Sep 1st, 2005 | Essays, French, Translation | No Comments
By Yves Avérous
In my language direction, English to French, the first word that comes to mind when I am asked about untranslatable words or expressions is serendipity. And, in fact, I’m apparently not the only one: in June, 2004, a British translation company voted serendipity one of the ten most difficult words in the English language to translate. But the problem in French, as it turns out, is less about finding an equivalent concept than it is about finding as beautiful a word! (Although the word form has lately been imported into French as sérendipicité or sérendipité, these are not accepted, or even known, usages.)
It took an extremely refined Earl of England, Horace Walpole, to coin a noun so flourished and evocative. And discovering this word for the first time was for me—as I suspect it might be even for native English speakers—itself serendipitous, a “happy discovery” or “happy coincidence.”
Serendipity has no direct equivalent in French, but there is more than one popular expression to translate this happy turn of fate. “Ça tombe à pic,” “quel heureux hasard,” or even the optimistic saying “le hasard fait bien les choses.”
Here is a word with the quality of never being boring; it conjures up the most exciting and extravagant stories. Even the sound of it stirs the imagination: “serene,” “Serengeti,” “dippity-doo,” “des petits sereins” (little birds) … and all sorts of pleasing notions. Serendipity, in fact, comes from a quite beautiful proper name in itself: “Serendip,” an old name for the island of Sri Lanka, also known as Ceylon. And it is a legendary tale, “The Three Princes of Serendip,” which so enthralled Walpole that it inspired him to create our untranslatable word!
The connection? Ceylon was fashionable at the time of the writing of the tale, and riddle-solving in the literary salons of elegant Venice even more so. What made the three princes of Serendip successful was their great sense of observation and deductive reasoning, which led to Walpole’s notion of “a gift for discovery by accident and sagacity while in pursuit of something else.”
The original definition of serendipity is indeed “discovery by accident,” but in a very neutral, not necessarily happy, way. When, for example, Alexander Fleming noticed as he was cleaning his laboratory that penicillin mold had contaminated one of his experiments, the discovery of this wonder drug could certainly be said to have been a “serendipitous” event.
These days, one of the best ways to make serendipitous discoveries is to browse the Internet with the help of a search engine such as Google or Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia. Using either of these tools one can, and often does, stumble upon unexpected (and sometimes unexpectedly happy) discoveries. (A caveat—because Wikipedia is written by its readers in a collaborative effort, not all that is published there is to be taken as gospel. Perhaps that’s why the French version of the serendipity article is titled “Sérendipité”!)
Wikipedia will, however, reward you with an article by Robert Boyle on “The Three Princes of Serendip,” which brings to light the amazing voyage of the tale from its introduction to a Western audience in 1557 by Venetian publisher Michele Tramezzino to its ultimate role almost 200 years later in inspiring the famous word. It was in 1754 that Lord Walpole acknowledged in a correspondence to his friend Horace Mann the receipt of a painting, painstakingly obtained, as serendipitous.
The final words on the subject belong to author John Barth who, in The Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor (1991), wrote a beautiful evocation of serendipity: “You don’t reach Serendip by plotting a course for it. You have to set out in good faith for somewhere else and lose your bearings, serendipitously.”
May 1st, 2005 | Essays, Translation | No Comments
By Ines Swaney
With this column we begin a series on words and phrases—in English and other languages—that pose particular difficulties in translation. The idea for the series was a set of articles on the same theme on the website opendemocracy.net. Long-time NCTA member Ines Swaney gets us started, with an overview of the topic.
When I was asked to contribute an article on the subject of untranslatable words, my first thought was to select a few chosen items from those I’ve been forever gathering, and point out the inherent difficulties in rendering these terms into another language. But then I realized that the level of untranslatability of a given word or expression depends to a large degree on the language pair we are dealing with.
We could take an anglo-centric approach and assume that we are always translating either from or into English. However, we all know professionals who translate or interpret from one language into another without English being part of the picture. For example, a close colleague is quite comfortable working between Spanish and German, in either direction. So it would seem that what becomes challenging when the English language is involved in our work might in other instances not be an issue at all.
Let’s take the simple English word “you.” In Spanish we would need to figure out whether to use the formal or informal version, and also whether it is “you” in the singular or “you” in the plural. I confess that on more than one occasion while communicating in Spanish with individuals also fluent in English, I have made a deliberate switch to English in my conversation, for the sole purpose of not having to decide which Spanish version of “you” I should use: either the “tú” (informal) or the “usted” (formal).
There are some languages, such as Polish or Hungarian, where a phrase as simple as “My cousin got married” becomes untranslatable, unless further information is provided. In both of these languages, the translator or interpreter must first find out whether this cousin was male or female, because the gender will dictate which form of the verb “to marry” should be used.
Then there are situations in which you know exactly how to express the concept in both languages, but subtle nuances and the “politically correct” climate make our translating task almost impossible. A few years ago I made up a phrase that I considered virtually impossible to translate in a way satisfactory to everyone: “The child was raised by a single parent in the inner city.”
To properly translate this into Spanish, one would first need to know, as we learned above, the gender of the child. But beyond that, there’s a difference between calling someone an “unwed mother” or “unwed father” vs. using the more contemporary term “single parent.” Some single parents are divorced, others never married, others widowed. Spanish has no specific word for “parent,” a word that exists only in its plural version. And what is “inner city”? Is it a ghetto, or a slum? Not necessarily so. Is it “downtown”? Nope. So far, the most acceptable rendering of “inner city” that I’ve been able to come up with in Spanish translates back into English as “the guts of the city” or “the innards of the city,” using the same words as would generally describe the internal organs of a human being or animal.
The extremely detailed and thorough McGill Pain Questionnaire contains a long list of words describing every possible nuance and type of pain that one could ever imagine. Originally in English, it now appears to have been translated into quite a few other languages. Nothing seems to match English in brevity. At least in Spanish, many types of pain can only be expressed in lengthy, descriptive terms such as “as if you were being poked,” or “as if you were being pinched.” Just as we’ve become accustomed to dictionary and software reviews, it might be an interesting exercise for readers to find a version of this Questionnaire translated into the language of their choice and provide a critique as to the quality of the work. It should be a challenging experience.
One final thought: it is my hope that I won’t have to translate this article … since it contains so many words that are tough to translate, including the word “challenging” in the preceding paragraph.
May 1st, 2005 | Essays, Interpretation, Movie Review | No Comments
By Carolina Arrigoni-Shea
Interpreting, as a form of mediating oral communication among diverse language groups, has been with us since ancient times. Yet, its recognition as a profession—and as a field of study per se—is relatively recent. As many of us eagerly await the release of the film The Interpreter, our hopes are that this production will help bring the significance of the profession to the forefront of public awareness.
You are a member of the U.N. Security Council’s elite core of simultaneous interpreters. One day, in the course of your duties, you overhear an assassination plot targeting an African head of state, spoken in a rare dialect few people other than you can understand. As you report the threat to the FBI, you inadvertently become the center of an international crisis, and thus put your own life at risk. The U.S. Secret Service is now charged with your protection but, as events escalate, a dark shadow of suspicion is cast over you, as well. Will a protector who does not fully trust you be able to keep you safe?
Such is the dilemma of the lead character in Universal Pictures’ new film, The Interpreter. A tale of international intrigue, political tension, romance and, yes, interpretation, at the very highest levels of the profession. How did the film come into being? What behind-the-scenes maneuvering was required to get it produced? And how will it play to the uninitiated public?
A bit of history provides some context. The United Nations General Assembly established simultaneous interpreting as a permanent service in November, 1947, following the precedent set by the International Military Tribunal in Nuremberg after World War II.
Since that time, the U.N. Interpretation Service has grown considerably, and today, the Chief of the Service sets the course for 120 permanent interpreters and 80 additional freelancers. These linguists are the force behind the six language sections of the United Nations: Arabic, Chinese, English, French, Russian, and Spanish (otherwise known as the “official” U.N. languages).
Hollywood comes calling
When the U.N. linguists learned that a major film production featuring an interpreter as the protagonist would be shot at the organization’s headquarters, they were naturally very excited. “It’s always very interesting and we thought it would put the profession on the map,” commented Brigitte Andréassier-Pearl, Chief of the Interpretation Service at U. N. Headquarters in New York. If the curious and interested reactions of the film crew are any indication, the movie-going audience will certainly be awakened to the magic of the interpreting craft.
