Mark Polizzotti, author of Sympathy for the Traitor: A Translation Manifesto Photo: Supplied
Translation is like a silent waiter, writes Mark Polizzotti in a recent New York Times article.
"It often gets noticed only when it knocks over the serving cart."
He talks with Bryan Crump about the art of translation and the perils of mistranslation.
St. Jerome in His Study (1480), by Domenico Ghirlandaio. Photo: Public domain
Controversy over translation can be traced back to Saint Jerome (the patron saint of translators) in the 4th century, says Polizzotti.
To make the Bible more accessible, Jerome translated it from Hebrew into Latin – then the language of common folk.
The more orthodox Saint Augustine did not approve, Polizzotti says.
"[Augustine] felt that trying to make the Bible accessible, Jerome had taken liberties in phrasing and moved away from the true word."
We tend to think of translation as a skill of accuracy which comes from knowing at least two languages extremely well, but 'accurate' is too equivocal a word, he says.
"There is no such thing as a purely faithful translation ... Languages don't work in the same way."
Texts are not fixed entities so completely fidelity to them is impossible, he says.
A good translation could be described as a convincing representation of the original in which the translator 'gets under the skin' of a text.
"What is going on there? What is the effect that text has on the original reader? Then try to reconnect that effect in another language."
A translator doing their job well creates another work that gives the same effect as the original did, Polizzotti says.
"Translation is really about creating a new literary work in its own right. You're creating a work that on one the hand depends on the original … but has a life of its own."
We often get an instinctive feeling when we read something that is poorly translated, he says.
Sometimes mistranslation has disastrous and deadly consequences.
Suzuki Kantaro, the Prime Minister of Japan from 7 April to 17 August 1945. Photo: Public domain
In July 1945, during WWII, the United States was pressuring Japan to surrender.
In a message to the United States, then prime minister Kantarō Suzuki used the Japanese word 'mokusatsu', which can be translated either as 'I need more time' or 'I'm ignoring you', Polizzotti says.
"This was conveyed back to Harry Truman, the President of the United States, as 'I'm treating your ultimatum with contempt' and, of course, ten days later the bombs fell [on Hiroshima].
"Some say the message was intentionally misconveyed to President Truman so that the US had an excuse to drop nuclear bombs and some say it was a tragic misunderstanding."
We'll probably never know the truth, Polizzotti says.
British writer Salman Rushdie learnt hard lessons about the perils of mistranslation in the late '80s when his novel The Satanic Verses was translated into Arabic.
In English, the phrase 'satanic verses' refers to some verses of the Koran that were excised because they were held to be spurious, in fact, dictated by Satan, and removed by the prophet Muhammad, Polizzotti says.
Yet the term 'satanic verses' does not exist in Arabic, and instead of using the Arabic term for those same verses (which translates in English as Story of the Cranes) the Arabic translator translated 'satanic verses' literally.
"So he was inadvertently suggesting that Rushdie was suggesting was that the entire Koran had been dictated by Satan."
British writer Salman Rushdie Photo: JOEL SAGET / AFP
In 1991, two other translators of The Satanic Verses became victims of the subsequent fallout – Japanese translator Hitoshi Igarashi was stabbed to death and Italian translator Ettore Capriolo was stabbed in his apartment but survived.
In times of conflict, people often get suspicious of translators, believing them to be traitors or somehow up to no good, Polizzotti says.
He gives the example of interpreters working on the ground in the Second Iraq War, who were ten times more likely to die in combat than members of the armed forces.
Often neither the Americans or the Iraqis had complete confidence in what the translator was saying to them, he says.
"They were the first ones to get the brunt of it and often were killed."
Mark Polizzotti is the author of Sympathy for the Traitor and he has translated more than 50 books from French into English.
