Working Languages

From the Guardian, reporting on the European under-21 championship final

German teams do not throw away 2–0 leads and so it proved. Although England chiselled out a trio of openings, their opponents twisted the knife further on the counter with late goals from the centre-forward Sandro Wagner who, for much of the evening, had looked to lack the composure of his namesake.

That namesake being Wagner, Richard - the great composer with the great composure?!

A joke should not be assumed. England's sports writers are not given to levity when their team has just been whopped by the dread Germans, however inured to it they may have become.

Its existence is denied in many quarters e.g. in this Glossary of Translation Industry Terms:

Simultaneous translation
There is no such thing. A translation is done in writing; an interpretation orally. If your supplier doesn't know the difference between translation and interpretation, this is one of the Red Flags & Warning Bells that your meeting is in trouble

Or this:

Stop confusing translators and interpreters ... there is no such thing as ‘simultaneous translation’

And yet:

Met Titles are a custom designed system for simultaneous translation that has been created by the Metropolitan Opera. They are used for all opera performances

Likewise:

SURTITLES™The simultaneous translation of the words sung in an opera, projected above the stage. SURTITLES™ were pioneered by the Canadian Opera Company in 1983, and are now used in various forms in opera houses around the world.

Which seems perfectly unobjectionable: the translation being simultaneous for the purposes of the user rather than for those of the producer.

I don't share the irritation felt by many in the business at the constant confusion of interpreters with translators. The one situation I have found it to be a problem is when a delegate at a meeting complains about the quality of the translation (i.e. of the document they are working on) and malevolent looks are mis-cast in the direction of the interpreting booths.

Since the true etymology of the word interpreter is apparently unknown and with a view to clarifying the distinction for non-professionals, it may be useful to propagate a bogus etymology based on the way the word is commonly pronounced by non-natives: inter-prater.

Similarly trans-letter.

I had been preparing a post on the word "fair" but it seems to have been well covered now by a recent Language Log post so I will confine myself to the expression "fair play".

Fair play is commonly perceived, like its sometime synonym cricket, as quintessentially English in origin. A view well expressed in this letter to a newspaper:

One summer about 15 years ago we found ourselves camping in a rather smart French seaside resort.
It was hot, and there was quite a long walk to the popular beach, along a sandy path between pine-shaded holiday homes. Just before we reached the beach we came upon a notice board. I can't remember the exact details, but I know it instructed bathers - in French, of course - to be considerate towards other holidaymakers in the way they used the beach, which could get very crowded at times.
What I also recall, with great clarity, is that the instructions were summed up, not in formal, official French, but with two simple English words that leapt out at us: 'le fair-play'.
I'm not one of those people who believes in 'my country right or wrong'. I love the landscape of Britain, I like the people among whom I live, I wouldn't want to live anywhere else. But I'm of that generation that's always been more than a little suspicious of declarations of unthinking patriotism.
Yet, as I stood looking at that notice on that French beach I felt an unmistakable surge of pure pride in being British. Here was undoubted proof that we as a nation have given something unique and special to the world, something so characteristic of our nation that the French have no precise word for it and have to resort to English to say what they mean. ...
As I see it, it's that idea of 'fair-play' that allows us to call ourselves civilised. It's what being British is all about - or it ought to be.

At a more academic level, Anna Wierzbicka argues in English:Meaning and Culture that the concept of fairness is not universal but is unique to what she terms "Anglo" culture and hence untranslateable. She suggests that the notion of fair is coloured by that of fair play and ultimately derives from a sporting context. This sporting origin of the phrase is widely taken for granted, as her quotations show.

Yet historically, fair play in English is invariably found in a non-sporting sense, as used here by Adam Smith, for example, where fair has none of its modern connotations and play has nothing to do with games.