For the record: The Interpreter marks the first time a motion picture has ever been granted access to the inner corridors of the United Nations’ historic home in East Manhattan. Yet, initially, director Sydney Pollack was denied authorization to film inside the politically-charged sanctuary—just as others were before him, including Alfred Hitchcock. But Mr. Pollack argued the case before Secretary General Kofi Annan, stating that, although The Interpreter was a fictional thriller, the story was in line with the values of the United Nations. Highlighting the principle of “diplomacy over violence,” the theme of the film certainly carried a strong weight in the final decision. And as an added bonus, Mr. Pollack’s crusade received backing from key players within the U.N. Department of Public Information and the New York Film Offices (at both city and state level).
Filming began in March 2004, and had to follow strict guidelines. “They could only shoot on weekends,” recalled Ms. Andréassier-Pearl. “They would come at 6:00 PM on Fridays, and that went on for about four months … the whole neighborhood was invaded with trailers, trucks and equipment.” Somehow, despite the usual glitz and commotion which befits any true Hollywood production, filming The Interpreter did not disrupt the organization’s regular activities. It was understood that the film could pose no diversion to the Security Council whatsoever. Thus, each Monday morning when the U.N. staff returned to their posts, all was exactly back to normal.
Working with the stars
In her capacity as Chief of the Interpretation Service, Ms. Andréassier-Pearl was the ideal candidate to serve as consultant for the film, although her path up through the ranks was hardly traditional. She had first entered the organization 34 years ago, as a secretary. “I am not the typical case because I was already working in the U.N. before becoming an interpreter,” she said. “As a fringe benefit when you work for the United Nations, you can take language courses during lunch time. I was interested in Chinese and joined the Chinese class. There were a lot of interpreters trying to add languages, official languages, and I met several of them. That’s how I was introduced to the work of the interpreter at the U.N., and I got the idea of becoming one. But as you can imagine, it doesn’t happen overnight.” A few years later, Ms. Andréassier-Pearl joined the French Section staff and eventually went on to lead the unit for three years, prior to her appointment as head of the entire Service.
Given that her own language story is somewhat non-traditional, what is the more typical road to the much desired U.N. booths? Most interpreters come to the U.N. from interpreting schools. With a degree behind their names, interpreters the world over apply for jobs at the United Nations and sit for competitive exams when—or rather “if”—these are offered. “You have to understand one thing,” noted Ms. Andréassier-Pearl. “It is such a good job that nobody quits. There are openings when people retire. So that’s when we organize the examinations.”
As the film’s U.N. interpreting consultant, Ms. Andréassier-Pearl worked directly with Academy Award® winning actress Nicole Kidman. In order to help her prepare for her role, the Chief Interpreter led Ms. Kidman around the hallways of the U.N. Headquarters, showing her the imposing, and familiar, sites of the General Assembly and the Security Council, and accompanying her to the interpreters’ booths. “Everywhere we walked around in the U.N., people turned in awe—like we all do when we see celebrities,” said Ms. Andréassier-Pearl. “I felt like a million dollars when I was taking her around, that’s for sure.”
The actress observed regular U.N. meetings and sessions. She watched the interpreting process closely, and asked questions about the profession that would contribute to the depth of her character. In addition to this, Ms. Kidman worked with a dialect coach to become fluent in the fictitious African language dubbed “Ku” (her mother tongue on the screen), as well as to gain proficiency in French and Spanish.
As for director Sydney Pollack, he is known for his thorough research and desire for authenticity when making films. For this story, he probed to uncover the typically mysterious and anonymous life of an interpreter. “He’s a great professional to work with,” remarked Ms. Andréassier-Pearl.
In fact, a very unique contribution to the film originated from their collaboration. During one of their many conversations, Mr. Pollack inquired “What sort of hobbies do interpreters have? What do they do in their free time?” Ms. Andréassier-Pearl tried to explain to him that it was difficult to speak on behalf of the 100+ people that work at the Interpretation Service, but director Pollack insisted: “For instance, you—what do you do in your free time?” It turns out that the U.N. Chief Interpreter is also an accomplished musician, who belongs to an orchestra, and plays the bassoon. She talked with Mr. Pollack about her hobby and the idea stuck. In the film, he gave the character of the interpreter a musical bent. “Now, in the movie, it’s actually a flute,” explained Ms. Andréassier-Pearl. She wonders whether Nicole Kidman will appear playing music only briefly, but regardless of how long that shot lasts, she is pleased that her “hobby” made it into the film.
Into the public’s mind
Going beyond the realm of cinematography, what is the general public’s perception of U.N. interpreters, and the interpreting profession as a whole? In the words of Brigitte Andréassier-Pearl: “When we first started, everybody was in awe of the profession, wondering ‘How can this be done? Somebody is speaking a given language and the interpreters are rendering in another language at the same time—simultaneously—what is being said.’”
In all likelihood, the release of The Interpreter will contribute to a stronger, more widespread awareness of the highly demanding and specialized nature of interpreting. Already, the publicity leading to the event has generated much interest in this not-so-publicized calling. For sure, director Pollack promises to keep us on the edge of our seats because “In the right hallway, at the right time, all it takes is a whisper to tip the balance of power.”
Production Notes
The Interpreter
Starring: Nicole Kidman, Sean Penn, Catherine Keener; Directed by: Sydney Pollack; Universal Pictures; nationwide release April 22, 2005
Locations for the first film ever to be shot inside the U.N. Headquarters include the General Assembly and the Security Council, as well as corridors and hallways of the complex.
Alternative options in case authorization was denied included building a replica of the U.N. General Assembly in Toronto, using miniatures and resorting to computer-generated images.
Original U.N. rooms and furnishings were used in most cases, except for the actual interpreting booths, which were too small and cramped to allow for reverse camera angles. They had to be recreated on a soundstage.
Kidman’s character, and that of the threatened head of state, hail from an entirely fictitious African country named “Matobo.” Likewise, this nation’s language, dubbed “Ku,” is an imaginary tongue developed by linguists—a cross between Swahili and Shone.
The distinction “interpreter” vs. “translator” became an inside joke between the U.N. Chief Interpreter and director Pollack. Almost automatically, his typical utterance “you translators” would be followed by an, “oops, interpreters.”
Filming at the U.N. took place only after hours, on weekends.
Each member of the production—from the stars to the grips—was required to wear ID badges and go through security screening every day. Equipment was regularly inspected by bomb-sniffing dogs.
Some of the extras in the film are actual U.N. staff members.
Special thanks to Brigitte Andréassier-Pearl for her generous time; Universal Studios Publicist Tim Black for his timely assistance; and to the many NCTA interpreters who shared their valuable insights into the profession.
Feb 1st, 2005 | Essays, Literary Translation, Translation | No Comments
By Steven Goldstein
Part I of this series, “The Language of Magic,” appeared in the December 2004 Translorial and addressed several of the more important cultural and language-related issues involved in the translations of the Harry Potter books. This installment covers various contractual, procedural, and otherwise special challenges that the translators faced.
As July celebrations go, it can’t possibly hold a candle to the pomp and ceremony of, say, the national Independence Days of countries like Canada, France, or the United States.
But then, nobody’s talking about those festivities the way they’re buzzing about the upcoming birthday of Harry Potter, VI.
With Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince— the penultimate book in the tale of the magical young wizard – set to be published on July 16th, 2005, Potterphiles the world over are already kicking into overdrive. The rumor mills have started cranking. Chat rooms are overflowing. And after an unusually long period of slumber this time around, the sleeping giant that is Potter global merchandising has once again been awakened. Welcome to the next installment of Harry Potter, Superstar. And to the workings of the translators who are so integral to its production.
Working for a living
Torstein Høverstad, the Norwegian translator of Harry Potter, is among the many who have described the experience of being a literary translator as that of attempting something inherently impossible, being badly paid, and remaining virtually invisible— and that’s if you’re successful. Yet still, in our celebrity-addled world, it is hard to imagine that there’s not at least a certain cachet that comes with being a Harry Potter translator, basking in the ever-widening glow of rock-star author J.K. Rowling’s fame, fortune, and adulation. This cachet does, in fact, have some truth to it, but the reality is often far different from our perceptions.
In Part I of this series, we saw how the Potter translators had a certain freedom to decide for themselves on matters of linguistic integrity, most notably in whether or not to translate Rowling’s marvelously whimsical and inventive names. Torstein Høverstad believed that everything in the original that could be translated should be translated. Many of the 60-odd other translators, however, opted for a much less aggressive posture in the matter, leaving many of the names in their original forms.
