The Translation Post

A perennial question in the field of translation concerns to what extent the translator should play an active role in intepreting the source text. In many instances, minor acts of intepretation are simply necessary in order to provide an accurate translation. For example, the present tense (einfaches Präsenz) can be used in German to refer to either present or future states. A press release in German, for instance, might begin with Firma X launcht neues Dingsbums (“Company X Launches New Widget”) even when the product in question has not yet been released. While the English translation above (also in present tense) would only work if the widget had been or was on the verge of being released, in German the launch might be scheduled for 5 weeks from now. Thus, the translator needs to assess the context at hand and make a decision about whether the present or future tense is needed in English. Interpretation is unavoidable.

This is a fairly straight-forward example of the problem, however, as the translator’s mission is clear. At the other end of the spectrum, when the source text is more complex and ambiguous, one can spend hours pondering just a few words and how they should be best composed. One learns that sometimes even a great translation is indecipherable when the source text itself eludes a clear reading.

Take, for example, the following paragraph, which came from a philosophical text that I recently translated:

So kann bereits der Bezug auf einen anderen Menschen ein „Mehr“ und ein „Darüber hinaus“ bedeuten, in dem ich mich selbst überschreite, ebenso das Transzendieren einer konkreten Situation, eines gesellschaftlichen status quo. Deshalb bedarf es des Begriffs des Unbedingten, um der Falle der „schlechten Unendlichkeit“ zu entkommen. Er bezeichnet nämlich sowohl einen grundlosen, selbst nicht mehr von einem anderen bedingten Grund alles Bedingten als dessen Möglichkeitsbedingung als auch das Vollkommene.

The last sentence here is fairly out of control. Although I feel confident that my English translation accurately recapitulates the constellation of signs established by the author in her sentence, it remains impenetrable (to my puny mind, at least):

“Specifically, the concept of the unconditional designates both a basis for everything conditional which is itself without basis and not conditional on another basis as the condition of possibility for everything conditional, as well as the ‘perfect’ (Vollkommene).”

On the other hand, this is perhaps not the best example of the “interpretational duty” placed on the translator, as the sentence, despite its complexity, can be “effectively” translated. In between the two examples provided in this blog post there is a myriad range of translation problems that involve deciding how much one can and should deviate from and/or interpret the (apparent) meaning of the source text. What is the text’s message? The translator is invariably a major determinant in shaping the reader’s “take away.” There is no way around this problem, as the issue concerns the inherent non-compatability of linguistic systems and the translator’s position as a mediator and referee.

I am often surprised at how many translators faithfully transcribe blatant formatting and typographical errors into their translations. It’s a phenomenon I’ve encounter with some frequency when proofreading: A missing space after a period in the source text is also left out in the translation; stray punctuation marks are copied exactly as they originally appeared. Why do some translators do this? As an interpretive process, translation necessarily demands a degree of filtering to be carried by the translator. Glossing over slight typos is just part of the job. Of course, one could argue that the reproduction of typographical slips is a form of intersubjective translation in which the features characterizing the original text – in this case, errors – are transposed. For errors can in fact be laden with meaning: They provide insight into how much effort the author has put into the writing process; his or her command of the language, etc. Should they not be “translated” as well? Despite the flaws in this logic, I doubt such considerations are the motive force behind the typographical dunderheadedness that often confronts the proofreader.

So what is the reason? I think timidity is the cause in the vast majority of instances – the translator is afraid of making mistakes, doesn’t understand why the formatting in the text is unusual, and, assuming that there must be a reason for it, copies it obediently. This is not a recipe for a winning translation.

Many of the posts at this blog have discussed linguistic barriers confronted by the translator, particularly those that relate to grammatical conventions and other forms of usage that complicate the translator’s task. Cultural barriers are also a ticklish issue, however, and are just as apt to leave the translator grasping at straws. Of course it’s important to take cultural habits and mores into account when translating a text. In many cases, a few slight modifications suffice to adapt a text for an alternate cultural audience. Conventions in letter writing furnish an interesting example of this fact: In letters from German companies to customers or employees, the salutation “Sehr geehrte Damen und Herren” is often used. A direct translation would be strange here: “Ladies and Gentleman” is acceptable for a public address, but not the start of a letter. The translator must recognize this fact and adjust the salutation accordingly.