Man is generally considered by statesmen and projectors, as the materials of a sort of political mechanics. Projectors disturb nature in the course of her operations on human affairs; and it requires no more than to let her alone and give her fair play in the pursuit of her ends, that she may establish her own designs. Little else is requisite to carry a state to the highest degree of opulence from the lowest barbarism but peace, easy taxes, and a tolerable administration of justice; all the rest being brought about by the natural course of things. All governments which thwart this natural course, which force things into another channel, or which endeavor to arrest the progress of society at a particular point, are unnatural, and to support themselves are obliged to be oppressive and tyrannical

Even in the context of sport and games, fair seems to have simply meant legal or valid, as these examples show:

d. spec. in games. 1856 Spirit of Times (N.Y.) 6 Dec. 229/1 A player must make his first base after striking a fair ball. 1867 Routledge's Handbk. Football 41 Knocking on and throwing forward are disallowed: in case of this rule being broken a catch from such a knock or throw shall be equivalent to a fair catch. Ibid. 47 A Fair Catch is a catch from a kick, or a knock on from the hand but not from the arm of the opposite side, or a throw on, when the catcher makes a mark with his heel provided no one else on his side touch the ball. 1896 KNOWLES & MORTON Baseball 23 If the ball falls exactly on the foul line, it is a fair hit, unless it rolls into foul territory. 1935 Encycl. Sports 518/1 A fair catch can be made in a player's own In-goal. 1960 E. S. & W. J. HIGHAM High Speed Rugby xiii. 183 The method of making a fair-catch is to make a mark on the ground with the heel as the ball is caught, and to call: ‘Mark!’

And the expression is rarely used in English these days (with one notable exception mentioned below) in the sense of sporting conduct. This is not the case in other languages: in French and Italian fair play is the standard term for both sporting and sportsmanship. As the French Wikipedia entry notes:

Le terme anglais pour désigner le fair play est Sportsmanship (sportivité)

The use of the expression in a sporting context in English is largely confined to Fair Play Awards and the like, the origins of which seem suspiciously francophone. Such awards are given in recognition of acts of conspicuous selflessness in sporting competition. The first recipient of the oldest of these awards - the Pierre de Coubertin Medal - was not an "Anglo" but an Italian - it was the beneficiary of the noble deed who was English.

Intriguingly, then, in the sporting context, in which it is generally perceived to have arisen, the term "fair play" in modern English (and, just to be mischievous, perhaps the very concept) may actually be a borrowing - notwithstanding the obvious fact that the constituent words are English. It seems plausible that the expression took on its nobler sporting sense after it was borrowed into French (in 1856 apparently), whence it was borrowed back into English with its new trappings in the context of fair play awards etc.

How ironic if something commonly perceived to be so characteristically English (or "Anglo") were in fact an alien import - from a language which supposedly has no word for it:

Here was undoubted proof that we as a nation have given something unique and special to the world, something so characteristic of our nation that the French have no precise word for it and have to resort to English to say what they mean

BBC World News had two big stories the other night: the UK's crisis budget and the composition of the incoming US administration.

Some of the UK terminology was perceived as requiring translation for an international audience: value-added tax became sales tax ("or VAT as the Brits call it") and Chancellor of the Exchequer was first glossed then replaced by Finance Minister.

In the US report, though, the corresponding and similarly untransparent Treasury Secretary went unexplained.

I should add that in the UK story it was perfectly clear from the circumstances what sort of public official the Chancellor was - announcing the budget, addressing Parliament etc. - whereas for Treasury Secretary there was little or no context.

It may be inferred from this that there are two considerations in deciding whether a term local to a particular part of the world needs to be delocalized for global consumption. The first is whether it is sufficiently transparent, the second whether it is sufficiently familiar internationally. Presumably value-added tax became sales tax on the basis that the latter term is more transparent even though value-added tax has wide international currency, whereas it was thought fit to gloss the Chancellor but not the Secretary on the basis that the world is familiar with US but not with British politics.

Or perhaps there is just one simple rule: leave US usage as it is, dumb everything else down.