Much of this, although admittedly not all, has had to do with the entrance of Warner Brothers into the picture. In 1999, around the time of the publication of the third book in the series, the media conglomerate purchased the rights to the entire Harry Potter franchise, in effect buying creative control for how all subsequent items in the series— movies, toys, video games, and yes, foreign book translations— would be marketed. With this came the company’s attempt— largely successful, it should be noted— to impose on the translators a contract that would oblige them to give up many of the translation rights that they had originally held.
The translators must wait, like everyone, for the English publication
In addition to restricting or even forbidding the translation of names— which would make it easier to conduct global marketing campaigns— the contract generally redefined the terms of agreement, including remuneration and deadlines. Those translators who had the most flexibility in negotiating these conditions with their individual publishing houses were those, like Hoverstad, who had completed translations before Warner Brothers appeared on the scene. At the other end of the spectrum, however, the negotiations tended to be far harsher: in one notable instance, the Catalan translator of the first four novels, Laura Escorihuela, adamantly refused to give up her rights by signing the contract, and was thus barred from translating subsequent Harry Potter books.
And what do Harry Potter translators get paid for their efforts? It varies, of course: while royalties are rare anywhere and in some countries, like China, the rate can actually be below market, in general fees range from slightly above the standard market rate to even fairly generously above it in certain countries. Even in the latter instances, however, most of the translators will still say that they are paid like … well, like translators.
A need for speed
Much has been written about the often brutal deadlines imposed on the Potter translators. And much of it is true. As Warner Brothers is intent on preventing any leaks of the stories to the general public, the translators must wait, like everyone else, until publication of the original English version before being able to begin work.
Although a five-month period has not been unusual in some cases for the most recent, very long volumes, there is often pressure from Warner Brothers to have the translations completed much more quickly. Jean-Francois Menard, the French translator, translated the 700-plus page fourth book, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, in just 63 days. Torstein Høverstad negotiated a bonus percentage with his publisher if he was able to finish the same book in a similar two-month period. (He did.) And Hanna Lutzen and Victor Morozov each formulated plans to translate the even longer Book V, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, into Danish and Ukranian, respectively, in the same eight-to-ten week timeframe.
Gili Bar-Hillel, the Hebrew translator, agrees that the pressure is intense but in her case believes that this actually contributes to the quality of her translations, for two reasons: first, she must by necessity be single-mindedly focused on the task, and second, everyone around her— including her family— is geared to helping her work as fast and as effectively as possible.
Even in the face of such pressures, the translators tend, on the whole, to work alone (although their work is of course checked by the publisher’s professional editors and proofreaders). Lia Wyler refused to hire an assistant for the Brazilian Portuguese version, saying that she would in effect need a clone of herself, someone with an identical linguistic background, right down to her neighborhood and accent. “Language is collective,” she says, “but vocabulary is extremely individual.” Even when confronted with difficult linguistic problems, the translators often must rely on their own ingenuity and creativity (and dictionaries) to solve them. Contact with J.K. Rowling is not an option, as the author has generally not made herself accessible to the translators, nor has her agent been especially forthcoming on problematic areas of the translations.
Of pirates and proofreaders
Publishers demand speed for another reason: the existence of “pirate,” or unofficial, translations, that are often collaborations of Potterphiles on the Internet, and which can be published months ahead of the sanctioned version. In China, several Harry Potter fans started to translate Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix two months before the publisher’s paper edition was due to appear, updating it on the Internet at a rate of 10,000 Chinese words a day. Although these counterfeit translations are for obvious reasons of a generally inferior quality, they demonstrate the zeal of Potter fans to get their hands on the stories as quickly as possible.
A somewhat more satisfying, but no less vexing, issue is that of the hordes of Potterphiles who care so much about the books that they read every word as if they were professional proofreaders or editors. Within a week of the Israeli publication of Book V, Gili Bar-Hillel already had a list of four mistakes that readers had found, including a missing period, a missing letter, and two minor spelling mistakes (all of which were corrected in subsequent printings). This was nothing, however, compared to the ten-year-old bilingual Brazilian child who challenged— quite publicly and aggressively— Lia Wyler’s Portuguese translation of the difficult word “muggle”!
Readers become proofers and editors
A tale in motion
Beyond the contracts, the money, and the deadlines, the Harry Potter series presents one final, and unusual, challenge: it is an unfinished story; the fact is, some things are simply unknowable until J.K. Rowling puts the final period at the end of the final sentence of the seventh book. None of the translators was aware there would be a second book until each had completed work on the first. Lia Wyler acknowledges that this fact would certainly have influenced her reinvention of certain proper names. The Spanish translators did, in fact, go so far as to make a mid-course correction: they had translated “Professor Sinistra” as (a masculine) Profesor Sinistra, and had to make a quick gender change to Profesora Sinistra when they found her dancing with Mad-Eye Moody in Book IV.
Retranslations are commonplace with great literature. Is it possible that once the series is finished, and perhaps after a generation has passed, other translators, who might be able to work at leisure, would want to tackle the saga anew, in the quest of new versions that might reach a fuller potential? Maybe. But for now, our current translators have only one thing on their minds. A birthday, this summer.
Test Yourself
How would you translate the famous “Riddle of the Sphinx,” from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire? Give it a try, and then check your translation against that of the published versions, at http://www.iti.org.uk/indexMain.html. If you don’t have Internet access, drop a line to the editor for a copy of the answers.
(Source: TransLittérature, ITI Bulletin, No. 24, Winter 2002, Paris, with kind permission.)
The Riddle of the Sphinx
”First think of the person who lives in disguise,
Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.
Next, tell me what’s always the last thing to mend,
The middle of middle and end of the end?
And finally give me the sound often heard
During the search for a hard-to-find word.
Now string them together, and answer me this,
Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?”
References
For more information on Harry Potter translators, see the following resources, which in part informed this series:
- “The Translatability of Harry Potter,” by Miranda Moore, in the Wikipedia Internet Encyclopedia
- “Harry Goes to Paris,” Translatio (FIT), Vol. 4, 2003
- “Harry Potter for Children, Teenagers and Adults,” by Lia Wyler, Meta XLVIII, 1-2, 2003
Special thanks to Gili Bar-Hillel and Lia Wyler for their generosityin sharing their illuminating insights into the translation experience. The author is also extremely grateful to the many NCTA members who contributed their impressions, opinions, and encouragements, without which this series would have been by far the poorer: Thank you Catherine Theilen-Burke, Brigitte Keen, Anne Milano Appel, Naomi Baer, Martin Hoffman, and Christoph Niedermair.
Feb 1st, 2005 | Essays, Interpretation, Opinion, Translation | No Comments
By Marianne Pripps-Huertas
What is interculturalism? As globalization moves to the fore as one of the most powerful socio-economic influences of the new century, communication and understanding across cultures become ever more important. Are our well-practiced services of translation and interpretation enough to help the peoples of a shrinking world understand each other? In this article, NCTA member and interculturalism expert Marianne Pripps-Huertas sheds light on this emerging field.
When I first discovered the world of intercultural communication back in 1986, it confirmed for me many of the ideas I had had for several years, especially after arriving at Stanford University, where I did my Master’s thesis in Applied Communication Research. At the time, I went through a difficult, and unexpected, period of culture shock: professors didn’t look out for their students; teaching assistants taught most of the classes; and, with the exception of a fellow student named Shining Chen, from Taiwan (to whom I shall always remain grateful for her constant help), students wouldn’t share their notes or provide assistance to their peers because of competition – all of which was completely unheard of, and even unacceptable, in my country.
Origins and practices
What is intercultural communication? What defines interculturalism? And more to the point, what role does it play in the life of a translator/interpreter? Noted anthropologist Dr. Edward T. Hall was the first to define the field and provided solid scholarship. Culture as such is now defined in several (and hotly contested) ways, but one of the simplest and most straightforward is the traditions, customs, norms, beliefs, values, and thought-patterning passed down from generation to generation. Communication is an element of culture. Godwin C. Chu observed that every cultural pattern and every single act of social behavior involves communication. Thus, to be understood, both concepts must be studied together. Intercultural communication generally refers to face-to-face interactions among people of diverse cultures, a slightly different concept from cross-cultural communication, which refers to comparing phenomena across cultures.
Consider the following exchange, excerpted from a court transcript:
Magistrate: Can you read and write?
Defendant: Yes.
Magistrate: Can you sign your name?
Defendant: Yes.
Magistrate: Did you say you cannot read?
Defendant: Hm.
Magistrate: Can you read or not?!
Defendant: No.
