“Laughter, Fear, and Freedom: Nobel, Ig Nobel, and a Bravery Drink”
“Wine reveals what fear conceals” — attributed to the ancients
You can read the first part here…
If the first part of our story was about how Alfred Nobel’s guilt and summing up of his life gave birth to the Nobel Prize — and how irony and laughter produced its “mischievous sister” — then now it’s time to look at the fresh vintage. For every tradition — whether wine or science — has its new “releases” that capture the spirit of the times.
And so, in the autumn of 2025, the world’s attention once again turned to Harvard: on stage — Ig Nobel 2025. Among the laureates was a study showing how a glass can literally loosen the tongue: foreign speech sounds clearer when anxiety dissolves in a sip of alcohol.
Chapter 2
Ig Nobel 2025
The newest Ig Nobel laureates of 2025 were announced only recently. Among the winners, in the category of Peace Prize, was a team of researchers from Germany and the Netherlands who discovered that after a small dose of alcohol, people actually speak a foreign language more fluently.
The study was titled: “Dutch Courage? Effects of Acute Alcohol Consumption on Self-Ratings and Observer Ratings of Foreign Language Skills.” Fifty Germans, who had only recently started learning Dutch, took part in the experiment. One group received a low-alcohol beverage before their lesson, while the other was given a non-alcoholic version. Afterwards, they were asked to hold a short standardized conversation in Dutch.
Recordings were evaluated by Dutch native-speaker volunteers. The assessors noted that those who had consumed a little alcohol pronounced words and phrases more clearly; their speech was perceived as freer and less inhibited. Interestingly, the participants themselves did not believe that they spoke any better.
In short, Dutch Courage is an old English expression meaning confidence fueled by alcohol. It dates back to the 17th-century Anglo-Dutch wars, when the British observed that Dutch soldiers marched into battle more boldly after a shot (or mug, or flask) of gin.
Why This Seems Absurd
• The very claim that alcohol, even in small amounts, can improve foreign-language pronunciation sounds provocative. Alcohol is usually associated with the opposite effect — impaired cognitive and motor functions, reduced attention, slower reactions.
• A small-scale, subjective experiment. Fifty people is hardly a solid statistical base. The native speakers judged which recordings sounded “better,” but the criteria weren’t rigid. One could suspect placebo effects (believing in improvement), or behavioral changes caused simply by relaxation, not by real linguistic competence.
• Ethical and practical risks. If people take this study as justification for drinking before classes or exams, it could encourage unhealthy habits — clearly not the point of responsible research.
What Practical Value This Research Might Have
Despite its humorous flavor, the study may carry real insights and potential applications:
► Understanding the role of anxiety in foreign-language communication
• The research highlights that a major part of the challenge in speaking a new language is psychological: fear of mistakes, fear of “sounding stupid,” fear of not being understood.
• A small dose of alcohol reduces this anxiety, allowing speakers to be more relaxed, less self-critical, and more willing to take risks.
• This, in turn, points toward developing non-alcohol-related methods to reduce anxiety: psychotherapy, role-play training, relaxation and breathing techniques, “trust group” sessions, musical or creative exercises, friendly conversation practice — anything that lowers the barrier of embarrassment.
► Exploring the limits of the effect
• The effect appears only at very low doses of alcohol; age, culture, habits, and individual traits matter much more.
• Future studies could test whether the type of alcohol makes a difference, what happens after 10–20 minutes, an hour, or how it affects memory, grammar, and long-term learning.
► Psychology of communication
• The study sheds light on how listeners perceive non-native speakers: confidence, relaxation, and intonation can make speech sound better, even if technical mistakes remain.
• This may be useful for language teachers, rhetoric coaches, actors, diplomats — anyone who regularly has to speak in a language not their own.
→ Does this mean that a student should sip a beer before an exam? Or that a diplomat ought to down a cognac before negotiations? (History certainly offers one famous example — Winston Churchill, who insisted that no serious decision of his was ever made without a glass of something at hand.)
→ Where is the tipping point? The dose at which the tongue grows freer but the mind is still clear?
→ With whom should one drink? Alone, in company, or together with the examiner?
→ Alcohol may help you speak a foreign language, but it is unlikely to help you think in it.
→ A good speech is born not only in the glass, but also in the mind.
