The Problem With Translation
(January 15, 2017)
The development of translation theories stem from the fact that there is a particular market and movement of translations, not only in the field of literature, but in other specific fields of societal functions such as bureaucracy, technology, health and science. As such, to ask “Is Translation a Utopian Act?” may not be easily answered as it would require a subjective perspective to defend a claim. Here, the question, itself, becomes a problematic source of discussion. However, for the purpose of this essay, I will explain why this question can be answered by both “yes” and “no”, as well as discuss the problematic nature of the question, which would hopefully shed light to an answer. And to help in the discussion, I will be using Lawrence Venuti’s arguments from his work, “Translation, Community, Utopia” (2000), as well as Wolgang Iser’s “The Implied Reader Theory” (1980).
Firstly, the answer can be “Yes”. At the dawn of the industrial revolution, technology transfer was made possible through deliberate translation of something technical into something standardised. Even if the translation happens within one particular language, it is the usage of the language that changes, creating either a simplification or complication of matters. One good reason for this is to create a hierarchy wherein classes must be instilled, thus a need for standardisation in order to create the tier equivalents. This creates an order of which society can follow in order to replicate the ideal– hence, a literal utopian act.
Figuratively, this notion of a utopian act can be seen as an indirect transformation, for not only is it geared towards technology transfer, but also in the importation of ideas. In literature, particularly, most of translations happen within literary works that espouse ideas, communal identity, and other matters that require the audience to be made aware of. As such, deliberation of what can be chosen is primarily identified with what is lacking with the current composition. Venuti explains, “the foreign text is rewritten in domestic dialects and discourses, registers and styles, and this results in the production of textual effects that signify only in the history of the domestic language and culture”(471). This feeds the need to “strive for the better” or “supply the inefficient”, which leads to creating the ideal that stems from what is known domestically. Thus, a call for transformation to a perfected state.
Furthermore, in Iser’s Implied Reader Theory, he explains that the text is what invites the reader to gravitate towards it, but in doing so, it can only be read in certain ways– tailor-made for a particular type of reader. In the case of translation, through the process of replacing the foreign into domestic for better understanding, there exists a social contract that limits the reader’s capacity to comprehend, which relies on the intention of the given text. As such, whatever response that the reader may have, it was designed prior to the reading experience, structured closely to past experiences and to the expected outcome. Thus, the utopian act of translation can only be successfully if the implied reader exists and follows their given roles.
However, as I have mentioned earlier, the answer may also be “No”. While there is the general tendency to locate the utopian value of a translated text, its reception may have an opposite effect. To begin with, the act of translating something that is foreign into a text that is easily understandable (domestic) requires the knowledge and appropriation of what can be its domestic counterpart. Venuti calls this as the point where “the translator negotiates the linguistic and cultural differences of the foreign text by reducing them and supplying another set of differences, basically domestic, drawn from the receiving language and culture…”(468). As such, there is a need to create a pseudo-semblance in order for a local understanding, and this is commonly seen in the usage of the ‘differences’, the ‘lacking’, or the ‘absent’. In return, while it can create some form of awareness, there will be a degree of disconnection which results in either self-depreciation or self-appreciation. By self-depreciation, I refer to the scenario where the reader is overwhelmed by the great difference, now that he/she is able to understand the message, but struggles to aspire for the ideal as the presence of a multitude of differences (particularly if the foreign is seen as the better) creates doubt and depreciation for what is local. Ultimately, it creates the mindset of one who is trapped to an unchanging society, and will continue in stasis. On the other hand, by self-appreciation, I refer to the scenario where the reader is made aware of the differences (though in this scenario, the local is seen as the better) and what fosters is patriotism or personal pride for drawing the better end of the stick. While it can lead to sympathy towards the foreign, it can also dangerously tip the reception towards the opposite end of the spectrum– apathy and vanity. Merely understanding the foreign does not signify a call for a better world based on what information we can get, and depending on the treatment of the translation process (that is to say, the deliberations and selections), the reception remains unclear.
Finally, with regard to the problematic question “Is Translation a Utopian Act?” – we must first understand an important part of this question, which is the word “act”, for already this would suggest that there is a motive or an intended outcome. Venuti has highlighted in his work and briefly enumerated the steps in the process of translation, wherein certain decisions are highly selective for certain reasons. Such decisions include a deliberation on the reason why a particular text was chosen, why a particular mode of translation is used, and why must it be a selection among several domestic choices, which all points to a certain vested interest, not entirely of the translator’s, but possibly of a larger production (a company, a group, a literary circle, movements, etc.). And it is for this reason that the opposing options of “yes” and “no” can be probable answers, depending on which selective factors we limit ourselves with, and then, choose from among those. As such, the question does not seem to ask for a deliberate answer, but rather, it seems to call attention to itself– an assumption that translation is meant for the realisation of the ideal– when, in reality, there are clearly other factors that can manipulate the process and reception of a given translated text.
In conclusion, the question is one of subjective nature, for it relies on intention. There is no straight or fixed answer. Yes and no are both probable, but there will be limitations as to how far they can explain or lay claim. Even if we put into consideration the implied reader, as proposed by Iser, there is no fixed mold of what this reader is, and the writer/translator will have to rely on creating an image that is closest to their targeted audience in order to perform that desired outcome. And again, there will be a repeat of the deliberation cycle in creating the criteria for the new image. As such, it becomes flexible and therefore can only be subjective to what it can accommodate for that moment.
So why do we translate? Why do we look for the foreign yet need to express in the local? What is it that is lacking? These are, perhaps, the questions that a translator must consider, and what the reader must be aware of, for only when the intention is made known can a certain translation be appraised. Yes, translation is an act. No, it is not utopian. Most importantly, it is not a fixed state that be defined in finality.
References
1. Iser, Wolfgang. (1980). “The Situation”. The Act of Reading: A Theory of Aesthetic Response. John Hopkins Press. pg. 20-50
2. Venuti, Lawrence. (2000). “Translation, Community, Utopia”. The Translation Studies Reader. Routledge: London. pg. 468-488
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