Magistrate: [Reads statement.] Do you recall making that statement?
Defendant: Yes.
As a court interpreter, I encounter similar exchanges frequently. Yet my duties as an interpreter forbid me to intervene to help clear things up. It would be in my role as an interculturalist that I could help unravel this obvious miscommunication. Permission to do so depends on the relationships the interpreter has developed with the parties involved. Personally, I have a very good and longstanding relationship with the judges, attorneys (on both sides of the equation), and others at my courthouse. They have understood and supported my intervention as a cultural specialist when they have recognized that there was an obvious issue. Indeed, many experts now believe that the traditional interpreter or translator role will give way to one where the professional in both fields will become a cultural mediator.
Beyond such courtroom intervention, what does an interculturalist do, exactly? On any given day, interculturalists may train a group of businesspeople on the finer points of a country’s business practices. Or help a businessperson and his family with the social issues involved with re-entering their native culture after a long sojourn abroad. Some interculturalists like myself do research on different aspects of culture. In my case, I’m interested in acting and media, and also the development of cooking. Yet, we might be teaching students who will be going abroad, or taking Rotarians on a virtual cultural tour of a country they will visit with the organization.
In many ways the saying “know thyself” is not well said. It is more practical to say “know other people!”
-Menander, Greek poet (343-292 B.C.)
Skills for the global community
Interculturalism as a field has been growing, most especially with the advent of globalization, as companies recognize the need to understand the cultures in which they do business. An example of this is the creation of Global Teams, a collection of specialists who work together virtually to resolve specific problems within a company. One of the first institutions to hire interculturalists was the U.S. Army, after it started opening up bases all over the world and needed to assess readiness to serve overseas. Today, many different types of companies, institutions, and individuals have a need for intercultural expertise.
Although it may at first seem counterintuitive, this expertise doesn’t necessarily involve language all the time. A question we’re asked often, in fact, is whether a monolingual person who’s never lived abroad can be an intercultural expert. My answer is always a resounding “Absolutely!” I work with quite a few trainers who are monolingual and excellent interculturalists because they share specific skills or traits that are necessary to perform competent training and intercultural work. These include the acceptance and respect of differences, an open-mindedness to new ideas, and the ability to listen carefully.
Dr. Fred Jandt, a researcher in intercultural issues, notes that good intercultural communicators have personality strength, communication skills (verbal and nonverbal), psychological adjustment, and cultural awareness?not all of which, obviously, automatically come with being bi-or multilingual. The mere fact of speaking more than one language, or having lived in another country, in and of itself does not make us instant cultural experts. Even though I grew up bilingual and bicultural, I had to acquire and practice some of these traits, just as I had to learn translation and interpreting skills that did not come easily. In fact, I know of interpreter colleagues who possess none of these traits and would not make good interculturalists. As unique aspects of each culture are reflected through its language, the translator/interpreter is well served if he can leverage these aspects – indeed if he can apply the very principles of interculturalism – to help in his work of the accurate transmission of thoughts and ideas.
Schools and programs
How can a translator/interpreter become an interculturalist? While, as noted above, such expertise is not automatic, what we do have is the base on which to build, and the way to achieve such expertise is through training. There are several places in the USA and Canada that offer training in intercultural work. I have personally done extensive training for several years at the Intercultural Communication Institute, located in Portland, Oregon. ICI conducts one-, two-, and three-week intensive training courses during the summer, led by leaders in the field at Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon. ICI also offers three distinct certifications and a Master’s program with The University of the Pacific in Stockton, California. At present, I’m working on two new face-to-face seminars for interpreters and translators which will be submitted to the Judicial Council of California and ATA for continuing education credit. I also plan to establish a website from which I will offer online seminars for the benefit of colleagues who are unable to attend live seminars. This information will be available through the associations.
In addition, the Society for Intercultural Education, Training & Research (SIETAR), to which I belong, promotes and facilitates intercultural learning and work through professional interchange. SIETAR-USA is a membership organization for people from many cultural and professional backgrounds, who work within many environments and professions, including business and industry, consulting, training, K-12 and higher education, counseling, and all aspects of the media and arts, to name a few.
Regarding compensation, I can say only that one shouldn’t expect to become wealthy by doing intercultural work. As with translation and interpreting, the best-trained practitioners don’t necessarily work all the time or receive excellent compensation. However, a trained interculturalist/interpreter/translator who can market his skills successfully will get work and even have a niche that others don’t serve.
Interculturalism is an opportunity for translators and interpreters to go beyond our traditional framework. Gaining intercultural competence is something that I strive for every day; I hope that each year and every new encounter will get me there. In the meantime, I enjoy the ride.
Resources
Books on interculturalism:
- Hall, Edward T. (1959) The Silent Language Greenwich, CT: Fawcett.
- Jandt, Fred E. (1998) Intercultural Communication: An Introduction (Second Ed.) Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.
- Katan, David (1999) Translating Cultures, An Introduction for Translators, Interpreters and Mediators. Manchester, England; St Jerome Publishing.
Many books, monographs, and other resources may be obtained through:
The author gratefully acknowledges the work of Dr. Fred E. Jandt and Professor David Katan as source and inspiration for parts of this article.
Dec 1st, 2004 | Essays | No Comments
By Steven Goldstein
The range of translation issues involved in the publication of the Harry Potter series is vast; this article attempts only a broad survey of some of the more interesting and important topics. This first installment deals with several of the linguistic and cultural issues involved in the translations, and the choices translators faced. Part II, which will appear in the next issue of Translorial, will cover some of the procedural and marketing aspects, as well as special challenges, that surround the works.
The record, as far as we can tell, shows no instance of the now globally famous J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter books, ever having called one of her translators to offer that person the job of bringing the magical world of wizards and muggles to his or her native culture. But that hasn’t prevented some excited reactions from those translators who have gotten the nod, either through their local publishers, or through their own pluck in lobbying for one of the most prestigious—and challenging—jobs in translating today.
And how could it be other wise: worldwide sales of the Harry Potter books are estimated at over 250 million copies, with over 80 million sold in the U.S. alone. In 1998, worldwide marketing rights to the franchise were sold to Warner Brothers, enabling the schoolboy’s story to enter the realm of true global phenomenon. What started with the British publisher Bloomsbury is now a transnational, corporate marketing enterprise that incorporates the inevitable films, T-shirts, games, and myriad spinoffs. And the key players in all this are the literary translators who re-create the texts in other languages—over 60 at last count, including Ancient Greek—for page and screen.
On being chosen
Translators of the Harry Potter books have reacted in different ways to their selection as the transformers of this magical world for the children, and adults, of their native culture. For Emily Huws, translating Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone into Welsh was a great honor but also a huge responsibility. “It is a classic book,” she says, “and I feel that Welsh people have a right to have it in our own language. I wanted the children to have the great books like Roald Dahl’s The Enormous Crocodile to read in Welsh.”
Beatrice Masini, who translated the three most recent Harry Potter books into Italian, also imagined the joy of children when contemplating the re-creation of this new, magical world. “It was the fun of bringing over such a popular work for Italian kids and seeing a little of the reflected stardust raining down.” Yuko Matsuoka, on the other hand, saw her selection to bring Pottermania to Japan as something more divine: “A wave of shock ran through my body and mind,” she recalls, having read the entire first book in a single night—despite being a non-native speaker of English. “I said to myself: ‘Here is something I have waited for. Here is something that must have waited for me! It is fate.’”
Not so in the case of the current Russian translator, Viktor Golyshev. After translations of the first four volumes into Russian had been widely criticized for inaccuracies, a lack of fantasy, and inserted moralizing, the publisher brought in Golyshev—the brilliant translator of William Faulkner, Thorton Wilder, and George Orwell—for the fifth book. As the doyen of a team of three Russian translators working on Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Golyshev expressed no appreciation at all for the work, proclaiming not the slightest interest whatsoever in children’s literature. And yet, with the success of his team’s translation, he is now probably better known for his association with Harry Potter than he is for the whole of his professional oeuvre, which spans several decades.
Translating cultures
Along with the fame (or notoriety!) of being known as a Harry Potter translator, the series undeniably presents special challenges to the literary specialists among us. The most important of these challenges is undoubtedly a cultural one, as the environment of the book is decidedly English, from the very English-sounding Privet Drive, where Harry lives with his non-magical relatives, to teachers calling students by their surnames to virtually everyone having tea and crumpets in the afternoon.