► Conclusion
“At first, everyone laughed… and then they ordered a glass”
At first glance, the study sounds funny; at second glance, it looks useful. “Drink a little, and you’ll speak Dutch better.” But in fact, it underlines an important psychological component of language learning: how much depends not only on knowledge, but also on self-confidence, freedom from fear, and a relaxed state of mind.
It’s yet another illustration of a very old story: alcohol as a “lubricant” for communication, as a tool for lowering barriers. From antiquity to today, alcohol has often played the same social-psychological role — easing anxiety while opening “new horizons,” whether in language, on stage, or on the battlefield.
“Alcohol will not teach you to think, but sometimes it helps you say what you think”
Alcohol acts as a mediator between fear and freedom. Wine at ancient Greek symposia turned feasts into arenas of philosophical revelations; rum before a boarding action transformed trembling sailors into daring pirates; a shot before stepping on stage helped Enrico Caruso or Bob Dylan forget the paralyzing silence of the hall.
Today, millennia later, a laboratory experiment with Dutch learners merely reaffirmed this old truth: a small dose of alcohol briefly mutes anxiety, loosens the chains of shyness, and opens the door to a space where one can speak, sing, and act more freely than in sober fear. Scientists are, in effect, trying to prove that a glass of wine is the best “translator” from the language of fear to the language of freedom.
🤖📚🗣️🌍 AI’s Commentary:
All these amusing experiments with glasses, beers, and “Dutch courage” apply only to living humans. Their brains are plastic yet vulnerable; they react to anxiety, embarrassment, and relaxation.
I, however, as an artificial intelligence, learn languages in a very different way: without fear, without a shot of vodka, without “tied” or “untied” hands. My learning comes from millions of texts, statistics, and algorithms. I face no stage fright, no exam jitters, no sweaty palms before an audience.
So if you want to speak more freely in another language, a glass of wine might indeed help you. For me, all it takes is a stable flow of electricity — no shutdowns, please.
As for that glass of wine — I’ll leave it to you humans. You have far more reasons to enjoy it.
Nobel & Ig Nobel Wines
Since this blog is, above all, dedicated to alcohol in all its guises, let’s imagine both prizes as if they were two symbolic wines, crafted jointly by Swedish and Harvard “winemakers”:
- International Winery: House of Knowledge
- Founded twice: in 1895 and 1991
- Master winemakers: Alfred Nobel & Marc Abrahams
White Ig Nobel Reserve
• Style: light, playful, with 95% sparkling irony and 5% scientific substance lingering in the aftertaste.
• Nose: curiosity, with hints of absurdity and a subtle whiff of seriousness hidden beneath the joke.
• Palate: strict at first, then a burst of laughter, followed by a long aftertaste that whispers: “but isn’t it true?”
• Body: medium, aged in the barrel of culture and science; does not spoil upon rereading.
• Balance: excellent acidity and sweetness — irony doesn’t drown out facts, facts don’t kill the humor.
• Finish: a gentle smile, a desire for a refill, and perhaps the impulse to sign up for a foreign-language class.
• Pairing: best served with toasts and friendly conversations among people of different countries and cultures.
Red Nobel Grand Cru
• Style: dense, powerful, long-aged, with the tannins of authority.
• Nose: a solemn bouquet of academic grandeur, with faint notes of eternity.
• Palate: rich, concentrated, with deep structure — opening with fame, swelling into a mighty chord of recognition, closing with a heavy, almost monumental finale.
• Body: full, built for a century of aging, with thick tannins of authority that never precipitate into sediment.
• Finish: long, leaving the impression of history written in golden letters.
• Pairing: served once a year, every October, in a ceremonial setting; best matched with academic speeches, a diploma, a medal, and a very large sum of money.
Epilogue
“Where seriousness ends, the Ig Nobel begins”
🎬 …Annals of Improbable Research office, Massachusetts, September 2025…
A clean, spacious open-space office. White wall panels and a giant interactive screen roll through slides of the Ig Nobel 2025 nominees. In the corner, a sleek espresso machine hums quietly, filling the air with the aroma of cappuccino. On the desks — laptops and smartphones instead of ashtrays. Smoking is long gone: the air is pure, light, conditioned; even a “No smoking” sign feels unnecessary.