Yet even with an ample dose of cultural sensitivity, the translator may confront problems that render a satisfactory adaptation nearly impossible. Christiane (my partner) is currently translating a sales-team training booklet for a large American sportswear manufacturer (that is expanding to Germany). In the text, various ways of approaching customers in a store are discussed. The text distinguishes between approaches that concern service (e.g. “How can I help you?”) and those that are merely “social” in nature (e.g. “Nice weather, isn’t it?” or “Hello, how are you?”). While it would be possible here to render a direct translation, the text is in fact discussing social practices that don’t exist in Germany. “How are you doing?” is, quite simply, a question one never asks of strangers in Germany. From a German perspective, such behavior would be considered highly “superficial,” and, I suppose, “typically American.” In German stores, sales clerks generally leave customers alone. If they do initiate a conversation, then they do so to ask if they can be of assistance. Comments about the weather apropos of nothing would invite curious looks from potential customers.

Clearly, the text needs to be adapted to German social practices. The example above is admittedly an unusual instance of cultural discontinuity. Normally the cultural barriers confronted in a text – when translating between German and English, at least – are of a more manageable nature. The translator’s job is to adapt the target text based on its intended uses as well as to communicate with the customer about such problems, particularly when considerable changes would be required.

For a non-native speaker, Wolfgang Münchau, the Financial Times columnist, has an impeccable command of English. One does see his native German shining through in spots, though. Take the following use of “for example” that appeared in his most recent piece:

“In the absence of political leadership, they apply the rules as they are, for example when they recommend brutal and politically suicidal wage cuts in Latvia, when they apply accession criteria to the eurozone with no flexibility, or when they produce ineffective financial regulation.” Although not incorrect, the hard transition to “for example” in this sentence strikes me as particularly German.

The conclusion of the column, as well, is a bit funny: “But I never thought that we would ever celebrate a central bank as the only political institution that really works in Europe. How did we get there?” Shouldn’t this read, “How did we get here?”

“As” is an interesting word. Ever looked it up in the dictionary? Mine contains 43 different definitions for the term. “As” can be used in so many different contexts it almost eludes definition. Yet in its multipurpose utility, this tiny, seemingly irrelevant grammatical particle serves an essential linguistic function. As an adverb, conjunction, pronoun, or preposition, “as”  plays many roles, interlinking parts of speech and giving sentences form. One could describe it as the glue that holds the language together.

Needless to say, the German word “als” is not directly equivalent to its English counterpart. Like “as,” it is used as a comparative particle (diese Schuhe sind bequemer als die anderen) and conjunction (ich war froh, als sie endlich anriefen), but on the whole, it is used less frequently and has a much more restrictive range of use. However, “als” does take on a particular function that “as” lacks. The differences are subtle at first glance. Take the following sentence as an example: Die Beamten sind als Vetreter das öffentliche Gesicht der Verwaltung (“The officials are as representatives the public face of local government”). Here “als” is used to set up an equivalance between two things; the “officials” are in effect stated to be the equivelent of “representatives.” The direct English translation is acceptable and fairly clear, but rings a little bit strange. Why is this? In English, “as” is also used as a preposition to set up an equivalence, but this equivalence is a relative one, and usually does not have the 1:1 substitutional meaning found in many German constructions. For example: Der Auftragnehmer übernimmt die Aufbereitung am Standort X als technischer Betriebsführer für die Auftraggeberin als Betreiber (“The contracted party assumes responsibility for processing at location X as the technical manager for the contracting party as operator”). Translated directly, this sentence is somewhat confusing in English. What is meant by the “contracting party as operator”? “As” in English lacks the rigorous 1:1 substitutional equivalence implied by “als” in the German source sentence. A more readable translation would simply read: “for the contracting party, who is the operator.”

This is actually a fairly common problem when translating from German to English. An awareness for the non-compatability of “als” and “as” in certain contexts can help one to identify why the target sentence is not working and how it can be fixed.

Recently I’ve been thinking quite a bit about the German word “auch.” Such a straightforward word, on the face of it.  Yet again and again in past weeks I’ve seen this inconspicuous little term employed in a way that has no real equivalent in English.  Take the following title of a press release for an upcoming conference in Mannheim, for example:  “Steueroptimierung für Unternehmen auch in Krisenzeiten” (“Tax optimization for companies also in times of crisis”).  For the native English speaker, this word-for-word translation is confusing. What is being said here? Essentially, that companies can benefit from optimizing their tax practices, even – or perhaps particularly – when the economy is bad. Here, “auch” takes on a particular function that the English term “also” lacks.

Another example: “Die hohen Verluste am Aktienmarkt im Herbst 2008 waren auch auf sogenanntes Short-Selling zurückzuführen” (“The high stock market losses in the fall of 2008 were also attributable to short-selling”). At first glance, this sentence seems perfectly fine in English. But what if it were the very first sentence of a newspaper article? In German, it would be perfectly acceptable; in English, it wouldn’t make any sense. In German, “auch” is used here to introduce a cause while also indicating that other causes are involved. “Also” lacks this specific functionality in English. A proper translation of the above sentence would have to be something like: “There were numerous causes of the stock market losses in the fall of 2008; short-selling was one of them.”