The stories follow a familiar theme in English children’s books, that of adventures at boarding school, and many of the cultural nuances will be unfamiliar to readers in translation. Translators have several options, including de-Anglicizing the text, leaving names and concepts as they are (but including explanations of particularly difficult notions, such as Christmas crackers, Halloween, and Cornflakes—the latter having earned a footnote in the Chinese translation, to indicate that these are consumed immersed in milk for breakfast), or some combination of the two.
“I wanted to keep it very British and make the readers understand they are in Britain,” says Jean-François Ménard, the French translator (who is also the translator of Roald Dahl). One way to do this was to translate invented words and names in a sort of anglicized French: “Snape” became Rogue, “Slitherin” became Serpentard, and the British word “Bagman” became Verpay, from the acronym VRP, describing someone engaged in door-to-door sales.
For other translators, however, a certain mixture of elements made more sense. Gili Bar-Hillel changed an English sherbert lemon into an Israeli chocolate sweet. While Lena Fries-Gedin, the Swedish translator, transplanted the entire boarding school setting onto Swedish soil. “There have been other children’s books in English with that setting. And the fact that it’s still an unfamiliar environment to many Swedish children undoubtedly makes it more exciting, because it’s strange and exotic.”
Language: meanings, dialects, puns, and names
With made-up words, magic spells, regional accents, unknown creatures, and descriptive names, the language of Harry Potter’s world is fraught with challenges for translators. The mere manner of speaking, for example, of the various characters reveals much about them. Expressions and forms of speech are often regional, requiring corresponding equivalences, where possible, in other languages. The accent of Hagrid, a misguided and heavy-footed giant, is a case in point; it originates somewhere in northern England—so Ménard simply gave him a friendly and straightforward way of speaking in French.
Invented words, including the spells and incantations of Harry’s magical world, pose special problems. The names of people, places, and things—“Knockturn Alley” “muggles,” and “Ravenclaw,” for example—invariably evoke powerful imagery and thus create immensely difficult problems for translators. Not all names are translated, but those that are require extreme creativity and sensitivity in an attempt to duplicate—or at a minimum, approximate—the associations of the native English.
According to Nieves Martin, the Spanish translator, it can take a month to translate one of Rowling’s invented words with the degree of humor and subtlety of association contained in the original. “We eventually translated ‘skrewts’ (magical creatures) as escregutos, which sounds a bit frightening and suggests excrement and sputum,” he says. Lia Wyler, the Brazilian Portuguese translator, ended up coining over 400 words to re-create Harry’s expansive and magical universe.
German translator Klaus Fritz often found it impossible to translate Rowling’s puns; the magical street name “Diagon Alley” became Winklegasse, or “Corner Alley,” losing the play on words. So Fritz took a broader view of the books to reproduce the same flow of jokes, sometimes inventing new gags to make up for the ones lost in translation.
Through children’s eyes
Although Harry Potter may be read on several levels, it is ultimately a world created for children, and for the most part the translators never lost sight of that. “I relied on my granddaughter, a wonderful child just Harry’s age,” says Lia Wyler. “I used to recount every chapter to her and on recounting them I found where to add and cut to give it just the right rhythm in Portuguese.” So too did Emily Huws, who for the Welsh translation had help from a 15-year-old Potterphile “consultant,” who gave her advice along the way.
Because in the end, as the translators realized, it is the language of magic that is what children truly understand.
Dumbledore in Norway
The name of the venerable Hogwarts headmaster is an archaic word for the golden bumblebee that combines English and French, “bumble d’or.” As related by the Norwegian translator Torstein Bugge Hoverstad, the Norwegian word is humle, which “must obviously be part of any solution, but on its own it’s too short to convey entirely the original, which is a tiny sort of word painting of the sound this pleasant insect makes. The Norwegian word for this sound is ‘surr,’ so could we call him ‘Humlesurr’? The right number and sequence of sounds, so we’re getting there … but he’s not the most straightforward person you could think of, so what about getting a little twist into the name as well? ‘Snurr’ in Norwegian sounds nearly the same as the bumblebee’s ‘surr,’ but actually means something like turning rapidly—so we end up with Humlesnurr, conveying the original idea and the sound of the bumblebee, while adding a touch of nimbleness.”
Separated by a common language
Along with her American editor, J.K. Rowling decided that beyond Americanizing the spelling (flavour/flavor, recognise/recognize, etc.), words should be altered only where it was felt they would be incomprehensible, even in context, to an American reader. “I have had some criticism from other British writers about allowing any changes at all, but I feel the natural extension of that argument is to go and tell French and Danish children that we will not be translating Harry Potter, so they’d better go and learn English,” Rowling says.
Thus dustbin becomes trashcan and a packet of crisps is turned into a bag of chips. Dumbledore is barking in Britain but off his rocker across the Atlantic. Most importantly, at the suggestion of the American editor, the title of the first book was altered from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone to Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, both to avoid what might be thought of as a reference to misleading subject matter, and to reflect Harry’s magical powers. The choice of Sorcerer’s Stone was Rowling’s idea.
Sep 1st, 2004 | Esperanto, Essays, Perspective | No Comments
By Wassim Nassif
How do you get a German, a Lithuanian, a Yiddish-speaking Jew, a Pole, and a Russian to resolve their differences when there is no common language among them? Such was the dilemma faced by Ludovic Lazarus Zamenhof, an ophthalmologist living in Bialystok, a small rural village in northeastern Poland (then a part of the Russian empire), in the 1870s.
Zamenhof believed that much of the distrust and misunderstanding among his ethnic neighbors was the result of their simple inability to communicate, stemming from the differences in their various languages. This led him to believe that the creation of a neutral lingua franca—in effect, an international language—would, by breaking down the barriers to communication, open up social and economic understanding not only in his small rural community, but possibly on a much wider and more universal scale as well.
Thus Zamenhof embarked on a ten-year odyssey of researching and developing what would eventually become the constructed language Esperanto. The fruits of that labor, the Unua Libro de Esperanto (First Book of Esperanto), was published in 1887.
History of the language
Esperanto was conceived by Zamenhof as a language that would be simple to learn for speakers of any of the world’s languages—surely a daunting challenge. At the beginnings of his efforts, he contemplated a revival of Latin as a potential solution, but soon realized the language would prove too difficult for the task. Upon learning English, however, Zamenhof noted several grammatical structures that seemed advantageous—such as the fact that comprehension was not dependent upon how verbs were conjugated—which suggested concepts that would later be incorporated into his finished language.
Zamenhof still had the problem of a large vocabulary base, and how to develop a method of constructing words in an efficient manner. The solution came to him when, upon strolling down a road, he encountered two signs: “vejcarskaja” (Russian for porter’s lodge—place of the porter) and “konditorskaja” (confectioner’s shop—place of sweets). Reflecting on the structure of these nouns, he realized that the proper use of suffixes could greatly decrease the number of words needed in the vocabulary—a lexicon which in turn was chosen to be recognizable by the greatest number of speakers of the greatest number of languages. As a test of his emerging language, Zamenhof worked on translations and poetry to determine which of his linguistic theories really worked, and which needed to be discarded as being overly cumbersome or ungainly.
While at university in the early 1880s, Zamenhof set aside his ambitious linguistic project until he could complete his medical studies. During that time, he had handed his work over to his father for safekeeping. Unbeknownst to the younger Zamenhof, however, his father, thinking the project was pointless, burned the work. All that remained were four lines of a song Zamenhof had written. Devastated but undaunted, he bravely restarted work to prepare a new language textbook—the effort that resulted, in 1887, in the publication of the Unua Libro.
Learning Esperanto
Esperanto is not genetically related to any of the natural languages. However, its phonology and vocabulary were influenced by Indo-European languages, specifically those used by the ethnic populations of Bialystok. As a second language, therefore, Esperanto is far easier to learn if one is already a speaker of any of those European languages, than if one is a speaker of other natural languages—especially highly irregular, non-phonetic languages such as Chinese, English, or French.
There is also evidence that studying Esperanto before studying any other second language, especially an Indo-European language, speeds and improves learning. Learning subsequent foreign languages is easier than learning one’s first, where the use of a grammatically simple auxiliary language lessens the “first foreign language” learning complications. In one study, a group of students who studied Esperanto for one year, then French for three years, ended up with a better command of French than the control group, who studied French without Esperanto for four years.