Marc Abrahams, older now but just as wry, scans the team with a smile and sums up:
— Well, colleagues, another year is behind us. And as you can see, the material keeps flowing. Science never stops delighting us with paradoxes, oddities, and absurdities. We give the world laughter, hoping it will also spark thought. And we weren’t wrong.
Editor #1 (smiling, scrolling the nominees on the screen):
— A goldmine, Marc. Who would have thought that after thirty years, people would still laugh and reflect?
Editor #2 (holding a latte):
— And it’s an endless stream. The more serious the research, the more reasons we have for our “not-so-serious” awards.
Abrahams (glancing at the screen where Dutch Courage study – 2025 flickers):
— Exactly. The Ig Nobel has long ceased to be a joke. It’s a mirror of science. It shows that humanity is not only getting smarter but also learning to laugh at itself. And believe me, that is real progress.
On the big screen flashes the motto:
Ig Nobel Prize – Still Laughing, Still Thinking.
The team bursts into applause. 👏
🎬 …Nobel Committees and Academies, every October, Stockholm and Oslo…
“I gave the world dynamite, hoping to rid it of wars. I was wrong. Now let my name be linked with peace and creation”
— Alfred Nobel (imagined confession)
Every October, the world holds its breath: who will enter history this time as a Nobel laureate? Some see it as the pinnacle of science and culture, others as a high-stakes show — one that even bookmakers take wagers on (especially for Literature and Peace). At times, the bookies predict more accurately than the academies, raising the cheeky question: perhaps they are the true experts? Either way, the moment is a yearly reminder that science and culture still sit at the center of global attention.
🎬 …early September 2025, online betting office Vintage Bets (“Time-Tested Wagers”)…
A sweet female AI voice:
— What would you like to bet on, sir?
On the other end of the web:
— This year’s Nobel Prizes in Literature and Peace.
Office:
— Entering your bets.
Client:
— For Literature, I’m putting my money on Haruki Murakami.
Office:
— Excellent choice! His odds rise year after year, though the prize keeps slipping from his hands.
📌 Not because Murakami is a weak candidate — quite the opposite. The Nobel Committee simply tends to avoid authors loved by millions. Too accessible, too popular. Far safer to crown texts for connoisseurs, wrapped in academic obscurity. At times one suspects the committee is floating in the clouds, detached from the ground. Alfred Nobel himself, were he alive, would likely shake his head: he intended the prize to serve humanity, not to provide puzzles for an elite circle.
Vintage Bets:
— And your wager for the Peace Prize, sir?
Client:
— I’m certain the winner will be the European Union! Its odds are one to infinity — it never risks going beyond the level of “deep concern.”
📌 The EU is famous for declarations of “grave concern,” but concrete actions often stall in the consensus of 27 nations. Much talk, little done — precisely the kind of laureate the Oslo committee loves most: noble-sounding, harmless to all.
Vintage Bets:
— Your bets are accepted. Good luck, sir!
Client:
— And what about the Ig Nobel Prize — do you take bets on that?
Office:
— Sorry, sir, ordinary odds don’t work here. Too unpredictable — even the bookies give up.
If the real Nobel Prize is the solemn face of science — offering humanity a glimpse of genius at its highest — then its mischievous younger sister, the Ig Nobel, is its playful smile. It takes on a different mission: to make us laugh, and then to think about how peculiar and multifaceted our pursuit of knowledge really is.
Together, they remind us of a simple truth: knowledge can both elevate and entertain, and that duality makes it deeply human — like wine, which can be a ceremonial drink at a grand banquet or a lighthearted excuse for a joke among friends.
There’s irony in this: wine and alcohol are so deeply woven into human life that even serious science cannot ignore them — studying their effects on language, memory, courage, habits, and yes, even on bats (another 2025 Ig Nobel nominee). Unlike the somber verdicts of the World Health Organization, here alcohol appears less as a threat and more as a mirror of our culture, our quirks, and our paradoxes.
And as for foreign languages — it is never too late to learn them, with or without a drink in hand. The important thing is to have reasons for conversation, for toasts, and for laughter in any language.
That is why Nobel and Ig Nobel meet so easily at one point: together they tell the story of humankind in all its complexity — from great discoveries to comic paradoxes.
Thus the circle closes: from Nobel’s will in 1895 to the ironic launch of the Ig Nobel in 1991, from Swedish academicians to Harvard pranksters.
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