The use of the word “auch” in this manner is actually quite common in German, but it is readily overlooked until one becomes attuned to its unique function, and the ways in which it differs from the English “also.” It’s also interesting to note that way in which “auch” often seems to be used to hedge statements, to say, in effect, “here is the reason for something, but there could be additional (or more important) reasons for it, so I’ll add an ‘auch’ to avoid pinning myself down here.” Now that’s some heavy lifting for such a little word.

False friends – that is, apparent cognates in two languages that actually have quite different meanings – are often a source of difficulty for the foreign language learner. I’ve been shocked to realize on several occasions that my understanding of specific German terms -  the definitions of which seemed secure in my internal lexicon – had in fact been distorted by their putative English equivalents. When the error concerns a word for which one has a certain fondness, the experience is all the most disconcerting. Just yesterday I learned that, while the term “latent” can certainly have the exact same meaning in both languages,  it tends in German to designate a “hidden” but “constantly present” thing – in English, by contrast,  the term in everyday usage refers to a hidden potential which has not yet manifested itself. This is a key distinction: is the thing being described active or not? I had muttered quite a bit of invective under my breath at the author of the text I was translating for his ostensible misuse of the term before consulting with a German native speaker, who disabused me of my misconception.

For me, in the end, this was a harmless error. A young girl who lives on the ground floor of our building wasn’t as lucky when she unwittingly stumbled into the snares of an embarrassing false cognate the other week. The girl in question, who on occassion attempts to showcase her English skills in my presence, announced during a brief exchange in the stairwell that she had “not douched today” – in German, “duschen” means “to shower,” but the word has quite a different meaning in English. This was a bit of personal trivia which I would have gladly been spared.

The extent to which German grammatical constructions can resemble a mathematical formula is particuarly well demonstrated, I think, by the following compound: “Energieversorgungs-, -handels- und -dienstleistungsunternehmen”

The suspended lexeme “-handels-” in the middle of the sentence is the really interesting thing here.

A frequent point of difficulty for the German-to-English translator concerns the handling of parenthetical inserts, as there is a clear divergence between the two languages in the conventions that govern their usage. While parenthesis are used in both German and English to offer explanatory or qualifying statements about that which is said, German parenthetical remarks are often introduced in a manner that the English native speaker cannot help but find somewhat abrupt. In English, for example, when a substitute term is introduced in parenthesis, the new term is typically offered in the form of a rhetorical aside. Take the following example:

The Red Army Faction (also known as the Baader-Meinhof gang) was a far-left radical group.

The phrase “also known as” helps to steer the reader and preserve the cadence of the sentence. In German, however, alternative terms are often presented in a highly direct manner, without such formalities, as in the following examples:

Die Planzen werden in den Kärntner Alpen (Nockberge) in einem Naturschutzprojekt kultiviert und streng kontrolliert geerntet.

Bei der Schaltung von Bannern und dem Einkauf von Werbeflächen (Mediaplanung) stehen wir unseren Kunden mit unserem langjährigen Know-how zur Seite.

Although this style of substitutional insertion is not unknown in English, it is used far less frequently than in German. This type of substitution, when translated directly, often yields a target sentence with a disjointed feeling. In this way, in light of the clear discrepencies between German and English usage in this area, the translator should take the liberty of rephrasing parenthetical inserts to conform with the conventions of good, standard English, lightly embellishing them as necessary to ensure smooth sentence cadence.

The more I translate, the more convinced I become that developing accurate translation software is a nearly impossible task, and one that certainly can’t be achieved with probability-based models alone, as is used by Google Translate. Aside from the idiosyncratic and cultural properties of language (as previously discussed here), machine translation is complicated by the incompleteness of reference databases. Essentially, it’s impossible for a piece of software to translate a term for which no dictionary entry or prior translation exists. This problem is much more pressing than one might initially suspect, considering the frequency with which the translator encounters little-used terms for which no translation is immediately forthcoming. Translating the other day, I kept a list of uncommon terms and the number of Google hits each term yields. Here are a few: Patentfeld (7 hits); patentstark (3 hits); versatzfähig (1 hit); bestandeskundlich (2 hits); tiefenstufenabhängig (3 hits).

In the absence of an ability to consider the larger context of a text and deconstruct meaning – in short, without the ability to think – translation software is unable to effectively deal with non-standard terms. Yet the complicating factor of rare terminology is just one example of the many situations in translation in which a 1:1 rendering is not possible. Clearly, the dynamic transformation of the signifiers in a source text necessary to produce an accurate and legible translation is an act of creative interpretation that is totally beyond the present capabilities of translation software, particularly software based on probability models.