Luxembourgish… how deeply I love this language. From childhood until today, it has remained the language I most naturally and comfortably return to in order to express myself. And when people tell me that Luxembourgish is not really a language, but rather German or a German dialect, I must admit that I immediately feel the urge to become a great linguistic expert and proudly defend the dialect of my homeland.

And quite ironically, that very tendency became a national topic during the weeks in which I was working on this Carte Blanche. Frustrating, of course, when you spend two weeks working on something that already feels like old news by the time it is published, but all the more motivating when I see how many people have already spoken out about it. Because when I look at what is sometimes being said in public spaces, I almost feel ashamed to still be associated with Luxembourg.

Xenophobia is certainly nothing new. It already existed on the Internet fifteen years ago. But back then, at least, people only dared to express questionable opinions when hiding behind nicknames. Today, it has become completely normal for people to say truly terrible things using their real names, photographs, workplaces and schools openly displayed online. And why? Because apparently it is “not racism” to claim that “the French are lazy” or that they are always rude at the bakery.

But where does this lead us, and why am I telling you all this? After all, I am supposed to be here to talk about young people.

Several years ago already, through my work, I began noticing that more and more young people were once again expressing themselves in ways that were far less “politically correct,” and doing so quite openly, both among friends and in front of adults. And when, as recently as this week, I discuss this topic with young people, one thing stands out above all else: there is often a real lack of knowledge about the consequences of racism and xenophobia in the past, as well as the potential dangers of this kind of thinking today.

This week, for example, some young people were genuinely curious to understand what the issue was really about and why it seemed so serious to me. As I explained it to them, I truly had the impression that they were discovering something entirely new. And when someone asked me, in the context of a controversial French comedian, “What exactly is an antisemite?”, I realised how much educational work and awareness-raising still remains to be done.

Even within my own circle of friends, there are some truly wonderful young people who, unfortunately, almost every time the topic of foreigners comes up, make extremely racist remarks — remarks that do not fit at all with the image I have of them. And of course, the classic phrase always appears: “I’m not racist, but…” The explanation for their attitude came from other mutual friends: “If you knew his father, you would understand why he is like that.” Well… great job.

But what does all this mean for you, dear listeners?

Young people are easily influenced — positively as well as negatively. What may feel perfectly acceptable to you as a way of venting frustration about a rude cross-border worker can become, for your children, permission to adopt that same attitude themselves.

Allow me, just once more, to paint the devil on the wall.

Let us imagine that this new xenophobic minority eventually became a majority. Let us imagine that our neighbouring countries also continued moving in the same direction. What is this really about, deep down? Mostly jealousy. And what happens when the world starts becoming jealous of the “evil Luxembourger” who supposedly has too much money, launders money, and so on? At that point, the new xenophobes could repeat as often as they like that they are different, that they do not actually have much money and have never laundered money — they would still end up condemned in exactly the same way. Because that is how racism works. It does not matter who you are, what you own, or what you think. In the end, it only cares about your supposed race or origin.

I did, however, experience one small glimmer of hope on Facebook. Someone named Egbert Sousé wrote there: “I could do it, I am smart enough for that. But I do not want to — I am foolish enough for that.”

Be a good example for young people. We all have something to gain from it.