Leinetal/Geisleden, Germany – Twelve-year-traditional Tamara Heckeroth carefully dips her fountain pen and begins to write, forming a script of loops, flourishes and sharp angles. The result is a far cry from modern handwriting, almost indecipherable to those unfamiliar with its intricacies. It is Sütterlin, a once-ubiquitous German cursive script now experiencing a revival, fueled by a desire to connect with the past.
Developed by Berlin graphic artist Ludwig Sütterlin beginning in 1911, the script was commissioned by the Prussian Ministry of Culture as a simplification of the earlier, more complex German Kurrentschrift. Initially taught in schools across Prussia, it quickly spread throughout Germany, becoming the standard handwriting for millions. However, in 1941, the Nazi regime abolished Sütterlin, replacing it with the Normalschrift, a more streamlined and standardized typeface.
“I think it looks beautiful, somehow like a cool secret code,” Tamara explained, acknowledging that her fascination with Sütterlin often requires explanation to her friends. Her interest was sparked by her grandfather, Heinrich Heckeroth, whose genealogical research relies heavily on the ability to decipher historical documents written in the script. Heckeroth, a long-time church warden, uses Sütterlin to navigate church records and unravel family histories, describing the successful decipherment of old documents as “a real achievement.”
Tamara and her grandfather are among the students attending a Sütterlin course in Geisleden, Eichsfeld, led by Birgit Tröße. Tröße has offered similar courses in Thuringia, Hesse, and Lower Saxony, and her latest course is already fully booked with 14 participants. “Most people come to the course for personal reasons, wanting to be able to read old letters from relatives,” Tröße said. However, the demand extends beyond personal connections, with participants including government employees, lawyers, and surveyors who encounter Sütterlin in their professional work.
The resurgence of interest in Sütterlin has prompted some concern about potential appropriation by extremist groups. While the Nazi regime ultimately banned the script, its aesthetic has been adopted by some on the far-right, who favor the older Fraktur typeface. Tröße acknowledged the issue, recounting an incident in South Thuringia where two men with questionable motivations enrolled in her course. She admitted to initially being naive but realized they were likely Reichsbürger – individuals who reject the legitimacy of the German state – and potentially intended to use Sütterlin for their own documentation.
Professor Michaela Fenske, chair of European Ethnology/Empirical Cultural Studies at the University of Würzburg, highlighted the historical irony of the Nazi regime’s suppression of Sütterlin, given their earlier use of both Fraktur and Sütterlin. Fenske emphasized the importance of Sütterlin literacy for accessing historical voices, particularly those of women. Beyond official documents, women frequently used Sütterlin to write diaries, poetry albums, and, importantly, recipe books and cookbooks – valuable personal testimonies of the past. “These are important self-witnesses,” she stated, adding that learning the script also allows individuals to read love letters from their parents and grandparents.
The Sütterlin course is affiliated with the “Arbeitskreis Alte deutsche Handschriften” (Working Group for Old German Scripts), which is part of the “Verein für Eichsfeldische Heimatkunde” (Association for Eichsfeld Local History). The continued demand for courses suggests a growing appreciation for this forgotten script and its connection to Germany’s cultural heritage.
