in Europe today. They matter and persist despite the challenges posed by Europeanisation, globalisation, internationalisation and mass migration which are now seen as defying the nation state as the major research unit in all academic discussions.
To mirror curriculum history from a sociolinguistic perspective can reveal hidden meanings and agendas, and adds another layer to these types of studies (albeit this does not necessarily concern the written curriculum), which further problematise some of the taken-for-granted assumptions about the history of citizenship education. The differences between curriculum history and sociolinguistics could thereby be measured around those transition points that are essentially located within language politics, i.e. both relate intrinsically to and overlap on language policy and planning, and have historically factored into nation-building. For example, as I have shown, the employment of the nouns "German" or "Swedish", referring to a single language, becomes highly problematic when we discuss their multiple national varieties (or pluricentricity) in a number of European contexts other than that of Germany or Sweden. In my view, it is essential that curriculum history takes on more critically these different interpretations of national realities, and measures them against historical findings and sources, and does not just mention them somehow en passant.
It is precisely here that sociolinguistics extends to and crosses over to curriculum history. Simply put: for sure, for the educated citizens at the time, finlandssvensk was not the same Swedish as that employed in Sweden. Lëtzebuergesch and Schwizerdütsch were definitely not considered as the registers spoken in Germany. On the contrary, they were viewed in many ways as "non-German" or something specifically inherent to Luxembourg and (German-speaking) Switzerland as a nation state (Haas, 1998;Stell, 2006), which were constantly being reinforced to distance the countries from Germany, especially during the post-Second World War period. Although the citizens in Luxembourg and Switzerland were made fully fluent in standard German largely through the education system, speaking Hochdeutsch was not a popular choice, but viewed as somehow a foreign language and the future citizens in these countries would have still preferred to use their local "dialect", in particular in all communication with their compatriots (Haas, 1998;Stell, 2006), the national variety sometimes also being incomprehensible to the speakers of standard German. The French connection forms an exception to this, because its use in Luxembourg and Switzerland was almost identical to that of France. In Luxembourg, no national "French dialect" ever existed but the language was largely "imported" from outside and applied from above to the mainly German-speaking (or perhaps better: Luxembourgish-speaking) population via the national education system. Therefore, no similar "distancing effect" occurred as with Hochdeutsch, a situation which is remarkably similar in Switzerland.
In the "monolingual" countries of France, Germany and Sweden, the situation was even more clear-cut, given their historically top-down language policies and their continuous failure to recognise diversity in their national curricula, and as a result: their hostility towards minority language users, albeit in Sweden there have been more recent developments towards greater regional acceptance. Thus, in some sense, we are still dealing with the "one-nation-one-language" ideology in all the case studies of this paper, but with a slightly different emphasis not the least because the majority language spoken still referred to a particular nation and state.
The often "heightened" role of minority languages, in turn, such as French in Switzerland and Swedish in Finland, also served a specific purpose, which went beyond the mere accommodation of the needs of the ethnolinguistic community in question, especially (but of course not exclusively) with regard to post-war political development and the employment of French and Swedish as the main lingua franca in communication between the different linguistic groups in these countries. Whether or not the increasing usage of English as a more neutral medium among the younger generations in Switzerland (and also to some extent in Luxembourg) will alter the language balance remains at the heart of the current debate (e.g. Koller, 2000, p. 601). The similar historical situation held true regarding the use of Swedish in Finland, but as yet again, the use of English in contact between the Swedes and Finns is now more the norm than the exception, and these days most Finns would be certainly classed as monolingual rather than bilingual, despite the huge effort and cost trying to educate bilingual citizens since 1917. This is nowadays coupled with the resistance from the side of the Swedish-speaking Finns who see their overall societal position threatened against their Finnishspeaking counterparts. The status quo resembles that of Switzerland where the French speakers are not comfortable with seeing English being positioned before French as the first foreign language of the curriculum, which has taken place in some of the German-speaking cantons, such as in Zurich from 2000 onwards. Of course, here it must be again noted that at a state level these languages were not referred to as minority languages as such, but rather as the national and official languages whose status was guaranteed by the constitution, as I have shown by referring to the relevant secondary literature.
In sum, sociolinguistics could provide a different methodological framework against which curriculum history and citizenship education could be articulated, researched and scrutinised. And from its part, by blurring unnecessary academic boundaries, this could provide a valuable and productive aid in the historic analysis of schooling practices, in order to catch "some understanding of the constraints beyond" (Goodson, 1988, p. 52). In other words, sociolinguistics could adjust the space of curriculum history away from its traditional realms of written source investigation towards a set of different questions, problems and possibilities altogether, which would be in line with the view on citizens; as socially engineered subjects; as outcomes of the curriculum; and as bearers of a particular nation state during a specific timeframe. http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/2331186X.2016.1251076 umgekehrt sprachliche Übereinstimmung notwendigerweise nationale Zusammengehörigkeit. (for Luxembourg, see Fehlen, 2008). 13. However, the current role of French in Luxembourg is far from unproblematic, not the least because French has become the most spoken language in the country, and as a lingua franca its contact varieties are used by the country's rapidly growing migrant populations, which today stand at 44%. This has resulted in the loss of prestige attached to the language. 14. Je peux m exprimer éventuellement en allemand, mais je ne le fais pas par principe. Je m'exprime toujours en français. Je sais m'exprimer dans toutes les langues, mais à l'Assemblée fédérale je parle uniquement la langue de la minorité, c'est-à-dire le français. 15. Ruotsin kieli ei ole vähemmistökieli, joka nauttii erityistä suojaa, vaan se on suomen kielen kanssa täysin yhdenvertaisessa asemassa maan toisena virallisena kielenä. 16. Here, it must be mentioned that there has been continuing and growing opposition against this practice, and like in Switzerland, the ideal of the bilingual nation state did not necessary imply bilingual citizens. 17. Not only was this practice stigmatising but there were also harsh penalties for this, the ultimate one being expulsion from school for failing to speak Swedish instead of Finnish or its dialects. 18. Minua piiskathiin koulussa oppimhaan ruottin, olheen ihmisiksi kunnon alamaisena. 19. Minut rakennethiin ulkoa pain.