Most of Esperanto’s vocabulary is made up of Latin, Greek, English, French, German, and some other Indo-European roots, with a few words from Slavic languages. It has a very logical structure, with similar suffixes for the same parts of speech; for example, -o for nouns, and –a for adjectives. Its phonetic alphabet—consisting of 28 letters, mainly a modified version of the Latin alphabet—ensures that all words are pronounced the way they are written, and vice versa. The alphabet does not include the letters q, w, x, and y, but adds six accented letters: c, g, h, j, and s with circumflex accent and u with breve accent, as well as several created letters that are not found on any national computer keyboard.
Esperanto has a relatively regular grammar, as well. As an agglutinative, or “combined” language, it has no grammatical genders and limited regular verb conjugation. Nouns and adjectives have two cases, nominative and accusative, and two numbers, singular and plural. Nouns and adjectives must agree in case and number. Verbs do not agree with their subjects. The accusative ending can be used to show the destination of a motion, or to replace certain prepositions when preferred. This allows for a more flexible word order, such as that found in Greek, Latin, and Russian.
Despite Esperanto’s somewhat clinical-sounding rules for building words and sentences, these very guidelines lead to a great deal of double meanings, and in fact Eperantists are quite fond of wordplay and humor based on their language.
Esperanto today
Today, Esperanto is the most widely spoken of the constructed languages. While not an official language of any country, it is nonetheless the official working language of several non-profit organizations, mostly Esperanto organizations. In addition, UNESCO has recognized the value of Esperanto in two different resolutions.
A survey of the number of Esperanto speakers worldwide by SIL International—a service organization that works with people who speak the world’s lesser-known languages—found that 1.6 million people speak Esperanto at a level that goes beyond greetings and simple phrases. There are even, the survey found, between 200 to 2,000 native Esperantists—individuals for whom Esperanto is actually akin to a first language!
People often learn Esperanto online through websites like lernu! (http://www.lernu.net/). The word lernu is Esperanto for “learn,” in the imperative mood. Lernu! is a multi-lingual website, whose goal is to inform the community of Internet users about Esperanto and help them learn the language, easily and free of charge. The courses designed to teach Esperanto are arranged to suit varying levels of difficulty. Students who encounter any problems can get help from live tutors.
Despite representing only a tiny fraction of the world’s population, and thus falling far short of Zamenhof ’s goal of a universal language, Esperanto remains a passionate dream for its adherents. Building on the legacy of Zamenhof ’s vision—developed as a result of the unhappy and sometimes violent misunderstandings he witnessed in his home village of Bialystock—these standard-bearers continue to keep the flame alive, for worldwide understanding, equality among nations, and mutual respect among peoples and countries.
“Esperanto,” after all, means “One who hopes.”
For more information
Jokes:
http://www.esperanto.ch/komentoj/sxercoj.html
Games:
http://mpovorin.narod.ru/ludoj/ludoj.html
News and chat:
http://gxangalo.com
Dictionary:
http://www.vortaro.org
Instruction:
http://www.cursodeesperanto.com.br/
Tongue twisters:
http://www.uebersetzung.at/twister/eo.htm
Music:
http://www.vinilkosmo.com
The Bay Area is the home of Esperanto-Ligo por Norda Ameriko (The Esperanto League for North America, a National Esperanto Association, http://www.esperanto-usa.org/), as well as the San Francisco Esperanto Regional Organization (http://ttt.esperanto.org/us/SFERO/) and the League of East Bay Esperantists, both of which have offices in Oakland.
How to say it in Esperanto
Creative Therapy Associates’ famous “How Are You Feeling Today?” poster/postcard reproduced on Translorial page 19 is also published in Esperanto by AIMS International Books (www.aimsbooks.com). In English, the emotions are, from right to left and top to bottom: Exhausted, Confused, Ecstatic, Guilty, Suspicious, Angry, Hysterical, Frustrated, Sad, Confident, Embarrassed, Happy, Mischievous, Disgusted, Frightened, Enraged, Ashamed, Cautious, Smug, Depressed, Overwhelmed, Hopeful, Lonely, Lovestruck, Jealous, Bored, Surprised, Anxious, Shocked, and Shy.
Other common expressions
Hello: Saluton [rough pronunciation: sa-LOO-ton]
Goodbye: Is revido [jis reh-VEE-do]
I love you: Mi amas vin [mee AH-mahs veen]
Thank you: Dankon [DAHN-kon]
Test yourself
What does it mean: Unu bieron, mi petas. [Oo-noo BEE-airon, mee PEH-tahs]
Answer: “Beer, please!”
Just for fun
According to a February 25, 2004, press release, the Esperanto version of the Wikipedia (en.wikipedia.org)—an open-content, polyglot encyclopedia—had 11,000 articles, making it the tenthlargest language in the Wikipedia.
The first film produced in Esperanto was called Angoroj (1964). Incubus, produced a year later, starred William Shatner, himself an Esperantist; it is the only known professionally produced feature film with entirely Esperanto dialogue.
Besides Esperanto, the most famous constructed languages are the Klingon and Vulcan languages of the movie and TV series Star Trek, and the languages of J.R.R. Tolkein’s Middle-earth mythologies (Sindarin, Quenya, Khuzdul and others).
The minor planet (1421) Esperanto is named in honor of the language. It was discovered on March 18, 1936 by Yrjö Väisälä, a Finnish astronomer.
Though the United Nations does not recognize Esperanto as an official language, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights has been translated into Esperanto.
Google, the Internet search engine, has the capability of displaying the Google interface, tips, and messages in Esperanto. When using Esperanto as a search keyword, Google will return about 2.6 million hits, some of which are sites written in Esperanto.
Esperanto accounts for more than 99% of all published material on constructed languages.
As depicted in the poem “Utopia” (article page 20 of Translorial), albeit in black and white, the flag of Esperanto is green with a white area (green 2:3, white 1:1) in the top left corner with a green 5 pointed regular star pointing upwards centered in it. The meaning of this symbol stands for the hope (green) of the five continents united (5-pointed star) in common understanding and peace (white color). And because Dr. Zamenhof was a thorough gentleman, he even wrote the anthem to go with it.
Sep 1st, 2004 | Business Services, Essays, Perspective | No Comments
By Christian L’Écuyer, President
Les Traductions COTRAD Translations (Quebec, Canada)
(Editor’s note: This article is a condensation of a much larger piece originally published in “The Voice,” the Newsletter of the Translators and Interpreters Guild (Canada), in 2002. With generous permission from its author, the article has been significantly abridged and edited for publication in Translorial.)
What is a co-operative, and how does it work? Does it have realistic and potentially profitable applications—both in monetary and social terms—for translators in today’s commercial environment?
Unlike a purely commercial venture at one end of the spectrum and a non-profit association on the other, a co-operative lies somewhere in between. It actually combines a “cooperative,” people-oriented strategy with sound business principles designed to generate self-sustaining (and beyond) income. Sometimes known as “employee-owned companies,” co-ops may be less well-known than other types of businesses, but they are far from uncommon. As of 2001, according to a study by the government of Quebec, there were 47,000 co-ops in the United States, with over 100 million members.
In the Canadian model, where self-employed professionals cannot create or become a member of a trade union, co-ops have tended to emerge in a particular market or field in response to needs that have often remained unmet in the economic environment, participating in the mainstream economy largely by default. Viewed this way, cooperatives are often seen by their proponents as correctives to the prevailing profit-driven economic structure in a specific market.
In this structure, co-operatives may in fact have a greater success rate that that of commercial ventures. The reasons for this may be traced to investors’ frequent lack of interest in serving a particular community, or too keen an interest in the bottom line. Co-op members are concerned with profits, too, of course, but their criteria for success encompasses more than just merely financial rewards. A co-op’s strengths and successes, in fact, stem from sustained grassroots links with a community of members, in the localities in which they live, or even through the Internet.
This egalitarian perspective is showcased by the democratic structure of a co-op, in which share-holding is not a factor: the association operates on the principle of “one person/one vote” for all business decisions, as distinct from a system in which seniority, job title, or even relative economic value determines influence. Participating in the co-op as both workers/artisans and as managers/directors, all regular co-op members share in the joys and pains of co-ownership and co-management. This means that regular co-op members can bring issues to the attention of fellow “cooperators” and to the elected board, and participate in finding a solution from within. They are the ultimate decision-makers. In this sense, some cooperators consider their statutes and by-laws as a type of collective agreement.
The COTRAD example
In an organization like COTRAD—as with any other generalized co-operative—the “company” model comprises two parts: an association of members, and the actual business run by it. As distinct from consumers’ co-ops, where membership is open to all who care to shop there, membership in professional organizations such as COTRAD is limited to skilled workers—here, translators and language specialists.