In an earlier post I mentioned a Sunday Times article on a supposed shortage of into-English translators at the European Commission. While the article itself is somewhat confused, it now appears to have been based on facts, after all, however garbled in the transmission. This, in particular:

... the European commission has had to recruit linguists from Spain and Greece to translate documents into English

It turns out that Greek and Spanish translators are in fact being required to translate out of Greek and Spanish, into English and French, respectively:

As from 1 November, the Directorate-General for Translation decided that Greek translators would no longer only translate documents into Greek but they should also translate from Greek into English. Spanish translators will not only be obliged to translate texts into Spanish, but should also translate from Spanish into French

Now there is no reason why Greek or Spanish translators should not translate into English or French - provided they meet the same criteria as those who translate only into the language concerned.

But the Greek and Spanish translators concerned here are not qualified to translate into English or French and have not passed the relevant translation tests:

Does the new competence comply with the requirements of the job description? NO!
No Commission translator passed a competition in which this competence was necessary

Nor do they believe themselves to be properly equipped for the job:

TAO-AFI supports Greek and Spanish translators who have jointly REFUSED to carry out these new tasks

Although the following suggests some division in their ranks:

Will translation costs be reduced? NO! Greek and Spanish translators rightly request that their texts be revised by the English and French departments. Those departments have already declared that they need three times longer to revise a text written by non Anglophone/French-speaking persons then to directly translate it

It's official:

93.1% of residents of Belgium speak English at home

OK, that refers to Belgium, Wisconsin, although an innocent from abroad might think it true of Belgium, Europe, after a stroll through the streets of Brussels, so pervasive is the presence of English on the exteriors of shops and cafés there.

Shop-front signage in foreign languages is by no means peculiar to Brussels, of course, but it does seem particularly prevalent there, with whole rows of shops touting their wares to passers-by in English only.

Yet unlike the population of Belgium, Wisconsin, many if not most Brusselers don't actually know enough English to understand what's written on or over these shop-windows.

Presumably they at least can tell that it is English and are suitably impressed by the global aspirations of these mainly local businesses: the content is secondary, the English itself is the message, part of the window-dressing. Where practical information has to be conveyed the languages used are those actually likely to be understood by prospective customers - French and Dutch - and English doesn't get a look in, as this shop-front illustrates:



That's the private sector. These are businesses at the mercy of market forces and driven by the herd instinct that that instills. But surely a prestigious public institution such as the Palais des Beaux Arts would be able to dispense with the tawdry cachet of English signage? Quite the contrary: here even the most practical of information is provided in English only:

The Palais des Beaux Arts is of course closely associated with the surrealist movement, and with René Magritte in particular. So maybe it's something to do with that tradition. If French were still lingua grata the unopenable door could have read "Ceci n'est pas une porte".

A mix-up at my Brussels hotel resulted in me getting a touch of the VIP treatment: a little tray of complimentary refreshments and delicacies awaited me in my room, accompanied by this note:


Given that the hotel is a stone's throw from the European Parliament, which was in session at the time, the Madame Le Pen in question may safely be assumed to be French Front National MEP Marine Le Pen, daughter of Jean-Marie.

Leaving aside the fact that an elected official travelling on public business at the taxpayer's expense is unlikely to be best pleased at suggestions of relaxing and chilling out, how bizarre for a leading member of the devotedly francophone Front National to be met with an English-only greeting in what is after all (to a first approximation) a French-speaking city - and within spitting distance of the bastion of linguistic diversity that is the European Parliament (the hotel's raison d'être no doubt).

Yet it is not unusual in Brussels to find hotels, like this one, in utter denial of their French-speaking environment: reception staff who speak no French, in-room guest information in English only, TV menus without one regular French-language channel (out of maybe 50).

Perhaps it's just a consequence of the tensions between Belgium's linguistic communities, though why international chains should let themselves get involved in that is beyond me.