Within this context, COTRAD has evolved its own “co-operative difference.” Among its unique characteristics is the equal distribution of work allotted to each member, in order to eliminate a sometimes cannibalistic mentality regarding job assignment, and to give all members a chance to earn a reasonable living.
This equity is achieved through a work allotment formula based on specific criteria as derived from the association’s experience over the past five years. In short, the member who has received the least work in the preceding ten weeks gets first choice in accepting incoming work. A sub-formula allows integration of a member’s fields of expertise in the process. The allotment formula, or “work roll,” is updated as new work comes in.
COTRAD requires regular members to manage a particular aspect of the overall business side: supervising the insurance file, maintaining the database for professional development, picking up the mail, actively promoting the co-op’s services, making sure the amounts paid or received are consistent with figures in appropriate databases, etc. These administrative responsibilities are done more or less on a bartering basis, in the sense that they are the members’ claims to ownership of the co-op.
The association is administered through a project management approach. Although an administrative assistant is employed on a part-time basis, the group nonetheless believes that involving the regular members in the administrative aspect of their own business is the best way for them to keep control of it. This process insures that the co-op remains the property of its artisans and reflects their inputs.
COTRAD hires, or “recruits,” new members only if the translation volume in a given field has increased in a steady and consistent manner, or to comply with the required minimum number of members. Candidates must of course provide an up-to-date résumé, an example of their translation skills with source text, and—in the case where a candidate does not have a recommendation from a current member—a 200-250 word composition in the second language, on cooperation or a related subject.
It is important to keep in mind that COTRAD is a legal entity separate from the individual translator or language specialist. Thus, it is first in the client’s line of fire when things go wrong, which is why the association pays extremely careful attention to the monitoring of all outgoing jobs. Monitoring involves one or more of the following: spot-checking, copyediting, intermediate revision, or full revision. All target texts are spot-checked by the project manager, who then decides if it is good enough to be sent to the client as is. If not, further copyediting or revision is applied to the target text. Such close monitoring is a value-added process that clients tend to appreciate.
One of the distinguishing characteristics of the COTRAD co-op is that translators are always paid. If the client has not paid a validated job within a reasonable period of time, the co-op will pay the translator his/her full honoraria and then use whatever legal recourses are available against the delinquent client.
When developing a new section or module of the cooperative, COTRAD calls on freelancers, allowing members to monitor the linguistic skills of the prospective new cooperators and put their co-operative spirit to the test. Rates are negotiated on a per job or per period basis, as in any agency, but members of COTRAD are paid according to specific guidelines (see sidebar).
In all, a little over 90 percent of the total fee paid by the client is re-circulated among the members who participated in getting the job done, and in getting the job in the first place. All surpluses generated in the fiscal year are reinvested in the company’s growth fund.
As to management training, there are currently very few schools of co-operative management, in Quebec or in North America as a whole. Many managers in commercial enterprises are trained to think in terms of hierarchy, not of democracy. This can create problems in managing a co-op, especially the tendency for such managers to want to transform their co-operatives into share-holding ventures.
That said, it is quite interesting that some profit-based approaches nevertheless struggle to emulate a community-based business model that is over 175 years old; we should thank work-team theorists for bringing the work co-operative formula back in the spotlight of 21st century management and for arousing a new interest in the true co-operative approach.
© Tous droits réservés / All rights reserved, La coopérative de traduction COTRAD, Aylmer (QC), Canada, July 24, 2002. Copyright of the version of these articles that appeared in ‘The Voice’ in July and December of 2002 is shared with TTIG.
Getting started
Co-ops tend to generate a higher level of motivation among members than a traditional corporation does. It also nicely smoothes out the pitfalls of independent work.
Four or five members with common and/or complementary interests is all it takes to start; virtually no startup money is required, only the usual dictionaries, software and computers. All members work from home, are linked through e-mail, or fax, or phone. They meet perhaps every three weeks in a chat forum, on an intranet site, or in person to resolve management issues or organize special production projects. Members revise each other’s work without fear of reprisals and at lower cost; as to the business side, all members look for, receive a commission on, and can accept work in all specialties that all members have. Add an administrative assistant to the group if you have some start-up money, and you’re on your way. Bonne route!
COTRAD’s payment guidelines
The company keeps 15 percent of all jobs as the “co-op’s earnings,” to pay its overhead, the administrative assistant, the accountant, its Internet connections, and its phone lines; to guarantee the members’ and the general public’s preferred shares; to defend a member’s work if necessary; and to provide for the members’ common fund, called the Co-operative Advantage Fund.
The project manager and/or finder share 12 percent of the paid amount. It is important to keep in mind that the finder or project manager for a particular job is usually a fellow member. Thus, this money is effectively redistributed among members (another way to reduce cannibalism and inequity).
If a translation is sent to the client after spot-checking, the translator gets approximately 73 percent of the fee. Should a translation need full revision, the translator would be paid only 50 percent. Although 23 percent is subtracted from the honoraria in the latter case, it helps a fellow member make a living and saves professional embarrassment in the process.
Add to these honoraria the 5 percent or so from the Co-operative Advantage Fund that the language professional can use for professional development workshops, collective insurance premiums, or for other work-related advantages, and the pay system is complete.
For more information
www.magma.ca/~cotrad, for more on the COTRAD Translation Cooperative.
www.ica.coop, the International Cooperative Alliance. You will find on this site numerous internal and external links on a variety of coop-related subjects. Reading ICA’s « Declaration of Cooperative Principles » is a must. Among other functions, the ICA has the mandate of representing the world’s co-ops at the UN.
www.ncba.coop, the National Cooperative Business Association in the US.
www.coopca.com, the Canadian Co-operative Association.
www.orion.qc.ca, a Canadian Counselling and Research Co-operative
You may also want to search the Web for “icagroups” (International Cooperative Alliance Groups); “cooperatives US;”“workers’co-ops”US; etc.; the USDA for its section devoted to cooperative businesses; and various American universities for their Co-op Management Programs—their sites often have links to successful American cooperatives or co-op resource groups.
May 1st, 2000 | Essays, Marketing, Translation | No Comments
by Steve Vitek
And in the end the love you take Is equal to the love you make. -The Beatles, Abbey Road
It has probably happened to you, too. A total stranger strikes up a conversation with you in a supermarket and then hands you a business card and takes your card. Later he or she calls and offers to discuss a new business possibility over a cup of coffee.
When total strangers all of a sudden become friendly in America, they are usually trying to sell you something. In Europe or Japan, nobody gets friendly with total strangers for any reason whatsoever. In Germany, I think they actually have a law against that sort of thing. Depending on what you look like, it could be a sexual predator or perhaps just a lonely heart trying to pick you up. But if you look like me, the chances are you just met another specimen of a fairly recent American phenomenon: a freelance representative of a multilevel marketing organization such as Amway or Melaleuca-a company that is in the business of taking business away from department stores and channeling it through friendly total strangers lurking and picking up their prey in places like bookstores, coffee shops and supermarkets.
Being a curious person by nature, I sometimes talk to strangers who become suspiciously friendly in such places, as long as these places are well lit and there are other people around. The person who gave me his card and took mine later called and mailed a tape describing the philosophy of “network marketing.” It was the usual kind of pep talk describing how you can become your own boss and make big bucks if you will only make the decision TODAY AND BUY THE PROGRAM FROM THEM NOW! But the tape was quite interesting because it listed the reasons why direct marketing (selling products and services directly through a network of friends and acquaintances and finding new ”converts,” all of which pays you dividends) is the best business for our time. These direct marketing networks are becoming popular because they do work, and a lot of people have been able to quit their boring jobs and become freelance multilevel marketing representatives. I should have been taking notes, because I don’t have the tape any more (you have to return it or pay for it). But I believe the points made by this preacher of the multilevel marketing religion are directly applicable to our business – translation – and I will try to make some comparisons.
Leaving aside the point that it is probably not very healthy or good for your social life to look at everybody you meet as a potential customer that you can make profit from once you, convert him or her to your “faith,” let’s consider some of the points on the tape and compare them to the translation business.
1. Multilevel marketing is the perfect business for our time because you don’t need a lot of capital to get started.
True. This is true also of translation, whether you are a translator or an agency. You can get a cheap computer, an old fax and a couple of dictionaries for a few hundred dollars, and you’re in business. A cab driver’s medallion, on the other hand, costs the equivalent of a rundown shack in a dangerous part of San Francisco or a nice four-bedroom house in an uppity neighborhood in Santa Rosa.
2. Multilevel marketing is the perfect business because you don’t need any Inventory, storage area or a complicated billing and shipping system.
This also applies to translation. You can store files on your hard disk, write invoices with your word processor and work out of a spare bedroom, as long as you can figure out how to get your wife and kids out of the house during the day. (Dogs, cats, guinea pigs, and other pets can stay. They are actually very conducive to achieving the perfect mental balance needed to deliver the highest quality of your intellectual product).
3. Multilevel marketing is the perfect business for our time because the whole world is your market.
This is even truer of translation because, unlike products, files containing a translation can be easily and inexpensively e-mailed to your customers anywhere. A net plus for translators, who can forget about export regulations and taxes and so on. I am sure there are a lot of bureaucrats out there who would love to impose taxes on translators in addition to income taxes, but first they have to figure out how to do it. Since both technology and lawyers, who would also have to pay more taxes if these bureaucrats had their way, are on our side, we are probably in good shape, at least for the time being.
4. You can get started slowly, doing it part-time at first and then full-time once you have enough customers.
This, too, applies whether you are a multilevel marketer or a translator. So far so good: all the positives that apply to them seem to apply to us too, even more so.
5. Multilevel marketing is the perfect business for our time because anybody can do it.
Wait a minute! I’m not sure it’s true that anybody can sell anything. Probably not. But even if it were true, would it be a good thing? Hamburger flippers are paid minimum wage because anybody can flip burgers. All you need is two hands. In today’s labor market, one hand will probably do. A big problem in our profession is the perception among the general public that anybody can also translate or interpret as long as he or she knows two languages (or says so). If you want (to cut somebody’s hair, you have to go through hundreds of hours of training and pass a difficult examination, and only then will you be granted a license, renewable yearly on payment of a license fee, to perform this complicated and apparently dangerous operation.
Obviously, some people can translate and some cannot, even though they may think they can. True, if they are not very good, they will not last very long. But it is both a good thing and a bad thing that our business is largely unregulated. It is not a good thing that translation is not thought of as a profession that should be studied in specialized courses at universities so as to create a general standard by which all translators could be judged. Very few consumers of our services realize what is really involved in the translation process. They do not realize that a good translator must be a capable linguist as well as a talented actor who can talk like a patent attorney one day, a car mechanic the next, and a French city hall bureaucrat from 1864 the day after that, depending on what needs to be translated. Translation is a perfect business, for our time for educated people who know how to write, who enjoy playing different demanding roles on a daily basis, and who are not afraid to face the unpredictable and confusing world waiting for them on the other end of the phone line, fax line, or Internet mail box. Anybody can get into the business of translation, but only a very few people can do it well. It is up to us to change the notion that translation is an easy process in which one word is replaced by another, a process that can be mastered by a bilingual secretary who can also answer the phone and serve coffee. If we can change the prevalent notions about our profession, perhaps one day translators-the good ones, anyway-will make as much as, or more than, professionals in other fields with a similar level of education and dedication to their work.
I happen to think the best business and the best work for you or me is the kind of business and work that only a few people can do well. Ours is a strange job requiring rare skills. The example that somehow comes to mind is the example of a “medium” who enables communication between different worlds as we enable communication between different languages. The world is full of people who claim to be “mediums” that can communicate with the dead. But how many of these would-be communicators with the nether world have actually talked to Elvis recently? Do you remember the scene from the movie “Ghost” in which Whoopi Goldberg reluctantly “gave her body” to Patrick Swayze so that he could, for one last time, dance with Demi Moore to the music of “Unchained Melody”? (“Oh, my love, my darling, I’ve hungered for your touch, a long, lonely time …”). Whoopi was not some kind of a fame-seeking fake. She was the real thing. And, as John Lennon might have put it, a good, well-done medium is bloody rare. It hurt like hell to have a dead white guy dwell in her body, and she hated every second of it. But Whoopi had to do it because it was her job and nobody else could see the ghost and talk to him. She could not let the guy down just because he was white and dead!
It hurts sometimes to let an author of a medical paper on hemorrhoids in Japanese or German talk through us to an American doctor. All those names of exotic herbs that don’t seem to exist in any dictionary known to man. All those names of medical conditions that seem to be too abhorrent even for Steadman’s, Dorland’s, and Mosby’s dictionary to list them. (Check our Mosby’s Medical Dictionary for nurses if you want to see some really stomach-turning pictures. Publishers of medical dictionaries seem to save the really scary stuff for nurses.) But sometimes, when no other medium is available to do the reading in Japanese and the writing in English, certainly not a medium of Whoopi’s stature, we have to do it. A good translator is somebody who has the personality to provide the spark needed to convey the message from one language into another, to drive the ideas along without jamming up the information pipeline. And we do it, even though it hurts sometimes, hopefully not just for the money. Let’s face it; we do it because we love being the medium, even when it hurts. We must be kind of masochistic that way.
The best business for you is not the kind of business that anybody can do. The best work for you is the kind of business that very few people can do as well as you. That is the kind of work that is best suited for you, which is why you love doing it.
Because, as the Beatles put it, in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
Feb 1st, 2000 | Essays, Literary Translation | No Comments
by Julio Cortázar
From Revista Cromos, Bogotá, Colombia
Translated from the Spanish by Lesley Salas and Ramiro Arango
Reprinted from Translorial, VoI. 4, Nos. 4-5
An author begins to receive royalties or he doesn’t, and if he does, they are almost always late, which is why a writer who is not the son of a petroleum-financed sheik or Henry Ford III will spend a good part of his life making his living however he can. (Fallacies of language: Why not “pauperties” of an author? Why not “breaking” a living? The obstinate hypocrisy of that vocabulary which conspires with the worst of society those three- or four-syllable deceivers.)
Anyway, I mean to say that since I never expected any royalties (and maybe that’s why they came to me; indirect advice to many an over-anxious young writer), I spent a good part of my now many decades translating books, birth certificates, patents, consular invoices and reports from the Director General of UNESCO, the latter in collaboration with many and jovial Catalan, Ecuadorean, Argentine, Basque and Galician colleagues. An unspeaking dragoman, in my youth I experienced moments of delight while translating books such as Mémoires d’Adrian by Marguerite Yourcenar or L’immoraliste by André Gide, and years later I paid for these in days of horror or lethargy spent before reports by UN experts in the spheres (as they would put it) of sociology/literacy/irrigation/mass communication (sic) media/library economics/heavy water atomic reactors, etc. that, in general, deserved the denomination “unformative” rather than “informative.”
What has stayed with me from all this is a love for the subtle transmigrations and transgressions that operate in translation: the losses, the eliminations, sometimes the happy paraphrase and sometimes the foot in the mouth as far as it will go. In the mirror of translation, nothing is reflected from the original in full; absolute equivalents never go beyond the most embryonic, such as writing “Tomorrow is Thursday” for “Demain, c’est jeudi.” And we’re not even talking about the more subtle distortion imposed by historical and cultural evolution. Borges showed this better than anyone in “Pierre Ménard, Author of the Quijote,” which contains not even a translation but a literal reproduction that is nevertheless completely different from the original text.
The day when, thanks to my outstanding merits, I went from being a translator to an editor for international organizations, the comparison of others’ interpretations gave me moments not easily forgotten.
One example that already belongs to our professional folklore comes from the following text in French: “Comme disait feu le président Roosevelt, rien n’est à craindre hormis la cralnte elle-même.” This was blithely translated into Spanish as: “Como decia con ardor el presidente Roosevelt, el miedo a las hormigas lo crean ellas mismas.”* It must be admitted that the translation is richer and more metaphysical than the original, something equally noticeable in the case of a report on study grants given by the US to Mexico in which the word “scholarship” was understood as a ship loaded with scholars, nonchalantly put to sea to navigate its way though page after page….
*Translators’ note: The French can be rendered in English as: “As the late President Roosevelt used to say, there is nothing to fear but fear itself.” The Spanish sentence means: “As President Roosevelt used to say ardently, the fear of ants is created by ants themselves.” This unfortunate error occurred because the French word hormis (“except”) resembles the Spanish word hormiga (“ant”).
Editor’s note: This article appeared in the Late Summer/Fall 1982 issue of Translorial. Ramiro Arango was Vice President of NCTA at the time, and Lesley Salas, shown in that issue in a photo taken by NCTA founder Tom Bauman, was Translorial’s new editor. Part 2 of the translation of this article was to have appeared in the following issue, but Vol. 4, No. 6 is missing from our archive. We’ll try to locate Part 2 for a future re-release. Stay tuned.
